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downwiththeficness · 3 years

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In the Bond-Chapter 1

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~4,900

Warnings: Blood (go figure)

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Next Chapter Read on AO3 Masterlist

Taglist: @symbiont13

Lilah McNamara knew, in that moment, that she was definitely going to die. Hanging from the ceiling, harness digging into her hips, she swung back and forth in a long, slow arc. Arms waving wildly, she glanced around the room, looking for the first one to strike. Richie had said no more than five. Five culebras hiding out in a nest, easily taken down with the right firepower (which they happened to have). All she had to do was lay the explosives, get to the roof, and repel down the side of the building. Easy peasy.

As the swing of her movement slowed, Lilah was able right herself enough that an involuntary, nervous smile, flitted across her lips. There were, indeed, five of them. And, they were looking at her, confused. This was good. Confusion bought her time. Her brain worked to come up with a logical excuse for having crashed their...ritual?

The room was a large, open space with little in the way of furniture. The domed glass ceiling had partially fallen to the tile floor below. There were a few chairs here and there, but the focus of the décor was the altar at one end. There was a copper bowl sitting in the center, the liquid inside thick and red. She filed that away to examine later, when her life wasn’t in immediate danger.

Standing behind the altar was what she assumed was the real target of their mission—which had not been brought up during the briefing for the job. Lilah was going to kill Richie for leaving this out of their plan—she just knew he was hoping for a special guest. And, this special guest was pretty much the end all, be all, of special guests.

Brasa. Rival. Blood drinker. Sun god. He was dressed in all black, a heavy leather coat hanging from impossibly wide shoulders. Lilah stared at him with doe eyes, knowing the threat that he posed to her far outweighed the threat of the culebras now circling a few feet below. He had eluded all of their schemes to take him down, somehow dodging explosives, machine guns, arcane magic. He was untouchable, and he was here.

Above, a face peeked over the edge of the broken glass. Lilah looked up (or down) at Seth, knowing that panic was plain across her face.

“Pull me up!” she shouted, her gaze moving back to the more pressing danger. This was not how she had planned to die. Though, with the way she was living her life lately, it was the most likely.

Lilah had done some pretty stupid things, pulled jobs in extremely dangerous locales, and had narrowly escaped some serious prison time. In the last few months she’d been with the brothers Gecko, all of the close calls she’d had during her career had been blown to little pieces. Poof. Gone. Utterly unable to compete with the sheer insanity of learning that vampires existed, that demi-gods were roaming the earth, and that she had joined up in the fight against them. If she didn’t kill Richie first, she’d shoot Seth as soon as she got her feet on the ground. Speaking of which...

“Fucking rope,” Seth grumbled, his hands reaching down to grab at it.

He gave an experimental pull before bracing his foot on the ledge and putting his weight into it. Lilah heard the scrape of it being pulled, her body lifting a few inches. The next grind of material was drowned out by a rising growl that drew her attention, unwillingly, from the culebras’ hungry faces. Brasa was slowly circling the altar, his eyes so black that there was nothing of the white left. His lips were pulled back in a snarl that exposed a dual set of fangs—shorter, but no less sharp than the ones she’d seen on culebras they’d hunted down before. She felt her heart lurch in fear.

The circle of hungry predators opened for him wordlessly, their eyes sparking with villainous amusement, fangs out and teeth bared. Lilah felt her body go involuntarily lax, her arms hanging by her ears. So, this was it. After months of working to quell the flow of these enemies, months of listening to the brothers argue about how best to attack and the most effective defense system. After all the things she had stolen to give them an edge. After all that...this was her end.

The rope yanked again, lifting her another foot or so. She bounced in the harness, feeling it catch at her inner thighs and shoulders. Another yank. Another foot. Seth wasn’t working fast enough. Brasa was within arm’s reach of her, his fathomless eyes looking up and an unreadable expression on his face. She looked back at him, hoping her death would be quick.

Another yank, this one harder than the last. She cringed as she rose and fell with a little yelp. Looking around, she frowned at the ceiling, her breath stuttering as she caught the fraying of the rope where it met the jagged glass surrounding the hole she’d made by falling stupidly through the skylight. Oh, fuck...it was going to snap. She was going to fall...Lilah glanced back down (or up), and made a quick calculation. Head first, she would break at least one bone, possibly crack open her head. A painful end, then.

Seth yanked her again, and Lilah could hear him yelling in frustration about it from above. She grit her teeth and yelled back at him.

“Pull harder, you asshole!”

This man could pull a win out of his ass at any time, no matter the circumstances. And now, he was struggling to pull her up from the depths of her literal death. It figured.

From not so far away, Brasa chuckled and took a step or two back, his shoulders canting down. Lilah flicked her attention from the ceiling to him and back, did it again, then felt herself reach a blind panic. Two running steps, and he leaped into the air, arm outstretched. Lilah made a vain attempt to bat him away, earning herself a strained huff of laughter.

His gloved hand grasped the harness where the five points came together at her sternum. Air pushed out of her lungs as he dug them into the material. His weight, coupled with a counterpoint pull downward had the already frayed rope finally breaking from somewhere above.

For half a second, she was weightless, and then Brasa’s bulk began to fall, taking her along with him. There was no grace in what she did next, a reaction of pure instinct. Lilah’s hands went for his shoulders, the largest target she could get at on him. Her legs kicked out as she grabbed him, the complete force of her body landing on him.

She had intended to take him to the ground, to drop everything she had on him like a hot potato—and then haul ass out the side door. A couple hundred feet, and she’d be able to pull the burner cell from her pocket and hit speed dial. Boom.

That’s not how it worked out. He caught her. He fucking caught her. All her weight, all his weight, the pull of Earth’s gravity, and all. Lilah stared at him as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her about six inches off the floor. He didn’t even have the good grace to flinch when her toes smacked against his shins.

Arms tucked against his chest, legs hanging uselessly, Lilah could only look at him, agog. He looked back, brows rising towards his hairline. And then he smiled. All teeth, the skin at the corners of his eyes wrinkling. This smile was worse than the smiles of his companions. This was a real smile, one that indicated a level of happiness that his kind shouldn’t be able to achieve. That, more than anything, scared her shitless.

Above them, a voice shouted, “You let her go, you fucking snake. She’s on our team.”

Brasa let out a soft breath, his mouth relaxing a little, but the smile remained on his closed lips, “I disagree.”

Seth cursed again and was suddenly firing bullets into the crowd around them. Lilah ducked her head a little, noting that Brasa made no move, though his arms tightened even more. Growls and the ricochet of bullets hit her ears, her eyes shut against the flurry.

In his distraction, Lilah was able to blindly free her gun from the holster at her thigh, turn off the safety, and fire a round. The recoil set off her aim, and the shot that was aimed to shatter his femur swerved to the left and merely ended out in a flesh wound. Still, he yelled as he dropped her and that was all she needed to get her feet underneath her and haul ass through the wrong fucking door.

She’d gone right when she should have gone left, her eyes half closed in fear, the whiz of bullets flying around her. The panic made her blind and desperate. Lilah cleared an open doorway and hit the far wall, her feet skidding across the hardwood. She sprinted down the hall, feeling a scream worm its way out of her throat when a loud, angry howl sounded behind her. It scored through her chest and pushed her to move faster.

Not looking back, she moved through what must have been a common room to another hall, rounding the corner and heading for the only door left to her. It opened easily, but Lilah found herself hesitating before a set of stairs.

“God, damn it,” she breathed, wanting to not be right where she was at that very second more than she wanted anything in her entire life.

After a moment of indecision, Lilah stepped through and closed the door as quietly as she could behind her. It was dark, and she didn’t want to chance turning on a light. Feeling her way, she stepped down stair by stair until her foot stopped prematurely, nearly setting her off balance.

Inhaling deeply, Lilah swallowed back the urge to cough at the musty smell. She could hide out here for a bit, wait until the coast was clear, and then go back to the original plan. Wait it out. Original plan.

Lilah tried to breathe, her hands reflexively slipping the clasps of the harness free so that she could have something to do while she thought. There was next to no light—except for what filtered around a walk-out door. Lilah blinked at it for a moment, clearly not able to handle her good luck. She got two steps towards it before she was spinning around and flung the other way. The harness flew from her hand, landing somewhere in the dark. She might have screamed had her throat not clenched so damn tightly that not even air could pass through.

Lilah caught some pretty decent air before she hit the wall with a dull thud and a sharp pain in her side. Landing in a little heap, Lilah struggled to get her bearings. Pushing from the floor, she leaned against the wall and faced her attacker, hand already reaching for her gun. She didn’t even get it out of the holster before her wrist was being held immobile. A palm pressed against her chest.

There was no moving forward or backwards. Not without his permission. Lilah sucked in a breath, glancing at the door behind him, and then back to his face. Cast in mostly shadow, Brasa didn’t look angry, as she expected. He looked...rather pleased. Lilah would rather that he was angry. Angry, she could probably deal with. Pleased was another matter entirely.

Leaning in, he inhaled deeply, his face unnervingly close to hers. Then, he pulled back, looked at her, and breathed, “Finally.”

Try as she might, Lilah couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She just stared at him like a fucking idiot while he looked her over, assessing. His hand pressed minutely forward, knocking a little more air out of her chest, and then he was stepping back and away. With the extra support, Lilah teetered off balance a moment before she caught herself.

It appeared that her luck was more of a fluke, fate’s last taunt before she was snuffed out of existence. She mentally flipped the universe the bird. Physically, she held very, very still. Just because he wasn’t killing her yet didn’t mean that death wasn’t coming.

Brasa remained between her and the door, blocking any hope of a clean exit. Lilah widened her stance, hand reaching again for her gun. Her heart dropped into her stomach when she realized he’d snagged it. A glance at his right hand confirmed it, the glint of the barrel shining in the low light. Fuck.

Brasa set it on a nearby table, and then reached up and tugged on something she couldn’t quite see. A singular light bulb flashed, swaying gently. Lilah squinted as her eyes adjusted, blaming the way her eyes watered on the additional light. Her hands curled into fists, her palms sweating, heart thudding. Every second stretched out into eternity as she waited for him to make his move.

He was squared up with her, his broad body more intimidating with every passing second. A glance downwards told her that the bullet she’d put in him was about as ineffective as shooting him with an air pellet—he didn’t even appear to be bleeding anymore.

“You are,” he began, his voice low and rasping, “An impossibility.”

Her mouth opened, a moment passed, and then, “I’m a what?”

His jaw tightened, “An. Impossibility.”

She did not have the capacity for philosophical discussions right now. Her body was filled with similar amounts of adrenaline and ire, the force of it keeping her heart beating hard in her chest. She was lucky she even had the capacity to form words, her panic and fear squeezing her throat none too gently.

Lilah looked down at her body, sighing, “I’m alive. I’m real. I’m possible.”

Was this how it was going to go down? Mind games? All of her research told her that he wasn’t that kind of killer. He never played with his food. He simply killed. Quickly. Efficiently. It was this primary detail that had separated him from the others they’d tracked through the desert. Lilah had spent a long time trying to reconcile the horrific stories of his kind with the level headed determination and strategic planning of their leader.

Brasa shook his head, “Not for me.”

Purposefully stretching her jaw open, Lilah felt annoyance spark in a way that she couldn’t quite get a handle on, “Well, get over it. If you’re going to kill me, do it.”

He bared his teeth, a light chuckle escaping as he crossed his arms, leaning against the table, “I’m not going to kill you.”

Lilah refused to admit to herself that her eyes lingered a little too long on the shape of his body beneath the heavy leather. She’d seen him from afar a couple times, always either through the lens of a monitor, or the top of a building as she directed traffic for the mission. Lilah knew he was big, knew he was strong. Up close, he was far, far more terrifying. Broad in a way that made her think he could take a serious hit and stand, still in a way that told her he was confident she posed no threat. Which, she didn’t. He had said he wasn’t going to kill her. That left...

Torture. It was going to be torture. Possibly, he wanted information about her partners in crime. Seth had prepped her that they sometimes did that, though it was definitely out of character for him. Lilah couldn’t handle that. She was a thief, a procurer of things, a researcher, a team manager. She wasn’t equipped to handle torture. Fuck that, she’d do this her way.

Quick hands had the burner cell in her hand, her thumb on the speed dial, “Okay, do you know what this is?”

His eyes followed her movement, “A cell phone.”

The slow drawl of the words, the lilt at the end. He was amused. First, pleased. Now, amused. Lilah was neither. God, she hoped Seth had gotten off the roof by now. She wouldn’t be alive to feel guilty about inadvertently killing him.

“Its the detonator for a series of pipe bombs I’ve placed around the foundation of this building. The whole building. I press this button, and everything comes down around us.”

His mouth quirked, “It would take more than that to kill me.”

“But, not me,” Lilah countered. “You won’t get anything out of me if I’m dead.”

Not even bothering to pause for his answer, she dug her thumb into the button, eyes squeezing shut and waiting for the boom. That didn’t happen. She was once again grabbed and bodily moved, air whipping across her face and snatching at her hair. Lilah tried to pull her limbs into her body in a movement borne of instinct, tried to move to protect herself from whatever was happening next. She couldn’t get so much as an inch of leverage.

His arms were in a vice around her, and they were moving at incredible speed through the street outside. She winced as the bombs went off, the sound hitting her in the back as much as it hit her ears. Suddenly, she was dropping down, her weight shifting around and the light completely gone. Around her, she could smell him—coffee and caramel. His scent should not have been in the least bit soothing, but there she was—soothed. His breath was fast, but his muscle showed little to no strain. He moved with more grace than she’d ever seen, full sprint down a dark tunnel carrying her effortlessly.

They came to a stop in...a bunker? Lilah couldn’t get more than a cursory glance around before her brain was reminding her that humans weren’t meant to move that fast. He set her down on a chaise lounge, taking no more than two steps back. Lilah held her head in her hands, trying to ward off the vertigo that was threatening whatever was left of the dinner in her stomach.

“Breathe deeply,” he ordered, sounding just this side of angry, which he had no right to be.

Lilah flipped him the bird. He laughed. She groaned.

“What are you doing?” she said, finally, when her head stopped spinning.

“Saving your life,” he replied, with bite. “Since you’re so ready to give it away.”

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

She sneered, “I didn’t really have a choice about that, did I?”

“Neither do I,” he replied, adding, “It seems.”

Lilah stared at him, her brain a little slow on the uptake, “Well, I’m so glad we’re in the same boat, then.”

Brasa’s face relaxed enough that he looked a little bewildered. Lilah counted that as a win. At the very least, she’d bought herself a few more minutes of time by setting him back on his heels just a bit.

“Are you alright?”

The question startled her, true concern lacing his tone. Lilah narrowed her gaze at him, trying to puzzle out what the fuck he meant. Pleased. Amused. Concerned. None of these things matched up with how she knew he was. How she had always been told he was.

He repeated the question, taking a step forward. Lilah leaned back, tilting her chin up as she studied his expression. He looked like he didn’t know quite what do to do with himself. Lilah didn’t know how to take that.

“What do you want from me?”

Better to get to the point. The faster she knew what he wanted, the faster she could agree (lie) and try to get him to let her go in the process.

He blinked, “What do you know of Xibalban mating practices?”

She sputtered, “The fuck are you talking about?”

Brasa rolled his eyes, “Obviously nothing.”

Think, Lilah. Stall him.

“Well, its not nothing if you’re going to drag me into wherever this is to talk to me about it.”

His eyes dropped to the floor, his tongue rolling across his lips as he considered what she’d said. Lilah had to turn her head to keep from following the motion, her cheeks warming—which made no sense.

Brasa’s eyes returned to hers and she noticed that his irises seemed to contract, the pupils shrinking down so that she could see his actual eye color—a deep brown. Lilah took a deep breath, desperately trying to think of something to say to keep him from killing her long enough for Seth, or Richie to find her.

“You are special,” he stated, as a matter of fact.

Everyone she knew was special. Seth and Richie were special, Kate was special, the bar staff were technically special (and immortal). Lilah was a fixer. Lilah was a good problem solver. Lilah was not special.

“Bullshit,” she replied, unable to keep her mouth from firing off the first thing that went through her head.

He laughed, his chin lifting, head rocking back. Genuine amusement, “That is an appropriate response, I suppose. It is exceedingly rare for a Xibalban to bond with a human.”

Lilah drew back, “Who’s bonding? We’re not bonding? We are miles—leagues—away from bonding.”

Head cocking to the side, Brasa eyes her with curiosity, “I wonder if you know how wrong you are—deep down, of course.”

Feeling suddenly tired, Lilah rubbed at her eyes, feeling desperate in a way that came from long term exhaustion, “Just kill me. Just...kill me. I don’t want any part of your games.”

His face grew still and grave, “No games. You are my bondmate. It is best that you come to terms with that as soon as possible.”

Bondmate.

Lilah had heard this term a few times, usually when talking with Kate. She described it as something akin to a soulmate, a relationship that was deeper than love, bordering on obsession—especially for...Lilah drew in another breath.

“That can’t be true.”

He shrugged, an elegant motion, “It is. Not believing in it doesn’t make it any less true.”

Try as she might, Lilah could not detect an ounce of deceit in him, and she was pretty good at that. Her mouth tightened as she attempted to think of a way out and coming up short. She’d have to play his game, if she wanted to live.

“And,” she said carefully, “What are you going to do about that?”

He considered it for a moment, “You’ll have to come with me.”

Out of the question.

“Come with you,” Lilah repeated lowly. Then, “I can’t do that.”

Brows lifting, he asked, “Why not?”

“Because I have a life,” she shot back, frustrated. “Because I have a job, and obligations, and people who depend on me.”

She was exaggerating just the tiniest bit. She didn’t have a life, not really. But, she did have a job, obligations, and people (three people, really).

He shifted his weight, “I know the feeling. Intimately.”

There were a few moments of silence. Each of them looking at the other, drawing conclusions. Lilah could see strain in his posture, leashed ferocity in the utter stillness of his body. He wanted to move. He wanted to do something. He wasn’t, for some reason. He was standing a few feet away from her, just waiting.

“Let’s say,” Lilah offered, thinking she might be able to negotiate, “That I accept that I am your bondmate. Is there a way for me to go back to my people, and still—I don’t know—act...as… a bondmate?”

She hated how timid she sounded, how unsure. But, she thought the question legitimate enough that he might consider it, might give in. If this was true—and that was a big ‘if’--there was no way he was going to be able to hurt her. He couldn’t. It was impossible that he could kill her. Kate had said so.

When he didn’t answer, Lilah gestured to the room around them, “Where are we?”

He moved, she flinched. He stilled.

“Its an old hideout. Unused for maybe half a century, possibly forgotten.”

She nodded, “Okay. And you know about it because…?”

One side of his mouth lifted, “I built it, a long time ago.”

Lilah nodded again, looking at the walls, the masonry cut so tightly together that it couldn’t have been mechanical. This place was old. Very old. Old as balls.

“Its good work,” she murmured, her hands curling on the lounge beneath her.

The cushion was still intact, but the fabric was beginning to fray. It was at least fifty, possibly sixty years old. The wood looked hand carved. There were a few boxes scattered around, but the room was mostly empty.

Brasa dipped his head in acknowledgment of her compliment, “There is a way that I could send you back.”

Lilah perked up, “I’m listening.”

He took a step forward, “I would need to know that you are safe at all times. I can’t be distracted by how human you are, how fragile.”

Lulled by the idea that she might come out of this unscathed, Lilah motioned for him to continue. He licked his lips, hesitating only a moment.

“I would need to initiate the bond.”

She felt her mouth purse, felt her shoulders tighten up, “How would you do that?”

He knelt in front of her, a simple and smooth motion, “A simple blood exchange. Yours for mine.”

There was nothing simple about a blood exchange. It was never, ever simple. She had to tread lightly.

Heart picking up, she whispered, “You want to bite me?”

Brasa shook his head, producing a blade from somewhere on his person, “I wouldn’t need to. A little cut would be all it would take, to start the process.”

She swallowed, “And, you’ll let me go.”

