#is that she is just relentlessly a glass half empty type | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delaber · 3 years

Text

Three-Point Perspective (Part 2)

Rafael Casal x Reader x Daveed Diggs

Note: Guys! When I wrote Three-Point Perspective, I wasn’t planning on adding a second part to it but the amount of support was so overwhelming that I just had to do a sequel ...And let me tell you; I am so glad you guys wanted it because this was so much fun! I have never been more challenged with a story-line, portraying emotions, changing perspectives, and just the plot in general. I have never never never changed a story-line as much as I did for this one, haha! Crazy amounts of shout-outs and thanks to my amazing mate @einfachniemand for listening to countless of ideas, for feedback on several snippets, for being supportive af, and for telling me “yeah, no, that doesn’t work. Back to the drawing board.” Thank you boo! You are amazing! A huge thanks to @theatrenerd86 for starting off this sequel by providing the settings - and for just being the most supportive human being ever! Mwah! Also a huge thanks to the rest of you for your endless support! I love this community! (Oh, and anon; thanks for the (quite old, sorry) prompt but I didn’t do it for Rafa (sorry once again)). Let me know what you guys think!

Words: 13.8K

Warnings: Oh my goodness, I don’t even wanna get started... Blood, heartbreak, angst (my three tropes)

Rafael

Rafa almost tripped over his own two feet as he stumbled over to the bar and desperately ordered a large whiskey shooter. He was having a hard time keeping calm; his heart was beating fast in his chest, his throat closing in on itself, his hairline soaked in panic-sweat. He needed to put what had just happened in the very seat he was standing in front of at a distance. His hands were still itching to punch something! He needed the fucking drink!

The bartender had barely stopped pouring Maker's Mark into a small glass before Rafa quickly grabbed it and chugged its contents down his throat, desperately trying to block out what he had just witnessed.

Your tongue in his best friend's ear.

Diggs' hand sliding up your thigh.

The sensual smile you'd worn as Diggs had whispered promising words in your ear.

"Oh god," Rafa groaned as he recalled your excited smile as his best friend had escorted you out of the bar, his hand dipping uncomfortably low on your hips.

Desperately clutching the now empty whiskey glass, Rafa tried relentlessly to push away the image of what you and Diggs probably were in the midst of doing right now. Oh shit, oh no... His chest was stinging, his stomach aching horribly at the thought of you and Diggs fucking. Oh god. He tried to shift his focus to the burning sensation down his esophagus instead and quickly ordered another shooter.

It didn't take long before the bartender had placed another glass of golden-brown liquid in front of him that he quickly downed in one go, thinking about how stupid he was for not having acted on his feelings for you earlier. He had had eight fucking years to do so after all?! Why the fuck hadn't he just pulled himself together and called you up?! He wanted to punch something! He wanted to get fucked up! He wanted to call someone and get them to deliver a big fucking bag of blow - but he settled on a third shooter.

He gulped down the whiskey as the aggression subsided and was replaced by the same type of jealousy-induced heartburn that he had felt earlier that night. Fucking Daveed Diggs and the way he always seemed to be able to wrap women around his little finger! In eight minutes, he had managed to do to you what Rafa hadn't managed to do for eight years. Fuck him!

A fourth whiskey went down Rafa's throat as the jealousy was replaced by hurtful pangs in his chest; shit it hurt to think about you and Diggs together. Rafa knew that you had had a few men in your life since the summer in the taco truck, and even though it had stung to see pictures of your romances on Instagram, it didn't hurt half as much as seeing his best friend escort you out of the bar.

He ordered another whiskey. And another one after that. And then an entire bottle of Jameson just to recall the taste of your lips that night on top of the skate ramps all those years ago. Quickly, Rafa gulped down most of the bottle, his eyes watering from the sharp taste of alcohol on his tongue, but no matter how much he drank, he still wasn't able to get image of you and Diggs out of his head. It had etched itself on the back of his eyelids, somehow becoming clearer and clearer with every gulp of fiery liquid.

It didn't take long before he had reached the half-way mark on the bottle of Jameson, completely lost in constantly checking his phone to see if you had tried to contact him to tell him that Diggs by some miracle had blown his shot. You hadn't. And even though Rafa doubted that you would, he still couldn't put the phone away.

He was fumbling about on the screen as he accidentally found Diggs' name on the list of contacts. Completely lost in contemplating whether or not he should call him up and tell him to stay the fuck away from you, he jumped a little when he suddenly felt a soft hand on his shoulder. For about a mili-second, Rafa believed that the soft touch belonged to you, but as soon as he had whipped around in his seat, he felt the disappointment cloud his mind as he was met by his make-up artist Janelle instead. "Oh, hey," he spoke in an uninterested tone of voice, his words a little slurred from the amount of whiskey he'd been drinking.

"Rafa, honey, are you okay?" She looked at him with kind eyes, "you seem a little out of it."

"I'm great," he slurred into his whiskey glass before emptying it for what felt like the 100th time that night, "I'm fucking perfect! This night's just absolutely fucking perfect."

Janelle furrowed her brows and pushed the bottle of Jameson out of Rafa's reach, "is it because of Daveed and -"

"- DON'T say her name," Rafa warned, his voice turning to a low drunk growl afterwards, "I don't want to think about it."

Janelle sat down on the empty barstool next to him and sent him a slow nod, "yeah, I was afraid this might happen..." she sighed and sent him a pitiful look.

"That what might happen?" Rafa drunkenly mumbled, trying to avoid her gaze.

"Honey... I've seen the way you look at her," Janelle whispered and reassuringly put her hand on Rafa's arm as she searched his face for any kind of affirmation. Rafa groaned and met her eyes shortly before she softly added, "- and I've seen the way Daveed looks at her too."

Rafa gulped to keep the slowly forming lump in this throat at bay, "...so you don't think it's just a one-night thing?" He croaked in a small whisper, the pain in his chest suddenly twice as hurtful as before.

Janelle shook her head slowly, shooting Rafa a careful look.

"And - uhm," Rafa cleared his throat "- do you think that - uh - she's into him as well?" He added in a whisper, his face involuntarily screwed up as he was afraid to hear the answer.

"I don't know, honey," Janelle said diplomatically and pulled him in for a tight hug, inaudibly giving away that she definitely thought so. Rafa appreciated Janelle's attempt to salvage the situation and let her comfort him for a couple of seconds before she slowly let go of him again, sending him a heartfelt look in the process. "Do you want to talk about it?" She asked.

"No..." Rafa mumbled and reached for the bottle that Janelle had pushed away moments before.

She grabbed his arm and forced it down in his lap instead, "why don't you leave the bottle and instead call it a night, boo? You've been drinking quite a lot already."

Rafa gulped a little and realised that she was right. Nothing good would come from sitting at the bar, drowning his sorrows in cheap whiskey. "Yeah," he groaned as he ran a hand through his damp hair, "yeah... You're right. Might be a good idea..."

"Go grab your jacket. I'll call you a cab, okay?"

"Thanks," Rafa mumbled before scrambling to his feet, swaying a little from side to side. He managed to balance himself and stagger over to the coat check where he retrieved his leather jacket and slowly pulled it on with great difficulty.

"I got you," Janelle was suddenly behind him, helping him pull the jacket up his arms.

"Thanks," Rafa mumbled as he pulled on the collar to rearrange the leather over his shoulders.

"You wanna say bye to the rest of the crew?" Janelle piped from behind him.

He shot a quick glance across the room and towards the table that his friends were occupying. "I better set an example," he mumbled even though he'd rather be sitting in a cab on his way home right now.

With his arm around Janelle, and her hand on his chest to steady him, Rafa walked over to his co-stars, putting up his best attempt at a cheerful smile, "I'm off guys. Have a lovely evening," he slurred drunkenly.

He thought to himself that he was doing a tremendous job of hiding away his hurt feelings until he noticed their stiff smiles. Suddenly, he realised by the sympathetic looks they were all shooting him from their seats, that they were well-aware of what was going on. Rafa quickly scanned their silent, pained faces one by one until Alessandro - one of the leads - finally spoke up, "see you Monday boss!"

Annoyed with their pitiful eyes, Rafa mumbled a, "see you Monday, bruh," and turned around, facing Janelle again as the others awkwardly looked away. It made him feel stupid.

"Cab's outside," Janelle tried to smile and pulled him in for a hug, "are you going to be okay, boo?"

"I don't know," Rafa croaked truthfully against her neck and let her pull him just a little closer.

"Call me tomorrow, okay?" She let go of him, "We'll do something fun."

"Okay," Rafa slurred, his eyes stinging as he turned away from her and towards the exit.

Slowly, he stumbled out of the bar and hopped into the yellow cab outside, closing his eyes desperately in the backseat, trying to block out any thought of you and Diggs but failing horribly. The ride home was the longest drive of Rafa's life, his thoughts sporadic and unorganised but all centred around the same thing: what would he come home to? Had you and Diggs gone to your place? Or to Diggs' place that he just happened to share with Rafa? Fuck, he almost couldn't bear the thought of coming home to meet Diggs balls deep in you on the couch. Rafa would never purposely punch Diggs, but if he came home to face that, he wasn't sure he'd be able to hold back his itching fist.

"He's your best friend," Rafa mumbled to himself as a reminder, hoping to calm himself down, "he's your best friend. He didn't know. He's innocent... - well apart from fucking your girl..."

Everything inside him was on fire.

"You alright back there, mate?" The cab driver shot Rafa a look in the rear-view mirror, apparently concerned about the whispered words, he'd heard coming from the backseat.

"Yeah," Rafa replied unenthusiastically, a little annoyed that everybody seemed to be so concerned with him - but he eventually stopped thinking out loud.

For the remainder of the trip, the driver kept his mouth shut too but annoyingly enough constantly checked in on Rafa in the rear-view mirror.

Rafa was relieved when the driver finally pulled over outside his home and paid him quickly, slamming the car door shut with much force, hoping to alleviate some of the all-consuming itch that he felt deep in his bones. Little did it help. He still wanted to punch something.

Rafa turned his attention towards the house and gave out a short sigh before he started swaying up the paved pathway in the small yard, briefly stopping before he reached the front door. He prayed that you had taken Diggs to your place and not the other way around. He couldn't handle being faced with his worst nightmare - and especially not after having had so much to drink. Right now, he couldn't account for how he'd react.

He stood with his key in hand for a while, scared of what might come, but eventually realised that he would have to go inside at some point. With a deep sigh, he slowly slid his key in the lock and turned it around, his palms sweating terribly. He felt his heart sinking down to the bottom of his stomach when the key didn't meet any kind of resistance, and he realised that the door was already unlocked.

Fuck... Diggs had taken you here.

With a burning sensation in his chest, Rafa quietly pushed open the front door and stepped inside the small hallway, closing the door behind him with a small thump. He closed his eyes and threw his head up against the wooden door, forcing himself to relax by taking three deep breaths - a technique he had learned from his mother when he had been nervous about doing spoken words for the first time at fifteen.

He focused on his breathing for a few seconds and after having exhaled a third time - already more relaxed than before - he opened his eyes and took in the room. He immediately saw that the floor of the narrow hallway was decorated with several pieces of discarded garments strewn randomly about on the stone floor.

Diggs' pants. Your dress. Your bra.

"No..." Rafa groaned quietly as he took in the pieces of clothes with a hard gulp, the tears stinging in his eyes when he realised what he was being confronted with. "No, no, no!" he buried his face in his hands and took a deep breath to get himself under control again. His entire chest was on fire, the taste of stomach acid thick on his tongue. Everything around him went quiet as he heaved in a big gulp of air, wishing that he had stayed sober tonight. This was all getting too much; he couldn't control it. He was too drunk.

He took another big gulp of air, and was just about to slowly exhale when a soft sound hit his ear canal... It was coming from the other room.

A moan.

A sweet, heartfelt, sensual moan.

From a woman - from you...

It was the result of a sincere reaction to something that had brought you immense pleasure. A moan that someone else had brought to your lips. A moan that Rafa's best friend had brought to your lips.

Fuck! The itch in his hands that he had felt for quite some time now suddenly became too much and he punched the wall hard, causing an old, framed picture of him and Diggs to fall down, the frame shattering in several pieces on the cold stone floor. He stared at the broken shards of glass for a few seconds, torturing himself by carefully listening for more of your sweet moans echoing throughout the house.

They didn't come, however. The entire house was suddenly completely silent. Thank god.

Slowly, Rafa squatted down to brush the glass-dust off your dress, the silky fabric soft between his fingertips as he pulled the dress to his chest, thinking about what it would feel like to be the one to pull it off you.

Without warning, however, the silence in the hallway was broken by another loud moan coming from Diggs' personal space and Rafa was quickly brought out of his trance. He had to get out of there! He would go to a hotel or something! Anything to get away from the sounds you were making for another man!

Slightly panicked, Rafa shuffled to get to his feet, but overbalanced and fell forwards, his left hand immediately softening the blow as a reflex. From the moment his palm hit the floor, Rafa felt a sharp pain in his hand, but didn't realise that he had cut himself before he rotated his elbow and saw the huge piece of broken glass that was prodding out of his palm. "You're kidding me," he groaned as he tried to focus on the glass shard before he grabbed it tightly and forcefully pulled it out of his skin, the warm blood immediately running down his hand as a terribly sharp pain started pulling at his fingers. "OH FUCK!" he exclaimed a little louder than he had intended to, unable to hold back in his inebriated state.

Pressing in on the wound to try and get it to stop bleeding, he hurried to the bathroom and quickly located an old towel that he wrapped tightly around his bloody hand. "Shit! Oh fuck that hurts!" He groaned loudly and slid down the wall, his ass hitting the cold floor with a small thump. He could hear hushed voices coming from Diggs' personal space next door, and he realised that he had no idea what hurt the most; the thought of you lying in there wearing nothing but your panties, or his throbbing hand that had already bled through the old towel.

"Shit," he mumbled to himself as he replaced the old piece of cloth with a clean one, "ah fuck it hurts!" He hissed and tried to push the wound shut to get it to stop bleeding. It helped for a few seconds before the gash opened back up, fresh blood spilling out again. Just looking at it made him dizzy, and he realised that he couldn't handle this on his own. He was too drunk. He needed help. Embarrassed by himself and the situation he had put himself in, he took a deep breath before calling out the name of the last person on earth he wanted to see right now, "DIGGS!"

The hushed voices from the other side of the wall died down completely. They'd heard him. Still, there was no response to his cry for help. Meanwhile, the second towel around his hand was soaked through as well. What if he was about to bleed out? What if he was spending his last moments, pathetically heartbroken on his own bathroom floor?

"DIGGS!" he tried again, this time a little more panic to his voice.

The entire house was quiet still, and Rafa listened intently for few seconds before he finally heard an angry voice calling from the other side of the wall. "WHAT?"

"Diggs, I need your help!" Rafa called back, embarrassment flooding his voice.

"I'm kind of busy in here, Rafa!" Diggs bellowed back. Rafa had never heard him sound so annoyed before.

"Come on, man... I'm serious," Rafa let out a loud groan as he took in the bloody rag that was wrapped around his hand.

He heard cursing and shuffling on the other side of the wall and a few seconds later, the door to the bathroom finally swung open, revealing a very annoyed Daveed Diggs who was trying to hide away his boxer-clad erection with the palm of his hand.

Upon seeing how Diggs was already hard and ready to fuck Rafa's girl, there was no doubt: The pain in Rafa's chest definitely exceeded the pain in his hand.

Daveed

Daveed could not believe how lucky he was! He had barely closed the front door behind him before you had pulled him in for a string of sensual kisses in the dark. His lips were moving fiercely against your warm skin, your head lolling backwards as you panted and let him press you up against the wall in the hallway. He loved the sensation of your fingers tangled in his long hair as he attacked your neck and jawline with rough, affectionate kisses. You let out a small impatient pant as he untied the bow at the side of your dress, giving himself easier access to your beautiful build underneath as the dress opened up completely.

"Fuck, you look absolutely amazing," he cupped your ass and pressed his pelvis closer to you with a groan.

Your small fingers desperately undid the buttons of his shirt and Daveed quickly shrugged it off, finally standing in front of you in nothing but his dark blue slacks. His lips quickly resumed their positions on your neck where he immediately started sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin while running his hands all over your torso.

Your fingers desperately found the button of his slacks and Daveed felt the tight sensation of his pants against his crotch disappearing slightly as you brought down the zipper and slid the slacks over his hips. Your small hand was palming him through the cotton of his boxers, and he couldn't stop the groan that fought its way all the way from his stomach and up his throat. He heard you chuckling incredulously above him as you let your dress fall to the ground before you dropped down to your knees in front of him, determinedly pulling his boxers down over his thighs.

Daveed's mind went completely blank when he felt your hand cup his balls while your wet mouth found the tip of his straining erection. Your warm breath against him had him let out an involuntary groan, and when your plump lips kissed his engorged head, the sensation sent a shiver all the way up his spine. He pulled your hair away from your face and held it in a loose ponytail on the back of your head, your eyes interlocking with his in the process. Even though you had him between your teeth, the submissive look you sent him had him feeling incredibly in control! Without giving up eye contact, you kissed his head twice before placing a long, wet lick at the tip of his erection, immediately sending hard vibrations throughout his entire body. "Fuck," he groaned and caressed the side of your face when you wrapped your lips tightly around his head, sucking a bit at the tip.

"Mmmh, pull my hair!" you panted around him and he immediately tugged on the ponytail, buckling his hips closer to your face, desperate to feel the ecstasy of warm, wet, tightness around him again. To Daveed's relief you immediately obliged and slid your lips almost all the way down to his base and back up again, releasing him with a small pop.

"Oh fuck!" He let out a groan as he looked down into your huge, submissive eyes, slowly stroking your cheek. You repeated your motions, your tongue wet and soft against him as you bopped your mouth along his length, his hips meeting you half-way, "yeah, that's it, baby, just like that," he panted softly as you kept gazing up at him, upping the tempo and bringing him all the way down your throat with a slight gag, reminding him of how big he was.

Daveed had received many blowjobs over the years but never in his life had he felt more worshipped and desired! You were massaging his balls lovingly as you brought his length down your throat, hollowing your cheeks and making him feel completely taken care of as you focused solely on his pleasure and enjoyment.

He was just about to let go and cum down your tight throat before he reminded himself that he'd have to take it easy if he wanted to last long enough to fuck you. And holy shit, how he wanted to fuck you! He knew he was very good with his hips and hands and he wanted to bring you pleasures that you'd never even dared dreaming of before.

It was hard to do, but eventually he managed to pull himself out of your wet mouth and you to your feet with a gruff, "come here!". He unclasped your bra and tossed it aside before he pushed you up against the wall, took your nipple in his mouth, and ran his fingers along your lace-covered folds. You let out a soft gasp and he repeated the motions of his fingers while attacking your neck and throat with toothy kisses. You were panting and moaning underneath him, your hand still stroking his erection lovingly.

"Okay, okay, okay, you gotta stop," he licked the shell of your ear with a low chuckle, "I still have so many things I want to do to you," he smacked your ass and you let out a small whimper when his palm came in to contact with your skin.

Slowly, you let go of him and carefully caressed his abs instead as he re-claimed your lips. The kiss was deep and soft, and it made the straining sensation in Daveed's erection even more unbearable, but he was patient enough to not touch himself.

After a few minutes of intense, passionate kissing, you pulled your face away from his and looked up at him with a dark look in your eyes, "well, are you going to do something about it? Or are you going to just leave it at talking?" You chuckled against his skin.

"Don't get cocky with me," Daveed smiled and hoisted you up in his arms. You let out a small yelp, but still threw your legs around his waist and let him carry you to his bedroom while licking his ear. He carefully positioned you with your back against the mattress of his bed and hovered above you as he put his lips to your collarbone, slowly kissing his way down between your breasts, over your stomach, and stopping when he reached the top of your panties. He sat himself down on his knees in front of you, sending you a hungry look as he ran his fingers over your body. You looked him square in the eye and raked a hand through his curls, pulling his head back slightly. The anticipating look you were sending him made his erection twitch between his legs, but he still didn't touch it. Instead, he licked his lips and kissed the laces between your legs. "I love this colour on you," he growled against the thin fabric. He could feel you shiver underneath him as he pulled the red laces down your well-shaped legs, caressing your inner thighs lovingly. "Mmh," he hummed as you spread your legs for him, your fingers still tangled in his hair. Your chest was heaving up and down in a slow, steady rhythm as he placed small kisses on your skin, his tongue just barely grazing you. He enjoyed the way you closed your eyes and dipped your head low as he repeated this motion a few times.

Slowly, he slipped his tongue inside your folds, your lips gently spreading for him as he tasted you. You gasped slightly when he reached your clit and gave it a small flick before he slowly ran his tongue over you again. You were panting above him, your fingers caressing his scalp as your face was screwed up in pleasure. Daveed couldn't look away even if he wanted to!

He caressed the back of your legs with his hands before he had his fingers join his tongue at your core. Slowly, he inserted a finger into your wet heat and was rewarded with a deep moan escaping your lips. Desperate to hear you again, he inserted yet another finger, letting his digits and tongue work in unison until you finally let out another deep moan.

He could tell you were close to letting go completely, and it was all working out so nicely, your chest heaving up and down faster and faster as you moaned loudly for him, your nails finding their way to his scalp, pulling his face closer to you - when clash!

Out of nowhere, a loud shatter was heard from somewhere in the house. It sounded like glass breaking, but Daveed was used to Rafa's clumsy ass, so he ignored what he assumed was his best friend returning home after his night out.

Daveed did, however, feel you freeze slightly underneath him, and you pulled back the moan that had been just about to escape your lips and replaced it with a, "what was that?!" a slight panic to your voice.

"Relax, it's probably just Rafa," Daveed whispered and resumed his movements.

"What's he doing here?" You panted slightly but not as sensually as before.

"He lives here," Daveed growled against your skin, annoyed by the fact that your attention was suddenly directed at his best friend instead of the very pleasurable things he knew he was doing. To make sure that you forgot about Rafa, Daveed brought out the big guns and put his lips around your clit, vibrating them while his fingers worked their way in and out of you. It worked expertly, and it didn't take him long before he'd earned himself another loud moan coming from you. You looked as if you were completely lost in the sensations, he was causing you - but not for long, because suddenly a loud "OH FUCK!" from Rafa rang throughout the house. It was followed by hurried footsteps as Rafa ran to the bathroom that was located next to Daveed's personal space.

Daveed felt you shuffle underneath him as you put your weight on your elbows and closed your legs slightly, craning your neck as you looked towards the wall that Daveed's personal space shared with the bathroom. You had a concerned look in your eyes that Daveed chose to ignore. Instead, he kept going with his fingers and tongue, but you weren't moaning anymore.

"Shit! Oh fuck that hurts!" Rafa exclaimed loudly from the other side of the wall.

"Don't you think you should go check on him?" You asked quietly, your eyes still glued to the wall.

"No," Daveed said curtly, and tried to get you to lie back down again so he could continue. You didn't budge, however. You were more interested in the loud groan that was escaping Rafa. You let out a nervous laugh as you once again heard him cuss and groan from the next room.

"Ignore him," Daveed panted as he spread your legs apart again, his tongue immediately finding your core, and he was rewarded with a gasp from you. He had just started moving his fingers inside you again when he heard Rafa call his name loudly from the other side of the wall.

"DIGGS!"

Daveed froze for about a mili-second before deciding to ignore Rafa and continue moving his fingers inside you instead.

"Go talk to him," you chuckled and raked a hand through his hair, suddenly totally unaffected by his movements,

"He can wait. I'm far too busy," Daveed let his tongue run over you again, once more losing himself in your wonderful wetness.

Rafa however, pulled him back to reality by yelling out his name a second time, "DIGGS!!" causing you to slightly close your legs one more time.

"You're kidding me..." Daveed muttered under his breath as his face was forced away from your wet centre. "WHAT?" he ended up bellowing back to his best friend on the other side of the wall.

"Diggs, I need your help!" Rafa kept calling.

"I'm kind of busy in here, Rafa!" Daveed bellowed while looking into your amused eyes.

You were chuckling slightly, "he needs you. Don't you think you better...?" You sent Daveed a charming grin while nodding towards the door, "he sounds quite drunk..."

Daveed shot you a pained look.

"Go," you chuckled, "I'll still be ready for you in here when you come back. Don't worry."

"Come on man... I'm serious," Rafa bellowed through the wall.

"I'm going to murder him for this!" Daveed groaned in an annoyed tone of voice and got up on his feet with a loud groan. He quickly located a pair of boxers and packed away his erection before storming out of the room, closing the door to his personal space shut behind him.

He found Rafa sitting up against the wall in the bathroom, his eyes swimming with alcohol. "What, bruh?!" Daveed demanded as he locked eyes with him, "what's so important that it couldn't wait until morning?"

"...Were you sleeping?" Rafa slurred while looking like a total fucking idiot as his drunk eyes scanned Daveed from head to toe.

"Of course I wasn't sleeping! I was in the middle of eating pussy when you ruined it!"

Rafa looked as if he was about to throw up, "...you're about to fuck her?" He slurred.

"Yes?! So make whatever you want to say quick, 'cause I got a soaking wet woman waiting for me on my bed!"

Rafa looked up at Daveed with a pained expression but kept his silence.

"I swear to god, if you don't speak up now and tell me what the hell made you call me out here, I'll kick your ass!"

Rafa sighed heavily, looking as if he was about to tell Daveed someone else's secret but eventually croaked, "I hurt myself," while holding up his left hand that was wrapped sloppily in a blood-soaked towel.

First then, did Daveed notice that there were several splodges of blood on the bathroom floor. It made him drop the attitude slightly, "Jesus fuck Rafa, what the hell did you do?" He groaned and crouched down next to him on the floor.

"I knocked down the frame in the hallway," Rafa slurred and let Daveed examine the deep cut in the palm of his hand, "cut myself on the glass."

"You did a thorough job," Daveed mumbled with a sigh as he lifted the towel to check out the gash that was still bleeding heavily, "come here, run some water on it. I'll find some bandages." Daveed turned on the faucet and helped Rafa find his balance as he quickly pulled him to his feet. He could tell that Rafa was struggling to stand still as he swayed back and forth while leaning in over the sink, playing a bit with the jet of water. Daveed sent him an annoyed glance; he did not have time for this! "How much did you have to drink after I left?" he asked, the irritation practically oozing out of him as he looked for the first-aid kit in one of the cabinets.

"I dunno," Rafa mumbled sleepily as he watched the water clean the blood away from his hand, "a lot?"

"Yeah, so I'd guessed," Daveed mumbled to himself as he located the first aid kit and quickly pulled out a couple of rolls of gauze. "Come over here," he urged Rafa to sit down on the edge of the tub next to him.

Rafa gave out a small grunt and turned off the water, before turning towards Daveed with lazy movements. Daveed had to bite his tongue to avoid telling Rafa to hurry the fuck up!

Rafa's ass had barely touched the white ceramic of the tub's edge before he lost his balance and vigorously swayed back and forth a few times, finally catching himself by throwing his hand up against the sink, leaving bloody handprints all over the bathroom in the process.

"Jesus Christ, Rafa!" Daveed groaned, he did not want to deal with Rafa's drunk ass right now, "look, I'll help you with your hand but I'm not cleaning up out here!" He said harshly.

"Then don't!" Rafa muttered as he slowly slid down to the floor with a loud groan, sending Daveed and irritated look in the process.

"Come on; give me your hand," Daveed demanded, determined to be done as fast as possible so he could get back to you.

Rafa held out his arm and Daveed rotated it to look for more injuries and noticed that Rafa had bruised his knuckles quite badly too, "...have you been in a fight?" He furrowed his brows.

"Just fix my hand, okay?!" Rafa shot Daveed an annoyed look, "Make it stop bleeding!" He slurred and gestured to the blood that was already dripping from his fingertips again.

Daveed gave out an irritated grunt as he started wrapping Rafa's bloody hand in gauze, "sit still!!"

"Oh fuck," Rafa groaned as Daveed slowly draped the gauze over the sensitive wound, "fuck it hurts."

"Quit your whining!"

There was a knock on the bathroom door and Daveed slowly looked up from Rafa's bloody hand and towards the door instead. You were poking in your head, looking curiously at what the two men were doing, your hair a big mess. "Is everything alright in here?" You asked carefully as you stepped inside, tugging on the oversized shirt you'd put on to cover up your naked body.

"Rafa cut himself - and apparently he's too drunk to handle it alone," Daveed rolled his eyes so Rafa couldn't see. He registered your amused smile just before he turned back to the hand in his lap, immediately noticing the small change in Rafa's flexibility as opposed to before you had stepped in. His fingers had somehow gone weirdly stiff, and by further inspection, Daveed realised that Rafa's entire body was suddenly tense, the muscles in his jaw continuously flexing and relaxing, flexing and relaxing. Still, Rafa didn't bat an eyelid, he didn't even emit a single sound. He was just silently staring at you, his eyes going up and down your front, his breathing hard and heavy. Daveed shot him a weird look out the corner of his eye. What the fuck was going on with him? He had definitely had too much to drink...

"'s that my shirt?" Rafa slurred to you as he took in your attire.

Daveed briefly looked up at you and realised that the oversized t-shirt you were wearing were indeed Rafa's favourite Raiders shirt that Daveed had borrowed the other day. Rafa had a weird look on his face, and it looked as if he was about the say something crude to you, so to diffuse the situation, Daveed spoke: "let it go, bruh," he said in an uninterested tone of voice before he quietly turned back to wrapping the bleeding hand. Why the fuck would Rafa care if you were wearing his t-shirt or not?? He didn't mind Daveed wearing it.

