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pickalilywrites · 4 months

Note

How about a sequel to your Is It Too Late? fic you wrote a few years ago? And it's a New Year's version. Yes, the gang has another party. Rivetra has their first kiss on midnight. Other Ships are allowed.

yessss. thanks for requesting it. it's nice to revisit my old fics and rly heartwarming to know people still think of my old writing fondly enough to ask for more. have a great new year!

just in time

rivetra. modern au. 2219 words. part i. read on ao3.

Levi is appreciative of Hanji and company’s help (or rather, meddling) in getting him together with Petra, but he didn’t think it would mean he was indebted to them forever. In this past week, he’s plunged more toilets, cleaned more apartments, and moved more furniture than he has in all his years living combined. He’d complain, but he’s found that no amount of grumbling makes a difference. To his friends, manual labor is nothing in comparison to finding “true love,” or at least that's what they tell him whenever he tries to back out. It’s also why they’ve arranged to have the New Year’s Eve party at his apartment even though he knows he’ll be left cleaning up the mess once the party is over and everyone has gone home.

For all the trouble they’ve put into getting him and Petra together, Levi has found that his friends have no trouble in keeping them apart (albeit unintentionally). Apart from the first five minutes right after Petra’s arrival, Levi and his girlfriend haven’t been allowed any time alone together. Levi is always being called to one room or another to help with something: spilled drinks, finding more glasses, fixing the party decorations. Just when he finishes another task, someone drags him over to finish a new one. Funnily enough, Petra seems to also be having the same problem.

“Levi,” someone says, and Levi turns around to glare at the person who has just called his name. The culprit of his ire, a surprised Sasha Braus, only looks mildly startled at the daggers Levi is shooting at her through his gaze. Sasha, food tucked away in the pockets of her cheeks, holds out an empty plate that had once been filled with appetizers. The finger food was meant to serve everyone, but Levi suspects that Sasha had eaten most if not all of them herself. “You’re out of appetizers.”

Levi blinks back at her.

“Can you get more?” Sasha asks. She chews a bit before swallowing all the food that had been in her mouth with a huge gulp. The brunette, aware that the host is still shooting her a frosty glare, flashes a bright smile at him. “Please. I’d do it myself, but I’d probably make a mess in the kitchen. You know me.”

Unfortunately, Levi does know Sasha and about her penchant for making messes. It’s a trait that she and most of her friends seem to share. Levi hates having to do everything, but it gives him less people to clean up after if he just does things himself.

He snatches the plate from Sasha’s hands and grumbles, “Be right back.”

Levi stomps over to the kitchen where a few of Sasha’s friends are chatting by the drink table. He tries his best to ignore them, but he’s aware of their gaze against his back as he rummages through the cabinets for more snacks to fill the plate. The first round of appetizers were artfully arranged crackers, hams, cheeses, and jams that were curated with the help of Erwin and Hanji, but Levi doesn’t have the patience to make an aesthetically pleasing charcuterie board every time Sasha licks a plate clean so he dumps as many different crackers and cookies he can find on a plate and fills up another plate for good measure.

The little band of friends are still sneaking glances at Levi when he turns around and begins making his way back to the living room where Sasha is no doubt waiting hungrily. Levi keeps his gaze forward and his gait brisk, attempting to walk past without making eye contact, but his efforts are in vain because someone calls his name.

“Levi!” a voice calls, and this time it’s Jean fucking Kirschtein waving him over with an idiotic grin on his face. The idiot is still smiling when Levi walks over with a scowl, but at least his other companions have the sense to cower or look downward to avoid Levi’s gaze.

“What do you want?” Levi snaps, and his harsh tone makes Armin Arlert flinch but it doesn’t have an effect on Jean at all.

“It’s almost midnight!” Jean says a little too loudly. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are a little too glassy. It’s evident that he’s been drinking. “We wanted to have the little streamers. You know the ones that pop? Connie brought some when we came over, but you put them away. Do you remember where you put them?”

Levi does remember where he put them. He had hidden them away intentionally because of the mess those dumb pop out streamers make, not to mention that the fireworks going off will make enough noise without the streamers already. Levi had hoped that Connie and his friends would forget about the streamers after drinking and getting caught up with the other New Year’s festivities, but it’s clear that he’s underestimated their memory. He briefly considers lying and telling Jean that he doesn’t remember where he’s put the streamers until Eren speaks.

“If you don’t remember, we can find them!” Eren says. He grins nervously when Levi’s icy gaze settles on him. No doubt Eren is trying to be helpful, but Levi trusts Eren least of all when it comes to keeping things in order. If Eren and company try to find where Levi had hidden the pop out streamers, there’s sure to be a mess.

“I’ll get them, but you had better clean up every last piece of confetti off my apartment floor before you leave,” Levi growls.

Eren and his friends nod their heads vigorously. Only Mikasa, never one to be afraid of Levi and his thinly veiled rage, rolls her eyes.

Levi shoves the plates of cookies and crackers into Connie Springer’s hands. “Bring those to Braus in the living room,” he orders before storming off.

As he makes his way to the hallway closet where he’s stashed the streamers behind some winter boots, Levi bumps into Hanji and Erwin. Both of them smile when they see him, undeterred by the dark-haired man’s scowl. Hanji is about to open their mouth to say something but Levi is quicker with his words.

“If anyone asks me for one more fucking thing, I’m burning this entire party to the ground,” Levi hisses.

Erwin’s eyebrows are raised in surprise, but Hanji only giggles at Levi’s empty threat.

“Didn’t you just pay next month’s rent? I’d wait until the end of January so you get your money’s worth,” Hanji laughs but their smile falters when they realize the extent of Levi’s disgruntlement. They reach out and squeeze Levi’s arm. “Aw, come on, Levi. Lighten up. It’s a party! You should be enjoying yourself.”

Erwin nods, but he’s turning his head and looking around the party distractedly. With a frown, he asks, “Where’s Petra, anyway? Shouldn’t you be spending time with her instead of running around doing whatever it is you’re doing?”

Erwin’s questions are making Levi want to tear his hair out. “People keep asking me for fucking favors. If I let them do things themselves, they’re going to make a mess that I’ll probably have to clean up later,” Levi says through gritted teeth.

Hanji and Erwin exchange sympathetic looks. Hanji even looks a bit guilty as they reach up to tug at the base of their messily tied bun. After a moment, Hanji says, “Sorry. We’ve been inconsiderate towards you and taking advantage of your goodwill. Let Erwin and me take care of the rest of the party. We probably can’t keep everything clean enough at least according to your standards, but we’ll try our best. At the very least it’ll lessen your burden and you’ll be able to spend time with Petra.”

“Better hurry though,” Erwin says as he glances down at his watch. “It’s going to be midnight in a few minutes. You should find her fast.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Levi huffs. He quickly passes on the task of finding the popping streamers to Hanji and Erwin before directing them towards the hallway closet. Even though it’s probably true what Hanji said about them leaving a mess (albeit a smaller mess than Eren and his friends would leave), Levi’s shoulders do feel lighter as if a weight has been lifted from them. Now all that’s left for him to do is find Petra.

He doesn’t dare step out fully from the hallway. He knows if anyone sees him, there’s a big chance that they’ll call him over to finish some task or other. Levi hides in the shadows, peeking out from the corner to survey the living room. He finds that there is not Petra in sight. He could check the kitchen again, but he’ll probably run into Eren and his friends again and they’d wonder why he’s returning empty-handed. He considers sending Erwin to look for Petra in his stead when he hears Hanji hissing his name with urgency.

“What?” Levi asks, almost annoyed until he sees Hanji gesturing behind them.

“Petra!” Hanji whispers as Erwin nods beside them. Hanji jabs their thumb in the direction of Levi’s room. “She’s waiting for you in your room!”

Just as Hanji says that, Petra sticks her head out and flashes a guilty smile at Levi. The ginger waves a hand at Levi, signaling for him to follow her. Levi needs no further prompting and whispers a hasty “thanks” to Hanji and Erwin before disappearing into his room. He shuts the door softly behind him, a sigh of relief escaping his lips.

“Where were you? I was trying to get to you all night. You didn’t get my texts?” Petra whispers even though it’s far too noisy outside for them to be overheard even if they were to speak at a normal volume. She stands close to him. The moonlight from the window is the only light illuminating her face. Her eyelashes cast shadows across her cheeks as she looks up at Levi.

“My phone was on silent. Besides, people kept calling me over to do them little favors,” Levi grumbles. He glances down at his phone and sees all the missed texts he had received from Petra. His most recent text from Hanji that says, “Go get some!” Levi rolls his eyes before tucking his phone into his pocket before asking Petra, “And what about you? Where have you been all night? I saw Historia calling you over for something and then you just disappeared the rest of the night.”

Petra groans and rests her forehead against Levi’s shoulder. “Ugh. First it was Historia, then Mikasa asked me to do something for her, then Eren got a paper cut and asked me to help him disinfect it,” Petra sighs. She looks up and gives Levi a tired smile. “I got kind of tired of it and snuck away after a bit.”

“Huh. I figured people would have left you alone regardless,” Levi says.

“What makes you say that?” Petra asks with a wrinkle of her nose.

“I told them you were taking a huge shit so they’d leave you alone,” he replies. He doesn’t flinch when Petra smacks his chest.

“Why would you do that? Oh my god, now everyone probably thinks I’m diarrheal or something,” Petra groans.

“I don’t see what you're so embarrassed about. Everyone shits,” Levi says, which earns him another smack on the chest.

This is the most time he’s spent with Petra since the party started. Even though they’ve distanced themselves from the others and the New Year’s festivities, it’s oddly nice. Levi prefers being alone with Petra, although he’s regretful that he hadn’t just snuck away with her earlier.

Petra’s hands reach up to cup his face and brings him close enough for their foreheads to touch. Her eyes look like darkened amber in the dim light, but they still glitter like jewels when she smiles at him. “You’re thinking too much,” she tells him, still keeping her voice in a whisper.

“No, I’m not,” he lies. “I’m not thinking at all.”

“Yes, you are. You think you’re so mysterious, but I can read you like a book, Levi Ackerman. Right now you’re thinking, ‘I should have spent more time with Petra. I should have just snuck out instead of letting everyone drag me around and doing favors for them. Now it’s too late to enjoy anything with her.’ But you know what?” Petra grins at Levi and pauses. She tilts her head slightly and Levi follows her gaze to his bedroom window where a streak of white crackles through the sky before exploding with color. Before long, more fireworks burst through the sky and when Levi returns his gaze back to Petra’s face, he can see them reflected in her eyes. Petra brings him even closer and whispers, “I think you’re just in time.”

The gap between them closes and their lips meet as the fireworks continue to burst outside. Levi wraps his arms around Petra’s waist and brings her close, kissing her just as he should have done earlier tonight instead of waiting for the new year to arrive. He’ll make up for lost time now, he decides, and savors the taste of her on his tongue as he presses kiss after kiss endlessly against her lips.

#snk #rivetra #petra ral #levi ackerman #modern au #asks #answered #anon #anonymous #requests

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vinesinmyheart · 2 months

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The Pawn

My mother never wanted me. She never really wanted children at all, but after her accident in her senior year of high school, almost ten years later, my dad had worn her down.

The story goes that she got off birth control and was pregnant with me 8 days later. I don’t know if my mother was bragging or complaining when she told that story, but I was the ambitious fetus occurring from their efforts.

I was born 4 weeks late. The resentment had already begun, no fault of my own. Not that, it ever had to matter. Resentment was handed out freely in my home. No fault required. I once made her a necklace with a new bead set I’d gotten, I was maybe six or seven. Toward the end of the night, I sheepishly asked if I could have the beads back because I gave her all my beads. She threw it at me and told me I was a taker. Resentment was never far away in my house. Feeling less than was how I was raised to function.

My lateness had revealed to doctors via ultrasound in 1979 that I must be a boy. My mother joyfully prepared a room of guitars and baseball prints. Just right for her baby boy. Her mind set on rearing another boy. Something familiar, something easy.

After 44 weeks of pregnancy the suction on my forehead released, I dropped, and labor began. My mother, a delicate woman, fainted with every contraction. Every time I needed her help to guide me toward life, she’d disappear into unconsciousness. A beginning so fitting to the life ahead. When the final contraction passed and I was placed in her arms, I was as foreign as could be. A girl. The doctors had been wrong. Her brain reeled. Yet, for her, I did have purpose.

As a small girl I held my mom on the highest pedestal. She took me everywhere. We went shopping every weekend. I was in all the clubs. Modeling and charm school. Brownies, ballet, tumbling. If I got sick she would buy me a dress to make me feel better. My birthday parties were the biggest and best in the neighborhood. I thought all of this was for me. I thought she loved me. I thought this was what being a mom and daughter team looked like.

Then one night, I’m woken from sleep. I hear yelling. I go to the hallway, my mom is hiding behind my brother, he has a bat and my dad is by my side begging them to calm down. Saying he won’t do it again. My heart aches with this familiar loneliness. I’m a tiny paper boat drifting in an ocean filled with aircraft carriers. I wander to the kitchen. The refrigerator had been liberated of its door, and it sits crooked, but still standing. There’s a jar of broken mayonnaise on the floor.

I walk away.

My mother is in the living room. She’s leaving. Oh! I’m leaving too. Surely, she’s taking me where she goes, out of this hell. I run after her in my ruffle bottom nightgown over to the passenger side of her red Hyundai Excel. I sit down and pull my seat belt on and turn to her immediately, expectantly awaiting the plan for our escape.

“Get out”, she tells me

“What? You can’t leave me here. Where are we going. You have to take me.”

“Get out, Erin. You have to stay here.”

“But… “

“Out. Go in the house.”

And I did.

My tiny cold feet felt every bit of texture in the concrete as I slowly walked back into the house where violence and beer and hate made the rules.

I realized, she never signed me up for clubs for me. She signed me up for her. I was her doll. When a girl came popping out instead of a boy it was the perfect opportunity to pour her time into a cute little project. My dad had no interest in having a little girl. Her doll to use as a time suck. Keeping her away from the man she never loved, but used to get out of a town she’d become bored with. Another pawn. All her life she’d used people as pawns and I was no different.

As an adult that lesson showed itself to me again and again until I had to cut all ties with my mother several years ago. Beforehand, I’d attempted to talk to her about the night she abandoned me. The night that made me. She denies it all. Of course. The honesty of the truth would be so painful.

I hear she’s dying of cancer.

Sometimes I check for her obituary.

Either way it won’t really matter to me.

She abandoned me years ago.

#mother #mother trauma #healing #blogging #blog #self care #wisdom #healing journey #family trauma #complex ptsd #ptsd recovery

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ratquesadilla · 2 years

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just tell me you love me, cause that’s all i need to hear (chapter 1)

pairing: rhett abbott x oc

word count: 2520

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42427557/chapters/106814451

girl meets boy, girl falls for boy. boy falls for girl?

prologue

----

“rhett.” i said, nudging the pile of alcohol poisoning with my knee. “get up.”

“5 minutes.” he complained into his pillow. “that’s all i need.”

“you said that.” i paused, checking the time on my phone. “5 minutes ago.”

“whatever.” he droned, slowly rising from the hole he’d created for himself in his drunken state. rhett looked down and noticed the dried vomit staining his collar and pulled his black shirt over his head with ease. my eyes darted to the bull rider tattooed on the right side of torso, the tail of the bull pointing towards his armpit, a faint red blur surrounding it. i would be lying if i said i didn’t care, i always did. every new girl rhett entertained was like another knife through my heart, another reminder that the boy i’d been pining after from the sidelines would never be mine. i was always watching him from the stands, observing everything about him, but never being the girl he kissed after he set another rodeo record.

in a room full of people, my eyes would always be drawn to him. to his almost mullet that perry and i teased him for everyday, or his cowboy hat that he’d worn every day for the last decade. but he didn’t think the same about me. in a room full of people, his eyes would be drawn to the prettiest girl. i was at peace with that, after a decade of unrequited love you get used to it. i knew that every interaction between us was strictly platonic, and i knew that it would stay that way.

“the more time you take getting dressed it less time you have to eat.” i said, turning away from him and walking towards the door. “we leave for church in 20 minutes.”

“you don't even believe in god!” he half-yelled as i exited the room. i didn’t have to turn around to know that he was thinking up a million different childish insults. when he’d finally decided he shot an “ass-kisser…” at the back of my head.

“i know you are but what am i” i quipped back, flashing him the middle finger before turning the corner and descending the stairs.

i wouldn’t call our relationship complicated, it was actually very simple. it was like we’d known each other for forever, even though we’d only met almost a decade ago. we were like childhood friends, with all the cheesy cliches. if my life was a movie he was the boy nextdoor and i was the lovesick girl.

but this wasn’t a rom-com, this was real life.

——

sundays were the laziest days on the abbott ranch. the only requirement was that you were downstairs ready for church at 10, and at the dinner table by 6. everything else was free game.

the mornings were always the busiest. cecilia was tearing through the kitchen like a tornado, preparing breakfast for everyone. it was the one day a week she would always cook. eggs, bacon, pancakes, everything under the sun. in recent years she’d increased the number of carb-y dishes she made. it was no secret that rhett spent his saturday nights drinking his liver to death, so the pancakes and bagels were meant to soak up the leftover alcohol in his stomach, a creative approach to sobering him up before church.

bounding into the kitchen i noticed amy first, sitting in her chair on the end of the table closest to the phone and leaned down to lift her over my shoulder. moving to the living room and spinning in a circle. “hazel dawson you better not damage my furniture!” a voice from the kitchen shouted.

“i would never!” i shouted back, letting amy down. she immediately darted towards her uncle who had just descended the final stair into the foyer. walking back into the kitchen and taking a seat. “good morning cecilia.”

“mornin.” she replied, briefly turning from the bacon on the stove to meet my eyes. “i expect you got rhett out of bed?”

“yes ma’am.”

“no mystery girls?”

“no ma’am.” i replied, trying my best to not let a smile break my face. i wasn’t prepared for anyone to catch onto my feelings for rhett, especially his mother. it wasn’t that i was worried she wouldn’t approve of me, i knew she would. it was the itching feeling that if i told anyone what i thought about him, he would somehow find out. keeping the love i had for him secret burned a hole in my heart, but i knew it was for the better. i couldn’t risk ruining what we had and i would rather suffer in silence than lose a friend.

rhett and amy arrived in the kitchen not long after me, amy taking her seat across from me and rhett taking his next to mine.

“rhett you smell like a distillery.” perry said, choking on his coffee.