A small, fervent hope built inside her that she might be able to gain some traction. Blood exchanges may not be a little thing, but Lilah might be able to manage it. All told, a little bloodletting was a very small price to pay—if he happened to be right and they did initiate the bond, she would have to figure out a way to deal with that, eventually. Bloodletting. Wiggle room. Escape.

He nodded, his expression so sincere that she had no choice but to believe him.

Before she could change her mind, Lilah held out her arm to him, “Go ahead.”

For half a second, he looked surprised, but he quickly grasped her forearm, pushing back the sleeve of her shirt and pressing the blade into her skin. It was sharp enough that it took a second or two for the pain to kick in. She hissed as he brought her arm to his mouth, sucking gently at the wound. It was an odd feeling. Her body was telling her ‘danger’, but her brain was telling her to hold still, lest he sink his teeth into her.

He was warm—hot, even. His whole body radiated heat that burned even through the gloves on his hands. Lilah sucked in a breath as he ran his tongue over the cut, a spark of pleasure rising along the little prick of pain. Abashed, she looked anywhere but where his mouth was pressed intimately to her skin.

Very carefully, his tongue swiped once more over the little cut, his palm coming up to apply pressure. Lilah bit her lip, taken aback by the bliss on his face. At this distance, she could see the way his skin glowed a little in the low light, could see his eyelashes sweeping against his cheek as he blinked dreamily at her.

Seeming to catch himself, Brasa quickly shrugged an arm out of his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeve, slicing into himself like it was nothing. Lilah hesitated, her mouth open, her breaths coming in hard.

“Only a mouthful,” he prompted, “That’s all it will take.”

Leaning down, Lilah pressed her mouth to the bleeding skin, her body resisting the urge to draw it in and swallow. Eyes closing, she forced herself to work against her own instinct, applying a little suction and pulling him across her tongue. Only a mouthful. That’s all she allowed, jerking away and making herself push it down her throat.

She wished she hadn’t done that. Lilah wished for all the world that he’d just snapped her neck in this dingy little room underneath the street. The sweetness of him, the utter honey still coating the inside of her mouth, was enough to make her want to die right there. She definitely never wanted to do that again just as much as she desperately needed more. Her tongue touched that back of her teeth, licking at the remnants so that she could taste him just a moment longer.

He swallowed audibly, “What’s your name?”

“Lilah,” she answered, brain too foggy to lie.

“I am Brasa,” he offered lowly.

She blinked, “I know.”

Brasa watched her for a few moments before standing, offering her his hand. Lilah ignored it, rising to her feet and moving around him.

“You said I could go.”

He stared at her, “I did say that.” And then, “I’ll take you to the surface.”

#from dusk til dawn #from dusk til dawn: the series #brasa #In the Bond

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fanfictrashdump · 3 years

Text

Queening a Pawn, 22

If you’re new: this is my procrastination fic. It is what I drabble around with when I’m being my worst self, and ignoring all my other WIPs and responsibilities! Enjoy!

Summary: During the Time Heist, Loki stole the Tesseract and escaped. He did not expect, however, to be pulled through a Time Loop that delivered him to a Midgard more than a decade older, wiser, and bitterer. Having just lived through his unsuccessful attack in New York, Loki must learn to live in Midgard after the defeat of Thanos (post-Endgame). The question is, who is Loki without a quest for a throne or total domination?

Pairings: Loki x OC

WARNINGS: Language, fighting, swords, impending doom, nervous throwing up, and entirely fictional traditions that are just... so dumb.

It was the clinking noise of metal on metal that caught her attention first. The situation pretty much snowballed from there, but the noise was the first indication.

Delilah had been busy staring at her computer. She was finishing her fiscal year end reports, much to her utter dismay. The only glittering spot in her day had been the unusual side effect from Loki and hers exchange of jewelry. Throughout the day, Delilah would get sucked in by the pleasant buzz in the back of her skull when Loki had a particularly strong emotion. The god could make all of the excuses he wanted about how he felt nonchalant about the children, but the utter fondness that flooded her system most of her work day was the only indication that he was a big fat liar. She had been in the midst of a most pleasant flood of endorphin-filled fondness when the noise pulled her out of her head. Her name in a shout followed immediately after.

"Delilah Vázquez!"

When Delilah glanced up from the copier, she was greeted by the sight of Brunnhilde, in her full Asgardian royal armor and Uru crown. In her hand, she wielded a broadsword, though Dragonfang was sheathed on her hip. The tip of the sword swayed ominously towards her, the warrioress staring her down with intimidating focus. Delilah didn't exactly noticed when she started running, but she was damn sure she was not going to stop.

"DELILAH!"

Pumping her arms, she continued running down the corridor a good thirty paces ahead of Valkyrie. She hated admitting it, but the occasional workout Loki made her do with him was probably the only reason she wasn't a panting, sweaty mess being skewered on the end of a broadsword right now. Lilah knew that she needed to get to the common room. Sam and Bucky had returned from another mission two days ago, so they were probably taking it easy for the next few days. If she could find them–clunk clunk

The heavy footsteps were gaining on her as she skidded into the living room. Bucky jumped, startled out of his nap by the ruckus. He noted only the blurred outline of Delilah running past and ducking behind his chair, but when he finally saw Valkyrie, he took up a defensive pose.

"Out of my way Barnes!" Valkyrie grumbled through clenched teeth. "I came a long way for this, this armor is killing me. Move!"

"Are you out of your damn mind!?"

"Now, Barnes!" When he remained rooted to the spot, she half-heartedly swung the sword in his direction. He parried the blow with his modified arm, engaging her into close combat while Delilah slipped away in the background.

Her escape was not unseen, though Bucky did his best to keep the Asgardian King at bay before he was knocked through several doors with a well-placed kick of her armored boot.

Delilah backed into one of the empty storage rooms. She clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound of her labored breathing. Maybe if she was quiet enough, and kept to the walls, the Valkyrie would think she had run out the emergency staircase. Her hope was short lived, however, the door to the storage room was kicked open with a boom. Quiet as could be, Lilah lowered herself between two empty rows of metal shelves and closed her eyes tightly. And for a moment, her plan was working.

"There you are!"

Emerald eyes snapped open to see the figure of Valkyrie backlit by the harsh, white light of the storage room bulbs. Trembling, Delilah began crawling backwards, mentally calculating her probabilities of making it out before Brunnhilde caught up to her.

A clatter made her start. At her feet, Valkyries sword, Dragonfang, shook and settled while it emitted a harmonious hum. Delilah looked from the sword to the King for a mite too long, it seemed. "Pick it up! Full armor chafes!"

"I-I don't know how–"

"Pick it up and fight me! My laws demand it for satisfaction!" With tentative movements, she grasped the pommel and closed her hand around the grip. "Oh, Norns your grip is fucking awful. Who taught you to swordfight?"

"No one! I don't know how!" Delilah snapped back, lifting the point of the sword off the ground. Her free hand went up to the runic medallions resting on her collarbone. For a protective talisman, they weren't doing a hell of a lot in the way of protecting.

Valkyrie rolled her eyes and raised her own weapon. "You and I will have short battle for the purpose of satisfying our ancient laws in regards to trysts with members of the Royal Family. Do you understand what is required of you? Yes? Great, let's begin."

Before Delilah could even protest that this wasn't being fair to her, Valkyrie had swept her weapon straight down, meeting Dragonfang in her grasp and making her arm shudder all the way to her marrow. With a yelp, Delilah jumped back, trying as hard as she could to avoid the Asgardian's blows. She had successfully pushed the King back and made a short run for it before Valkyrie leapt and landed just short of blocking her path.

The thought that she was going to die crossed Delilah's brain at that instant. As sudden as that realization was to hit her, so was the wispy green smoke to surround her body in a nearly solid mass. It quickly swirled around her before disappearing to a place she thought was in her chest, if the sudden pain was any indication. Valkyrie's eyes darkened, and charged for Delilah, sword raised. Delilah crossed her own weapon in front of her and her free hand braced itself for the incoming attack in front of her.

Just as the blow was to connect, the pain in Lilah's chest exploded outward through her arm. Her open palm, facing Valkyrie and waiting for impact, spewed a dense ball of that same wispy, green smoke that knocked Brunnhilde off her feet. She flew several yards back and landed with a loud thunk on the concrete floor.

"What the fuck is going on!?"

Loki's booming voice was so welcome that Delilah thought she might sob. Actually, she did, because Loki was by her side and wiping her tears away with his thumbs a moment later. He wrapped an arm around her, trying to soothe the violent trembling that was making her teeth knock together painfully. He pried her fingers off the grip of Valkyries sword and reassured her in soft murmurs that she was OK and that she was in no danger.

"I yield. Oh, Frigga in Valhalla, dearest. I yield," Valkyrie gasped, pulling herself back onto her feet.

"What the fuck is going on, Valkyrie?" He repeated, though his voice was low and sounded poisonous.

Brunnhilde pulled a face, rolling her eyes. "What do you mean, what the fuck is going on? You know our laws, Loki. She is not a member of the court and since you've endeavored to make it quite clear that you are both alive and in love with her, she needs to ascend."

Loki stared blankly at the King for a few minutes, no noise being made among the three, before he drew an extraordinarily long breath. "I know that. She does not."

"So?"

His response was perfectly enunciated, each syllable dripping vitriol unlike any Delilah had ever heard. "She thought you were attempting to kill her, you empty-headed troll." His arm gripped Lilah tightly and pressed her securely into his side. She was still trembling, though she had stopped crying. He assumed that the shock was just settling in. They needed to be careful before–

Splat.

"Oops?" Valkyrie looked contrite, especially considering that Delilah was now hunched over, emptying her stomach of any and all contents in the space that existed between the three. "You would think a civilized society would at least teach all of their members to fight properly! She was acting as if it was her first time battling with swords."

"It was… You've been living in Midgard for a long time. How did you not notice they don't swordfight anymore?" With a scoff, he handed a surly Valkyrie back her sword, which she promptly sheathed at her hip.

"Can I at least finish so I can take this ridiculous court armor off?" Loki's eyes cut across with a darkened glare. "She's already doubled over!" He nodded reluctantly and allowed Valkyrie to touch the top of Delilah's head with the flat of her blade. The Midgardian gasped and tensed again and would have continued to be sick were it not for Loki's hand smoothing down her back. "After brave battle, you have earned your place in court. Blah blah blah. I guess you can continue seeing Loki, though the Norns only know why you would choose to do so." Brunnhilde bent over and caught Delilah's eyes, dulled by fear and exhaustion. "Could you do the fist thing really quick?"

With a delirious laugh, Delilah thumped her closed fist over her heart, nearly sobbing when the Asgardian put her arm around her and helped her straighten. "Could you have not sent a message ahead or literally anything before chasing me down wiTH A DAMN SWORD, VALKYRIE!?"

Valkyrie shrugged. "I really did think you guys had better battle training than this. Sorry." The group stepped over Delilah's mess and took back to the corridors. Bucky had been patrolling like a mad man in search for Valkyrie before Loki had told him that he was on it. As they moved past him, Lilah offered him a thumb's up and a thank you. "Did you make her that seidr pendant, Snakeboy?"

Loki helped Delilah sink into one of the chairs in her living quarters, anxiously brushing her hair out of her eyes. "Yes. Did it hurt?"

"Like you wouldn't believe!"

"Good," he replied, deadpan, and Delilah could tell he really meant it. Shortly, he placed a bottle of Gatorade in front of her and kissed her crown. "Drink. You need it." His fingers loosened the chain around her neck and closed it in his fist. "I will bring this right back. Evidently, I need to add a warning for idiot Asgardians on it," he offered before blipping out of existence in her flat.

Valkyrie had pulled off all the heavy, metal armor off her body and sighed with satisfaction. "Did you really think I wanted to kill you?"

"Yes! You only yelled my name and that you demanded satisfaction. I had no clue what was going on."

"I guess not the best warning, I'll admit, but I'd never hurt you. You're the only one in this hell hole I can stand." The Valkyrie nudged Delilah in the ribs until she let out a laugh. When Loki returned, they were sitting on the couch, one arm around each other's waist, giggling. He wasted no time in reattaching the necklace with an adoring smile.

"Since when do you care about tradition and protocols?" Loki asked, offhandedly, sitting on the coffee table opposite Delilah with her free hand in his.

Brunnhilde rolled her eyes. "Since several ladies took offense that they were not informed of the fact that you were alive and demanded tradition be upheld. They're desperate to rise the ranks and go back to being courtesans."

"It's no secret I've never been the preferred prince. So, why bother?"

The warrior sighed. "Because even power and title from the dark prince is still power and title. They'll do anything to grab their share. Now, they can't."

"I'm not in line to serve, though. And it'll be a cold day in hell before I willingly go to New Asgard to live, so it's a moot point." He ran him thumb over the back of Delilah's hand. "Not to mention, I wouldn't take them. Can't exactly marry me by force."

"They'd try," Delilah and Valkyrie replied in unison.

"From what I've read, they've downgraded from a futuristic paradise to a cold strip of land by the sea. It's hard to forget thousands of years worth of privilege. Especially if you've lived the thousands of years." Delilah shrugged. "I don't blame them."

"I'm spoken for," he argued, his lips twitching just the barest bit upwards.

"Well, now you are. You're welcome, by the way," Brunnhilde grumbled, stretching out with a sigh before hopping to her feet. "I have duties to attend to, so I will see you later. My Prince. Princess."

Delilah frowned, watching Valkyrie toss her armor over her shoulder and close the door behind her with a slam. "Princess? There's a new nickname. Can't say it's my favorite."

Loki grinned widely, resting his head on his free hand, propped on his thigh. "You've got no clue what you did today, do you?"

"I don't exactly study Asgardian history in my free time, Lo." There was a long pause before she tacked on, "Why?"

"The challenge you fought was for position in the court as a member of equal measure to the Royal Family."

"I don't follow."

His eyes glittered in mirth. "I'm not surprised. It will make sense soon enough." He leaned forward and kissed her lightly. "Nonetheless, you will always be my Queen in all that matters, Princess. Though getting rid of the Valkyrie would be an easy enough task, should you desire to ascend."

With another kiss, he mentioned something about going to get her some more Gatorade. The words sunk slowly into Delilah's adrenaline-drowned brain. "Wait, are you telling me she just made me a Princess? Like an honest to god, I could have my own Disney movie, Princess? Loki?!"

#Loki #Loki MCU #Loki (Marvel)#MCU #MCU fanfiction #MCU fanfic #Loki x oc #Loki x ofc #alternate timeline #time heist #not Loki show compliant #Queening a Pawn

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astralaffairs · 4 years

Text

put a ring on it 03 | philip hamilton

title: put a ring on it

pairing: philip hamilton x reader

words: 11k 🤪

warnings: rlly none! hectic families, stupid pet names, uncomfy emotions, compromising positions. also dont any of u dare get as close to another human as is depicted here anytime soon. pls flatten the curve. social distancing is cool i swear.

a/n: lmao remember on part 2 when i said i wouldn’t take as long to update this time? here we are, almost exactly a year later, even tho i wrote 8k words of this in the past couple days. enjoy!!! better late than never ig.

desc: You’ve never liked Philip Hamilton, and have always assumed the feeling has been mutual. But when you’re roped into pretending to be his girlfriend for a family reunion, you feel all your truths beginning to melt away, and find them instead taking form in his smile.

tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @superbarriobrothers @tf2germanvillain @ela-ena @abundant-stars @heytheredee-lilah @abovethyfold - lmk if you want to be added; sorry if i missed anyone!!

Philip had brought you coffee without you asking.

It was mid-morning after your shower; the carpet of Philip's room was soft under your feet as you grabbed your phone off the marble countertop of his sink, just enjoying the peaceful silence. You scrolled briefly through your texts, smiling as you declined an offer for a manufactured emergency from Patsy (not before you seriously considered it, though). You slid it into your back pocket before padding down the stairs to find wherever Philip had gotten off to.

And thus, you were met with the distinctly strong smell of coffee.

Your footsteps stalled only a moment. You furrowed your brow; the corners of your lips quirked as you continued into his kitchen. You found him sitting at the end of the table opposite where you stood, glasses pushed down the bridge of his nose, reading a newspaper and sipping coffee from a paper cup. Your smile grew as he didn't even realize you were there; you leaned forward, resting on the chair nearest you as you bit your lip.

"Hey." Your voice was soft as he looked up, giving you a soft smile as he met your eyes.

"Morning, princess," he hummed, taking another sip from his cup as he eyed you, his eyes crinkling at the corners with his smile. "How'd you sleep?"

"Pretty well." Your yawn came through in your voice despite your words, and he nodded, averting his eyes back to his paper. Neither of you dared mention how you'd woken up tangled in each other, your legs intertwined with his, hands in his hair and with his arms wrapped loosely around your waist, your head against his bare chest. Instead, you broke the silence with, "So, you gonna share any of that coffee with me, Hamilton? Or were you just gonna ignore these bags under my eyes?"

You pointed to yourself with mock annoyance, and he chuckled, putting down the newspaper. "What, you don't think I picked up anything for my girlfriend?" He raised an eyebrow, and you rolled your eyes, slumping into the seat opposite him.

"Oh yeah? What'd you get me?" Your tone was flat as you pinned him with a skeptical stare. He only grinned, leaning back and grabbing another paper cup from the counter behind him. You raised your eyebrows, eyes widening in the slightest. It probably shouldn't have come as a shock to you, but you couldn't help your surprise at the gesture.

He chuckled at your expression. "I can't believe you'd underestimate me like this." He put a hand on his heart with a mock pout as he passed the coffee across the table to you, and you took a seat, rolling your eyes.

"What's the catch?" you asked dryly.

"Does there have to be a catch?"

"Last time you brought me coffee I ended up here." You raised your eyebrows, looking at him knowingly, and he chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"Alright, I get it. Point made." He grinned as he reached again behind him, grabbing a small brown bag and holding it out to you by its rolled opening. "But I brought you a croissant to make up for it."

Your eyebrows shot up when you saw the other bag, eyes widening in the least. "Coffee and food? Now there's definitely something up." You shot him a questioning look, and his obvious self-content didn't waver.

"Think of it as a "thank you'." Your skepticism far from dissipated, but something in the soft smile he wore made you take the bag from him with no further questions, a soft smile of your own gracing your lips.

You breathed in the warm, sweet air from the bag as you opened it, sighing at the smell of the croissant. As you broke a piece of it off, you looked up at him with an eyebrow raised. "So anyway, where's your family? House seems eerily empty."

He chuckled, raking a hand through his loose curls. "Yeah, it is. My siblings are all still at school for the next couple hours, and Mom and Pops are out getting breakfast with the Lafayettes. Said something about wanting to 'give the happy couple some time to themselves'."

You rolled your eyes. "So no one else is home?"

"So we're finally alone." He wiggled his eyebrows at you suggestively, and you scoffed.

"Just 'cause you brought me a croissant doesn't mean I'm about to jump your bones, Hamilton. Don't get your hopes up," you informed him dryly, but his amused grin didn't waver.

"Since we have the day free, though," he continued just as brightly, ignoring your unimpressed expression, "I figured I'd show you around the town a little, take you a few of the places I used to go."

You raised a brow. "Oh, yeah? I'm getting the grand tour?" A smile had at that point worked it's way back into your expression, sitting slightly lopsided as it played at your lips, though you tried to contain it. "Where are you gonna take me, Hamilton?"

His grin grew at your words, taking another sip of his coffee to hide his self-content. "You'll see."

-----------------------------------

"Where are we going?" you groaned as he tugged you around another corner in the quaint downtown of his small city. His grin never faltered; he seemed very much to have a set agenda. There were people and places he wanted to see. Seeing as this was his family reunion weekend, you couldn't have blamed him.

"C'mon, we're on the block now," he assured you, pulling you along in his haste to find the little storefront, wondering if it had yet changed the aging display in its frosted glass windows. You scoffed audibly, and he let out a little laugh. "What, don't believe me?"

"You'll forgive me for not trusting the eighth time you've told me we were almost there," you said dryly, letting him pull you along regardless. He shot you a look over his shoulder.