"Oh..." he heard you say softly from the doorframe, "Raiders... I'm sorry. I didn't realise."

"Yeah, no. Don't be," Rafa said softly and Daveed was just about to give his best friend a mental pad on the back for having enough sense to bring his attitude around so quickly, but then he added an "- it looks good on you!" in a flirty voice that vexed Daveed so much that he felt a slow anger bubble in his chest. He let go of the bleeding hand and straightened his back as he looked over at Rafa with a hard look. He could not believe that Rafa had the nerve - the audacity! - to act so disrespectfully! What the fuck had gotten into him?! He had been a huge cock-block to you and Daveed and now he found it suitable to be flirting with you???

Daveed had to take a deep breath to calm himself down, in the meantime reminding himself that Rafa was drunk as fuck and probably not even aware that his words could be misinterpreted as more than just friendly... Therefore, he purposely ignored his best friend's impudent behaviour and instead made sure to keep his eyes down low so he could concentrate fully on wrapping up the bleeding hand, determined get the fuck out of there as fast as possible so he could get back to slipping you his famous techniques.

The wound in the palm of Rafa's hand was still bleeding quite heavily, and it didn't take Daveed long to realise that he needed more gauze to make the blood stop dripping onto the floor. "Shit," he muttered under his breath and looked over at you, "baby, can you get me more gauze out of the cabinet?"

You whipped your gaze away from Rafa's face, your eyes immediately finding Daveed's. The look in your eyes instantly shifted from something that Daveed couldn't quite place to soft and cute, a small goofy smile slowly erupting on your lips as you scanned his face. You didn't say anything, just sent him a curt nod before you quietly turned to the cabinet, looking for the first-aid kit on the bottom shelf. As you bent over in front of him, your t-shirt rode up high and Daveed got a beautiful glimpse of the red laces under the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing. Your panties were hugging your ass nicely, and for a moment, he forgot about the bleeding limb in his hand - all he could think about was touching you again! He wanted to snap the useless piece of fabric between your legs in two and delve his tongue into your wet heat, bringing you untold pleasu- ...he suddenly felt Rafa's fingers do a small involuntary twitch in his lap and he realised that his best friend was checking you out too, his mouth hanging slightly open, his eyes glued to your ass.

What the fuck was the matter with him? Had the roles been reversed, Daveed would never have checked out Rafa's girl!

Angry with his best friend, Daveed gave Rafa's arm a small smack while sending him a threatening look, daring him to keep staring at your ass. When his and Rafa's eyes interlocked, Rafa's face curled up in a sour expression but he quickly fixated his gaze on the floor in front of him instead, probably realising that Daveed could knock him out easily.

Meanwhile, completely innocent and oblivious to what had just happened behind your back, you stood up straight and handed Daveed two extra rolls of gauze before resuming your position in the doorway.

Apparently, Rafa had learnt absolutely nothing from Daveed's silent threats and immediately went back to staring at you again. Daveed contemplated shooting Rafa a verbal threat as well but decided against it when he realised how absolutely pathetic his best friend looked. He was drunk as fuck, his eyes all foggy and glossy. Daveed would confront him about his disrespectful behaviour tomorrow.

Still, the fact that Rafa was staring intensely at you while you were only wearing the slightly oversized t-shirt and your beautiful, beautiful panties underneath, made Daveed uncomfortable as fuck, so he worked double speed on Rafa's hand to get you away from the bathroom faster. Luckily, with the fresh supply of gauze from you, it only took him a few more minutes before he was done with the wrapping, a sigh of relief travelling through his body as he finally let go of Rafa's injured hand.

The tension in the bathroom could be cut with a knife and Daveed took a deep breath to calm himself down before breaking the silence by saying, "Look, I can bandage this to keep it from bleeding all over, but you need to go to the hospital for stitches or something."

"Mmh," Rafa grunted beside him, clearly not pleased with the situation. His eyes were glued to you, and he was wearing a certain hungry look on his face as he drank you in - and Daveed realised that Rafa definitely was aware of what signals he was sending.

What the hell was going on inside his pea-sized, idiot brain? Did he want Daveed to punch him? Daveed was just about to grab him by the collar when he heard you piping from the doorframe, "...I can take you."

...what? Daveed immediately turned his attention to you and saw the soft look you were sending Rafa as you continued, "I can drive. I almost didn't drink tonight."

What?! You liked Rafas stares?!

"You'd - you'd do that?" he heard Rafa whisper from beside him, a soft smile erupting on his best friend's lips.

Daveed didn't like it. He thought to himself that it looked as if the two of you had developed a secret language in the time it had taken him to wrap Rafa's hand. What the hell had he missed out on?

"Of course," you nodded slowly, your eyes still interlocking with Rafa's, "Let me just grab some pants, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Rafa whispered, a hopeful look on his face, "thanks."

What the fuck was going on between you two?

Daveed watched you send Rafa a small smile, your face flushed. The sexual tension was thick between the two of you, and Daveed felt the jealousy burn in his chest as neither of you were looking away from the other. How the fuck dare Rafa flirt with the girl that he had brought home?! How dare he send you those hungry looks?! It was itching in Daveed's hands to do something about the long, continuous gaze between you and in his frustration, he curled his fingers and accidentally pressed on Rafa's wound, making him hiss in pain as he shot back an angry look. Daveed was far too busy looking over at you, however. You finally had your attention directed at him - and not Rafa - your eyes huge and doe-like, looking as if you'd just woken up from a trance. He shot you a look as if to say 'what the fuck is going on?' and you gulped guiltily.

Suddenly realising that he finally had the full attention of both you and Rafa, Daveed spoke up in a voice that was much more strained than he had intended, "Nope! Not gonna happen! Uh-uh, absolutely no fucking way," he shot his best friend a hard look, "Rafa you can take a cab!" he turned his attention back to you, "Baby go back to bed, I'll be there in a second!"

He noticed your eyes skating between his own face and Rafa's and he sternly let out a "he'll take the cab, okay!" He didn't like the way you were looking at each other, and he still very much intended on fucking you tonight no matter how big of a cock-block Rafa was being!

He was trying to catch your eye, but you had your gaze firmly placed on Rafa again, seemingly unable to look away. Daveed noticed how you let out a small gulp as Rafa shot you a careful nod as if giving you permission to leave.

What the hell was going on????

He also noticed the long glance the two of you shared before you gently closed the door behind you as you exited the bathroom.

What! The! Fuck!

Daveed felt his chest bubbling over. He had never felt this way towards Rafa before, but his best friend had never looked more punchable! Automatically, his fingers once more pressed in hard on Rafa's wound.

"Ah! Dude what the fuck!" Rafa yelped loudly.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Daveed spat, "you're flirting with my girl!"

"She's not your girl just because you brought her home for one night, Diggs!" Rafa hissed angrily through gritted teeth.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Daveed felt as if his eyes were bulging out of his skull, "She's crazy about me! You should've seen the way she was begging for it at the bar!"

"Yeah, I saw everything," Rafa said slowly with anger in his eyes, a low growl to his voice as he drunkenly staggered to his feet, "I saw exactly how you swooped in and thought you could erase eight years of history between me and her!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Daveed hissed before his voice turned to frustrated yelling, "Rafa, you have no history with her!" he too stood up, so they were eye to eye, "you made out with her once eight years ago and now no one else is allowed to touch her?! If you wanted a shot with her, you should have done something ages ago!"

"I did do something ages ago! I kissed her!"

"Yeah! And then you had eight years of nothing! You didn't even talk to her! How the fuck was I supposed to know that you wanted to kiss her again???"

"You could have asked me!" Rafa yelled frustratedly.

"I could have asked you?! Come on, man!! You're thirty-three years old for fucks sake! If you wanted something to happen with her, you should've engaged yourself!"

"I was planning on doing so tonight!" Rafa hissed angrily, "and she would've said yes if it hadn't been for you!"

"No she wouldn't!" Daveed was minutes away from pulling out his own hair. How could Rafa be so thick?! "Don't you think that something would've happened by now if you both wanted it so badly?"

"Did you not see how she was eye-fucking me just now?" Rafa yelled angrily, sending Daveed a hard look.

Daveed let out a low growl, "yeah, meanwhile I was minutes away from actually fucking her! If she really wanted you, don't you think she would've given you more signals than a few pitiful looks because you're drunk and hurt? She doesn't want you, man!!"

"Fuck you!!!" Rafa spat angrily and shoved Daveed in the chest causing him to stagger backwards as he was pushed out of balance.

"What the fuck's the matter with you!" Daveed spat as he took a step closer to Rafa, balling up his fists and sending him a threatening look, "you really want me to beat you up?"

"Do whatever the fuck you want with me as long as you stay away from her!" Rafa yelled and gave Daveed another hard shove in the chest. His eyes were bloodshot and Daveed had never seen him this angry before.

"What the fuck's gone into you?" He yelled louder than before, "she clearly doesn't want you! Why can't you just let her go?!"

"Because I'm in love with her!" Rafa yelled loudly, spit flying everywhere. His eyes were huge and aggressive.

Daveed took a step backwards and stared at his panting best friend as his angry words sank in. Rafa's nostrils were flared, and it looked as if he was about to punch Daveed in the face.

...Rafa was in love with you? Daveed could punch himself! Why hadn't he seen it before? Of course Rafa was in love with you... He took a deep breath to calm himself down before he quietly spoke: "Yes - well I'm crazy about her too..."

Rafa was still panting heavily, his nostrils still flared as he shot Daveed a hard look - but he didn't say anything.

They had feelings for the same girl... Daveed frustratedly pinched the bridge of his nose as the realisation sank in; a girl had come between them. How high school... "Shit," he said quietly, "what do we do now?"

Rafa shot him a dark look and answered immediately: "you back down!" he said harshly but not as aggressively as before.

"I'm not going to back down, Rafa," Daveed answered him quietly. He full-on intended on making you his no matter what Rafa's feelings were.

"I've been in love with her for eight years!" Rafa spat angrily but he had stopped yelling, "You have for eight minutes! Don't you think it's more fair that you let me have a shot?!"

Daveed was getting more and more frustrated by the second but was happy that Rafa had chosen to use those exact words: "Exactly Rafa! You had eight years! You sat on your hands for eight years and you expect her to come running to you now? You expect me to let you have a shot? You've had millions of opportunities to do something!"

Rafa's face was still wild but his tone of voice was quiet and determined: "you saw the look she just sent me!" he said darkly.

Daveed had to give it to him; the way you'd been staring at Rafa had confused him too: "Listen, I don't know what the fuck that was, but if she had any feelings for you at all, why would she go home with me?" He said quietly, "why would she take off her clothes for me and not you?"

Rafa shook his head back and forth as if refusing to believe the argument, "No..." he croaked, "please don't say it like that, man..."

"Bruh..." Daveed sighed, "I'm sorry it is this way, but I don't know what else to tell you." He felt bad for Rafa but he wasn't going to back down. No chance.

"Please don't fuck her," Rafa pleaded quietly. His heart obviously broken.

"You know I'm not going to guarantee you that..."

"Just... Let me talk to her first."

"What do you expect to gain from that?"

"She wants to talk to me too..."

"Maybe - but it won't go your way. She's lying naked in my bed right now! She made her decision, bruh."

Rafa looked pained. He was clutching his chest with his eyes screwed shut, a small tear rolling down his cheek, "fuck!" he quietly worded before he fell to his knees in front of the toilet and threw up.

You

"I'm going to murder him for this!" Daveed pulled himself away from you and on to his feet, desperately looking around the room for something to wear. He finally pulled out a pair of clean boxers from his closet, pulled them on, and hurried out of the bedroom to see what was going on with Rafa. He had sounded very drunk and even though you had been slightly amused by his constant swearing throughout the house, the sound of glass smashing combined with his drunk cries for help, had also left you a bit nervous that something serious might've happened to him. What if he had cut himself badly and Daveed couldn't handle it alone? Rafa was your friend too after all. You had to make sure everything was all right with him.

Quickly, you jumped from Daveed's bed, pulled on your panties, and looked around the room for something to wear that could cover your body as your own dress had been discarded during the make-out session in the hallway. You quickly located a black t-shirt that was casually thrown over a chair in the corner of the room and pulled it over your head, grateful that it covered you all the way down to the top of your thighs. Ready to leave Daveed's bedroom, and with your hand already on the doorknob, you took a brief look at yourself in the mirror to make sure you were decent. You tried padding down your messy sex-hair but the sound of Rafa hissing in pain from the other room had you abandon any thought of trying to fix your looks - Rafa's injuries seemed much more urgent. Forcing your eyes away from your own reflection, you opened the door to the hallway instead and listened for their voices.

"Just fix my hand, okay?! Make it stop bleeding!" you heard Rafa slur from the room next door. He was clearly very drunk.

"Sit still!!" Daveed growled.

It sounded as if they had the situation under control and you were just about to go back to Daveed's bed and wait for him there when you heard Rafa exclaim, "Oh fuck! Fuck it hurts!"

It made you do a U-turn on your heel and you decided to check in on the two men to see if they were in need of any extra help. Softly, you knocked on the door but didn't listen for an answer as you immediately poked in your head and took in the scene in the small bathroom: the two men were sitting next to each other; Daveed on the edge of the bathtub with Rafa's bloody hand in his lap while Rafa was splayed on the floor looking very drunk. Both of them were looking directly up at you with equally soft expressions on their faces. Daveed's eyes were loving as he silently apologised for having to help his best friend clean up. Rafa, on the other hand, was staring up at you with a sorrowful look on his pale face, his eyes huge and red-rimmed, his Adam's apple bouncing up and down in his throat as he gulped hard.

The tension between them was thick, the air cold. Both of them clearly equally annoyed with the other.

"Is everything alright in here?" You asked quietly as you pushed open the door and stepped inside, tugging on your t-shirt to prevent it from riding up.

"Rafa cut himself..." Daveed rolled his eyes so only you could see before he continued, "- and apparently he's too drunk to handle it alone," he shot Rafa an annoyed sideway-glance before he turned his attention to the gauze and Rafa's blood-covered hand in his lap.

You watched Rafa send Daveed an equally irritated glance, looking as if he was biting his tongue to keep himself from retorting something nasty. He had probably already realised that he needed Daveed's help to get the wound to stop bleeding and that he wouldn't get it by being crass. So instead, Rafa silently let Daveed wrap his hand as his eyes slowly found yours, his expression immediately changing from annoyed to soft.

You sent him a small reassuring smile and a goofy expression emerged on his drunk face when he happily reciprocated it. You let out a small laugh at his expression and he blinked a few times, looking as if he was saving the sound on his mental hard drive. His foggy eyes were softly gazing up at you with a soulful look, and he looked drunk but cute as he took you in, a weird undertone in his gaze that you couldn't quite place. It was a look that you recognised from somewhere, but not from him - from someone else. You scanned his face one more time, raking your brain to find out from where you knew the gaze, he was sending you, but it wasn't immediately clear. Suddenly however, you realised that it was the same look that Daveed had sent you several times over the last couple of weeks. It was a look of longing.

Softly, you cocked your head at him, and he sent you a small, sad smile in return, his green eyes kindly taking in your face before they travelled down your body, ultimately landing on your chest. You immediately folded your arms, and he looked back up into your eyes, your eyebrows now arched in an unimpressed manner, silently tell him that he'd been caught staring red-handed. His face screwed up in a painful expression and he paled a bit before he quietly slurred, "'s that my shirt?".

Unaware of what he was talking about, you looked towards the mirror above the sink on the opposite side of the bathroom wall, and when you caught your own reflection, you realised that he hadn't been staring at your chest. He'd been staring at the logo on the t-shirt. The Raiders logo - his football team. You weren't wearing Daveed's shirt. You were wearing Rafa's.

You'd seen him in it multiple times - hell, he'd even worn it the night you'd kissed on top of the skate ramps. You remembered because every so often your mind wandered back to that night. Played it on repeat. Rafa's hand on your thigh as Stevie Nicks' voice rang in the background. Your tongues intertwining. The stubble on his chin soft between your fingertips. The scent of his warm cologne. The thought of your passionate kiss that summer night eight years ago was enough to make a warm feeling appear in your stomach.

Still looking at yourself in the mirror, you let your arms drop to the side and took in your own reflection. The t-shirt was a few sizes too big for you and it covered you like a short dress, just barely reaching below the red panties you were wearing underneath. The Raiders logo took up most of the front of the shirt and the logo curved nicely along your breasts and waistline, making the oversized men's shirt actually look as if it'd been tailored to you. You liked this look. You actually looked good in Rafa's t-shirt.

From far away you heard Daveed's voice, "let it go, bruh," and it pulled you back to reality.

"Oh... Raiders..." you said quietly, unable to pry your eyes away from the way the t-shirt was hugging your curves. No wonder Rafa was staring at you. You had gone home with his roomie, yet you'd put on his shirt - and you even looked good in it. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise," you croaked.

Rafa was looking as if he was thinking about the same thing as you, and for a second you were afraid that he might get angry about the fact that Daveed's flirt was wearing his beloved Raiders t-shirt, but he just softly said, "yeah, no. Don't be. It looks good on you..."

You didn't react to his words but merely stared at yourself in the mirror as the memories of your Tacos Locos summer once more flooded your mind - and you slowly felt a dull ache in your chest when you looked back at Rafa's pained expression and realised that maybe there was a reason for his look of longing, his quiet, pained reaction to seeing you half-naked in his shirt when you'd gone home with his best friend. He probably wasn't as cool with you and Daveed as Daveed had let on. Maybe your suspicion about why Rafa had invited you to join his production was right after all...

Oh no.

The thought of kissing Rafa again had grazed your mind several times in the period of time between his phone call offering you the job, and your first day on set where you'd been introduced to his best friend for the first time. Daveed, however, had immediately pushed every sensual thought of Rafa out of your head and had instead replaced them with unholy thoughts about himself. The sexual attraction that you had felt towards Daveed for the past month was insane and you were definitely crazy about him! ...Still, you wondered if he was the type of man, you'd still fantasise about eight years after having shared a passionate kiss in the dark. The same way you so often had found yourself fantasising about Rafa.

...had you just made a huge mistake?

Rafa's cheeks paled considerably as his gaze constantly shifted between your face and the Raiders logo. He was clearly affected by the fact that you were wearing his shirt and nothing else, and it looked as if he was having a hard time sitting still. The tender yet hurtful look he sent you made you feel horrible about yourself and all the decisions that had led to this exact moment. What if things had been different back in the taco truck eight years ago? What if he had actually taken you home after one of your late nights out? And what if Daveed hadn't been so persistent in hooking up with you over the last couple of weeks? If he hadn't been so smooth and charming, would he still have been able to swoop in right before Rafa? Or would you eventually have gone home with Rafa instead?

Would it feel more right to be sleeping in Rafa's bed tonight?

Oh no...

"Shit!" Daveed's voice brought you back from your panicky train of thought. You looked over at him, his face sweet and innocent as he was helping his best friend recover, and you realised: no, it wouldn't feel more right to be sleeping in Rafa's bed tonight. But it would feel just as right as sleeping in Daveed's.

"Baby, can you get me more gauze out of the cabinet?" he continued.

Baby. It had slipped out of him. He hadn't even realised it... The caring, handsome man in front of you had called you baby and you couldn't help but send him a small smile as it had made you soft. You were baby to him.

Rafa had a reaction to the pet name too: he looked as if he was about to murder Daveed.

Desperately trying to untangle yourself from the situation you had put yourself in, you turned over to the cabinets and pulled out more gauze, promptly handing it over to Daveed before resuming your position in the doorframe.

Immediately, you and Rafa went back to staring at each other again, both unable to look away. The looks he was sending you were deep and longing, his eyes pained as he grew more and more tense with each passing second. He looked as if he wanted to touch you, to kiss you, to hold you tight. Shit.

Your eyes were flickering fast between the two men: both of them sweet and handsome. Both of them crazy about you. You couldn't decide whether or not you had made a mistake by choosing to go home with Daveed tonight.

Daveed broke the tension in the small bathroom when he in an irritated tone of voice said, "Look, I can bandage this to keep it from bleeding all over, but you need to go to the hospital for stitches or something."

Rafa let out a small grunt without looking away from you. It looked as if he wanted to tell you something but was unable to with Daveed being present. It was heart-breaking.

You liked Daveed very much but realised that you had to talk to Rafa as well. You had to hear what he had to say, "...I can take you," you piped up in a voice that was weirdly nervous, "I can drive. I almost didn't drink tonight."

"You'd - you'd do that?" Rafa said in a whisper and sent you a warm look.

"Of course," you nodded slowly, suddenly desperate to talk to him, to hear his thoughts, "Let me just grab some pants, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Thanks," Rafa said quietly, his pained expression now completely replaced by a hopeful one.

Daveed had definitely noticed that something was going on with you because the annoyance was practically seeping out of him though he was trying his best to keep calm. He did something to Rafa's hand that had Rafa hissing in pain and shooting Daveed an angry look with his lips pressed together in a thin, white line.

Your eyes whipped over to Daveed as well. He was sending you a hurt look that said 'what the fuck are you doing?' and you gulped guiltily. Had he realised that you were unsure about what to do with the two men in front of you?

"Nope!" Daveed said loudly, shaking his head vigorously, "Not gonna happen. Uh-uh, absolutely no fucking way. Rafa you can take a cab!" he shot Rafa a hard look before he turned back to you, his eyes soft, but his voice full of irritation, "Baby, go back to bed, I'll be there in a second!"

There it was again. Baby. You looked into Daveed's soft brown eyes that were looking pleadingly back at you, your knees immediately weak. Slowly, you let your gaze wander a bit to the left and met Rafa's huge green eyes too. They also made you feel incredibly soft.

Daveed noticed your gaze drifting over to Rafa and harshly interjected, "he'll take a cab, okay!"

Rafa sent you a slight nod as if to say that it was alright for you to leave, and that he could handle Daveed and his bleeding hand on his own. Meanwhile Daveed was staring at his best friend with a murderous look in his eyes. You realised that they had to resolve some stuff too, so even though it hurt in your chest, you slowly turned away from the two men, and walked back to Daveed's bedroom. Just before the door to the bathroom closed behind you, you heard the beginning of an argument between the two friends: "Ah! Dude what the fuck!" Rafa yelped loudly.

To which Daveed angrily responded with a "What the fuck was that all about? You're flirting with my girl!" It was more a statement than a question.

You sat awkwardly on Daveed's bed, unsure of what to do now. Daveed had noticed the long looks between you and Rafa. Shit. Even though you hadn't intended it, you had still managed to turn them against each other.

You could hear their angry voices from the other side of the wall, but you didn't want to listen in on their private conversation, so you put your fingers in your ears. Their shouted words were not meant for you. It was a desperate conversation between two best friends, and even though you could've easily followed their screaming match, it didn't seem right to do so. Desperately, you pressed in on your ear canal and started humming softly to tune out most of their angry words. Still, snippets of their loud conversation penetrated your ears.

"Rafa, you have no history with her!" Daveed was yelling before Rafa's voice was heard a few seconds later: "Did you not see how she was eye-fucking me just now?" followed a little while later by a loud "Fuck you!" from Rafa and an angry "you really want me to beat you up?" from Daveed. They kept yelling loudly at each other, but you tried not to decipher their angry words as you found them private. There was a reason why they had sent you out of the bathroom after all.

After a few minutes, their angry yells finally died down completely and were instead replaced by muffled words in normal voices that you couldn't make out even if you tried. You slowly removed your fingers from your ears, instead burying your face in your hands, angry with yourself for having let it come to this.

Their muffled voices could be heard for a few seconds before the sound was disrupted by someone retching.

One of them was throwing up, the other completely silent. You listened intently for a few seconds to see if you could make out who was throwing up, hoping that the other would say some words of comfort, but neither of them spoke, and after about a minute of silence, you heard footsteps approaching the room you were lying in. The doorknob twisted and Daveed entered the room slowly, his eyes full of pain as he took you in. He sat down on the bed next to you, panting hard, obviously very upset about the entire situation. It hurt seeing him like this. And it hurt thinking about Rafa lying alone in the bathroom. You dried an annoying tear away from your cheek and just barely managed to reset your face before Daveed looked up at you with a sad smile. You did your best to look casual as if you hadn't got the faintest idea of what their screaming match had been about. You acted as if wearing Rafa's shirt meant nothing. Seeing his pained expression had done nothing. Hearing him sob in the bathroom made you feel no ways.

"Everything okay?" You asked Daveed carefully.

"Yeah," he grunted.

"How about Rafa?" you said quietly. Even the sound of his name hurt in your chest.

"He's..." Daveed's words died in his throat as he frustratedly buried his face in his hands with a deep sigh.

You gulped, "is he okay alone out there?"

"Can we please not talk about Rafa right now?" he said slowly.

"Yeah..." you nodded quietly, "come here," you folded your arms around his chest, hugging him tight. He pulled you on top of him and hugged you back, his strong arms squeezing you, bringing you comfort as if he knew what you were going through as well. You sat like this for a few seconds, your arms wrapped tightly around each other comforting the broken feeling you both felt in your chests until his lips slowly found their way to your neck, leaving sweet, sensual kisses to the side of your throat.

"Look," you said quietly, pulling yourself away from him and looking into his chocolate brown eyes, "it's not that I don't enjoy this, but I just think it's for the best if I go home."

"What? No?" Daveed looked up at you with a pained expression, "come on, we can't let Rafa ruin our night," he groaned and moved closer to you but suddenly paused, "unless you don't want to of course. I don't want to force you into anything," he looked carefully at you and you understood why. He wanted to make sure that you were comfortable with the decision you were making. Comfortable with him.

It made you realise that the fact that you were lying in Daveed's bedroom half-naked, meant that you had made your choice long ago. You needed to stick with it.

"Yeah, okay," you said and moved your lips close to his, kissing him softly.

"You have no idea how happy that makes me," he groaned against your lips and you felt him breathe a sigh of relief as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He quickly pulled Rafa's t-shirt over your head, and harshly threw it onto the ground next to the bed. You couldn't help but think of the symbolics in his heated gesture.

His warm hands immediately found your breasts and he started running his fingers over your nipples with a low growl. You enjoyed the confident, hungry look he sent you as you were once again bare-chested in front of him. He moved his face closer to yours, "I still fully intent on making you feel good and make you let loose a little," he repeated his words from earlier that evening with a smile and carefully pushed you down on the bed, a warm shiver travelling up your spine with his words and movements. He hovered above you before his lips started pressing small, peppered kisses to the side of your throat, his one hand running down your stomach and dipping down between your legs, making you gasp softly. His lips moved over your collarbone and down between the valley of your breasts, taking one of your nipples in his mouth, and making you arch your back against him, as you felt his erection pressed up between your legs. He groaned as he pushed his boxer-clad erection closer to you, looking down at you with an erotic spark in his eye. Your fingers found his soft hair and you raked a hand through his curls and reciprocated the look he was sending you; dark and sensual.

You were both getting lost in the sensations you were causing each other when you were interrupted by the sound of Rafa retching and his heart-breaking sobs from the next room. It made your stomach ache horribly and you interrupted the kiss with Daveed, looking towards the wall to the bathroom instead. "I'm sorry, I can't just leave him alone with that..."

"What? You're not serious?" He looked at you with a disappointed look on his face.

"Listen to him," you said softly, as Rafa let out another heartbroken sob.

"He'll be fine," Daveed responded harshly before he resumed kissing your throat.

You pulled your face away from him, raking a hand through his hair one more time, "he's your best friend. Do you really want him to be alone right now? He sounds so heartbroken."

"Trust me - you do not want to deal with him right now."

Rafa retched loudly.

"I'm sorry," you kissed Daveed briefly, "but I have to make sure he's okay. I'll be back in a second."

Daveed let out an irritated grunt but eventually let go of you so you could crawl down from his lap. You quickly found the Raiders t-shirt on the floor and pulled it over your head, exiting the bedroom in a swift motion.

You knocked quietly on the door to the bathroom and found Rafa lying on the floor next to the toilet sobbing quietly. "Rafa, honey, are you okay?" you said softly as you sat down next to him and carefully put your hand on his chest.

He took a deep breath and looked up at you with wet eyes. The gaze he sent you was bloodshot, but he wasn't as pale as before. Throwing up some of the alcohol had definitely done him some good. "Hey," he whispered in a raspy voice as he put his good hand on top of yours, closing his eyes again taking three deep breaths. You noticed that he didn't answer your question.

As you pulled your hand away from his chest to fix him a glass of water, he groaned at the lack of touch and sat up straight, sleepily resting his head on the edge of the tub, looking at you with tired, sad eyes.

"Are you done throwing up?" you asked him as you handed him the glass.

He took a big gulp and nodded "I think so... Listen, can we talk?"

You sent him a small smile, "tomorrow, okay?" you didn't want to cause him anymore heartbreak tonight, "let's get you to bed," you held out your hand.

"Yeah, okay..." he took your hand and let you pull him to his feet. He was still very drunk, so you had to help him with his balance, your arm tightly wrapped around his waist, "come here," you chuckled and walked him to his room with his arm draped over your shoulder. As soon as you entered his personal space, he threw himself down on the bed with a loud groan.

"You're not going to disrobe?" you chuckled at him.