“and you smell like the girl from the pharmacy.” amy added, not looking up from the plate of eggs and bacon cecilia had just handed her.

“vivian mansfield are you serious?” i said, slapping rhett’s arm. earning an “ow” from him.

“what?” he complained. “it’s not like we’re dating or anything.”

“rhett abbott i will not have you talking about the girls you proposition.” cecilia interjected, dropping a place of pancakes in front of him. “especially on the lords day. now eat, we need to leave soon.” the conversation quickly readjusted itself. small talk ensued for the next 10 minutes until royal came tumbling into the kitchen through the back door.

“y’all hear that?” he asked, a confused look on his face. almost as if he’d just seen an alien.

“hear what?” cecilia asked.

“that noise.”

“i’ve got nothing.” perry said, rising from his seat and placing his plate in the sink. the rest of us following suit.

royal stood there like a deer in headlights, his face completely blank.

“what are you still doing standing there?” cecilia questioned, staring directly at royal. “we leave for church in 5 minutes.”

“church?” royal asked. “it’s only 9.”

“check your watch grandpa.” amy said, pointing to the clock on the wall. “you're an hour late.”

royal muttered a string of curses under his breath, earning a stern look from his wife and a concerned look from me. punctuality was a big thing for royal. in his eyes, being early was on time and being on time was late. what is going on with him, i thought. ultimately deciding to ask him later, when he wasn’t so out of it.

“abbotts in cars lets go lets go lets go.” cecilia exclaimed, pulling me out of my thoughts, and gesturing us towards the front door.

of the 6 of us, there were 4 trucks. royal’s, rhett’s, perry’s, and mine. rhett’s had been purchased with help from his father, and his bull riding prize money, as a gift for his seventeenth birthday. in recent years perry and i had nicknamed it the “fuck-mobile”, the name was self explanatory. everyone usually avoided sitting in his car, worried about sitting on a unholy stain or or accidentally touching a used condom. but hey, at least he was being safe.

all of the trucks were three seaters, so we usually traveled in 3 cars. royal and cecilia in one, perry and amy (and occasionally rhett) in another, and me and rhett in mine. today rhett decided to hitch a ride with me, saying something about how he was too hungover to listen to amy's upbeat songs. whatever the reason, who was i to complain?

——

the car ride was silent for the most part, mostly because of rhett’s raging hangover and my brain being caught between worrying about whatever was going on with royal this morning and being extremely jealous of vivian.

vivian mansfield, compared to me, was perfect. it made sense that rhett would choose her, even if it was just for the night. i wanted her long blonde hair and her virtually perfect hands. they hadn’t been worn down by years work on the ranch, she had the type of hands that look good tangled in someones hair, intertwined with someones fingers.

when i was younger i would lie awake at night wondering what rhett liked about the girls he got with. wondering if i could dye my hair to look like theirs, or dress more like them. i would imagine that i was one of the girls he would drive around with, dream that i was the girl he would kiss. i would come up with elaborate scenarios whenever i got a chance to daydream. thinking of a future where we would grow old together, and shamelessly also imagining elaborate scenarios where he would have me in his truck.

rhett abbott was the only boy i would consider having car sex with.

“so.” i said, taking one of my hands off the wheel to begin picking at my cuticles. “you excited to ride tonight?”

“pretty nervous actually.” he said. “if i don’t win i don’t go to counties.”

“pressures on.” i joked, managing to pull a brief chuckle out of him. “you’ll be fine.”

“i know i will as long as i’ve got you, i mean y’all cheering me on from the stands.” he replies, catching himself after the ‘you’. almost like the two sides of his brain were at war. the wishful side wanting to push through and the logical side keeping it in check.

rhett was a logical man. like his father he was no nonsense, he didn’t get caught up in what ifs he simply went with what he had. if he didn’t place in a competition it was never, “what if i didn’t do xyz right.” it was always, “i had a bad riding day” or “it was a bad bull”. after rebecca there was a shift in his thinking, he stayed level headed but the wishful side of his brain grew. it pushed harder and went from being a minor inconvenience to something like a devil on his shoulder.

rhett abbott had become plagued with anxiety.

he would never admit it, of course. but it was true.

——

right column, back row, 2 chairs on the end.

every sunday royal and i sat there for an hour exactly, enduring the service and wishing for it to be over faster. we were the only non-religious people there but we were respectful. we stood when they stood, lowered our heads when they did, shook hands whenever an arm was extended to us, and placed money in the collection bin when it eventually made its way to our distant corner. i was by no means evangelical, but there were times where i wished i was. times when i wanted to believe that there was a reason i was struggling. i thought that believing in a higher power controlling what happens to me would make everything make sense. make me feel better about my suffering because it was all apart of “god’s plan”.

“until we meet again, i want all of y’all to tap into your heart. let your instinct lead the way, go with the flow.” the pastor said, concluding the service. prompting royal and i rise, and wave quickly at the rest of the abbotts before heading towards the door.

“so,” i said, tapping the toe of my shoe against my heel. a bad habit i’d picked up when i arrived in wyoming. “what was up with you this morning.”

“nothing.” royal said, keeping his head straight and walking faster towards the truck.

“that’s bullshit and you know it.” i exclaimed, rushing forward and turning around so i could face him. “tell me what’s going on i want to help.”

“it’s nothing right now, just had a bad feeling.” he replied, waving me off and lowering the tailgate door. “you ready for the rodeo tonight?”

“i guess.” i muttered, kicking at the dirt behind the wheel. “not really in the mood today.”

“c’mon, you love the rodeo.”

“yeah, guess i’m just out of it.”

my feelings for rhett were the only thing i kept secret from royal. there was no way in hell i was gonna tell him i had a childish crush on his youngest son.

he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me into a hug.

“you know you’re just like your mom.” he said.

“yeah.” i replied, a smile forming at the corners of my mouth. “d’you think cecilia will mind if i leave early? i’ve got a couple errands to run.”

“you should be fine, just be at the rodeo in time for rhett’s ride.” royal said as i slid off the truck bed.

——

i lied; i didn’t have an errand to run. but i needed to get out of there.

lately being around rhett was suffocating- like i was 17 again, watching him fall in love with maria olivares- and i just couldn’t handle it.

my feelings fluctuated. there were times when i could function as a normal person, when everything was normal. and there were times when all i could handle was my daily chores. times when it felt like i was being crushed by the weight of every inconvenience piling up. it was an indescribable feeling, constantly changing. always unpredictable. highs and lows coming and going at a moments notice.

i pulled into a parking spot on main, in front of the handsome gambler, pausing for a moment before getting out of the car. the skin around my nails were bloody and raw. fuck, i thought. mentally berating myself for bringing back the destructive habit. the bar was dark, and depressing, but hey; what else was i gonna do on a sunday? drinking away my feelings was an excellent idea.

“can i get a beer?” i asked, sliding into the stool farthest from the door. not bothering to look up at the bartender.

“day drinking?” a voice to my right questioned. “it’s only 1pm.”

“yeah well i’ve had a rough morning.” i sighed out, turning my head to catch a glance at the mystery man. “and i don’t think you’re in a position to judge.”

“and why’s that?” he asked.

“because you’re also day drinking.”

“i guess the pot’s calling the kettle black.”

“y’know i’m supposed to be the one saying that, right?”

“tomato, tomato.” he joked, handing the bartender some cash. “let me pay for your drink.”

“take a girl out first.”

“maybe i will. you free on thursday?”

“i don’t even know your name and you think i’ll go out with you?” i teased.

“adrian.” he said, extending his hand and initiating a handshake.

“well, adrian.” i said, pausing before saying his name. “it’s your lucky day. i’m very very free on thursday.”

“how about the movies? they’re showing footloose at 8.”

“sounds like a plan.” i giggled, taking a second to stare at him. he was no rhett abbott but boy was he good looking.

and after the years of bad luck i’d had looming over my love life like a storm cloud, who was i to turn down a date?

#outer range #rhett abbott #outer range fanfic #rhett abbott fanfic #rhett abbott x oc #royal abbott #cecilia abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott x y/n #perry abbott #amy abbott #luke tillerson #trevor tillerson #billy tillerson

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sorry-apsalar · 1 year

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Frender Drabbles: Paternal Issues

Summary: more hurt/comfort but with fry’s trauma

[A/N] Oops, comfort didn't exactly happen in this one. Fry decides he'd rather emotionally run away from addressing the fact that he might have some unresolved trauma and Bender is Bender. Together they have the combined emotional intelligence of a sack of potatoes.

This was why Fry never liked to talk about his childhood or parents, everyone always gave him the kind of look Bender was giving him now. The kind of look one gave to those who just confessed to something horrible having been done to them. But nothing horrible had been done to Fry. He was the younger less achieving brother so of course his parents didn’t pay much attention to him. That’s just how it was for everyone, right? Or at least everyone from his home time.

“You ran away for three whole days and nobody noticed?” Bender asked, sounding almost like he didn’t believe it.

“Uh… yeah.” And it was supposed to be a funny story because his parents had certainly always told it as if it were funny story so it had to be. Though the way they’d always told it was that he’d ‘claimed’ to have run away for three days because they seriously hadn’t known until he’d asked them if they’d noticed. How big a deal he’d made of it when learning that was apparently the funny part. “I was fourteen so they assumed I was in my room all day.”

“That’s fucked up. Even I’d noticed if you disappeared for that long and I don’t have time to pay attention to all your silly organic fickleness.” As if he didn’t notice when Fry left unexpectedly for even just an hour or two. “But if this is an attempt at making me feel bad for taking all your money so I start going easy on you, it failed. Read ‘em and weep.” He threw down his cards on the table between them. His hand was certainly better than the one Fry had just laid down by a long shot.

“I’m starting to think you’re cheating.” Or he was just really lucky in addition to being good at poker.

Bender made a sound like he was trying to imitate an offended gasp. “Me, cheat? I would never.” With a chuckle, he pulled the pile of bottle caps they were using in place of poker chips to his side of the table. “That’s twenty more bucks you owe me. You wanna go another round to try to win it back?”

With how little luck Fry was having he should probably decline and insist they leave the kitchen to watch TV in the living room instead. But… “All right. I’m shuffling this time though.” He gathered up the cards and pulled him towards himself.

“Seriously though,” Bender said as Fry split the deck, “you should see a meatbag therapist, or whatever Leela was talking about the other day, about your paternal issues. They’re almost as bad as hers and she didn’t have parents growing up.”

“I don’t have paternal issues.” He’d had a perfectly normal childhood with perfectly normal parents… probably. Of the few friends he’d had back then he hadn’t been close enough to any of them to go to their houses and thus meet their parents. So he didn’t have much to compare his parents to that weren’t fiction or Leela’s parents and they didn’t count because they hadn’t raised her, not really anyway.

“Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that.” Bender didn’t sound the least bit convinced.

“I will because it’s true.” Probably anyway. … But if even Bender believed something was wrong with the way Fry’s parents had raised him then… maybe something was wrong? If so, it was too late to do anything about it now though other than to complain and that wouldn’t get him anywhere so why bother? Fry would much rather go back to chatting and trying to win at least a single game of poker. He’d get lucky eventually, maybe even this next hand, wouldn’t that be neat?

#my writing #futurama #frender #frender drabbles #philip j fry #bender bending rodriguez

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larkawolfgirl · 2 years

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Heart of Christmas (Sorikai)

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, M/M, Multi Fandom: Kingdom Hearts Relationship: Kairi/Riku/Sora Characters: Kairi, Sora, Riku

Summary: Kairi has a Christmas surprise for her boys. They are more than pleased.

Read on ao3

This is her second try at this. The first didn’t go quite as smoothly as anticipated, not because of lack of enthusiasm, but because of a lack of equipment. This time Kairi is prepared. She smirks as she skips up behind her unsuspecting boyfriends and holds out two stethoscopes. “Merry Christmas!”

Dishwater splashes at the edge of the sink as they turn around at her sudden appearance. Sora’s eyes widen, traveling to the stethoscope but quickly returning up to her chest. “What are you wearing?”

Kairi twirls, knowing full well doing so causes the miniskirt of her sexy Santa dress to flutter up and show off her matching red panties. “Figured with it being Christmas Eve and all, we might as well have some fun.”

“I won’t say no to that.”

“Me neither. And these?” Riku asks, gesturing to the stethoscopes.

“Well,” she fiddles with her hands, “last time we sort of fought over who could listen to who, so I thought this way we could all listen together.”

Sora grabs her by the shoulders. “Hot Santa and listening to your heart? Count me in. Like right now.”

Kairi giggles and Riku flicks him on the forehead. “I get it, but we still have to finish these dishes.”

“Aw, really?”

Kairi picks up the dish towel laying on the counter. “I’ll dry to make it go faster.”

Together, it takes them less than three minutes to finish washing the dishes, although Sora’s happy dance looks like it had taken them an hour. Riku dries his hands on the dishtowel, but Sora wastes no time in pushing Kairi back against the counter and kissing her senseless. Kairi isn’t about to complain despite the fact that his hands are still wet. Unconsciously, her eyes fall shut. When she reopens them, Riku is shaking his head, expression fond.

“Are we going to have to clean the counters now too?”

Sora whines. “I guess? Come on, look at her? I don’t want to walk all the way to the bedroom.”

“Cause it’s so far.”

Kairi laughs, but she kind of understands Sora’s point. She likes the idea of sitting on the edge of the counter and slotting her legs perfectly around his hips as he pounds into her at just the right angle. They’ve lived in this apartment for over six months and have yet to christen this particular room. Sadly, she wants one thing more than that, though. “I’m down for kitchen sex, but I only brought those two stethoscopes out here.”

“You could go get hers.” Sora does not even bother to look at him, too caught up in staring at Kairi’s cleavage and peppering kisses on her face.

“Do it yourself.”

“If I move, you’ll just steal my spot.”

Riku smirks. “Exactly.”

“Please? Kai wants to do it here too. Don’t you love us?” Now he does look at him and Kairi knows he’s giving him those puppy eyes he can never resist.

“Jeez, fine, but you better let me in on this.”

Sora leans away enough to kiss Riku in thanks. “Why don’t you ever wear anything like this? If you were wearing some nice outfit I’d have you up against the counter instead.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. You’d make a hot nurse. I’ll wear one for you, if you want.”

“Really?”

“I’ll even let you pick the costume.”

“Okay, now I will gladly go get it. Once we’re done here, we’re going shopping.” They all laugh as Riku rushes off to the bedroom.

“Lift me onto the counter.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sora gives a fake salute before doing as asked. She spreads her legs in welcome and he slips into the space so they are again chest to chest. Her hands thread through his hair as they kiss again. Luckily, it only takes a minute for Riku to return because she’s already itching to tug Sora’s shirt away and press the metal piece to the thrum of his pulse.

Riku comes in close to Sora’s side to hand it over, and Kairi throws her arms around his neck to kiss him now. “Wow,” he laughs when she finally lets him breathe, “that grateful?”

“You have no idea.” She swats their chests. “Shirt. Off.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sora gives that silly salute again.

While they busy themselves undressing, she puts her stethoscope on, already feeling giddy just from the cool sensation from the metal end. She drops the piece, for now, to feel over the planes of their chests. “How do you want me?” Her cleavage is low-cut enough they can easily reach her heart and, with a bit of adjusting, expose her breasts without removing the dress.

“You’re keeping it on. No question, right, Riku?”

“Definitely. We’ll need these panties out of the way, though.” He plays with the top of them from under the short skirt.

Instead of attempting to get off the counter, she lifts her legs in an invitation for him to tug them down, which he manages with little effort before pulling her leg further to the side so he can also fit between her legs. It isn’t the flushed slotting she fantisized but it is its own pleasure having both her boys locked in her clutches. She tightens her leg-hold on them as best she can. Riku leans in to take over kissing her: first her lips, then cheek, and neck. Meanwhile, Sora maps out a course over the sheer fabric covering her back before coming up to cup her breasts.

She’s releasing little, soft moans at their attention but wants more. “Touch me, please.”

Sora pulls the fluffy top of the dress down to reveal her bare breasts. He takes one in hand, bringing his mouth down to the other. Riku grunts at the sight of her and picks up his own stethoscope so that he can press it to the spot of her heart. Her legs tighten unconsciously at this, knowing that he can hear the way her pulse quickens in response to him hearing her.

“What a pretty noise. Such anticipation,” he says in a husky tone that accelerates her pulse even further. Riku chuckles and fiddles with his zipper with his free hand. It poses a challenge that Kairi hastily takes care of so that she can slip her fingers around his stiffening erection. One hand stays there, running over the curved length of him, as the other mirrors his own to listen to the way each of her strokes affects him. Their eyes meet and looking into that seafoam gaze, Kairi anticipates Riku squeezing his free hand down between the three of them to finger her open before he does so. They both suck in a breath when his fingers first stretch her open, hearts synching up momentarily. As if sensing the synchronicity or magically in accord as well, Sora pauses his ministrations to look from one set of eyes to the next.

“Hold my stethoscope, will you?” she pleads. Letting both Riku and the instrument go, she makes short work of Sora’s pants and pulls him out as well. Taking each of them in hand, she sets to stroking them, tight and thoroughly, from base to tip. They both hiss out in pleasure as her fingers graze over each protruding vein and their sensitive slit.

Sora hesitates a moment before lifting her stethoscope. When he does, he rests it on his chest so that his own instrument can listen to Riku. His pulse is the same, a fast-paced thudding that takes her breath away. This isn’t the first time she’s been aware of just how in synch the three of them are, but that does not make it any less awe-inspiring. She squeezes down on Riku’s fingers wishing it were one of their cocks instead. The words must slip out, because the two boys are grinning wickedly at her. Their grins turn on each other and once again she knows exactly what is about to happen.

“I call dibs!” Sora shouts, all sexiness coming to a standstill.

“Nope, no way. You called dibs on the last piece of cake with dinner. You can’t call both dibs.”

“That was food, this is sex. It’s different.”

Riku gives him an exasperated look. “From where I’m standing, the fact you got the cake means I’m entitled to this.”

“Now, now, boys.” Kairi raises her hands in placation. “You know that we can also go another round right? Or again tomorrow if needed?”

“So? You won’t be wearing that outfit tomorrow.” Sora says.

“I mean, I can. Although, if you get it too dirty... ”

Sora bounces on the balls of his feet. “See? This is just too sexy.”

“Fine,” Riku says, “we’ll just have to settle this with rock, paper, scissors.”

Sora stares him straight in the eyes in challenge. “Fine.”

Kairi wants to be exasperated over this childishness, but all she can manage is a fond sigh. Her sigh turns a bit more exasperated when they nearly clock her in the face. “You could move back, you know?”