"No need to exaggerate, princess."

"Don't think I haven't been counting, Hamilton," you shot back, giving him a pointed look, and he rolled his eyes.

"Just come on."

You (grudgingly) allowed him to drag you along three more blocks, unsure what had overtaken you -- your feet were getting sore, your stomach was starting to cramp (you needed to work out more), and you really just wanted to sit down. Yet, something about how earnestly excited Philip was managed to keep you going, just a few more yards, just a few more yards. You tried to ignore the lopsided grin thrown over his shoulder and the teasing lilt to his voice that met your complaints.

"Here we are." He skidded to a halt in front of three stairs, a stone stoop, leading up to a glass door. You raised an eyebrow, turned your gaze to him.

"Where, exactly?"

His smile grew, and he nodded forward. "See for yourself."

You rolled your eyes as you followed him up, and he reached for the handle just before you, holding it open. You didn't acknowledge the action, just continued forward into the small shop.

It was an adorable space, dimly lit and colorful. Leafy plants spilled over from pots above the windows, contrasting with the bright red window frames on the sunny morning, interspersed with framed photos and paintings packed tightly together on the limited wall space. Soft guitar music drifted through under the buzz of chattering customers who'd arrived for their morning coffee. You could smell the coffee brewing behind the counter, the scent mixing with the sweeter one wafting from the ovens behind a swinging door.

"C'mon." You yelped in surprise as Philip's arm found its way around your waist, and he shot you an amused glance. You let him lead you forward, though, fighting the heat that began to rise in the back of your neck.

You neared the back of the store together, your gaze still wandering around the adorable coffee shop as you walked, and as the woman behind the counter caught sight of you, her eyes lit up in recognition.

"Philip!" She dropped the rag she'd been wiping her hands with onto the counter, rushing out from behind it to greet him as his arm came back around from your waist, instead pulling her into a tight embrace. You sighed internally as his warmth left your side.

"Hey, Aunt Maria," he said, grinning as he pulled back from the hug. "How've you been?"

"Worse without you," she scolded, whacking his chest lightly. "It's been what, four years since you've been home? Felt like an eternity."

He laughed, eyes still shining as he spoke to her. "Yeah, it's been too long. I've just been so busy."

Maria scoffed and promptly turned her attention to you, clearly not caring for any excuses for Philip's absence. "And who is this?"

“I’m Y/N,” you started, your smile unsure. At this, Philip also turned his gaze back to where you stood, grin growing on his face. “His girlfriend.”

Her face lit up again at this, immediately pulling you into a bone-crushing embrace. "Oh, you're the pretty thing I've been hearing about from Philip's parents for so long? It's so great to meet you."

You laughed as she finally pulled away, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. "I guess that must be me, unless there's another woman, hm?" You raised an eyebrow at Philip, grinning, and he just rolled his eyes. "It's good to meet you too, though."

Philip rested a hand on Maria's shoulder as she released your forearms, an affectionate look in his eyes as he glanced down at her. "Aunt Maria's an old family friend, Y/N. Pops helped her out of a tough spot when I was younger, and we’ve forced her to stick around with us ever since."

She smiled, putting a hand on his as she looked over at you. "I owe the Hamiltons big. They really changed my life a while back, helped me get away from my ex-husband, start a new life on my own. Can't thank them enough, honestly."

Philip rolled his eyes at that, giving a dramatic huff. "You owe us nothing. You’re all we need."

"Then stop spending so much time in the city!" she lectured him, giving a shell of a glare, and he laughed.

"I'll keep it in mind."

She glanced back at the counter over her shoulder, where her employees were still diligently taking orders, making coffee. "Anyway, I've gotta get back to work, but can I get you two a cup of coffee? Donuts? Crêpes?"

Philip looked at you as he came back around, pulled you softly to his side with an arm around your waist and a raised eyebrow. You gave Maria a warm smile.

"Just a coffee would be great."

"Same for me, then," Philip added, and Maria winked at the two of you as she made her way back to the counter.

"Two coffees coming right up for the happy couple. Feel free to have a seat anywhere," she called to you over her shoulder, and you grinned.

"Wanna sit down?" Philip asked, and you pursed your lips, pinching the hand that was squeezing your waist. He yelped, withdrew his arm from you with a wince, and you nodded and gave an easy smile.

"Let's go by the window."

He rolled his eyes as he followed you. You slid comfortably into one of the smooth wooden seats, glancing out at the sunny morning before you, and he sat across, an eyebrow raised.

"So, what do you think of my hometown so far?"

You looked back at him wearing a soft, mischievous smile and cocked an eyebrow at him. "You really wanna know?"

He fixed his stare on yours, and your grin grew (though you tried to suppress it). "Yeah."

"It'd be better without you here."

He scoffed loudly at that, turning his head from where he had sat facing you, his grin near indistinguishable in his indignant expression, and you couldn't suppress your full-bodied laugh at his reaction.

"C'mon, really?" While he tried to maintain his scowl, turning back to you had his smile widening at your repressed giggles. He fixed a glare over his gaze as you tried to swallow your grin. "God damn, I ask you a legitimate question, and you can't resist ripping on me?"

"It was just too easy!" you defended, brushing your hair away from your face as you looked sheepishly back at where he sat, shaking his head. "Honestly, though?"

"I dunno, am I gonna get an honest answer?"

You knew very well his skeptical expression was well-earned, and you grinned, rolling your eyes as you defended yourself. "Yes!"

He shrugged, motioning to the space between you, a silent go-ahead. You sighed.

"It's really nice." You glanced around the coffee shop as you spoke, your eyes ultimately finding his again, though now a dreamy look was painted across your features. "It's... homey."

"'Homey'?" he repeated your answer with a breathy laugh, and you rolled your eyes, playfully shoving the arm he had resting on the table.

"See, this is why I don't take your questions seriously, Hamilton," you scowled, feeling your face begin to grow hot at his reaction. "Give you an answer and you just make fun of me."

He chuckled as he reached for your hands, still resting on the table as the heat did not subside from the back of your neck. He took them in his, enveloping them as he gave you a simper. "Aw, c'mon, I'm not trying to tease you." His simper turned to a mocking pout, and you scoffed, rolled your eyes.

"Oh, whatever, Hamilton." You didn't pull your hands out of his grasp, though, refusing out of sheer spite to meet his eyes.

"I'm not kidding!" he defended himself, and you could see out of the corner of your eye the grin return to his face, seemingly entertained by your reaction. You were a bit preoccupied, though, with inhibiting the blush from your cheeks as you couldn't seem to focus on anything other than, God, how warm his hands were. You were painstakingly aware of every time they shifted against yours.

"'M glad you feel at home in my old town." Your annoyed gaze was still fixed on the table before you as you heard him let out a sigh, dropping his face to break your line of vision. "Princess?"

"Don't call me that, Hamilton."

He deadpanned. "Y/N."

You met his eyes with an expectant look, and for a moment, you just held his stare, almost didn't notice when your breath caught as the corners of his lips quirked upward. You frowned.

His grin only grew at your adverse reaction, breath coming out in a puff of laughter. He shook his head, tongue in cheek. "Loosen up."

The way he squeezed your hands reminded you how close the proximity between the two of you was. You could feel your heart jump in your chest. When his thumb smoothed over your knuckle, you felt suddenly very self-conscious about how sweaty your hands were.

You took a deep breath, feeling unable to hold his gaze any longer, looking out the window beside you. Thankfully, Maria chose that exact moment to arrive with your drinks.

"Two black coffees, right up!" You froze when you met her beaming expression, flinching as you almost tried to yank your hands from Philip's, feeling like a deer in headlights. He squeezed your hands softly, his expression concerned at how panicked you looked. You plastered on a smile, reminding yourself as your face heated up that you were there as his girlfriend, this was supposed to be normal, it was expected. What made you uncomfortable was exactly how normal it felt.

"Thanks, Maria." You withdrew your hands with a smile to take your coffee from her. You ignored her raised eyebrow, her pleased half-smile.

"You sure there's nothing else I can get you?" The maternal look in her eyes turned playful as she folded her arms. "Anything else to drink? Some lunch?" Her eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch. "Some privacy?"

You choked on the long sip of coffee you'd been taking, trying to catch your breath as Philip just laughed. You set the mug down as you coughed into the back of your hand, trying to stifle it.

"I think this'll be all for now," he said, "We probably aren't gonna loiter too much longer, don't worry."

Maria gave him a warm smile, a smile you only caught a glimpse of as you emerged from your coughing fit. (You also caught a glimpse of Philip suppressing a laugh at you, and made a mental note to chew him out for it later on.)

"You know you could spend forever here and I wouldn't mind."

"I know." You couldn't help but notice that his smile in return didn't quite meet his eyes; something melancholy lay behind them as well.

As she pursed her lips, you thought her expression looked quite a bit like your mother's when you left for college, almost tearing up, but holding it together for you. "Well, let me know before you all leave," she said softly, "You know I don't see enough of you around here as is."

"I know. We'll see you tomorrow, though? At the reunion?"

"Wouldn't miss it." The quiet sadness in her eyes disappeared as quickly as it came, and she reached down to squeeze your shoulder affectionately. "Looking forward to seeing the both of you there." Her wink before she turned away was blatant. You couldn't help your soft smile.

------------------------------

"So, when do I get to meet the rest of your family?" He'd taken you out through the middle of town, refusing to let on to your destination. It was a nice day out, luckily for you, but you still weren't fond of having to reach all your destinations on foot -- if you'd wanted a walking tour, you'd have asked.

He shrugged, hands in his pockets as he walked alongside you down the sidewalk, appreciating the lush greenery that lined the streets, and your gaze rested on his faraway expression as you raised an eyebrow.

"Dunno. Whenever my siblings get home. Angie'll be coming in before they all get outta school, so she might even be there when we get back, but the rest of them have classes for a few more hours."

"'The rest of them'? How many siblings do you have, Hamilton?"

"Just six."

"Six?!" you repeated, eyes wide, and he just nodded.

"Yeah. The youngest is four, that's Eliza, and I'm the oldest."

"How old are the others?"

He pursed his lips, as though deep in thought, and you really couldn't imagine having to strain to remember a sibling's age. "There's William, at seven, then John, who's eleven, James is fifteen and Alex is seventeen -- they're the ones in high school right now -- and then there's Angelica, who's nineteen."

You couldn't help but let out a low whistle at that. "Sounds exhausting for your parents."

"Really. I was the easy child, and it was all downhill from there." He grinned, and you rolled your eyes.

"You were the easy child? Tell me why I find that hard to believe." Your challenging tone just made him shrug.

"Dunno, princess. I've just always been so responsible that my parents had an easy time with me."

"And at what point did you lose the responsibility trait?"

"I mean, when I found out I could pawn off all my responsibilities onto you..." He trailed off with a grin, laughing when he saw your glare. "Aw, c'mon, I'm just kidding."

"What, about being responsible? Or about pawning your responsibilities off on me?" You raised a skeptical eyebrow as he shrugged. "Because we both know it's not the latter."

"Hey, let's not forget that you're here because you didn't wanna take on a responsibility."

"A responsibility you pawned off on me!" You scoffed, and his amused smile only grew, hands stuffed in his pockets as you walked alongside him.

"Why must you be so focused on pointing fingers, Y/N?"

"I'm not pointing fingers, you just--"

"We're here." You skidded to a halt as he cut off your rant at it's beginning, too absorbed in your argument (despite how obviously he was baiting you) to have realized he stopped walking. You raised an eyebrow, turning to face exactly what he was looking at, and while he began walking in without a second thought, you paused a moment, taking it in.

What stood before you was the oldest building you'd seen so far in town, its structure essentially in ruins, ivy crawling up the eroding brick, moss running down it. The only thing that tipped you off to the fact that you weren't being lead to a remote location where no one could hear your screams was a small metal sign above a descending staircase, a single light above the path. By the time the full sight had processed, Philip had since reached the staircase and was watching your reaction with an eyebrow raised, a soft smile gracing his lips.

"You coming?"

You exhaled. "See, I'm not trying to make any accusations, but all I'm saying is that if I were to murder someone in this town, this would be the place for it."

You followed him, though, as he grinned at your hesitance, and what you found at the bottom of the staircase was far from what you'd expected. You entered behind Philip into a sleek but old-fashioned bar, somehow teetering on the line between an antiquated tavern and a nightclub. Your eyes were wide as you scanned the place, empty at the moment, save one person standing behind the bar, wiping down glasses. The chairs were up on the tables, the televisions were shut down -- you assumed Philip hadn't brought you there for drinks, but instead for the handsome stranger who had just caught Philip's eye with a growing grin.

"Philip Hamilton?" he called out the moment the door shut behind us, his disbelieving smile echoed in Philip's reaction. "Never thought I'd see the day. Thought you'd abandoned us all for city living by now."

Philip let out a huff of laughter as he reached the counter, pulling the man in for a hug over the bar. "Whatever, man. I don't wanna hear it." He pulled back with a skeptical look in his eye, holding him by the forearms. "It's been two years since I've been home, but I've never gone three damn months without seeing you since college."

"Touché. It's good to have you back." With that, though, the man's gaze flickered over to you, eyeing your form with an eyebrow raised, a small but triumphant smile. "But you've still managed to keep your lady from me ever since you and her got together. Afraid I was gonna steal her?"

"More afraid she'd meet my friends and immediately run for the hills," Philip snorted, causing the other man to shove him lightly from across the counter.

"Anyway, I take it you're Y/N?" He seemed to be ignoring Philip's jab at him in favor of redirecting the conversation from him.

"That'd be me," you said as you went to join Philip, smile wary and your hands tucked in your pockets.

When you reached the bar, he narrowed his eyes, leaning down to eye you skeptically. "Tell me, how much is Philip paying you? Hm?" Your eyebrows shot up, and he continued, "I mean, we both know he has the money to be battin' above his league, but I didn't think he'd be willing to fork over that much just for a weekend."

While his manner had you hesitant at first, his words made you laugh. If this was what Philip's friends were like, the weekend might go by quicker than you'd expected.

"This is actually pro bono," you sighed, raising your eyebrows as though you were confiding in him. "I've always been a bit of a philanthropist, so I took pity and decided to help out the less fortunate--" You gave Philip a pointed look, though he just rolled his eyes. His entertained smile betrayed his feigned annoyance. "--for a few days."

"You really are a saint."

"I consider myself more of a martyr." While his friend laughed, Philip raised an eyebrow at you, expression toeing the line between amused and exasperated. You extended your hand. "It's great to meet you, though, um..."

"Georges Lafayette," he supplied, shaking your hand. "I'm an old friend."

"Ahh, so that's you," you folded your arms, smile growing. You stole a glance to your right, and Philip was busy feigning shock that you'd actually listened to his friends-and-family crash course. When he met your gaze, you rolled your eyes. "Philip speaks fondly of you, regardless of how he may speak to you." There was a teasing lilt to the tail end of your sentence, and while Philip scoffed, Georges cracked a grin.

"Hope he's been doing me justice." He sent you a wink as he went back to wiping down the rims of the glasses that sat before him, pulling them from the dishwasher and shelving them. "Knowing him, I'm betting it's nothing compared to how he talks about you, though. Ever since you joined his office, it's been nonstop."

"Oh, really?" You raised an eyebrow at Philip, but he didn't meet your eyes as he took a seat next to you at the bar.

"You'd better bet. You've become something of a household name these past few years."

"Should that worry me?" you teased, electing to sit as well. You hopped up onto the barstool.

"Not this time." He chuckled, nudging Philip where he sat, leaning forward on the bar. "Worried me at the start of the whole thing. I figured he'd immediately fucked this up." He motioned between the two of you. "By the time you got together, I'd already found him three eligible rebounds."

"Aww, babe." You plastered on a teasingly contrived pout, turning to rest a hand on Philip's knee, meeting his unimpressed gaze. "Maybe if you hadn't spent three years pawning your responsibilities off on me, I would've been more receptive to your total lack of tact."

Georges laughed, and you grinned unabashedly as Philip let out a huff devoid of annoyance. "Oh, c'mon; let's not pretend I was the tactless one." The corner of his lips twitched as you raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"Really, now, be honest." You hadn't the slightest clue where this was going, and Philip looked increasingly satisfied with your expression. "You were the one always yelling at me for leaving early, chewing me out for showing up late, finding excuses to come talk to me--"

"We work together," you interjected, unimpressed. Your words didn't seem to hinder his monologue.

"Now that I think about it, is that why you always looked so agitated when Theo came around?" He raised an eyebrow, looking thoroughly pleased, and you ignored the heat creeping up the back of your neck. You chalked it up to annoyance. “I’ve gotta say, jealousy actually is a good look on you.”

"Whatever," you scoffed. "I had to come to talk to you about the projects I was working on because they were the ones you pawned off onto me. And you know Theo has been obnoxious since day one."

He laughed, disregarding your vexation. "I mean, yeah, but she brings me coffee."

You narrowed your eyes, genuinely in disbelief. "Is the fact that you're just using her for coffee supposed to make me feel better?"

"Of course." He shrugged, as though it was obvious, and you caught Georges's amused expression out of the corner of your eye. Philip winked. "You know I've only got eyes for you, princess." You groaned, turning away from him in your chair, not wanting to look at the satisfaction you caught dancing in his eyes. You didn't like how consoled you felt.

You turned to Georges, deadpan. "Has he always been this unbearable? Or did that develop after the manipulative streak kicked in?"

"In our Philip? What manipulative streak?" He furrowed his brow in contrived disbelief. The two men shared a look, their smiles mirroring one another. "But if you wanna know if he's always been this tactful, then for sure."

It appeared Georges had decided to take Philip's side on this one. You groaned internally. "Don't you start now!"

"Sorry, Y/N, Philip claimed my loyalty years ago. You're on your own."

You pinned the pair of them with an accusatory stare, a smile playing on your lips nonetheless. You didn't love that it was turned against you, but you couldn't help but find their rapport entertaining. "You two are insufferable, you know that?"

"We've heard." Georges shrugged.

"Usually from each other," Philip chimed in.

"Or your siblings." Georges glanced at Philip. Neither of them was addressing you anymore.

"Or your ladies," Philip shot back, "Usually your exes by the time we heard it."

"We were always a little hard of hearing, huh?"

"Always. Think we heard that one from Emilie, though." Philip raised his eyebrows, gaze playful. You could only assume that was one of Georges's exes. He huffed.

"You leave my wife outta this!" Indignant was the only word you could use to describe his expression, and Philip snickered as he ducked away from the rag Georges had tried to hit him with.

"You're still lucky she took you back after that."

"She loved me too much not to." He looked smug with that, but his voice had softened. "Anyway, it's your girl we're talking about this time, so you'd better tread carefully. Right, Y/N?" He looked over at you, an eyebrow raised, obviously expecting you to jump on the chance to tease Philip. You folded your arms.

"Oh, so now you're on my side?"

Philip grinned, obviously pleased with your response, whereas Georges groaned. "Hey, I'm tryna balance the scales back out, alright? Didn't wanna let Philip get too cocky, but it looks like you let that one happen anyway."

"Don't you blame me!" You jabbed your finger at him, eyes narrowed. "You took his side first; I didn't take his side at all!"

"Sure seems like you're on his side now." Georges raised his eyebrows at Philip, who looked positively smug.

"I'm against you now. This isn't about him."

He laughed. "Tough. Looks like your girl's already cutting you out, Pip."

Philip's face fell as he grumbled, "Don't call me--"

"You call him Pip?" You hoped your expression came off as endeared. Blatantly finding ways to antagonize him didn't seem like it would've fit your role. "That's adorable!"

"Y/N." His tone was warning. Your grin didn't falter.

"Oh, can I steal that?"

"All yours."

You let out a soft aww, a hand held to your heart, and put your other hand on Georges's forearm. "I can't thank you enough."

Philip stood with a huff, seemingly having had enough of you two. You raised an eyebrow -- were you leaving already? "I'm gonna run to the bathroom," he said, annoyed gaze never breaking from Georges's. "Don't cause too much trouble while I'm gone."