"Yeah, no... I don't care right now," he said and closed his eyes, "I just want to sleep... Let this absolute shit night be over."

You guiltily shook your head and forcefully pulled off his Chelsea boots and socks.

"Are you trying to get me naked?" He joked sleepily from the bed; his eyes closed.

"I'm trying to get you comfortable," you chuckled, "you have to take off your shirt and pants yourself."

Rafa groaned but sat up straight before he pulled his shirt over his head. His eyes were still closed, and his long hair was falling in unruly strands around his face. He looked exhausted as he undid the button on his pants and slid them off himself, plumping down on the bed afterwards.

"You don't think I'll bleed to death, do you?" he groaned and lifted his bandaged hand a little.

"I'm absolutely positive you won't," you chuckled at him, "if it's still bleeding tomorrow, I'll take you to the hospital, okay?"

"Okay, can't wait," he smiled sleepily and gave out a quiet snore as if he'd briefly fallen asleep. He was lying flat on his back which gave you time to study the tattoos he had on his chest and forearms. Some of them you didn't like, others were beautiful. He had one on his pec that you'd never seen before.

"If I love you, I have to make you conscious of the things you don't see," you read out loud, looking at his chest.

Even though Rafa had his eyes closed and looked as if he was just about to fall asleep again, he knew what you were talking about and softly tapped the tattoo he had on his pec, "that's right," he slurred with a small smile. For the first time since he'd cut himself, he looked as if he was peaceful, and you tugged one of his long strands of blonde hair away from his eyes and behind his ear instead. Your fingers lingered on his cheek for a second and he kissed your palm with a small hum, "that means that I have to make you conscious of the things you don't see," he whispered before he drifted off completely.

"Alright Rafa," you chuckled quietly as you ran your fingers through his soft hair. He had started breathing heavily, already fast asleep, "thanks for explaining the words of your tattoo with the exact same words!" You got up from the bed and quietly closed the door behind you as you walked out into the hallway.

You'd only walked a few steps towards Daveed's room when the meaning behind Rafa's sentence hit you and you froze in place. Inside your head, the written words of the tattoo and Rafa's whispered words played on repeat. He hadn't explained the tattoo to you. He had told you that he loved you.

He loved you. Rafa was in love with you.

And you were walking towards the bedroom of his best friend. You turned your head slightly, looking towards Rafa's room. Should you go back to him? Or continue to Daveed? You were completely frozen in time, desperately looking between the two bedroom doors on either side of the bathroom in the hallway, realising that even though you might have been lying naked in Daveed's arms only minutes before, Rafa's words hurt so much in your chest that your decision-making was far from over.

Rafa's room was to the left. He had just confessed his feelings for you. Or, he didn't just have feelings for you; he was in love with you. Probably had been since your summer together in the taco truck. You wouldn't say that you were in love with him, but there was definitely raw, heated attraction towards him on your part as well, or you wouldn't still be thinking about your drunk kiss in the dark eight years ago, the way he was always able to make you laugh, his soft, green eyes. It hurt in your chest to think about how you'd potentially wasted eight years without him by your side. If you went to him, you'd either finally be able to stop thinking of him as 'the one who got away' and actually engage in something romantic with him - or you'd see that eight years of absence might have grown the heart so fond that you had put him on a pedestal that he couldn't live up to.

Daveed's room was to the right. He was waiting for you in there, probably ready to fuck you so good that you wouldn't be able to remember your own name. The preview he'd given you earlier tonight had definitely shown you that he was able to bring all your sexual fantasies to life! And you had craved his touch for so long, to feel his strong hands on your body as he slid into you while whispering sweet words in your ear. You and him definitely had some insane potential - not to mention the fact that he was already calling you baby! He was so crazy about you that you were baby to him! - but did you feel the same emotional attraction to him? Or was the warm feeling in your stomach whenever you looked at him all due to sexual attraction? Could you and he ever become more than raw passion?

No matter what, you'd have to choose between them. You couldn't have both. With whomever you chose, you'd never be able to have the other.

Carefully, you weighed both your options; left or right? Rafa or Daveed?

You started at both of their doors, unsure about where to go, but eventually made a decision. With a deep breath, you stepped closer to the wooden door, grabbed door handle and stepped inside, softly closing the door behind you as you took in the handsome man on the bed.

Tagging: @exrthangel @theatrenerd86 @lonelydance @ohsoverykeri @summerofsnowflakes @ramp-it-up @alexander-hamilhoe @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @riiyy @mysearchforgratification @janthony-stan @sillyteecup @biafbunny @einfachniemand @cashskid @namelesslosers @simpinforu @diggsbeatriz (Imma keep tagging you unless you say something lol).

....No spoilers in the comments please :-)

#rafael casal x reader #rafael casal #daveed diggs #blindspotting #battle of the bay boys #rafael casal imagine #rafael casal fanfiction #bay boys #they gon fight #sorry rafa #sorry diggs #sorry reader

121 notes · View notes

biggest-stupidhead · 3 years

Text

Bad Timing (Levi x reader) Part 10

Summary: How do you tell your friends that you’re falling for your big brother’s best friend?

Word Count: 4.9 K

The loud buzzing of the tattoo gun was beginning to annoy Levi. The little pricks less annoying than the drone of the machine. He winced as the needle skimmed over a sensitive bit of skin.

"Try not to flinch." Farlan scolded as he readjusted his grip.

"Tch, sorry." Levi apologized through gritted teeth. Farlan reached for a wipe to clean off the excess ink, revealing the nearly finished piece. Like his other tattoos, this one was no different, the design was drawn out in thin delicate lines of ink. He had chosen to get this one on his tricep. Farlan spun his chair around to show Levi the design in the mirror, a flower, more specifically a lily of the valley. More specific yet, the flower for the month of May, the month his mother was born.

He nodded in appreciation a she admired the thin stem that led up to delicate bell shaped petals. The stems faded into a two leaves at the base of the design, they were all that needed to be filled in before the piece was complete.

"It looks good." Levi mused as he stared at the aggravated skin, the black lines were outlined with red angry skin.

"Thanks, I must admit I'm a bit rusty." Farlan chuckled as he leaned in with another wipe to clean the tattoo.

"Could've fooled me." Levi muttered as he turned in his chair to give Farlan better access.

"Let me finish this up and then we can go grab some lunch." Farlan gave the tattoo one last wipe down before he wrapped it in sandiderm. Once he was pleased with his work he tugged off the gloves and tossed them into the trash.

"Sounds good." Levi grunted as he stood up from the chair. Farlan had picked up tattooing as a side hustle, not that he booked many clients. It was more of a hobby for him, but he was rather good at it. As Farlan cleaned up the equipment and packed it back into his bag Levi went into the bathroom to wash up before they left for lunch. Isabel was out with friends, she hadn't been particularly interested in visiting the University with Levi and Farlan.

____

Levi trailed a few paces behind Farlan as they wondered through the sprawling campus. The campus had a dark academic vibe to it, with all the gothic architecture and the snowy lawns. Levi's trip was coming to a close, and he was glad that he had managed to squeeze in the visit. He spoke to an advisor, who was very enthusiastic about him applying. He figured that him coming from a single parent home, being an orphan with dual citizenship and good grades probably looked good for their statistics. So Levi and Farlan left, packets of information that they would need to apply. He decided that he should give Erwin a call, since he would be coming back home on the 26th, he originally intended on coming back after the new year but Hange had convinced him to come back early. Of course it was intended to be a surprise for Erwin and (Y/n), he felt bad for leaving Farlan and Isabel early but he figured that he could make up for the lost time when he got accepted into the University. They would have him all to themselves for four years if everything went according to plan.

"This place looks as good as any." Farlan paused in front of a small pub not too far from campus. Levi shrugged and kicked a chunk of ice out of his way. Farlan held the door open for him as they ducked into the dimly lit bar. The two settled into the barstools facing an impressive stock of alcohol, since it was about three in the afternoon the bar was basically empty save for a scraggly old dude that was mumbling to himself in a booth.

"Come here often?" Levi huffed as he inspected the sticky bar top. Farlan chuckled and waved for the bar tender.

"No actually, but I've heard that it's popular with the uni students." Faralan explained as he waited for the bar tender to finish counting the money in his hands.

"Two gin and tonics please." Farlan asked politely, the bar tender nodded and began to make the drinks.

"So you leave in what five days?" Farlan asked as he grabbed his drink and took a long swig.

"Yeah, sorry it was kind of last minute." Levi apologized, Farlan waved him off dismissively.

"Wait what did you get Isabel for Christmas this year?" Farlan asked as he slammed his already drained glass onto the counter.

"I bought her the DVD set for that one show she likes." Levi answered as he nursed his gin and tonic.

"Ah no way! That's a good one! The veterinary show right?" Farlan gushed, clearly impressed with Levi's choice of gift.

"Yeah that's the one." Levi nodded, a small smirk spreading across his lips.

"She'll love that. I got her some new jeans and a stuffed animal." Farlan shrugged, as he motioned for another drink.

"Not the shittiest choice." Levi mumbled as he brought his glass to his lips.

"Thank you Levi." Farlan held his glass up for a toast, and Levi indulged him, gently tapping his glass against Farlan's. Levi knocked back the rest of his drink before pulling out his phone to check his messages.

"What time should I pick you up from the airport?" Levi pursed his lips in thought before responding to Hange's text.

"Six in the morning." he typed his response quickly and sent it. He had already planned on arriving early to give himself plenty of time to prepare himself for the annual post Christmas party that your family hosted.

"See you then, don't have too much fun in France!" Hange's reply was instantaneous, Levi hated to admit it but he missed four-eyes and bushy brows. Hell he even missed Erwin's bratty sister.

_____

You draped your arm over your eyes in a feeble attempt to block out the blinding light that was flooding your living room. Although the snow was pretty, it sure was a bitch when the sun hit it, causing the light to reflect sharply in through the large windows in your living room. It was finally Christmas break, and you were enjoying it to it's fullest, basking in your sweats on the couch. Your mom had just gotten back from grocery shopping and was beginning to set out ingredients for the baking that she had planned to do for the rest of the afternoon. Erwin and Hange had gone ice skating with Mike and Nanaba, and planned to all meet up back at your house to assist your mom with the seasonal baking. Your phone chimed on the coffee table and you stretched to check it.

"Coffee and chill? 🥺" You rolled your eyes at Jean's message. He had been trying to contact you relentlessly for the past week. You had evaded him, not quite ready to confront him about his wrong doings. You ignored his text and instead favored to ask Mikasa if she wanted to come over to bake.

"hey I know it's been a while, but want to come over to bake cookies with me today? You could bring Armin and Eren if you want!" You sighed and dropped your phone back down onto the table with a sigh. You were pleasantly surprised by how quickly she responded.

"What time?"

"an hour?"

"See you then :)" You smiled at the screen as you read her response. You always thought it was cute how she preferred to use characters instead of emojis when she texted. You decided that a shower would be a good idea since so many people were coming over now, so you hustled up stairs. You were thankful that Hange and Erwin weren't home because they had made a habit of interrupting your showers. Whether it was Hange trying to join you in the shower to "save water" or Erwin coming in to take a massive dump while you were in the shower. So you fully took advantage of your uninterrupted shower time while you could. You took your time, washing your hair and the rest of your body and enjoying the hot water. By the time you were finished the bathroom was cloudy with steam from the hot shower. You wrapped yourself in towel and scurried to your room to change. You pulled on a pair of leggings and a cropped fitted turtleneck. You then proceeded to tug on a faded crew neck to complete the look. You loped down the stairs, but paused about half way down. The sound of shoes being toed off and a coat being hung up made you rethink your decision.

"Oh Kenny! I'm so glad you made it!" Your mom gushed and you bristled. It wasn't that you didn't like Kenny, it was just that you weren't expecting him. It seemed that your house needed to keep an Ackerman on hand at all times because as soon as Levi left Mikasa and Kenny began coming around more frequently. Your mom invited Kenny over for coffee on Sunday mornings and you invited Mikasa over for sleepovers and craft nights.

"Hey sorry I'm late, I brought booze though." Kenny's rough voice felt foreign to your ears. Despite his sudden presence at your house he still felt like a stranger to you. Of course you could only blame yourself here, you tried your best to avoid him and his questions, not sure how you felt about the gruff man. He seemed nice enough but you weren't quick to trust him, Erwin certainly wasn't either.

"Ah (Y/n)! Perfect timing! Come down stairs and say hello." your mom called out, you winced but obeyed, descending the last few steps.

"Hey there kiddo, how's it hangin'?" Kenny drawled as you slunk into the kitchen sheepishly.

"Hey Kenny, I'm good how are you?" You asked politely, aiming to please your mother more than Kenny. The man smiled triumphantly and leaned further back into his seat.

"I'm fantastic." he stated with a smug smirk plastered on his lips.

"Mom, I invited Mikasa, Amrin, and Eren over is that alright?" you asked, dismissing Kenny.

"Yeah of course baby, the more the merrier!" she cooed as she continued to set up the mixer and prop up the cook book.

"So my little niece will be joining us tonight?" Kenny affirmed as he stood to help your mother untangle to cord of the mixer.

"Yeah." you trailed off, not sure if this was good or bad. Although the pair had both been frequenting your house recently, they hadn't run into one another yet. You knew that Levi had a bad relationship with his uncle, so you could only assume that Mikasa's relationship was also just as rocky.

"haven't seen that brat since she was in diapers." Kenny mused as he flipped through the cook book.

"really? Well she sure has grown. Such a lovely young woman." Your mother sighed dreamily as she thought about Mikasa.

"Glad to hear it.." Kenny mumbled as he paused on a gingerbread recipe. Before you could decode the meaning behind his bland tone, the door flew open and Hange sauntered in. Today she was dressed for the weather in a downy parka and leggings with a thick crewneck. Erwin followed close behind, dressed in joggers and a t-shirt, he tended to get hot easily. Mike however was different. Mike was dressed for Arctic temperatures with a thick quarter zip underneath his north face and a pair of denim jeans on his legs. Nanaba wore a quarter zip as well but leggings instead of jeans. You rushed to help them shove their coats into the cramped closet and put snowy shoes over vents to melt off the ice. Soon they were all crowding into the kitchen, Mike was quick to help your mom set out ingredients while Erwin went to light the fireplace. Hange was rushing up the stairs and Nanaba was skimming through the cook book.

Ah yes such a familiar scene. You immediately felt better in the presence of the upperclassmen, Kenny seemed to melt into the background as he watched you all fall into a familiar rhythm. Erwin returned to the kitchen, dusting his hands off as he entered.

"Hey." He greeted you with a slight nod before he stooped to pull a baking sheet out of the cabinets.

"How was ice skating?" you asked as you leaned against the counter near Erwin.

"Cold, we saw Petra and Oluo there." Erwin mused as he sat the sheet down with a clatter.

"Really? Are they a thing?" you quizzed, your interest piqued.

"Couldn't say, wouldn't surprise me though." Erwin shrugged, his large frame pressed against the counter opposite to allow Nanaba to squeeze through.

"I don't know Erwin, last time I spoke to her she seemed pretty fixed on Levi." Nanaba interjected as she stooped to pull out a bowl.

"I thought she was over him. He left her hanging at my house a few months back remember?" Mike reminded Nanaba who pursed her lips in thought.

"Oh yeah I remember that...she was upset." Nanaba agreed as she sat the bowl in front of you on the counter.

"Then why was she with Oluo huh riddle me that." Erwin challenged, a sly smirk on his lips.

"Oh they've always been close, doesn't mean she likes him or anything." Nanaba scoffed.

"Well he sure likes her, saw him checking out her ass." Mike chuckled, your mom gasped and hit him upside the head.

"That's enough you guys! (Y/n), Kenny mix cut this butter up." Your mom ordered, grabbing you by the bicep to drag you over to Kenny at the island. She dropped a huge brick of butter in front of the two of you along with two butter knives.

"Oh I can do it on my own mom." you insisted with wide eyes.

"Nonsense, show Kenny how it's done." she slapped you on the back and turned to help Mike crack eggs into the wet ingredients bowl. You and Kenny shared an uneasy glance, you took the knife and sliced the chunk of butter in half. You slid half to Kenny and took the other half for yourself. You began to slice the butter into thin chunks and drop them into a bowl. Kenny watched with raised brows, the knife hanging loosely in his hand. You spared him a glance and an amused huff.

"Just slice it into chunks and drop them in this bowl." you instructed, pushing the bowl closer to him. He chuckled and then began to tediously cut the butter into uneven chunks. You nodded in approval as he began to gain confidence.

"Where does this go once it's done?" Kenny asked as he finished chopping the butter.

"In the mixer." You directed, as you wiped your hands on a damp rag. The doorbell chimed and you weaved through the kitchen to answer it. You were greeted by the familiar faces of Mikasa, Armin, and Eren. The trio piled into the house and kicked off their shoes and shrugged off jackets.

"Perfect timing guys, we just started making cookies." You said as you helped Armin out of his coat.

"Great! We brought our piping tips." Eren said, holding up a plastic bag filled with piping equipment.

"Oh yeah I forgot that you're a natural at cookie decorating Mikasa!" you complimented as you guided them into the kitchen. You placed the bag next to Kenny who was staring at Mikasa with slightly widened eyes, she returned his gaze with a surprised expression.

"Hey hothead!" Hange called out to Eren in a sing song voice as she descended the stairs.

"O-Oh Hange!" Eren cringed at her volume as she swang into the kitchen.

"Hange!" Armin cried out excitedly, you'd known that Armin looked up to the brunette due to her intelligence.

"Aw hello coconut head." she cooed as she ruffled Armin's blonde mop of hair.

"And baby Ackerman!" Hange giggles, turning her attention to Mikasa who was scowling at the brunette.

"So nice to see you all!" Hange gushed as she pulled on an apron.

"That was an awful long shit. You constipated or something?" Mike scoffed as he whisked the eggs.

"Ha ha very funny Mike." Hange scoffed as she sidled up next to Erwin who was crushing almonds loudly with a rolling pin.

"I'm just trying to pick up the slack. Someone needs to make Levi's crass jokes for him." Mike sighed, setting the whisk aside.

"Ah I'm sure he will appreciate the sentiment." Erwin approved with a chuckle and another jaw-rattling smash of the rolling pin.

"Kids why don't you start rolling this dough out and cut them with these." Your mother instructed as she thrust the large mixing bowl into your hands and pointing over to Kenny. You led Mikasa, Armin, and Eren over to the open counter space. Mikasa was side eyeing Kenny as she sprinkled some flour out.

"I want to make a penis." Eren remarked, a stupid look on his face as he looked to Armin for approval.

"That's inappropriate Eren." Armin chided as he reached for the dough in the bowl. He dropped the heavy ball of dough with a thump and a whoosh of flour.

"Hah! I'd like to see it!" Kenny chortled as he brushed some flour off his shirt.

"See he gets me!" Eren chuckled as Armin began to roll out the dough. Mikasa and you both rolled your eyes at the boys. Nanaba breezed by and brushed her hand across both yours and Mikasa's shoulders as she passed.

"You girls want pizza?" She asked with an angelic smile as she stopped by the landline.

"Yes please!" Eren answered before either of you could.

"Shut up Eren!" You snapped before turning to look at Nanaba who was holding the phone up to her ear already.

"Yes please Nanaba, can you put pineapple on one of them?" you asked with a sweet smile.

"Ew pineapple on pizza are you insane?!" Hange screeched from across the kitchen.

"Now now, if you order one with pineapple I'll eat it." Kenny agreed as he pressed a cookie cutter deep into the dough.

"Ugh, you guys are disgusting." Mike shook his head in disappointment as he poured the liquid ingredients into the dry ones for the next batch of cookies.

"Alright everyone be quiet while I order this." Nanaba ordered as she pressed the phone between her ear so she could jot down the orders on a pad of paper. The volume in the kitchen fell from a roar to a soft murmur as Nanaba placed the order. Once Nanaba hung up the phone the bustle picked right back up. The cookie hustle only stopped once all the dough was in the oven and the pizza had arrived.

When it was all said and done you all settled in the living room to watch christmas movies and eat pizza. As the movie began to play you finally took some time to check your phone for the first time all afternoon. You were surprised to see at least twenty messages on instagram from a swagmasterfarlan. You clicked on the first message and your frown deepened.

"cutte assf."

"Let me show you parish"

"I cantreat you right."

":)"

The seventeen other messages followed a similar pattern. You noticed that the last message that had been sent two hours ago. You glanced at the clock and frowned, it was already eight pm. You considered blocking the account but upon checking, you realized that it was Farlan's side account. You'd seen drunk texts before and these were no different. You glanced up to see Kenny with his hat over his eyes as he snored on the arm chair. Your mom was already dozing off on the couch with her feet in Erwin's lap, Erwin had an arm around Hange who was babbling about special effects to no one in particular. Nanaba and Mike were in their own little world on the floor as they watched the movie. Eren and Armin were joking in hushed voices as Mikasa's head lolled against your shoulder. Yeah you could use some entertainment.

"I would love to see parish." you smiled at your response as you sent it. Not two minutes later a new message appeared.

"Woh, I'm durnk as shit."

"yes you are swagmaster ;)" you responded with a giggle.

"Let facetime before levi punches my face." Farlan's words were becoming clearer so you figured that he must be sobering up to some degree.

"Alright." as soon as the read receipts confirmed that he had gotten the message your phone buzzed as he called you. Mikasa grunted as you shifted to answer the call, you answered on the third ring, thankful for the darkness in the room which concealed your features for the most part.

"Heyyyyy kid!" Farlan drawled, you could tell he was in his apartment, the surroundings familiar due to the times you had facetimed Levi.

"Hey Farlan, nice to finally meet you. I've heard all kinds of things." You chuckled as he squinted at his screen.

"No kidding! Hey what time is it over there?" Farlan questioned as he brought his phone closer to his face, giving you a perfect view of his eyebrows.

"It's about 8:30 here, what time is it in perish?" You mocked his blunder from earlier and he gasped in offense.

"That's cold!" he moaned, playing along with your joke.

"Spell it right next time!" you snickered, you glanced up from your phone and met Hange's curious gaze, her head tilted to the left. When you returned your attention back to your phone you were surprised to see the camera was no longer on Farlan's face. Instead it was spinning, the sound of grunting and shuffling was deafening. You winced the struggle continues for a few moments before there was a thud and a deep groan.

"Get into bed now before I punch your lights out." Levi's voice was gravely and strained with exhaustion as he spoke. Hange's ears were still perked as she tried to figure out who you were on the phone with. Once she heard Levi's voice she stood up and skipped over to the sofa to sit next to you.

"I'm serious Farlan this isn't cute get the fuck in that bed or so help me-" the phone clattered down to the floor, and you could make out the sound of stumbling footsteps.

"What is going on?" Hange asked as she leaned on your free shoulder to see the screen. You shrugged and bit your lip as you tried to decipher what was going on.

"No Levi, I've got to talk to her, she's still on the phone!" Farlan grumbled, his voice sounded a bit far away.

"You can talk to her tomorrow just go lay down already." just by the tone of his voice you could guess that he was pinching the bridge of his nose the way he did when he was frustrated.

"nah I'll just go grab my phone and-"

"No." the sound of bed springs creaking and Farlan grunting hinted that he had been pushed onto a bed. After a few more moments of the bed creaking and incoherent mumbling, the sound of footsteps approached the phone and then finally the camera was turned back towards the ceiling as it was picked up. And then Levi's face filled the screen, his eyes widened in surprise, you snapped a screenshot of the moment much to his displeasure.

"What the fuck." he huffed as he took in both you and Hange's amused expressions.

"Hey Levi! How's it going?" Hange cooed as she angled your wrist to show more of her face.

"How-"

"He called me." You answered quickly as you angled the phone back onto your face.

"why?" Levi interrogated. You simply shrugged as you took in his face. You were relieved to see that he looked the same, maybe his eye bags were a bit darker, and his hair a tad longer. But otherwise, he was the same.

"What are you doing?" Levi continued to grill you, to answer his question you panned the camera around the room, sure to not linger on Kenny who was snoring in the chair across the room.

"Thrilling." he scoffed when you brought the camera back to your face.

"Yeah, we spent the day baking. What about you? Seems like you guys are busy." You began your own interrogation.

"Yeah, Farlan had one too many at the bar." Levi agreed as he dropped down into an arm chair with a heavy sigh.

"And you? Did you have anything to drink?" Hange asked with a sly smirk. Levi's brow creased at her suggestive tone.

"If you must know, no I did not drink.... a lot." he answered.

"Lucky, I wish I was drunk right now." you sighed wistfully.

"I never said I was drunk." Levi clarified.

"Any big plans for your birthday Levi?" You asked, quick to change the subject.

"No, just dinner and gifts." Levi replied with a shrug as he sank into the chair.

"That sounds nice." you smiled, Hange dropped her head to your shoulder, her chin digging into your shoulder as she did so. Levi shrugged and averted his gaze for a moment.

"Where's Isabel?" Hange asked as here eyes scanned the background, which was too dark to really reveal anything.

"In her room playing some stupid video game." Levi scoffed as he cocked his head in the direction which you assumed Isabel's room was.

"Fun." Hange mused as she closed her eyes.

"And you? What are your plans for Christmas?" Levi's question surprised you, but you still answered.

"Same as always, gifts in the morning, breakfast, hopefully be plastered by 2." you sighed, Levi scoffed at your answer but seemed satisfied.

"What about the 26th?" Levi asked carefully. you pursed your lips as you thought about your schedule.

"Hmm well I'm not sure, probably-"

"Oh I forgot to tell you, Annie is hosting a party and asked me if you'd come." Mikasa's sleepy voice startled you.

"Really? Huh that's weird. Are you going?" you asked, tilting your face down to speak to her.

"Yeah. We're smoking weed." Mikasa mumbled, her eyes still shut.

"Guess I'll go too." you shrugged. Meanwhile Hange and Levi shared a wide-eyed glance, this could throw off their plans. More specifically Hange's plans, even more specifically her plan to set you and Levi up.

"Weed?" Levi asked, clearing his throat after the word fell from his lips. You knew that he had smoked the stuff in the past, but recently he had stuck to his juul and the occasional dab pen.

"yeah, Annie has like 30 grams right now." Mikasa answered.

"I've never smoked weed before." you mused, excitement bubbling up in your chest at the thought of the chance for a new experience.

"Eh it's okay." Mikasa shrugged.

"Guess I'll just have to try it for myself." you teased, nudging her with your shoulder.

"Guess you will." Mikasa mumbled before falling silent once more.

"Well there you have it. I'm going to Annie's on the 26th." you smiled as you answered Levi's original question. With the 26th only three days away, it gave you something to look forward to.

"Fine. Do what you want." Levi rolled his eyes and stood from his chair, his whole vibe seemed to change. You wondered if it had been something you'd said or if he was just growing bored.

"I've got to go. Farlan's phone is almost dead." Levi said as he walked through the apartment.

"Oh well it was nice-" before you could finish he had already hung up, or the phone had died.

"Classic Levi." Hange chuckled as she rose up, stretching her stiff muscles before returning to Erwin's side. You rolled your eyes and sat your phone down in defeat. You reached behind you for a throw blanket to cover you and Mikasa, you shuffled over a bit so you were snuggled between the arm of the couch and Mikasa, who had followed you. Using the arm as a pillow you lied down as much as you could with Mikasa still using your side as a pillow, she had stretched out as well to prop her feet up in Eren's lap. Eren was already passed out, his head leaning against Armin's shoulder, who was in a similar position to you. It was nice, you hadn't made much time for nights like these recently. Since you had spent most of your time with Jean you had neglected your friends, and you felt awful about it.

You had missed them deeply, in fact this had probably been the longest you'd gone without a weekend like this. Your family had been close to the Jeagers since you were babies. Your mom and Dr. Jeager both worked at the same hospital and often worked together, they had only grown closer when your father died of cancer when you were 9. Grisha and Carla had helped your mother our a lot the months following his death. Meaning you spent a lot of time with Eren and Mikasa, and by extension Armin. That same year was when they took in Mikasa since Kenny had been deemed "unfit" for a second child in his care. You assumed that the Jeagers would be coming over for Lunch like they always did on Christmas, as well as Armin and his grandfather. You felt your eyelids grow heavy as you thought about all the preparations that were needed for you to host this year, and before you knew it you had fallen asleep.

121 notes · View notes

ehovocrown · 3 years

Text

Ground Zero

Author: ehovocrown

Pairing: Alpha Team (Special Ops) Captain Byun Baekhyun x Air Force Lieutenant Reader

Genre: Special Forces!AU, Angst

Warnings: Cursing, slight sexual content, violence, mention and use of combat weapons

Author’s Note: Hi there! this is the first one shot that i’m posting on this account, it’s been collecting dust on my notes app so i thought maybe it finally deserves to see the light of day. :’)

Word Count: 2,017 words

—

Smoke bombs & gunshots were his norm, weaving through the constant precipitation of bullets as he fought every waking day for freedom, honour, and protection. Meanwhile for her? The skies were her territory, unlike him who was totally grounded on soil, she was the captain of the skies. Flying, fighting, and pursuing freedom in the air. But there was one thing that they had in common, and it was that every waking day was a fight for survival.

—

[Spring 2017 - D-1 to special ops]

“Operation failed. Our troops and allies are all dead. ARE YOU NOT GOING TO FOCUS?!” Captain of the Special Ops Unit Byun Baekhyun’s booming voice resonated through the warehouse, frustration and anger clearly evident in his features.