“Shucks!” Sora cries at the pitiful scissors he threw out to Riku’s rock.

Riku, for his part, is smirking something fierce. “Better luck next time.”

“Ooor,” Kairi starts, seeing the genuine disappointment s on Sora’s face, “we can move this to the table. Bend me over and all that.” She winks for good measure.

“Spoil him too much and he’ll make you wear this thing every day.”

She shrugs. “Wouldn’t be too bad.”

“Alright, fine,” Riku relents. “But to make this work, one of us needs to sit. You’re going to sit, since I’ll have the better angle standing.”

“Whatever,” Sora gripes, “let’s just get over there already.”

“Since we’re spoiling Sora and this was my brilliant plan, carry me? Pretty please?” Kairi bats her lashes enticingly.

Riku rolls his eyes but obliges. His arms are solid weights beneath her thighs, hands firm on her back. She clings to his shoulders even after he’s all-too gently laid her down on the cleared dining table. Part of her hates they became keyblade wielders since that stole them away from her for so long, but another part loves that it’s given them both the muscles to lift her like it’s no problem at all.

"K, Sora, get in the chair. Yeah, that's what I thought. Sorry, Kai, you're going to have to bend over like you said."

She shrugs. As nice as it is to lay down, the table isn't the most comfortable anyway. They reposition so that Sora is to the side at an angle so that Riku can reach her ass but Kairi can still move up and down in Sora's lap. As eager as he is, it is only due to Riku's foresight that Sora takes the time to actually remove his pants.

As soon as he's seated, Kairi sinks onto him with a shuddering sigh.

"Finally," Sora chokes out, causing the other two to snicker.

"Gotta make sure our boy here doesn't die of blue balls. Just make sure to go slow while I prep you."

"Of course," Kairi assures with a wink. This isn't their first rodeo.

Her shallow dips pause at the first touch of Riku's cool fingertips. He pushes in slower than probably necessary and she pushes back against his fingers, forcing two down to the knuckle. He makes a concerned noise that she easily shakes off. "Can't let you die of blue balls either."

He shakes his head fondly. "Why am I the only one with patience?"

"Cause you are the most boring," Sora goads.

"Oh really?" Riku reaches down with his free hand and pinches Sora's balls.

Sora gives a gasp, half pleasure, half pain. A second later he retaliates by latching onto his shoulder and biting a hickey.

That's apparently enough for Riku to continue with his fingering and Kairi resumes her movements, alternating between dropping down over Sora and rocking back into Riku's fingers. "I'm good," she says once Sora finishes his love-bite.

Despite his talk of patience, he wastes no time replacing his fingers with his cock. Not that she's complaining whatsoever. She drowns in the pleasure of being filled by both of them. She truly loves this, feeling and connecting with both simultaneously. But then she remembers her original goal. "The stethoscopes." Thankfully, neither of her boys comment on how desperate she sounds. Instead, Riku presses her stethoscope back to his chest.

Her whole body shakes. Badum. Badum. This is his essence, his life source. It's different when they are like this. It's like they are really one beating entity. Then Sora presses his stethoscope to her chest and she's completely euphoric. She knows her heartbeat is aligning with Riku's rhythm and that Sora will hear it and know. That Sora will hear the shift and shift along and hear Riku's in turn. They move together, to the point where their thrusts match each heartbeat as best as they can. One, two, three. One, two, three. It's like a dance; a dance of skin and soul. Her arms grasp at Riku's thigh and Sora's shoulder, holding them as close as possible. Riku kisses her back and Sora buries his face in her hair, so she knows they know as well.

“Love you, love you,” slips from her lips and Sora quickly swallows the words in a searing kiss. Her walls flutter around Riku in response, and as if in thanks, his fingers set to circling her clit. Her heart swells to burst, so overwhelmed by it all. She feels so full of their love. Then they cum, miraculously together, as if they really had converged into one being, heartbeats pumping uncontrollably, and that messy liquid filling her only perpetuates the notion that she’s filled with their love.

They all take long minutes to catch their breaths, kissing whatever bits of skin they are closest to.

“Best. Christmas. Present. Ever,” Sora says.

Riku snorts right against Kairi’s ear. “You’re welcome,” she says with a grin, shaking her hips for emphasis.

“It’s going to be hard to beat this tomorrow,” Riku says.

“True,” Sora waggles his eyebrows, “ but I’m sure we can think of a few things.”

“Well,” Riku says thoughtfully, “we do have another costume to pick out don’t we?”

Kairi perks up, twisting herself around so she can lay back on the table again. “I’m thinking catboy? Or maybe a butler?”

“Mm,” Riku hums suggestively, “Or a catboy butler.”

Sora gives a self-conscious laugh. “I mean if you think I can pull that off.”

“Well,” Kairi says pulling him up into her arms, “if you can’t, I’m sure we can pull it off.”

#my writing #sorikai #riku x sora x kairi #riku #sora #kairi #kh #kingdom hearts #fanfic #fanfiction

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leahsfavefics · 6 months

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All I Want for Christmas is Joon (Teaser)

Title: All I Want for Christmas is Joon

Banner: the incredible @kithtaehyung

Pairing: art historian!Namjoon x art historian!reader (f)

Rating/genre: m (18+) angst, fluff, smut, second chance au

Estimated WC: 20k - this teaser is 792 words!

Posting Date: Dec 21st

Summary: You have had a rough year following the mutual break up with your grad school sweetheart. On a whim, you book a spontaneous trip to Europe for the holidays to help get you out of the funk you’re in and assert your independence. It would be great, if it weren’t for the fact that you keep bumping into your ex boyfriend.

Part of the Jingle All the Way collab!

BEFORE:

Your fingers itched over your computer mouse, hesitating on the ‘click’ you so ardently wanted to make. Anxiety held you back.

“Just do it,” Melissa hollered from your kitchen. You smiled, impressed at how she sensed your hesitation somehow. Outside of your family, she’s one of only two people that could ever read you that well. Though you guess that now she’s the only person that can, since the other is your ex-boyfriend that you haven’t seen in over a year.

You took her encouragement with a grain of salt. She was always egging on whatever hair brained idea you had, ever since elementary school. This time, though, maybe she was right.

“It’s expensive. And I’d be all by myself. I’ve never traveled all by myself,” you whined in response.

“Bitch, it’s literally cheaper than it’s ever going to be,” she shot back, strolling into the living room and leaning against the couch where you sat. You couldn’t argue. The Travel Tuesday flight deals this year were insane. You’ve never seen a round trip flight to Europe be less than $500, and somehow the itinerary you’ve secured rang in at $386.00 round trip, taxes and fees included. It was probably a bulk fair with a million restrictions and you’d be fucked if you wanted to change it, but the flight left in 3 weeks. If you booked this, you were going no matter what.

“And traveling by yourself is not bad,” Melissa continued. “Obviously I’d rather be on a girls’ trip with you or on a trip with Taehyung, but it’s also really nice to not have to worry about anyone but yourself. Sure, there’s no one to take cute pictures of you unless you want to ask a stranger, but you can do whatever you want without consulting with anyone or taking their feelings into account. Craving sushi? Go get sushi! Want a nap? Go take a nap! Want to check out an obscure museum no one would be interested in but you? Do it! You only have yourself to worry about.”

You sighed. “You’re right, I know you’re right. But you’re so much more adventurous than I am.” Mel and her husband, Taehyung, were always going off and doing the wildest of things. Going on amazing trips around the world, skydiving, scuba diving, the list goes on. Whether they were a match made in heaven or hell, you weren’t sure- they rarely said no to each other’s schemes. They were happy though, and beyond in love, and that’s all you could ever want for your best friend.

“That’s not true.” Melissa said. “You’re adventurous, you’re just also nervous. Ever since…. You know what. You’ve been complaining that you want to get better at doing things on your own. This is your chance. And you’ve wanted to go to Norway for ages. You can’t achieve your dreams if you’re afraid to pull the trigger when the opportunity presents itself.” You winced, but it was the truth. The hard truth, but the truth nonetheless. And you trusted Melissa to give it to you straight when you needed it. Since the breakup with Namjoon over a year ago, you’d been wallowing. The two of you did everything together, attached at the hip since you met in your grad school apartment building the weekend you both moved in. You’d made it all through college, moving in together the second year of school into a nice apartment off campus that you still occupied. The study abroad semester Namjoon spent in Paris had been tough, especially because you’d only had enough time and money for one brief visit, but it wasn’t until college was over that things fell apart. Art History is a tough field to get a job in. You were both insanely lucky to land jobs fresh out of college. Grades and letters of recommendation helped, but still. It was unfortunate that they were across the country. You’d barely made it through one bout of long distance. You thought it better to end things rather than face that again, and with no end date in sight.

“You’re right. I know how to travel. Namjoon and I took a few trips together. And you and I have gone on trips together. I need to learn how to be comfortable doing things on my own. I’m 25 years old. I can’t wait around forever.” You nodded as you spoke, convincing yourself. Taking a shaking breath, you squeezed your eyes shut and made that final click.

Melissa squealed in excitement and pulled you in for a constricting hug that pulled a laugh from you despite your nerves about your newly booked solo adventure. “I’m so proud of you! And excited! You’re going to fucking Norway!!”

#bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic #bts fanfiction #namjoon fanfiction #namjoon x reader #namjoon au

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peachybun-bun · 3 years

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Perfect Timing [pt 2]

pairing; Mark Lee x f reader

genre; fluff, comedy, friends to lovers, smut

notes/warnings; there is mention of eating and drinking alcohol, Dreamies mentioned as roomies, unprotected sex, a bet is made that has sexual favors included but is consensual, mark is turned on by the idea of on by the idea of exhibitionism

work count; 2.7k and some change (if you care about this)

PART 1

Pulling up outside of the address Mark had texted you, you raise a brow to the view and shake your head. You knew they had moved into something nicer, but you just didn’t realize how much nicer. You made your way to the front door and rang the bell, only to have to wait for a moment, before the door opened to someone you hadn’t seen for as long as Mark. “Jisung!”

The younger male laughs as you pull him into a hug, rather he pulls you in. “Oh my god...you are a freaking giant! I remember when you were as tall as me and now... “ You look up at him as he grins at you.

“Growth spurt a year or so ago.”

Nodding, you walk past him as he lets you go and opens the door for you. “Well, girls everywhere are in danger of broken hearts. Holy shit, it’s good to see you.”

Jisung grins, and rubs the back of his neck with a nod, “You too. Mark said you were coming over, but he isn’t back yet. Grabbing take out I think, but come in make yourself at home. It’s just me right now…”

You nod and head into the living area looking around at the house as you go. “Well to be fair, that’s perfect company. This place is great, I’m surprised…”

Jisung laughs and looks around with a shrug. “I’ll be honest, Chenle pays for most of it, but I’m not complaining.”

Ah, now the size of the house made much more sense. “How is everyone? It’s been forever since I’ve seen you all in the same place. I ran into Renjun at the Starbucks down the road a month or so ago, but otherwise...it’s been forever.”

Plopping down on the couch by jumping over the back, Jisung purses his lips and picks up his game controller with a smile. “It’s been a long time, yeah...everyone’s good. Jaemin and Haechan have girlfriends now. Jeno is annoying everyone, because he’s been out of the dating scene for too long. Renjun and Chenle have been staying busy with work, and well you’ve seen Mark. I’m good of course...enjoying a little time off, just hanging out at home.”

You smile, watching Jisung play his game. You too sit down, but go about it the normal way, walking around the couch to find a place to sit.

“That’s good. Haechan with a girlfriend is a phrase I wasn’t ready for. I’m happy for him and Jaemin. That's been going on a long time?”

Jisung shakes his head, but then shrugs. “Jaemin, no...a few weeks. Haechan for a couple months, it’s this girl who rooms with us. Well, I guess she’s less of a roommate now? I don’t know, it's still weird.”

You laugh and shake your head. Their lives were complicated, and now you were wondering if you were just going to further complicate them. You glance towards the front door when you hear it open and the sounds of crinkling.

Mark’s face lights up when he sees you sitting on the couch. “Hey! I was hoping I’d be back before you.” He moves to stand behind the couch, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips that makes you blush slightly, as Jisung laughs a bit and rolls his eyes.

Slightly surprised Mark had decided to show you that much affection after just one night, you follow him with your eyes as he drops off the bags in the kitchen. “Y/N...come here for a second.”

Ruffling Jisung’s hair, you smile and head into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as Mark gives you a good once over. He brings you into his arms, pressing his lips to yours once again. “Mmm, it’s good to see you.”

Laughing, you push him back and gesture back to the couch and Jisung. “Not in front of the kiddo.”

Mark shakes his head and takes a step back, starting to set out the various containers, a smirk on his lips. “He’s been dating you know, so not as much of a kiddo as you remember.”

You look back at Jisung, shocked, but nod pleased. “Good for him. He’s a good guy. I hope he finds someone that treats him well...or I might have to have you bail me out of jail. Are you good with that?”

Mark laughs and nods, “I’ll be in there with you, so maybe we can get one of the other guys to do the bailing.”

Smiling, you sit up on the stool as Mark slides a box towards you for you to open, as he takes a box into the living room and leaves it with Jisung, who takes it. Mark is a great guy, you had always seen him taking care of his friends and others in general. He could be petty or selfish when he wanted to be, but for the most part, this is the Mark you knew.

He smiles, seeing you smile, and tilts his head as he sits beside you at the counter. “What’s the smile about?” He reaches up to push your hair behind your ear, before opening his own containers, picking up chopsticks.

“Nothing...just amazed you haven’t changed a bit.”

He grins, taking a bite of his food with a shrug. “What you see is what you get, baby.”

You laugh and nod pursing your lips. “That so? This is the same guy who stole my clothes and kept them hostage?”

He chokes on a piece of rice, taking a drink of some water and looking at you with wide eyes, before smirking. “You’ll get them back, maybe. You might need to have some clothes here. Would that be so bad?”

Shaking your head, you take a bite of your own food and roll your eyes, as Mark rests his hand on your leg. He squeezes lightly with a wink, before diving back into his food, carrying on the conversation.

Soon, the food is finished and cleaned up. You both were surprised to hear Jisung clear his throat and enter the kitchen, “Not that it’s going to bother you, but I’m headed out for a while. I’m gonna go bowling with my friend.”

“Your friend? Your girlfriend? Mark told me you are dating? What’s her name? Is she pretty?”

Jisung groans at your questions, and shoots Mark a look, before waving. “I’ll see you later, if you are still here. Bye!”

Laughing, Mark shakes his head at you as Jisung walks away. “You are just as bad as Jaemin. He wants all the details and babies him relentlessly.”

You shrug and smile as Mark wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Jaemin has a point, he’s still young...I met him when he hadn’t even hit puberty yet. It’s strange to see him tall, a low voice, and dating.”

Mark laughs and shrugs, before moving to take your hand, leading you out of the kitchen and down the hall. “I get it, I just give him some space. I’m happy for him. He’s a man, and men have needs.”

You widen your eyes, raising your brows with an exaggerated gasp, “Men have needs? Wow, Mark Lee…”

“What? It’s true...I mean women have needs too. Don’t look at me like that.” He laughs, and you can’t help but do the same as he leads you into a room with a few different gaming tables. A pool table sits in one corner, a small foosball table, and finally in the other corner, table tennis.

“You all are living your best frat dream in this house...good god. Do you have a keg stashed somewhere?”

Mark laughs again and rolls his eyes. “No...but we do have a mini fridge, and there is beer if you want some.”

You shake your head but smile, “No thanks. You seriously have a gaming room?”

Mark moves to get a beer and shrugs, “It used to be Haechan’s room, a master bedroom I guess in the house plans, but he moved into his girl’s room, so we made it into this. He bitched for a week. Said we were treating him like a kid leaving for college, replacing his shit with workout equipment. He spends just as much time here, and it’s payback for him picking the largest room in the house to begin with.”

You laugh, imagining that scenario with Haechan, and it wasn’t hard. He was a big brat, and if you were honest, he was a lot to handle. You felt for the sanity of his girlfriend.

Mark takes a drink of his beer and sits it down, picking up the paddles from on top of the table. He hands you one, which causes you to raise a brow. “You know I’m better at this than you.”

He laughs and points his paddle at you. “Maybe not anymore. Want to make things interesting?”

Raising a brow, you turn the paddle in your hand, moving to one side as you raise a brow. “How interesting?”

Mark smirks and leans his hands on the table, looking at you. “If I win, I get to lean you over the table and have my way with you, and you bring clothes over the next time to keep here.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “And if I win?”

Mark gestures to you, “Your choice.”

You purse your lips thinking, “If I win, you have to give me a lapdance and leave a toothbrush at my apartment.”

Mark’s cheeks flush a bit and laughs, poking his tongue into his cheek, but nods. “Alright, deal. First to five.” Standing up straight, he offers his hand to shake, which you take and give him a firm handshake, winking. There was no way you were losing. He was awful at table tennis, always had been.

When had Mark gotten so good at table tennis? You had scored first, confidence shining through your smile, but then he quickly gained 3 on your score. “Fuck…” Muttering to yourself, you stretch your neck and get ready, only to have Mark score on you again. “Mark...you are cheating. That wasn’t regulation.”

Mark laughs and throws the paddle up into the air, catching it with a smirk. “Don’t be such a baby about losing.”

“I haven’t lost yet.” But then, with another round you had.

Mark smirks and reaches out for your paddle, which you give over with a dramatic sigh. He grins putting the paddles to the side, before moving to slide his hands along your hips, swaying them along with his. “So, I think you need at least a week’s worth of clothes here at any time, in case of emergencies.”

You roll your eyes, and lean your head back with a sigh, that fades into a laugh.

Mark takes advantage of your lead being leaned back, moving to press his lips to your neck, causing you to gasp into a small moan as he hits just the right spot to send a shiver through you. He smirks on your skin, feeling the shiver, before pulling back to look at you, his hands already lifting your shirt up towards your ribs.

“Really? Here? What if someone comes home?”

Smirking at your words, Mark wiggles his brows and glances behind him at the open door with a shrug, before pushing your shirt up further. “I won. You agreed, and everyone is out, but...if they were to come home, that just makes it a bit more exciting, don’t you think?”

You sigh softly, narrowing your eyes playfully as your shirt slips off your arms and onto the floor, before Mark does the same with his shirt. “I don’t think I’d want Jisung to see me being fucked against the tennis table…”

Mark laughs and shrugs at your statement, before working your jeans down to your feet, leaving you in your bra and panties. Taking a step back, he looks at you appreciatively with a slight whistle, causing you to laugh and throw one of the ping pong balls at him.