"I dunno, Pip; I was never the responsible one." Georges shrugged innocently, and Philip couldn't seem to help his amusement at his antics. "Do my best, though."

"Can't thank you enough," Philip mocked you to Georges as he turned, walking off toward the back.

Georges called after him, "You're welcome!"

Philip didn't respond, but Georges seemed more amused given that. He turned to you with a grin, leaning on the bar.

"So, Y/N." You raised an eyebrow. "I need to hear more about you; Philip's been holding out on us all these years. Took the entire family to even convince him to bring you home to meet us."

"Then I guess I shouldn't mention how long it took him to convince me to come here, huh?" The words were truer than he knew; however, he interpreted them very differently from the truth. You raised a playful eyebrow, and he laughed.

"That's tough."

"You asked."

"Sort of," he corrected you, brow furrowed, and you grinned.

"No, but really," you started, deciding to actually explain yourself. "We've just been busy, couldn't find a time to get down here together."

"Oh yeah? Been getting a little too busy down in NYC?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively, and you rolled your eyes with a huff.

"You know I didn't mean it like that!" You swatted at his arm, coaxing a laugh from him. "Our schedules just didn't line up. We never had the same weeks or weekends free to get out of the city."

"So this is your first time traveling together?"

"Guess so."

"Try not to kill him before the weekend's up." He winked. You kept quiet; Georges didn't need to know quite how high the odds of that happening really were. "But really, enough about him. Where are you from? Where'd you go to school? When are you and Philip getting married?"

You ignored the last question altogether, knowing that reacting to it one way or another would only encourage him. "I'm from the west coast. I was born just outside of LA, moved later on to Chicago, and then came to New York City for college."

"Yeah? What made you choose NYC?"

"My ex, actually."

"Oh, really?" He looked surprised at that tidbit of information, and you tried to just shrug it off. "Must've been pretty serious then, huh?"

"It was." He noticed how quiet you went at that, and he didn't press the point, deciding instead to change the subject.

"So Philip must've been a pretty good rebound?" He nudged you, wiggling his eyebrows, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"He..." You paused, considering how you were supposed to respond to that. "He's definitely exceeded expectations, to be perfectly honest."

"Hmm, I dunno how good that sounds, Y/N." He raised a skeptical eyebrow, small smile playing at his lips. "How low, exactly, were your expectations?"

You pursed your lips, but your amusement betrayed you. You hadn't expected to be called out on the truth behind your statement. Your gaze dropped to the bar before you, and you drummed your fingers on the varnished wood. You shrugged. "Not that low."

He let out a snort of laughter. "What an absolutely glowing review. I'll be sure to let him know."

"Hey, don't you betray me like this!"

"I've made it clear where my loyalties lie." He held up his hands in mock surrender. "In all seriousness, though, why were your expectations so low?"

Again, you were unsure of how much to reveal. "Let's just say that Philip isn't much for first impressions."

"Really?" His surprise appeared genuine, before he tilted his head to the side, considering it, and shrugged. "I guess, with you, that shouldn't surprise me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You folded your arms, needing more information before you could decide whether you were offended. He saw your furrowed brow and grinned.

"I don't mean that as a bad thing. Honest." He paused, considering himself, and you raised an eyebrow, prompting him to continue. He leaned onto the bar, and he spoke matter-of-factly, beginning to explain. "So, Philip's always been good with people. And he's definitely never had any problems with girls. He was in and out of casual relationships all through high school and college just for the hell of it."

Your eyebrows shot up. "Really?" The disbelief in your voice was blatant, and he cracked a smile.

"Yeah, he actually did have some tact, once upon a time. Was a charming kid; I never could figure out how he did it." He shook his head, amusement in his eyes. "But... well, when something matters to him -- or someone -- he goes looking for advice, and everyone else's input just ends up shaking him up. Think I mighta given him advice about you once or twice, so I guess you have me to thank for that."

For a moment, you were stunned. You swallowed, trying not to get too caught up in your head with the information he’d shared, but given its nature, it was hard not to overthink. You tried to match his lighthearted expression. "And what advice would you have given him?"

"Well, five years ago..." He squinted ever-so-slightly as he considered your question. A silent laugh slowly etched itself into his features. "Y'know what, it doesn't matter. Just trust me when I tell you, it was bad advice."

"Georges!"

"Seriously, you don't wanna know." You glared at him, leaning onto the bar where you sat. "I'm sorry to leave you hangin', but I promise, telling you helps no one."

You huffed as you slumped back in your seat. "Are you that bad at relationship advice?"

"Worse than what you're imagining," he assured you, and you shook your head, exasperated.

"How in the world are you married?" The question was a joke, but despite his chuckle, his answer wasn't.

"I think some things are just meant to happen." You raised an eyebrow. He shrugged, wearing a small smile. "Seriously, I was an absolute fool in college -- and I mean that -- but no matter how many times I fucked up with Emilie, she always ended up back in my life. It was usually just coincidence. We were taking the same classes; we had the same advisor; we were on the same subway through town; our dorm rooms were right across from each other.

"And honestly? She kinda hated me at some point, but we kept being thrown together, and we got to know each other pretty well. Call me crazy, but it felt like fate." The distant look in his eyes shifted to something akin to entertainment, after that. "Similar thing happened with Philip, actually."

"Really? When?" You were genuinely invested by that point.

"Junior year of high school." He nodded to himself, thinking back with a grin. "Yeah, that was a hell of a time. Like, one week in, Philip and I had this huge fight. Don't even remember what it was about, but it had us really heated."

"Honestly, I can't imagine you two fighting," you said, and he gave a shrug, his smile agreeable.

"Nah, not anymore, not like that, but we were teenagers," he said, as though that entirely explained it. "But I was only supposed to have one class with him that year, so he tried to switch out of it to get away from me. They ended up having to remake his schedule so he was in every other class with me. Poor kid couldn't escape it, but if it wasn't for some underpaid high-school administrator, we probably wouldn't be friends."

"Sounds like you have a lot of luck," you said, and he grinned.

"That's just it, though." He pinned you with a thoughtful look. "Was it luck, or was it just meant to turn out that way?"

You considered it for a moment. His stories did sound like the longest odds imaginable, but when you thought about your own life, you couldn't help but hope he was delusional. You'd had more than your fair share of bad luck in your life, and once upon a time, it had driven away almost everything you cared about. You didn't like to think that your misery could just have been some cruel twist of fate.

You opened your mouth to respond, uncertain, but Philip had apparently chosen that moment to re-emerge, inadvertently cutting you off.

"Speak of the devil!" Georges called out, his grin wide, and Philip eyed you both skeptically.

"You two are still talking about me?"

Georges glanced at you, and you told him, "I'm hearing all about your high school years."

Philip groaned. "Oh, c'mon man, what are you telling her?"

"We just covered your junior-year mullet and your fez-wearing phase," he informed him, meeting your eyes with a playful smile. "I was just about to fill her in on when you joined the bowling team in our senior year, but--"

"Alright, that's enough outta you." Georges shot you a conspiratory wink as Philip cut him off, though neither you nor Philip could hide your amusement. He, however, tried to play it off as annoyance. "Sounds like we're gonna need to get out of here before you get to the highlights of college."

"Aw, but Pip, I'm learning so much," you pouted, and he looked mildly exasperated as he met your eyes.

"That's what concerns me." Georges laughed while you groaned, and Philip's smile reappeared as he took a seat to your right.

"Then just wait'll I tell her about middle school."

---------------------------------

The rest of your evening was a whirlwind. Having grown up with only an older brother, you hadn't realized quite how many six siblings were -- that changed quickly. You really couldn't believe Angelica had managed to grow up with five brothers without losing her mind. Family dinner stretched on into the night, chaotic to the brink of your comfort zone. You found yourself enjoying it much more than you'd expected to, however. The Hamiltons were as lively as they were numerous, and you couldn't help but laugh along.

"But you were the one who got the room alone!" It took an hour or two, but you'd gotten Philip's siblings' names down. That was James, the younger high-schooler, yelling across the table at Angelica, who made a face.

"I was a seventeen-year-old girl! I couldn't keep sharing a room with my younger brothers!" she shot back, "You scared away three of my boyfriends! Three!"

"You never had to bring them up to our room, but you wanted some alone time with them." It was John, the eleven-year-old, who chimed in this time, making kissy sounds at Angelica who just mocked him.

"I had a right to some privacy!" she shot back. You didn't remember how they'd wandered down this line of discussion, but it seemed to be an impassioned one. Alex Jr. scoffed loudly.

"Hey, I'm seventeen, and I don't have my own room," he interjected, glaring down the table at their dad. "This is a double standard!"

"We have a toddler in the house; grow up," Alex Sr. sighed, which only seemed to further upset Alex Jr.

"Hey, William was Eliza's age when Ang was my age! That's not fair!"

"It doesn't matter; you aren't getting any girls anyway." The sneer came from John.

"Hey, I'm getting plenty--"

"Oh, yeah? Where are they?"

"I haven't brought them home because you can't seem to--"

"Boys! Relax!" Eliza did her best to quell the growing argument, but it seemed to be to little avail. Alex put a hand on her shoulder with a suppressed laugh as she huffed, clearly exasperated.

"Don't make this about me! I'm an incredible roommate!"

"Have you seen our bathroom lately?"

"Come on," Angelica groaned, her annoyance getting lost in the growing cacophony. John was shouting now, leaning over the table at his brother, and you jumped in your seat when James yelled back, deciding it was now his place to join the conversation.

You didn't realize you had grabbed Philip's forearm in your startled fit until he broke your train of thought.

"Alright, princess?"

Your head whipped toward him, surprised to see him leaning in to talk to you, and he looked thoroughly amused by your reaction. You released his arm from your grasp, giving him a sheepish smile. "Your family really is something."

"Believe me now that I was the easy child?" he asked, and you let out a snort of laughter, gaze falling back to his family.

"There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that you were like this ten years ago."

"Hurtful," he scoffed, mocking offense, and you just shrugged, smile growing.

"They had to learn it somewhere."

"It was all Angelica."

"I'm sure."

The woman in question broke the wall of noise at almost exactly that moment, raising her head from her hands. "This is exactly why I needed my own room!" That just turned the younger boys into a united front against her, and she looked to Philip with a sigh. "I'm starting to understand why you waited so long to bring Y/N home."

"No idea what you could be referring to. They're so charismatic!" Philip shrugged, plastering on over-exaggerated confusion, seemingly just to get a rise out of his sister. She rolled her eyes with a groan; it appeared to be working. She turned to you.

"Please don't run for the hills just because our younger brothers are absolute monsters," she said, gaze pleading as she reached for your hand. You smiled, amused despite yourself. "We really need some sanity in this family. I can't take family dinners being just me with six boys."

"Aw, Angie, are you saying I'm not one of the absolute monsters?" Philip interjected with a pout. "I'm touched, really."

You and Angelica both rolled your eyes at his antics. It was then that you decided you liked her.

You leaned over the table toward where her hand was desperately clutching yours. "You've got me for the rest of the weekend, but I'm not sure I can promise more."

She groaned exaggeratedly, and Philip nudged you lightly in the side, grinning mischievously. "What, don't you love my family so far?"

His words were teasing, but your soft smile as you looked back at the people surrounding him was anything but. "I do, actually."

When you met his eyes again, his gaze was softer, grin less pronounced. "Good."

The table had slowly grown quieter throughout your interaction, and it seemed you'd held Philip's gaze for just a moment too long, and you turned to see the entire family watching the two of you. You felt your face heat up, took a sip of your water. From then, there was silence, until a grinning William decided to break it.

He'd been quiet for the majority of the meal, so it surprised you when he turned to you, eyes shining. "So, Y/N," he addressed you, tone businesslike.

"I think we've spent enough time questioning Y/N already," Philip interjected before he could continue, resting a near-protective hand on your arm. You cast him a grateful look.

"C'mon, humor him," James said, his grin matching William's. "It's hardly eight; we have plenty of time."

"We started dinner at five." Philip sounded unamused.

"We haven't spent that whole time interrogating her," he defended, and Philip gave him a pointed look. James turned to you. "Right, Y/N?"

While you sighed playfully, playing up your exasperation, you really didn't mind it. You'd never had a family like this before. "I suppose not."

"Anyway," William interjected, looking as stern as a seven-year-old could. You pursed your lips, fighting back a laugh as you folded your hands and leaned toward him, mirroring his expression. "Y/N."

"William." You did your best to imitate his tone.

"When are you and Pip going to have a baby?"

Your eyes widened immediately, and your mouth fell open in shock, if only for a moment. Philip groaned beside you, leaning back in his chair, and you could hear his parents laughing at the end of the table. Some of his siblings looked exasperated; others waited eagerly for your answer.

"Well, um..." You trailed off as you glanced at Philip desperately, hoping he'd shut his family down so you didn't have to. He hadn't yet seemed to have recovered. Your face was burning as you tried to continue. "We aren't married, so not anytime soon, but--"

"When are you getting married?" William pressed, seemingly unaffected by everyone's reactions to his words. You leaned forward, had to take a sip of your drink to hide your surprised laugh.

"Sorry to say it, but right now, we don't know that we are getting married, so I'll have to get back to you on that question." You gave him an apologetic smile before you looked back at Philip, eyes wide. This was territory you didn't think you'd have to cover. He just shook his head and mouthed, 'I'm sorry.' He appeared wholly exhausted.

"Surely you've talked about it before, though, haven't you?" It was the older Alex who chimed in that time, hesitant. Eliza gave him a look. "I mean, getting married, having kids and all that. You've been together for two years; you must have considered it at some point."

"Pops," Philip said through gritted teeth, the word carrying an unsaid warning.

"What? I'm just curious," he defended, despite Eliza swatting his shoulder. He raised his hands in mock surrender as he glanced at her, eyes wide. "If you haven't, it's fine. I don't mean to rush you kids into anything, but I just wanted to know."

By then, though she sighed, you could see Eliza looking at the two of you hopefully. The whole table fell silent, expecting an answer you didn't have. "It's just... not something we've taken into consideration at this point. We aren't really set on making decisions about that anytime soon."

"Do you want kids, though?" Angelica asked you, and Philip sighed. Like you, he'd hoped the topic would fall away after your weak explanation. You hesitated, not sure whether giving them a legitimate answer would only egg them on. Ultimately, you shrugged.

"I mean, personally? Yeah, probably at some point," you offered, playing nervously with the edge of your napkin. You didn't want to look at Philip. "The whole 'settling down and starting a family' thing is something I've kind of always pictured"

"Is it more appealing now that you see how great having a big family is for us?" Alex Jr. asked, words saturated with sarcasm. You laughed as he grinned exaggeratedly, gesturing to everyone down the table.

"I know you're joking and all, but I really wouldn't mind this being my day-by-day."

"Really?" Philip chose that moment to finally interject, an eyebrow raised, and you nodded, feeling suddenly defensive.

"I mean, yeah." You shrugged, shoulders tense. "What, wouldn't you?"

"I would.” His lips quirked as he sat forward in his chair once again. “But, honestly, I didn’t think this was your style.”

"I'm not totally set on anything, but..." You didn't elaborate further. Confessing to him the future you wanted had you feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. His smile was soft as he faintly nodded, eyes crinkling at the corners.

There was a pregnant pause before Alex Sr. spoke.

"I guess now you've talked about it."

------------------------------------

Dinner ended much later than it needed to, and afterward, they just herded you into their living room. It seemed that now since they all had you in front of them, they were going to take advantage of the opportunity to ask you anything and everything about yourself and your love life (with a focus on Philip, of course). You did your best to field the seemingly endless barrage of questions, and though it took you a while, you finally figured out how to deflect the more uncomfortable ones onto Philip. It wasn't until you yawned -- rather loudly, too -- that the conversation reached any sort of stopping point.

"Tired, princess?" Philip wrapped an arm around your waist, lightly squeezing your side, and you sighed, not having enough energy to push back on the pet name.

"Little bit," you mumbled, a weary smile still adorning your lips. He chuckled, and you couldn't help but lean into his embrace, feeling more drained than anything, and rested your head on his shoulder.

"You two should head up and get some sleep," Eliza said. The look in her eyes as you met her gaze was affectionate. You didn't notice your smile growing.

"I second that. You look exhausted, Y/N," Alex added, looking to you and Philip sympathetically.

You chuckled at that, and you couldn't help the lazy sarcasm that leaked into your voice as you responded, "Thanks, Mr. Hamilton; glad to hear it."

"Alex," he corrected you, his smile kind. He didn't seem to take any offense at your tone; instead, amusement danced in his eyes, and you nodded, matching his expression.

"Alex."

You couldn't decide whether the warm feeling in your chest as you bid everyone goodnight, letting Philip lead you to the stairs, was the result of your fatigue, the merlot Eliza had offered you around seven (and then three more times in the hours that followed), or if it just came from being around his family. It had to be some combination of the three, but you had a sneaking suspicion it leaned mainly toward the latter.

The two of you walked in easy silence, you still reminiscing on everything that had happened that day, everyone you'd met, and you didn't notice Philip watching you as you hung onto the railing to your left. You weren't in any sort of headspace for vigilant observation. Instead, you were fixated fondly on his family. It was never an environment you'd been in, so rowdy and energetic, but tender and caring all the while. You'd been dreading this weekend -- seriously, you spent about an hour on the drive down drowning out Philip's soliloquy, spaced out and wondering whether it was too late to just turn around and dump him off on the side of the road. (Patsy wouldn't have even questioned it when you arrived home.) The past however-many-hours, though, almost since you'd just woken up, had you questioning a number of assumptions you'd made, and not just about the family reunion.

You stumbled over one of the last stairs as you lost yourself in your train of thought. Your eyes snapped wide open; your grip on the railing tightened. Just as you felt yourself beginning to tip backward, you found yourself in Philip's arms, his grip on your waist steadying you as he looked down at you, amused.

"You alright?" The air hadn't yet returned to your lungs; your pseudo-crisis must have begun and ended in under a second, and you stared up at him blankly. You blinked, just beginning to process your surroundings.

Catching your breath was more of a struggle than it should've been, however. All you could discern was the feeling of his fingertips pressing into your skin, the feeling of his breath on your neck as he looked down at you. You weren't even that close together, but clinging to his arms for what seemed like dear life had you feeling mildly defenseless. You couldn't miss the growing concern in his eyes.

"Yeah," you breathed as you realized you'd let the silence stretch on too long, long enough for Philip to question it. Being tired (and gravitating toward wine-tipsy) must have just heightened the panic in your system, must have slowed your reaction time. Another beat passed, and you finally pulled yourself upright, taking a deep breath as you continued up the last couple of stairs and down the hallway. Philip's concern didn't dissipate as he came up after you, but your mind was elsewhere.

You had to promise yourself to keep from drinking the next day, feeling exasperated with yourself as you couldn't seem to collect your thoughts. He caught up to you as you entered his room, and pulled the door shut behind him with an eyebrow raised. You didn't see him watching you, a silent question in his gaze, as you dragged yourself over to your suitcase.

You turned around after pulling your pajamas out and froze when you met his eyes. "What?"

He pursed his lips. "You sure you're okay?"

"Of course," you reassured him, giving a weary smile. "I'm just tired; don't worry."

You didn't let yourself ponder any longer, and though you could see your answer hadn't quite appeased him, you ignored it. The room was quiet as you both picked through your suitcases, brushed past each other entering and exiting the bathroom. You were both more than ready to get some sleep.

Just before you were about to climb into bed, you paused, unable to help your drifting gaze. Philip was still in the adjacent bathroom, brushing his teeth, and you glanced back at him. Considering the circumstances, briefly vetting his room felt like fair game.

Your eyes scanned the walls, noting the different posters he still had hung up, appearing to all be from different times in his life -- some were much more worn than others, and you couldn't imagine he'd been anxiously awaiting the new Scooby-Doo movie anytime recently. You wandered over to the desk, the corners of your mouth twitching up into a small smile as you noticed the books and pictures stacked high on the surface. Your fingertips brushed against one photo, and your gaze fell to it, seeing Philip and three other people all in party hats, their celebration frozen in time.