“I’m sorry Captain!” The youngest soldier replied, earning him multiple sighs of exasperation from his team followed by a whirling sound and sudden gasps.

A knife, flying ever so closely by their captain’s head only to impale itself on the wooden panel behind him.

“Get your fucking boy scouts together Byun! Or maybe go the fuck home.” Captain Kim called out, snickering as he turned to the group of laughing soldiers behind him.

Baekhyun scoffed, turning around to pluck the combat knife from the panel. “If he keeps doing shit like this I might have to rebel again.” And with that he whirled the combat knife back towards its original owner, making sure with exact precision that it would end up on the wall between the laughing captain’s legs, right in between where it would hurt.

The snickering was definitely put to a halt, and both teams suddenly found their captains heading toward’s each other, hands balled into fists and ready to salvage their own pride.

But the fight never came, because just as they were about to deliver their first hit, Baekhyun felt the cold barrel of a glock against his temple.

“Break time’s over boys. Looks like the regiment has been going too easy on you for your troops to be playing around like this.”

The captain turned slightly towards his aggressor, only to lay his eyes on a lady, his lady, in her Air Force uniform, long hair cascading past her shoulders making it impossible for him to see her rank, or her name patch.

“Easy, do you even know how to use that?” Baekhyun taunted as he motioned towards the gun that was still pointed at him, the lieutenant raised a brow, smirking at the captain’s obvious arrogance.

“Looks like playtime is over for you, Byun.” The other long forgotten captain spoke, snickering once again at the sight of Byun Baekhyun who was currently at the mercy of the Air force pilot.

Captain Kim’s glory moments didn’t last long though, because his snarky remark earned him a kick from Y/N who clearly had both him and Baekhyun at her mercy.

The kick landed behind his knees, causing him to fall to the pavement, pride clearly shattered to pieces, ironically the same one that he was trying so hard to salvage just a few minutes ago.

“Play time is over for you too, take your squad back to your quarters or you will receive word on disciplinary orders tonight.” Y/N spoke simply, and Captain Kim wasted no time in leaving.

On the other hand though, the coldness of the barrel did nothing to aid Byun Baekhyun’s pride, deciding that he too was tired of being held hostage, the captain moved swiftly to snatch the gun from the lieutenant in front of him.

First, a grab on her wrist.

Second, his hand overpowering hers.

Third, a quick snatch of the weapon from her delicate hands.

And fourth? Turning the tables so that her back was now pressed against his chest, his arm keeping her restrained while his other hand dismantled the gun in front of her face.

“Do not, play with me like that ever again.” His voice was deep and hoarse as he whispered against her ear, “understood?”

Y/N simply rolled her eyes, scoffing at the captain’s sentiments.

“As if. Did I hurt your pride Captain? Angry because you didn’t get to dig your fist into your opponents smug face?” Her tone had the captain smirking in no time, turning to his men to subtly signal them their dismissal.

He watched them leave, now relieved that the eyes that were watching him and Y/N were gone.

“Lieutenant, i think you’d be falling for me in no time once you see me in combat.”

The lieutenant only scoffed, turning to face her lover the moment he released his hold on her.

“I think you’re wrong Captain.” She whispered, arms wrapping around his waist and her words ghosting against his lips due to their close proximity.

Personal space was now a foreign concept and neither one of them were willing to let go, not when they are so grateful that the both of them were able to see each other again.

“And why is that?” The captain hummed against his lover’s lips, his heart feeling fully content in her presence.

“Because, there will never be anything attractive about seeing you get hurt.”

Baekhyun only shrugged in reply, deciding that he has been patient long enough he took her lips into his, pressing a passionate kiss that dripped of longing and worry that his heart was unable to suppress as his lover went on her mission approximately 5 nights ago.

Her return felt like heaven to him, and he knew just as well as she did that this was the consequence of falling in love in the force. But neither one of them were willing to give up what they had, even if that meant living in a state of anxiety when one of them would get deployed.

———————-

Back in the captain’s quarters that night they found themselves tangled in sheets, bodies speaking not with a language of words but with passionate kisses and thrusts, of fingers that were intertwined so tightly that both their knuckles turned white, and of heavy breathing as their names escaped each others lips in pleasure.

For Baekhyun? Hearing his name on Y/N’s lips was his revival. In every day that he was deployed to the field he felt like half of him was already in the grave not knowing whether he would even make it out alive.

But here with her, with every passionate kiss, every loving and lustful touch, every mark that he left on the canvas that was her body, and as his name escaped her in sighs of pleasure, he knew that he was fully alive. He knew that his heart had every reason to keep on beating.

But for the lieutenant?, For Y/N, Baekhyun was her grounding force, her safe haven. He was home, and the captain of the sky barely made it home today but she wasn’t going to tell him that.

And as she embraced being on the receiving end of the captain’s every kiss, and every touch and everything else in between, she held on to him, flipping them over so that she could return the favour.

Her every touch left goosebumps on the captain’s skin, kissing the scar on his temple, down to the one on his chest, and the other on his hip. And with every passing second that she spent straddling him, she poured all her love onto him in ways that he could also feel.

And with a climax that ran through them more intensely than the wages of war, they both prayed to the heavens to not take this love away from them. Not when each other was the only form of sanity left for them to hold on to.

——————-

[Spring 2017 - Special Ops d-day]

“Promise me you’ll fight.” Y/N whispered as she worked on buttoning up the captain’s uniform.

“Promise me that you will do everything in your power to stay alive.” She placed his dog tag over his head watching as it landed on his chest.

“Promise me, that i will see you again and not just your tag being handed over.” The lieutenant stepped back, eyes still trained on the dog tag around her lover’s neck.

R.O.K. ARMY

Byun, Baekhyun

- 050692

Blood Type: O

“Captain Byun Baekhyun, promise me that you will come home.” And she raised her arm in a formal salute with utmost respect overflowing despite the tears that fell relentlessly down her face, and the Captain did the same.

And as they stood in his quarters with a silence that was as deafening as the aftermath of an exploded grenade, Byun Baekhyun spoke. Not with with words but with a kiss that conveyed everything that he wanted to say to the lieutenant who stood before him, I love you, until my heart stops beating, and maybe even then I’ll love you.

_________________

[5 years later]

“Mommy these flowers are pretty!” the little boy smiled as he eyed the bunch of roses in his hands. The roses that resembled the scar that sat on his father’s temple, and the same scar that sat on his.

“They really are, aren’t they Raiden?” Y/N smiled at the boy who was walking beside her, kneeling down so she could face the little boy better. “Should we give them to daddy?”

The little boy flashed a toothy smile as he nodded, never letting go of his mother’s hand.

“Mommy, where did i get this necklace?” The little boy asked in curiosity as he examined the silver tags around his neck.

Y/N smiled at her son, eyes welling with tears as she watched her little boy try and read the letters on the tags.

“Rai, you know that Daddy was a very brave man right?”

“Yes mommy!” Raiden smiled, to him Byun Baekhyun was a hero, like the avengers as he would like to call it.

“Well Rai, daddy used to wear that necklace whenever he would fight bad guys.”

“-Then why do I have it now?” the boy tilted his head, confusion evident on his innocent face. And in that moment it was as if the former lieutenant’s heart broke all over again, and as she suppressed the tears that were threatening to spill she looked at the picture of her lover. One that sat behind the glass window next to an empty urn that held nothing but an engraving of his name.

“When daddy had to fight for the last time, he asked uncle Sehun to give it to mommy.”

“-but why mommy?”

Y/N fell silent, how could she possibly explain to her little boy that it was because his father was not supposed to be identified incase he was killed on enemy grounds? How was she supposed to say that his father surrendered his tags because he knew that the operation was a suicide mission? How was she supposed to explain, that until the very end his father gave it his everything, but it wasn’t enough for him to be able to come home, and so he left his tags for the woman that he was no longer going to be able to come home to. His way of saying, I’m sorry, but i will always be here, and you will always be my home.

Taking a deep breath, the former lieutenant gathered her thoughts, “because daddy wanted you to remember him Raiden, that’s his way of saying that he will always be with you.”

The little boy nodded again, eyes still scanning the tags he wore before noticing the same ones that hung around his mother’s neck.

Examining both his father’s and mother’s necklaces, Raiden looked on with curiosity, “what does it say mommy?”

Y/N took both tags in her hand for her son to see.

R.O.K. ARMY

Byun, Baekhyun

- 050692

Blood Type: O

R.O.K. AIR FORCE

Y/L/N, Y/N

- 080514

Blood Type: _

“This is daddy’s name, and this is mommy’s name.” Y/N explained, and the little boy smiled with pride. Then she flipped the tags over, a new engraving, one that she had made shortly after Raiden came into her world.

To our son Raiden Byun, we will love you even after our hearts stop beating.

— end.

124 notes · View notes

vannahfanfics · 3 years

Text

Stereo Hearts

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Denki Kaminari, Kyoka Jiro

Hello, everyone! It is my pleasure to present my story for the @kmjr-mini-bang! A super big thanks to my partner @chiztec who drew an absolutely stunning piece to accompany my story, as well as Amii and nish, who were kind enough to beta my story. I hope you all enjoy the finished product!

Denki sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that night. He laid on his bed, thumbs twiddling as his hands were clasped over his stomach. His worried gaze could have bored holes into the ceiling if he had the right Quirk. He felt a little silly, fretting so relentlessly over something as simple as a high school graduation. For most students, it was a time of excitement, a chapter of transition in their lives as they went bungling on into adulthood. Denki was eagerly looking forward to getting out there and showing the world what Chargebolt could do. Adulthood wasn’t exactly what he was worried about.

He hadn’t told Kyoka that he loved her yet.

“Jeez, that sounds right out of some corny chick flick,” he groaned and rubbed his palms over his eyes. He grimaced as nervous sweat smeared across his face. He flopped his arms back down against the bed with another forlorn exhale, eyes lidded as he envisioned the beautiful, talented girl he’d fallen head-over-heels for their first year. Everything had seemed to get in the way of professing his feelings for her, and also, he felt a little… unworthy. He was a great big massive dork, not nearly cool enough to even be seen with someone as pretty and sophisticated as Kyoka.

He’d probably short-circuit and go into “yay” mode when tried to confess to her.

Groaning, he rolled onto his side to grab his phone off the charger. It wasn’t like he was sleeping anyway. As he unlocked it, his thumb came to rest over the screen, and his golden eyes stared at the time burning in white numbers in the center of the display. The time was inching closer to midnight. Soon, it would officially be the day of his graduation. The realization sent a sinking feeling spiraling into the pit of his stomach.

He was running out of time. Everyone made well-intentioned promises to keep in touch after high school, but everyone knew that almost never panned out. You went on, to college or to a career, you got insanely busy, and next thing you know you haven’t talked to anyone you know in years and made new friendships. Denki swallowed thickly, mindlessly bringing up his favorite picture of Kyoka in his gallery. She was smiling brightly, so hard her eyes were scrunched up into little half-moons. She’d made that face for Denki when he’d surprised her for her birthday with an expensive album she’d been eyeing since its release. When she’d smiled at him like that, he’d almost electrocuted everyone in the room because he’d been so damn in love.

He was still so damn in love.

He pulled up Kyoka’s contact information. His fingers hovered over the keyboard. Would she even be awake right now? He wondered with a tiny sigh. Probably not. It was the middle of the night. Still, he found himself texting out a message.

Hey, are you awake?

He rolled back over and set the phone down on his chest to stare up at the ceiling again. He fully expected his message to go unanswered, so he began losing himself in the confusing stream of “what ifs” and regretting every moment he never chose to tell Kyoka how he felt. He was so lost in thought that he nearly jumped out of his skin when the message alert rang through his quiet bedroom. He fumbled with his sweaty hands to pull up Kyoka’s response.

Yeah, I’m awake. What’s up?

A sappy smile bloomed on his lips, and he rolled over, snuggling into his mattress while typing out his reply.

Just thinking. What about you?

Three dots popped up on the message screen, quickly followed by a simple, Same.

Denki ruminated on his thoughts for a moment, thumb hovering over the keyboard. He didn’t even really know what he wanted to say, or what he wanted to do. He wasn’t enough of an ass to confess to Kyoka over text, no… It had to be more special than that, something that she was deserving of.

A cheesy grin slowly appeared on his face as he recounted a conversation he’d overheard— Kyoka talking to Mina about her favorite romance movie tropes. Believe it or not, Kyoka secretly adored them and often requested them for the girls’ movie nights. He’d always stored that information in the back of his mind, just in case it would ever become useful…

Yeah… he thought deviously. He threw off his covers and scrambled over to his closet to throw on something halfway-decent. He couldn’t profess his undying love in a pair of All Might pajama pants, after all. He inspected himself in the mirror after wiggling into a pair of skinny jeans and a band tee-shirt that Kyoka had bought for his last birthday. He licked the palm of his hand to slick down the flyaways in his blond hair, turned his face left and right, and then gave his reflection finger-guns.

“You got this. You’re a stud. Ladies love ya!” He grinned encouragingly. He held the expression until his face hurt, trying to will the confidence into existence. Then, he flopped his arms and hung his head in defeat. “She’s probably gonna laugh,” he snorted. “But,” he added, peeking through his bangs at the mirror. “I still gotta try!”

Before his courage could fail him, Denki snatched up the vintage stereo sitting on his desk— another birthday present from Kyoka— and scurried out of the room, hopping on one foot down the hall trying to slip on his Converse. He slowly tip-toed past Tenya’s dorm clutching his stereo to his chest; their class representative had a nose for trouble, especially Denki’s shenanigans, and had caught the blond many a night trying to sneak away and get up to no good. It seemed that luck was on Denki’s side this evening, as he made it to the stairwell without inciting a peep for the tall bespectacled boy’s room. He breathed a sigh of relief and gathered himself for a moment before proceeding downstairs.

He treaded carefully, having long since memorized the creaky spots in the wood in his many misadventures. The tip of his tongue peeked out of his lips as he used the sparse moonlight to guide his steps down to the first floor. It was slow going, but the even best-laid plans were ruined by haste. He could feel his cell phone vibrating in his back pocket, probably Kyoka wondering why he suddenly stopped texting her.

All in due time, my dear Kyoka! <3

When Denki reached the first-floor landing, he cautiously peered out into the gloom. It wouldn’t be the first time he surprised another student who had fallen asleep in the lounge, or worse, Mr. Aizawa, who had relocated to the common room to stay up late grading assignments. Thankfully, Lady Luck was generous and granted him passage through his second trial; the lounge was empty.

Denki stole away through the darkness, like a thief in the night, to the back door. He grimaced as it creaked loudly and looked over his shoulder. After an agonizing half-minute of silence, no one emerged from the dark to scold him, so he elected that the coast was clear. He slipped outside, and the warm wind immediately enveloped him, clouding him with a cologne of night-blooming flowers and dew. He stared out into the side alley, the concrete path that led him to the space just beneath Kyoka’s balcony— and began to doubt.

I’m really going out on a limb here, he gulped and clutched the stereo to his chest until the metal creaked. His absolute worst nightmare wasn’t Kyoka rejecting him… but laughing at him. He tried to tell himself that Kyoka would never do something so callous, but he worried all the same. It was such a frightening thing, putting yourself out there. The mind tried to worm its way out of it whenever possible.

But it’s now or never! Even if she laughs at me… If I don’t do this now, I’ll regret not doing it for the rest of my life!

Denki was going to go out on this limb, even if it broke underneath him and he plummeted headlong into bitter heartbreak. He could always put himself back together again. Resolute, he tromped down the small alleyway to the rows of balconies jutting out from the dorm.

He counted under his breath until he found Kyoka’s sliding glass doors and fluttering curtains. He set the stereo down by his feet and finally pulled out his phone to discover a series of confused messages from Kyoka.

Hello? You text me first, and then don’t answer me? What’s up with that?

He smiled, sensing that playful bite in her tone that he’d fallen head-over-heels in love with.

Come out onto your balcony, he answered. Before he could stow his cellphone, it buzzed with a quick reply.

What? Why?

Just do it! He insisted in mild panic. He’d failed to consider that Kyoka would just tell him to shove off and go to bed. As nervous sweat condensed on his forehead, he heard the faint click of the door. He jerked in shock, inadvertently dropping his phone face-down on the concrete. He cringed, already imagining the crack spiderwebbing across the glass screen.

“Denki?” he heard Kyoka call suspiciously as he ducked down to hit the power button on the stereo. It automatically started up a CD of Kyoka’s favorite songs that he’d burned on the off-chance that he would need it. Just as she came to the edge of the balcony, he straightened up and swept his hand through his hair, smiling bashfully. Her eyes widened, refracting the moonlight as her ears drank in the pretty tune streaming from the stereo’s large speakers. “Denki?” she repeated perplexedly. “What are you doing?”

He nudged down the volume with his toe while a blush rose to his cheeks.

“Look, I know this is corny as hell, and you probably don’t appreciate being called out at three in the morning, but I’m kinda desperate here,” he admitted, nervously rubbing at the back of his neck and chuckling. “You know how I told you I was thinking? I was thinking about you. How your smile lights up my whole life, and when you sing it sounds like an angel walking this Earth, and how damn lucky I feel to have shared these last three years with you. How cute you are when you laugh, and gush about romance movies when you think nobody notices, and how badass you are that it leaves me breathless.”

As he rambled on and on about everything he absolutely adored about her, Kyoka’s face glowed like a pink opal in the moonlight and her wide eyes glimmered like gems. By this time, the noise had attracted the other girls from their dorm rooms, and they sleepily peered out at Denki pouring out his heart and soul to their startled classmate. His cheeks darkened with embarrassment, but he’d already said so much; there was no going back now.

“I was thinking about how stupidly in love I am with you, and how if I don’t tell you now that I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. So I love you, Kyoka, and I’d be really stoked if you’d go out with me.”

A ripple of gasps rang out from the girls’ mouths, and they all looked expectantly at Kyoka. The girl gulped audibly and pawed at her dark hair, which was sticking up in odd places and tousled with sleep. Her earjacks nervously writhed above her shoulders and her eyes cast down as she considered Denki’s confession. All the while, he stood there holding his breath, waiting and listening to the love song serenade the silence.

He was beginning to feel a bit faint and like he was going to start sparking when her eyes finally flickered up to meet his own.

“I’d be really stoked to go out with you, too.”

The girls erupted into cheers and squeals, jumping up and down while clapping their hands. Kyoka blushed under their ecstatic congratulations. Their whoops and hollers attracted the boys from across their halls, meandering out onto the girls’ balconies to investigate what all the fuss was about. Denki shrunk under all the attention, twiddling his fingers and turning as red as a tomato.

“Aw, congratulations, you two!” Izuku called with a big smile.

“It’s about damn time,” Katsuki grumped from beside Eijirou and Ochako. “I was getting sick and damn tired about him mooning over her like a lovesick sap.”

“Hey, bro! Don’t you have a nicer way to say congrats?” the redhead scolded, making Katsuki snarl.

“Denki Kaminari!” came the expected chastising. Denki flinched and grinned apologetically at Tenya, who was gestating emphatically on Tooru’s balcony with his nightcap flapping. “What is the meaning of this? I understand the romanticism, but it is the eve of our graduation ceremony! It is imperative that we be rested to do justice to our prestigious institution, not straggle in like zombies! Have you no sense of decorum?”

“Oh, can it, class rep,” Mina chided. Tenya leaned down over the balcony railing with an affronted gasp. The pink girl’s smile was wide as she winked at Denki. “So, stud. Are you gonna just stand there, or are you gonna come give your new girlfriend a kiss?”

“Mina!” Kyoka hissed, turning her head so hard and fast that Denki swore he heard her bones snap. Denki jumped, stuttering nonsensities, and dipped down to retrieve his stereo. It was still blaring as he sprinted back into the dorm and up the stairs. Kyoka was standing in her doorway as he came barreling up the steps, tripping over the laces of his Converse and nearly plowing headfirst into the wall. The rest of the students watched with bated breath, crowding in the other doorways and on the steps behind him.

“Hey, Kyoka,” Denki swallowed, holding the stereo to his chest as he timidly approached her. His breaths came in ragged gasps from his rapid staircase sprint, and a sheen of sweat stuck his hair to his forehead. He doubted that he looked the picture of handsome— but Kyoka still smiled coyly as he approached, tucking her hair behind her ears and staring at him like he was her knight in shining armor. His golden eyes never left hers as he set the stereo on the floor and rubbed his palms on the denim fabric of his jeans.

“Hey, Denki,” she smiled shyly. His heart fluttered just at the sweet sound of her voice, and he swore he fell in love all over again in that moment. His body moved instinctively as his mind was ensnared by her unconscious charm, stepping close to her and using his index finger to slowly tip up her chin. He sucked in a breath, enchanted by her shy little gaze and slightly parted lips.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“Just kiss her already, you asshole, I’m tired!” Katsuki yelled from down the hall, making both of them jump. He heard Eijirou scold him under his breath and elbow him in the ribs, making Katsuki unleash a string of unflattering curses. After the fiery blond’s grumbles had died down, Denki smiled bashfully at the pink-cheeked Kyoka. She fluttered her eyelashes demurely, then flickered her gaze down to his lips.

Well, if he was waiting for an invitation, that damn sure was it.

Without further ado, Denki leaned in to gently capture her in a sweet kiss. His heart sung as she hummed slightly, making his hair stand on end. He almost wondered if he’d strayed into a dream, that his fantastical whimsies had come to fruition only in his subconscious. However, when he pulled back and opened his eyes, he knew he was awake. He could never dream the way she looked at him then, with such utter adoration that it made his heart ache.

“All right. Show’s over,” Katsuki grumbled, skulking off toward his room. Denki rolled his eyes but leaned down to finally switch off the stereo. When he straightened back up, their classmates had retreated into their rooms— leaving them alone. Kyoka shyly swung from side-to-side, hugging herself with a sheepish grin.

“That was pretty smooth,” she admitted.

“Really?” he asked excitedly. Her cheeks darkened a shade of pink, and then she nodded. Denki suppressed the wild urge to embarrass himself with a happy jig. Kyoka would probably find it charming, but he wanted to hang on to some sense of decorum, as Tenya had put it. After several minutes of staring adoringly at one another, Denki finally drawled dreamily, “Well… We should probably get back to bed… Tenya’ll be mad if we’re tired at the ceremony tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” she said, sounding just as enthused about ending the moment as he was. Neither of them moved for several seconds. “You should go, Denki,” she reminded him, finally prompting his sluggish body to move. He scooped up his stereo, never breaking eye contact, before rising to clutch it to his chest. “I’ll see you later,” she reassured him with a light laugh, before retreating into her room. She didn’t close the door, just gazed at him like he’d hung the moon in the sky— and he would, for her.

“Yeah,” he said as he began backing away towards the end of the hall. When she finally shut the door, he risked his happy dance, jitterbugging back to his room. Just as he flopped onto his bed, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out with furrowed brows, and then broke into a stupid smile.

I’m looking forward to our date.

His thumbs flew across the screen to type up a reply as he rolled on his side and snuggled into bed.

Me too. Goodnight, Kyoka.

She must have drifted off, because there was no reply. That was all right. After a minute of goofily admiring her contact picture, he finally put his phone on the charger and settled into bed. Sleep took him easily this time, gifting him dreams of what was to come.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#kamijiro #kamijirou #jirokami #jiroukami #kaminari x jiro #jiro x kaminari #denki kaminari #kaminari denki #kyoka jiro #jiro kyoka #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha fanfic #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction

61 notes · View notes

dragonswithjetpacks · 3 years

Text

Campfire Conversations

-dragonswithjetpacks

Summary: Astarion is bored at camp. And his target for the night... is Ferelith. Through persistence and bribery, she indulges him in casual conversation.

Read here on Ao3.

Despite the three bedrolls she had placed next to the fire, Ferelith still found it difficult to gain any comfort. She rolled up one side, placed her pillows against, and even placed a rock behind them to prop them well enough to use as a backing. She sat upright, flipping through her book, sketching in magic symbols and making small notes. At her side was another set of smaller books, one she would thumb through on occasion to double check her accuracy. All was quiet other than the whispers from the fire, which was precisely what she had asked for. But then again, there was always one who was never too keen to listen to what she wanted.

"What are you doing?" he announced his presence, bending over her shoulder as he peered into her book.

Ferelith blinked disapprovingly, giving him a side glance from the corner of her eye.

"Ah, yes, you're quite right," he sighed. "I don't care... I'm bored."

Again, she said nothing, but he took her silence as an invitation. He stepped over the log onto her blanket, with his boots still on, making her cringe as the dirt made a subtle foot print. He sat next to her, propping himself on one of her pillows. It appeared it was not good enough. And he removed it, fluffing it to perfection before placing it behind him once more.

"That was accident," he winced at the wrinkled and dirtied mess he left in his wake.

Kicking his feet to the side, he straightened his corner and brushed the dirt off lightly. It mattered little, as she had already to planned to wash it the moment he placed his boots onto her finely stitched threads. Her annoyance was made quite clear with a loud sigh, her book slowly lowering to her lap.

"I suppose I'm the one lucky enough to oblige you tonight," her face was calm but he could feel the irritation burning into him. "What would you ask of me?"

"You could light someone on fire," he shrugged with his bottom lip sticking out.

Her eyes shifted upward in thought of the idea. "I could. But I'm afraid I'm not so amused by your form of entertainment."

"You would be if you'd let me show you," he raised a brow.

Much to his disappointment, the only reply she gave was yet another one of her famous blank stares. He wondered where she went sometimes when she looked at him like that. Any normal person would have thoughts filled with disgust, though that was only humorous and much to his liking. But Ferelith was different than most. The look was usually empty. It was only until recently he noticed her eyes would often widen and her lip would curl upward at one corner. At least he knew he got some kind of rise from her.

"Where did you get those books?" he asked when he noticed he was losing her attention.

Ferelith was not easily distracted. When she was focused, there was nothing that could tear her eyes away. He had discovered this, unfortunately, through a series of trial and error in an attempt to know her true nature. Most things ended in eye rolls, rarely out of annoyance, but mostly with sarcasm. There were also multiple occasions where he was completely ignored. Which he found rude, but reasonable. It was actually a bit of a surprise she was speaking to him, now.

"A bookshop," she replied, tilting the book back up.

"Not an ordinary bookshop."

Her eyes flicked in his direction.

"Let's see," he picked a few of them up, many no bigger than a pocket book. "Arcane, Illusion, Mystic Runes... my, my... these look handwritten for personal use."

"Put those back where you found them, please," she commanded without so much as a glance.

"These look like spell books," he began to flip through the pages of one. "If I had to guess, anyway. I'm usually decent at guessing, though."

"You know if you look through the grimoire of another without permission, you'll gain the hex of that grimoire."

He suddenly dropped all three. Ferelith smiled wildly, her eyes still scanning the runes in her larger book. He hadn't noticed before, but while she was writing with one hand, the other held a book in place, often darting to another to scour through it's pages. It was like they had to separate minds of their own. The hand writing or sketching was moving very fast, but her penmanship was impeccable. He leaned over - careful not to disturb her- and saw she was copying whatever she was scanning from the other, smaller books.

"These are your grimoires?"

"No," she replied.

"So how is it you are able to look at them?"

"I have permission."

"I don't understand how someone so straightforward can have so much mystery about them," he shrugged. "It's somehow both annoying and attractive."

"That's precisely the impression I aim for," she smiled again, smaller and sweeter this time.

The sigh that came from him was intentionally loud enough for Ferelith to look up from her work. She observed her companion pull himself onto his feet, placing his hands on his hips next to her bedrolls. He looked about the camp when suddenly, he had a reasonably good idea. She had hoped his walking away would mean he had given up. On the contrary, however, she watched him walk over to Gale's things and begin to rummage through them. Suddenly, Ferelith was intrigued with the rogue. More than likely, she was interested to see if he got caught. Unfortunately, he did not. Instead, he came waltzing back across the camp with a rather large pep to his step, a large bottle in one hand and a goblet in the other.

Careful not to defile her blankets a second time, he seated himself next to her, closer than before. He fought with the cork inside the bottle for a moment, but sent it sailing into the air with a loud pop with the edge of his knife. He poured himself a glass, brought it to his nose, and inhaled it deeply followed by a satisfying exhale. He looked to Ferelith, who had regretfully not been able to look away. He had to admit, he won half the battle. But as he held up the wine as an offering, he felt there was more of a fight to be had. Ferelith rolled her eyes. Reached over to a flat stone next to her blankets. And grabbed her empty goblet. She reluctantly held it out as he poured the contents into her cup. There was no hesitance as she brought it to her lips, her eyes dropping back down into the book without any further acknowledgement to Astarion.

"I don't even get a thank you," he complained.

"Thank you," she said before looking into the goblet a second time. "This is actually... quite nice."

"I hear the words, but I don't really feel the gratitude."

Ferelith looked up, finally giving him the contact he craved. There was always something unsettling he found looking into her eyes. They were yellow. But not like fire or the sun... no. Her eyes were pale. Like that of a once green plant craving attention; something to hydrate it, nutrients from the soil, or even just love.

"Fine," she said, tapping the ink to make sure it was dry before snapping the book shut. "I will indulge you."

"Words I've been waiting for all night," he shook his head and leaned forward.