Laughing, Mark dodges it and discards his own jeans and boxers, before moving back to you. He wasn’t completely hard yet, but he was close. You can’t help but moan as he turns your back to his chest, you can feel his cock get harder as it rests against your ass, his fingers sliding up your stomach over your breasts. He teases your nipples through the fabric, as his lips press to your neck softly.

“Mark…” You moan softly, causing him to tightly close his eyes, holding back a groan.

He loved the sound of his name on your lips. Moving his hands back, he unclasps your bra and lets you take it the rest of the way off, before sliding your panties down and off to the floor.

You glance over your shoulder at him as he presses a kiss to your shoulder, and then leans you over the table. You shudder slightly, feeling his hand slide between your legs over your folds, before you then feel his hand replaced by the head of his cock.

Mark bites his lip, looking down at you leaned over the table, a groan falling off his lips as he shifts his hips forward and slips into you fully with a single thrust.

Both of his hands gripping your ass, you moan as he begins to thrust into you, causing the table to shift with each movement.You can’t help but to keep your hands attached to the table, wondering how much he had actually thought this through, but he felt so fucking good inside of you.

Fingers digging into your soft flesh, Mark tilts his head and pulls out almost completely, before thrusting back in hard, causing you to cry out in a loud moan. Fuck, you were so tight around him. He already felt like he was close, but he didn’t want to be that guy. Sucking hard on his lip, he slides his arm around you and pulls you up off the table and back against him. He lifts you slightly as he takes a step back, falling to sit on a recliner with a hard thrust up into you.

“Oh my god! Mark...some warning.”

He laughs against your shoulder, sucking a mark on your skin, before muttering, “Sorry...the table was moving too much. I didn’t want you to fall.”

You whine and hold on to the arms of the chair, using them for stability as Mark moves to hold your waist, thrusting up into you. You were close and he knew it, he was hitting you so deep, his lips pressed to your spine now.

“I’m gonna cum, Y/N…”

You nod and whine as a response, as your legs try to press close, but Mark’s legs are in your way as you straddle his lap backwards.

Gasping loudly, you feel the wave of your orgasm hit you, and Mark groans your name as he feels you cum over his cock. It pushes him over the edge, causing him to pull out of you quickly and cum up messily onto your thighs. It drips down as you sit down, feeling his cock beginning to soften against your legs.

Soft kisses pressed to your back, you smile and turn in Mark’s lap to face him, careful not to hurt him. Knowing how sensitive you were, he had to feel it as well. Your lips press to his, causing him to smile, his hands sliding along your back.

“Mm, I think we could both use a shower now.”

You laugh and nod, nudging his nose with yours.

He was good with the two of you just sitting there for a few minutes longer, until he heard the sound of the front door unlocking, and Chenle and Renjun talking. Lifting you as he stands, you gasp, wrapping your legs around him as he moves to the ensuite bathroom and kicks the door shut, causing you to laugh.

“It was exciting to think about it while I was fucking you, not while we are sitting there cuddling naked. That’s me and you time.”

You smile at his words as he sits you on the counter and turns on the shower. “Mark...it’s all me and you time, you dork…”

He laughs and winks at you with a shrug. “I know that, but still…”

You shake your head, and lean back against the mirror, as he goes back to his task.

546 notes · View notes

dhwty-writes · 3 years

Text

The Terribly Sad and Tragic Affair that Is the Fake Funeral of Shadowhand Essek Thelyss

Apparently, I am not only drawing for the Critical Role fandom, but writing for it, too. After months of nearly no progress I just vomited out 3k words this Tuesday and it only went downhill from there.

This fic is based on this post by @anne-o-nyme, I really hope I managed to capture the energy of it.

Have fun!

Summary: There were eight strangers in the foyer of his dead brother's towers and Verin Thelyss was slowly losing his patience.

After the sudden "death" of Shadowhand Essek Thelyss, it is his brother Verin's job to empty out his towers. The Mighty Nein show up to help (and maybe steal a few things).

OR: Verin is grieving, Essek just wants his stuff back, and the Mighty Nein are the Mighty Nein.

Warnings: I didn't tag this with MCD, because Essek is technically alive and kicking. Since Verin doesn't know that though, and this fic is written from his POV, this is dealing with grief and includes depictions of depressive thoughts as well as anxiety attacks. For more explicit warnings, please mind the tags on AO3. Take care of yourselves, and let me know if I forgot anything.

Read on AO3

There were eight strangers in the foyer of his dead brother's towers and Verin Thelyss was slowly losing his patience. "Listen," he said with what little calm he had left, "I know that by returning one of our beacons you became heroes of the Dynasty and were placed under Es— My bro— his stewardship. But this here—" he gestured vaguely at the interior of Essek's towers that had always been too cold, too empty, but not like now, never like now— "This is a very difficult situation for me, so if you could please leave, that would be greatly appreciated."

"Yes, yes, it's very sad that Essek died," the blue tiefling said—Jester, her name was Jester; she had given him that already as she had offered him her condolences with a hug—and Verin could barely contain his anger. After the funeral he had quite enough of lying dignitaries, nobles, and heroes currying favours with him. That had always been Essek's thing, he would know what to do, how to make them regret even daring to speak up; Verin had never been any good at it.

"But we're his friends!" He grit his teeth at Jester's blatant falsehood. Perhaps his anger showed on his face, since the tiefling faltered. "And, uh— Fjord?"

"It's true," the half-orc with too-smooth words and too-smooth voice lied, too. "We spent quite some time with your, er— your brother here. Made some good memories. We thought we might take this as our chance to say goodbye, too."

"We are here to help as well. We wouldn't want to infringe upon your grief, though," the tall firbolg added. "So, if you'd prefer us to return at a later point, we'd be happy to."

Verin was still trying to process everything—from these strangers showing up unannounced to their overwhelming presence to the fact that his brother was dead—while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the halfling who looked like she might have sticky fingers. So, he latched onto the word that stood out the most to him: "Help?"

"Right," Fjord said, looking slightly embarrassed, "we probably should have led with that..."

"We should have called ahead, too," the scary-looking human in blue—they didn't even wear white for the funeral—added. "We always forget to call ahead."

"But Beau, how should we have called ahead?" Jester complained. "We didn't know Verin yet."

"Well, Essek—" the human was interrupted by the even scarier-looking woman next to her stepping on her foot unsubtly. She at least had the decency to act embarrassed. "Right. Sorry 'bout that."

Awkward silence fell across the room, the Mighty Nein looking anywhere but him. It took him a few moments to realise they were waiting for him to speak up. "Help how?" Verin could have kicked himself. By the Light, he could do better than that. He had to do better than that.

A beat of silence followed, then everyone seemed to talk at once. Verin wanted to weep. How was he supposed to deal with this? How had his brother dealt with this? 'He probably hasn't,' he thought. 'They're probably all liars, probably—'

Someone cleared their throat and all eyes turned to the other human who hadn't said anything so far and who looked properly miserable. Immediately, the Mighty Nein fell silent. "Word has reached us that Den Thelyss ordered these premises to be vacated as early as possible," he said quietly with an accent Verin has been taught that belonged to the enemy. "And while some of us may not look like much, I can assure you, we are quite capable."

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "I supposed such menial tasks are beneath the heroes of the dynasty. There are servants—"

"Well, sure," the halfling with the probably sticky fingers interrupted, "but we know him. Knew him, I mean; sorry, force of habit."

"Besides, there's a lot of stuff," the lavender tiefling, who Verin was pretty sure was a known pirate, piped up. "Looks like you could use the help."

"If you want to, of course," the sad Empire human added.

Verin only wanted to scream, to give room to the torrent of thoughts raging in his head. 'My brother just died. My brother just died and he wasn't consecuted, so he's gone for good. He's gone for good and I didn't even know him; I didn't even know about these supposed friends he had because he didn't allow me near him in decades. I was a horrible brother and so was he, but I can't even be mad at him because he's dead.

'And now these liars show up and talk about friendship and knowing him, but those are all lies, horrible ones, because Essek had no friends. Essek was cold and cruel and lonely and do you even know how horrible that is? Dying alone with no-one who mourns you, just the favours you still owe them? Do you? I don't even know, and I'm his brother.'

Were he a weaker man, a less disciplined one, he might have said so. But he was Taskhand Verin of Den Thelyss and he had learned discipline before he had learned to talk. So, he said: "Your help would be greatly appreciated, thank you. I'll have the servants bring up some tea. There are, uh—" He straightened his back, summoning the composure that was befitting a Taskhand, even one with a dead brother. "There are boxes up there, they've been brought to the rooms already. Anything of value will be sold; the rest will be given to charity. The things— Well, if you find anything that might have sentimental value, something in his handwriting, perhaps, I think I should like to keep that, please."

The firbolg nodded sagely. "Of course. We will be careful with our selection."

With that, Verin turned around and— froze. Where was he even supposed to start? The towers had always seemed to huge for just Essek and he knew that there were very few personal belongings in them. Still, they would have to be scoured clean within the fortnight.

A large hand on his shoulder made him jump, although he'd never admit it. "Sometimes, when a task seems too large, you should start with the smallest part," the firbolg said. "If I were you, I'd start with the smallest room."

"Thank you, that, uh— that seems like good advice," Verin replied, still a bit startled and confused. "I, er— I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

"Caduceus Clay. I live in a graveyard, so I'm used to this," Clay said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Verin furrowed his brows slightly. A graveyard? It seemed highly unlikely to him that one of the heroes of the Dynasty would live in a graveyard of all places. Perhaps they were not only liars, but impostors too? But they had the symbols of the Bright Queen, so there wasn't much that he could say.

"Right," he mumbled. "I believe the smallest room would be the closet. Although it might be tied with the bathroom..." He trailed off again. He had never seen Essek's bedroom in his towers. Judging by how many times he had even seen the inside of the building; he could count himself lucky if he even found the way there.

"Why don't we split up?" Clay suggested. "One group takes the closet, one the bathroom and one the bedroom. We'd get done sooner that way."

"That is a great idea, Caduceus," Jester said excitedly. "I'll take the bathroom; I promised— er, I'm curious if I can find more of that hair oil, I got for Fjord that one time!"

"Ohhh, are you saying this is... an investigation?!" the halfling joined in.

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Veth!"

"Seems like a case for Wildemount's best detectives!"

"Bye, Verin!" Jester called and he blinked and they were gone. Fjord joined them as well, muttering something about having to supervise them.

The purple pirate-tiefling shrugged, heading off in the same direction. "Well, I wouldn't mind rifling through some drawers. I'll have a look at that bedroom."

"Yeah, I don't need to see Essek's underwear, so I'll pass on the closet," Beau added tactfully—Verin was getting the sneaking suspicion that manners were not really her strong suit. She linked hands with the large woman at her side, pulling her along. "Come on, Yash."

"I'll go handle the tea," Clay said. "Don't worry about it." He vanished in the direction of the kitchen, his steps accompanied by the constant tap tap tap of his staff.

When Verin looked around, he realised that only the sad Empire human was left with him in the hallway. "If you wouldn't mind," he said, pointedly avoiding eye-contact, "I would love to have a look at the closet. I always, ah— appreciated your brother's sense of fashion."

Verin blinked at him a few times, then shrugged. "Sure." He began heading up the stairs.

"My condolences," the human continued. "I realise I didn't speak up earlier, but— I am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," he said, letting the same numb feeling wash over him again that he had embraced since the news of Essek's death had reached him.

"I know that we seem like a bunch of, ah— forgive my language, but assholes, but we're really here to help. I will tell the others to tone it down a bit."

"Thank you," he repeated.

"If you'd prefer that we start in, ah— less personal rooms, we can do that also."

"If I'm perfectly honest, I don't even know what I should be doing there."

"Neither am I." The human laughed nervously. "I have dealt with grief before, but I've never had the, ah— how do you call it? Hang on." He pulled out a copper wire and whispered: "Beau, how do you say zweifelhafte Ehre in Common? You can reply to this message." A moment later he straightened. "Right. I never had the dubious honour of emptying out a deceased person's house before."

"Neither did I," Verin admitted. 'Usually, the deceased person comes back,' he didn't say. Instead, he opted for: "You're, er— What's the word in Common? You're weird? I'm sorry if that's insulting, I just— waele xanalressen [stupid languages]."

"I don't understand your words, but I think I understand the sentiment." The man grimaced. "And I've heard that one before. I hope we're not too much of a... too much."

"It's alright," he lied and opened the door to Essek's bedroom.

It wasn't alright; Verin wanted to weep again.

The door to the bathroom stood ajar, as did several drawers and cabinets, although he couldn't glance inside. Considering that he heard glass shatter and a quiet "oops" followed by a hushed "Jester!" he was rather glad about that. Besides, what he saw was already quite enough to handle. Beau was currently rifling through Essek's nightstand, the tall woman tossing unread books on the bed carelessly, while the lavender tiefling seemed to make his way through his brother's collections of make-up and jewellery alike.

They froze when they spotted him and the sad human in the door. "Heeey, Verin," Beau drawled.

"These were all still closed, I swear," the lavender tiefling said immediately, gesturing at the jars in front of them.

Verin just sighed in defeat. "I don't wear any make-up, I don't care; you can have it. Put the jewellery in the box to be sold; the books are for charity if he hasn't read them. Just leave the earrings in front of the mirror, please. Those were his favourites."

Without another glance at them, Verin headed straight to Essek's closet, desperate to get some quiet. He took a few moments to collect himself, before closing the door and leaning his head against it with a heavy thunk.

He stayed like that for a minute or maybe two until he heard someone clear their throat. "I have been debating for the past fifty-five seconds, if I should just Dimension Door out," the sad human said and Verin very nearly jumped out of his skin, "but that would be loud and I didn't want to startle you. Not that I didn't startle you like this but—"

"Vithin shu," Verin cursed.

"Vithin shu ke," the sad human agreed, his accent in Undercommon even heavier than normally.

For a moment, they both stared at each other, equally startled by the course of events. Then, the human looked away again. "I, ah— have started learning Undercommon before, um— well, before." Verin tried very hard to focus on the way the human was scratching at his forearms; that way he had something else to focus on besides his nearing breakdown.

"This is a bit embarrassing, but, ah— I believe I forgot to introduce myself," the human continued. "I'm Caleb Widogast. Essek and I were... friends, yes, and ah— colleagues, of some sort. It's... complicated."

He scratched at his arms again before turning towards the shelves and pulling out a stack of tunics. He unfolded one, looked at it, then carefully folded it again, cast a cantrip to smooth out the wrinkles, and put it in the charity box. Then he repeated the procedure with the next. And the next. And the next.

Verin frowned, thinking for a moment about his words. There was something about them that seemed painfully familiar, although he couldn't quite remember. Then: "The transmutation specialist."

Widogast looked up in surprise. "Yes."

"Essek told me of you," Verin admitted.

The last time they had seen each other had been here, in these towers, just a few months ago. He had found his brother in his office, pouring over notes for a new spell, alive and healthy as ever. As always, he had entered without knocking. As always, he had pretended to read the notes. Not as always, he had noticed something wrong. "Whose handwriting is that?" he had asked.

"What?" Essek had snapped, his head whipping up. Then, however, his expression had softened. "Oh. A friend's. A colleague, of sorts. He's helping me out, a bit."

"With the spell?" Verin had asked incredulously.

"Yes. He's a transmutation specialist; you know that's not my forte. Now give it back, will you?"

"A colleague, huh?" He had grinned and held the paper out of Essek's reach. "Are you sure that's all?"

Perhaps Essek had been sick after all, for the strangest thing had happened: instead of using his floating cantrip to snatch the notes back, he had gotten a dreamy, far-off look in his eyes. He had even smiled with an expression Verin might have called dopey, if it weren't his brother they were talking about. After a few moments, he had snapped out of it, sighed, and said: "It's complicated."

"Did he?" Widogast asked tentatively. "Did he, ah— did he say anything else about me?"

Verin pinned him down with a glare, sizing him up. In hindsight, he should have noticed the thick spellbook at his hip earlier; judging by his slim frame alone, he should have known the man was a wizard. He supposed Widogast was handsome enough, although his brother had never cared much for that, with his copper hair and his striking blue eyes. Blue eyes around which crows' feet were gathering, as he noticed to his dismay. 'He's human,' Verin reminded himself. He might have a few decades left, maybe, whereas Essek had centuries ahead of him. The thought why his brother might condemn himself to more loneliness crossed his mind, though it hardly mattered. His brother had been the first to die, after all.

"Verin?" Widogast inquired quietly.

"I'm sorry," he answered with a thick voice. "I got lost in my thoughts there. He, uhh— he said that he trusted you." That didn't even begin to cover it, but these Mighty Nein had been lying to him since the moment they got here, so what was a little lie by omission? Besides, there were some memories that he wanted to keep just to himself.

"Essek," he had teased, still waving the sheet of paper out his reach. "Come on! Aren't we brothers?"

Essek had crossed his arms and pouted. He hadn't done that since they were both little. "Unfortunately. You are a menace. And a child."

"If you tell me about him, I'll give it back. Is he handsome? Is he a drow? Where's he from? How did you meet? When will I meet him? Can I promise to kill him if he hurts you?"

"Verin!" Essek had groaned and hid his face in his hands.

"What do you do when you meet? I bet you stay up all night, talking about 'arcane research' or something."

"We do, in fact. Are you done now?"

"Oh, is that what young people call it these days?" He had cackled at his own joke.

"Evidently not," Essek had muttered. "Might I remind you that you're younger than me?"

"Might I remind you that you're a buzzkill?" Verin had shot back and placed the note down. He had gotten bored of his own game.

Essek had taken the sheet of paper almost reverently and thanked him. "I would have hated it to rewrite that page." He had smoothed it down, stored it safely away in a folder, silent for a long time. Then, he had said: "Caleb."

"Excuse me?"

"That's his name," Essek had said. "Caleb Widogast."

Verin had frowned. "Hey, Essek?"

"Hm?"

"You must trust him a lot, to share a spell with him."

His brother had taken a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. Verin hadn't expected him to answer, yet he'd said: "I do, actually. It's not the first spell we've created together and I would be honoured to create a thousand more with him. I'd trust him with my life, my death, and beyond. I think—" He'd huffed. "I think I trust him almost as much as I trust you."

Verin watched Widogast as he was looking through his brother's tunics, placing most of them in the charity box, and he wondered. Wondered if the trust Essek had obviously put in Widogast had been misplaced. Wondered if it had extended to his friends, as well. Wondered if ultimately trust had been his downfall, as he'd always feared.