You could hear his footsteps stall behind you as you poked into his belongings, but it didn't discourage you.

"When's this from?" you asked, turning to him with the polaroid you'd uncovered. He chuckled as he walked over, plucking the picture from your hand.

"Eighteenth birthday party," he said, eyes crinkling at the corners as he eyed the photograph. He turned his gaze back to you with a small smile. "You're actually gonna meet all the people in this photo this weekend, assuming they all show up."

You raised an eyebrow, stifling a yawn as you took a seat on the perfectly made bed a few feet in front of him. "What, couldn't get anyone but family to celebrate your eighteenth with you?"

"Hardly." He hummed, ignoring the aim behind the insult. "My dad lost most of his family when he was young, though, so while you'll meet all of Mom's family this weekend, Pop's is all just his friends who he's adopted into the family, and then their families. These three are his friends' kids who I grew up with," he said, motioning again to the photograph.

"That's sweet," you said softly, pushing yourself further up the bed, hugging your knees to your chest.

"Hmm?"

"That your dad chose this entirely new family, I mean." He shrugged, walking over to join you on the bed.

"Yeah, I guess so," he said, "Never really thought much of it, I guess." He paused, eyeing you with a raised eyebrow where you sat. "What's your family like? You don't talk about them much."

You pursed your lips. "Small."

"Yeah?" He took a seat next to you after pulling himself onto the bed. Your skin jumped as the outside of his thigh rested against yours, his hip less than an inch away, and you could feel his body heat radiating off of him. You nodded, swallowing hard as a soft smile grew on your lips.

"Just me, my parents and my brother."

"That's it?" He looked surprised at your explanation, and you just shrugged. "What about cousins, grandparents, aunts, uncles?"

"Two aunts, no grandparents, no cousins."

"Really," he sighed, seemingly still in disbelief. A teasing grin worked its way onto his face as he elbowed you lightly. "So I won't be going to any family reunions in the L/N household anytime soon, then, huh?"

You laughed despite yourself. "Doesn't look like it. The closest we ever get is when my brother and I are together in NYC and Mom and Dad drive up to meet us for a couple days. Not much of a production."

"Sounds nice, though." His grin had grown by then as he looked over at you, leaning back to meet you where you sat. By then, he was sitting angled toward you with his legs crossed, reclining back on his hands. You shifted, and the hand behind you brushed against his. "Next time the L/Ns get together in New York, though, I'd better be invited. Quid pro quo, princess."

"Oh, of course," you replied jokingly, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Might be a little quieter than what you're used to, though."

He rolled his eyes. "At least you're letting me know ahead of time." You shifted to turn yourself toward him, again finding him only inches from you. He looked as surprised as you did, but neither of you moved, and he continued, tone light. "Speaking of, sorry for not warning you about how... chaotic my family gets. It's been a while since I've been with them all at once, and I forgot to consider that this isn't how everyone's families work."

You chuckled, your smile growing. "No, don't apologize. They're sweet."

"Not the word that comes to mind." He pursed his lips, looking down at you skeptically. You rolled your eyes, but he couldn't have missed the mirth in your expression. "Then again, considering that, it's no wonder you get along with them."

Your jaw dropped in mock outrage. "What's that supposed to mean?!"

He shrugged, feigning innocence despite his smirk. "Nothing much. Just that I'm glad you feel at home with my family."

You huffed out a laugh, pulling yourself up to jab a finger in his chest. "Now don't you dare even pretend that wasn't an insult!"

"I don't know what you're talking about." His grin didn't waver.

"Oh, don't play dumb," you scoffed. You both knew the fury in your voice was contrived, and his amusement seemed to grow. "We both know what you meant."

"Oh, yeah?" He pushed back on you, leaning in against your hand, an eyebrow raised. "What'd I mean, princess?"

"I said don't pretend," you warned him. He was looking increasingly smug the more indignant you became, and you narrowed your eyes.

"Who said I was?

"I'm not stupid." You raised your eyebrows.

"'Course not." He mocked your expression. "So you must already know I would never mean anything other than praise by that, huh?"

You rolled your eyes with a groan, having had about enough, despite the smile you were failing to stifle. He laughed, and you reached out to shove him away by the chest, but just as you did, he tried to grab your wrist, eyebrows raised.

He was too late.

As he grabbed your wrist, you couldn't pull back to where you were sitting, and your eyes widened as you lost your balance. Your momentum turned what would've hardly tipped him over into a much more forceful push, and you sent him falling backward, his legs unfolding as he tried to catch himself, with you, in turn, collapsing forward with a yelp. You ended up on top of him, one hand still held to his chest, the other beside his head, and you knelt straddling his waist. Both of you had wide eyes as you realized the position you were in, nose-to-nose, and your breath caught in the back of your throat.

He was the first to speak, eyes shining, his voice low. "Y'know, this wasn't quite what I had in mind when I asked you to come home with me for the weekend."

However, you were still stunned into silence, hyper-aware of any movement either of you made. You had to focus on your breathing in an effort to calm your pounding heart. (With your hand on his chest, you could tell you weren't the only one.)

You felt your hair brushing against your cheek as it fell forward, draped beside your head over Philip. It must have been subconscious when you found yourself leaning in further yet, must have been instinct based on the situation. Nonetheless, when you did, the side of your nose brushed against his, and you felt his heartbeat quicken, saw his eyes widen.

You paused when you must have been less than an inch above him.

"Y/N," he murmured, voice cautious as his free hand found its way up to your waist. You stalled, though, for another moment, shivering when you felt his breath fan across your lips. He was all but immobile beneath you, too apprehensive to make any move one way or another.

The anticipation in his eyes only heightened with each passing second.

It was then that you pushed yourself off of him, blinking hard, and you couldn't decide whether you had lost your nerve or regained your sense. You swallowed, took a deep breath. "Sorry, I... I didn't mean to, um--" You cut yourself off. What in the world were you thinking? The question arose in your mind desperately as you scrambled further back, further from him. Your face was burning. "I wasn't--"

"You're ok," he said softly, giving you a reassuring (yet, slightly worried) smile. You didn't meet his gaze. "It was a mistake." You were so lost in your own train of thought that you didn't notice when Philip finally stood, walked to the empty side of the bed to join you.

"We should get some sleep," he said, turning on the lamp beside him, and you nodded. The past few minutes had you spiraling. All his actions were hesitant; had you scared him? You didn't mean to end up in that position. He knew it was just a mishap, right? Did you know that it was?

He stood briefly to hit the light, and you crawled under one side of the covers. After a moment, he joined you. Neither of you knew quite what to say next.

"G'night, princess," he finally murmured, voice as wary as it was soft as you curled into the sheets, and he pulled them over himself alongside you. You closed your eyes in an effort to forget that you were still facing him, shifted over to give him space. Your calf brushed against his knee, but you didn't pull away.

When you heard the lamp turn off, you finally spoke again. "Night, Pip."

The room was completely silent after that, but neither of you was at rest. You lay with your eyes tightly shut, your thoughts running a mile a minute as you willed yourself to stop replaying one specific moment on a loop.

You didn't realize your brow was furrowed, but Philip did, watching you for just a moment longer with smiling eyes.

The bed was just a little bit warmer that night.

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flattired · 4 years

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( JACOB ELORDI, CIS MAN, HE / HIM — oh gosh, sorry THOMAS “TOMMY” BARNETT ! i didn't see you there ! y'know, i can't believe you're already TWENTY FIVE years old; seems like just yesterday you were tripping over yourself, or was that yesterday ? just kidding, just kidding ! anyway, i hear that you've been here since 1978, or so you think; congratulations ! at least that shining OBLIGING personality of yours hasn't changed a bit, especially that LOYAL + AMICABLE, but FOOLISH + RESTLESS way about you. look, i gotta get back to the group, but i'll see you around !

hello, hello! my name is rion, though at this point you might know be better as admin jay on the main! i... i just need you guys to know how absolutely excited i am that you’re all here. lilah will tell you that basically every time we got an app she had to listen to me say holy shit again. we also sent each other the paul rudd ‘ hey, look at us ’ video a lot. it just really means the world to us that you guys took the time to join this and we hope you enjoy what we have planned. so yeah! mush out of the way, let me introduce you to the sweet but easily lead astray, tommy barnett.

full name : thomas barnett

age upon check in : twenty five

gender & pronouns : cis man & he / him

trait : obliging

personality : loyal, amicable, foolish, restless

aesthetic : survival came thanks to quick hands, the ability to stay upright despite the strikes, and an uncanny ability to find friends in high places ( just like you were taught ) — let them pull you up, believe that’s what they’re doing, and repay that kindness with service. a well worn deck of cards dictates the shape of your back pocket, the faces of queens and jacks rubbed soft to the touch by your left thumb. brother was a soldier, you were conscripted to a different brotherhood, orange prescription bottles standing at attention, waiting to be carried off by you. marked body, both for lust and anger. low expectations allow one to slip through life unnoticed ; that’s an asset, not a concern. just keep your mouth shut, kid, your comforts come at a certain price.

WHO ARE YOU ?

tw. parental neglect, toxic relationships, verbal abuse, drugs / drug dealing

thomas barnett was the younger of two sons born to eliza and charles barnett, a dysfunctional couple living just above the poverty line. tommy grew up learning how to avoid their often explosive arguments, which often spilled onto those around them ( skills include: knowing which way you could walk pass the kitchen without being noticed, which window opened without squeaking, which headphones were worth saving up for because they actually blocked sound like they claimed ). thankfully, tommy was not alone in this, he had james: an older brother who faithfully looked after him in ways their parents never did. without james, it’s unclear where tommy would be now.

he was never seen as the smartest child. liked by teachers when he was young for being kind at heart, but it took him more time than others to grasp concepts they were teaching. he struggled to pay attention, and as he grew older kind didn’t seem to be enough anymore when compared against his struggles to focus or retain. he skidded by in school, passing by the skin of his teeth, his parents far too preoccupied with the bills they couldn’t pay and their anger with each other to notice how their younger son was struggling. tommy didn’t care enough to seek out help on his own, frustrated with the way academic pursuits made him feel, and while james was doing his best, there was only so much he could do.

tommy was fifteen when james was conscripted, and suddenly he was on his own. that buffer between him and his parents was in one of the carolinas, attending basic, and tommy was forced to bare the brunt of their anger that spilled over. they used him as a tool to wound each other, no wonder he’s failing, he’s your son, but tommy was the one who ended up wearing most of the injuries. yet, it would not be the last time would become a weapon for someone else.

he would find new excuses to spend time away from the small house that had no place to hide, mostly spending time at various friends’ houses, but when a teenage boy is seeking to find things to do it is often that he’ll find himself with new and exciting bad habits. he started smoking, getting into fights when there was nothing else to do, and eventually helping a boy named davey deal drugs.

david, davey to tommy — though he accepted the nickname from no one else, was the other constant in tommy’s life besides james. they met in the third grade and davey was seemingly everything tommy wasn’t. people thought he was clever, he didn’t worry about school, and as far as tommy could tell, davey was absolutely loaded. despite the differences, they were fast friends, and tommy became extremely loyal to the other boy over the years. that’s why, when davey got involved in some things that were less than legal, tommy found himself involved as well.

for all the cleverness davey was touted to have, the scheme was rather simplistic. maybe that was the genius of it though. davey’s father was a doctor, a psychiatrist specifically, and apparently it was easy enough to pull rx pads from the desk within their home. then davey would fill them out in the way he wanted to, forge his father’s signature, and take the scripts to various out of town pharmacies to get them filled. then he, with the help of tommy, could sell them at a premium.

tommy was never certain why davey did it, but for tommy it was about achieving a bit of freedom, independence. the deal was never something that fits who he was at heart, especially with some of the more questionable things davey did, but he tried not to think about that. his bartending job was something that left him living paycheck to paycheck, but this ... well, it let him move out of his parent’s place, and it’s the first time he’s just had cash on hand without having to think about it. he wouldn’t like to admit it, but there’s also something about the excitement, the way it scratches that restless itch of his, that ( in addition to his loyalty to davey ) kept him in the game.

WHERE & WHEN DID YOU CHECK IN ?

when tommy opened the door to his room the next morning to find the raven house, he knew instantly something had changed. it wasn’t hard to figure out considering he had checked into a motel 6 off of i - 95 the night before. sure, it had been a late night and he hadn’t gotten much sleep, but when you’re expecting to step out onto a concrete walkway ( red metal railing in front of you, a half empty parking lot that hosts an above ground pool that is closed for the season ) and are instead greeted by a dark hallway and someone wearing what must be a halloween costume, it doesn’t take a genius to tell that something has changed. which is good, considering no one has ever accused thomas barnett of being a genius. there were plenty of other things people called him, and he tried to not let those things bother him.

but it was 1978, and no one dressed like that anymore. at least ... he didn’t think anyone did.

this wasn’t even supposed to be a trip. just a night drive; windows down in his car and recorded cassettes with his favorite songs playing at top volume. it wasn’t his fault he’d lost track of time and ended up further from home than he’d planned. now he was ... here, wherever here was. the raven house didn’t look like anything he’d ever seen before. the luxury is almost off putting to he who is far more comfortable in dive bars and parties in unfinished basements. it reminded him of davey’s house, almost, a place that ( despite the years that they had been friends ) tommy never felt like he belonged inside of.

except, this was even nicer than that.

WHAT WENT WRONG ?

tw. drugs / drug dealing

a flat tire.

which would have been fine. he knew how to change a flat tire. so technically, what had gone wrong was that he also got a flat tire three months before, and he’d never replaced the spare.

tommy managed to pull the car over, and upon discovering this and checking the time on the car radio, he decided there was nothing he could do tonight. a neon vacancy sign was visible from where he was standing, and he was sure they had a payphone he could use in the morning, call a friend or call a tow truck. it would be fine to leave the car here until then, right? of course it would be.

as it turned out, it wouldn’t really matter.

there was a bag in the trunk, something inspired both by his occupation ( occupation? side gig, to supplement bartending, to help out his friend... it was just pills ) and advice from his older brother. james had seen some shit — or, that’s how tommy would explain it. james had never given him any of the specifics, so he had none to pass on. inside the bag were the essentials, certainly everything he’d need for a one night stay at a motel. could you even call it one night if it was already past midnight?

WHY WERE YOU BROUGHT HERE ?

it might be easy to pin tommy as the extraverted type, but the truth is under a somewhat loud exterior, there’s a kind heart: someone who’s loyal and easy going and could certainly be considered obliging. that’s the trait that brought him to the raven house, and if you think about it for even just a moment, it’s not hard to see why. an individual who’s never a leader, always the support, and doesn’t mind it. a good listener, someone who will do anything for those he cares for, or who’s happy just to play the music a little louder and sing along with you if that’s what you need. the fights he used to get into were just something to do, to assuage the restles spirit that needs to stay occupied, of something for a friend wronged ( though this definition has become somewhat muddled ), but truthfully he’s good natured at his core. he knows what it is like to receive help when you need it, and he’ll return that favor to the world any day.

WHICH ITEM IN YOUR POSSESSION IS THE MOST IMPORTANT ?

it’s just a deck of cards. it’s just a deck of cards except it was a birthday present from james. it’s just a deck of cards but they’ve been worn soft to the touch by the repeated pressure of being rubbed between his thumb and fingers. he used to do card tricks with them, but now he’s worried they’ll tear. a new deck was picked up in the lobby convenience store, but the old deck is important, even if it is no longer useful.

... WAS THERE ANYTHING ELSE ?

can be goaded into almost anything with the phrase ‘ i dare you. ’

is the guy who suggests that everyone play the black betty game at parties, and feels clever when he explains it.

will kick your ass at a game of quarters

was an obnoxious car signer. his ability is average, the issue lies in his inability to truly focus on driving at the same time.

now an obnoxious hotel shower singer. my apologies to whoever has the room next to him.

to compound that, he tends to keep strange hours. time isn’t real here, but his body is still on the schedule of his bartending job and mostly nocturnal, if such a thing is possible here.

has argued with the empty other side of the bar over how a drink is made.

hates the feeling of being cooped up here, more than he dislikes the issue of time. he used to drive a lot and has replaced that by wandering the floors of the hotel.

#rhintro

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vacantly-violet-blog · 6 years

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The tables had turned.

She was the skater girl. The signature blue plaid, torn up Vans, and the same crooked smiled.

He was the city boy, the one who took dance classes and music lessons. Never seen without a sweater vest, a pair of tortoiseshell glasses, and a book in hand.

No one ever knew, but they both yearned for another life. She wanted to be like him: everything coming easy, not having to worry about the drunk man who came home every night to beat his wife and daughter. He wanted her life: The friends, the fun, the parents who weren't strict.

One sunny day, the world turned dark for them. She had her earbuds in to drown out the world. With a swift kick from the ground, she kept her skate board going. He was walking towards her.

The drunken truck driver never saw either of them. But he had seen her.

Having never taken a risk in his life, he rushed at her, pushing her off the board.

She heard the snap. She heard the squeal of tires as they skidded to a halt.

He had saved her life. The girl he'd had a crush on since the fourth grade.

She had let a life go. The one that she so very wanted to meet, to talk to, to embrace one day.

The sirens. The lights. The people. She remembered them all, but distantly. What she would always remember was the bloody broken body laying just nine feet away.

She didn't know him, but she cried.

The next year at school, a pair of students had been put together.

"Hello, Lilah. I'm Jon," he said, holding out his hand.

All she could do was sit there, disbelief and shock written across her face.

The boy had lived.

And both of their wishes were finally coming true.

Hey, this is my first Tumblr post. I know, I'm not very good with stories, but I make quite a few. I also do photography and art. The art is the least I do. I hope you guys actually enjoy some of the stuff I create.

Thanks for reading!

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lovcdandlostold · 4 years

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he’s got arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to him still. there’s a chill in the air, and he’s not yet ready to get up, especially given that it would wake not only her up, but would mean moving at least two cats. so no, he’s not going to disentangle himself from her just yet. damien buries his face into the crook of her neck, planting a soft kiss and closing his eyes in contentment for a moment before pulling back just enough so that he can look at her face.

it’s a face he could wake up to for the rest of his life. no, that’s not quite right. it’s a face he’s going to wake up to for the rest of his life. he can see the ring on delilah’s finger and it’s just another reminder that yes. this is right. this is where i’m meant to be. there’s nowhere in the world he would rather be. he continues to leave light kisses on the side of her face, on her temple, anywhere within reach, all while still trying to not wake her up.

he’d turned off their alarms late last night, texted jemma to have her open the shop. he had every intention of spending this morning with his beautiful wife (if he ever tires of saying that, everyone should be worried — it’s not him anymore), letting them enjoy themselves on her birthday without having to worry about anything else.

the quiet peace wouldn’t last, though, because when would it ever in their apartment. delta comes launching through the bedroom, skidding around a sleeping, or previously-sleeping, sardine, and up onto the bed. damien curls over delilah, attempting to shield her from trampling doggy paws as delta tries to lick at his face. he’s laughing. he’s laughing and he thinks he may have never been so happy when he looks down at her, having been solidly jostled awake at this point, and swoops down to capture her lips with his, one hand resting gently on her face

“ mm, mornin’, darlin’. i was going to try to let you sleep, but someone had other plans in mind. ” he kisses her again, gentler this time, still attempting to shove away the overly energetic shepherd.

“ happy birthday, lilah. ”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DELILAH — @sanctuarymade

#sanctuarymade #sanctuarymade: delilah #i think i was born to love you – damien o'connell ft. delilah price.

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downwiththeficness · 3 years

Text

In the Bond-Chapter 20

Word Count: ~5,400

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Smut

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13

Start from the beginning Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Read on AO3 Masterlist

Things had gotten impossibly worse while she was away. More injured had shown up at their doors, another attempt gone completely wrong. Lilah, Brasa, and Javier had spent the last four days working logistics for the extra beds needed—and the extra blood. Their supplies were so low that Brasa had drained the healing pool to fill more bellies. There was little time to think about closing the portal while hungry mouths kept showing up at their door.

Lilah rested her head in her hands, wracking her brain for ideas, “We could steal it.”

