#these are from my old laptop as well and this brush was custom so i dont have it anymore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

renneiscent · 11 months

Text

Two Sides of The Same Coin

Note: This chapter… is kind of contained NSFW part that I embarrassedly managed to write. So... yeah, pardon my bad grammar and ugly writing.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 8: …but also my heart that yearns for you.

“So, where is this secret coffee shop you talked about?”

I turn and find Jake is putting his wallet inside his pants pocket. We just had finished delightful lunch, our laughter and conversation (mostly my monologues) are still lingering in the air as we walk out from the restaurant. I have no clue about how much Jake paid for today’s lunch but I saw some cash when he paid for our food. It must be so damn expensive. I’m upset that old man didn’t give him free meal or at least discount, at least that’s what I saw judging about how much cash Jake handed to the cashier.

“That’s just few blocks from my flat,” I explain. But that means we will separate too soon if we go grab some coffee right away. I don’t want that.

“Oh,” his brows are raised. I guess he realise that too. “Very well, shall we go now?”

Then Jake calls the taxi for us while I’m hoping for us to hardly get the taxi, but no, the taxi comes right away parked in front of us. He then opens the door for me as the sign to get inside first, which I stop him right away by holding the side of his shirt. I’m thinking to go there by bus, but it is too much of public space. Too many people. Who can ensure that it will be safe for Jake and his transparency while being in the public transportation? I highly doubt that. So it makes taxi is the best option we got so far. Let’s just ask the driver to stop at the bus stop so we can walk to the coffee shop. Yeah, that will do.

“Nothing,” I smile. “Let’s go then.”

The traffic is smooth, which I hate it. I’m hoping it will be crowded and there is going to be traffic jam like usual. It’s Sunday after all, it’s a weekend! But why suddenly people didn’t go out and crowd the whole street like when I spent some time by myself? I take glance on my phone screen, it’s still 5 o’clock but the sky already turns darker rather than usual. Will it rain? As soon as I notice the bus stop, I immediately sign the driver to stop. Jake looks very surprised but he didn’t ask much but just pay the fare again. I hope I didn’t make him broke in one date.

“What was that?” he walks beside me. I look up and read his expression which is now showing confusion and uncertainty.

I cannot help myself but grin. “Nothing,” I lie.

“What’s that grin for?” He lifts one brow, still watching me in perplexed.

I press my lips together, forcing my smile away. “I’m just excited to get some coffee.”

“Right,” he smiles. “As if I didn’t notice your sneaky plan to stop the taxi right in front of the nearest bus stop in your neighbourhood.”

I blush.

I’m trying to counter his statement—which is true and I hate to admit it, but I cannot come up with anything. So I’m just looking away while our hands are brushing each other until Jake chooses to hold mine, his hand covering my hand entirely. Without saying anything, I’m holding his hand and intertwining our fingers together as if they were meant to fit perfectly together.

As we step inside the coffee shop, there are only 4 customers inside; one person is sitting while facing the huge window of the shop and reading a thick novel, two people are sitting not far from the first person while having chit-chat and sipping their lattes, the last person is drowning on whatever on her laptop with a slice of carrot cake and latte as her companion. It makes us don’t have to get in line and directly order the coffee to the barista.

“Good afternoon,” the barista smiles cheerfully to both of us. “Oh—it’s you MC. How have you been? I rarely see you these days. Let me guess… cappuccino for here as usual?”

“Hi Kevin,” I greet him. Since I’m one of those loyal customers here, it isn’t weird that the barista know my name and even my usual order, right? Especially when the shop is near my place and we often have the chance to bump into each other. “Yes, I’ve been busy these days. Now finally have some free time to get my usual order.”

I chuckle. Kevin also chuckles. Only Jake that doesn’t chuckle.

“Of course,” Kevin winks while smiling so wide. “Then what about you, mate?”

“Coffee. Black. For takeaway…” he takes a short pause. “…mate.”

“We don’t stay here?” I ask, confused.

“I prefer spending time in your place,” he winks at me as he tugs the strand of my hair behind my ear.

That’s a sudden strangely hot moment he gives me.

“Oh…” I can feel the heat on my face. “Well then, mine also takeaway please.” And I find Kevin’s face is strangely frowning. Now I understand about what’s happening here. Jake is jealous. I love it. I love the Jealous Jake.

“Good, so 1 cappuccino for you and 1 black coffee for this mate and take away.” Kevin wraps our orders before asking about the warm pumpkin pie on the display or their signature carrot cake or their new muffin like usual. “That will be £5.20.”

Jake takes his wallet out from his pocket and I quickly hold his wrist to stop him from spend more money in our very first date. “No, you promise me I will buy you coffee.”

“Yeah, and I did.” He hands out the cash to Kevin, “would you mind to give the receipt to the lady next to me, Kevin? Oh, you can keep the change.”

“What—well, thanks mate…” Kevin says sheepishly and hands me the receipt before going to make our orders.

I stare at the receipt then stare at Jake who is now leaning on the wall and his eyes are gazing on me, waiting for my response. “Uhm, a little bit help here?”

“You insisted to buy me coffee,” he smiles. “I bought yours and you bought mine. The price is on that receipt you are holding.”

I nod then quickly grope for my wallet inside my purse but then Jake holds my hand and pulls me closer to him. “Later,” he says. “We still have much time.”

I smile, completely amused with his act. I always have this assumption about how much Jake is not PDA person but thinking about today, I need to dump that assumption. Judging from today’s date, he is like a man written by woman; he is gentle, polite, such a sweetheart, that type of guy that you will not be ashamed to bring in front of your friends or family. That type of guy that will make your parents love him more than you as their own child. That type of guy that will make your friends defend him when you have an argument with him. That type of guy that will make you question yourself about what did your past life do until you have him in your arms?

I might sound like I’m really biased but Jake is such a lovely man and it’s such an unfortunate how he is living tough life like this; when a freedom is such a luxury to have. It makes me so eager to discover about his life, to reveal what actually happened until he lost that luxury. But to be honest, I’m kind of scared. Rather than scared with the damage that I will find from him, I’m more scared if my questions, my intention to know him further will bring him to the memory he want to erase. I’m more scared with the questions that in any way will harm him and damage him even more. Because he must have lost so many things, he must have killed so many parts of himself just to stay alive, just to be survived.

We are only a block away from my place, when I’m slowing my pace until stop completely. Jake notices right away as he also stops and turns himself to face me completely, holding the black coffee that he sipped in every minute. He lifts one brow and look at me, perhaps studying me for finding the reason why I suddenly stop when it’s just a block away from our final destination.

Just when I open my mouth intending to call his name, I feel a droplet of water against my skin. It begins with the pitter-patter of the rain but the drops suddenly fall even faster and become a downpour. The sudden heavy rain is pouring and every drop of the water bathes me in until I can smell that fresh and earthy scent. People are rushing and passing past us, seeking for the shelter to run away from the rainfall, but neither of us is moving, neither of us is trying to get away.

Neither of us, until Jake moves first. He throws his cup of black coffee that I’m certain that’s already mixed with the fresh water from upstairs, I throw mine too—I wonder if we will get scold for littering in the middle of heavy rain. His hand reaches my face, despite the cold of the rainfall is that sliding down on my skin, my face, my neck, my body, my everything, and I still can feel the warmth from his skin that brushing me. I still can feel the taste of his lips that strokes against me. I still can feel his body heat that press against me. I still can feel him.

The lips of his as cold as the first snow in the soothing night and as wet as the dew on the grass in the morning, it’s soaked from the rain but then I can feel the warmth of his tongue gently strokes mine. It twirls and dances inside me, giving me life and colour when our surroundings feel little grey because of the rain. Jake’s warm hand is moving to the back of my head and the other hand is holding my waist tightly, wrapping me in his embrace; while both of my hands are clutching on his shoulders as if those already attached with him, becoming him.

Is it our second kiss? I cannot remember. Every time we have kiss, it’s feeling so great, it’s feeling so amazing. It feels like we have done this so many times since his mouth fits mine so perfectly, as if this is our usual routine, as if we are the two pieces of puzzle that matching.

If only it’s not because both of us are still mere human that need oxygen to breath, there is nothing that can possibly separate us right now. I lean on his chest while hoping to hear his heartbeat but only the rainfall that I can hear. He pulls me closer into his arms, embracing me until I can feel his chest is going up and down as he is panting so hard.

“Going to catch the cold, aren’t we?” he chuckles. His words are clear as he speaks next to my temple. “Come on,” he says while pulling me away and taking my wrist, keeping me close as both of us are running. I match my pace with him, both of us are running until we finally reach the entrance of Mister Wright’s building.

“Should check the weather forecast,” I pretend to be disappointed. I’m grateful, absolutely. I cannot help but notice the figure of Jake who is soaked by the rain; how dare he is brushing his drenched hair while the shirt that soaked by water is clinging to his torso, outlining the lines of his abdomen. How dare he do that without thinking the damage that he causes on me?

“Neither did I,” he takes out his flip phone, perhaps checking if the phone still works out or not.