Then again, if Essek had trusted him... perhaps that trust had been mutual. Perhaps they had been friends. Perhaps there was another person mourning his brother after all.

"Do I have something on my face?" Verin had given up on counting how many times Widogast had now startled him out of his thoughts.

"No, no I—," Verin stammered. "I'm sorry."

He tilted his head to the side. "For staring?"

"No, er— For your loss." Liar or no liar, it only seemed appropriate.

"Oh." Widogast turned back to the tunics. Verin probably should get started, too, shouldn't he? "Thank you. Though I'd wager your loss weighs heavier than mine."

"Probably," he agreed and turned to the task at hand. At this point, Widogast had moved on from the simple tunics to Essek's court regalia. After a short moment of consideration, Verin decided to look through the pants; he also had no interest in sorting through his dead brother's underwear.

Out of the corner of his eye he kept watching the wizard, pulling out one cloak after the other. At a few he wrinkled his nose, at others he just stared before putting them with the tunics. After a while one made him pause; an elaborate, beautiful robe in deep purple. "This is what he was wearing when we first met him," he said.

'He hated that one,' Verin thought. Not that he could say that out loud. Instead, he cocked his head and asked: "Are you sure? He has a lot of those. Had, I mean. Had a lot of those."

"Yeah, I'm sure." He tapped his temple with a faint smile. "I have a good memory."

"As does Essek," he snapped, suddenly feeling very defensive about his brother's capabilities. "I suppose most wizards do."

Infuriatingly, Widogast only nodded. "Indeed. Or they're not very good ones."

Silently, Verin turned back to the trousers. The sooner he got done, the sooner he got these people out of his brother's towers, the better. He didn't know for how long they worked in silence, Verin reminiscing about the times he had seen Essek wear the clothes and wondering about those he didn't know. Eventually, he folded the last of them and forced himself to return to the present. "I think we're done here," he announced. "Do you have a preference for a next room?"

"Perhaps the library?" Widogast offered a tentative smile. "I think I might be of more use there than folding clothes."

"More use than I will be, surely."

"I take it the wizardry doesn't run in the family, then?"

Verin only scoffed and opened the door to the bedroom again.

He immediately spotted Beau leafing through one of the books Essek had never read, while the tiefling was chatting amiably with the aasimar while braiding her hair. He also noted the boxes neatly stacked in the middle of the room. Besides that, he noticed with a heavy heart, the room looked much the same. If anything, it looked less orderly and empty than before. Except for—

"Where are Essek's earrings?" Verin demanded to know.

"What earrings?" the lavender tiefling replied with a too-wide grin the same moment Beau said: "Dude, there's tons of them, why don't—"

"No," he said decisively. "Essek's favourite earrings; they're always up here. I told you about them. Where are they?" His hands curled into fists, his neatly manicured fingernails pressing almost painfully into his skin.

"Perhaps you should look in one of the boxes," the aasimar woman suggested "I'm sure they're—"

"You're lying," Verin interrupted her, barely containing his anger. "Why are you lying? If they're in one of the boxes, then only because you put them there. So: where are they?"

Widogast only now stepped out of the closet, wearing an amber necklace he hadn't noticed before. "Verin—" he said tentatively, but he'd had enough.

"Shut up!" He startled himself with how loud his voice was. But he was beyond caring. "I know they're not in there, because the only ones to put them in there would have been you. So, either you're lying about having them put in there, or you're lying about stealing them, I don't care. Just— please. Please give them back."

The four of them passed a guilty glance. "We can't," Beau replied finally.

"The fuck you can't," Verin spat. "Give them back!"

"Verin, love, we would really love to," the tiefling added, "but we can't."

"I don't understand; is it precious things you want? Here, have some!" He strode over to the boxes and ripped the first open, tossing the lid towards the bathroom door Jester was peeking out of. He reached in to grab a necklace—an ugly one, he had always thought, with a stylised beacon—and threw it in their direction.

Beau caught it. Of course.

"Have a whole box, actually, if you like them so damn much." He reached inside and pulled out a jewellery box, tears prickling in his eyes. He threw one of those, too, just for good measure. It gave him some satisfaction that Widogast had to dodge it. "Just give me back the bloody earrings that my brother wore at my fucking consecution!" He was properly crying now and could only imagine the mess he looked like, but he had reached his limit. And, in his opinion, he was allowed to with all that was going on.

At least they looked a little bit guilty. "Fuck man, we didn't know," Beau mumbled.

"It's just one pair, Beau," Jester called over from the bathroom. "I'm sure it will be alright."

"Yes, there's no need for this to escalate," Fjord agreed and strode over to them, his hands raised innocently.

"I don't even know you people," Verin muttered, looking at the people crowding into his brother's bedroom. "Why did I even let you inside?"

"Do you want the earrings back?" the aasimar woman asked, reaching into a bag at her hip. Had she been carrying a greatsword for the whole time? Verin suddenly noticed how overpowered he was, were he to face all of them. "You can have them back if you want. Here, you can have them back."

"For a moment," Widogast added, slowly drawing closer to him and taking the earrings from the aasimar. He held them out on his flat hand, almost like he had seen soldiers offer treats to horses. His whole demeanour reminded him of someone trying to calm a spooked animal. For some reason, that seemed hilarious to him and he couldn't help the hysterical giggle that escaped his throat.

"Verin, I need you to calm down," he continued. "I know that's easier said than done, but you need your head."

"I think we should all calm down," Clay said from the doorway. And despite being surprised again, he did. It didn't make any sense, but few things these days did.

"Did it work?" the halfling asked. Verin wasn't really sure what she was talking about.

"It did," Clay confirmed.

"Gut," Widogast said and pressed the earrings that had seemed so important a moment ago into Verin's hands. "I think we should maybe go somewhere else, ja? Will you come with me?"

Inadvisable as it might be, if Essek had trusted that man, he should, too. And out of all of the Nein, he seemed to be the most normal one. The one he could see Essek with most. So, he nodded.

"I'll get us back to the kitchen, quickly." Caleb held out his hand and Verin closed his eyes, steeling himself. 'I hate Dimension Door,' was the last thing that crossed his mind before the teleportation spell ripped him away, together with: 'We haven't been to the kitchen, yet.'

Evidently, there went something wrong with the spell. Verin didn't know much about magic, but he knew Dimension Door couldn't transport more than two people. So, when he heard Beau groan and say "Fuck, dude, warn us next time," he knew that something wasn't right.

"You knew about the plan, Beauregard," Widogast replied.

"It doesn't matter," Fjord decided. "Caduceus, do you think you could make tea again? I think the Calm Emotions is about to wear off."

Cautiously, Verin opened one eye, then the other. They were, in fact, standing in a kitchen, as far as he could tell. All of the Mighty Nein were surrounding him. The furniture seemed to have been made for people taller than them; Essek probably would need to float in order to avoid awkwardly climbing onto the chair. The firbolg, however, who was fussing with a teapot, seemed to fit right in. All in all, the interior was very rustic. And very much not in Essek's towers, not that he had ever seen that room, of course.

The panic hit him once more. Verin whirled around to the wizard, instinctively grasping for his sword. "Where the fuck—" he faltered, finding his hip bare. Of course, he hadn't brought it for the funeral. Instead, he opted for just grasping Widogast by the lapels and lifting him up a bit. It was supposed to be menacing, which surely would be more effective, were humans not so annoyingly tall. "Where the fuck are we?!" he spat out.

A lot of things seemed to happen at once—he heard a "Fuck, man, what-" from Beau, a "Well, Mister Thelyss" from the pirate, several hands trying to tug him away from the weak wizard—but he didn't pay them any mind. He just shook Widogast, who looked entirely too calm for his liking, and demanded: "Answer me!"

"Leave him," was all Widogast said. "He has every right to be angry."

Indeed, the people grasping at him retreated, still on guard and surrounding him. There was a creak outside the door and Verin desperately wished for his sword once more. Then, a voice cut through the tense silence that had descended over the kitchen: "Caleb, is that you? You're back early."

"Yeah, there were some complications. Best come and look yourself, Schatz."

There was a sigh that was entirely too familiar for Verin's liking. Then, the door opened with a creak and in walked a dead man. "Complications," Essek Thelyss said with a fond smile. "I was just a Sending away, what did you come here fo— oh."

The person wearing his brother's face stopped in their tracks as they saw him. A couple of complicated emotions passed over his face—confusion, surprise, regret, guilt. If he hadn't known before, Verin was certain now that they were impostors, all of them. His brother would never tolerate such a display of weakness. Still, the impostor said: "Hello, brother."

Verin whipped his head back around to the wizard in his grasp. "What the fuck are you playing at?" he hissed.

"I- what- Verin!" the Essek-impostor sputtered. "What are you doing; put him down!"

"I would appreciate that, yes," Widogast added.

"Not before you don't tell me what's going on."

"Going on?" The impostor sneered and shook his head in a perfect imitation of his brother. "Nothing is going on, Verin."

"You died," he accused him.

"Evidently not," Essek scoffed.

Verin narrowed his eyes, looking from the man claiming to be his brother over the other too calm wizard to the rest of the Nein, seemingly perfectly happy to let this play out. "Prove it," he demanded. "Tell me something only my brother would know."

"You've become paranoid," he noted and Verin couldn't decide if it sounded proud or disappointed. "Alright. When you and I were in our early thirties, you once got in trouble for scaling the outside of mother's mansion. Rightfully, I should have gotten in trouble, too, but I was hiding on the attic. And the reason you never told anyone, is because then you'd have had to explain that I, the wizard, had somehow outpaced you, the fighter, in a climbing competition."

Verin wrinkled his nose at that. "Well, my brother cheated."

"I did not cheat, thank you very much!" He huffed indignantly and crossed his arms. "You didn't say 'no magic' before we started."

He stared at Essek for a few moments. "It's you," he whispered.

"Obviously."

Verin dropped the wizard on the ground and looked over at his brother; really looked. The man looked nothing like the one he had known for most of his life. His hair was longer than it had ever been since he'd cut it off and his bare feet were touching the ground. His clothes were casual, a simple tunic and trousers. After this day, Verin knew for a fact that not even Essek's trancing clothes were that informal, and yet his brother looked more comfortable in them in another's house than he had in decades. On top of that, he kept glancing over to Widogast. And smiling. Essek was smiling.

No, this man looked nothing like the one Verin had known for nearly a century. But he looked a lot like his brother.

"You're alive," he said stupidly.

"Yes, of course I am," Essek said, as if Verin hadn't just attended his funeral.

It felt only right to tell him so: "Why are you alive? I was at your funeral."

"That's a long story," he sighed and floated onto one of the chairs that were slightly too tall for him. He accepted a cup of tea from Clay with thanks and turned back to Verin. "Why are you here?"

"Well, that's a pretty long story, too," Jester spoke up. "He kind of started freaking out about your earrings, I think? And he was crying and looking pretty awful and everything, right Caleb?"

"I, ah— didn't think he'd believe us if we told him about you," Caleb said. "So, we had agreed beforehand to bring him here, in case of an emergency."

"He thought we were lying," Clay added.

"I suppose it is my story to tell," Essek said. "Earrings, Verin?"

"They're your favourite," Verin said stupidly and held them out to him.

His face grew soft. "Oh," he said as he took them gingerly, "I didn't know that you kne—"

Before he could overthink and do something stupid like stop himself, he surged forward and enveloped his brother in a tight hug. After a moment Essek closed his arms around him, too.

It seemed so unreal, to be able to hold him after mourning him for what felt like years. All the worries, all the grief and anger that had crushed him in the past few weeks and for what? For the bastard to still be alive after all. It wasn't fair. Why had he had to go through all of that? And why did he feel the pressing urge to start crying again? He should be happy, shouldn't he, that his brother wasn't dead. So why did it make him feel so awful?

"I think this is our cue to leave," Fjord said. Verin felt his brother nod and heard the Mighty Nein shuffle out of the kitchen, the door closing behind them with a creak.

Only then, Essek spoke up. "Verin," he asked quietly, "are you crying?"

"Shut up," he mumbled through the thick fog of tears and snot, definitely not crying. "I hate you, Essek. Do you know what I went through?"

"Meeting the Mighty Nein? Yes, I can imagine."

"They're horrible," he complained. "They're loud and they're rude and they had absolutely no respect for any of your belongings! I thought I was going mad."

"They are. They also are my friends, you know."

"How?" he asked agonised.

"I know they don't look like it, but they are surprisingly capable. And I am sure that you've noticed most of them to be annoyingly charming. But I think their absolute worst traits are their infinite stubbornness and perseverance. They quite literally did not leave me alone until they had befriended me."

Verin glanced up at him questioningly. "And were half in love with the wizard?" he guessed.

Essek scowled darkly, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. "Perhaps."

He snorted and disentangled himself from their embrace. Very calmly he said: "You're a liar."

Essek looked genuinely startled at that. "What?"

"You said, you trusted me more than him. Why then, did he know and I didn't?"

"It's... complicated," he said.

"You wizards say that a lot."

"Verin." Essek closed his eyes. "I trust you. Implicitly. And I care about you. Which is why I chose not to burden you with the knowledge of my misdeeds. I didn't— I didn't want to put you in an impossible situation to choose between me and our queen."

He laughed nervously. "What on earth are you talking about? I mean, you didn't commit treason or anything."

Essek didn't answer, avoiding eye-contact instead.

"Right?"

Still, Essek kept stubbornly quiet.

"Oh," Verin breathed. He took a moment trying to reconcile what he knew about his brother with the fact that he was apparently a traitor. It all fit together ridiculously easy. "The beacons."

Essek looked up at him in shock and he knew he had hit the mark. "What?"

"You stole the beacons." Now that he thought about it, it made perfect sense. Essek had been studying them at the time, one of the only people with frequent access to them. He had always been fascinated by them, yet his theories had been rejected for their heretic nature. As Shadowhand, he had also regular contact with counterparts from the Empire, albeit not officially. Then, a few years after Essek’s research had been denied, they had vanished. How had he never seen this before?

"Oh Essek...," he said softly.

"No, please— I don’t—Please don’t—” He seemed to deflate, curling in on himself. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you, I—”

"I don't care,” Verin interrupted his frantic ramblings.

"What?" Essek looked up at him, looking just as shocked as Verin felt.

“I don’t care,” he repeated, realising that it was true the moment the words left his mouth. For how could he care about something as trivial as treason when Essek was sitting right in front of him, alive and well. "You're my brother, I don't care. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe in a year. Maybe in ten. Right now, I only care that you're alive."

“I—What—I don’t—” Essek stuttered, lifting and then lowering his hands a few times. “I don’t know how— If I can—Fuck.”

There was a joke on the tip of his tongue, but even he knew that this wasn’t the right time for it. Essek was obviously trying to tell him something and it took him a minute to decipher that strange behaviour. “Are you asking for a hug?” he hazarded a guess.

An agonised expression passed over his face and for a moment Verin thought there were tears gathering in his brother’s eyes. Surely not. “I don’t know if I may. I don’t mean to overstep—”

Without further ado, Verin stepped forward and gathered a yelping Essek up and squeezed him tightly. “Of course you may!” he assured him, awkwardly patting his shaking shoulders. “I love you, Essek. I am very glad that you’re alive.”

“I’m very glad to see you, too,” Essek answered and squeezed him a little tighter.

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dreamkidddream · 3 years

Note

I’d like to request hc’s of the Brothers and Diavolo reacting to an MC that’s so cute, she could pass off as a doll. If she stands perfectly still, she could pass off as a full sized doll until she moves again. She has adorable doe eyes, wears cute clothes (Lolita fashion or just has an anime girl style), and even makes cute desserts. If the usual MC was weak and frail to them already, Doll!MC seems so dainty, precious, and fragile; these guys would ban paper if she ever got a paper cut.

Oooooo this is really interesting! I can just imagine Doll!MC just making everyone so scared every time she moves because they could probably hurt themselves just bumping into a wall because they look so fragile lol. These were short, so hope you enjoy!

Update: here’s part 2 with the other Undateables!

The Brothers and Diavolo Reacting to Doll!MC

Lucifer

...maybe he made a mistake in picking you for the exchange program after all

You just look so delicate, and just so pure.

You have definitely made cute little snacks and brought it to him while he locked himself in the office with paperwork

He lowkey highkey likes it no matter how he brushes it off with the usual thanks. Keep doing it, MC, he really appreciates it

When you get in trouble and he gives you the usual lectures, he can’t look into your eyes for long

Geez, he already can’t stay mad at you for long but now he can just feel his resolve cracking

If you get hurt oh Diavolo prepare for helicopter parent Lucifer

As soon as you accidently cut yourself in the kitchen (it would be the tiniest cut, barely noticeable), you’re no longer allowed in the kitchen unsupervised and can’t handle anything with a sharp end (whether its a butter knife or kid proof scissors that would be safe for Luke to use unsupervised)

“Let me do it for you, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Lucifer, thank you but I’ll be okay. It’s just a frosting spatula it’s not sharp-”

Will punish his brothers 10x worse and demons 100x more if he finds out you got hurt (doesn’t matter what the injury is, could be so much as a paper cut there will be hell to pay)

Constantly checks on you when he can’t see you in person

Handles you so lightly that you barely feel his touch

Move over Belphie, you’re the baby of the house now

Mammon

Protective x100000

Is still tsudere around you, but doesn’t insult you as much

Who are you kidding as soon as he looks into your cute doe eyes, he forgets what he’s saying

Complains about having to do stuff for you but doesn’t mind at all really. He loves it because it feels like you’re depending on him, and that makes him feel worth something.

“C’mon human, let the Great Mammon carry your books! You’re gonna hurt yourself and I don’t feel like hearing Lucifer’s mouth today!”

It was just your planner and a small recipe book that Luke gave you, and it weighed less than 10 pounds but okay. You don’t complain either when you see that he genuinely wants to help and do these things

Basically your loud guard dog and secret service agent rolled into one

He’s gotten into trouble more than once for “protecting you”. A student barely bumped your shoulder and Mammon already tackled him. Lucifer was not pleased (but he secretly understood)

He can’t help it that you’re weak and surrounded by hungry demons! It’s a pain to go through this much effort to just protect you, since you look so helpless

MC he’s just worried that you easily break if a demon so much as breathes on you but he likes that he can protect you because he knows that he can keep you safe. You’re just too cute and sweet okay??

Also stand in his room after watching a horror movie to freak him out and he’ll be sounding like Mariah Carey lmao

Leviathan

RURI-CHAN IS THAT YOU??!