Brasa, stressed as he was, laughed softly, “You’re not going on another run so soon. I’ve just got you back.”

Casting him an affectionate glance, Lilah lifted a shoulder, “Doesn’t have to be me.”

He leaned back in his chair, looking to Javier. Dressed in a deep green suit, Jaiver ticked his head to the side, wrist turning so that his palm faced the ceiling. He wasn’t going to say no to the idea.

Brasa’s attention returned to Lilah, “Did you have someone in mind?”

She drew a deep breath in through her nose, pursing her lips so that the exhale came out as a kind of soft whistle, “You know who I’d pick.”

He nodded, “They are efficient.”

“They are available,” she added.

Javier pulled out his cell, “They are being notified.”

He strode from the room, closing the door behind him. Lilah slumped, picking at the frayed hem of her shorts. She tried not to think about what it would be like knowing that the brothers were pulling a job without her. Tried. Failed.

“I can choose another team,” Brasa commented lightly.

She shook her head, “No. There’s no time to explain why we would need a massive shipment of donated blood. Most teams are going to ask too many questions.”

Folding his hands on the table, Brasa silently agreed with her, “I can arrange for the exchange to occur off-site, if you like. You don’t have to see them.”

Lilah deeply appreciated the consideration, but she wasn’t going to make this more difficult that it needed to be, “All your people are here. Doesn’t make sense to bring it from one location to another. If its going to be a problem, I’ll hang out in our room during the hand off.”

Two days later, Lilah was doing just that when Brasa got a text from Richie that they were coming in hot. They didn’t know who was on their tail, but the reinforced walls of the shipping container were full of bullet holes and the rig was too big to lose the cars that followed.

Brasa was gone before she could blink, and Lilah wasn’t about to let him go alone. She grabbed her gun and knife, stalling for only half a second before pocketing her comm. She ran through the hallway, the office, the bar, and into the elevator. While she waited for the carriage to rise, she strapped the knife to her forearm and holstered the gun. When the doors opened to the empty parking garage and shipping bay, she made a sharp right and headed for the only set of stairs.

Feet slamming with every step, Lilah pushed through the door leading to the roof. She kept going until she hit the guard wall. Scanning the horizon, she easily spotted the semi speeding towards the building, kicking up a shit ton of dust in its wake. Behind it were two compacts that looked like they were sponsored by Red Bull. Modified with every possible option, sitting low, they flanked the rig.

Reaching into her pocket, Lilah dug the comm out of the holder, stuffing it into her ear and tapping it awake.

“Can anyone hear me?”

She got nothing in return. Lilah tried again.

“Anyone out there? Can you hear me?”

A second later, there was a distinctive click, followed by, “If you’re going to nag us about keeping a low profile, you can’t keep it to yourself.”

Richie.

Lilah exhaled in relief, “I take it you’ve noticed that you’re being followed.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

Seth.

At least he was talking to her. Lilah half anticipated that he’d clam up out of sheer stubbornness. To be fair, they were hauling ass while trying to dodge bullets. Its possible he didn’t have the mental capacity to do both.

“Brasa’s on his way out there.” She spotted his dark figure running full sprint, impossibly fast, “Give him five seconds.”

“I got eyes,” Richie said in return. “He’s coming up on our left.”

Indeed he was. Lilah watched as he closed the distance, angling his way along the side of the semi. From the distance, Lilah couldn’t exactly tell what he did, but the car in front of him hit hard, flipping over its front wheels. It landed on its top, skidding a few feet. In the next breath, he was on it, hauling bodies from the inside. Whatever screams they might have made were lost to her as he pulled them apart.

Swallowing, Lilah pushed down her initial revulsion and focused on the semi as it neared, “You can’t pull into the garage with them on your ass.”

“I know that,” Richie spat, “Gonna circle it and head out the other way. Give Brasa a shot at the other car.”

That turned out to be almost a wholly unnecessary plan. The second car suddenly jerked to a halt, stalled, its bumper torn off by Brasa’s hand. The wheels skidded across the asphalt, the back axle definitely cracked.

“He’s got them,” was all she said as she watched him do the same all over again.

“Roger that.”

“Shut the fuck up,” came from Seth.

Lilah’s laugh was cut off when she caught movement on the horizon. Dark shapes rushed forward at a dizzying pace, clearing land and zeroing in on the semi as it slowed near the garage.

“You’ve got incoming,” Lilah shouted, turning and running towards the stairs.

Knowing they were going to need backup, she hustled downwards, one hand on the rail to keep balance. She barreled through the door and into the garage. Richie had pulled the semi past the entrance so that he could back in. She could see the parking lights as they flashed at the back.

Lilah rounded the cab, waving her arms and pointing. The brothers peered through the windows, then hopped out, their eyes turned towards the approaching horde. There were maybe fifty or sixty of them, their pounding footsteps loud enough that they echoed in the space of the garage.

“Culebras?” Seth asked.

“Yep,” Richie answered, pocketing his glasses, “Been a while since we’ve had a good fight.

“Yes. It. Has,” Seth enunciated clearly, shrugging off his jacket and pulled his pistols from their holster. Then, to Lilah, “First sign of trouble, you run. Richie and I can handle ourselves, but you run. Got it?”

Taken aback, it took a few seconds for her to respond, “Duly noted, boss.”

He nodded, just once. Richie moved to stand beside him, fangs out, a knife in one hand. The horde continued to approach, moving as a singular undulating mass that had Lilah wondering how they were going to taken them down.

And then one caught fire. Then another. Then another. Like a line of flailing matches, they burst into flame from one side over to the other until the whole front line was slowly disintegrating into ash.

“That’s new,” Seth drawled, using the barrel of a gun to scratch at the back of his head.

Lilah’s lip curled as she watched, wondering if it was the sunlight. The ones that weren’t on fire were pretty well covered up, not an inch of skin showing. Every one wore a hood or mask. They moved around their thrashing comrades, running with singular purpose towards the semi. Lilah palmed her gun, holding it in front of her in preparation to take aim.

The herd shifted, swaying wildly to one side, more exploding into bright orange fire. As they neared, Lilah could see a single dark figure moving among them. Brasa. She’d never really seen the extent of his power, he’d never been particularly flashy when he fought. Now, he was using it to casually extinguish their enemies. No thought. Just action. A turn of his hand and another group became nothing but ash.

Efficient. Casual. Violence.

Widening her stance, Lilah raised her gun, readying to fire. The group was close now, but not close enough that she trusted her aim. Next to her, Seth popped off a few rounds, catching one in the shoulder and stomach. The writhed until they, too, burst into flame.

Bouncing on his feet, Richie vaulted into action, a snarl sounding from deep in his chest. Lilah called after him, but he either didn’t hear or ignored her completely. Both were equally plausible.

“What an asshole,” she murmured, adjusting her grip on her pistol.

“Yeah,” Seth said, “But he’s our asshole.”

“He is,” she responded, finally squeezing the trigger and clipping a culebra in the side as they raised their fist to knock Richie across the face.

Smirking, Richie crouched and spun, slicing open their throat. Their skin burned in with the open wound, blood spurting towards the sky.

It went on like that, until Lilah’s clip was empty and Seth holstered first one gun, then the other—until Brasa moved into the center of the pack and set the whole thing ablaze, Richie ducking out of the circle of fire just in time to singe his coat.

The dust scratched her eyes, the wind blowing it all around the entrance of the garage. The sun beat down on them, the scent of burned flesh and earth filling the air. Lilah wiped sweat from her brow, adrenaline pumping in her veins. She looked to Seth, who was casually reloading his guns from a stash of bullets in the floor of the semi cab.

“Is it over?”

He looked to where Richie and Brasa were walking towards them, Richie’s confident swagger juxtaposed with Brasa’s quiet assurance. Neither of them looked wounded, the dregs of their victory crunching beneath their shoes.

“I think so.”

Lilah nodded, holstering her pistol. She only just managed to keep from pulling Brasa into a firm hug, glad for his safety. He touched her hand as he passed, his eyes looking her over for injury. The bond was open and pulsing, she could feel the excitement of a battle won as it flowed between them. He was strong. He was proud. He was victorious. Lilah could feel the residual power emanating from him, a tingling that signaled that she was in the presence of a greater being.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” she asked with a smile.

Brasa shrugged, “What’s life, if you can’t show off once in a while?”

Rolling her eyes, Lilah turned back to the brothers, one of which was dusting ash from his coat. The other stood with his hands on his hips, looking at the aftermath.

“Well, that was fun,” Seth chirped, “And by ‘fun’ I mean that I never want to do it again.”

“I don’t know,” Richie said with a smile, “Its good to shake the rust off every once in a while.”

Seth frowned, “Rust? Who’s rusty? Not me. I’m well oiled.”

Lilah rolled her eyes, turning her attention to Brasa, “This is going to go on a while.”

“I can see that,” he replied, squinting at the two arguing brothers.

It did, indeed, go on for a bit, until Seth shoved playfully at Richie, moving to the back of the semi, “You’re gonna have to do a little heavy lifting. Not gonna back this ass up to the loading dock.”

Brasa pulled out his cell phone, texting, “We will take care of it. Your payment should be in the account within twenty four hours.”

Seth cut him a sharp glance, “Yeah. Okay.”

From the back of the truck, he hauled a pair of large duffel bags, the content weighing down the length until it sagged in the middle. Dropping both at Lilah’s feet, Seth stepped back with his hands in his pockets.

“Got you something,” he said, “For the occasion.”

Curious, Lilah knelt near one of the bags, unzipped it. She peered inside, looking up at him with a smile, “Thanks. I can use something like this.”

One side of his mouth quirked up, “Thought so.”

Zipping the bag back up, she slung it over her shoulder. Brasa leaned down and snagged the other bag, shrugging it into place.

There was a moment of awkward slience, and then Seth licked his lips, eyes on the horizon, “You lied to me.”

There was no use in prevaricating.

She nodded, “I did.”

“For months.”

“Yes,” she confirmed, “Can you understand why I lied?”

Seth was silent long enough that Lilah feared the bridge between them had been burned irrevocably. She hefted the bag a little high on her shoulder, not sure if she had the words to mend their relationship.

“I was mad—maybe still am,” he said eventually, “I thought we trusted each other.”

“I did,” she responded quickly, “I do. I knew you would be mad.”

Seth rolled a shoulder, “I know. I’m sorry for yelling.”

“I’m sorry for not saying something sooner.”

Richie, who had been watching the exchange with interest, slipped his glasses back on, “Apologies all around. We good?”

Lilah waited for Seth to give an affirming nod before making one of her own. This would be awkward, but she was glad she hadn’t stayed behind and left the question of what would happen between them unanswered. They could maybe be friends again, if not partners. She was grateful for that. Her friends were few and far between—pretty much just the group standing around her, sans one. It would be hell to try to start over, nearly impossible to tell anyone about what her life was really like. Lilah didn’t even know how she would start that conversation.

“You never called, or sent a text,” Lilah prompted gently.

Seth’s mouth worked upward in half a smile, “Lost my phone. Same number, though. Just send me something, and I’ll save your info.”

Exhaling in relief, she looked around at the aftermath of what basically amounted to a ‘squabble’ in their book, “Anyone know where this came from?”

Richie followed the path of her gaze, “Three guesses. First two don’t count.”

“Benny,” reverberated between three distinct voices.

Lilah looked to Brasa, “What do we do?”

He sighed, “Finish it.”

“You get everything you need?” Seth asked.

Brasa nodded, “Only just. I’ll make sure this is delivered where it needs to go. And then I’ll make the trip.”

“I’m going with you,” Lilah pronounced evenly.

Without hesitation, Brasa acknowledged and accepted it.

“We’ll tag along, too,” Seth added, “Given what I’ve seen here, you might need the backup.”

Again, Brasa acknowledged and accepted.

Richie pulled out his lighter, the silver case spinning between thumb and forefinger, “Guess we’re getting the band back together.”

***

Later, after having spent hours working on the logistics of rationing their latest blood stores, Lilah lay in bed with Brasa in their underground home. She was reading through the notes she’d made on the book of bonds. The actual book had been lovingly added to Brasa’s collection, set amongst the other books in his office. She might one day pull it out again, for nostalgia.

The conversation with Kate in Iceland had stuck with her, nagging at her in the quiet moments. When she’d first read through it, Lilah had noted the passages on changes that occurred post-bond, but had (possibly naively) assumed that it would be primarily mental.

The word ‘fortify’ was used several times in varying contexts. Brasa, himself, had used it, leading her to believe that this was part of standard indoctrination. The question was: what did it mean?

Frustrated with the ramblings of her own written thoughts, Lilah set them aside. Next to her, Brasa was reading a Grisham novel. He’d been doing so quite serenely, unbothered by the shifting attention she’d been paying to first her notebooks, then her phone, and back.

Lilah looked at him, wondering if she should interrupt. He sensed her gaze, and sent her a sidelong look. A second later, he was slipping his forefinger between the pages and resting the book on his stomach.

“Ask your question,” he prompted, no bite in his tone.

Lilah laughed, her hand tracing over her forehead self consciously, “Its just something Kate said.”

“What did she say?”

“That she had stopped sleeping, stopped eating—like a normal person, I mean.”

His brow lifted, “And?”

She shrugged, “I just...hadn’t really noticed the same for me. She asked, you know? If I had been feeling the same way.”

“And you’re worried about it.”

Hesitating, she said, “Not worried, exactly. Its just...there have been so many surprises this year. So many. I wondered if this was going to be another of them.”

Brasa’s gaze was steady, his mind clearly processing what she’d just said. He leaned over and set his book on the nightstand, rolling to his side to face her.

“You took the news of your immortality poorly.”

She frowned, “I think my reaction was pretty normal.”

It was his turn to frown, “You ran away for three months, would have been gone longer if I hadn’t come to get you.”

Jaw working, Lilah kept her silence, looking away.

“Regardless,” Brasa waved his hand, “I thought it would be better to let you get used to a long life before we explored...other changes.”

“What other changes?”

He signed in resignation, “As Kate said, decreased appetite for food and sleep.”

Lila’s frown deepened to a glare, “Is that all the changes I can expect?”

Brasa’s mouth parted on an inhale as he thought, “Increased strength, healing, night vision—all things that might characterize a Xibalban.”

She drew back, confused, “I’m becoming...Xibalban.”

His brows quirked, “You are ingesting my blood, it is changing you. I’ve mentioned this before.”

“Mentioned, but not explained,” Lilah retorted, annoyed by the false equity. Then, “You said you had given me all the information you could. At the cabin, you said it.”

Brasa was silent for a while, looking a little lost for words. Lilah crossed her arms, unsure if she wanted to ask more questions. She didn’t like feeling constantly surprised by new aspects of the bond. On the other hand, Lilah like to be informed.

“How fast does it happen?”

“Every time you feed, the changes will grow.”

Lilah tried to count the number of times she’d taken his blood, and how much.

A hand rested on her arm, warm and entreating, “I have kept this in mind. I’ve limited your exposure as much as I could while assuring myself of your safety.”

Taking his hand in hers, Lilah asked, “So, I’m—what—super powered now.”

He smirked, “Perhaps not. But, you’re certainly stronger than the average human.”

Casting him an amused look, she said, “I could actually win a fight now.”

Brasa ticked his head to the side, “Possibly.”

“So, what you’re saying is that I could give you a run for your money now.”

He outright laughed, “No. Not even close.”

“Sure,” she drawled.

His expression turned mischievous, “Care to make an attempt?”

Intrigued, Lilah leaned in and asked, “What did you have in mind?”

Brasa looked down the length of her body, eyes lingering on her bare feet, “Put on your shoes.”

He waited until she’d rolled from the bed and was digging through her sock drawer to stand. Lilah pulled on her socks, stepping into her tennis shoes and tugging at the backs to fit them over her heels. Out of reflex, she snagged a hair tie and pulled back her hair.

“You gonna tell me?”

Brasa’s smile was not unkind, but there was something in it that screamed ‘predator’, “You’re going to run. I’ll give you a head start, and then I’ll follow.”

Smirking, Lilah responded, “What? Through the house?”

His smile widened as he moved past her out into the hall, taking a left. Lilah followed him, her brows rising as he stepped up to the door that had always been locked and turned the knob. It opened for him, only darkness ahead. Lilah moved to stand beside him, peering into the black.

As her eyes adjusted, shapes formed—carved rock, smooth stone.

“You built the house connected to the caves,” she murmured.

Beside her, he nodded, “I’ll give you ten minutes head start.”

“How long to I have to elude you to win?”

“An hour.”

She shook her head, “Half an hour.”

“Forty five minutes,” he volleyed.

“Forty.”

At this, he leveled at stern look at her, “Forty.”

Lilah looked up at him, her eyes narrowed, “You’re serious.”

“I am.”

Pursing her lips, she turned her attention back to the cave, “Alright.”

Brasa touched her arm, leaning into her space, “Don’t get lost.”

She huffed and rolled her eyes, but stepped into the cave, one hand on the wall to maintain her balance.

Behind her, Brasa said, “Ten minutes,” and closed the door.

The darkness was a physical thing, pressing in on her from all sides. Lilah’s heart picked up, anxious. She took a deep, steadying breath, and started walking. And then she jogged. And then she ran. Lilah didn’t stop to question the fact that she could still see the path before her in the darkness, though it strained her eyes. She also didn’t stop to think about where she might be going.

Exhilarated, Lilah picked up speed, taking turns at random, until her legs burned. It was only when she stopped to rest, leaning against the wall of the cave, that she realized she’d reached a dead end. There was no telling how much time had passed. And, not wanting to make it too easy for him, she doubled back and picked a new path.

Unable to keep a sprinting pace, Lilah slowed to a jog. Her legs still burned, and it took a couple hundred yards for her to realize that she was jogging uphill. In the distance, there was light. It was dim, a blurry shaft of discolored blue slicing through the ceiling to touch a ramp of stone beneath. She headed for it.

The climb was steep, and she had to lay on her belly for the last few feet as the rock met the ceiling. Shifting to her back, she scooted until she was looking up through the hole to the darkened sky above. Dotted with stars, it stretched over her entire field of vision. Lilah stared at it for far too long before she reached up and tried to figure out how she was going to angle her body out of the hole.

Hands grabbed at her ankles. Startled, Lilah kicked out with both feet. She caught him across the body, but failed to move him or gain enough traction to propel her up and through the hole. Unceremoniously, she was dragged back into the dark.

The stone scraped across her back. Her voice echoed back to her, a yell that wasn’t quite convincingly scared. She was smiling, even as she slowed to a stop beneath him.

“How did I do?”

Crouched on all fours above her, Brasa smiled indulgently, “Thirty three minutes.”

“Bullshit.”

He laughed, the pad of his middle finger tracing over her hairline, down her temple, and around her ear, “I wouldn’t lie about this.”

Frustrated that she’d gotten so close and still hadn’t won, Lilah braced one foot on the stone ramp, using the other to catch him at his center of gravity and push with all her might. To her great surprise, he rocked back far enough that she could get to her hands and knees. Fingers digging in, Lilah scrambled up towards the hole.

She got about five feet. Which, to be fair, was farther than she thought she’d get. He was on her, pushing all his massive weight into her back and forcing her arms and legs to collapse beneath her. All the air pushed out of her lungs, Lilah couldn’t even gasp as he pinned her down with an arm across her shoulder blades.

Just to goad him, Lilah wriggled, trying to work her hands into a more favorable position. She moved not an inch, but that didn’t keep her from grinning.

Brasa growled, the sound coming back to her in waves as it bounced off the walls. Though more savage then she normally heard from him, it hardly struck her as menacing as he might have intended. She cut off the laugh at the back of her throat, but not before he heard it. A hand grabbed at her chin, catching it from beneath and arching her head back.

“It would be a mistake to think you can overpower me.”

From any other mouth, Lilah might have been enraged enough to yank her chin out of his grasp and headbutt him in response. As it was, she could feel his amusement through the bond and knew he was enjoying the game as much as she was.

“One day,” she said over her shoulder, “I won’t have to.”

“Is that so?”

She nodded as much as she was able to, “You’ll never see it coming.”