“It feels like the rain is not going to stop any sooner,” I mumble, waiting for him done checking his phone.

“Feels so,” he turns at me. “You should go inside and get change immediately.”

“What about you?”

“Do you have umbrella that I can borrow?”

“And letting you pass through that heavy rainfalls after soaked by the water? No.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Come inside, I believe I have some clothes that you can borrow.”

“How come you have some clothes which fit me?” he lifts one of his eyebrows, there is accusation in his tone. Oh, is he being jealous? I love this overprotective side of him.

“I like wearing oversized clothes when staying at home,” I open the entrance door and beckons him to follow me. “Some of it really big since I bought men outfit. So I believe you can wear it.” As we are going inside, there is so much water over the floor as if there is something leaked. It feels like not only us that got soaked by the sudden rainfall. I hope we don’t get scolded by Mister Wright or maybe I will just make Jake to persuade him in case he’s angry.

When we finally inside my flat, I immediately go to the bathroom and take two towels. I hand one of it to Jake and dry myself with another towel. “Wait here, let me take the clothes,” I sprint toward my bedroom and check my cupboard to see the oversized shirt and pants that I thought will fit on Jake. After I managed to find the right size, I head toward him.

Normally I’m neither feeling shy nor awkward when a guy is taking off his shirt and making him exposed his upper’s body half-naked. Normally. Since I’m growing up with brother who loves to bring his guy friends stay over or spend the weekend together, I’m getting used with that kind of horror scene. But this time is different, well of course it is! I already thought about whatever lies beneath that polo shirt twice—let me remind you, twice! Which is I never did it with other guys before. So when I found Jake with his upper body’s half naked, exposing his bare skin and making me notice that he owns these huge tattoos that covered almost of his back, what do you expect me to do besides subconsciously walk toward him and brush his tattoo with my fingers?

It’s just a small and light touch that I made subconsciously against his back, but he easily flinches and immediately holds my wrist, his gaze on me is intense.

“I don’t know you are a tattoo person,” I comment. “Even the massive one.”

“I’m seriously concerned about your opinion on me,” he escapes soft chuckle.

“That’s why you need to open up,” I click my tongue. “First thing first, may I see it?” I beam.

There is slightest hesitation on his face but then for whatever reason, he relents. Then he turns his back on me, granting me with a great view of his back and of course his tattoos. As my fingers gingerly explore the intricate designs etched upon his skin, I find myself captivated by the artwork that adorns him. Beginning at the upper back, near his nape, a majestic ship with its flag unfurled commands attention. Following the contours of his spine, a meticulously crafted clock, its intricate details resembling a perfectly real image, captures my gaze. Nestled beneath the clock, a compass merges harmoniously with bare branches, their absence of leaves adding more questions for me about the meaning of his tattoo. The compass is connected with a simple design gears, but still meticulously shaped and aligned. As my eyes travel downward, I discover a lighthouse gracefully stretching from his lower back to his loin, elegantly encircled by twin anchors. The expanse of his shoulder blades down to the lowest part of back reveals a symmetrical arrangement of bold geometric lines resembling wings, as if those are fences that keeping the art on his spine to be protected.

While I’m staring on his tattoos, my eyes are catching some scars scattered like there is the constellation engraved on his back. The scars that are faint and covered with the tattoos’ ink make you have to get closely to see them. “This is beautiful,” I says while keep stroking his back. “This is painfully beautiful,” I correct my previous word. With the amount of pain for making this masterpiece, I couldn’t imagine how much he needs to suffer.

He turns to face me, there is something in his gaze that I cannot grasp into it. “I will deliver your praise to the creator,” his lips curl and form a smile.

“So many people must want to get in line to see that masterpiece,” I tease.

“I don’t know about that,” his hip is leaning against the wall while still staring at me. “There are only two people this far.”

“Two?” I lift my eyebrows, feeling upset about the fact that I’m the second. “Who are they?”

“The tattoo artist and you.”

I cannot recall who starts this another round of passionate kiss we are sharing with each other; was it me or was it Jake? The only thing that I can remember that I lean closer to him as his hand glides to my lower back and pulls me against him, and just like that… our lips are pressing into each other again. The kiss is little different this time; it’s still sharing the same passion and affection from the previous, but it’s more deep and somehow more desperate.

He pushes my body and makes me being pinned against the wall, not so hard but it’s so gentle. His hands wrap around me as if I’m a fragile thing and he is afraid to cause any harm. The mouth of his tastes so sweet and I’m certainly addicted with the taste and its sensation he puts under me. He pulls down the collar of my turtleneck, making it expose a glimpse of my skin and he claims the land to be his. He kisses, he nibbles, he sucks, as if he is trying to declare that I’m his.

And he succeeds.

As I cannot help myself but escape a soft moan, my hands are clutching onto his shoulder and grasping it tightly. I perhaps cannot think straight under this situation but I clearly know what I want. And I want him right now, so, so bad. And I want to throw whatever things that crossing Jake’s mind, until it makes him pull away and stares at me with those ocean waves that still calmly welcome me.

“Should I stop?”

That question is clearly rhetorical. He is not asking because he wants to stop, but instead he is asking because he wants me to say it clearly what I want. He wants me to say it out loud, that I, also want him as much as he wants me.

“No,” I trace his bare chest with my finger. “I thought it’s clear that I want you as much as you want me.”

“I hope you are aware that I just wanted to have lunch with you,” he inhales deeply and exhales sharply. “And I didn’t come prepared, not at all,” he nudges his nose on my forehead.

“I hope you are aware that I’m always understanding my menstrual cycle,” I’m peppering his neck with kisses. “And lucky you, it’s already passed my fertile time.”

He clenches his jaw with his eyes are staring at me, it’s growing darker as if the desire he has been holding is finally growing bigger and consuming him. But he still hesitates to make a move.

“No way, is it your first time?” I accuse.

He snorts, feeling offended with my accusation, “I’m sorry to disappoint you but you are not my first.” He lifts his brow, showing that cocky grin that I don’t know that he has. “Is it yours?”

“Of course not,” now I’m the one that feeling offended right now. I don’t know why it feels like we are showing off about the fact that we both already had our first time moment in having intercourse with someone else. “Then, why you still hesitate? Do you have STI?” I accuse him again.

“I’m really strict with the person I’m making love with,” he leans closer and plants another kiss on my temple to my jaw and then my neck. “I can assure you that I’m clean,” his hand is slipping under my shirt as he is breathing and whispering on my ear. “Are you?”

The way he said making love instead of having intercourse or having sex—or worst, fucking someone, really managed to make my heart pounding so hard. “Am I what?” I feel like I’m starting to lose my composure as he begins to claim me again.

“Clean,” he replies shortly as his hand that inside my shirt is caressing my skin. I can feel his warm hand again on me. “Are you also clean, MC?”

“I am,” I answer but I’m not sure if the words managed to escape from my mouth because what I can hear is my moan and his deep breath that are born because of his fingers running all over my skin and my thigh suddenly between his legs. As my knees feel weak and start to tremble, I’m clutching onto Jake and mumble, “let’s move to bedroom.”

Note: Don’t do this, fella. Remember what Uncle Ben said, great power comes with great responsibility. Always use contraception! And always put the trash on the trash bin! Do not littering!

#duskwood #duskwood everbyte #duskwood game #duskwood fandom #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood family #jake x mc #duskwood fanfiction

6 notes · View notes

tenkasato · 3 years

Text

Removing Your Makeup

Prompt: Taking off your makeup at the end of the day

Pairing: Akashi Seijuro x reader

The sigh that left your lips echoed in Akashi Seijuro’s ears.

He looked up from his laptop and watched you slump onto the chair in front of the mirror. You came home rather late tonight.

“How did it go?” he asked, setting aside his laptop to walk over to you.

You let out yet another sigh. Squeezing your eyes shut, you mumbled, “I had a shitty day. Those old windbags were really taking advantage of the fact that I’m just new in this field. One of them even implied that the only reason I was there in the first place is because I’m married to the sole heir of the Akashi Group of Companies.”

Seijuro pursed his lips. The next thing you knew, his hands were rubbing soothing circles onto your shoulders. You relaxed to his touch, instinctively leaning backwards.

“I could do something about that for you,” he started, running his hands down from your shoulders, down to your back, and then to your waist, “but you wouldn't appreciate that, would you?”

“You’re right. I didn’t climb my way up here just to be belittled by pompous grouches who know nothing about what customers want these days.”

Reaching to grab a cotton ball, you added, “I can handle this just fine. You wait your pretty, sexy ass there and watch me win them over.”

“My, pretty and sexy ass you say?” he chuckled, sitting beside you in front of your mirror. “You seem to be on to something, Sweetheart.”

“Wow, so sharp as always, Sei,” you replied with a playful roll of your eyes. “Just let me take a shower and then I’ll give you some.”

The smirk he pulled up sent flutters in your chest. You could see the excitement glimmering in the pair of crimson eyes as he swooped down to plant a chaste kiss on top of your head.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said. “But before that, will you let me give you a hand with that?”