Ferelith sat her work beside her, pulling her knees up and turning to her side. Her robe was of black lace and didn't do anything to add to comfort or practicality. But if there was one thing the traveling band of misfits learned about the warlock, it was that she wasn't always about the practical use of an item. She was very fond of beautiful things. And as she considered Astarion, she was inclined to admit the she was fond of his beauty as well. He knew this, using it to his advantage and tempted her at every chance he received. Ferelith was fully aware of the predicament she had somehow placed herself into. Which gave her more reason to ignore him. And as obvious as she made it, that did not prevent him from trying. Relentlessly.

"Tell me about the books," he said, propping his arm onto the rock they were leaning on.

"They were the last of a collection I was working on in the city."

"Anything interesting?"

"Just old spells and runes. Nothing anyone uses anymore. I've been transcribing them. They're spell books of old witches: long forgotten, tossed aside, half rotten old books."

"Witches you say?" he recoiled.

"Oh, yes. I believe there are a few useful things in here for banishments of the undead. If you're interested."

"Gods, no," he laughed, taking a sip of his wine. "But tell me more."

"I have one necromancy tome," she rolled over onto her knees. "And it's interesting. Not what I'm looking for, but interesting," she began to fan out her collection on the blankets.

Astarion leaned forward to examine them further.

"My job at the bookshop was to take these old grimoires and write them down into the bigger blank tomes. The ones that I found useful, I kept for myself. This is what is left of my findings. And the remains of my last project."

"What did you mean by 'what you were looking for'? Is there a certain spell you're seeking?"

"Not necessarily a spell. Just a translation."

"Have you had any luck?"

"A few words here and there."

"May I see the book you're translating?"

"Absolutely not," her eyes felt as cold as her reply.

"Ah, I see I'm reaching my limit for the night," he said with a tone of disappointment.

Astarion had grown accustomed to his interactions with his warlock companion being cut short. Rather it was her own doing or the work of another, he found their conversations always disrupted. It was a shame, truly, as he assumed Ferelith was the type to hold secrets. Even some that did not belong to her. The woman had been alive for quite sometime, though not nearly as long as he had. But he imagine there was something worth telling within the few lifetimes she had lived.

"Not necessarily," she replied lightheartedly. "After all, you've found this lovely bottle of wine."

"Humoring me for the sake of the wine, then?" a brow went up in confidence.

"I doubt I'd humor you for little else," her smirk was mocking his excitement.

"Remind to thank Gale in the morning, then," his mood went undisturbed. "I'd like to know how it is you intend to humor me now that books are off the table."

"Is that all you think I talk about?"

"I don't know," he shook his head, knowing she took the bait. "I've never heard you have a full conversation. With anyone."

"I converse very well, thank you," she took a sip of her wine. "I've just been lacking good company."

"You wound me," he lowered his gaze, but the tone was of sarcasm and he watched the corner of Ferelith's mouth turn upward.

Success.

"What is it you wish to discuss?"

"Discuss? I've no taste for lectures, my darling. I require something a bit more refined, something provocative. Tell me something interesting."

"Something interesting?" she appeared to be offended, her voice raising in pitch. "Well for one, when you strike a conversation with a person of interest, it's usually polite not to demand it from them."

"Very well," he rolled his eyes. "Tell me something interesting, please. I know you've got something just waiting to be told."

"If you're looking for exciting tales, I'm afraid you've come to the wrong colleague."

"No? Nothing, say, of your youth?"

"I assure my you, my early years are beyond dull."

"Surely not," he tilted his head down. "You have nothing? Dangerous spells? A jilted lover? A need for vengeance? Everyone has a decent vengeance story."

This time Ferelith laughed, tilting her head to the side away from him. But the sight of the smile caused him to straighten where he sat, leaning forward to see it fully. She rose a hand a to cover her mouth, but it was not enough for him to go without noticing... she was embarrassed.

"No vengeance here, I'm afraid," she looked back to him, her eyes meeting his. "But I suppose if you're interested in a horrible love story, I could tell you of my stay in Neverwinter..."

"Horrible as in tragic... or horrible as in just bad."

"Both," she nodded a finger to him.

"Even better!" he seemed overjoyed.

"Fine, fine. But I'll need a refill," she said passing her goblet to him.

Like the gentleman he was, he poured it for her. A bit too close to the edge, but he was eager for her to start the story to notice. She took a long drink, letting the contents give her the courage she needed. This was a bit of a defeat for her, but she was willing to let it go for the sake of his amusement. It was something to catch her attention, but to make her laugh was a feat of it's own. There was a sliver of a thought that perhaps she had misjudged him.

"This story is so humiliating. I can't believe I'm telling you," she shifted in her seat.

"Get on with it, then," he urged her to continue.

"Mind you, I had never been to a city before. Not even close to one. And I had just gotten a taste of what it felt like to wield magic. I found myself in the streets of Neverwinter in search for more knowledge. But I had no idea how to survive. There were so many others like me, just a crowd of beggers looking for work."

"Yes, I am aware. There are plenty of people swimming the streets looking for a better life in the city. A plague on society. Honestly."

"Indeed," Ferelith sighed, recalling the annoyance of the people who tormented her for those years of her life. "I offered my services. But found little coin in it. No one took my work seriously and no one was willing to give me the chance. I found myself resorting to other means of earning an income. Means that required a certain charisma."

"The vagueness of your statements is dramatic, but do go on."

"I acted as a smuggler," the bluntness returned. "It gave me good coin and the jobs I was hired to perform often involved a change of wardrobe. I was no good with the actual act of stealing or sneaking. A sleight of hand on occasion, but never anything that tactful. I was only a cover for whatever it was that I was charged with moving. It eventually earned me enough to rent a loft where I proceeded with my studies and transcribing work."

"Just a moment," he held out a hand to pause her. "The coin from working jobs like that... I don't believe that's enough for what had acquired."

"You are aware there are other ways of obtaining what is needed," the complacency in her tone was met with a guiltless stare. "Seduction."

"I'm starting to believe this woman you speak of is no longer with us," he teased with an exaggerated smile. "This talk of charisma and seduction, I've yet to see it."

"It's not for you to see," the wrinkle of frustration set on her brow and she turned her head, taking another long drink of wine. "I was young. And equally ignorant."

A long pause fell across Ferelith as she looked down into her cup. She could feel the affects and wished it would make the rest of the story a bit easier to tell. It was only a reminder of her failures. She wondered why she chose this to tell of all things. A jilted lover was not worth what she lost. With a deep breath holding back her hesitancy, she pressed on.

"There was a man who requested my services. He was a young human noble from a prosperous family of wizards. Nothing to himself, really, but he had access to the city. The fool that I was decided he was an easy way out of the slums. I charmed him, convincing him he was infatuated with me. And when it wore off, he was too polite to deny that he had invited me out for dinner."

"Commendable, if not a questionable choice," Astarion hid his surprise.

"The idea was to charm him at least in the beginning. And it worked," she shrugged. "I had charmed him enough times that he had fallen in love with me. Not entirely on his own, but still... it was his decision to place a ring on my hand."

"A ring?" he nearly choked on his wine. "You were betrothed?"

Ferelith slowly shook her head.

"You were married?"

"I was," her reply was far too calm for his liking.

An image flashed into his head. A memory he had once borrowed from her. He recalled the face of a young elven. Handsome. Proper. Filled with joy. But the way she spoke of him did not reflect the feeling he had felt when she looked at him that night. Then again, it was a human she had wed.

"Well," he cleared his throat. "I've dealt with this sort of thing in the past, but I don't think I've-"

"Astarion," she cut him off, causing him to look at her. "He's dead."

"He won't be a threat, then. Good," his face lightened. "Not that I was worried. But his death makes things much easier."

The sweet smile of hers came back onto resisting lips. The flirtatious advancements were completely unnecessary, as she was already glowing with a buzz from the wine. She blamed that rather than admitting she was getting any sort of feelings from Astarion at all. His confidence told him otherwise and he refused to be wrong. The more straightforward he was about it, the further it would take him.

"You didn't kill him, did you?"

A laugh burst from her, nearly causing her to spill her wine. "By the Hells, no. It's been nearly twenty years since his death, Astarion."

"I'm only making sure," he shrugged, a victorious grin spreading. "One can never be too careful."

"I take it your life has been threatened by other lovers of your past?"

"Other lovers?" he snapped his head, his brow lowering and his eyes watching her reaction deviously. "Are you considering yourself as a lover?"

Ferelith opened up her mouth to object. But her thoughts had halted her from answering. She did, in fact, word her previous sentence to include herself. Deciding there was no way around, she stared at him blinking unapologetically.

"I'm going to take that as a yes."

"No," she found herself unable to hold back.

"It's too late, I've already taken the first answer into consideration. And I'm very pleased to accept. You can't take it back, darling."

He took a sip of his wine, quite satisfied with the outcome and himself. Ferelith was not finished. However, the night had seemed rather pleasant and she felt genuine joy from their conversation. She allowed him to have his victory, if for anything, for making her laugh. It would be nice to have at least one good thing to remember him by if there ever came another time she considering slitting his throat.

"You'll have to tell me about them," she swirled her goblet.

"They're not important," he waved a hand casually. "Besides, you still haven't finished your tale."

"It's nothing, really," she looked down, not wanting to go into further detail."I lived the luxurious life of a noble for sometime. But it wasn't enough for me. I was greedy, stealing from the hands that were already willing to give."

"Naughty girl," his eyes widened.

Again, Ferelith smiled. "I was eventually discovered with nothing to blame but my own pride. I left behind everything. All my work, gone. Everything I cherished, gone. All my beautiful things... gone."

"Do I sense a bit of regret?"

The smile faded into a disgusted frown, a crease forming at the bridge of her nose. "The only thing I regret is allowing another man to become involved. If it wasn't for him, I would have likely inherited my own estate."

"And so the plot is revealed," Astarion tilted his goblet. "Alas, the husband was not the jilted lover after all."

"No. Just an impatient fool."

"So... you did intend to kill the husband."

"For purposes I'd like to remain unknown, I refuse to acknowledge you," Ferelith sat down her empty goblet. "But I feel no guilt for him. Either of them. I am only convicted with my own stupidity for allowing myself to lose everything that I had worked so hard for."

"It's a shame to lose such status... but still, there's nothing wrong with a fresh start," he replied flatly.

"Sometimes," she said with a sigh, "you must be stripped of everything before you can know true power."

Astarion looked at her with a cause for concern, noting the kindness in her voice. He seemed surprised and even somewhat shaken, lacking a voice for a response. But he quickly recovered and the usual smirk crept onto his face.

"If that's a way to say you'd like to remove my clothes, then I'd love to know your true power."

"Alright," Ferelith placed her hands across her lap. "I believe I've had enough for one evening."

"Already?" he whined. "We haven't finished the bottle."

"You are more than welcome to finish it... alone."

"No, no," he sat it down beside her. "You'll be up all night working. Take the bottle and relax. You've earned it."

"I'm flattered," she took the bottle by the neck. "Good night, Astarion."

The elf rose to his feet, dusting off his knees, leaving behind the empty goblet he brought with him. He gave one final bow to his companion.

"Good night, my darling."

#astarion #astarion fic #astarion fluff #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #ferelith #ferelith moonshade #oc origin #dwjp writing tag #ferelith writing tag

10 notes · View notes

rohad93 · 4 years

Text

Sea Glass: Ch 7

18+

Yellow was shaken awake the moment the ship made landfall by Blue gently shoving on her shoulder.

"Wake up, we need to go." Blue's voice was whispering in her left ear.

She grunted, opening her eyes only because she had to.

"What?" she grumbled, looking around.

"We've pulled into port. We need to go." Blue started to stand and helped pull the blonde up to her feet with her. She was still shaking off the last of the sleep from her nap as she did.

"Quickly…" Blue tugged her along jerkily, her right hand wrapped tightly around Yellow’s left, the latter still trying to get the feeling back in her legs, but could sense the urgency in her voice.

"What is it?" She cocked a brow as Blue tugged her along, glancing at the crew around her.

“They’ve been looking suspiciously at us for the last fifteen minutes. They recognize us, they just can’t remember from where…,” she hissed, pulling Yellow along quickly down the gangplank. “That won’t last…”

Yellow hummed in agreement as they walked quickly down the pier.

“Wait a minute, aren’t you…!” a man suddenly spoke up and they didn’t wait to see what he was going to say before they took off at a run down the dock, wooden planks thumping loudly beneath their boots; the chain jingled loudly.

They didn’t stop until they had moved out of sight of the ships, ducking through several twisting and turning alleyways. They panted, standing in the dark between two grimy buildings as they caught their breath.

“That was to close…,” Blue grumbled.

“A necessary risk, we couldn’t have done another twenty miles of rowing and now that we know they're there, the navy would have picked us up for certain,” Yellow grumbled, grimacing as she carefully adjusted the cuff wrapped around her wrist. The running had made it twist and move, rubbing relentlessly on the skin beneath.

Blue grumbled to herself as she pulled the sky blue bandana from her head and slapped it on Yellow’s, adjusting the ties.

“Wh- What are you doing!?” Yellow scowled, struggling against the hands tying the bandana around her forehead.

“Will you just fuckin’ hold still!” Blue growled, finishing the knot before leaning back to look at her work. The bright blonde hair was covered completely by the fabric. It wasn’t really Yellow’s look, but they needed to do something about it.

Yellow made a sour face and Blue rolled her eyes at it.

“You can pout all you want, but your loud as hell hair is going to get us hung.” Blue jutted out a hip and laid her left fist on it. “You don’t have to like it, but while we’re walking around town you need to keep it covered. There are probably more wanted posters of us in every town on the coast.”

Yellow sighed. She knew Blue was right, she and Blue were incredibly infamous, there were wanted posters for them up in the coastal towns even when they weren’t actively being chased by the royal navy, and she could admit, she was very distinct in appearance.

“Fine,” she grumbled, adjusting the bandana more to her liking, pushed down a little to just above her eyes, covering nearly all of the scar on her forehead.

“I don’t think blue is really your color…,” she hummed, making Yellow’s frown deepen. “Eh, it’ll do for now.” she shrugged as they started moving again, out of the alley and into the middle of town.

“You’re not exactly the most inconspicuous person…,” Yellow mumbled, glancing at the silver-haired woman with her shirt nearly hanging half-open.

“No, but next to you, people won’t notice me, and if they do, I guarantee you they aren’t looking at my face…” the last part was little more than a mumble. Yellow glanced at her out of the corner of her eye.

“We have everything we need for now, there will be plenty of other towns along the coast as we move east. We need to get out of here.” Yellow pulled them along through the crowd of people.

The market was understandably busy for a late afternoon, no one seemed to give Yellow a second look now, though they were quick to move out of her way as she walked straight ahead, glowering at anyone that happened to make eye contact with her. Blue rolled her eyes as she watched this.

For someone who was supposed to be keeping a low profile, the blonde had a way of drawing attention to herself even at the worst of times. Her pride would not allow her to bow her head, ever.

It was turning out to be a pain in her ass, but Blue couldn’t help but respect that. Yellow didn’t make herself smaller for anyone; unfortunately, not even herself when it could save her life.

“What?” Yellow tilted her head questioningly as she noticed those cerulean eyes on her.

“Nothing…” she shook her head. Yellow made a noise but didn’t say anything else.

“Oh, those are pretty…” Blue pulled them to a stop to better look at some jewelry sitting on a vendor’s table.

“Blue…” Yellow rolled her eyes. They did not have time for this.

“Just let me look a moment… are you that eager to go traipsing through the forest?” she snorted before turning back to the table.

“I’m eager to be away from these crowds…,” was her low reply as Blue looked over the offered wares.

She was standing there watching the people pass by when she felt that familiar, airy brush of her clothes.

Her right hand snatched out and wrapped tightly around the little wrist that had been reaching into her pocket, a piece of eight in his hand.

She glared down at the dirty little boy looking up at her with wide, scared, brown eyes. His face was smudged with dirt and his clothes were little better than rags; his feet bare.

“Whoa!” Blue blinked at the little boy she’d never even seen walk past them.

He was practically shaking in Yellow’s grip.

“Nice try, but not quick enough…” She smiled, not her usually haughty, condescending smile either, though, it had a certain amused quality to it; it was disarming. She dropped his wrist and he took a step back, looking up at her curiously, a piece of eight still clutched in his hand.

The blonde knelt down, left arm stretched back awkwardly from the cuff and reached into her pocket with her right, pulling out another silver coin, she held it up for him to see, and then palmed it, closing her hand and turning it over, then turned it back over, opening her hand to reveal her now empty palm. The boy gasped. She repeated the motion and the coin seemed to reappear, the boy’s eyes were blown wide with awe as he looked at the metal with a bright smile.

Blue too was in a state of surprise, but not by the trick so much as her companion, down on one knee, entertaining the hungry-looking street urchin.

Standing back up she flicked the coin off her thumb. The boy scrambled to catch it and looked back up Yellow curiously. She jerked her head.

“Take it and go.”

He hesitated a second before running off into the crowd, disappearing from sight.

“We kind of need that money…,” Blue interjected, watching the little boy till he had vanished.

“He needed it more,” was Yellow’s resolute answer as she turned to look at her. “We have food. If you’re done, let’s get moving.”

They moved through town without further incident until they were nearing the edge of the woods.

“We’re being followed…,” Blue whispered and she felt Yellow tense up, ready to fight or run. She couldn’t help but giggle. “Not like that…” Blue grinned knowingly at Yellow’s confused face, motioning behind them.

Turning around they found five kids, none of which could have been older than seven, except the boy she’d given the money too. They looked at each other before the same little boy as before stepped forward and held out one of the pieces of eight Yellow had given him.

Getting the hint she took the coin and the other kids all came closer as she knelt back down, watching as she made the coin vanish. The all made impressed noises, one small girl with dark curly hair, even grabbing the blonde’s hand, turning it every which way, looking for the coin, which made Yellow’s lips pull up at the corners.

Pulling her hand back, she reached behind the little girl’s ear and pulled back to reveal the coin. Squeals and giggles of delight were her answer.

Yellow reached into her pocket and pulled out another coin, holding one in each hand and slapping her hands together, making the kids jump, before pulling them apart to reveal only one.

They went wild and Blue couldn’t help but giggle at that and the little smile on Yellow’s face as she entertained them.

After a couple more she gave the coin back to the boy before they turned to go, the kids waved and after them as they walked into the woods before scampering back into town.

Yellow was in a good mood, despite how she could feel Blue’s eyes on her.

“What?” she finally asked, turning to look at her.

“What do you mean ‘what’, what was that?” She threw her left arm out behind her where they had left the kids behind. “And how did you do that?” she asked and Yellow sighed, shrugging.

“Their just sleight of hands tricks.” She pulled a coin out of her pocket, showing Blue how the coin ‘vanished’ by being tucked into her sleeve.

“And the kids?” She cocked her head as Yellow reached up and pulled the other woman’s bandana off her head shoving it back toward her.

“I assure you, those kids have little in the way of levity in their lives, I would know…” she mumbled the last part under her breath.

“You don’t strike me as the type who likes kids”

“Well, you don’t know me,” Yellow huffed, and not with the same biting tone that the comment might have been delivered with before, this time it was simply a statement of fact and Blue had to agree.

She really didn’t know Yellow outside her fearsome reputation, despite their many, many encounters over the years.

The chain on her wrist jerked a little and Blue frowned.

“This needs to come off…”

Yellow glanced down, they were out of town but their hands were still clasped together. Habit at this point.

She slipped her fingers free from Blue’s, letting the chain unwind from around their arms and letting them put a little distance between each other.

She hummed in thought

~ ~ ~

“I’m not sure this is going to work…” Blue pursed her lips as they knelt on the ground, the chain laid out between them on a rock; another rock gripped in Yellow’s right hand. She flexed her right hand nervously in the shackle. One misplaced blow would shatter her hand to pieces.

“We’ll find out won’t we…” Yellow reared back and Blue closed her eyes as she brought the rock smashing down on the chain. Blue winced, but upon feeling nothing, opened her eyes to find the chain sitting there, unscratched. Yellow grunted raising the rock again, and again it sat there whole and mocking them.

After the twentieth strike, Blue didn’t even flinch anymore, simply watched Yellow smash at the chain fruitlessly.

“Why. Won’t. it. Break!” Yellow roared between every smash of the rock that did nothing but scratch the surface of the metal.

“Yellow…,” Blue called, but the blonde only continued to smash at the iron. “Yellow!”

“What?!” She turned to her with a snarl, sweat dripping down her forehead.

“This isn’t working you big, blonde, brute!” She yelled right back, frowning. If Blue knew anything, it was that a frustrated Yellow was an angry Yellow and this was going to go downhill fast if she didn’t stop her.

“Well, if you have any ideas I’d love to hear them!” she growled.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” She pulled out the thin-bladed knife from her belt and Yellow looked at her cautiously.

~ ~ ~

Yellow sighed from her place laying flat on her back in the grass, left arm stretched above her head as Blue wiggled the knife blade in the keyhole on her own shackle and cursing under her breath. She’d been at this for the last hour at least, trying in vain to pick the lock.

Yellow closed her eyes, listening to the wind in the trees, as well as the occasional curse or annoyed noises coming from Blue.

It was possible to pick the shackles, of course, but it had become apparent to Yellow half an hour ago that it wasn’t possible for Blue, to do it.

“Fuck!”

“Oh yes… this is working so much better than my rock, what a fool I was…” Yellow’s monotone voice made Blue scowl.

“Shut up…,” she bit out, fiddling with the lock for a few more minutes before dropping her hands with a mighty sigh. “This isn’t going to work.”

“Oh, and what led you to that conclusion?” Yellow let her head loll to the side to regard Blue with bored, half-lidded eyes, one eyebrow hiked up.

How badly Blue wanted to throw something at the other woman’s head…

“Let’s just go, we’re not going to get out of these until we get to my ship. There’s not a lock in all the seven seas that Rose can’t pick.” They both stood, Yellow shouldering their sack of supplies as they continued moving eastward through the woods.

The woods was hot and muggy, making them both sweaty and tired as they trekked through the thick foliage and underbrush.

It would have been easier to walk along the coast, but then they would have also been far easier to spot, especially by any royal navy patrolling the coast looking for them.

The sun was hanging low in the sky when Blue suddenly stopped, looking further off into the woods.

“Do you hear that?” she asked.

Yellow strained her ears but all she heard was the ambient sounds of the forest.

“I don’t hear anything…”

Without a word Blue pulled them farther into the woods, Yanking Yellow along behind her.

“Blue!” She huffed, but she was too tired to put up much of a fight and let the other pirate drag her along until they found what Blue had been hearing.

“A river!” Blue’s smile lit up her face.

“It certainly is that,” Yellow agreed, looking at the dark, gently flowing water.

“I’d kill for a bath right now…,” Blue hummed, pulling at the collar of her shirt with a disgusted look.

“We don’t have time for that, Blue…,” Yellow started, only for Blue to spin on heel to face the blonde, their noses only a few inches apart as Blue looked up at her, standing on her toes.

“It has been a hellish few days, I am not walking another step until I get my bath.” lips pulled back over her teeth as they glared at each other for several long moments.

“Tch, do whatever you want,” Yellow grumbled, and no sooner then she had did Blue start kicking off her boots and pulling at her corset

Yellow strained her neck to look anywhere else but at the other captain as the sound of rustling, clothes filled the otherwise quiet air of the woods.

Her shirt was slid all the way down to Yellow’s cuff, out of the way and her cheeks burned.

The chain tugged and Yellow reluctantly walked forward, still not looking as she sat on the river bank as Blue sunk into the water up to her neck. It was deep, even right on the banks.

“It’s perfect,” Blue sighed blissfully, running her wet hands through her hair.

Yellow hummed, staring off into the forest.

Blue looked at her with a frown and couldn’t stop the words in her head from slipping past her lips.

“Do you truly find me so abhorrent?”

Yellow’s head whipped around to look at her at that, thankfully she was sunk down to her collar.

“What?” She narrowed her eyes in confusion.

“Am I that ugly to you that you can’t bear to look at me?” Blue asked, it had bothered her for years, why Yellow alone seemed so unaffected by her in the slightest.

“What are you talking about?” Yellow’s face scrunched up, she hadn’t the slightest idea what Blue was talking about.

“I’m talking about how since the day we met you’ve always been completely unaffected by my looks. Not even a twitch in your stony facade.” Blue pursed her lips. For the first time in a long time, she felt embarrassed, but it had been eating at her for a long time.

“You believe I think you’re hideous?” Yellow frowned

“What else would it be?” Now it was Blue’s turn to be confused. “Putting aside the obvious, even when we’re not stepping on each other’s toes at sea your an ass that can hardly look at me.” It was Blue’s turn to frown.

‘Because I don’t trust you.” Narrowed amber eyes regarded her and Blue blinked at that.

“You are beautiful, and you know it, and use it to lie and manipulate everyone around you. You always flirt and use your body and charms to get what you want and that means I can’t trust a word that has ever come out of your mouth,” Yellow said this with a certain chill in her voice. Now that she was getting to air her grievances with the other captain she would.

“I don’t always…,” Blue started.

“You did it to get us on the ship. You tried to use it to get our room at the inn and I’ve seen you do it countless times before. You don’t seem to take anything seriously and have no qualms about using your beauty to get what you want. So no, just because I don’t fall for your games like some prepubescent cabin boy doesn’t mean I think you’re hideous, but the past has taught me to be distrustful of people like you.” Yellow frowned.

They sat in awkward silence for a long while before Blue finally spoke, voice quiet.

“Isn’t that want everyone wants though?” she asked quietly and Yellow looked back at her with a clear question on her face. “A little of my attention for themselves? A man can stare at me for the better part of an hour and still not be able to tell me what color my eyes are.” she looked down at her rippling reflection in the water, cerulean eyes starring back at her. “They want to believe that they could have me… but I belong to no one.” she bit out, looking back up at Yellow with an intensity that made a shiver run down her spine.

“If they volunteer themselves to do something for me just because I smiled at them, or asked them nicely I fail to see how that makes me a deceitful serpent.”

“It doesn’t…,” Yellow admitted. If people were stupid enough to throw themselves at the feet of someone who gave them a wink, it was their own fault. “...but we both know you do it intentionally, and it makes me wary of you, and that’s what you asked.”

“I suppose I did…,” she admitted quietly.

They didn’t say much for a little while as blue ran her fingers through her long hair.

“You know…” Blue started, drawing Yellow’s gaze to her. “You could really use a bath too… you smell and not good”

“I don’t want a bath…” Yellow grumbled, face reddening.

“You can get in yourself, or I can pull you in, clothes and all,” Blue warned and Yellow glared at her. A silver brow rose in a silent question of the blonde’s decision.

With a half sighing growl she started pulling off her boots until she caught Blue watching her.

“Stop looking at me,” she grumbled.

“I didn’t realize you were shy…” She smirked but turned away regardless. After a minute she felt the water shift and turned back around to see the blonde sunk up to her nose in the water and she laughed. “Very shy, apparently.” A stream of bubbles and an annoyed sound were Yellow’s answer.

Her arm was dangling from the bank, keeping their shirts and her coat dry on the chain in the grass.

“Doesn’t that feel better?” Blue smiled and before she could stop her, reached out with her free hand and pushed the blonde all the way under with a grin.

Yellow shot up, spluttering and glaring.

“Your hair needed a soak too.” Blue smiled sweetly. Yellow’s response was to splash her in the face.

Blue’s mouth hung open in shock before she splashed her back, setting off a chain of splashing and screaming.

By the end they were both panting and the clothes they had been trying to keep dry had been dragged into the river and were soaked.

“We are quite good at getting things wet…” Blue mumbled holding up the wet fabric on the chain.

Yellow just sighed, slicking her hair back.

She turned and half threw the drenched coat up onto the grass, unaware of Blue watching her back, unable to help her thoughts as she watched the muscled in the blondes scarred and freckled back flew with the movement.

“What?” Yellow asked, glancing at her over her shoulder.

“Nothing…,” Blue mumbled, sinking down to her nose in the cool water.

Their shirts were still wet by the time they had settled into a small alcove of rocks to sleep for the night, as was Yellow’s coat, but she left it hanging on the chain, slowly drying.

With Blue’s knife, it took little effort to start a fire.

They sat quietly side by side, eating their rations and slugging rum from the bottle.

“I’ll take the first watch and you can sleep,” Yellow mumbled, leaning back against a rock, taking a long drink of the amber liquid in the bottle.

Blue just nodded, laying on the blonde’s left side, her chained arm beneath her as she laid on her side.

She glanced up at Yellow, watching the blonde’s face as the light from the fire flickered across her sharp features, creating crisp shadows in some places but mostly she was watching how it lit those amber eyes ablaze with flame.

There was something hypnotic about those eyes and Blue just couldn’t help but stare into them whenever she had the chance.

She fell asleep thinking about those burning eyes.

Yellow glanced at her when she started to snore before shaking her head and going back to her starring into the fire, listening to the quiet noises of the forest.

#bellow diamond #Blue diamond #Yellow diamond #Au #pirate au #Pirates #18+#steven universe #fanfic

7 notes · View notes

anangelicday-mrwolf · 4 years

Text

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 10 – Progress

“Well?”

<Where’s your patience, boss? How could you cut straight to the point without even saying hi? And you happen to be talking to me.>

“Exactly. You’re the one person who would reply to ‘hi’ by recounting the number of times M-21 spoke for the day, the dessert presented at school lunch the other day, and the average size and volume of the crumbles the children spilled at my mansion during their snack time with my master the day before.”