Is for sure having an otaku/weaboo freakout moment

You blend in with figurines so well, every time you come into his room he asks you to stand next to them so he can feel that his collection is complete

He does it sometimes when he streams so people can think he has a rare limited-edition life sized doll that they can’t get. Makes him feel superior

DRESSING YOU UP IN COSPLAY 100%

You’re like an anime character but in real life and he does not know how to handle it

Can’t stare into your eyes, it makes them too flustered because he’s used to seeing it in his otome games and not from an actual person that he likes

Who needs maid cafes when he has you? You even dress and make anime themed desserts (once he built up the courage to ask you to make it for him)

Has to calm his beating heart every time he talks to you, you’re too precious for him MC!

Your like his very own idol, minus the singing and dancing. However, if you can sing and dance....

Levi.exe has stopped working

Satan

Thought you were a real doll until you introduced yourself

He really thought that someone brought you to life Pinocchio style

You looked like a princess from the many stories that he read, and he was smitten

Treated you so graceful and elegant like until he had his rage moments, which he told you to stay far, far, far away from him until he calmed down completely

Secretly placed a hex on you to where if someone tried to attack you or touch you with harmful intentions, they would be somehow be subjected to looking at their worst fear

You were wondering why that random stranger was just staring wide at you with extensive terror, but then you saw Satan grinning, so you left it alone. You thought it was just some weird demon thing

Loved when you made him cat-themed desserts

If you wore cat ears while doing it, he will turn extremely red

If you meow for him, he won’t know how to handle himself

Asmodeus

You are just the cutest thing he has ever laid his eyes on!!

Besides from himself of course, don’t get it twisted he’s still #1

He has most definitely had more than one photoshoot done with you both. And you guys have been trending on the Devilgram a couple of times already

Really you guys trend at least twice a month, and his fans love you!

They always ask where he got the doll from but he always laughs and says that “it’s a secret”

Imagine their shock when they see you walking and talking at RAD, some are amazed and some are downright scared

Fashion shows!

He lives for dressing you up in cute clothes. Your style already suited you and he had great tastes so the new outfits he got you were just *chef’s kiss*

The cute little desserts that you made for him, he always posted it on the Devilgram before he ate it. They were just so cute MC and he couldn’t not show his fans!

Is the most careful brother when it comes to keeping you out of danger. He refused to let his body or skin damaged, and he wasn’t about to let it happen to you either! You are both way too dainty and fragile to let anything happen

Also spa days and self-care nights weekly!

You’re the perfect match made just for him MC

He finally has someone that can understand his struggle of being beautiful, bless you MC

Beelzebub

Soft boy is scared of touching you :(

He towers over you, and he’s scared to even be near you

It takes some time, but he starts to warm up to you

Is always gentle with you, no matter the scenario

Holding hands? He is hardly gripping your hand, said hand fitting loosely in his

Getting hugs? He’s meagerly holding you, not wanting to crush you

You once complained to Beel that it wasn’t fair to get half done hugs (if you were hugging, you were getting a real hug, not a scared one).

He made you swear that if he was hurting you to let him know, so now you have your very own signal to use for him just in case

He was very tempted to wrap you in bubble wrap and just carry you around like that

He LOVES your sweets, even more than Luke’s and Barbatos’

No matter the size, he loves them, mainly because you made them and it was made with love, just for him

It always makes him feel so warm inside, and he doesn’t feel his appetite gnawing at him like usual

No one is dumb enough to try anything with you both in his presence and not, unless they want to end up either a: deep into the ground or b: into his stomach

You just make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and he just loves everything about you. He just loves you

Belphegor

Hm, you look cute

For a human

Acts like he doesn’t care, but you’ve caught him blushing before (he still does it too)

Won’t outright admit that you’re charming in your own little way, but he does in his sarcastic way like usual

“MC, you’re such a half-pint. You’re like my personal sized teddy bear.”

Has cuddled with you like you were his personal teddy bear (and still does, but you don’t complain at all)

Has a secret sweet tooth and eat your desserts whenever you make it just for him (and he doesn’t even share it with Beel, that monster)

Demons just have to look Belphie in the eyes, watch him flex his claws, and they all of a sudden forget about whatever they were planning. Good

He hates that you look so fragile, but at the same time he kinda likes it

You just look so soft, and you’re just so kind

It makes him feel like he’s protecting and caring for you, and that makes him feel calm and peaceful

Please make sure that he’s okay MC, he’s scared that he’s gonna mess up again

Diavolo

The Prince of Hell is both surprised and pleased at your appearance

Do all humans look this charming or is it just you??

If someone as soft as you can survive living and going to school with demons, then this is great

Knew that you weren’t a doll, but still liked to admire you like one

Has asked more than once for pictures, you are just too enchanting!

Wants to have a portrait painted of you so he can hang it up in the castle

LOVES you baking for him! Loves when Barbatos does it too (even though it is kinda part of his job), but it feels different with you. It feels...domestic in a sense. Makes him feel like Diavolo, your friend and very interested in being your boyfriend, instead of Lord Diavolo, the prince that will be residing over Hell in the future

No one would be foolish enough to hurt you. If someone was, they wouldn’t even get the chance to lift a finger before they were directly dealing with him. Don’t take his kindness for weakness, he still is a demon after all, the future King of Hell to be exact

Was scared of touching you at first, but quickly grew out of it! He can handle his own strength, and you guys also have a signal to use just in case he does squeeze a little too tight

Will want to dress you up in royal clothes (if you were okay with it). Nothing is wrong with your current style, as a matter of fact it suits you! He basically just wants to play a fancy game of dress up/have a fashion show with royal clothing

Will take 100s of photos, no exaggeration

Asmo will be jealous, so be warned

Plus, he wants to know how his future lover/ruler would look in a crown so he can start taking measurements. You can never be too ready, right MC?

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mcmansionhell · 3 years

Text

Underground, Part 1

[Author’s Note: A year ago, when waiting for the DC Metro, I came up with an idea for a short story involving two realtors and the infamous Las Vegas Underground House, typed up an outline, and shoved it away in my documents where it sat neglected until this month. The house recently resurfaced on Twitter, and combined with almost a year of quarantine, the story quickly materialized. Though I rarely write fiction, I decided I’d give it a shot as a kind of novelty McMansion Hell post. I’ve peppered the story with photos from the house to break up the walls of text. Hopefully you find it entertaining. I look forward to returning next month with the second installment of this as well as our regularly scheduled McMansion content. Happy New Year!

Warning: there’s lots of swearing in this.]

Underground

Back in 1997, Mathieu Rino, the son of two Finnish mechanical engineers who may or may not have worked intimately with the US State Department, changed his name to Jay Renault in order to sell more houses. It worked wonders.

He gets out of the car, shuts the door harder than he should. Renault wrinkles his nose. It’s a miserable Las Vegas afternoon - a sizzling, dry heat pools in ripples above the asphalt. The desert is a place that is full of interesting and diverse forms of life, but Jay’s the kind of American who sees it all as empty square-footage. He frowns at the dirt dusting up his alligator-skin loafers but then remembers that every lot, after all, has potential. Renault wipes the sweat from his leathery face, slicks back his stringy blond hair and adjusts the aviators on the bridge of his nose. The Breitling diving watch crowding his wrist looks especially big in the afternoon glare. He glances at it.

“Shit,” he says. The door on the other side of the car closes, as though in response.

If Jay Renault is the consummate rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xer trying to sell houses to other rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xers, then Robert Little is his millennial counterpart. Both are very good at their jobs. Robert adjusts his tie in the reflection of the Porsche window, purses his lips. He’s Vegas-showman attractive, with dark hair, a decent tan, and a too-bright smile - the kind of attractive that ruins marriages but makes for an excellent divorcee. Mildly sleazy.

“Help me with these platters, will you?” Renault gestures, popping the trunk. Robert does not want to sweat too much before an open house, but he obliges anyway. They’re both wearing suits. The heat is unbearable. A spread of charcuterie in one hand, Jay double-checks his pockets for the house keys, presses the button that locks his car.

Both men sigh, and their eyes slowly trail up to the little stucco house sitting smack dab in the center of an enormous lot, a sea of gravel punctuated by a few sickly palms. The house has the distinct appearance of being made of cardboard, ticky-tacky, a show prop. Burnt orange awnings don its narrow windows, which somehow makes it look even more fake.

“Here we go again,” Jay mutters, fishing the keys out of his pocket. He jiggles them until the splintered plywood door opens with a croak, revealing a dark and drab interior – dusty, even though the cleaners were here yesterday. Robert kicks the door shut with his foot behind him.

“Christ,” he swears, eyes trailing over the terrible ecru sponge paint adorning the walls. “This shit is so bleak.”

The surface-level house is mostly empty. There’s nothing for them to see or attend to there, and so the men step through a narrow hallway at the end of which is an elevator. They could take the stairs, but don’t want to risk it with the platters. After all, they were quite expensive. Renault elbows the button and the doors part.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he says as they step inside. The fluorescent lights above them buzz something awful. A cheery metal sign welcomes them to “Tex’s Hideaway.” Beneath it is an eldritch image of a cave, foreboding. Robert’s stomach’s in knots. Ever since the company assigned him to this property, he’s been terrified of it. He tells himself that the house is, in fact, creepy, that it is completely normal for him to be ill at ease. The elevator’s ding is harsh and mechanical. They step out. Jay flips a switch and the basement is flooded with eerie light.

It’s famous, this house - The Las Vegas Underground House. The two realtors refer to it simply as “the bunker.” Built by an eccentric millionaire at the height of Cold War hysteria, it’s six-thousand square feet of paranoid, aspirational fantasy. The first thing anyone notices is the carpet – too-green, meant to resemble grass, sprawling out lawn-like, bookmarked by fake trees, each a front for a steel beam. Nothing can grow here. It imitates life, unable to sustain it. The leaves of the ficuses seem particularly plastic.

Bistro sets scatter the ‘yard’ (if one can call it that), and there’s plenty of outdoor activities – a parquet dance floor complete with pole and disco ball, a putt putt course, an outdoor grill made to look like it’s nestled in a rock, but in reality better resembles a baked potato. The pool and hot tub, both sculpted in concrete and fiberglass mimicking a natural rock formation, are less Playboy grotto and more Fred Flintstone. It’s a very seventies idea of fun.

Then, of course, there’s the house. That fucking house.

A house built underground in 1978 was always meant to be a mansard – the mansard roof was a historical inevitability. The only other option was International Style modernism, but the millionaire and his wife were red-blooded anti-Communists. Hence, the mansard. Robert thinks the house looks like a fast-food restaurant. Jay thinks it looks like a lawn and tennis club he once attended as a child where he took badminton lessons from a swarthy Czech man named Jan. It’s drab and squat, made more open by big floor-to-ceiling windows nestled under fresh-looking cedar shingles. There’s no weather down here to shrivel them up.

“Shall we?” Jay drawls. The two make their way into the kitchen and set the platters down on the white tile countertop. Robert leans up against the island, careful of the oversized hood looming over the electric stovetop. He eyes the white cabinets, accented with Barbie pink trim. The matching linoleum floor squeaks under his Italian loafers.

“I don’t understand why we bother doing this,” Robert complains. “Nobody’s seriously going to buy this shit, and the company’s out a hundred bucks for party platters.”

“It’s the same every time,” Renault agrees. “The only people who show up are Instagram kids and the crazies - you know, the same kind of freaks who’d pay money to see Chernobyl.”

“Dark tourism, they call it.”

Jay checks his watch again. Being in here makes him nervous.

“Still an hour until open house,” he mutters. “I wish we could get drunk.”

Robert exhales deeply. He also wishes he could get drunk, but still, a job’s a job.

“I guess we should check to see if everything’s good to go.”

The men head into the living room. The beamed, slanted ceiling gives it a mid-century vibe, but the staging muddles the aura. Jay remembers making the call to the staging company. “Give us your spares,” he told them, “Whatever it is you’re not gonna miss. Nobody’ll ever buy this house anyway.”

The result is eclectic – a mix of office furniture, neo-Tuscan McMansion garb, and stuffy waiting-room lamps, all scattered atop popcorn-butter shag carpeting. Hideous, Robert thinks. Then there’s the ‘entertaining’ room, which is a particular pain in the ass to them, because the carpet was so disgusting, they had to replace it with that fake wood floor just to be able to stand being in there for more than five minutes. There’s a heady stone fireplace on one wall, the kind they don’t make anymore, a hearth. Next to it, equally hedonistic, a full bar. Through some doors, a red-painted room with a pool table and paintings of girls in fedoras on the wall. It’s all so cheap, really. Jay pulls out a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket along with a pen. He ticks some boxes and moves on.

The dining room’s the worst to Robert. Somehow the ugly floral pattern on the curtains stretches up in bloomer-like into a frilly cornice, carried through to the wallpaper and the ceiling, inescapable, suffocating. It smells like mothballs and old fabric. The whole house smells like that.

The master bedroom’s the most normal – if anything in this house could be called normal. Mismatched art and staging furniture crowd blank walls. When someone comes into a house, Jay told Robert all those years ago, they should be able to picture themselves living in it. That’s the goal of staging.

There’s two more bedrooms. The men go through them quickly. The first isn’t so bad – claustrophobic, but acceptable – but the saccharine pink tuille wallpaper of the second gives Renault a sympathetic toothache. The pair return to the kitchen to wait.

Both men are itching to check their phones, but there’s no point – there’s no signal in here, none whatsoever. Renault, cynical to the core, thinks about marketing the house to the anti-5G people. It’s unsettlingly quiet. The two men have no choice but to entertain themselves the old-fashioned way, through small talk.

“It’s really fucked up, when you think about it,” Renault muses.

“What is?”

“The house, Bob.”

Robert hates being called Bob. He’s told Jay that hundreds of times, and yet…

“Yeah,” Robert mutters, annoyed.

“No, really. Like, imagine. You’re rich, you founded a major multinational company marketing hairbrushes to stay-at-home moms, and what do you decide to do with your money? Move to Vegas and build a fucking bunker. Like, imagine thinking the end of the world is just around the corner, forcing your poor wife to live there for ten, fifteen years, and then dying, a paranoid old man.” Renault finds the whole thing rather poetic.

“The Russkies really got to poor ol’ Henderson, didn’t they?” Robert snickers.

“The wife’s more tragic if you ask me,” Renault drawls. “The second that batshit old coot died, she called a guy to build a front house on top of this one, since she already owned the lot. Poor woman probably hadn’t seen sunlight in God knows how long.”

“Surely they had to get groceries.”

Jay frowns. Robert has no sense of drama, he thinks. Bad trait for a realtor.

“Still,” he murmurs. “It’s sad.”

“I would have gotten a divorce, if I were her,” the younger man says, as though it were obvious. It’s Jay’s turn to laugh.

“I’ve had three of those, and trust me, it’s not as easy as you think.”

“You’re seeing some new girl now, aren’t you?” Robert doesn’t really care, he just knows Jay likes to talk about himself, and talking fills the time.

“Yeah. Casino girl. Twenty-six.”

“And how old are you again?”

“None of your business.”

“Did you see the renderings I emailed to you?” Robert asks briskly, not wanting to discuss Jay’s sex life any further.

“What renderings?”

“Of this house, what it could look like.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jay has not seen the renderings.

“If it were rezoned,” Robert continues, feeling very smart, “It could be a tourist attraction - put a nice visitor’s center on the lot, make it sleek and modern. Sell trinkets. It’s a nice parcel, close to the Strip - some clever investor could make it into a Museum of Ice Cream-type thing, you know?”

“Museum of Ice Cream?”

“In New York. It’s, not, like, educational or anything. Really, it’s just a bunch of colorful rooms where kids come to take pictures of themselves.”

“Instagram,” Jay mutters. “You know, I just sold a penthouse the other week to an Instagram influencer. Takes pictures of herself on the beach to sell face cream or some shit. Eight-point-two million dollars.”

“Jesus,” Robert whistles. “Fat commission.”

“You’re telling me. My oldest daughter turns sixteen this year. She’s getting a Mazda for Christmas.”

“You ever see that show, My Super Sweet Sixteen? On MTV? Where rich kids got, like, rappers to perform at their birthday parties? Every time at the end, some guy would pull up in, like, an Escalade with a big pink bow on it and all the kids would scream.”

“Sounds stupid,” Jay says.

“It was stupid.”

It’s Robert’s turn to check his watch, a dainty gold Rolex.

“Fuck, still thirty minutes.”

“Time really does stand still in here, doesn’t it?” Jay remarks.

“We should have left the office a little later,” Robert complains. “The charcuterie is going to get –“

A deafening sound roars through the house and a violent, explosive tremor throws both men on the ground, shakes the walls and everything between them. The power’s out for a few seconds before there’s a flicker, and light fills the room again. Two backup generators, reads Jay’s description in the listing - an appeal to the prepper demographic, which trends higher in income than non-preppers. For a moment, the only things either are conscious of are the harsh flourescent lighting and the ringing in their ears. Time slows, everything seems muted and too bright. Robert rubs the side of his face, pulls back his hand and sees blood.

“Christ,” he chokes out. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” Jay breathes, looking at his hands, trying to determine if he’s got a concussion. The results are inconclusive – everything’s slow and fuzzy, but after a moment, he thinks it might just be shock.

“It sounded like a fucking 747 just nosedived on top of us.”

“Yeah, Jesus.” Jay’s still staring at his fingers in a daze. “You okay?”

“I think so,” Robert grumbles. Jay gives him a cursory examination.

“Nothing that needs stitches,” he reports bluntly. Robert’s relieved. His face sells a lot of houses to a lot of lonely women and a few lonely men. There’s a muffled whine, which the two men soon recognize as a throng of sirens. Both of them try to calm the panic rising in their chests, to no avail.

“Whatever the fuck happened,” Jay says, trying to make light of the situation, “At least we’re in here. The bunker.”

Fear forms in the whites of Robert’s eyes.

“What if we’re stuck in here,” he whispers, afraid to speak such a thing into the world. The fear spreads to his companion.

“Try the elevator,” Jay urges, and Robert gets up, wobbles a little as his head sorts itself out, and leaves. A moment later, Jay hears him swear a blue streak, and from the kitchen window, sees him standing before the closed metal doors, staring at his feet. His pulse racing, Renault jogs out to see for himself.

“It’s dead,” Robert murmurs.

“Whatever happened,” Jay says cautiously, rubbing the back of his still-sore neck, “It must have been pretty bad. Like, I don’t think we should go up yet. Besides, surely the office knows we’re still down here.”

“Right, right,” the younger man breathes, trying to reassure himself.