You followed his line of sight and asked, “You mean removing my makeup?”

A grin captured his lips. Seijuro snatched the cotton ball and bottle of makeup remover from your hands.

“You sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Of course,” he replied, with an air of certainty worthy of an Akashi. “I am absolute. Besides, what kind of man am I if I’m incapable of cleaning my own beloved’s face?”

“So dramatic!” you laughed.

He gently dabbed at your forehead and followed it up with another kiss. You blinked in mild surprise as he moved on to the ball of your cheek, rubbing the moist cotton ball gingerly before brushing his lips against your skin. He traced the bridge of your nose. Then, again, a kiss.

“We ain’t finishing at this rate,” you huffed. You grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer, whispering, “Stop teasing.”

A low chuckle reverberated in his chest as he finished wiping your chin. He set the soiled cotton aside. Without preamble, he placed his hand at the back of your neck and smashed his mouth on yours.

The kiss was brief. Hungry. Sweet. The type that offered just enough satisfaction but also made you crave more.

When he pulled apart, Seijuro’s lips were smeared with your bright red, matte lipstick. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well,” you said as you thumbed his lower lip, “that’s another way to remove makeup.”

“I’m known for my creativity,” he shot back with a wink.

“Hey, Sei?”

“Hmm?”

You stared at his eyes, noting the way they softened under the gaze you shed for him. Your heart ached pleasantly, as it always did whenever you remembered that his heart belonged to none other than you.

You smiled.

“Do me a favor, and be the one to remove my makeup from now on?”

Check out my JLT-inspired event announcement here. For the complete list of entries/prompts, check here.

Thank you for reading!

#akashi seijuro x reader #akashi x reader #akashi seijuurou x reader #akashi seijuro #kuroko no basket #KNB #just little things #JLT event #tenkasato writes

450 notes · View notes

sugar-petals · 3 years

Text

SuperM Fluff & NSFW Notes

↳ 🌹aka some of their romantic antics plus random 18+ imagines 👋

warnings ⚠️ rated (super) m, boyfriends hc, porn mentions, partial fem!reader, sex toys

FLUFF

since baekhyun knows how to make scented candles, he creates one for you as a birthday present with your favorite fragrances.

every entry in mark’s diary involves fond thoughts about you.

taemin kisses you more than his cat kkoongie on a daily basis so let that sink in. his smooch obsession is getting out of hand.

lucas, having giant fingers after all, learns how to knit in order to make you a warm scarf. he’s still a bit clumsy with it and had to call kun for advice, but the result is surprisingly proper and quickly becomes your favorite item. it’s a little huge but well, he thinks in his dimensions. lucas’ next project is a beanie.

ten overwhelms you with pet names. in fact, he seemingly seems to come up with a new one each day.

kai is a candlelight dinner, rose petals and music kinda guy. he does every old-school thing in the book.

taeyong can cuddle endlessly in bed. he just doesn’t wanna leave.

lucas gladly shares his sweaters. they’re ginormous so, perfect cuddle material.

baekhyun is already a fool. so — when he falls in love, he becomes an even bigger fool. or, the contrary happens: he becomes dead silent around his partner because he’s so enthralled. he can take this more seriously than you think.

mark likes to write little cards and many many texts to express his love.

lucas is the type who can help you put on your jeans when they were shrinking a bit too much in the dryer. he’s pretty sexy like that and things can get really touchy.

cheesy fucking kai, and there’s only one guy who would do this, has actually lowered himself over a puddle once so you would have a bridge. brushed it off like a daily workout rep.

not one shower missed without baekhyun joining you. yes, it’s not always sexy time, he likes it when you shampoo his hair and whisper sweet nothings. and obviously: it’ll all devolve to a laughing fit.

taeyong is the type who wants to be proposed to.

taemin will get a motorcycle license and take you for a frequent ride. he loves getting those kind of back hugs.

both ten and lucas are great at making bracelets. wayv’s dorm is fully equipped with charms, strings, and pearls, so expect matching ones for you.

we’ve seen it, that one’s his favorite move. kai wraps his hand around your shoulder when you walk together.

mark will ALWAYS share his melon.

making you swoon on a DVD evening is lucas’ favorite hobby. he will buy you the most sugary-sweet romance movies. he will often browse streaming sites to select the latest sentimental plots. all these dramas seem to have a male lead who is suspiciously tall and lanky.

if you allow him, taeyong customizes your white tees with his cute drawings.

since taemin swims in money thanks to his profession as the god of kpop (yes, this is a registered job name because i say so), he can fulfill you any wish. he’s stingy and pouty when the shinee hyungs can pay, and the motherfucker baekhyun is even richer since his albums have been taking off so he opens his mochi wallet when superm is gathered, but you... are a different case. taemin will humbly empty his entire pockets when he overhears you gushing over something. there’s a voice in his mind going: must splurge!!

mark loves christmas, you establish an annual tradition to stage a whole couple evening.

baekhyun likes to play charades and especially do karaoke with you. he’s always cutely wiggling his butt and dances like a drunk uncle. he hits the high notes anyway and makes sure you score 100 points.

taeyong can make out with you while at the same time making sure that the milk doesn’t get burned on the stove. kiss’n’stirr multitask tyong alert. gotta make sure the cocoa is served in time, you know.

all the members enjoy playing board games. yep, imagine the fun and sheer chaos.

lucas has the funniest laugh ever indeed. he’ll react to all your jokes, no matter how lame they might be. intensely reassuring.

taemin’s hand is basically glued to yours.

taeyong and mark are the kinds of boyfriends that spoil their partner with skincare. fancy a nice face massage with a nice fragrant oil?

baekhyun has been baking heart-shaped pizzas ever since you started dating. he just can’t make them round anymore.

mark will join you on anything you’re currently bingewatching.

kai sometimes — only half-jokingly — goes down on both knees bowing forward with his hands on the ground just to show how much he wants to thank you. in case you didn’t notice: this guy treats you like a deity.

ten usually gets confused glances from the other members whenever he gets the current date wrong: he simply loses track of time with you.

lucas makes a habit of buying you flowers every other week. but on unpredictable occasions, and he arranges them in places you’d never expect.

taemin will build you a weird-looking snowman to make you laugh, and give it an even stranger name. ten will build one that looks like you. kai doesn’t build snowmen, he just stands there challenging you to throw snow balls at him.

mark will hang out with you at the beach constantly bringing his guitar. he’ll serenade you all the time.

returning from three months of touring, baekhyun has once climbed your balcony when your parents were in the other room. yep, he was that desperate to see you. somebody give this man a rope and helmet.

taeyong writes down heartfelt confessions on 365 folded slips of paper so you can open one every day. your reactions will range from ‘awwh!’ to straight-up tears.

ten does regular couple yoga with you. a mildly challenging form, not the circus acrobat version. he’ll do the difficult parts anyway. you can pretzel this guy up, he’ll do anything to make you laugh.

when it rains you hook your arm around his, and lucas always holds the umbrella. even the wildest gush of wind can’t make it turn inside out. you arrive home entirely dry. xuxi is so cute, he’s also a great source of cooling shadow in the summer without even trying.

taemin’s skinship overdrive doesn’t stop with endless hand-holding, back hugs and kisses. he wants to lay down in your lap whenever he can. he looks damn pretty with his hair splaying there. if you work on your laptop, you can pretty much count to ten and he’s already nestled there.

kai does pushups with you on his back. it’s a staple. each time he does one, he says ‘i love you’. he increases his count every day.

NSFW

it’s no secret that taeyong is great at acting or pulling off any outfit and costume. expect roleplay of the finest kind — literally. he looks good in a firefighter uniform. you’ll be burning up pretty much automatically.

taemin can’t keep his tongue in. it’s terrible. he’s always in the mood for head. his sloppy noises are the absolute worst, it turns you on way too fast.

lucas had some major problems finding condoms that fit him.

ten and taemin are so switchy, they have an unresolved power struggle going on. begs for a dominant third party to help them out.

kai owns expensive latex gear.

baekhyun may be the king of vocals and breath technique, but if you push him far enough he does get hoarse.

taemin often jokes how kai will one day break his dick from fucking too hard.

meanwhile, mark’s dick is already falling off – from fucking too often. this guy has some major hormones going for him. no surprise, a guy who can promote in four kpop groups at the same time is a stamina king.

taeyong likes eating pussy with another party involved. three’s a crowd my friend. sometimes it’s taemin who unleashes his spit waterfall power, sometimes it’s baekhyun who preoccupies himself with nibbling at the inner thigh while taeyong digs in.

taemin owns the most underwear.

mark takes valerian drops because he is so nervous in bed. it never really goes away, it’s his nature.

taeyong keeps a lube collection. a different flavor for all occasions. he likes associating certain scents with specific body parts.

kai has a heels kink. he literally goes wild over it.

taemin likes to have sex with favorite glasses on.

taeyong and kai are the most likely to cry during sex. baekhyun as well if you rough him up enough.

mark gets rock hard the fastest, followed by kai. he’s a grower.