<Aww, don’t be so mean, boss. You know I’m only looking out for you when I relay the updates on Seoul.>

I know. Of course I know. But no thanks. Otherwise I’ll start missing what I’ve decided not to.

Frankenstein choked his inner voice and nodded at Tao’s awkward face blinking inside the monitor.

“So, how did Rael’s meeting go yesterday? I doubt there was trouble. At least not on Rael’s side. Not with you preparing everything for him.”

“QuadraNet. Huh. Though it’s a temporary name you came up with, I’m not sure when or if I’ll ever get used to it. But what do you mean, tomorrow? What’s the rush for?”

“If you say so. How long would he stay at Lukedonia?”

<He’ll have to see for himself, he said.>

“It’d be best to make it done as quickly as possible. Because werewolves have already booked the same appointment. Speaking of which, how is he? What is that researcher like?”

The question was as harmless as it could be, yet Tao started shifting his gaze, away from the monitor. Frankenstein’s blue eyes steeled in reaction.

“Is there a problem?”

<No. At least, I don’t think he has a problem that can affect this project in a bad way.>

“What do you mean, you don’t think? What’s the issue?”

<Uh... Well...>

With a bashful smile, not so big, not so small, Tao unraveled what Rael told him after his trip to KSA.

*****

The day before, at KSA Headquarter

“It appears the recovery has been going on progressively. That’s good.”

“S-sorry? Oh, uh... I... Yes. Thank you.”

Sangin hurriedly produced a reply, whom Yeonsu gawked at as if holding back the urge to snap at him. Nevertheless, her eyes were basically no different from those of her husband – tap-dancing to the silent tension.

“So, uh... How long are you planning to stay in Seoul...?”

“I will be on my way as soon as your researcher is all set to leave.”

“I... I see. I cannot imagine how... Uh, I mean...! I do not mean to be nosy! I...!”

This time Yeonsu feigned nothing. She happened to be just as nervous, with the director’s office just two steps away.

“Welcome. We’ve been expecting you.”

Upon Rael’s entrance, the director rose and smiled, so stiff that it almost seemed he was doing it on purpose. He was not alone; the doctor in charge of Yeonsu and Sangin’s body modification was attendant.

“On behalf of Lukedonia, I’d like to give my deepest apology for proceeding with the project too hastily.”

“N-no, it’s nothing. Quick progress would only do us good.”

“So, is your doctor the one appointed in representation of KSA?”

“Uh... Unfortunately, no.”

The director waved his head apologetically, and the doctor stepped in.

“We’ve decided I cannot leave my lab, not even for a moment, since I’m in charge of all technological aspects of KSA. It’s not that it’s utterly impossible for me to provide any help or advice, but I don’t believe I can leave this building. I am very sorry.”

“In that case...”

“We have chosen the best of the lead researchers among us. Had he been employed before me, or had I resigned from my seat as the head of the technological department, this researcher would have been made in charge of body modification and regular checkups for these two agents. When it comes to his competence, we are more than ready to guarantee it.”

“Would you like to meet him?”

“I should.”

The doctor walked past Rael to guide him through the corridor, with Sangin and Yeonsu striding by Rael’s sides for more details.

“‘Yuhyung Jang.’ Age 28. He is currently the lead technological assistant and one of the lead researchers of KSA.”

“He used to major in Bio And Brain Engineering at KAIST, but he was considered a freak among his classmates due to his theories, brilliant if put in a good way, unrealistic if put bad. But 6 years ago, I had a chance to speak to him in private during my visit to KAIST as a guest lecturer. At once I realized I was met by a genius and offered him a position at KSA.”

“Immediately he dropped out and filed an application to KSA. And when it comes to research, he has never failed us.”

“Which is why he is the only researcher, excluding me, with a personal office and a lab.”

Rael recalled the time when he just made himself an occupant at Frankenstein’s house. First there was not much he could do, so when he had no chores at hand he used to pull out several books from Frankenstein’s library, to which he was granted access by the man’s courtesy.

Some of the books he read included an introduction to astronomy (with which he taught himself about geocentrism and heliocentrism) and a couple books on “universities.” From the latter, he learned that KAIST is always listed as one of the top prestigious institutes in Korea, which allowed him to comprehend the level of intelligence and expertise this researcher would possess.

The moment Rael inwardly sighed in reassurance, Yeonsu, Sangin, and the doctor scrunched their faces in an uneasy, unnatural way.

“Uh, there is one thing we must tell you...”

“First of all, we’re sorry.”

They were staring at Rael with eyes teeming with ruefulness and pity, which raised concern in Rael’s clueless heart.

“No matter what kind of stupidity unfolds, I’d like to ask you to please be patient and understanding.”

“This fella can be sort of... Ridiculous. And crazy.”

“But he means no foul whatsoever, so please. Be generous.”

Rael was trying his hardest not to let his disquiet-slash-panic get ahold of him, as the three humans fanned his puzzlement with eyes spawning apology.

“Here we are.”

The doctor cleared his throat before he knocked a sliding automatic door.

“Aaack!”

Rumble. Clang.

Clank. Screech.

Rael wondered for a moment if his ears were deceiving him. Normally one would not be met with such noises in a series after a knock. He realized that the three KSA personnel conveyed nothing but tranquility, with ‘here-we-go-again’ grimace.

“Coming! Coming right up!”

Thuds of footsteps escalated, only to be interrupted by an ear-splitting siren inside the room, which caused vortexes in the KSA officers’ eyes.

“What is this?! Don’t tell me...!”

“Aaaah!! I-it’s nothing! It’s nothing at all! Everything is okay!”

“Okay my ass!”

Faithful to her temper, Yeonsu nailed the door with her foot. The broad piece of metal fell flat on surface with a deafening ‘bang,’ promptly unleashing pungent smoke onto the entrance and part of the corridor.

“Ugh!”

“What is this smell...?!”

Yeonsu and Sangin darted their eyes around the room in search of the source of pitch-black cloud and charring stench relentlessly assaulting their eyes and noses. They spotted a ball of flame overgrowing in midst of a lab table at the corner, with a man pouring out all the sweat he could ever secrete, while clutching a fire extinguisher that was equal to a pesticide in terms of size.

“N-nobody panic! Please, nobody panic! I... I’ve got this perfectly under control! So... So please, remain calm and...”

Swoosh.

An abrupt current of wind blasted at the table. The air compactly brushed the fire that was by no means miniature, instantly smothering sparks and smoke that filled the chamber, and the remainder of smoke began to subside, now that its origin was gone.

“Thank you.”

Sangin and the doctor nodded their heads at Rael, who managed to douse the flame with the wind pressure from a mere act of slashing the air with his hand. Not feeling the need to reply, the Kertia took a step closer.

The first thing he could make out was a pair of rectangular glasses thicker than any other pairs he had seen. Then stood out brown curls of hair visibly in dire need for nutrients, and Rael’s gaze lastly arrived at the man’s lips arched in a sheepish, silly curve.

“Allow me to introduce our researcher – Yuhyung Jang.”

“Oh... So this must be...!”

Yeonsu nodded, and Yuhyung urgently jutted out his hands for a shake. That was when he noticed that he was still clinging onto the fire extinguisher. Out of haste he flung the object towards the bookshelf behind him, packed with utensils and books of various types and uses. He waited to witness the crimson cylinder very precariously settling on the bookshelf before re-sticking out his hand.

“Pleasure to meet you. Yuhyung Jang is my name.”

Recollecting that this is one of human etiquette in introductions and greetings, Rael held the man’s hand as gingerly as possible.

“I... I have heard so much about you. I was told you are one of the heads of clans from Lukedonia.”

“Indeed. And I will escort you safely to my homeland. I wish to leave as soon as you are ready. How long do you think it would take?”

“Uh... Uhm, two! Two days would be enough! Yes, of course! I, I only need to pack a couple more equipment, so...”

Almost making a show out of himself trying to express how honored he is, Yuhyung suddenly lunged at his desk and rummaged through his drawer. Once he excavated from his drawer a variety of stuff – such as, and not limited to, mechanical pencil, tape, a bottle of half-empty gums, and tiny rubber ball – the researcher brought back a USB for Rael.

“Could you please deliver this to the, uh... Whoever’s in charge of technologies among your team? This contains a program required to set up a connection with KSA’s network, with a couple files that I chose as reference. You’ll need this to install and launch the new communicative system.”

“Very well. I’ll make sure it reaches the right person.”

“You should start packing. Now. The director officially granted you permission for a business trip. Now all that’s left is for you to be ready.”

“Yes, sir! I’ll go ahead and do that ri...”

Yuhyung threw himself towards the bookshelf to drag out a tattered traveler’s bag. And the next moment –

CLANK!!

The man was hammered on the head with the fire extinguisher that was stationed too unstably to withstand the tremor from his action.

The two agents sighed in unity as they watched Yuhyung slumping unconscious, his eyes already rolled towards the back of his head. The doctor collected his hands as a display of embarrassment.

“We’re very sorry. Could you spare a few moments, please?”

“...It’s fine as long as he wakes up by the end of the day.”

*****

What a dumbest genius I’ve ever seen. Or should I say smartest dummy I’ve ever seen?

Frankenstein was educated enough to know that it is not courteous to dub someone dumb. Alas, his mental dictionary failed him at the moment.

“I have a feeling this trip will be a nightmare for Rael.”

“We should do that. There’s nothing else we can do for him on that matter, anyways. So pack him a nice lunchbox or something on his way back. The boy’s got a long voyage ahead of him.”

<Aye, aye, captain!!>

After an exchange of couple more comments, Frankenstein exited his communication chamber, only to freeze roughly at the same time.

His eyes were drawn to a bundle of grey hair, a hue now highly familiar to him, draped where it could not even reach his waist.

‘Seriously? She’s sleeping here?’

The consistent, soft ups and downs of her shoulders and rhythmic ebbs and flows of air through her respiratory system signaled that she was asleep. Frankenstein was not surprised to see her in the building, for he did notify her that there are only two places he will ever be while the sun is alive – his communication chamber or his lab.

What did catch him off guard was the fact that it presumably took only 10 minutes for her to fall in slumber, not sleep. It is possible for people deprived of rest to doze off when there is a brief opportunity, but Lunark is a werewolf. Expecting a werewolf to be exhausted is like expecting a cat to enter the tub on its own paws for its bath. Not downright impossible, but awfully rare.

‘Just what on earth is she tasked with when she’s away from this place...?’

Frankenstein stared down at Lunark, debating with himself whether he should wake her up or take her to one of the bedrooms so she could recharge herself.

He decided at least he should not leave the guest crouched at the corridor, when he cannot remember when was the last time he ever swept or mopped this place. Without further ado, Frankenstein kneeled and placed his hand on Lunark’s shoulder as lightly as possible.

There was no push or pull in his motion; it could be barely defined as a touch. However, Lunark’s head wobbled in the air like a roly-poly toy and dove straight towards Frankenstein – right onto his chest.

(Illustration by. RyO - you can find her DeviantArt page here)

In a flash, the pulse from his heart thundered through his vessels, and the entire world quaked with an electrifying ‘thump.’ At least that was what he could make most out of his gut reaction.

The man was startled not by the unforeseen contact but by a phenomenon that made him question his cardiac status; he was lost at what to do. At then Lunark’s eye slid open, and light slowly dawned upon her pink pupil. Her gaze was not yet focused, enthralled by sleep, until it landed upon Frankenstein’s face.

“...Am I dreaming?” Whispered Lunark, her voice a hush no greater than flaps of butterfly’s wings.

Being a human whose abilities far surpass those of humans, Frankenstein should have captured every letter she spat out. And he would have, if only he did not happen to be writhing in a pit of confusion. The most he could manage therefore was narrowly getting himself out of his chaotic preoccupation.

Concentration kicked into Lunark’s eyes as soon as they met his cerulean eyes. Simultaneously, she apprehended the fact that she was laying her head on Frankenstein’s bosom and scrambled to her feet straight away.

The only problem was that she was not awake enough to perceive that they were so close. Close enough to smash her lips into his with little adjustment to the angle her head was taking.

WHAM.

“Ugh!!”

“Aack!!”

They avoided violently brushing their lips, to their relief, but they could not avoid ramming into each other’s forehead, thereby producing reverberation of a sound that only an Eiffel Tower would yield upon breaking one of its legs.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!!!”

Lunark first and foremost fired an apology, even though she could not grasp the right direction and was busy trying to steady her head.

“Ugh... You okay?”

“Uh... Yeah......”

His voice told her exactly where he was standing, but Lunark could not dare lift her eyes at him.

‘What happened? Why was I squatted with him half-embracing me...?’

Lunark visited with a new piece of data, unlocked by Adne after he went through pains. When she could not pick up his trail anywhere outside the building, she figured he would be at the lab or the communication chamber.

Her plan was to wait until Frankenstein was done. Just then the fatigue from days of insomnia threatened to raze her mind, and a blink of an eye was all it took for her to black out.

The void of her memories was made null by a concoction of Frankenstein’s natural scent and aroma of wolfsbane. Hence she woke up to this disaster.

“Just how many tasks do you have at hand these days? I’ve never dreamed I’d get to see a werewolf warrior fall asleep in daytime, albeit shortly.”

Lunark could not bring herself to answer. It was true that this secret ambassador was not the only role she assumed. After all, a Union elder is listed as one of her career; it is only reasonable that she takes a major component in tracking down and eliminating what is left of the Union.

However, that is not the only reason why she fell defeated to drowsiness today. Recently she was made victim to the lack of sleep. Because of the man right in front of her.

And she could not tell him why. She could not admit that ever since she began to see him on semi-regular basis, she could not help getting conscious of his every single day, if not his every whereabout. She could not complain that her eyes just would not stop taking a snapshot of him into her brain and put it on infinite replay. She could not confess that lately he began to infiltrate her dreams, some of them definitely deserving at least a hundred slaps in the face.

“I-I’m fine. I’ve gotten busy, so I had to give up on sleeping for the past few days. And it looks like I really need some sleep.”

Ultimately she chose to keep the truth to herself, and Frankenstein’s forehead furrowed much more precipitously than she had imagined.

“You’re not getting any sleep? Why?”

“There’s a good reason.”

Lunark painstakingly ironed her face to stare at him, lest they get caught in an endless banter of questions and excuses. Thankfully for her, it worked.

“I’m not sure what’s keeping you awake, but you’d better get some sleep as soon as you return. It’s much bitchier than you’d think to stay awake for an inevitable reason.”

Frankenstein turned away as he spoke, because of which Lunark did not need to hide the flinch of her shoulders. She has never seen him handling his tongue so ferociously, unless he were in the middle of a battle or crisis. Which meant he was close to torturing himself by staying awake.

So why would you go this far?

Lunark was nearly yelling at him in her mind, but her mouth generated something very far from a reprimand.

“Here. And Dr. Adne said he’s sorry. The locks on Ignes’s data are turning more and more complicated, as if they learned they are being manipulated by someone other than their master.”

“I see he’s working very hard. I owe him so much, so I’d appreciate it if he does not let his duty harm his body.”

“I’ll make sure to tell him that. Now see you.”

“You’re leaving already?”

Lunark had already spun on her feet when he finished his sentence.

They would have had time to exchange a few more words, if not a complete conversation, if only he had left his communication chamber a little faster. In fact, Lunark was grateful that she could avoid lingering for the remainder of the day to talk to him.

“I told you I’ve gotten busy lately. Which is ongoing. And don’t give me that look. I’ll do as told as soon as I’m done with the most urgent ones.”

Lunark twisted her tone as she left, a deliberate action intended to be relieving, even jesting. Contrary to her intention, Frankenstein stood fixed to his spot even after she was gone.

‘Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. She sounded quite offended.’

Her action begot an effect not at all like what she had hoped. Which at least did not last long.

‘Who am I to care about someone else?’

Shaking his head, Frankenstein walked to his lab.

Before taking a seat at his desk, as disorganized as always, he poured out the liquid from the flask he held ready at all times. He downed the cup of wolfsbane tonic in a gulp before flipping the first page of a document, and as if on a cue technical terms and explications, so complex only the professionals in body modification would make out, commenced attacks.

Of course, it is impossible for printed letters to actually attack his eyes. Nonetheless, Frankenstein had to repeatedly blink and force his pupils back to the file.

I feel like my eyes are being less cooperative today. Am I imagining things?

His groggy head mumbled after he wasted 5 minutes while trying to dissect the first line of the next paragraph. Yet he tried again.

Again.

And again......

*****

Frankenstein blinked. He could seldom remember the last sentence he was reading. It was as if his brain cells had been buried in mist.

He attempted to stretch and straightened his back. Then he noted how he was on his feet in the middle of a dark purple space.

The dark purple that he would never fail to recognize.

Right at that moment, ice exploded through every crook and junction of his capillary vessels.

‘No, this cannot be...!’

(next chapter)

I give you my second OC - Yuhyung Jang.

He is my OC from KSA side who also happens to be a perfectly ordinary human. I tried to make this chapter comical on purpose to show what he’s like - genius but crazy XD

Also, I was super-excited to add a little Frankie-Lunark moment in this chapter lol. I know it’s not much, but they can always make a progress XD

The illustration was provided by RyO, my wonderful friend AND one of the most talented artists I know. Try visiting her DeviantArt page (the link under the image) to see what kind of wonders she has created! Thank you again to my friend RyO for the illustration!

Additionally, here is a background story on how come Rael, a native of Lukedonia, knows about Copernicus and Ptolemy and their respective astronomical theories. Frankie let Rael read in his personal library on the first few days upon his arrival to Seoul, and an intro book on astronomy happened to be one of the books he read. Hope this clarifies! Lol

#fanfic #korean webcomic #korean webtoon #noblesse #frankenstein #lunark #frankensteinxlunark

4 notes · View notes

aggedyann · 4 years

Text

Alone

A/N No dialogue, only text message

Freddie woke up to a house empty except for the dogs. The dogs who had woken him up, begging to go outside. He tried to take a breath through his congested sinuses and ended up with a sharp series of coughs as his reward.

Slipping his flip flops on, he walked downstairs to let the dogs out in the backyard, trying to ignore the throbbing in his head and sinuses. “UhhrChuhdzshoo, HuhhrChushzhoo!” He grabbed a paper towel and slumped down at the kitchen table, wincing as he blew his sore nose

He’d had the cold for a week and a half before it turned into a sinus infection. Sore throat, cough, throbbing head, fever, and sneezing…incessant sneezing. Normally, he’d be all over that last part, but this time around, he just felt too awful.

And he was alone. Jamie had literally taken him to the doctor, dropped him at home and flown to San Francisco for work. Alex was doing shows this week in Vegas and had taken Tim and Alyssa with him. Tim had just started dating Ethan, and it wasn’t like he knew him well enough to call him and ask him to bring over some chicken soup. Did Ethan even cook?, he wondered

Freddie was on his own for a few days.

He let the dogs back in and fed them, head pounding relentlessly as he bent over to fill their bowls. Grabbing a fresh glass of water, he fruitlessly blew his nose and headed back upstairs.

Shivering, he crawled back under his blankets, pulling them tight up around him. Cash crawled up on his right side and Pace up on his left, both dogs snuggling around him. He appreciated the extra warmth.

He didn’t know how long he’d slept, just that he felt ten times worse when he woke up. A glance at the clock showed it was nearly 11. No wonder he felt awful: he had been due for more cold medicine almost two hours ago.

He sat up and hastily grabbed a handful of tissues, burying his nose in them. “H’Chudshh, Chudzhh, UhhChudshoo.” Six more sneezes rocked his body, and he sniffled wetly as he felt the cement in his sinuses shift and his nose start to slowly run. Three crackling blows later, and he was ready to get out of bed to grab the cold medicine and his antibiotic

With a second thought, he grabbed the blanket off the bed along with his pillow. Draping the blanket over his shoulders, he made his way downstairs to where a new box of DayQuil and his antibiotic sat on the kitchen counter.

Freshly medicated and somewhat more hydrated – still no appetite – he made his way to the couch, clutching his pillow and dragging the blanket behind him. Flopping down on the couch with a sneeze, he sighed. He’d left the tissue box in the kitchen…and his phone.

After a brief coughing spell, and several sips of water, he slowly walked back to the kitchen. A glance at his phone showed three missed text messages. Grabbing the tissues, he took his phone back to the couch to read them.

Once bundled in his blanket again, he took a good look at his phone. Jamie…2 missed texts; Tim…missed text.

Jamie: Hey Sweety, just checking in to see how you’re doing?

Jamie: sweety, you ok? It’s not like you not to answer. Do I need to call someone?

Her last text had been sent just before he woke up. He texted back hurriedly.

Freddie: I’m ok, hon. Just woke up. Let the dogs out & then fell back to sleep. Feel pretty awful, but I’m so tired it doesn’t matter

He read Tim’s text…much less worried than Jamie’s.

Tim: Hey man, how you doing? Heard you have sinus infection now. Sucks. Feel better.

Freddie started to respond when a sudden sneeze hit him. “HuhChuszzhh. Ugh.” He muttered, wiping the spray off his phone with a tissue, then pressing that tissue to his nose as a whole volley of sneezes struck him, “UhChuzhh, Chudshh, H’Chudshoo, uhChudzhhoo, hhh’chuzhh.” He sneezed for another half minute before the unrelenting itch left his sinuses. And then blew his tender, raw nose for another minute with a fresh wad of tissues..

Then responded to Tim.

Freddie: yeah…sinus infection. Pretty miserable. Would rather be poolside in Vegas lol

His phone dinged with a return text from Jamie just after he messaged Tim.

Jamie: Good. Glad you’re ok, & just sleeping. Was worried. Will let you go back to sleep. ❤️ you

Freddie: ❤️ you too.

Freddie stretched out on the couch, still wrapped in his blanket, tight enough to stay warm, but loose enough to allow his hands easy tissue access. He found a movie on prime and started watching. “HuhChuzhh.” He had just gotten comfortable enough for his eyelids to start feeling heavy when the sneeze pitched him forward. “Uhhchidshh, Chizhoo.” Ugh, he thought. What had happened to his usual pattern of singles or doubles. Every time now was at least three…normally he’d be over the moon at that; he felt he never sneezed enough; but considering every sneeze caused searing pain from his forehead down to his jaw, and by the end of each fit, he was dizzy, sneezing was not at the top of the list of enjoyable activities today.

He tried again, only to be awoken by four sneezes once he finally dozed off.

The third time, a coughing jag which left him gasping for air.

Finally on the fourth attempt, he fell asleep until the dogs woke him, wanting to go outside for the third time that day.

Grabbing a hoodie from the hall closet, he wrapped it around himself – was he ever going to be warm? – and led the dogs into the backyard, cleaning up after them for the first time that day. Shivering, he washed his hands.

Deciding it was time to eat, he popped a bowl of oatmeal into the microwave, then picked at it. It was warm, but the post nasal drip running down his throat made him wince with every swallow. With half of it finished, he made a cup of tea – no lemon, extra honey, and returned to couch and his blanket burrito.

The steam from the tea started his nose dripping, and it wasn’t long before he had freed his hands from the confines of the blanket and deposited the tissue box on his lap. Soft liquid blows followed as the sludge that had been in his sinuses loosened up and began to drain its way out

“UhhChushoo, Chushoo!” The pair of sneezes surprised him, and watched the spray settled on the coffee table before grabbing a new set of tissues and filling them, needing a second set to finish blowing his nose. ‘Better take a disinfectant wipe to the coffee table before Jamie gets home.’ He reminded himself before being startled by another sudden sneeze, barely having a chance to clap a hand over his face.

He wiped his hand on his sweat pants and reached for more tissues – better keep these ready; the tea had certainly started something.

He was able to select the sequel to the movie he had just finished watching when the sneezing struck again. “Huhhchishoo! UhhChishh! Chishh! HehhChishheshh!” By the third sneeze, the thin stack of tissues – he really thought two would have been enough- was soaked, and generally, rendered useless. These were not the stuffy sneezes of that morning; these were wet sneezes that seemed to come out of nowhere. If only he were healthy enough to enjoy this…

He took a sip of tea, noting the steam/tea had a spicy scent. He’d grabbed one of Jamie’s teas by mistake, and this particular one always irritated him. However, today, it was just what he needed; it *was* clearing his sinuses.

“Uhhkushhoo, kushhoo, huhuckshoo!”

Grabbing the last few tissues from the box, he powerfully blew his nose, hoping to stop the running for a few minutes. Shedding his blanket cocoon, he padded his way to the hall closet for more

He had no more than opened the box when he doubled over with a powerful sneeze that was unlike his normal, and remained that way for four more. Straightening up, he waited for the wave of dizziness to pass before heading back to the kitchen for a glass of water and fresh tea.

That done, he flopped down on the couch, only to have his phone ding again.

Tim: poolside would be good for you. Soaking up the sun would get you better. Alex says hi - he’s been in rehearsals most of the day while Lyss goes shopping.

Freddie grinned and typed back: Don’t lose all your money at the blackjack table

“He’Chushh.” He rubbed his nose with the tissue, starting to stuff up again, and turned his attention back to the movie.

He must have nodded off because it was nearing the end when his phone woke him again.

Ethan: Hey…it’s Ethan. Heard through the grapevine that you’re sick and alone. Need me to drop anything off?

Freddie read the text a few times, first trying to figure out who Ethan was in his half asleep state. Having placed Ethan, he was then trying to figure out how Ethan knew his predicament. – Tim must have told him.

Freddie: Yeah…sinus infection. I’m good though…Jamie stocked me up pretty good before she left

Ethan: You sure? I went to check on Cashew, so I’m stopping at the deli between there and the hospital. They have pretty good soup…Or if you just want some company? Although I’ll warn you, you’ll spend the evening listening to me sneeze…

Freddie did have to admit, he wasn’t totally opposed to that idea…if he only had a decent voice right now. The thought of Ethan sneezing sent a charge through him that made him feel a little better, but he was not quite sure if he felt well enough for the man to stop over.

Freddie: Allergies bad today?

Ethan: 🤧 Awful. Plus there was a hurt dog in the parking garage after work, and like an idiot, I had to stop to try to check it’s collar for tags. Scared him every time I sneezed. Finally someone else came along and took over for me. Still sneezed in the car for half an hour tho.

Freddie: Jamie will do that too.

Ethan: anyway, I’m still sneezing for my attempts at a good deed. Thought that since I was stopping at Tim’s, I’d hit the deli instead of sneezing my way around my kitchen. Sure I can’t tempt you with some chicken dumpling…

Freddie paused to sneeze before responding:

What about our dogs? I know they’re bred for people with allergies, but I don’t want to risk making you feel worse…

Ethan: They’ve never bothered me before. Labradoodle have never been a problem

Freddie: Chicken dumpling actually sounds really good. Throat hurts so I haven’t eaten much. If you don’t mind driving over here, that I’m a snotty, disgusting mess with no voice….

Ethan: I’m sure I’ve seen worse, man. Text me your address.

Freddie texted over the address.

Ethan: see you an an hour, ok

Freddie: sure. Thanks

“Uhhchushoo, H’chushh, Chuhhshehh.” Freddie got off the couch and headed for the shower, glad he’d have enough time to look human and pick up the used tissues before Ethan got there,.

3 notes · View notes

johobi · 5 years

Text

Satan, Baby

Word count: 2.6k

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

Warnings: If you’re sensitive to religious topics and imagery I would skip this one, some rather major if brief angst, alcohol as a crutch, slightly scary in places, especially if you don’t like goats, fingering, tentacles (yep, however brief), archaic dialogue.

Prompt: “Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?” -The VVitch (2015)

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16946889

When the devil knocks, you’re only too happy to answer.

Gin-gle bells, gin-gle bells, gin-gle all the way!

The greetings card sits, sardonic, opposite you. It has become a tragic premonition of this year’s festive agenda. And the friend who’d gifted it you, gleeful grin and all, likely has no inkling of the accuracy with which it speaks. But how would she, when, blithe flake that she is, no longer favours you for her company this holiday. And not because you demanded it of her; of course not. You’re not the type to presuppose anything of anyone. It had been she who proposed your cosy Christmas twosome. A three-day extravaganza of turkey, gift-exchange and, yes, gin. Indeed, she’d been emphatic in her suggestion. It’s only been two weeks, after all, since you unearthed your ex-girlfriend’s year-long, adulterous deception. And you shouldn’t be alone after that, she’d insisted. But, no. The day before its Eve, your apparent best friend fucked off with her degenerate, drug-peddling boyfriend to a romantic retreat.

Christ.

So much for friendship.

So much for love.

Every unenthused effort you’d exerted in giving that other bitch - the cheating one - the Christmas she’d pouted for was wasted. The lurid lights, the offensively cheery decoration of your living room; it distresses your eyes and heart both. Reminds you how hideous a charade the whole ordeal has been. It’s relentlessly fake. A blanket of spray-on snow over nine layers of flaming lies.

It wasn’t just the pantomime of Christmas, though. Everything had been for Lily.

Your family’s desertion of you, for one. To say that they were disapproving of your relationship was underselling the strength of their abhorrence. Backwards, backwoods, and back-to-back harassment was their mentality and method in a nutshell. But you braved their repudiation for a love so true that it gave you the wings they purported God would tear from you.

If He feels so vehemently that a woman shouldn’t tongue another, though, he can fucking keep them.