He hummed, his lips touching her neck in a light kiss, “I look forward to it.”

“Say that again when I’m done with you,” Lilah shot back, unthinking.

At this, Brasa chuckled darkly, his hands adjusting their grip so that he could balance his body over her. More little kisses over her neck and down her shoulder until he met the collar of her shirt. He nosed beneath it, teeth scraping.

Lilah shivered, holding still while he did as he liked, her breath loud in her ears. Brasa let go of her chin in favor of pulling her shirt down over her shoulder. Lilah’s head dropped down to her chest, eyes closing.

She thought that he might tear into her clothing, pull it free from her body to get at more skin. He didn’t. Slow, measured kisses kept coming on every available inch, until he’d left no space unloved. Then, he shifted his weight behind her and pushed her shirt up and over her breasts, his mouth trailing down her spine.

Her bra snapped open, hanging down uselessly as he kneaded her breast. Brasa worked his way down her body, hands massaging over her sides until they met the waistband of her shorts. Wrists rotating, he caressed over her belly and pushed down into her panties. One hand held her steady as he teased the sensitive flesh in the crease of her thigh, a light pressure guiding her legs a few more inches wider.

Once she was in position, he slid two fingers down to her center, rubbing through her folds gently. Lilah bit her lip, focused on every movement of his hand as he explored. Firm pressure on her opening, and then he was pushing into her. A slow, careful intrusion that left Lilah breathless. She pushed to her elbows, hip rolling to get more.

He tugged down her shorts as far as they would go, pulling his fingers free to circle her clit. She whined, little tremors of sensation shaking her nerves. His other hand reached down to enter her from behind, working in concert with its counterpart to ease her towards the upswing of pleasure.

It was slow, but firm enough to keep her on edge, biting back begging words that may or may not sway him. Lilah focused on the rhythm as it picked up just the tiniest bit, focused on undulating back onto him, getting him as deep as she could. Her hands flexed on the ground below her, the scrape of the rock adding to the sensations buzzing all over her body.

Chasing the high, Lilah used what little strength she still had in her arms to push upright, letting her hips fall with the weight of gravity into his hands. She groaned, head tilted back, neck arched to the ceiling.

Brasa drew a shuddering breath behind her, and she heard him swallow. Lilah rose up with a little swivel, rocking back down with another, smaller sound of need.

It took little time for Brasa to right himself, to gain his focus back. The fingers on her clit circled a little too fast, though he held his other hand still, let her fuck herself on it as she liked.

“Is this what you need?” He asked, teeth nipping at her ear.

Lilah shook her head, reaching up high with one hand to see if she could brace herself against the ceiling. Her fingertips barely touched to rock above, skimming the surface ineffectually. Giving up on the notion, Lilah’s arm bent at the elbow so that she could tangle her fingers in his hair at the scalp.

She could feel it coming, rising up within her body, slicing through from the center outwards. Lilah fought it, forcing her body to slow down, wanting him to fill her before she came. Her mouth opened to say so, but the words came out as a long, agonized moan.

“Tell me what you need, querida,” he said, his breath fanning over her skin.

Behind her, Brasa was fire hot, the heat scoring all along her back, and inside her, everywhere he touched. She could feel how much he was holding back, the muscles of his thighs tense where she sat astride him.

“You,” she managed on a choked sob, “I need you.”

He loosed an oath, arms tightening around her. His chest expanded on a harshly drawn breath as he buried his face into her neck, “Let me make you come first, then I can—“

“No,” Lilah cut him off, “Now.”

She felt him shake his head, felt him begin to touch her in earnest, felt how close she was to cresting over the edge into orgasm. Again, she fought it. The hand in his hair clenched into a fist, pulling hard as she repeated ‘now’ to him in fierce demand.

A growl ripped from his chest. He withdrew his hand, yanking down his pants and positioning his cock at her entrance. Then, with no further preamble, he pulled her down onto him. Hard.

Lilah, already too close, felt every muscle in her body seize in blinding pleasure. It held itself aloft, suspended for several seconds until it dropped down into her cunt so hard that Lilah could no longer keep herself upright. She fell forward in a limp mass of shaking limbs, the sharp staccato of her voice sounding off the walls.

“Are you…” she heard him ask, followed by a loud hiss, both his hands finding her hips and squeezing.

He began to move, then, thrusting hard through the contractions, drawing out her orgasm as he sought his own. The movements were short, harsh, the pace picking up rapidly. Above the sound of his skin slapping against hers, Lilah could hear him grunt with the effort, swearing intermittently, until he pushed so deep that she didn’t think he could go any further. He pulsed inside her, his hips grinding against her ass, hands holding her both still and steady.

She lay like that in his hands until he pulled out. He adjusted first his own pants and then her shorts, rolling her to her back. Her hands and knees protested, the change in pressure letting blood back into them. She rolled her wrists, trying to ease the feeling.

“Are you alright?”

Lilah nodded, swallowing around the tightness in her throat, “I’m good. Just need a minute.”

As she lay there, catching her breath, Brasa massaged her legs from calves to hips, helped her to snap her bra back into place and right her shirt. He then kissed her lightly, taking her hand in his.

She smiled at him, “We should try that again sometime.”

“We should.”

Hooking a finger into the collar of his shirt, Lilah pulled him down for a deeper kiss, tongue touching at his lips in a gentle tease. At least, it started as a gentle tease. Still riding the feeling of the orgasm she’d just had and with his come dripping from her folds, Lilah pulled him closer, hands roaming his chest. Brasa leaned into her, and she could feel the razor sharp edges of his fangs, could taste the venom in his kiss.

She pulled away, breathing hard, “As nice as this is, we have a bed that is made of clouds and I would very much like to fuck you on it.”

He smiled, “Whatever you need.”

#from dusk til dawn #from dusk til dawn: the series #In the Bond

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downwiththeficness · 3 years

Text

In the Bond-Chapter 22

Word Count: ~7,200

Warnings: Blood

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13

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Lilah might have been knocked out by the blow to the head Benny gave her, had she not been properly fortified a few hours before. She took the cue, and let herself go limp. As they bound her in handcuffs, she broadcasted across the bond that she’d been taken. There was no response. Not the unholy fire of his rage. Not a reassuring ‘I’m on my way.’ Nothing. Lilah couldn’t even feel the bond activate.

Subtly flexing her wrists, Lilah rolled to her side in the back of the van, trying hard not to grunt as they sped over uneven ground. Straining her left arm and every muscle of her neck, Lilah eyed the cuffs they’d slapped onto her. There were symbols carved crudely into the metal. They glowed faintly in the dim light, sending little shimmering reflections onto the skin of her wrists and forearms. She glared at them, wondering what kind of magic had been put into the cuffs.

Lilah had little time to contemplate it. The van skid to a stop in complete darkness, she could discern nothing through the windows on either side. Forcing herself to relax in the restraints, Lilah listened as the van door slid open and closed. The back doors swung open and hands grabbed at her, throwing her over a shoulder. Arms hanging awkwardly behind her, Lilah was carried through an opening in a rock face and down into a small cavern lit with a few lanterns scattered through the space.

They dropped her onto a platform, giving her as much attention as a forgotten suitcase. She tried to listen to their conversation, but the lowered whispers were cut short. Benny walked in, and though she couldn’t see him, she could certainly discern that he was gloating—mainly because he didn’t shut the fuck up about it. For at least five minutes, Lilah listened to him talk about having captured Brasa’s bondmate, having infiltrated his lair, having beaten an enemy.

In an effort to save her sanity, Lilah wiggled to an upright position, fixing the entire room with a glare. There were four of them standing in a group, Benny not far away. Three men. One woman. And Benny. She eyed them, her lip curling when she recognized Naya among them. The woman was avoiding her gaze. Good.

“You gonna let me out of these?” She taunted, shrugging her arms forward to indicate the cuffs.

Taunting was a risky strategy, but Lilah felt comfortable pushing buttons. Rather, she was annoyed enough that pushing buttons came as naturally to her as breathing.

Benny smiled. It wasn’t nice, “Not just yet.”

Lilah rolled her eyes, “Scared I’ll make a stunning escape?”

He laughed, stepping towards her and kneeling, “Those cuffs are covered in Xibalban magic. Keeps you from telling you lover where you are. Not yet, at least.”

Well, that confirmed why she couldn’t reach Brasa. She’d have to try another tactic.

“You need him to open the portal, don’t you? You’ve tried twice now without his heart, and you can’t fucking do it.”

Benny’s mouth thinned, and Lilah sensed his anger spike. She also sensed that she’d missed the mark, but couldn’t quite figure out why. He rose and returned to the group, asking one of them to go out and get the bags from the van. She watched Benny amble to a large circular indention in the cave wall. He touched it reverently. That had to be the portal.

Looking over his shoulder at her Benny asked congenially, “Do you know how I found you? All tucked away underground?”

Lilah let her expression relax into apathy, choosing only to lift a brow. Let him think what he wanted about that.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a phone. Lilah recognized the black and blue case, the cheap model making it perfect for tossing at a moment’s notice.

“If you’re going to keep tracking software on your device, you should probably take better care of them.”

Lilah allowed herself to sigh. It really didn’t matter how he’d found her. She could (and would) be angry with Seth later. She would also find a way to better encrypt their apps.

Looking disappointed at her lack of response, Benny returned the phone to his pocket and turned his attention back to the portal. He spoke periodically to the others, hands touching here and there around the indentation. It took little to no cognitive effort to figure out that he was definitely going to make another attempt. She only hoped that this one would be as unsuccessful as the last.

Scooting to the back edge of the platform, Lilah let her shoulders sink down so that her hands fell below the stone lip. As quietly as she could, Lilah started scraping.

The guy Benny had sent out returned, loaded down. He dropped the bags in front of Benny with as much ceremony as he had done with Lilah.

“You got everything?” Benny asked, his voice quaking with eagerness.

“I did.”

Benny patted his shoulder, “Excellent. Help Naya set up.”

From the bag, they pulled—the fucking cup, knife, staff, and the god damned book. Lilah felt her jaw go slack as she tried to figure out how they’d managed to get them. They would have had to have broken into Brasa’s private office. Her angry gaze went to Naya, the only link between their groups. Lilah allowed herself the leeway to break her ‘let’s try to be diplomatic’ rule with her.

“Now,” Benny said, looking smug, “You might be wondering how I’m going to get the heart of a Xibalban.”

She wasn’t...but now that he mentioned it…

He shot a conspiratorial look at her, “We both know that Brasa won’t give his up willingly.”

Lilah felt a strange sense of irritation that not only was he going with the villain’s monologue, he was also going to use her as bait.

She sneered, “He won’t do it for me, either.”

This was debatable.

That stupid, smug expression on Benny’s face got even more smug, “I guess its good that I don’t need him. Not anymore.”

Her stomach dropped. Evidently, he was going to put a new spin on an old cliché.

Benny touched her cheek, “Not when I have you.”

Repulsed, Lilah pulled away, “I’m not Xibalban.”

“No,” he drawled, his voice rising in song-song, “But, he’s been feeding you—he’d be stupid not to after what happened yesterday, and we both know he’s not stupid.”

Lilah swallowed, keeping quiet, anxiety crawling up her spine. She recalled every argument she and Brasa had ever had about how the bond changed her, and wondered if it had gone far enough that the heart beating in her chest would be enough to kick start the ritual.

“I know how bonding works, despite not having yet claimed my Naya—couldn’t have him know I’d sent a spy into the castle.”

God. Fucking. Damnit. They’d let her right in because Lilah had asked for diplomacy, had asked to bring more culebras to the table. Regret stirred shallowly in her belly, bubbling with acrid bile that nauseated her. Lilah set her jaw, deliberately setting the feeling aside so that she could deal with what was happening in front of her. She could feel bad about how they got here later. Now, the only goal was to get out the cave alive and (relatively) intact.

Benny watched all of these thoughts play out in her expression with self-satisfaction. She returned his gaze with a hard stare of her own. There was no helping the way her heart pounded in her chest, or the fierce rush of adrenaline in her veins. But, she could face him head on, show him that she wasn’t afraid. That, she could do.

Mouth curling, Benny rose, his attention focused on ensuring that ritual was set up for maximum efficacy. Lilah took advantage of the group’s distraction, scraping at the cuffs. She had no hope of actually breaking them open, but she might be able to disrupt the symbols enough to open the bond.

Acutely aware of any attention Lilah garnered, she kept at it. Her wrists sore, she dug further and further into the platform while pressing hard against that place in the back of her mind where the bond normally rested. Minute after minute passed, and she began to worry that she wouldn’t be able to reach out in time.

She could feel the anticipation for the start of the ritual rise in the room, the occupants moving with more purpose. There were smiles and little shared laughs, low voices talking excitedly about being able to finally finish their plan. Lilah kept having to shove down the fear with every step forward in the ritual they completed.

Those fears appeared to be unfounded. The bond exploded in her head, a starburst of flame that temporarily blinded her. Hunching over, she tried to ease the ache that bloomed in her shoulder and temples while simultaneously keeping the others in the dark about her success.

I’m here. I’m here, she repeated, hoping he could hear her over his own rage.

Where? Tell me where!

She told him. Lilah relayed that she was okay, but that she didn’t have much time.

Let me through, he demanded. All the way, Lilah.

The shake of her head was stopped with only sheer force of will, I can’t. They’re using magic. I can’t get the bond open enough.

It was then that she felt him burst into action. He would find her, and soon. Her ears rang with an inhuman, vengeful roar.

Opening her eyes, Lilah checked to see if anyone had noticed. They hadn’t. She just barely resisted a sigh of relief.

Benny picked up the book from where he’d set it down, flipping through the pages until he found what he wanted. In his other hand, he held the staff, the glint of metal somehow ominous despite the fact that Lilah had held the thing, herself, not long ago. His voice called out in Xibalban with none of the fluency Lilah was used to hearing. The sharp, almost guttural language became sloppy and disjointed on his tongue. It worked, nonetheless.

The ground shook with growing tremors, dust kicking up. Benny raised the staff and slammed it down. The sound of it was disproportionately loud. It rang with the crunch of stone, the howl of an unfelt wind. The tremors ceased. Gingerly, Benny let go of the staff. It stood on end, glowing faintly with the same light as the cuffs.

And then his eyes turned to Lilah. He gestured to her and two of his people walked forward. They grabbed her on either side and dragged her bodily so that she could be presented to Benny. Lilah glared at him as he brandished the knife. The aged metal glinted with a fresh sharpening, the handle fitting easily in his hand.

In almost any other situation, she would be talking, trying to delay. Lilah found that the words wouldn’t come. She had nothing to say to him. There were very few options for her at this point, so late in the game, and none of them were particularly palatable.

“Release her,” Benny ordered. When Lilah’s brows came together in confusion, he continued, “I want him to know where you are. I want him to find your body as I give your heart to our new lords.”

She felt the urge to spit at him, to gloat that not only was Brasa on his way, he was ahead of schedule—hopefully fast enough to save her and slaughter them. Lilah said nothing, her hands flexing as the cuffs came off. With the increased variability in movement, she added a few more options to her small list of choices.

Benny paused with a false look of surprise, “Nothing to say?”

Lilah pretended to think, mouth screwing up to one side. Then, with as much sass as she could manage, she raised her hand and lifted a single finger.

Seth’s voice sounded over Benny’s indignant growl, If you can’t beat ‘em, piss ‘em off. Angry people make mistakes.

Lilah had definitely pissed Benny off. The knife rose above her, his arm crossing his chest, telegraphing that he was going to swipe the blade over her face in retaliation. Lilah did the only thing she could think of. The hand flipping him the bird became a closed fist and shot out to punch him as hard as she could in the groin.

The effect was as expected. Benny doubled over, which put the knife within reach. She got her hands on his wrist and dug her thumb in before her own arms were grabbed by the culebras on either side of her. Planting one foot on the ground, she yanked first towards her and down, then up and away, breaking his grip.

It was at about that time that Lilah was pulled off balance, thrown to her side. Benny backpedaled away and out of of her reach. She had the knife, though, which Lilah counted as a win. She took the inertia of the fall and kept going until she’d rolled right underneath the guy on her right. He pushed down, laying his weight on her in an attempt to keep her still. Lilah held the knife to her chest, using her legs to lift him just enough to angle the knife up until it sank into the center of his chest. Too low. She risked losing control of the blade by adjusting her grip and utilized every muscle in her core to pull up until she hit her mark.

The dust of his body hadn’t yet settled before her arms were grabbed once more by the other culebra. Lilah let her body fall slack, hanging from his grip. Then, she slammed one foot down to get enough leverage to catch his hip with her free leg. He stepped back to keep his balance, giving her room to repeat her previous technique and aim for his crotch. She missed, but he reflexively let go of her arms to protect one of his most vulnerable areas.

Lilah landed hard on her ass, drawing her hands and the knife into her chest. She stood and stumbled back until she hit the wall, her eyes frantically trying take stock of the room. Benny and his goons formed a three person wall in front of her, Naya’s nervous face blurring in the periphery. She stared them down, ready to continue fighting until Brasa got there or they cut her heart out, whichever came first. Dust and blood spotted the air, her bare feet standing on solid rock. Lilah breathed deep and prepared for whatever wold come next.

Above the pounding of her own heart, Lilah heard a roar that shook every bone in her body. She nearly fell over with the force of it. Not a moment later, Lilah was smiling with relief.

Benny shoved his compatriots towards the opening, “Go get him!”

They went.

And then he did what all cowards do. He ran, leaving Naya standing alone. Lilah took a moment to note which way he’d gone, then turned her attention to the whole reason he was able to get her here in the first place.

Baring her teeth, Lilah bit out, “You betrayed us.”

Naya lifted her head high, “You betrayed us first.”

“We gave you a home.”

“No,” Naya replied, shaking her head, “You gave us another master to obey.”

Lilah felt the anger she’d been feeling all along blossom into incredulous rage, “And you think they will be any different? Do you know what they do to culebras in Xibalba? No, don’t answer that. Answer this: Did you know that Benny would have to offer what would amount to his entire following to them in sacrifice the second the portal opens?”

At this, Naya hesitated, “That is not what he intends.”

Her eyes narrowed, “What the fuck does that mean?”

Naya’s mouth pulled down in distaste, “We aren’t opening the portal to let them through. We’re opening it so we can kill them, too.”

At this Lilah rolled her eyes so hard that she thought they might actually fall out of her head, “You can’t even beat one Xibalban, Naya. What makes you think you can kill of an entire dimension of them?”

Naya knew. She knew the plan was going to fail. There was resignation in her eyes—eyes that looked to where Benny had run. Lilah wondered how she felt about being the bondmate to such a person. She wondered if Naya had negotiated a delay because she knew what Benny was, what he could drag her into if she wasn’t careful.

Lilah watched the other woman follow Benny through an opening in the other side of the cave, wishing she had the courage to follow her and finish it. As it was, Lilah was just too tired to keep fighting. She dropped her arms to her side, but was unable to put down the knife—she wouldn’t, not until she felt safe.

He swept in with all the power and command afforded to him, bringing with him heat that fairly ignited the air. Righteous and angry, Brasa took in the empty room, the ritual tools, the bloody symbols, and Lilah. His relief was palpable, the temperature cooling almost instantly. She stood, frozen, not quite believing her eyes, not quite ready to think that it was over. But, there he was. And, here she was. Alive.

Dropping the knife, Lilah ran for him, arms around his neck, a sob on her lips. He squeezed her to him, his face buried in her hair, coffee and caramel wafting from his skin. They stood like that for a long time, bodies swaying, until the sound of an approaching car filtered through the opening.

Lilah pulled back, angling around Brasa’s wide body to peer out into the darkness. Headlights flashed, the engine cut off. Car doors opened and slammed closed, followed by arguing, angry voices. She smiled, shaking her head.

Armed, the Geckos stormed into the cave. They clocked Lilah and Brasa, noted the lack of assholes to kill, and dropped their weapons.

Seth gestured to the room, “The fuck happened here?”

Lilah shrugged, “Uh, I got kidnapped and they tried to cut out my heart to open the portal.”