taeyong gets the best inspiration for a song when he gets a casual dick riding.

taemin watches extremely x-rated erotic thrillers and bdsm flicks that are heavy on the plot. he gets more invested in the characters and actors than you think. since his japanese is amazing? of course he also owns a giant 90s hentai collection.

when he’s jerking off, baekhyun chokes himself. a) because he’d make too much noise otherwise and b) because asphyxiation is his favorite thing.

kai feels pleasure in his every cell. he cums the hardest. and, as you can expect, his body expresses it the most extremely, accurately, passionately. if you’ve seen it even once, you’ll never look at him the same again.

taemin has less experience than his discography claims, but more than you’d think. he researches sexual techniques as well. you can brace yourself.

mark has not just a tiger inside, but a freak inside, waiting to be unleashed.

sex while gaming is a go-to activity for baekhyun.

lucas has the best stamina when it comes to getting head.

taemin throws his head back during sex. and no, he doesn’t T-pose. i’m kidding — of course he does. but only when he’s on his back.

taeyong tends to grip a pillow when he cums.

or he humps one when he’s by himself.

ten has the best taste in sexy time playlists.

baekhyun has the best taste in singing his own playlist along.

oh, the things kai has bought at a gas station at 3AM.

baekhyun sucks strap the best. he can open his mouth the widest, drools a lot, and makes the best noises unsurprisingly.

how to turn on lee taemin? he likes getting slapped.

since he’s the most avid and most diverse eater, lucas’ sperm tastes the best. he’s shove 50 fruits into his system just to give you a sweet experience.

mark is absolutely a starfish.

kai wears fishnet tops if you fancy it.

curiously, baekhyun out of all people doesn’t announce when he’s cumming. you’ll hear it, though.

taeyong’s dildo collection is one for the books.

taemin has visited a pro dominatrix a couple times. needless to say, he was the #1 favorite client at the dungeon. having fully submerged into a fantasy world, taemin was one whip crack away from falling in love with the mistress. but then covid happened and the venue closed.

mark’s dick looks really pretty.

taemin can grind on the strap at every humanly possible angle. he’s almost always ready to take it. he carries a prep kit.

kai — that fucker — knows how to make you wet the most with his bare hands. prepare for the thigh ride of your life, too.

taeyong, baekhyun, and taemin have the best arches. kai is coming for the top three as well. ten’s arch is so good, it can’t be considered one anymore.

baekhyun knows every adult movie out there. theoretically, nothing can shock him. in reality, he melts in your hands.

taeyong is so sexually active with you, he has quit eating garlic.

kai will exploit your muscle kink in any way he can.

taemin, being a devil, has that one button on his phone that he can press when you go out for dinner. he’s OBSESSED with getting you off. once you head home, it’s basically running down your thighs.

ten has once opened a condom with scissors to scare away a date that grew weird on him by the time it got to the do.

lucas is too tall for doing missionary normally.

this will surprise nobody: mark is great at constantly keeping up the dirty talk.

baekhyun’s car is sort of like a brothel on wheels. he can’t count how many times he got down and dirty in there. he cleans it all up by himself.

kai can technically grip you the hardest but he’s the gentlest and great at caressing the whole body.

taemin has the easiest time saying what precisely he wants. he is also the best people reader — most your wishes he can pretty intuit. taemin observes your interests well.

ten likes his hair pulled and makes angelic noises when you do so.

baekhyun likes camgirls and erotic chats with strangers online. he spends a lot of money for nsfw internet encounters.

602 notes · View notes

c-e-d-dreamer · 3 years

Note

AHHHHH DEMON NESSIAN PT 2 PLEASE!!!!! It’s such a fun idea, I love it!!!!! And I need the angst of Cassian making a deal for Nesta 😭

Thank you so much! I'm so glad you liked it. But I have to be honest, I don't know what Cassian's deal is. Like in my head, I know he makes one, but try as I might, I cannot get my brain to think of something clever and/or creative. The obvious answer is of course a soul for a soul, but that feels counterproductive to them living happy and in love sooooo. I even tried to crowdsource with my two besties but they were equally stumped. I mean happy to crowdsource here on what people think Nesta's soul is worth... Anyways! All this to say, this isn't quite what you asked for, but I hope you will enjoy each member of Cassian's family finding out about Nesta. I did throw some angst in at the end for ya ;) TW: for mentions of death

Part One

Another sigh has Cassian’s attention being pulled away from his laptop. He glances over the screen to where Nesta is lounging on his sofa. She had finally given up on her dress, instead opting for an old pair of Cassian’s sweats and a t-shirt. He can’t help but notice how at home she seems to look in his space, legs tucked up under her, her hair down from it’s usual intricate style and pulled back in just a simple braid that falls down across her shoulder. Her eyes snap to his, and he knows he’s been caught staring, so he goes back to the email he was writing.

“If you’re bored,” Cassian starts. “You’re welcome to any of my books.”

“You mean your books that are almost entirely nonfiction?”

“You don’t like my books?”

“What kind of person actually reads and enjoys nonfiction?”

“I find the history interesting,” Cassian defends. Nesta merely rolls her eyes with a scowl in response, crossing her arms across her chest. “You’re not exactly threatening dressed like that, you know.”

Cassian knows he’s made a mistake when he watches Nesta’s eyebrow raise, the way her chin raises just slightly. Her face is a cool mask of unimpressed. Dangerous. Before Cassian can even formulate an apology in his brain, let alone speak it aloud, his laptop slams shut, almost taking his fingers with it.

“Now, that’s just rude,” Cassian quips, but the way the left side of Nesta’s mouth tilts up in a teasing smirk and the glint in her dark eyes almost has him forgetting to mean it. “Look, my last meeting is at 3:00, then we can go to the bookstore and you can get some better books.”

“Fine.”

Luckily, the bookstore is quiet and mostly empty, just a few customers milling about. Cassian lets Nesta lead the way, following behind her as she weaves between the stacks, her hand outstretched and fingers dragging gently against the spines of the different books. She stops in front of one of the shelves, her head tilting as she reads the different titles declared along the spines. The motion leaves a few wisps of her hair falling across her brow, and Cassian shoves his hands in his pocket before he does something stupid like try to brush them aside. She just looks so soft nestled amongst the books, pulling out different ones and reading the summaries on the backs before settling one in the crook of her arm.

“Wait. If I’m the only one who can see you, does that mean people will just see a floating book?” Cassian asks, stepping forward to pluck the book away. “How about I just hold on to the ones you want.”

“Works for me,” Nesta replies, holding out another book for Cassian to take. Soon, he has five books stacked in his arms.

“The full moon is in a week. Are you really going to read all these books in that time?”

“Cassian?” a voice cuts in before Nesta can reply.

Cassian turns toward the end of the aisle to find Mor standing there, a book nestled in her own arms and her face a mask of confusion. She steps closer, eying the books he’s holding.

“Oh uh hey, Mor,” Cassian greets her.

“You know this is the romance section, right?”

“I... thought I’d branch out. Try a new genre.”

Mor reaches forward, taking the top book off the stack. She stares at the cover before flipping it over to read the summary with a snort. When she holds the book up for Cassian, she has her eyebrows raised, an expression that clearly reads ‘seriously?’ Cassian can’t help but grimace, the cliche shirtless man on the cover staring back at him. Maybe she has a point.

“That’s what I thought,” Mor smirks, setting the book back down on the stack. “So, what’s her name?”

“Her name…?”

“Who you’re actually buying these books for?”

Cassian can feel himself floundering as he stares at Mor with wide eyes. He glances over his shoulder to where Nesta is still standing, but the demon just has an amused expression painted across her face. Not helpful. Cassian turns back to Mor who is still looking at him expectantly, but then her features soften.

“Look, you don’t have to tell me, but I fully expect to meet this girl soon.”

~ * * * ~

Cassian is just finishing pulling his hair up and away from his face when the knock on his door echoes throughout his apartment.

“It’s open,” he calls.

He hears the opening and then subsequent snick of his front door, and when Cassian walks out of the bathroom, he finds Azriel standing in his living room. His brother’s eyes are stuck to the floor, his eyebrows pinched and a frown tugging down his lips.

“Why do you have an air mattress out?” Azriel asks.

Cassian’s eyes snap to the offending object, the mussed sheets and pillow making it clear it’s been slept on. At the snort from the sofa, Cassian’s eyes find Nesta’s where she’s curled up with one of her new books. The expectant look on her face and the smirk tugging up the corner of her lips is all teasing, and Cassian narrows his eyes at her in response before turning his attention back to Azriel. Apparently, Azriel saw the entire exchange, or Cassian’s side of the exchange, and his expression has turned from confusion to concern.

“Cass, is everything alright? You know you can talk to me.”

Cassian rubs a hand against the back of his neck awkwardly before letting out a sigh. “Az… what would you say if I told you… I met a demon?”

“A demon? As in…”

“Demon. Like dark eyes, does biddings. Demon. Her name is Nesta.”

Cassian expects Azriel to ask more questions, maybe even call him out for the absurdity of it all, but instead his brother just steps closer, settling a hand on Cassian’s shoulder.