And so you sit alone, gin in one hand and your dog snoring under the other, pensive. Numbly so, by this point. One can only weather so much before seeking shelter inside somewhere warm and safe. For you, it’s your mind and in the dregs of a bottle. Can’t drink too much, though. You have work tomorrow. The world doesn’t stop for Jesus these days.

Your drink becomes too cloying to endure. Its bottle, while only half-imbibed, sits suddenly heavy and offensive in your palm, because even alcohol has betrayed you. The stunts your stomach is showcasing deters you from persisting, so you relieve yourself of the bottle’s burden in an extraordinary way. Like an active grenade you lob it into the fireplace opposite and revel, exhilarated, how it enrages the flames for an alluring moment. The crack of splintering glass stirs your dog from repose to alarm in a split second, but you soon have him settled. He peers up at you with a question, but you only need smile before his placidity returns.

Maybe I could skip town? the scenario is heady to conceive. It grips you as you speculate within, everything outside your mind’s four walls forgotten. All but the flames afront of you. As they snap and writhe like the souls of those damned, the fire mesmerises you into a deeper state of introspection. You feel free of the compulsion to blink. Sink further into stupor.

I would sell my soul for another life.

The blaze speaks back. It knows you as well as you do. It is you.

Is that so?

Yes, I would, and there’s no hesitance to your thinking so. In your trance you feel easy, open.

That is quite the sacrifice, your mind supposes, though why you’ve taken on a different, more masculine voice to debate yourself is something you won’t allow yourself to examine.

Your eyeballs prickle in protest for being denied moisture. Nevertheless, it’s impossible to blink. My soul is rotten, if I even have one, and you truly believe that. I’ve been through too much.

The second voice inhabiting your body deepens. Deepens, and mutates, until there’s a trio of them speaking in perfect tandem; a whisper, a growl, and a voice of silver silk. Contrarily, it is luminous. Wouldst thou grant it to me?

“W-What?” you splutter it outside the confines of your internal monologue. Because that is not you conversing back. As soon as the exclamation stumbles over your tongue, your reverie disintegrates. You regain your ability to blink, but within one or two you feel yourself shift into an eerier reality. The fire is no longer quite so bright nor dazzling. The embers gasp their final, fiery breaths as they fade. The room is dark but for the paltry twinkle of your looming Christmas tree. Pluto barrels from the room, tail tucked to his stomach, a piercing yelp in his wake. “P-Pluto?”

Silence.

The rapid in-and-out of your breath is all that meets the muted air. Until the slightest shiver of movement catches in your periphery, and then you’re panting like a dying dog. You shrink into the sofa’s security, legs folding to your chest to screen your defenceless body. It must be a trick of the lowlight, but your eyes insist that there is a figure some eight foot tall occupying the corner. But it can’t be, because the tree’s illumination, however scant, catches nothing tangible. And yet, as your eyes squint through disbelief and murk, you swear, solemnly, that two, twisted horns sit atop this silhouette’s head. “Who’s there?” you don’t so much as threaten as squeak, catching your teeth on the tops of your knees. “Show yourself. How did you get in?!”

One blink and the demonic shadow vanishes, like your dry eyes were the instigator of this nightmarish hallucination. But something still remains there, you’re sure of it. It doesn’t breathe, it doesn’t speak, and it doesn’t disturb this plane of existence in any capacity, but you know it’s there. “Who are you? Have I finally gone insane?”

Your heart-rate is in the cosmos. And it only continues to ascend when the shadow responds, in that same, flanged voice. It’s otherworldly and melodic, bordering on soothing, were it not for the growl underrunning every spoken word. “Thou art of clear mind and clearer eyes. Thou hast summoned me.”

The dark form offers nothing to the truth of its identity, and yet you already know what stands there. There is no doubt in your mind. Strange, when up until this point you’ve been atheistic to the point of obnoxiousness. None of that is of any importance now, though, when faced by a being exuding the formidable truth. “Th-The Devil? I summoned you?”

It’s unnatural how your heartrate quietens when it - he - steps forward from indistinction. With him he brings an aura of utter tranquility, and even on its boundaries you feel like you’ve consumed a healthy dose of some benzo or another. Empty of anxiety, you’re able to appreciate the godless beauty of this man. Yes, a man, or perhaps that is how he’s choosing to present himself to you today. Quite against expectations he’s donned head to toe in white; a suit perfectly tailored to cling, and hair like platinum thread. Wide shoulders and narrow hips draw your eyes first, but then they land on, and refuse to waver from, his divinely-featured face. Everything you see there is sculpted by a deity’s master hand. The man possesses voids for eyes; they neither let light in nor out, and as he observes you without relent, you fear for what might happen if you fall into them. “Thou didst,” he murmurs past ripe, apple red lips, and this distraction is almost more damning. God, you want his mouth. More than all those who came before him.

“I didn’t think you were real. I didn’t think any of this kind of thing was real. What else is real? Do you have a name?” you’re not really the type to babble nonsensically, but you just feel so serene. Weightless. Words are but feathers on the wind, and to release them is to be free. There being an ancient, malevolent entity in your vicinity is of little worry.

“Seokjin is one of mine names,” he smirks; a mere twitch of his generous mouth, and cherubs are in chorus in your heart. The rest of your stumbling enquiries go unanswered. “Address me thus, if thou pleases.”

“You look more like an angel,” you breathe into the space between you.

The Devil smiles wider. It’s tenuous, but perhaps you spy two rows of vaguely pointed teeth. “There is nary a difference. They live to serve their Creator, as doth mine conscripts. I, however, am transparent in mine subjugation. He is not. One might consider that,” he tongues a tapered tooth. “Devilish.”

There’s little time to form an opinion on the matter because he takes two more steps to you, and every incremental increase in his proximity robs you of the wherewithal to function. He’s absolutely breathtaking, fatally so. It’s only when you heave in an urgent breath that you realise how even your most autonomic of impulses are impaired by him. You lower your legs to both see him better and signal your receptiveness to his advance. There’s no suggestion of what he may do when he comes near, but his eyes graze your exposed thighs without apology, only that sultry smirk pulling at his mouth. “Say to me,” he whispers low and slow, savouring each syllable like an indulgent meal. “Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?”

You don’t react verbally, not just yet. Your body, however, gives an immediate answer. There is a diabolical stirring between your spreading legs, intensifying for every second his gaze lingers there. It must be some dark magic hitching up your shift and soddening your cunt, but you sense it comes solely from you. You’re inebriate on his exotic musk, so dense that it fills not only your nostrils but your mouth; an irresistible tang compelling your asphyxiation. Rather than draw breath, however, you release a wanton whine. Each moment you go untouched by him your pussy strengthens its revolt. You’re so, unbearably tender, so shamefully wet, that little more than the heat of his breath on your skin will undo you. That much you’re sure of, as you squirm, open-legged and leaking for his pleasure, beseeching him for his mercy.

“Grant me thy answer, sweet girl,” the demon persists at range. He studies how unreservedly you present yourself to him, leaking so copiously that it moistens the sofa beneath. “I must hear it by thy own lips.”

It takes everything remaining of your modesty to prevent yourself from masturbating. “Y-Yes. I want to live a delicious life. Please.”

The one hand obscured in his pocket, he withdraws, raising it to the air. Adorning it is a ring, inset with a peculiarly flickering jewel. You rise, too, but whether it be by sorcery or out of your own, debauched necessity, you don’t know. The sofa dips under the soles of your feet as you straighten awkwardly to attention. The arousal streaming your legs in depraved amounts demands you keep them apart. An undignified stance, to be sure, but something you care little about in your condition. Fuck, you twinge like a metronome at your centre, mouthing around nothing but a desperate wish.

That wish, Seokjin grants. It’s only one more step before he’s level with your bosom, peering up at you completely soulless. Completely endless. His aroma is spicy and thicker than ever, and more potent an influence on you than the strongest of spirits. “Delightful,” he hums with a resonance that tickles your insides. And there’s no time before he actually is. With just the one, bold hand, he bypasses the lacy hem of your shift and embeds two fingers straight into your pliant cunt. Immediately you are boneless and require his shoulders for support, flagging over him like a damsel courting unconsciousness. You’re very much awake, however, because you feel it all. The quivering of your cunt as he stretches you in slow, circular motions. The press of his fingertips as he palpates your g-spot with enough power to weaken your knees. And then, most peculiarly, how he advances into you even at his knuckles’ limits. What felt like fingers before are now far too thick and flexible to be considered as such. The tendrils that penetrate you lash and writhe along the limits of your pussy, caressing the puckered opening in your cervix. The girth of him transformed is almost too much to bear, but you’d rather be torn asunder than risk his withdrawal. You don’t even think to question the unearthly occurrence. It’s far more gratifying than any appendage a mortal can offer.

But despite your best to keep him, The Devil withdraws. Slowly, painfully, he dislodges his digits from your sticky cunt, until there’s nothing there but an intolerable ache. You tremor as you raise yourself from his shoulders, poised to beg his return. “I need more,” you’re starved; raspy. “Please.”

He doesn’t capitulate to your pitiful plea. Instead, he removes his hand from beneath your skirt, fingers demonstrably fingers. They shine with slick so thick it barely runs. And vacant from his index finger is the ring you swear embellished him once. Confusion can’t establish itself before he ensnares you in his sordid eyes once more. “Sign mine book. Kiss these lips. Thy soul is the price,” he’s guttural but hushed all at once, and before you can fathom his proposition he produces a book in his unsoiled hand. Inlaid with bone and scale, the tome looks primeval. The spoiled, aged pages flip to one without entries, and Seokjin smears your essence in its margins. You require no further explanation.

The quill lies immaculate and waiting. “I can have anything I want?”

“All that thou wishest,” his tongue moves more than his lips do; a serpent behind sharp teeth.

It hurts to behold him much longer. The eyes that bore, unabating, into you; you feel him already taking stock of your soul. He’s in you, somewhere, too hot and too intense. And yet you want more. “Can I have you?”

His self-satisfaction suggests that your request isn’t a revelation to him. Just another of his ploys bearing fruit. “Thou desirest me desecrate your unworthy cunt, girl?” Seokjin waits a beat for your manic head-bobbing. “Very well. Sign thy name.”

You do. There’s no reluctance between your scribbles despite the agony that accompanies it. Each stroke scores itself raw into some unplaceable part of your body; your receipt for this cursed transaction. As your signature dries on the page, it’s with crazed anticipation you meet his waiting gaze. “I’m ready.”

The book slams and disapparates with an ear-shattering snap, but not even that can deter you from your trajectory. Delicately but determinedly, you bend until your lips are a whisper upon his. The kiss doesn’t remain chaste for long, however. Seokjin’s tongue pours like molten lava into your mouth, scalding all it touches. Your eyes drift closed while twined by tongue, and it’s then that he seizes you into a steely embrace. Rough, ravenous hands drag you from the sofa and plant you to the floor beneath him. His heat and weight are suffocating, wonderfully so, and each lap of his tongue is a lick of flame purifying you of misery.

God, you think, staring through the ceiling as Seokjin sinks his whetted fangs into your breast. Let me burn.

#seokjin #kim seokjin #jin #seokjin smut #jin smut #seokjin scenarios #jin scenarios #satan baby #reupload

335 notes · View notes

likethetailofacomet · 5 years

Text

The End is Here- Ch. 7-It Won’t be in Vain

AN ENDLESS SUMMER ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE AU

This all started when @zaffrenotes sent me a prompt asking how Jake and Kara would meet in a zombie apocalypse au. So, thanks, D! Because now i’m obsessed with sweaty, bloody, dirty end of the world Jake and Kara. Ah, true love.

Warning: there will be violence, blood, death and adult relations in this series. this chapter includes character death.

tagging: @ooo-barff-ooo @sleepwalkingelite@brightpinkpeppercorn @zaffrenotes @mind-reader1 @agent-bossypants @endlessly-searching-for-you@endlesstaylormckenzie @mysteli @indiacater@endlesshero1122 @endlessflame @akrenich@feartheendlesssummer @sophie-summer @beccasbadchoices@nekkidmolerat @cordoniantrash @choices-is-life @choiceslife@simmerbychoices @blackcatkita @edgydepressedchoicesthot

Tunes for Grace and Aleister: Devil May Cry, The Weeknd

Faces in the crowd Faces in the crowd will smile again And the devil may cry The devil may cry at the end of the night

The light will shine through the rain And heaven will hear them call your name And home will feel like home again

Grace sat at her work space in the dim light of the desk lamp as darkness fell outside the windows. She yawned and fought the urge to let sleep pull her heavy lids down, blinking a few times before opening her eyes wide. She scratched at her scalp with the eraser end of the pencil in her hand as she poured over the numbers from the last round of tests for what felt like the 2,139th time. She sighed, confirming what she’d known all day- the numbers were the same. Each column matched the previous one. Not a single decimal was off. Grace was thorough and confident in her calculations. She knew that they were correct, that there was really no reason to double or triple or quadruple check them, but she was hoping for a miracle. The gentle hum of the generator had all but melted into the walls to her ears, having spent so many hours in this room with this lamp and these calculations. It almost felt normal. She looked up from her workspace at the empty room around her, at the blank monitors and the empty cubicles, the waste bins full of months old crumpled papers, the overhead lights that hadn’t been powered for nearly a year. It wasn’t normal. But this was life, now.

She dropped the pencil and let it plink softly against the stack of paper. Removing her glasses, she brought her two pointer fingers up to squeeze the bridge of her nose before rubbing her palms into her tired eyes and dragging them through her unruly curls. Leaning her forehead into her right hand she let her eyes fall closed as a single tear slipped out. She was no closer to finding the cure today than she was 347 days ago, when this whole fiasco started. She wished she could call her mother- Blaire and Grace had a strained personal relationship, but there were few people in the world that Grace trusted more when it came to advice of a scientific nature. But even if the phone lines hadn’t been down for months it wouldn’t have mattered.

Blaire had been on Everett Rourke and Silas Prescott’s recruiting radar for nearly a decade, both men trying relentlessly to get her to join their company, to help them put the other out of business. Blaire had refused every time they came calling- she was both perfectly happy running her own company, and completely uninterested in the kinds of shady experiments that both corporations had garnered reputations for. After a few years of radio silence from her science minded suitors, she figured that they had finally taken the hint. Until the day that they both showed up in her office. It had caught her entirely off guard to see both men standing nearly shoulder to shoulder, matching malicious grins plastered on their mouths. They’d told her that she no longer had to choose between them, that they’d made her choice easy for her, joining their two companies and holding a spot for her, the third head of the Hydra, Everett had said. Blaire again refused, causing both men to lose their grins, replacing them with sneers and a promise that she would regret her decision. Mind Control. That’s what they had come to talk to her about, that’s what they were working on. Her hands shook as she watched them leave her office, and she picked up her phone to call her daughter. “Grace? It’s mom. Listen, you need to get out of California. The CDC offered you something, right? You should…you should take it.” She’d hung up that call feeling sick to her stomach over the disappointment in her daughter’s voice- she knew that Grace was hoping to someday take over her position at Mansingh Transglobal, and she knew that Grace would take it as a slight that Blaire was suggesting that she work for anyone else, but she knew that Silas and Everett weren’t kidding and she needed her daughter far away from the fallout.

It came a few weeks before the incident, a few weeks after their final attempt to pull her in. There was a coffee shop just a block or two from Blaire’s office building, and she liked it because it wasn’t a crowded chain with too many options. She never had to wait behind twenty-somethings ordering non-fat, half caf lattes with extra whipped cream, or hear a debate about whether Hazelnut was better than Pumpkin Spice. It was a little local place that simply had great coffee, and the barista had learned Blaire’s schedule, always having a steaming cup ready for her at exactly 7:37 each morning. That morning, just as the cup had passed from the barista’s hand to Blaire’s, a tip in the jar, a smile and a wave, the glass window shattered and Blaire fell to the ground. The dark brown nearly black coffee mixed with the dark red, nearly black blood, and the barista screamed, running to Blaire’s side but it was too late. The sniper had hit his target with deadly precision, and her death was explained away as a rival company taking out their competition. It wasn’t far from the truth, but it wasn’t quite close enough, and no one was ever caught.

Grace had already been working at the CDC facility when the call came in to tell her the news from California. She had stayed at her desk until well into the evening that night, until everyone had gone home or to their quarters if they, like her, were part of the live-in staff. She knew that Rourke and Prescott were somehow behind this, but she had no idea how to prove it, and she realized that it didn’t much matter. Her mother was gone and so was any chance at strengthening their relationship. She was on her own, now. Just as she sighed and clicked off her desk lamp, plunging the room into darkness, a tall, lone figure moved to stand in the doorway and caught her eye.

“Grace,” he whispered her name and leaned into the doorframe as she rose from her desk unsteadily. “Grace, I am so, so sorry about your mother, I-“ he cleared his throat and took a step towards her, one arm outstretched towards her. He shook his head as he realized he had no words that could possibly make anything better for her right now. Especially because of who his father was. “I’m sorry,” he said again, dropping his arm.

Grace nodded and sniffed before wiping away a tear. Aleister had become a friend, despite his ties to Everett Rourke. He’d vehemently expressed his disdain for his father and his disapproval of the types of experiments that he had been working on. Time travel, mind control- he was playing god and Aleister would have no part of it. He’d taken the job with the CDC almost to spite his father, almost as a promise to work against anything he and Silas were working for. Grace had confided in him about the times that Prescott and Rourke had tried to recruit her mother, and it didn’t take rocket science for Aleister to guess that this had been their doing, retaliation or insurance one or the other, but unmistakably it was them. She knew that he was feeling guilty that his father had been a part of her mother’s death. “Aleister, it wasn’t...” she wiped at her eyes again and he took another step towards her. “There was nothing you or I or anyone could do. My mother…she knew. She knew the danger and its why she pushed me into this job.” She looked up at the man in front of her. “She knew it was always going to come down to this because she knew she’d never agree to work with them…” she looked down and Aleister couldn’t stop himself this time from pulling her tiny body into his chest and wrapping her in his arms. They stood there not speaking until they both lost track of the seconds and he walked her to her room.

Aleister reached down for her glasses and gently removed them, his long, pale fingers brushing away the tears that streaked down her caramel cheeks. “I’m here for you, alright? Please know that. You don’t have to go through this alone, Grace. I’m here.” He didn’t know it, but his words had gotten her through the worst of her grieving, and they would continue to get her through now.

Just as the night her mother had been killed, Aleister appeared in the doorway as she sat there with just the hum of the generator and her sniffles to break the silence that had surrounded the facility. Of the hundreds of employees that had been there a year ago, it was just Grace, Aleister and a handful of others who had turned up to help. Where would Grace had gone if she left? Where would Aleister? They had nowhere and no one but this place and each other, and it wasn’t enough for a life but it was enough to survive. “Grace,” he called out from the door and she picked her head up and walked over to him. “Grace, come on, let’s go down to the lounge. You need to relax, okay? You’ve been on those numbers all day.” He put his arm around her small shoulders and felt her release some tension, pressing closer into the soft fabric of his sweater.

“I just…Al, we have to fix this. We have to,” she looked up at him, her voice quiet, her wide eyes pleading. “We have to fix it. Everyone…whoever is left…they’re counting on us.”

“We will, Grace. We will fix it. We’ll find reasons to smile, reasons for everyone to smile. We’ll find a way. But not tonight, okay? The numbers,” he gestured to her stack of calculations, “aren’t going anywhere, they aren’t changing. Come on,” he squeezed her shoulder, pulling her into him even more. “I…I have something for you.” Grace’s expression changed to a questioning one and Aleister smiled.

He walked her past the quiet hall ways where civilians were housed- there had been two pilots flying people to the “safe zone”, a Mike Darwin and a Jake Mckenzie, and the two of them had filled the CDC’s barracks to capacity with healthy, non-infected individuals. Like Noah’s ark, the Fort Collins facility housed as many people for the new world as possible, with as many young children as possible. Grace glanced down the hallway every time she passed it, reminding herself of what and who they were working for.

He led her to the lounge and sat her down on the blue couch against the wall next to the bookshelf full of books they’d both read time and again. She though he might sit next to her and pull her into his arms- in recent weeks they’d crossed the lines between “friends” and “more” but hadn’t put a label on it. It seemed silly to concern themselves with labels when they had so much else to worry about, but it dawned on Grace as he sat her down, that it wasn’t silly at all. They were fighting to fix the world, fighting to bring it back from the edge, so they shouldn’t act like it was past saving or that small things didn’t matter. She was falling in love with him, and as she sat watching him move towards the upright piano in the corner, she realized that she wanted a label for their relationship because it made it worth fighting even harder.

He began to play a soft, airy melody that she’d never heard before, his fingers dancing lightly over the keys, his head nodding in time to the song, a delicate but focused look in his eyes that wasn’t normally there when he played. Grace closed her eyes and let the song into her heart, letting it calm the grief and the pressure and the loneliness. When she finished, she opened them again and found him looking over at her. “Aleister…that was…that was beautiful,” she told him quietly.

Aleister looked down at his hands. “I wrote it for you, Grace. It’s for you. It’s so you can remember that there’s so much more to life than returning everything to how it was. It’s” he looked back up at her. “It’s to remind you that things might look bleak but there can still be beauty.”

Grace felt her breath fall from her lips as she crossed the room and threw herself into his arms. A small “Oh!” escaped him but quickly turned to a chuckle as he laid his palm against her cheek. “I love you, Aleister,” she whispered against the skin of his neck. He dropped a light kiss to the mess of curls on the top of her head.

“I love you, too, Grace. We’re going to fix this, you and I, and we’re going to find lots of reasons to smile. I promise you.” In his promise she heard, I promise I won’t let my father win, I promise I won’t let your mother’s death be in vain, I promise that we will make this right.

Day 348 came to a close with the two of them falling asleep against one another on the hard blue couch in the lounge, surrounded by books they’d read and games they’d played and music they’d listened to. But for the first time, they let themselves experience the love that had been growing in the darkness, and for the first time, Grace fell asleep with a tiny ember, a small flicker of hope inside her heart.

*** *** *** ***

Some 800 miles away, Jake lay awake with Kara resting lightly against his chest. It had been four days since they encountered the Traffickers, three since they’d acquired their truck, and in the morning they’d be leaving the apartment and heading for the safe zone. Their plan was to take the truck as far as they could, until they ran out of gas or it broke down, and they had all breathed a sigh of relief knowing that at least for a bit they wouldn’t be on their feet, wouldn’t be exposed to the cold, would actually make a dent in the mileage that spread out between the Gateway Arch, already falling into disrepair after not even a full year of neglect, and the Rocky Mountains. Kara made a sound in her sleep and he brushed his fingertips against the exposed skin of her forearm, wincing just slightly with the small movement. His wound was still causing him a great deal of pain, but the medication that they’d found- that Sean and Estela had given them- was keeping infection at bay and according to Michelle that was far more important than keeping pain at bay. Jake looked down at the woman cradled against him and had to agree- he could endure any amount of pain if it meant more time with her. He could endure any amount of pain if it meant she didn’t have to go through the agony of losing him. He took a shaky breath and let it out through his nose, the air ruffling her feather soft light blonde hair. He could ensure any amount of pain if it meant getting her to the safe zone, getting back there to see his family…introducing them to the woman who’d given him a reason to keep on living. He pressed his lips to her temple, a signature on the love letter he’d been writing her since they met in that hardware store months ago. He left his lips against her skin as he drifted off to sleep, hopeful for the morning and for what they had ahead of them.

Faces in the crowd will smile again And the devil may cry The devil may cry at the end of the night

They will parade upon your victory They will parade upon your victory You'll put a smile upon their faces The world will be yours for the taking The story you birth will be ageless Just learn to love pain and be patient

#es #the end is here #es zombie apocalypse au #es zombie au #jake x mc #jake x kara #jake mckenzie #endless summer #grace hall #aleister rourke #grace x aleister #choices fanfiction #es fanfiction #es crew vs zombies #es crew vs the end of the world

25 notes · View notes

honestsycrets · 6 years

Text

Irreplaceable PVII: Who Was He?

See my masterlist for the rest of the series.

One day, something was different.

Time had passed. You knew something was off. Not with you but.. Kitta. She hadn’t gotten up yet; and while your relationship was strained as of late, you knew that you had to check on her. Ivar had gone raiding some time ago and while you waited for him to come home, you had your obligations. The main one of those was to keep Uxi clean, happy and fed. However, Kitta is your other obligation.

“Kitta?” You press the ruddy curtains apart. Little Uxi bubbles in beside you, trotting on his fat little feet with Ragnhild following close behind. There is nothing but silence. All of the Queen’s things are as they were. Her fluffy bed is neatly made and a luxurious dress drapes over the furs in a smooth, deep red.

“Ma!” Uxi chirps, doddling in with bubbly giggles.

“Maybe she woke early, my lady.” Ragnhild says stomping after Uxi who seeks out her loom. Turning the corner of her bed, you think maybe she has gone out to oversee Ivar’s newest defenses before you trip onto the ground with a thud, a small groan bumping off of your lips. The soft, squishy firmness alerts you that it was a body-- Kitta’s limp body. You tumble off of her, crawling over her side.

“Kitta!” You shake her shoulder, looking her over. Her pale night dress ims oist with blood about her stomach, sure, but also lower. You yanked up her nightdress, finding the scent like a miasma of blood and infection between her legs. You don’t need to be told to know what had happened there. But her stomach?

“Ragnhild, call me a healer!”

Kitta woke up a while later despite her best efforts not to at all. Days had passed and while you didn’t know what to tell Ivar when he landed, he understood on that misty pier why his first wife wasn’t there. Another miscarriage had taken her over in grief and with Ivar not around? She had hurt herself.

“I wasn’t going to kill myself.” Kitta says one night after dinner. Sure, she didn’t. She just dipped the knife into her gut for fun. “I was just… angry.”

You sit beside her with the remnants of your griddle cooked fish in your lap. Ivar had been by her side relentlessly since he came home. Now, he is asleep while you care for her. “I understand.” You say. “I was similar… when I lost my virginity.”

Kitta turns her head away from the roof bracing beams. “Who was he again?”

You flush. It had been sometime since you thought of Ubbe. Yes, perhaps at night… when no one was around, you thought the sex fondly. You would drag your nightgown over your thighs for better access. You remembered how his fingers twisted, the taste of salt and blood on his lips from Uppsala’s live sacrifices and how he brought you to your knees without even being inside you.

Your cheeks are hot. “No… I couldn’t say that.” You leave your hands from your fish in order to drift up to your cheeks.

“Tell me about it. Look at what I did. I need something to keep me entertained.” She says up to you before motioning down to her stomach. Technically-- you didn’t owe her shit. Not after she disrespected you, but you were weak to her. You look over the wound in her stomach. As much as you fought with her lately-- as much as you found yourself jealous how your husband would drop anything for her, she is charming. You want to make her emerald eyes glisten again.

“It… was a Ragnarsson.” You admit. Her eyes go from big-- to bigger.

“His brother?!” She squeals out. Your hands clasp over her mouth while looking back to Ivar. You don’t know what he would do if he knew. Lately, he had been... changing. In a way, you chalk up his aggression to the birth of your son. Even Hvitserk was on the receiving end of his rage. All so often, you would reassure him that Hvitserk was nothing to be so insecure about. Hvitserk was a friend. A sweet, kind friend.

“Yes. Don’t tell Ivar-- he’ll be rash.” You hush her. She tries to press for who.

“If it isn’t Hvitserk, it might be Bjorn, Ubbe or Sigurd. Let’s hope it isn’t Sigurd.” Kitta narrows out the competition. Hvitserk is an awful lover. He would have tried to sneak in already if it was him. Besides, he seems to be little more than a brother to you. The empty look on your face when Sigurd is mentioned tells her that it couldn’t be him either.

“Ooh, so you caught his older brothers. Ivar was mine. Was the mystery brother any good?” She asks.

You thwack her with your with your rag from cleaning after your meal, pressing a bit of buttered bread into her mouth. “You’re prettier when you’re quiet.” You mumble.

“So wh...y di’n’t you marry ‘im?” She asks between crumbling bites. It all came rushing back.

“You don’t want to marry me?” Your hands folded in your naked lap. Ubbe slid his trousers back over his ass. You spent much of the night and into the last morning you would be in Uppsala with Ubbe. Your cunt was stuffed full of his seed and yet-- he was leaving. “I’m not ready.” Ubbe says. He hover his shoulder with the bundle of braids shifting. He stretches his hand out to graze over your plump lips. “I would make you miserable. I’ve done enough damage.” You weren’t sure whether that was good or bad. In one way, at least he wasn’t the type of man to trap you in marriage. But as you remembered, you took a tea of pennyroyal a few weeks later.

You wish you could banish those thoughts away.

Kitta healed nicely. It was none of your business what had happened between Ivar and she. They discussed it and that was the extent of what you knew. You had not whined to Ivar about the past month he spent with Kitta. While she healed the last few months, you spent time with your now year and a half year old. Uxi climbed whatever he might be able to find, tried to leap off of heights and snuggled the stuffed toys Ragnhild made him to death. So that day, when you hear the stomp of a crutch from behind you, you didn’t honestly expect to see Ivar in the doorway.

“Fa!” Uxi whips away from your skirts at lightning speed, pointing his index finger as he bolts towards his father. He stops short of him, pointing and inching back as Ivar moves forward.

“Uxi, come here Uxi.” Ivar calls, walking toward the table to ditch his crutch and maneuver onto the ground. It was easier for him when chasing his child. Uxi makes a huffing noise, chuffing laughs out but timidly keeping beside you.