He sucked his teeth, frowning, “Looks like they didn’t do that.”

“Looks like it.”

“And, how did you manage that?”

She cocked a hip, crossing her arms, “I punched Benny in the dick.”

Beside her, Brasa breathed a soft laugh, the word ‘impossible’ passing his lips as he moved to look at the symbols drawn over the closed portal.

A gloved hand touched one near the bottom, “This is incorrect.”

Standing, Brasa moved to pick up the knife she’d dropped, his free hand scooping up the cup. He stood, brandishing both with half a smile, “At least they didn’t take the ritual tools with them.”

Lilah rolled her eyes, “At least.” Then, “They still got away—oh, hey, Naya was a mole.”

Brasa stilled, his dark brows coming together, “Really?”

“Uh huh.”

“I’ll have Javier screen our applicants more thoroughly.”

That was it. No anger. No frustration that she’d gotten so close without them noticing. Just acceptance and a plan to keep it from happening again. Lilah envied that kind of level headed attitude. If were her—and it technically was her—Lilah would be through the roof with rage. To be fair, they both had other things to worry about and HR hiring practices was not high on the list.

Richie peered at the staff, looking down its length, “Looks like they got the party started, at least.”

“They did,” Lilah confirmed, picking the tome up off the floor, “I think having the book helped.”

Brasa set the cup and knife on the platform Lilah had been sitting on, taking the book from Lilah, “Since we’re here, I think we should go ahead and do what needs to be done.”

She eyed him, “You’re ready?”

He nodded.

From near the mouth of the cave, Seth holstered his gun, “What do we do?”

Brasa looked at him, “Keep guard. I can do the rest.”

Richie took a position near the opening Benny and Naya had run through, crossing his arms as he leaned against the stone wall. The lenses of his glasses glinted in the lantern light, his mouth thin. Lilah looked from him to his brother, saw the seriousness with which they were taking their part in this. It sobered her.

She turned to Brasa, “What do you need from me?”

He set the book aside, taking her hand and pulling her close, “I’m going to lose a lot of blood. I’ll text Javier, he has a cache for me. But, until he gets here, I’ll be...hungry. I’ll be blind with it, won’t be able to think of anything but feeding. Do you understand?”

Lilah nodded, despite not quite believing that he could be anything but the calm, determined person she’d come to know.

Brasa leaned further into her space, “Even in that state, I will know you. Only you. Keep me calm until Javier gets here.”

“I can do that,” she said, her voice cracking on the last word.

He searched her face, evidently finding what he was looking for. Pulling out his cell, Brasa sent off the text, then set the phone down. Then, he began to tug off his gloves. The glossy leather landed on the platform, and he immediately began to work on the cuffs of his shirt. He stripped it from his body, letting it fall to lay near his gloves. From his pocket, he pulled an oh-so-familiar knife. Lilah nearly smiled, remembering the last time she’d seen that knife. His belt, his shoes, socks, slacks, and briefs followed, leaving him standing naked before her.

Lilah found herself looking away awkwardly, though she’d seen him laid bare over and over. From behind her, she could hear Seth rolling his eyes. Thankfully, the man kept his mouth shut. Richie, however, was not so conscientious.

“We gonna get dinner with this show?”

Brasa cast her friend a baleful look, red taking over the brown of his eyes. Saying nothing, he picked up the cup and knife, getting to work. The blade sunk into the skin of his forearm, blood falling to the vessel in a heavy pour. He let it fill until the cut began to heal, stemming the flow. Then, he dipped two fingers into the cup and began to cover Benny’s markings in his own blood, the wet sound of his paint filling the empty air.

Lilah stood to the side, both disgusted and fascinated by the way he moved. She had spent many nights watching him study the book, his eyes tracing the symbols he was now painting on the wall. He worked with the confidence of someone who had rehearsed this many times in his head, until he’d not only gone over the initial markings, but added an uncountable number of his own. When he finished, the cup was nearly empty.

Brasa opened the book and set it next to the staff, still standing on end where Benny had placed it. He faced the portal, steadying himself. In a low voice, he spoke. Long, complex sentences sounded in cadence from his lips. The rhythm was a physical thing, pounding into the ground in a way that Lilah could feel through her bare feet.

Static sizzled in the air, power building in the room as goosebumps rose on her skin. Frightened by the escalation, Lilah looked back at Seth. His attention was on Brasa, his eyes focused intently as he watched for danger. Across the room, Richie had pushed from the wall, his hands in his pockets.

Brasa’s voice rose in volume, and when Lilah looked back in his direction, she was surprised to see the entire wall lit up. His blood glowed with orange fire, smoke wafting faintly from the stone. She resisted the urge to get closer, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

He kept going, until he was nearly yelling, the force of the magic he was working creating a physical wind that began to push her back. Lilah, with effort, held her ground, gritting her teeth as it picked up.

As whatever the fuck he was doing grew to a crescendo, Brasa raised the knife and slit his own throat. The depth of the cut, the angle with which he slashed, sent a spray of blood onto the wall. It kept going, spurting out in a waterfall of red that soaked the portal. Lilah could not contain the scream, the sound of it ringing out above the wind in her ears.

She kept screaming, unable to even move as more and more blood burst forth from his body. The symbols on the wall burned with a light that cast him entirely in shadow. His wide shoulders tipped back, chest bowing under the weight of the magic that cracked the stone wall down the center of the circular indention.

With what had to be unimaginable strength, Brasa took hold of the staff and thrust it into the crack. It sank deep with a metallic ting. The rock crumbled, falling down to the ground at Brasa’s feet, leaving an empty opening that appeared to lead to nowhere.

Quite suddenly, the oppression of the magic in the room dissipated, leaving them all standing in nothing but silence and the lantern light. Brasa stumbled back a step, then fell. Lilah knew that she would never forget the sound of his body hitting the ground, the way the staff rolled uselessly from limp fingers.

The second her feet could move, she was scrambling to him, landing hard on her knees. Hands shaking, Lilah held them above his body, trying to figure out what she could do. It scared her that he was so still. It also scared her that she couldn’t feel any heat coming from his skin. Tentatively, she touched his throat.

The wound was clean, but so deep that she could tell he’d severed his own windpipe all the way through. If she were so inclined, Lilah could sink her fingertips into the cut and feel the bone of his spine. Tears formed in her eyes, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Lilah just kept staring at it.

Shoes appeared in her periphery, “Is he…?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

Seth knelt next to her, a silent comfort while she waited for Brasa to come back from a move that she was absolutely going to yell at him about later.

From the other side of the room, Richie called out, “He needs to feed.”

Lilah glared at him, angry at the interruption to her grief. And then her face relaxed as she realized that he was right. On her hands and knees, Lilah crawled a few feet and snagged the knife from where he’d dropped it. She returned to Brasa’s side, hesitating only a moment before she dug it into her arm.

Grunting, Lilah kept going until her blood flowed freely. Breath still, she held the wound over his open throat, trying to keep from wasting it. The wet plop of each falling drop made her physically ill, fear turning her stomach. She swallowed down the bile and made herself keep her arm in place.

Slower than hours before, but faster than it had any right to be, the wound began to close. Lilah leaned on her hands, eyeing him for more signs of healing. She could see where her blood had coated the inside of his neck, but didn’t know what to look for. Everything looked the same—red, glistening flesh.

It wasn’t until his eyes fluttered beneath his closed lids that Lilah felt herself begin to breathe again. Cupping his cheeks, she whispered his name, careful not to jostle him. Though faint, she could feel his body begin to warm, a tremor working its way over his limbs.

“Thank God,” she whimpered, an unfathomable weight lifting.

“That’s one way to put it,” came an amused drawl from across the room.

“Shut up, Richie,” Seth and Lilah barked in unison.

Though his eyes remained still, Brasa began to show more life. Encouraged, Lilah slashed her arm again, hoping to speed the process along. As he soaked up more of her blood, she could see the muscles all along his throat quiver, the fibers knitting together.

Two more times, Lilah opened herself up for him, until her arm began to ache. By then, his body had rebuilt his carotid and jugular, his windpipe sealing together. Air pulled through and into his body with a high pitched whistle, his chest expanding the slightest bit.

Lilah hovered over him, watching helplessly as his skin began to seal together. So focused was she on his throat that she didn’t notice he was looking back at her until a soft, strange sound hit her ears. Startled, Lilah touched his cheek, saying his name.

He didn’t seem to recognize her, his gaze unfocused and glassy. She’d seen that look before, recalled that it had taken him several minutes to come back to himself. He blinked sleepily at her through dark lashes, the rest of his body still.

Utterly relieved, Lilah leaned down and dropped a short kiss to his mouth. She pulled back a few inches, saying, “Hey. Welcome back.”

He stared up at her blearily, a little crease forming between his brows. Mouth pursed, he attempted to speak, only managing a rasping groan. Lilah hushed him gently, pushing his hair back from his face. Eyes fluttering at the feeling, Brasa lay still and relaxed.

Lilah glanced up at Seth, still kneeling next to her, “I think he’ll be alright.”

Head ticking to the side, Seth scratched the stubble on his chin, “Let’s just hope his assistant gets here before his stomach starts growling.”

Laughing softly, Lilah reached out and touched Seth’s shoulder, a silent thank you for his support. Seth lifted his hand and laid it atop hers, giving it a soft pat. The body beneath her other hand growled. Normally deep and rumbling, the sound came out high pitched and wheezing. It was no less threatening for it.

Lilah looked down, noting his unhappy glare. Eyes red, Brasa focused on Seth, his mouth turned down. She could feel the muscles of his body tense to rise, could sense primal anger reflecting in the bond. On the low end of panic, Lilah pulled her hand away from Seth and shooed him away with it, cooing at Brasa to try soothe the growing fire. She was entirely unsuccessful.

Having gained more strength in the seconds he’d been awake, Brasa’s lips curled back, fangs sharp. His body temperature skyrocketed, limbs shifting restlessly as he worked up the energy to rise. She had to distract him, but her touches, her voice, weren’t reaching through the fog of his fury. Lilah needed something stronger.

With one hand, she grasped the knife, turning it so that the blade faced up. Two fingers pressed hard, until it broke through the barrier of her skin. Very deliberately waving her fingertips on the side opposite to where Seth was carefully crawling backwards, Lilah was pleased when he caught the scent and turned his head towards them.

The tender skin of his wound twisted, but remained intact, he showed no outwards signs of pain. Lilah held her bleeding hand out of his reach for a second or two, ensuring that she had his full attention.

“If you want it, you need to calm down,” she told him firmly.

From not far away, Richie drawled, “You know, Kate did the same thing to me that time I got shot in the stomach.”

“Shut up, Richie,” Lilah ordered, keeping her eyes on Brasa.

He flicked an annoyed look at her, but dipped his chin in acquiescence. She touched her fingers to his lips, biting back a sigh when he drew them into his mouth. The hot muscle of his tongue wrapped around and through them, licking and sucking noisily.

“If he gets rough with you, I’m going to put an entire clip into him,” Seth announced lowly.

Lilah nodded, “Duly noted.”

A scraping sound echoed in the opening to the tunnel that lead deeper into the caves. In the next blink, Richie was gone, dust swirling in his wake. A moment later, he appeared again, dragging one of Benny’s goons along behind him.

“Looks like we got a visitor,” Richie said with a wide, unkind smile.

Lilah didn’t bother to stop Brasa as he sat up, angling himself so that he caged her in with a snarl. She kept contact with him, running her hand up and down his side, ready to react if he attacked the wrong person.

Kicking hard, Richie sent the other guy sprawling across the room towards them, “You want to tell us what you were doing lurking around like a damn, dirty, lurker?”

Lilah would have laughed, but she was too busy being man handled around and behind Brasa. She rocked back, almost tumbling over herself, before righting her body and pushing onto her knees. A steady sound rolled out of Brasa’s chest, the air around him shimmering with heat.

The goon looked from Richie, to Brasa, and back, his mouth open in abject fear, “He just wanted to know if you’d destroyed the portal. That’s all.”

“He being Benny,” Seth sneered. Lilah could hear him cock his gun, and she had no doubt that he was keeping constant aim.

“Yes. Yes.”

Richie tilted his head to the side, “I don’t think you’re going to be giving him that information.”

Knowing he was done for, the goon tried to stand, tried to get his feet beneath him. Brasa moved. Fast. Lilah barely blinked and he had the guy in a fierce hold, teeth tearing into his throat. She tried to keep her breathing even, but couldn’t help the way her adrenaline kicked up. Having only experienced something like this one before, she didn’t have enough information to know how to keep herself and her friends safe while Brasa came back to himself.

He drank deeply, the sound of it smothered by the gurgling screams of the culebra in his grasp. The room spiked with heat, a glowing red pulsing below Brasa’s skin. As the goon went limp, his body sizzled, burning brightly until he was nothing more than ash floating aimlessly to the ground.

Someone made a sound—a rasping, wheezing sound—and Lilah realized that it was her. She realized that her hand was up, as if to somehow stop him. Brasa’s attention turned to Richie, who was nearest to him, and Lilah feared he would turn that awesome power to immolating the other man.

Swallowing down any trepidation, Lilah called his name. It came out in a croak. She cleared her throat and did it again. Brasa finally looked at her, red eyes assessing. Lilah beckoned him over in what she hoped was an inviting way.

He obeyed, crawling over the stone floor towards her. Lilah’s gratitude showed in a carefully controlled exhale. She gathered him into her arms, hoping that he would just rest there until Javier arrived. Hearing him breathe her name told her that he was gaining a semblance of control back, that he at least knew who she was.

Brasa inhaled against her skin, one hand resting at the back of her neck. She felt him wrap an arm around her waist, a firm embrace. He rubbed his cheek against hers, dipping down to touch his lips to her neck. He nuzzled there, and it was almost too late when Lilah realized he was trying to find the best way to bite down.

Her arm snapped up, fingers in his hair. She yanked, pulling him back so that she could look in his eyes—eyes that had bled into black, “No.”

The last thing she needed was for him to inject a healthy amount of venom into her veins, rendering her almost completely useless for an indeterminate amount of time. It would take nothing for him to lash out at Seth and Richie, possibly even Javier. Lilah needed to stay focused and alert for the time being.

Brasa’s mouth formed an adorable pout that in any other situation would have earned him a sweet kiss. Lilah resisted the urge, not wanting to encourage him. Instead, she pulled her legs out from under her, sitting beside him, one eye on the cave opening. Brasa sighed, put out, but followed her lead.

Footsteps sounded, obliterating the calm she’d only just managed to achieve. Brasa growled, the sound taking on the smooth timbre she was used to hearing. He pushed her down so fast that she could do nothing but land on her back, the air knocked out of her. Still growling, he hovered over her, the glow returning to his skin.

Lilah craned her neck to see Javier strolling in with an air of nonchalance. He stopped just inside the cave, looking from one person to the next.

“So, you were successful.”

Seth spoke up, gesturing with the gun in his hand, “Yeah. I think we broke your boss, though.”

Javier smiled, lifting a Trader Joe’s bag, “I brought sustenance.”

“Well, he’s already eaten one person, a la carte.”

Giving a little chuckle, Javier took a step forward only to be met by another warning growl. He cocked his head to the side, considering the scene before him. Then, with a smile that said he’d be talking with Brasa about it later, he tossed the bag within a few feet of them.

“I put a pack of body wipes in there,” Javier announced genially, “I figured things would get messy.”

From around Brasa’s arm, Lilah sent him a smile, “That is appreciated.”

Although it was to be expected, Brasa’s face, neck, and chest, were covered in drying blood. In the moment, he didn’t seem to mind. But, once he was well fed and thinking clearly, it might be another matter entirely.

“I think,” Javier commented lightly, “That we should give them a little privacy, don’t you?”

Seth balked, “He’s half feral. I’m not leaving her alone with him.”

By this time, Richie had crossed (carefully) to his brother. He laid a hand on Seth’s shoulder, “She’ll be fine. He can’t hurt her.”

“You don’t know that,” Seth shot back, eyeing how Lilah was laying prone on the ground.

“Actually,” Richie countered, “I do. Its impossible man. Couldn’t hurt her, even if he wanted to.”

Javier nodded sagely, “Your brother is right. Lady Lilah is quite safe.” Then, “Make sure he drinks them all.”

Though he clearly didn’t believe Javier, Seth allowed his brother to tug him through the cave opening and out into the night. Lilah listened to their voices fade, until all that was left was the lantern light and Brasa crouching over her.

Slowly, Lilah pushed up to one elbow and reached out one hand to snag the bag, dragging it in close. Blindly, she dug around in it. She pulled out a bag of blood, not quite as warm as Brasa would have preferred. When she offered it to him, instead of taking it, he leaned down and sank his teeth into the plastic. It tore audibly, the bag shrinking steadily as he drank.

The first bag emptied quickly, but before Lilah could reach for another, Brasa was up and moving. He grabbed both her and the tote, grip unforgiving. Nearly dragging her, Brasa hustled into the niche left by broken portal. In the shadows, Brasa sat back against the wall and hauled her into his lap. Lilah smiled and let him hug her to his body, let him take whatever comfort he needed.

When the trembling in his body waned, she leaned away and grabbed for a blood bag. He turned his head away when she brought it close, trying to ease her down to lay against his chest.

Lilah scoffed, holding up the bag, “You need to eat.”

He glared at her, a stubborn set to his jaw. She mirrored that stubborn look, wiggling the blood at him. Mouth opening very slowly, Brasa dipped his chin and dug in. Lilah hummed in praise, using her free hand to comb through his errant curls. She didn’t mind feeding him by hand, if that meant that he would eat.

The second bag went as quickly as the first, and was thrown aside so that Lilah could reach for a third. The process repeated in much the same way as it had the first two times. But, when she offered him the fourth bag, Brasa pushed her hand down and leaned his head back against the wall, fatigued.

Lilah set the bag down, resting her hands on top of her thighs as she waited for him to get his second wind. Though she tried to keep still, Lilah couldn’t help fidgeting. Her nerves were still working to come back to baseline, all the excitement of the day catching up to her.

Eventually, Brasa opened his eyes, “Are you alright?”

She paused, then said, “Are you?”

He lifted a shoulder lazily, “I’ve had worse.”

“Worse than slitting your own throat?”

His eyebrows quirked, humor working its way into his expression. Lilah slapped his chest playfully, reaching for another bag. She took his hand and set it firmly in his palm. While he drank, she dug around until she found the body wipes. With as much care as she could muster, Lilah cleaned his skin. Long, smooth strokes that washed away the bulk of the blood covering his chest and neck. When he finished with the blood, she took a clean wipe and ran is over his cheeks and chin.

“There,” she murmured when she was done, “You almost look human again.”

He hummed, hands running up her sides and back down again. Lilah relaxed into the movement, shaking herself and pulling out the last blood bag. Brasa sighed, defeated. Then took it and drank it down, swallowing quickly and heavily.

As he finished, Lilah found herself saying, “You killed yourself. Right in front of me.”

He tossed the bag aside, licking his lips, “I said that I would lose a lot of blood.”

“Not by your own hand,” she retorted, failing to keep the anger out of her tone.

Brasa laid his head back against the wall, saying, “It wouldn’t have made a difference if I told you.” He ran his hand over his face, “You weren’t supposed to see it. I was going to come here, do the ritual, take a day to recover, and come home.”

She would have fought him on it, would have demanded that he let her come along. Lilah didn’t know if he would have even told her where he was going, in that case.

When he was able to stand, Lilah helped Brasa get dressed and threw the ritual tools into the Trader Joe’s bag. Outside, Javier and the brothers Gecko were waiting. Lilah threw the bag into the floorboard of Javier’s SUV, then gave Brasa an assist to sit inside.

Turning to her friends, she said, “There’s still more to do. Benny got away.”

“Fucker,” Seth muttered.

Richie lit a cigarette, “I take it you have a plan.”

“I have some thoughts.”

Seth pulled his keys from his pocket, “I need a drink. Let’s blow this joint—you can tell us your thoughts over a beer.”

#from dusk til dawn #from dusk til dawn: the series #Brasa #In the Bond

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