“Are you getting enough sleep?” Azriel broaches carefully.

“You know what,” Cassian cuts in. “Just forget I said anything. Let’s just go.”

Azriel looks like he wants to say more, but luckily, he doesn’t, and the two make their way to the gym, Nesta trailing behind them. Cassian tries to keep his eyes to himself as they start their workout, determined to avoid any more confused or concerned looks from Azriel. It’s easier said than done, though, and Cassian’s eyes keep drifting to where Nesta has perched herself on one of the lifting benches. It especially doesn’t help that her eyes are decidedly not on him.

Cassian grabs a set of weights and makes his way over to the bench beside her, trying to look inconspicuous as he starts doing chest presses.

“Do you mind?” Cassian mutters.

“It’s not my fault your friend is so attractive,” Nesta remarks dryly.

Cassian doesn’t deem the comment with a response, keeps his expression cool and unbothered. But if he takes off his shirt to finish his workout? It’s just hot in the gym. And if he pushes himself extra hard, doing the exercises that he knows really flex and pull on his muscles? Well, no one has to know.

~ * * * ~

Cassian isn’t sure if Azriel said something, Mor said something, or they both said something, but he tries to push it all out of his mind as he pulls into the driveway at Rhys and Feyre’s house for a declared ‘family dinner.’ He takes a deep breath and turns to where Nesta is sitting in the passenger’s seat of his truck.

“Alright. I don’t need my family thinking I’m crazy, so if we both just play it cool, we should be fine.”

“I’m not the one you need to worry about, and you know it,” Nesta reminds him, throwing open the door and hopping out.

Cassian barely reigns in a sigh as he opens his own door. Mostly because he knows she’s right. But he puts all his focus and willpower into it, and he doesn’t look at Nesta as he greets his friends and family and settles at the table. He loads his plate up and eats, and he doesn’t look at Nesta. He listens as everyone around him talks about their weeks and what’s new, and he doesn’t look at Nesta.

“Cass, are you alright?” Rhy’s voice interrupts Cassian’s thoughts, and his head snaps in Rhys’ direction.

“What? Why would you ask that?” Cassian tosses back, trying to keep his voice light and teasing.

“You’ve been quiet,” Rhys points out. “And we all know you’re never quiet.”

“He’s probably too busy thinking about his new lady,” Mor pipes up.

“New lady?” Rhys asks.

“Oh, yeah, apparently it’s a ‘demon named Nesta,’” Azriel adds, throwing up air quotes.

Cassian is about to tell his family off with a well placed retort, when the loud clatter of silverware hitting a plate echoes through the dining room. All four sets of eyes snap to Feyre who has suddenly gone very still. Her face is pale and her eyes seem to have glazed over, like she’s seen a ghost. The look has Cassian’e eyes darting around the room, but Nesta is nowhere to be found.

“That isn’t funny,” Feyre says, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rhys reaches over, comfortingly squeezing Feyre’s hand in his own. “Nesta was the name of Feyre’s sister.”

“You have another sister?” Mor asks quietly.

“Had,” Feyre explains softly, her hand tightening on Rhys’. “She died a few years back. She was dating this… guy. Tomas. We could never prove it, but I know he was at fault. I know he did it. The one bright spot was some freak accident that happened to him.”

The silence that follows is heavy. It presses against Cassian’s chest and threatens to shatter his ribs until he can’t take it. He stands, the legs of his chair scraping against the hardwood, as he excuses himself. He wanders through the hall until he sees a door slightly ajar, light bleeding into the hallways in a single soft white beam. Feyre’s art studio. He pushes the door open slowly, finding Nesta standing at the easel, staring at the painting perched there.

“She painted me,” Nesta says, her voice hushed and awed. “I know all sisters fight, but sometimes it felt like we were on another level. I didn’t think she’d ever paint me.”

“That deal you made,” Cassian starts, keeping his voice equally quiet. “It was for revenge, wasn’t it?”

Nesta turns then, her dark eyes settling on Cassian. With her spine straight and face set in a cold, hard line, it reminds Cassian of the demon she is. The one he first met standing in his apartment. Power rumbling off her in waves, tendrils of darkness and fire licking at Cassian’s skin until goosebumps break out in their wake. It leaves him breathless.

“Yes.”

#my fic #acotar #nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian #answered

145 notes · View notes

romantichopelessly · 3 years

Text

Talking to the Moon

This fic is somehow my favorite thing that I’ve ever written. It started out as a Halloween fic, and then I wanted it to be my longest one shot and aimed for 8k. Now it is so much longer and so much more and I really really hope that you guys like it.

Words: 15,400+

AO3

Summary: Logan is a man of routine. Routines are sensible. It's perfectly sensible that his routine revolves around his roommate. Virgil. Even though his roommate doesn't know that he's a vampire. Even though his roommate doesn't know that he is in love with him. (Or: Virgil and Logan are vampires. And neither of them know about the other. And they were roommates.)

Pairings: Analogical, Background Roceit and Intruality

Warnings: Blood, blood drinking mentions, kidnapping, non-graphic violence

----

Bright fall leaves littered the cracked sidewalk as Logan made his way home from work. The satisfying crunch of them underneath his loafers was something that he would never admit to enjoying as much as he did. Past the buildings lining the city street, a soft orange hue was beginning to light up the dark sky, encapsulating what most would see as the perfect morning.

Logan glanced down at his watch. 6:53 A.M. He picked up his pace. The stop at the early morning coffee shop had been on an ill-advised whim, and though the warmth that the cup of earl gray tea radiated into the chilled skin of his palm was welcome, Logan did not want to end up regretting the indulgence by arriving at his apartment after sunrise.

An early morning breeze stirred Logan’s scarf and nipped at his nose with a bite that would cause most to shudder and hunch back into their coat. Logan, however, maintained perfect posture, completely unaffected by the temperature as he rounded the corner of the block with purpose, the door to the apartment complex that he lived in now in sight.

Long fingers fished in his pocket for a moment before hooking through his keyring. The black fuzzy keychain that his roommate had gifted him weeks ago brushed against his palm as he climbed the concrete steps and pushed open the door with force, anticipating the way that it stuck, just as it had every morning for the past year and a half.

Logan stepped inside, an unvocalized sigh of relief smothered in his chest. Behind him, the door fell shut, locking out the cold breeze and rising sun.

Logan picked his way across the lobby, keys still in hand. He paused for a moment at the mailboxes, glancing over boxes 221A and 221B. Nothing new. He hummed softly to himself and continued up to his apartment.

His keys turned with a satisfying click in the lock and Logan finally let himself breathe, a habit of relief more than a need.

A deep inhale. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.

Was that tomato soup that he smelled?

Thirst burned at the back of Logan’s throat. He swallowed it down as he toed off his shoes and deposited his keys in the bowl by the front door, the jingle alerting anyone listening to his whereabouts.

“L?”

Which, of course, was exactly what Logan wanted. A completely artificial warmth bloomed in Logan’s chest.

“Virgil.” Logan called back, an inexplicable smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Padding down the hallway, Logan rounded the corner to the community room to see his roommate curled up on the far corner of the couch--a position that Logan had found Virgil in more times than he could possibly count.

Though he supposed that he would have had to count them had he been asked.

“Hey.” Virgil’s voice was as gruff as it always was. His legs were curled beneath him, cushioning his laptop on his lap, and his hands were curled around a mug of something deep red. Likely the soup that Logan had smelled when he entered. It reminded Logan of the cup of tea that he was still holding. He turned and headed for the connected kitchen for his add-ins before he could drink it. “How was work?” Virgil called after him.

“Satisfactory.” Logan replied, depositing the paper cup containing his earl gray on the counter before opening the fridge. “There were not many visitors at the planetarium tonight. Just the couples.” Logan wrapped his fingers around the jam jar that he was searching for. He pulled the top off of the to-go cup with one hand and rooted around in a drawer for a spoon with the other. He shoveled two or three (most definitely three) spoonfuls of the red gelled substance into his tea and stirred it quickly before closing the cup and jar both, putting the jar back in their shared refrigerator and finally turning to fully face his roommate.

“That’s good.” Virgil watched him with pensive eyes, eyes that made Logan’s mind do funny things, like imagine that Virgil’s look was a bit more fond than it really was. Logan crossed the room again and sat on the middle cushion of the couch, taking a slow sip of his tea. Virgil immediately stretched out his legs and nestled them underneath Logan’s thighs.

“What about you? How was your day?” Logan asked, politely.

Virgil shrugged with a single shoulder. “Same old, same old. Do a bit of work, read a ton of emails, get bored and listen to music and stare at the ceiling on the company dime.”

“You are self employed, Virgil.” Logan felt the need to point out.

Virgil shrugged again, this time with a coy smile on his face. “What can I say? I’m a tough boss. Sometimes you just have to stick it to the man. And by the man, I mean me. And by you, I also mean me.”