“Go Uxi. Go with your fadir.” You pull your skirts away, from his little hands to urge him forward. He takes a few shy steps up to him, poking him in the cheek.

“When did he learn this?” Ivar asks, eyes drifting down to Uxi. He pokes again and runs off to hold your skirts. Instead of catering to his shyness, you fall onto the ground beside your husband. A few pokes later he lost interest, zigzagging through the room to bring Ivar back miscellaneous items. Very quickly the mound of random items begins to build into a small hoard.

“A few days ago.” You smile, stacking block and ball and on the top of the hoard. Then you hand the boy a piece of bread. “Give your father a kiss, Uxi.”

Uxi holds one of your glass bead necklaces in his other plump, tiny hand. He boredly tugs your necklace while you blow soft kisses to the little boy. Uxi moves forward so that you might place a kiss to his cheek.

“Good boy.” You worship. Ivar swipes up his son to hold him in his lap and buries his face into the side of his neck. It lasts only seconds before Uxi breaks his father’s grip and shoots off again. Ragnhild follows him, giving opportunity for Ivar to drag you into his lap. He presses kisses over the body of your neck. You hum appreciatively for each kiss, dropping your hands down to Ivar’s on your hips.

“I found something out.” Ivar drags his lips, the tickle of his moustache against your skin up toward your ear. “Kitta told me one of my brothers took your virginity.” Ivar whispers into your ear. “So who was he?”

Your heart palpitates. She TOLD him?! You should have expected as much but somehow-- you feel betrayed. Your whole body rips into shakes within his arms. The words-- his name, it’s caught on your tongue. Uxi comes back around, handing you his piece of bread then turns away and runs to play again. Ivar glimmers a half smile at the boy before it drops altogether. He teases his lips around the shell of your ear, turning his face in your hair.

“It doesn’t matter.” He hums. “I’ll just fill you up with another child instead.”

Since he found out that one of his brothers had claimed your virginity months ago, everything had changed. He kept Hvitserk within eyesight when you were in the room. Despite not asking again who had taken your virginity, you knew that he was punishing his brother for one of them having done it.

It was the midsummer’s festival and the celebrations were abound. You had woven wreaths, tossed corn doilies into the roaring flames and Ivar had blessed a ship under Baldur’s name. Your father and many other kings were there-- including one familiar one from your time in Uppsala prior to your marriage to Ivar.

King Sverri. A king of icy lands and fine wolfish furs.

Also the King that dragged you out of sorrow-- once upon a time. It feels so long ago now. He’s grown his muscles, lean as he is. You may have feasted the sight earlier-- curious to the bodies of men. It was only natural, you assure yourself. You would never cheat on your husband.

“Do you dance, my Lady Princess?” King Sverri staggers beside you on the beach, his dark hair curling down over his pale skin, catching on the stubble. He was a tall, willowy thing donned in a rich green tunic, belts carrying axes on either side of his hips.

“I can’t say I have since we last met!” You laugh.

“That’s been years, my Princess.” Sverri spins you around the raging beach fire towards an adorned maypole spinning in brilliant red and drab white and black. It is up in celebration of the Vanir for fertility both for Midgard and the humans residing upon its surface. For as fearsome as the king was, the feminine flower crown on his head from Kattegat’s young girls made him as happy as sunshine.

The king was of course not doing such dancing. He spun words with the other kings and his brother. Hvitserk recounts so called sensual occurrences between the Christian women and he-- noting that they may look shy and modest but were anything but.

“Where is (Y/N)?” Ivar asks just as Kitta sat beside him on his sandy blanket. He takes Kitta’s hands up for a small kiss. He quickly realizes that the roll in her eyes is purely because he asks where you were. His eyes slip away from the burning embers to crowds of men and slaves.

“Dancing.” Kitta says, wiggling a new ring on her fingertips for a kiss. He gives her another, mumbling his words on her ring.

“With Hvitserk?” He asks, though it sounds more like a statement.

Kitta shakes her head. “With the King Sverri.”

“What?” His voice drips down into a low snarl. Ivar’s demeanor shifts, dropping her fingers.

“They’re actually kind of cute— Ivar!” Ivar drops to the beach, dragging himself through the sand. Kitta follows after him.

“She’s pregnant. It's harmless if Sverri fucks her. Better yet to give him incentive to keep his men and shieldmaidens with you.” Kitta chimes in. Ivar snarls up at his wife, jerking back as the shuffling of people around him kicked aggravatingly small grains of sand in his face.

“Shut up! He’s not touching her.” Ivar drags himself until he caught sight of Sverri twisting you back in from a spin. You hit his chest a bit clumsily. One of his hands slip away from his upper chest toward his shoulder. Sverri’s calloused hands dip low on your back. His moppish black hair tickles your lips and you look away from him when he leaned in for a kiss. Sverri draws back in his defeat, letting his forehead rest upon your head.

“A… ah. I think my husband might not… like this.” You hum. Sverri keeps quiet, eyes glazing you over.

“I wouldn’t either… if you were mine.”

“(Y/N)!” You press away from his chest. A harsh call of your name from below alerts you to Ivar. Immediately you know from the wildness in his eyes that you were in some sort of deep trouble. You break away completely from Sverri to run over to your husband, beginning to kneel in the sand.

“Iv… Ivar. That wasn’t-- I didn’t mean to.” You came up beside him. He reach out to tug you down. You tumble on the ground a little harshly, hands flying instinctually to your stomach. Ivar lurches over you, ignoring both Sverri and Kitta. Your hands hook around his neck as he bears down at you.

“Let us make something clear. I may share Kitta… But never you. You are the mother to MY children. Do you understand?” Ivar asks. You look up into his blown wide eyes. Ivar slips his slender hips between your legs. Was he going to make a display of you here? You wish you could melt away.

“Yes… my husband. Perfectly.” You mumble. As soon as his rant has began, it ebbs. You have neither the time nor the energy to fight his burning need for dominance over a foreign king. At the end of it all-- you were his.

Every king would know. King Sweyn would know with his lavicious eyes that bore a little too long at your ass during ceremony. King Faksi-- who gave you in marriage would know. This king from a far distance would know. He’d know very well.

“We’re going to your rooms.” Ivar snarls, dragging himself through the sandy beach. As you lay there, Kitta slips behind you to pull you up. In a mixture of frustration, you look to Kitta.

“Why would you tell him about Ubbe and I?” You ask her, finding that her eyebrow cocks. Your back stiffens the moment the words hit the surface-- you just slipped.

“I said nothing about Ubbe, (Y/N). Or Sverri.” Kitta laughs. “I only told him a brother fucked you. But now I know which.”

“I trusted you not to tell him, Kitta. I took care of you!” You shove her back, finding Kitta was quick to fall dramatically. Despite her creating a scene, she wears an amused smile. Sverri jerks forward to grip your wrist when you were about to jump her.

“She isn’t worth your time, my Lady Princess.” He whispers in your ear with a warm, soothing puff. You drop your raised fist.

“(Y/N)!” Ivar calls you.

Sverri was right. She wasn’t.

@igetcarriedawaywithyou , @kylobien , @titty-teetee , @breathlessouls , @nejijjeoroo , @bcat1291 , @readsalot73 , @mslothbrok (no mix), @romanchronicles, @ateliefloresdaprimavera , @ailucascen , @michaeliskindahot , @ilovemyangelforever, @directionlessbuthappy , @hizz-hizz-mothertruckerz , @some-blondes-unicorn ,@atequila, @rekdreams247 , @ivarswonderlust , @writingeverynowand-then , @hp-hogwartsexpress , @minarawr , @haliannej, @strangunddurm , @cbouvier23 , @peachesnpisces , @elenawrit , @Equalstrashflavoredtrash, @roxxck , @ilvebeenabad , @vikingsmania , @the-geeky-engineer , @huntingbears , @my-little-wolfe , @mitchiri-nek0 , @seize-the-droid , @Certifiedpoison, @hotshotstar , @a-writers-dreams , @quaint-and-curious-being, @ivarthotbrok , @mitchiri-nek0 , @dakotacheyenneee-blog, @salimahbicharara-comun, @capstefanbrandt, @kickbacksnextdoor , @alicedopey , @imagine-this-motherfucker, @zoetrope1997 , @kingniazx , @lost-and-wandering-alone , @amandaseibaek , @queenmissfit , @calaena-banrion , @memememememe1-blog , @lost-and-wandering-alone , @rubyquartzshades , @naaladareia, @lisinfleur , @abwrites

#ivar the boneless #ivar #ivar x reader #vikings imagine #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #honestsycrets #vikings/reader #vikings fics #vikings imagines #ivar the boneless/reader #ivar/reader #viking ivar #imagines #irreplaceable prologue #irreplaceable update #history vikings

560 notes · View notes

sending-the-message · 6 years

Text

My Mother Kept Everything by TheTrueRory

As a kid, you never really realize when your parents tend to be different. To you, they’re just you’re parents. But eventually, the whispers start, the ongoing murmurs, and you can’t help but think about your parents in a different light. That moment tends to be unforgettable, even if regrettable.

I was seven when the whispers got to me. I’m from a small town, very small, very closed off, very religious. The type of town that seems ten years behind the rest of the world around it. The kind of town where you call everyone by their first name, even at seven.

We lived outside of town, on a small farmstead that had been in my family for a few generations. Though we had sold most of the land and no longer farmed, we kept enough for ourselves to live off of. A few cows for milk, a few chickens for meat, nothing special. Just small time country life.

You’d think that we would have this grand sense of space, being out in the country, no other home for two miles in any direction. The Great Big Empty, as my now-fiance refers to it. But it wasn’t empty to me, nor my family. No, my family’s property was filled with everything, scrap and junk and garbage, because my mother kept everything.

Back then, “hoarding” wasn’t a known compulsion by any metric. But a medical diagnosis wasn’t really a necessity when it came to Coffee Row, the rumour mill every small town is at least familiar with.

“I’ve heard she goes to the dump and steals all the old mattresses.”

“It’s such an eyesore.”

“I’m surprised none of her kids have caught some sort of disease from playing in that yard.”

“Well, they aren’t the brightest of kids. Probably get that from her.”

“Bruce isn’t the brightest man in the world either. Look who he married.”

These phrases, repeatedly spoken by the crotchety retirees at the local coffee house, would then trickle down to mouths of their kids, and their kids, until a punch of third graders couldn’t help but think of me and my family as dirty. And, well, you tend to internalize those things after awhile. I didn’t think too highly of myself in my childhood.

And, I mean, they weren’t necessarily wrong. No, my mom never went to the town dump to steal old mattresses or broken down equipment. Actually, I don’t think she ever went to the dump once in her life. To her, everything would eventually have it’s purpose. “It’s better to have something and not need it then to need something and not have it” was a common wisdom she imparted on us kids. Though after a few years, I can’t help but see it as a defensive posturing than anything else.

By the time I became aware that my mother’s “collection” wasn’t as common as I suspected, my father had given up on trying to curb her ways. The strong and silent type, barrel-chested and heavy-hearted, he thought it best just to let things be. He didn’t care of the whispers and the murmurs and of Coffee Row. He just wanted a simple life with his family. And if having to live in what others considered a condemned area was what stood in the way of his loving happiness, then that’s what he would do.

My mother seemed normal, to me at least. I know I was just a kid, but you’d think any sort of compulsion would have more signs, more symptoms. But no, not really. My mom was just…a mom. She made me packed lunches. She baked things for the school bake sale. She made me Halloween costumes. From the inside, everything was normal, everyday, life.

But that was until the rumours got to me.

I didn’t confront my mom. I mean, what’s a seven year old going to say? Stop being weird? Throw some of this shit out? No, I never told her how I felt. But my resentment was something that became obvious to the rest of the family.

“Never you mind what the other kids say,” my father told me, sitting in the near darkness of my room one night after a bedside story. “They’re just bitter people with nothing more to talk about then that they don’t understand.”

“But I don’t understand it, Dad!”

In that near dark, only half illuminated by my bedside lamp and the nightlight plugged in beside the door (used as a guide when midnight nature called) my father took a moment before saying, “I don’t either. But I don’t think it’s our place to understand.”

After that, I tried my best to push it all away. But parents tend to forget to pressures of the classroom, and the resentment still tended to boil up from time to time. It was the approach of my eighth birthday that really made things clear to me that I wasn’t dealing with the family farm situation properly.

“How did it go today, hunny?” my mother asked with her usual brightness. She was almost always cheery when me and my little brother got of the bus, espicially on days she didn’t work a shift at the county hospital.

I didn’t reply, choosing instead to have some classic childhood seething. But she wasn’t going to give up that easily.

“Did you remember to hand out the invites?”

“Nobody wants to come, Mom!”

I was louder than I had wanted to be, on the verge of tears, but not backing down.

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean? I handed out all the invites to everyone in the class, but nobody wants to come to a birthday party in a junkyard, Mom!” I turned to storm off to my room in an overly dramatic way that would have been suited in a melodrama than from an almost eight year old. My mom didn’t stop me. I glanced back and she was just standing at the other end of the hall, watching me walk away.

After that outburst, my mother wasn’t as cheery when I came home, but she didn’t throw anything out. She didn’t clean the yard or the barn or the three abandoned sheds that dotted our grazing field like rat infested infections. Those sheds, which me and Shaun, my younger brother, called the Junks, was the worst of it. We rarely ventured out to them ourselves. To me at least, the insides of the Junks were what I imagined my mother’s mind to be like. Decades old newspapers piled high, broken equipment, rusted tools, all of our school projects and hand drawings and childhood activities, labelled and stored and stacked and stacked and stacked. Organized is a polite word to use when describing having to actually carve a pathway from one side of the room to the other.

Every once in a blue moon something would come up and my mother would need something from on of the Junks. An old certificate. A decoration for a rare occasion. A newspaper article about a study from years gone by (this was before the advent of Google made such discoveries simpler). And off to the Junks she would go to find her well kept gold. “It’s better to have something and not need it” as her saying goes. Sometimes she’d come back, item well in hand. Many times she didn’t.

I never liked going to the Junks myself. I didn’t like the idea of lifting up some boxes to find a rats nest, or something long ago dead. It never happened, but imagination is a powerful thing. And after a few years of quiet resentment following my eighth birthday outburst, and the growing distance between myself and my mother, I was never sent out to get anything anyways.

School life, of course, never helped either. The birthday shut out was one of many that I would experience in my small school. The friendship pool tends to be small when you have less people in your entire school then most city classes. And every class needs an outcast. That’s tradition at this point, right?

It wasn’t until grade ten that I made a friend. A girlfriend, in fact. She moved to our small town after her dad became the doctor at the county hospital. She wasn’t a big fan of country life, I could tell, but the pay for being the only doctor for miles around was too much to pass up, and the man himself came from a neighbouring community. So I started dating my mom’s boss’ daughter. Some might think that might make things complicated, but much like the friendship pool, The dating pool isn’t something small towns are known for. Not to disparage those who end up marrying their high school sweethearts, but in these situations it’s more beggars can’t be choosers than anything else.

I was worried when I first started dating her. The other kids teased relentlessly.

“You’re gonna catch something from him. The plague is somewhere in his yard.”

“His mom’s fucking crazy. You must be too if you’re dating him.”

“Don’t go to his place unless you have your tetanus shot.”

She didn’t really give them mind, but after awhile (in teenage days, “awhile” is a month at most) it did start bothering her. I never invited her over to my place either. I was embarrassed, and I think that bothered her too. She thought we were sneaking around, that I didn’t want her to meet my family. Again, she was only half correct.

Three months into the relationship, though, a situation arose where avoiding having her over was really not going to work: a long weekend with the house all to myself. Every horny teenager’s dream, and it was happening to me. Mom, Dad, and Shaun were all going to the Grand Canyon for a fun family vacation. Me, being the brooding teenager that all fifteen year olds aspire for, asked to be left home. While my Mom protested, my father talked her into letting me get my way.

“He’s becoming a man, and if he wants to stay home and work, I don’t see a reason to stop him,” I overheard him saying to her one night, long after I was meant to be sleeping, sneaking out for a cold glass of water.

“You know that’s not why he’s wanting to stay home as much as I know it,” she retorted.

“He’s a teenager, Maggie. I know you two have had your problems, and you think that this is just another step of distance, but he’ll come around. Trust me on that. In the mean time, let’s just give him some space.”

She didn’t reply, and I snuck off without making a sound. The next morning, it was settled. I was a man, as my father said, and could make this decision myself. Though, as he reminded me thoroughly, this meant I wasn’t get a vacation, period. My chores would still be well in affect throughout the weekend, he said, but the smirk told me that if things slid, the punishment wouldn’t be the harshest.

They left early in the morning on the Saturday. I was planning on sleeping in myself, as every fifteen year old plans, but was groggily, gently shaken awake early, by my mother, sitting beside my bed (something of a rare site, her being in my room).

“Mom? What’s going on?”

“Just wanted to talk to you before we left.”

She looked around my room,, as if seeing it for the first time. I was groggy and annoyed at being disturbed, but I noticed the sadness that seemed to blend into her usually sturdy eyes.

“Everything okay, mom?”

She looked back at me, that sadness even sharper, “Yes, yes, everything is…fine,” she sighed, “you know I wasn’t a fan of having you stay home alone this weekend, but here we are. You’re father can be rather convincing, as you know. I just wanted to say…you’re a man almost, but not yet. But almost. And I guess that’s harder to accept than I would like to admit.”

The grogginess abandoned me. A sobering conversation like this was a rarity from my mother, and it deserved my full attention. Yet, she just sighed, this sigh seeming to be an apology of sorts as she slipped off my bed to stand.

“I didn’t want to leave while we were both angry at each other. I guess we’ve been angry for a long time, longer than we should be,” I could see it, that sadness was not a new thing but something that was always there, just deeper, maybe smaller, but always, always, “I hope that when we get back, we could maybe try not to be. How does that sound?”

“That sounds…that sounds good, ma.”

She smiled at that. She always enjoyed being called “ma”. But the smile seemed to curdle, turn in a second, as another thought drifted into view. The true purpose of this early morning reconciliation.

“I know that you’re planning on having the Somner girl over while we’re away. Don’t, don’t get upset or indignant. I don’t much care to argue about teenage love at the moment. I only have one request from you.”

She looked at me, the sadness gone, replaced by an affirmation, a forcefulness which surprised me after such tenderness.

“Don’t take her out to the sheds. I know that it wasn’t on your mind, and that you’d probably be preoccupied otherwise, but it needs to be said. Don’t take her out there.”

I didn’t know what to say. I was just confused, very confused. I would almost have laughed if not for that harshness in her eyes, and that tone, that don’t-mess-with-it tone. I just nodded, which was enough for her. Her features softened once more, and left my room without another word.

Saturday afternoon, Morgan came over, and that’s when things changed for me.

I had tried to make it as perfect as a fifteen year-old could. I cleaned the house as much as I figured I should and then some, I washed up nice and clean, I made a true presentation of what we were all taught romance was. Even with the scrapyard front yard and the closets burdened with random assortments of just stuff, I thought the day would go off without a hitch.

Morgan was a year older than me and got a car for her sweet sixteen. Nothing to flashy, but enough to make her squeal with delight when it first arrived, and enough to get her to pull into my yard early that afternoon. I had wanted her to come early, make a day of it, you know? Go for a hike, take her through the garden, show her the points of my family life that didn’t embarrass me to no end. Hopefully offset her initial reactions from pulling into the yard.

That all changed the moment she arrived.

“Imagine seeing you here,” she said playfully as she stepped out of her car.

“Yeah, imagine that,” I walked up and kissed her, quick deep and all too excited. She laughed at this see-through nervousness and looked around.

“So, I guess this is why you never invited me out before.”

I looked around, ashamed of it all, “Yeah…yeah I guess.”

She looked at me, saw it all, all that guilt I apparently had, and couldn’t help but laugh a little, “Come on, it’s not that bad. So you’ve got a few junkers and clunkers and stuff. What’s the big deal?”

I looked at her, and smiled, “Wish I knew.”

She rolled her eyes and started towards the house, “Don’t be so dramatic. Come on, you going to show me around or what?”

“Depends what ‘or what’ might mean?”

(I always thought I was more creative with words than I actually am)

She looked back at me, smiling, God what a smile, “Don’t be an idiot, please. I don’t like idiots.”

I smiled, too. Until…until I saw her eyes wander from me, and her smile fade, as those eyes locked onto something off in the distance.

“What are those over there?”

She pointed off behind me, and I turned to see she was pointing out, across the field, through the junkers and the clunkers, straight across to The Junks.

“Oh, those? Those are just The Junks. That’s what me and Shaun call them, at least. They’re just…just more of all this, I guess.”

(There’s that shame again)

“Can we go out there?” she asked as she already turned and took steps away from the house.

“What? Why?”

“I...I just want to, I guess? Can we go out there now?” She was now walking for them, seemingly not caring what I had to say on the matter.

“Morgan, you don’t want to go out there, they’re just full of garbage. Come on, let’s go inside.”

She just continued. She didn’t look back.

“Morgan, come on!”

Nothing. I went after her and grabbed her wrist.

“Morgan, stop!”

She did, and looked back at me, but not like she ever had before. There was a moment, just a moment, a flash, of hate on her face as she pulled free of my grip. If she hadn’t pulled free, I would have dropped it out of shock.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Jesus Christ, what’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing! I just…I want to go out there, okay? Why the hell can’t we? Why are you being a jerk about it?”

“I’m not being a jerk, I just don’t want to take my girlfriend out to the shitty junk buildings where my mom stores all her useless shit! Okay?”

She looked at me, just looked and nothing more, for a few seconds before turning and continuing towards The Junks. I didn’t run up and grab her wrist this time. I just followed behind, confusion clouding my mind, anger choking my throat, and a chill, a coldness, crossing my body.

She stalked her way through the field, stomping down the long wild grass which prevailed throughout the field, weaving her way around the destitute machinery and piles of rubbish which littered the field. I simply followed, nothing else I could seem to do, no protests to be made.

She stopped dead centre of the three leaning and over-sunned buildings. Any paint that had once existed on their rotting exteriors had since given way to the unforgiving gift of time. The windows were empty, gaping holes, robbed of their glass by wailing winds and weak installations. The doors barely existed, a courtesy extended to the interiors more than actual protection from the elements. Standing there, actually taking them in instead of taking them for granted, they didn’t really seem like buildings as much as memories long since abandoned.

I walked up behind Morgan, almost tentative, worried I’d send her off on another rage tangent. She didn’t react to me, simply staring up across the buildings which fascinated her so much.

“There you go. Three eyesores, just like I said. Happy?”

“What’s in them?”

I shrugged. “Junk, like I said. Newspapers, old toys, family projects that never took off, antiques that aren’t worth shit, I don’t know. Nothing worth salt, really.”

“But, what’s really in them?”

This question sent chills down my back. The way she said it, eyes wide and body slack, like a child, it was unnerving. Her voice no longer sounded like her own, like the voice that liked to whisper things privately into my ears. She sounded and looked like a complete stranger in that moment.

She was moving again, cascading forward towards the door which only ever held back layers of old, forgotten junk and the shame I felt for it all. A door that, to me, was nothing but rotting boards and rusty nails. A door to nothing. But to her, to my teenage heart-breaker, it was a door to all she seemed to want and more.

I wanted to not move, not from my place in front of the three Junks, but my mind was gone, blank, as those chills that shot throughout me went from creeps to fear to terror in giant leaps and bounds. I marched, steps behind her, but I watched it all like I wasn’t there at all. Like a security camera watches the murder of a late-night service attendant.

She reached out and pulled the door open. The hinges screeched, cried out, not from rust, but from some sort of…of satistaction. A moan of disgusting approval. And those doors revealed...nothing.

Pure nothing.

A blackness that is unknowable, unexplainable, stood in that doorway. Inky , thick, tangible blackness. This was not simply the absence of light, this was the death of it. Light touched this and simply stopped existing. In fact, the blackness seemed to feed off the light, to grow and pulse with each moment of exposure to life outside it.

Morgan stood outside the throbbing, living blackness, not taken aback, not shocked or confused or even afraid. She stood there and breathed it in, watched it with a fascination, a love that was almost as dreadful as the blackness itself.

I wanted to scream, to do anything. And I almost did it, almost pulled myself together enough to run over and grab Morgan and slam that door shut and never, ever come back to these horrible ruins again in my life. I almost did it. But then the sounds reached me, and overpowered every ounce of will I had gathered to that point.

The screams. The blackness was screaming, wailing, rasping. It was like listening to a thousand deaths. It was the sound a soul makes when it is wrenched unceremoniously from it’s unwilling host. It was a sound that came with a stench. It made my blood curdle in my veins. It made my heart stop beating.

But Morgan…that smile, that whimsy simply grew on her face as the orchestra of hell reached her. In the ecstasy of evil, she seemed to love the song it sung. For her, it wasn’t horror she heard, but a siren call, a lullaby. An acceptance.

She didn’t look back. Didn’t say anything. Didn’t make a noise. She simply took a step forward, and was gone. And worth her, in a blip, in the blink of an eye, the nothing was gone. In a blink of an eye, I stood there, alone, looking at a rotten building filled with rotting things, but things nonetheless. The blackness, the horror, the screaming, was gone. And with it went Morgan, forever.

I was found by a neighbour, crying, screaming, running but almost collapsing. I don’t know how long had passed, I don’t remember anything else from that weekend, from the rest of that year really. Everything I’ve heard about it is second hand, whispered amongst the townsfolk and told to me by my brother on his less than sober nights.

The police. The investigation. The allegations. None of them I can recall. Any time I think of that day, the sucking, feeding screams return, and I just start to shake all over. Therapy doesn’t help. They want you to talk through it, to write it out in a private journal, to make it real, and I refuse to do that. Drugs don’t help either. If I slip into something less, something relaxed, something even one step away from this heightened fear that I have forever resting in my heart, then it returns. That hunger. That screaming black hunger.

My family, already burdened with the strange looks my mother had always gathered, were now outcasts. We weren’t formally dejected, but we were never welcome anywhere again. Both my mom and dad lost their jobs, my brother and I were basically ostricisized at school. We weren’t welcome here, not in this small town, or any of the neighbouring ones. Wouldn’t be surprised if the whispers of our names reached coast to coast. I know that’s the paranoia talking, but I still wouldn’t be surprised.

But we never moved. It wasn’t even discussed, wasn’t even a consideration within the family. It wasn’t an option.

Years later, after both my brother and I had gotten as far away from that middle of nowhere, middle of nothing town, I went home to visit. I didn’t do it very often. Though I had grown up to both look more and act more like my father than my younger years would have initially suggested, the buzz that my visits generated at Coffee Row still caused my skin to crawl.

It was my final night of a four day visit. My father had gone to bed at that premature time that older men who have known little else besides work seem to need. It was me and my mother sitting in their living room, both reading quietly, enjoying just being together but not needing to say it. The sitting area was towered over by books, wall to wall, books stacked to the ceiling, and doubled-up in other areas. It made the room both comfortable and suffocating, with a sudden jolt of Earth undoubtedly ending our lives under the hard covers of Holmes and Hemingway.

I sat reading only to stop and look up. My mother, hair tinged grey, face lined with years of secrets.

“What’s up?” I asked. She just continued looking at me for a moment more, seeming to decide something.

“I know what happened to her.”

“What happened to who, ma?”

“The girl. That Somner girl from years ago. The one that you try and pretend you’ve forgotten about, and that you’ve gotten over. I know what happened.”

My mouth immediately went dry, my heart raced. Simply hearing that name, remembering, remembering all that darkness. That empty.

“Mom, I never told you what happened.”

“You never said what happened because you couldn’t. No man could.”

Her face, her lines, they seemed to age before me, to by weighed down, tortured by what she was thinking about. She took her time, but I waited.

“You don’t see what I see. Neither does your brother, or your father, or any man. You can’t see what we can. I don’t know why, so don’t bother asking. All I know is that this land, our family’s land, my family’s land, has belonged to us, has been our burden for much longer than I think we can really know. This land has been our responsibly. The men are to protect the women, and the women are to…to stop it.”

She looks at me, deep and hard and knowing, and that’s all she feels she needs to say to describe everything in that nothing.

“There’s no need to ask me questions about what it is or what it does. You saw it. You know that no matter what, it’s not a good thing. No, no, it’s where goodness goes to die, that’s for certain. And it’s our family job to keep it back. To keep it contained. To keep it hidden.”

She stops now. Getting this little bit of information out seems to have drained her from any remaining energy she had. Much more and she would simply fall asleep where she sat.

“Mom, why are you telling me this? Why now?”

Her eyes became harder, her mouth set in place.

“Don’t you understand? It’s our family’s duty to keep the darkness at bay.”

My heart beat so hard, but my blood ran cold, sluggish, as what she was saying was dawning on me.

“It’s our duty…but I can’t see it. And dad can’t see it. And Shaun can’t see it.”

She nodded. That was it. That was the end of the conversation.

It was our duty to keep it out, to keep it locked up in the Junks or whatever the fuck those buildings actually were. It was our job…and I can’t even see it.

The Great Big Empty. That’s what my fiance calls it. That’s what most anyone would call it. Any man, at least.

I wish it was empty. I wish it was that simple. I wish that it was the empty we actually know, a quantifiable empty. But it’s not. It’s a hungry empty. An empty that will rob you of everything you are.

An empty that is now my fiances’ responsibility.

#reddit #nosleep #scary #story

13 notes · View notes