“Let’s just wait it out. I’m sure everything’s fine.” The way Jay says it does not make Robert feel any better.

“Okay,” the younger man grumbles. “I’m getting a fucking drink, though.”

“Yeah, Jesus. That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.” Renault shoves his hands in his suit pocket to keep them from trembling.

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#architecture #design #fiction #las vegas #underground house

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immersed-in-mischief · 3 years

Text

Prince Charming (Loki x Female Reader)- Part 2

I was too excited to wait any longer before posting part 2! This part is pretty long but it didn’t feel right to split it anywhere. Over 3k words!

Summary: Things with Chaos begin to develop pretty quickly now that Loki his preoccupied with is new girl.

Warnings: none, just fluff

"Nice of you to join us, Sleeping Beauty!”

10 minutes late. Chaos had certainly accepted the challenge, alright. The sun was already peeking through the building outside your window when the two of you called it a night. Could it still be calling it a night when it wasn’t night anymore though? You had lost track of time in the shower replaying the conversation over again. The lack of hot water quickly brought you back to reality and you grabbed the closest outfit you could reach and threw your hair up in a bun as you raced to the conference room. You noticed Loki giving you a confused stare from across the table. He pretended to pay attention while typing a message out to you from his tablet.

L.Laufeyson: You’re staring off into space and grinning like a mad man. Stop it. It makes you look creepy.

You rolled your eyes and stuck your tongue out at him when Rogers turned his back to face the screen.

Who are you calling creepy? I know you only pay attention to the parts about hostile takedowns. Maybe I just really enjoy 7am mission briefings. You don’t know me as well as you think you do Mischief!

When Tony shared a look between you and Loki from his end of the table, you both put the tablets down and made a better attempt to pay attention. You tried to quietly hide your yawn. Maybe you could sneak in a nap later since you hadn’t actually gotten a wink of sleep.

Over the next few weeks, you not only talked to Chaos every night you weren’t away for a mission, the two of you had begun to exchange a few messages throughout the day as well when you both weren’t busy with work. Since you weren’t really hanging out with Loki much anymore, it was a welcomed distraction. You had come across him on his phone on several occasions with his book carelessly discarded somewhere nearby. He always seemed to get frustrated with you when you interrupted his reading so this girl must really be special to him. One afternoon, you swore you heard him sigh after putting his phone away. It felt like a punch to the gut. If he even noticed that you hadn’t had one of your movie nights or dinners together in nearly a month, it didn’t seem to bother him. It just gave you more excuses to return the flirtatious advances from Chaos. You couldn’t say that you were really fighting it all that hard though. It may have started out as a distraction, but it felt really good to feel wanted by someone again. Being head over heels for your best friend, coworker, and pretty much roommate makes dating kind of difficult.

With Rogers away on a mission, you cut training a few minutes short to hurry back to your room. A huge grin slowly spread to see the light in the corner of your tablet flashing. Even though it was hard, you resisted the huge to check the message and made yourself shower and change first. Once you were changed into your pajamas for the night, you curled up on the corner of the sofa in your room and slid the screen on.

Dove, I know you won’t see this until late this evening, but I didn’t want to wait another second to tell you that I truly missed our talks the last several nights while I was away. I’m anxiously counting down the minutes until you arrive home from work. You’ve quickly become my favorite part of my day

This guy knew exactly what to say to make you swoon. Part of you was glad he couldn’t see how often he made you blush. You noticed the message was sent just before you returned to your room and Chaos was still logged in.

What if you didn’t have to wait until late this evening?

The fact that he was immediately responding made you smile. Although it was foolish to believe the guy would be staring at the computer waiting for you, it still gave you butterflies when he was so eager to talk to you.

I’d say that’s the best news I’ve heard all day. Not that I’m not excited to see you online, but don’t you still have a few hours of work left, darling?

Grabbing a blanket off the back of the couch, you snuggled up on the couch with the charger for your tablet placed within reach.

Boss is out of town, so I cut out early today. Curling up at home to watch the rain while talking to my favorite person sounded better anyways 😉

Your secret is safe with me. Rainy afternoons curled up with a good book is on my list of favorite things, though speaking with you might have recently taken a higher position on said list. Would it be too forward of me to say that I would rather spend a rainy afternoon like this by your side instead of speaking through an electronic device?

There it goes again. You feel the heat on your cheeks as you bite your lip to control the grin on your face.

Were you really on a business trip or were you just spending time thinking of things to say to make me blush? Not that I’m complaining really. To answer your question, no it wouldn’t be too forward. I was thinking the same just now actually…

You always know how to make me laugh. Unfortunately, I’m not that smooth. I truly was away for business. I can’t help but wonder now how often I cause a blush to form on your cheeks. Maybe that will be my new mission, though it would not be a fruitful endeavor without seeing it in person. I’m sure it’s adorable

Not that smooth? I beg to differ! The number of times you make me absolutely swoon tells a different story. In order to keep my dignity, I won’t disclose what that number actually is at the moment. Let’s just say you must read classical literature and Shakespeare on a regular basis because it shows. Enough of my blushing and swooning! So, Chaos, if we were to be face to face on a rainy afternoon like this, how would we spend it? Not that I am assessing your dating skills or anything… or am I?

The fact that I make you blush and swoon often is quite flattering actually. I was raised somewhat old-fashioned I guess you could say. I was taught that a woman should be treated as a princess and that anything less is disrespectful. I guess you could thank my mother for that. If I’m being completely transparent, you tend to cause me to “blush and swoon” quite often as well, Dove. The feelings you stir within me make it nearly impossible to not let a smile grace my lips at the very thought of you…

Now that I’m sure I have a blush once again residing on your cheeks, I believe you inquired about my dating skills in a not-so-subtle way… Given the honor to have you accompany me on a date on a rainy afternoon such as this, I would say that a visit to a secondhand bookstore would be in order. I of course have a few around the city I like to frequent already. I would enjoy the opportunity to discover what books captured your attention and compare our favorites. Once we had found a few treasures and picked out at least one for the other to enjoy, we would find a place to sit and converse, just like we do here already. A quiet corner of a coffee shop would be a preferred place of mine. It would give us the chance to people watch as well. We could even make up stories about their lives and what we thought their day had entailed. If you didn’t feel it to be too intimate for such a date, I wouldn’t be opposed to finding a quiet place to curl up together to watch the rain and sit and read together.

I admit that I’m now quite curious, Darling. How does my answer fair in your assessment that you may or may not be performing on my ability to court?

You reread his answer a few times before you remembered that you now needed to write back. How could you be so flustered over….words? Now seemed like a good time to run to the kitchen for a snack. Something told you that you had already decided exactly how you wished to spend your evening.

As you made yourself a hot tea and let yourself imagine what a date like that with him would be like, you looked up to see Nat and Wanda standing there staring at you.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?”

They shared a look before turning back to you.

“Nat, I think our girl just literally floated into the room. She also hasn’t stopped smiling for days now. Could it possibly have anything to do with this mystery guy that you keep dashing away to talk to on your tablet possibly?”

Wanda and Nat laughed as they stood and waited for their answer. Nat was even more forward.

“It’s no secret. You charge that tablet nearly three times a day now. When are you just going to meet him already? You obviously are already completely smitten with each other. It’s written all over your face and if he is making you look like this all of the time, he must be pretty dreamy.”

You willed the kettle to heat up faster to escape this conversation.

“I don’t know. Maybe we will meet up at some point, but things are pretty great right now. What if we meet in person and there is no chemistry?”

Nat came and put a hand on either cheek, holding your head in her hands.

“Sweetie, if this guy was enough to help you forget that you are madly in love with your best friend, then there is zero chance that you two lack chemistry.”

They both laughed at the shocked look on your face. Wanda patted you on the shoulder and whispered as she walked by.

“Yeah, we know about that too. You don’t hide the way you stare at him very well. The only person who can’t see your feelings is Loki.”

Squeezing the bridge of your nose out of frustration, you whispered under your breath.

“Are there no secrets in this building?!”

Wanda seemed to get an idea and turned back around before leaving the kitchen.

“The costume party! That’s how you can meet him in person! Invite him to Tony’s costume party next week. If you don’t feel it in person, you will be in disguise anyways since it’s a masquerade ball! It’s perfect! Your own little fairy tale!”

Just as Nat got excited as well, you put a stop to it.

“Absolutely not! That is so cliché even for you two! Plus, I’m not meeting him for the first time in the lion’s den. That’s just cruel. Get over it. I am not inviting him to Tony’s party, end of discussion.”

“Inviting who?”

Your head whipped around to see Loki standing at the edge of the kitchen. His wet hair formed soft curls against his shoulders and left damp spots on the tight t-shirt that hugged him in all the right places. The sweatpants that hug low on his hips didn’t help stop your breath from quickening. You felt frozen under his gaze.

“Who are you not inviting, Bug?”

Before you could answer, Nat spoke up.

“Her new Boy Toy…”

You shot a warning glare to her before turning back to Loki in time to catch the smirk form on his lips.

“Boy Toy? Is that who has been stealing you away from me? Well then, sit by me tonight for movie night and you can tell me why exactly he is not being invited to Tony’s party.”

“I uh… I can’t tonight.”

He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at you.

“Come on Ladybug. I haven’t seen you in days and we both know we haven’t had a movie night in ages. Don’t you love me anymore?”

You unsuccessfully hid the squeak that escaped at his question. The pout he gave you told you that he was joking and not actually acknowledging the fact that you had been head over heels for him for way longer than should be allowed. Just as you tried to come up with anything at all to say, Wanda covered for you.

“She has a date with the Boy Toy.”

He seemed to accept that answer.

“Fine. But I expect you to attend the next one, Bug. Better not keep the Boy Toy waiting now.”

As he turned to head into the living room, the kettle started to whistle, and you let out a sigh of relief. When you finished making your tea and grabbing enough snacks to not have to leave your room anymore tonight, you turned to face them one more time.

“You two better help me find a damn good costume… I can’t believe I’m going to do this.”

They giggled and high fived as you shook your head. On the way back to your room, your mind drifted back to Loki. It was time to move on. At the mention of you dating someone, there was zero trace of jealously or emotion in his face. He didn’t see you like that and he never would. You had a guy that showed genuine interest in you and freely let you know as well. There was no wondering if Chaos wanted something more with you than a casual chat online. Meeting a stranger in person couldn’t be any safer than in a high security tower surrounded by the Avengers.

You took a sip of your tea and smiled at the flashing light on the tablet on the couch beside you.

I hope your silence isn’t an indication of a poor assessment…

Sorry! No not at all! I just stepped away for a minute to get something to eat. Although it is fun to make you sweat it out a little…

To say I’m relieved is an understatement, Dove. I thought maybe I had made you uncomfortable earlier.

Quite the opposite actually. It sounds like the perfect date to be honest. I’m quite the cuddler when given the chance. In fact, I’m curled up with a blanket and a hot tea as we speak…

Then I shall be jealous of said blanket and mug since they get to cuddle with you instead of me… Since we appear to both have the same thoughts as to what constitutes the perfect date, does that mean you find my skills adequate?

I suppose… 😊

So, Chaos, if you’ve already put thought into the two of us on a date, does that mean that you might want more than just exchanging messages online?... now I’m the one worried about being too forward!

As the bubbles appeared and you waited for a response, you started to regret being so blunt with your questioning.

Darling, I’ve wanted that longer than I care to admit, so no you are not being too forward. I’ve thought about breaching the subject of meeting you in person for some time but could never gather the courage to do so. I’ve honestly never had a connection with someone truly as strong as I feel with you. Is a face-to-face meeting something you might want as well?

Absolutely. I’ve been nervous to bring it up too. I didn’t want to assume that the connection was mutual and end up embarrassing myself. I’ve made the mistake in the past of letting my heart get involved to find out too late that those feelings were not returned. It’s not something I wish to go through more than once.

Dove, I can assure you that is not the case with me. I assure you that any feelings you may have developed are returned tenfold. I have never seen your face or heard your voice, yet you have my heart… Does this mean I will soon get the opportunity to see the effects of this blushing and swooning you speak of with my own eyes?

That is really good to hear and I guess I need to start hiding such effects now… So … there is a reason for my line of questioning actually…

Oh? It that so? Please continue…

I’ve actually been given an invitation to a party at Stark Tower next weekend being hosted by the Avengers. Since we did meet in an Avengers chat room, it seems kind of poetic that we meet up at an event hosted by them.

It really is poetic isn’t it? I’m aware of the event you speak of though I hadn’t planned on attending. I would be willing to reconsider however if I knew that you were in attendance as well. Is it a masquerade ball in fact, is it not?

Yes, everyone attending is expected to be in costume. If I was not only in attendance, but there as your date, would it be enough to help you reconsider?...

More than enough, My Love.

Well, it’s a date then 😊

It would be my honor, Dove. There is still one matter to discuss. If we are both in costume, how exactly will I know when I’ve found you?

Would it be too cliché to attend as Cinderella and Prince Charming? It is a ball after all.

Not at all. In fact, I find it to be quite a romantic gesture to meet my princess for the first time dressed as her Prince Charming. You deserve to have your fairy tale moment, Darling.

So, it’s settled then. Next Saturday. Do you need me to get you put on the guest list?

That won’t be necessary. You aren’t the only one with connections, Love.

#loki fluff #loki smut #loki angst #loki fanfic #loki fandom #loki laufeyson #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #marvel

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thefanbasewhore · 3 years

Note

Can you do a soulmate Stucky x reader? I feel like you would write that so well, especially how you portrayed bucky in "are you mad at me" was so soft. The soulmate version would be so cute

Summary || Bucky and Steve meet their soulmate, which they had no idea existed.

Warning/content || fluff, a small explicit scene, fighting. Soulmate AU.

Paring || Bucky Barnes x reader x Steve rogers

I got a little carried away, but enjoy ❤️ not edited or beta read but I'm sleepy 😴

Bucky and Steve have had each other from the moment they have met. Imaging their surprise, being two little boys from Brooklyn seeing colors, something the two agreed to hide, pending the time period.

It was different now, a different time. They were accepted and while both of them loved each other, so very much, especially through the mind control, fighting each other, then for each other. They always knew something was missing.

A color, maybe even two, three. A part of them missing but they both collectively came to the conclusion that it was just that. Some missing colors, it happens sometimes.

It happens when they least expect it.

After Thanos, after Tony finally deciding to leave that kind of life behind, buying a small two bedroom house on the outskirts of the city. A home to grow old in, be together for the first time since before the war started but only one thing prevented that.

The house was a disaster, gutted to the foundations, no running water, green moss outside covered the whole house, the lawn completely out of control. For Bucky it was a hard no, it was a dump but the moment Steve fluttered those ridiculously long lashes, how could he say no?

So here they are, sweating on this 90 degree day, putting up new dry wall with no air-conditioning.

"What color should it be?" Steve asks, glancing to his dark haired lover, taking notice of his now shirtless appearance. Bucky let out a sigh, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"Maybe we should get all of the walls up first."

Steve clicks his tongue, "I like the color green, like a nice pastel mint green."

"Whatever you want, honey." Bucky wasn't too picky, besides whatever made Steve happy, made him happy.

"Hello?" A sweet, feminine voice came from the kitchen. The doors left open because of the heat, there was nothing much in here anyways.

Steve pulls away from his task, pulling his shirt over his head to wipe his forehead with it. "Come in, we are in the kitchen."

Bucky wasn't too alarmed, Steve had told him previously that he hired a someone to make up the yard, nothing too fancy but the both of them were completely clueless when it came to plants, or gardens period.

"Quite a project you have going on here, Mr. Rogers." No doubt taking in the half gutted house along the way. While they have never met, they spoke on the phone briefly about his wants.

"You have no idea, Hun."

The woman looks around the kitchen first, noticing the freshly painted cabinet, the smell a dead giveaway, half eaten burgers thrown to the side on a small, make shift table with barely enough room to fit.

At first glance towards the man she notices the sharp jawline, defined but soft feature of the blonde as she greets him with a smile which soon drops in confusion as small dots of color appear. Stormy blue eyes with a full beard, Steve's mouth dropping agape as he notices the splirts of color - the missing colors for 106 years finally appear.

Bucky notices the tension in the room, shifting his attention from the wall to Steve, noticing how intensely he's staring, Bucky follows the line of vision and meets sweet eyes.

She's hit with another line of color, different from Steve's but now there's no more gray hue, bright yellows and blues. The outside is suddenly so bright and Bucky mouth drops.

This cannot be happening.

They sit there and stare for what seems like hours.

"I - ugh.." she starts, "What is happening?"

***

Sometimes life just throws curve balls, like finding out that your soulmate or in this cause soulmates are two, one hundred year old super soldiers who have already been in love with each other for over a decade.

The pull is already strong, nature intended for these souls to be together until death due part and honestly Bucky could feel it. With Steve he was used to the urge of wanting to have him close, kiss him every free minute he has but with the woman in front of him, it's new.

He doesn't even know her name, watches the way she nervously flickers from Steve's gaze to his own. She's beautiful.

Strong but delicate features, the curve of her nose is cute, cupid lips are so full... kissable. He can't stop staring, even with Steve and her in the mist of conversation. The make shift table cleared of all prior mess, Buck and Steve have to share a chair, which is quite comical, seeing two giant supersoldier try to share a small, old, dinning room seat.

Bucky's metal fingers twitch, metal plate click and whirl to life as he tights to urge to map her face out with his fingers. His heart is beating so fast, filled with so much... Love? Joy?

No matter how much Steve and Bucky try to hide it.. deep down they always knew, something was missing and in this case, someone.

"You're beautiful." The words catch both her and Steve off guard, Bucky blushes red something terrible but the sweet smile defuses the fire.

Well until she says something back, "You are too."

His whole face is hot and Steve reaches over to affectionately rub the back of his shoulder. Of course Steve was calm, he always is.

He handles things with lots of thought and understanding, while Buck is more hot headed, acts on the moment.

***

"It doesn't feel right." Bucky comments, watching from the window to insure she safely gets into the car. Steve sighs, by the time they're done talking darkness has filled the house. Steve affectionately squeezes the brunette's bicep, pressing a kiss to his hair.

"I know Bucky. This is a lot for her, for us. She needs to take time and reflect on this. She'll come to us when she's ready."

Bucky knows nothing then her name, and love for plants but chews at his bottom lip nervously. She's too far, the bond pulls at his heart strings. Now bonded forever. "What if she never comes back?"

"She will."

***

A few days pass, the kitchen is finally done, new appliances, new china and kitchen fully stocked. Steve is making something for Dinner - it smells amazing while Bucky starts painting the walls of the lifeless living room.