Logan watched, emotions that he could not name despite all of his years welling in his chest as Virgil leaned forward and took a long sip from his mug of soup. To suppress the sudden insatiable urge to say something stupid like ‘you look like a dream, sitting on this musty old couch with tomato soup on your upper lip’, Logan took a long sip of his own drink, hiding his wry smile at Virgil’s antics.

Despite the emotions rolling and bubbling within Logan, the silence that followed was not uncomfortable. Rather, the quiet felt full in a way. Virgil’s feet wiggled underneath Logan’s thigh, searching for a warmth that Logan wished he could provide more of. Virgil let out a quiet sigh as he leaned back against the corner of the couch that he was nestled into. Logan let the coppery twinged tea in his throat warm him for a moment, as the stresses of the day rolled off of his shoulders and evaporated, as they were wont to do when Virgil was around.

“Want to watch some Cosmos?”

Logan perked up, a slight smile on his lips. Not so wide that he would show his fangs, which had, of course, descended due to his thirst, but a small quirk of the lips that never could be pulled back in Virgil’s presence. “I’d love nothing more.”

----

P&J’s Coffee Shop was never truly busy. It was a nice coffee shop, to be sure. Virgil’s favorite, in fact. Where else in the world could he get a perfectly brewed O negative espresso?

Of course, the secret menu being absolutely sublime had nothing to do with the reception of the café, as most of the daytime customers would be appalled by the contents of the midnight drinks. Which was quite a shame for the general public, but the lack of popularity was quite the plus in Virgil’s book, especially on nights like this, when he came to the café specifically to whine to his two best friends.

“Patton isn’t going to let me give you another espresso if you finish that one too soon. I’m already on their list for allowing you four shots in the first place.” Janus was leaning against the back counter, decidedly not restocking the refrigerator like Patton had asked him to.

Virgil grumbled in response, taking another long swig of his drink out of spite.

Janus rolled his two-toned eyes. “You’re a piece of work, Noir.”

On the very rare occasions that Virgil left his apartment, P&J’s was usually his destination. The small, soft gothic inspired coffee shop fit his aesthetic perfectly. P&J’s was one of the few creature-of-the-night-friendly spots in the city that wasn’t completely overrun. This lesser-known energy was exactly what kept it from being a target of hunters as well, which was quite the blessing, even though there were less and less incidences of slayings being reported as time went on.

And while Virgil was glad to be living in such a progressive time, he still was not about to put a target on his back by heading out to the more popular vampire and werewolf bars, clubs, restaurants and coffee shops around town.

“Shut up, Janus. I’m your best customer and you know it.” Virgil paused, thinking. A sly grin formed on his face. “Except for that fae you’re always talking about, of course. But I know that you’re biased towards him.”

Were Janus a vampire, Virgil was positive that he would have hissed at that moment. As it was, Virgil could tell that Janus was just suppressing a growl. “Untrue. Shut up and drink your coffee, I no longer wish to speak with you.” Janus sniffed, turning his nose up at Virgil’s words. Despite the dramatics of the gesture, Janus somehow managed to look poised. He always did.

In Virgil’s--albeit limited--experience, it was very difficult for a werewolf to look so poised all of the time. However, Janus constantly defied those expectations. Even the three long scars that crossed the otherwise blemishless medium brown skin on the left side of his face and his left, caramel colored eye didn’t stop Janus from looking aloof at all times. Even on days like this, working in the café, with his long, dark and curly hair twisted into a loose knot at the base of his neck and a pastel yellow work apron on, Janus could make anything look as sophisticated as if he were about to attend a grand ball, and honestly, Virgil was a bit jealous.

Logan would probably be into Virgil if he took his appearance more seriously.

Janus was watching Virgil with a knowing look now, and the vampire scowled back.

“You know, Virgil.” Virgil hissed, pulling his cup closer to his chest defensively. He knew that tone. “I wouldn’t really be throwing around accusations like that. Glass houses, and all.”

Virgil’s shoulders rose up to his ears. An onlooker would say that he looked remarkably similar to an angry black cat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh you don’t? Must be hard being so old-”

“I’m 38.”

“Let me jog your memory.”

“Physically I’m only 24.”

“Cobwebs in your head aside,” Janus plowed on, “Logan Doyle? Your current roommate who you’ve been obnoxiously pining for for the past few months? The one that you come into my café to bemoan about at least once a week? You know, the studious, oblivious, wonderful, handsome-”

“Okay! I get it!” Virgil snapped, interrupting Janus’s infuriatingly accurate imitation of his voice. “All things unholy, why do I never come in when Pat is on the clock?”

Janus shrugged, a shit eating grin on his face that almost made Virgil want to take his drink and leave. Almost. “It likely has something to do with the fact that you only come out here during Doyle’s working hours. Suspiciously sentimental, wanting to spend every moment you can with your roommate, don’t you think?”

Virgil bristled. “Stop saying stuff like that, Janus.” He knew that the barista was joking. Hell, Janus had teased Virgil about this exact subject far too many times. He really should not be so touchy about it. It was very likely that the only reason that Janus’s ribbing was rubbing him the wrong way today was the events of the night--dawn?--previous.

Logan had looked so… fetching coming home that particular early morning. The soft wool of his sweater vest looked almost irresistibly touchable. The contented look on his face as he took slow sips from his tea. The way the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly as he fought away laughter at Virgil’s not-actually-that-funny quips while they watched Cosmos.

“Ugh, are you reminiscing? Didn’t you see him less than an hour ago?” Virgil curled in on himself, glaring up at Janus’s feigned disgusted look. “Keep that out of my coffee shop.”

Virgil was about to retort when a light, melodic voice piped up from the front door. “Your coffee shop? Well darn! You should have told me that you were taking over, Jan! I wouldn’t have come in.”

Virgil turned on his stool to look at Patton, who was smiling widely, unabashedly showing their fangs for all the world to see. Behind him, Virgil could hear Janus’s amused snort.

Patton Darling was an older vampire than Virgil was, though by all other standards they were still rather young at 49. They looked younger than Virgil, and although their physical appearances only differed by three years, Virgil couldn’t help but feel like he paled in comparison to Patton. Patton had that ethereal beauty about them that all vampires were supposed to have, but on them it looked effortless and… simply put, right. Their smooth, deep brown skin and sapphire blue eyes glowed in an inhuman sort of way that could enchant any mortal, and most immortals that Patton happened to meet. This week, their hair was a pastel purple. The previous week it had been a sunflower yellow. It was like Patton wanted to call attention to themself, something that Virgil and most other vampires avoided.

Between them and Janus, Virgil wasn’t sure who was more mysteriously stunning. Had Logan been in the room, the sheer amount of beauty in the café probably would have knocked him unconscious.

“Hey, Pat.” Virgil couldn’t help but smile back at the older vampire.

“Hi, Virgil! How are you today?” Patton pat Virgil’s shoulder genially as they slipped past him to get behind the counter with Janus.

“He’s pining again.” Janus answered before Virgil could. “Also he snuck four shots of espresso when I wasn’t looking.”

Virgil glared at Janus with a renewed vigor as Patton gasped. “Virgil! You know that that isn’t good for you!” Janus nodded from behind Patton, a smug grin on his face.

“I don’t really digest it.” Virgil pointed out. He certainly was not pouting under Patton’s stern gaze.

“Hmph.” Patton looked dissatisfied with that answer, but they didn’t push it, thankfully. “Well, what did Logan do this time?”

Then again, maybe Virgil would rather they continued to chew him out for his coffee choices.

“He just-” Virgil sighed. If he had a beating heart or blood running through his veins, Virgil just knew that he would have been blushing by now. “You know.” He gestured helplessly.

“Existed in your presence?” Janus quipped.

“Exactly!”

Patton hummed sympathetically. Virgil knew that they could relate to hopeless crushes. For all the time that Virgil had known them, they had been in love with some man or another. “I’m sorry, kiddo.”

Virgil grumbled. “I look older than you.”

Patton paid no attention, but dropped the pet name. “You should really just tell him. Be honest about your feelings! What’s the worst that could happen?”

Janus and Virgil glanced at one another before leveling Patton with their best ‘are-you-actually-serious’ look.

“So many things.” Virgil could almost name them by heart by now. He had run them over in his mind so many times. “For one, he doesn’t even know that I’m a vampire. I’d have to drop that bombshell on him, and you know that he’d just be scared off. At least now I have him as a friend.”

Suddenly, Janus had turned his dubious stare away from Patton, and Virgil had both of his friends staring at him with matching looks of… amusement? Surprise? Sympathy? Virgil couldn’t tell, but he very much felt like Janus was not on his side in this conversation any longer.

“Are you kidding?” Janus’s voice held a note of high pitched incredulity that only confused Virgil further. Janus turned to Patton, unhidden laughter in his tone now. “Is he kidding? Does he not know-”

From the way that the werewolf winced, Virgil got the distinct impression that Patton had just stomped on his foot. Bewildered, Virgil turned to Patton. “Know what? Pat, what is he talking about?”

Janus looked like he was about to break into a laughing fit. “You-”

“Shh!” Patton nudged Janus, sending him a very severe pointed look. They turned back to Virgil, who felt extremely lost. “It’s nothing, V. He’s just being stupid.”

“Hey!”

“What Janus means to say is that you can’t be sure how he’ll react. You really should tell him, Virgil.” Their eyes were kind, but Virgil could not shake the distinct feeling that he was being made fun of.

Knowing that he would definitely not be following that advice, and that Janus was about two seconds away from laughing in his face for some reason, Virgil pushed away from the coffee bar and stood up, clutching his O negative espresso.

“Yeah, alright. Look, I’ve got to be going.” He gestured lamely over his shoulder.

“Oh! Okay, Virgil. Well, good night!” Patton waved as Virgil backed away from the bar towards the door. Janus looked like he was in a lot of pain. Probably because Patton was standing on his foot. “Sucks to see you go!”

Virgil turned and dashed out of the store. As the door to the café swung shut behind him, he could hear Janus break into a deafening cackle.

Weird.

----

The view of the night sky from the planetarium never ceased to amaze Logan.

Despite the fact that he had worked at the planetarium as a lecturer for approximately two years now, the sight from the observation deck would always be a sight to behold. Logan had spent many, many years under the same stars, and he had never once beheld anything as beautiful as them.

Well, perhaps there were one or two things that rivaled starshine from the heavens.

Like his roommate’s crooked smile. Or his alluring violet eyes, and how they lit up with a fond twinkle that Logan used to think could never be aimed at him. Virgil’s laugh also rivaled the constellations that Logan knew by heart--the way it dipped and fell, how it was low and gravely sometimes, stirring something deep in Logan’s stomach.

Even now, Logan was staring up at the sky--his one true love for over a century and a half--Logan found himself wishing that he were at home, sitting with Virgil on the couch, watching a sitcom.

Logan was startled out of his musings by the clearing of a throat.

Blinking, Logan tore his eyes away from the open sky. A man--a customer--stood before Logan. The first thing that Logan noticed were the sunglasses that the man was wearing. They were perched on top of his curly black hair, almost unnoticeable in the dark of the planetarium. Why on earth would anyone be wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night? Judging by the rest of the man’s outfit, a black leather jacket, a nondescript gray t-shirt and ripped jeans, Logan presumed that it was simply part of this man’s aesthetic.

Virgil would probably have approved. Or called him a try-hard. It was hard to predict Virgil’s opinions.

“Yes, sir?” Logan finally got around to responding, his polite customer service voice on.

The man smiled charmingly. It was quite unlike Virgil’s unsure smile, which often left Logan feeling as though he were the only one in the world who got to see it. This man looked like he handed out smiles to any and everyone.

There was something… familiar about him. It nagged on the back of Logan’s mind.

“I was wondering when the next lecture was.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of a question. Again, Logan explained it away. Many customers were entitled and downright rude to him. This certainly was not out of the norm, or even noteworthy.

Logan glanced at his watch, as if he didn’t know the planetarium’s schedule by heart. It was nearly 5:30 A.M. “I’m sorry, sir.” Logan answered as he looked back up. The man was a bit closer than he had been before. Logan took a step back. “We are actually about to close for a couple of hours before morning tours of the museum can begin.”

That was another odd thing. Not many customers stayed around the planetarium as morning was arriving. Logan usually had the last hour or so of his shift free of customers on weekdays.

“Bummer.” The man did not sound too put out by this information. “I was really looking forward to hearing your lecture, Mr. Doyle.”

Logan felt distinctly uncomfortable now. He knew, logically, that the man could know his name for any number of reasons. It was all over the pamphlets set out around the room. It was on the badge stuck to Logan’s turtleneck. However, the way that the man said it…

“It is Doctor, but thank you.” Logan said, stiffly. “If you return another night, I’m sure that you can make it to a show.” Logan very much did not want this man to return another night.

“Do you work any day shifts?”

Logan hadn’t seen the man move, but he was closer once again. Logan took another step back, hoping that his distancing himself was not too obvious. “Sadly, no. I am here most nights, however. There are schedules on our free pamphlets.” He wished that there were not schedules on their free pamphlets.

The man was just opening his mouth to speak again when the doors to the planetarium burst open, and a young man in a pale pink sweater tumbled through.

“Came in early, Doc! Couldn’t get much sleep last night, so I thought I’d come in a few hours early and let you go! I can do the cleaning before my shift starts, and you can get home to- Oh. Hello.”

Logan held back a sigh of relief. It helped greatly that he did not need to breathe. “Hello, Dr. Picani. I was just telling this customer-”

“Nate. Nate Miller.” The man, Nate, had looked very disgruntled to be interrupted, Logan had not failed to notice. Now, however, he was smiling charmingly once again as he crossed the couple of steps between Logan and the door to shake Dr. Emile Picani’s hand.

“Nice to meet ’cha!” Emile exclaimed, sending a slightly confused look over Nate’s shoulder to Logan. Logan shook his head. No. He did not know this man. Emile, the saint that he was, stepped in gracefully, making up for his clumsiness at the door before. “Well, I can answer any questions that you have now! My friend, Logan, here is going to be going home early. You can stick around while I clean up before we close for a bit.”

Nate looked very much disgruntled with this turn of events, but Logan did not give him a chance to respond, grabbing his messenger bag as quickly as a human possibly could.

Nodding his thanks to Emile, Logan tried to maintain a neutral stature and pace as he left the planetarium, scanning out at the buzzer by the door and grabbing his keys.

He felt eyes on him all the way out.

----

When Virgil got back from P&J’s it was only 4 A.M.

Which meant that he had about three hours before Logan got back from work.

Was it odd for one to measure time by their roommate’s whereabouts? Virgil wasn’t quite sure. To be fair, he had never had a roommate that he was so attached to. Logan was… special.

Virgil shook that thought away. Logan wasn’t even home yet, and all Virgil could seem to think about was him. It was Janus and Patton’s fault. What they had said was sitting in the back of his mind and making him think all kinds of crazy things.

Like that he should possibly… maybe consider telling Logan his feelings.

Virgil bit the inside of his cheek harshly, shoving that thought as far away as he possibly could. No. Not an option. Logan was just a human who was unluckily living with a vampire. Virgil could never ruin his life like that.

Determined to distract himself, Virgil placed his phone face up on the kitchen counter and turned on some music.

Usually, around the apartment, Virgil would only listen to his music with his headphones on. Music was a very personal thing. Not to mention that blasting music that other people may not like was too much of a risk for is anxiety ridden self.

However, tonight--that morning?--Virgil needed to blast the traitorous thoughts out of his mind, and he didn’t feel like dealing with the headache that would surely come with wearing headphones on full blast. So, Virgil queued up his favorite distraction playlist of early 2000s punk songs and played it for all the empty kitchen to hear.

For the next hour or so, Virgil bobbed his head along to bands that reminded him of when he was still alive and worked on his computer. Being a web developer and consultant had its perks, the greatest among them being the lack of strict hours and the absence of human interaction.

Just after half past five, Virgil was bored. Not that his job was particularly thrilling most nights, but what Janus had said earlier was still bothering him.

What had the werewolf been insinuating? He had acted like he knew something that Virgil didn’t. And Patton hadn’t exactly proved Virgil’s suspicions wrong. In fact, they had seemed just as amused by whatever secret Janus was keeping from Virgil.

It was infuriating. His two best friends, and he couldn’t for the undead life of him figure out their angle.

Why did they want Virgil to out himself as a vampire to Logan? If it were just Patton, Virgil would simply assume that they wanted him to be happy, but Janus… Janus knew a bit more about what could happen if their secrets were outed. And yet he had still acted like Virgil keeping his blood drinking habits a secret from Logan was some sort of joke.

Virgil groaned, burying his head in his hands and pushing his computer aside.

Looked like he was going to get that headache whether he liked it or not.

Just as he was lamenting his choices in friends, the song changed and Virgil reached for his phone without thinking. With only a few taps on the screen, Virgil closed out of his current playlist and pulled up one that he had clocked many an hour listening to in the early hours of dawn, shut up in his room, curled up on his bed and hugging a pillow.

It was simply titled “Logan” with a blue heart emoji.

He never had been very creative.

Before he could think about the ramifications of his decision, Virgil had pressed the shuffle button and set his phone back down.

“Now that she’s back in the atmosphere

With drops of Jupiter in her hair

She acts like summer and walks like rain

Reminds me that there’s a time to change”

Virgil closed his eyes and let the music wash over him. It was silly. It was really, really, really silly, and Virgil knew for a fact that if Janus were here to see what Virgil was doing, Virgil would probably die for the second time.

That knowledge didn’t stop him from getting up and sliding slowly around his own dark kitchen in his socks, though.

For a good couple of songs, Virgil danced alone in the kitchen. Not really danced, just sort of swayed in place and slid around, but that didn’t matter. All the while, he thought of Logan. His roommate who wore hideously outdated, probably thrifted, sweater vests like they were the height of fashion. His roommate who watched bad documentaries with him and ate terribly sugary jelly right from the jar in the fridge. His roommate who still used that ugly black fluffy keychain that Virgil had given him as a joke weeks ago.