It's bare, not even something to sit on but no doubt with the stamina of two super soldiers it will be done by next week.

The knock on the front door is unexpected, but Bucky replies quickly. "I got it, Stevie!"

He expects some older, much wrinkly neighbor to be complaining about the noise of the nail gone or something this late at night. His mouth drops, a little shocked at the sight of her.

A very formal sitting dress, long and black, dips into a sweetheart neckline, the valley of her breasts easily visible. Hair is thrown into a neat updo, sexy and sleek.

Bucky clears his throat. "Hi." He squeaks out, feeling like a total idiot as he watches her nervously shift her weight from one heel to the other.

"Hi, I was in the area. A wedding for one my clients, thought I'd come say hello." Bucky wants to shake his head in disbelief that something so beautiful, just like Steve is made for him.

The universe sculpted and made two beautiful, breath taking human beings to be his and it's overwhelming. She's so pretty it's alarming.

It was a good excuse, the truth but not the real reason she stopped by. How could she tell them that they have been on her mind none stop? It physically hurts to be away for so long.

"Who is it, Buck?" Steve mumbles, interrupting the thick tension between the two.

"Come in, doll." Bucky's helps her with the jacket that lays over his shoulders, mentioning his head towards the direction of the kitchen, where his other lover is.

Steve is stunned none the less, he at least expected a few more days. Also, feeling much like Bucky, amazed by the radiating beauty.

He decides to play it cool, dimples forming with a breath taking smile. "Do you like spaghetti?"

Hours pass, time moves so fast with conversation, and adding wine to the mix surely didn't help.

The trio once again in the kitchen, but this time each have a chair, a new, more comfortable dinning set.

"You got this done fast. It's beautiful." She comments, "Colors are beautiful, I guess I have you two to thank for that."

Bucky shifts in his seat, the glass of wine is useless but still finds himself sipping from it. Her eyes are red, watery with a slight buzz.

"Do you feel it?" The question has both Bucky and Steve look at each other, watching her teary eyes as she presses a hand to sooth the ache in her chest. "It hurts, it hurts to be away. All week."

"It's normal." Steve answers just above a whisper, his next words make Bucky's bottom lip quiver. "I felt it every day for the last 5 years, Bucky was gone."

Bucky had never thought about it - there hasn't been enough time to. It's only been a month later since the return and it never occurred to him what Steve has gone through.

"Steve.." He starts, tears kiss his waterline as his fingers run through the blonde's hair. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I didn't know, I -."

"Couldn't prevent it Buck. It happened but you're here now and.." Steve turns his attention towards the girl, tears slip past her eyelids. It's for Steve, for Bucky.. all the pain and suffering they've been through. "Hey, don't cry, it's alright beautiful."

It's feels right, despite barely knowing the man, nothing feel more right then being pulled into his chest as a large metal hand comforts her in a different way, rubbing the loose strands of hair as he murmurs. "We've got you now, you're our other half."

***

Months have past from that day. The house is finally done, everything they could have imagined with the additional of an extra tooth brush in the cup that sits on the bathroom sink, a pile of fuzzy blankets at the bottom of the bed and a five year old chocolate lab. Steve didn't mind much, he's always loved dogs, Bucky on the other hand...

"Alright, alright, Maverick." Bucky huffs, grocery bags in hand as the dog excitedly nuzzles his legs, following him throughout the house like it wasn't only an hour ago he's seen him. Once putting the bags down, hears the whine, big brown eyes staring up at him. Bucky sighs, dropping to a knee before petting the pup's head. "Alright you mutt, don't tell anyone about this."

"Too late, pal." Bucky jumps, hearing the amusement in Steve's voice, followed by the giggle of the woman that peers out from behind him. Wrapping her arms around Steve before testing her head against his shoulder.

"Caught you red handed, you love Mav." Bucky grumbles at her words, feeling two smaller hands wrap around his waist as a head falls into his chest. He presses a soft kiss into her hair before taking in the blonde that barely fits through the doorway he leans against.

Bucky's free hand reaches out, mentioning him closer but as she's soon finds herself in the middle of a super soldier sandwich. "Hi, baby." Bucky presses a kiss to the blonde's lips.

"Hi, pal."

***

"It's only one mission. That's it, we will be in and out." Steve promises, not liking the way his girls face twist into a worried expression.

Heavy eyes, lower lip sticking out to pout. "What if something happens? If you get hurt? Or if they find you, Bucky?"

"I told you, Hydra is gone, honey." Bucky's large hands sooth over her tight shoulders, pressing soft kisses to the back of her upper traps.

"No. You still have nightmares at least three times a week. This can't be good for you. And you." She turns her attention back towards Steve, "Barely sleep four hours a night. You carry the fault on your shoulders, you don't need anymore. I don't want you two to go."

"We don't have a choice. They were my family once, I owe this to them." Steve didn't miss the way her lips moves to form a snarl, not sparing another glance as she makes a b-line for the stairs.

Bucky sighs, leaning against the wall. "She's going to be mad at us." Rubbing his chest with hopes to ease the burn.

The bond pulls at their hearts, a slow, painful punishment for their actions.

They return two weeks later, tired, just wanting to see their girl. The moment they walk into the house they look at each other with will wild eyes, heart pumping as they fear the worse. The dog, the annoying wiggling tail that would bark is one where to be found, something is wrong.

It's alarming. "Where is that freaking mutt?"

Steve calls her name, but there is no answer. Bucky and him are searching the house, ascending the stairs, opening the bedroom door with a deep sigh of relief.

The stupid dog takes up half of the bed, but is cuddled into his owner. Arm draped around the ball of fur, amount as long as her.

The dog lifts his head, a little tail waggle as Steve stretches his ears, lowering to his knees and laying his top half over the bed to press loud, audible kisses to his ears. "Good boy, protecting our girl while we are gone."

When morning comes she notices the dog is still pressed against her, licking small stripes against her cheeks. "Have to go out, buddy?"

She barely makes it five steps before tripping over two rather large bodies, sleeping on a makeshift bed on the floor. Bucky groans and Steve's eyes flicker open.

"Why are you on the floor?"

"Wanted you to sleep pretty girl. Mav was taking up all the room and you looked like an angel." Bucky hums in agreement despite his eyes being closed.

"Mmm, well it's all free now." It's short, simple but the sarcastic tone has Bucky's eyes flickering to meet his boyfriend's. They both sigh, staring up at the ceiling, knowing it's going to be a long day.

And it is. She's does whatever she can to get away from them, only answers with short replies to the point Bucky can't take it anymore.

"Sweetheart," Bucky tries again but she doesn't acknowledge him, eyes stayed glued to the book. He gets fed up, metal plates click as artificial appendages run over the binding and pull it from her grasp.

"Give it back, James."

He cringes at the name, a displeased frown wears his face. "No, you have to talk to us."

"No."

"You're bring a brat." Bucky starts, watching her expression change from annoyed to anger, wrinkles of frustration pinch between her eyebrows.

"Buck - don't say that to her." Steve comments, it's his fault, he's the one who said yes without confiding in her first.

"She is, it's over with now. She has no right to be this mad."

"No right?" Her chest fills with emotion as a humourless chuckle causes both men to stiffen. "No right? Huh Buck? I sat here for two full weeks, no communication, nothing while the two of you are out there fighting God knows what after you swore, promised you would always be with me. Don't promise me forever if you're just going to throw yourself in danger! You're going to die and leave me, or worse! Both of you will."

No one says a word, only watch as her chest rises and falls with deep, heavy pants despite the tears that rolls past her eyes lashes.

"Honey, I'm sorry -."

"I don't want to hear it James, and you." She turns towards Steve, fire in her soul. "I thought you would understand, more then him, considering it has happened to you."

She leaves the room without another word, Buck turns towards Steve, watching the way he fights the tears that gather. The pain of loosing Bucky is still so fresh, "She's right Buck, we fucked up."

"I know, I know." He mumbles into Steve's shoulder, pulling him close.

***

"You're so good to me, sweet girl." Bucky moans as she shifts her hips against him, the blunt end of his cock hitting the spot inside her that makes her squeal for more.

Large hands squeeze her hips as Steve leans over to find his boyfriend's lips, kissing him through the gasps and whines of their girl's name as she circles her hips around Bucky.

Steve's hands pull at his hair, lips trailing from his lips, down his cheeks before nipping at his jaw.

"How does he feel honey?"

"So good, Stevie." For a second he's in a trance, watching the way her face contours with pleasure and the pain of her third orgasm well on its way.

Steve lays next to Buck, hand wrapping around his own heaviness between his legs as he stokes it, switching between her face of pleasure to Bucky's, who bites his lip to suppress a moan.

It's short lived as hips stutter against her own, coating her walls with his warm cum.

Steve barely gives her time to recover, positioning her on his hands and knees before hovering over her ear and nibbling on it. "My turn, honey."

***

Her hands nervously shake, the kitchen table is all set up, dinner is ready but at the moment she doesn't have an appetite.

Between this morning sickness, the overall change her body is under going, food makes her sick. The opening of the front door makes her sit up straight, sucking in a deep breath.

Two voices conversationing in the hall, "I thought I said for you to lock the door when we leave." Buck is clearly annoyed, it's been a long day but Steve rubs his shoulders, mumbling something incoherent.

Upon entering the kitchen, they both grow worried. Face drained of color, red blotchy eyes with shaky hands.

"Hey, hey." Steve drops to his knees in front of her seat in an instant, hands curling around her wrist as worried steel blue eyes follow his stance, reaching over to stroke her cheek. "What is it? What happened?"

"I'm pregnant." She pauses, "I'm scared, I'm scared. What if someone comes for you? How are we supposed to raise a baby? What if it has the serum, will it ever be safe?"

The questions fill Bucky with dread, how much though put into every sentence, every word is like a new hit of pain to his body but he stays strong. For his girl, he leans forward, wiping the tears away from discolored cheeks. "Everything is going to be fine babydoll, you're going to be fine, our baby is going to be fine."

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky fluff #fatws bucky #bucky x y/n #bucky fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #steve x bucky #steve x reader #stucky x you #stucky x y/n #stucky x reader #stucky

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eloves-writes · 3 years

Text

a failed attempt to hate you

(tristan dugray)

a/n: i can only apologise if this writing is terrible, i wrote most of this in the middle of the night hopped up on medication for my disgusting cold. i hope it makes sense. anywho thanks for reading, enjoy, mwah <3

screw mr medina for making you help tristan study. you knew he knew from rory your inherent disdain for him, and it wasn’t your fault he was falling behind therefore not your responsibility to help him (as you had told mr medina last tuesday, with no effect). it was now sunday morning and you held little hope he would actually show up this time; he had somehow managed to cancel on your little study date 6 times already and it had only been 5 days since you were handed this apparently mammoth task. honestly, you didn’t expect him to show up at all, especially not anytime before noon- for which reasons you had made the decision put on your usual lazy sunday morning reading in bed get-up, which included (but was not limited to) an oversized rock concert shirt rory’s friend lane had given you in an attempt to clear her closet of non-christian attire, nothing but underwear underneath since you wouldn’t plan on leaving the comfort of your bedsheets for many hours, and a loose silk scrunchie you accidentally stole from rory keeping your hair out of your eyes.

your book of choice today was ‘harry potter and the goblet of fire’ , the most recently released chapter of the boy wizard’s adventures at hogwarts. the clock beside you read 9:15 as you comfied yourself for a morning of magic and adventure, which naturally was ended a mere 8 minutes later at 9:23 when the doorbell rang downstairs. you assumed your mother would answer it, but when it rang a second time you remembered your parents had both gone out to watch your sibling’s soccer match and you’d have to get it yourself.

it didn’t even cross your mind to put pants on, or that it may not be the postman at the door, until you opened it to see your very favourite chilton student whose eyes had hastily wandered to your bare legs. typical high school boy, you thought to yourself before your brain actually grasped the situation and kick started into action.

‘tristan. hi.’ you said with a slight shock in your voice.

‘erm, hi. i hope i’m not interrupting anything,’ he smirked, glancing down at your thighs again.

you rolled your eyes so aggressively you hoped mr medina could hear it from wherever he was spending his day, irritating boy-less and free to do whatever he wanted with his time.

‘you’re not,’ you quipped. ‘i just didn’t expect you to actually show up this time. and early may i add, i’m sure we said 11.’

‘we did, but i’ve got plans later so i thought i’d come by earlier and get this over with.’

‘how did you know i didn’t have plans? i might have been busy before 11.’

he pulled a face of amusement and you could swear you saw a hint of sarcasm shining through his eyes too. ‘right. are you done talking now or can i come in?’

‘you can come in, i guess,’ you sighed, closing the door behind him and showing him to the kitchen table. ‘wait here, i’ll go and get my books.’

‘grab some pants whilst you’re at it.’

‘stop talking,’ you called as you walked upstairs.

you came back downstairs a few minutes later fully-clothed and carrying your english notes to see that tristan had wandered from the chair you specifically remembered telling him to sit in, and was instead tracing a finger along the bookcase that stretched across the far wall of your living room. for a moment you just watched him nosey into your life; the framed certificates, the family photos, the 5 tapes of ‘beauty and the beast’ stacked atop of each other because it was your favourite film when you were 9 and practically every living relative had bought you a copy. beside those was a picture of you dressed as princess belle at disneyworld with chocolate ice cream smeared from cheek to cheek, a huge smile plastered between. tristan picked it up and turned to face you.

‘thoroughly adorable. seriously, you should go for this look more often.’

‘ha ha,’ you grimaced, snatching it off him and placing it back on the shelf. ‘are we studying or reminiscing on my past fashion choices?’

‘oo, someone’s in a good mood this morning huh,’ he teased. you pulled another face, once again silently cursing mr medina for completely ruining not just your day, but in fact your whole week. by god this boy got more irritating the more time you spent with him- it had only been 10 minutes, but it was 10 minutes longer than you ever previously had or ever wanted to.

‘can i get a drink before we start?’ he asked, redirecting the conversation and walking past you back into the kitchen. he began opening various cupboards, searching for a glass. ‘where’s the-’

‘why yes, tristan. you can have a drink,’ you snarked, opening the cupboard behind him with a dramatic flourish. he raised his eyebrows at you and reached forward to grab a glass, leaning over you as he did so. you caught a whiff of his cologne and almost forgot to dislike him for a moment.

‘there’s, um, soda in the ... fridge,’ you told him, voice unwillingly faltering as he looked down to meet your eyes. he had pretty eyes. pretty, blue, sparkling, stupid, annoying, asshole eyes.

you found the thick tension sickening. you refused to be another girl at school who simply swooned over him when he walked past your locker. you didn't like him. you were here to teach him english. because he was dumb. and actually, his eyes weren’t that nice.

he grabbed a soda out of the fridge and you both sat down at the table and began reading through your analysis of ‘to kill a mockingbird’, adamantly pretending not to see him staring at you the whole time.

why? he had had every popular and pretty girl in the whole of chilton, how was he ever so starved of female attention that he would look at you so admirably when you liked to make it clear you despised him? in fact, you enjoyed making a special effort to flip him off, or pull a face at him when he walked by, or kick his chair extra hard in spanish, or... oh shit. you had seen it from an outside point of view now, and it was glaringly obvious; maybe you did like him, just a little bit. shit. rory owed lorelai 10$ and a cheeseburger from luke’s, though you didn’t want to have to admit she was right when she’d said you were like a kindergarten boy pulling a girl’s ponytails because he thought she was pretty.

‘hey tristan,’ you started, breaking the comfortable silence between his questions and suddenly nervous to talk to him. stupid, it was still the exact same boy you’d been complaining about all week, nothing new.

he looked up from your notes. ‘what’s up princess?’

that was definitely new.

‘don’t call me princess’ -he smirked irritatingly- ‘do you need to stay much longer? i mean, is there anything else you want help with?’

‘trying to get rid of me?’

‘no! no. i just thought that you’d only stay and pretend to listen to me for like, half an hour then vanish. it’s 11:30 and you’ve been through my whole binder.’

‘it is? time flies.’

‘tristan.’

‘i do care about my grades, you know. and you’re a good teacher, i might have a chance at an A.’

‘why didn't you show up the last 6 times we planned then?’

he put down his pen- your pen, actually. it had pink sparkles on the lid. ‘got to keep up my street cred.’

‘ha ha. funny,’ you replied as blankly as possible, pulling back a smile you could feel in your stomach. you made eye contact again and, like every other time since you’d sat down and started studying, you held each other’s gaze for longer than necessary. funny how realising you like someone makes you suddenly act like it.

‘i should get going then right,’ he said, picking his jacket from the back of his chair.

you felt weird, almost as if you didn't want him to leave after praying earlier he wouldn't show up. alas, your parents would be home soon and you would be willing to bet money that tristan would have some interesting jokes about your being home alone that would not slide with your dad.

‘yeah. i hope you get that A,’ you said, accidentally smiling as you walked him to the door.

tristan turned to lean on the frame of the now-open door and put on a face of mock surprise. ‘my, my, y/n. was that a kind comment and a smile? you’re spoiling me.’

‘shut up, i hope you fail.’

he smiled back. ‘you really mean that?’

‘i guess not.’

there was yet another beat of heavy silence.

‘see you monday.’

you closed the front door as he walked down the drive, but noticed tristan’s car keys still sat on the kitchen table. a porsche, of course. you picked them up and reopened the door to his fist poised to knock. the two of you laughed awkwardly for a second.

‘i forgot my-’

‘you forgot your-’

another awkward laugh. jesus christ this was uncomfortable. you passed him the keys, and with absolutely no warning at all, your lips were suddenly met with his. they were soft and confident, and his free hand held your face as you tried to process the new situation. you quickly melted into the kiss, letting him take control until he pulled away and smiled that sparkly smile you didn't hate as much as you tried to.

‘didn't see that one coming,’ you said breathily, brushing some loose hairs off of your face.

‘i knew you didn’t hate me.’

‘ever the arrogant twat.’

‘hey, does this mean you’ll stop kicking my chair in spanish?’

‘absolutely not. in fact, i think i’ll kick it harder.’

‘as long as you let me do that again.’

tags: @leossmoonn for inspiring me to start writing again, @account123445 & @lmaoidekanymore6 for asking me to post tristan fics! (couldn’t figure out how to make the tags work but if you read this, you know ✨)

#tristan dugray #tristan gilmore girls #chad michael murray #gilmore girls #gilmore girls fic #gilmore girls fanfiction #can't think of anymore tags so i'll just hope this does ok on its own

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