Maybe he should tell Logan. About his feelings or about his nature, he wasn’t quite sure. He hadn’t decided when a pair of smooth, comfortably chilled hands slipped into his and a soft voice spoke.

“Can’t say I’ve ever come home to this before.”

Virgil’s eyes flew open. He had been so deep in his own mind that he hadn’t even heard the door unlock. For the tiniest of moments, he tensed, all too aware of the type of music that was currently pouring from his phone, but he quickly relaxed.

Logan tended to have that effect on him.

Maybe he should have been more wary of that. He wasn’t.

“You’re home early.” He responded, trying to hide his burning embarrassment. It was quickly overshadowed by the sudden, all too visceral knowledge that Logan had placed one of his hands on Virgil’s waist and was now leading the two of them in a real dance.

In the middle of their dark kitchen, illuminated only by the light of the refrigerator clock and the glow from Virgil’s abandoned laptop, while the jazzy notes of Fly Me to the Moon played in the background.

He could die again happy.

Logan was nodding. “Yes. My coworker, Emile, showed up early and let me take the hour off. Something about being unable to sleep. I probably should have been more worried for him.”

Virgil couldn’t stop his lips from quirking up in a small smile. He didn’t even try to. “Lucky me. And- I mean, lucky you, of course. An hour off. That must be nice.”

Logan hummed. “It’s turning out to be, yes.”

The two of them turned slowly as the song faded out. Logan didn’t let go, so Virgil didn’t either. Feeling uncharacteristically brave, or perhaps just a bit too comfortable, Virgil leaned forward and rested his head on Logan’s shoulder.

His turtleneck was soft against Virgil’s cheek.

“I know you're somewhere out there

Somewhere far away

I want you back, I want you back

My neighbors think I'm crazy

But they don't understand

You're all I have, you're all I have

At night, when the stars light up my room

I sit by myself

Talking to the moon

Trying to get to you

In hopes you're on the other side, talking to me too

Or am I a fool, who sits alone, talking to the moon?”

They were silent as the music played. They swayed slowly. Logan led them in circles effortlessly. Distantly, Virgil wondered whether Logan had some professional training on his front. At one point, during the chorus of their second song, Logan pushed Virgil back slightly. Just as he was about to apologize for taking liberties and invading Logan’s space, though, Logan lifted their joined hands.

Virgil spun underneath, an incredulous laugh floating easily from his chest.

His fangs flashed in the laptop’s glow just as he was facing away from his roommate.

Logan caught Virgil back in his arms easily, pulling him back to their original position and rubbing his thumb along Virgil’s waist in a way that gave him goosebumps.

It dawned on Virgil as the sun dawned on the city streets.

He was desperately, irrevocably in love with Logan Doyle.

----

“I’m in love with him.”

Remus choked on his thai food, noodles still half out of his mouth. “What the fuck?”

“I am in love with him.” Logan repeated. “What did you think that I said?”

Remus spat out his noodles in a frankly disgusting display that Logan was sadly used to. “No! I heard you, I’m just flabbergasted!”

“Nice word.” Logan commented.

“You’re in- I can’t even say it! You sound like Roman! I knew that you had the hots for Virgey, but in love-” Remus fake retched.

Logan bristled, but before he could make a sarcastic remark about how much less disgusting his feelings were than Remus’s… everything, Roman stepped out from the back room.

“You know that I can hear you, right?”

Roman rounded the counter, his knee length skirt swaying against his legs. Roman and Remus were starkly different. Where Roman wore flowy, soft and stylish clothing, Remus was all hard lines and punk outfits. However, both had plenty of tattoos. Roman’s right arm was nearly covered with brightly colored tattoos that looked like a watercolor project. Remus had a similar, monochrome sleeve on his left arm.

Roman and Remus were co-owners of the tattoo parlor known as King’s Inks, named for their own last names. Logan never came in for an actual tattoo, they weren’t really his style, but the brothers were always welcoming to him. It wasn’t hard, even when living in a big city, for the creatures unknown to most humans to find one another. People like Logan… and people like Roman they stuck together. No matter if they both enjoyed tattoos or not.

Roman King and Remus King looked like normal, human twins to most. Other than Roman’s slightly pointed ears, of course. If someone was not in the know about fae or changelings, then they may just assume that it was just a part of Roman’s unique style.

“I don’t care! Lolo’s lost his mind!”

Logan scoffed. “I assure you, my mind is very much intact and in my head, thank you. Do not insert me into your arguments with your sibling.”

“Please, Rem.” Roman rolled his eyes, completely ignoring Logan, as if the conversation were not completely about him and his emotions. “Stop acting like you’re so disgusted by displays of emotion, already.”

“Acting? Bold of you to assume that I can act. You’re the acting one. Your entire existence is based on acting like me.”

Roman huffed, dramatically. “As if you weren’t waxing poetic about Patton last Thursday! Logan remembers! Don’t you, Logan?”

“I was under the impression that we were talking about me this week.”

Roman waved his hand dismissively. “He means he remembers. So cut the bull, Remus.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but did not defend himself. His mouth was full of thai food again anyway.

Roman glared at his brother for just a second longer before returning his attention to Logan. Instantly, his expression was brighter, almost giddy. “In love?! Finally you got around to admitting it! What happened? Did something happen? Was it cute?”

“We danced.” Logan answered, simply. He had long surpassed any feelings of embarrassment around the King twins.

Roman squealed. Quite literally, squealed. Logan winced and leaned away. Remus fake retched again.

“You’re not going to just say that and not tell us everything, are you?” Roman hopped up to sit on the counter across from where Logan and Remus were sitting at the small table in the waiting room.

And so Logan did. Not because Roman King was particularly good at convincing, but because, not so secretly, Logan really had just come to the tattoo shop to tell his friends everything. That was what these weekly meetings were for, after all. It wasn’t official, or anything, but it had become expected for Logan to turn up at the tattoo parlor every Thursday to chat with Roman and Remus about all manners of things.

Most particularly, their individual romantic endeavors.

As Logan recounted the events of the previous night, Roman looked more and more excited. Usually, Logan would be frightened by such a level of sheer giddy enjoyment on the fae’s face, but today Logan could feel nothing less than happy. Content.

He still didn’t really know where his own courage had come from the night before. What exactly had possessed him upon entering their apartment to find Virgil swaying alone in the kitchen to music? Why had he suddenly acquired the romantic prowess it took to lead his roommate in an impromptu dance around the linoleum floor? Was it simply love?

Did it really matter?

Apparently not, according to the twins. Even Remus looked begrudgingly moved at the end of Logan’s tale.

“So when are you going to tell him?” The human twin asked.

“What do you mean?” Logan asked, confused. He had only just discovered these feelings, why on earth did Remus believe that he should instantly confess them? Honestly, Logan was much more comfortable enjoying this discovery in private, thank you very much.

“You should tell him!” Roman nearly shouted. “Don’t tell me that you’re just… not going to.”

“That was the plan, yes.”

“Wh- Men.” Roman exclaimed, falling back dramatically to lay across the bar that he was still sitting on.

Logan huffed. “This has nothing to do with my gender, Roman.” He wasn’t really offended by the comment, of course, he was just deflecting. Roman himself was genderfluid and was quite liberal with his comments about men, whether he was using he/him pronouns at the moment or not. “I just do not plan on telling Virgil about this right now. I see no reason to.”

“The reason is that you can be happy, Logan.”

Logan blinked, turning to face Remus. The moustached twin looked shockingly somber. Serious. It was like spotting a unicorn, seeing Remus like this. “I-”

“Logan, just listen and don’t talk for once.” Logan desperately wanted to point out that coming from Remus, such a statement was frankly laughable, but he bit his tongue. “You’ve been alive for nearly two centuries.” Logan barely held back a wince at the reminder of his age. Remus continued, completely carelessly. “And how many times have you really, and I mean really let yourself fall in love and stick with it?”

Logan could feel a lump of shame forming in his throat. He swallowed around it.

Roman picked up this time. His voice was much more soothing than his brother’s, but no less stern. “You’re always working, Logan. You’re always going, and we get it. You’ve been stuck at twenty-six years old for over a hundred and fifty years. You keep moving because the world keeps moving around you.” There was something sad in Roman’s golden-green eyes for a split second, but it was quickly masked. “You have to take a chance every once in a while. You should tell Virgil about your feelings. You know that you would be saying the same thing were it either of us.”

Remus continued. “Listen to your besties for once, Logan. You’ve been coming in here and going on and on about Virgil for weeks. Months. I don’t even know, it’s been so long. But the point is that you need to tell him. It’s been long enough, even Roman is tired of it. Not to mention, I’d bet my ass he feels the same.”

There was a moment of silence. Those were few and far between in King’s Inks.

Remus broke it after a few seconds, as though continuing his thought from earlier. “And you desperately need to get laid.”

Logan wrinkled his nose, distastefully. “Honestly, Remus, can you resist being vile for longer than ten minutes?”

Remus grinned, proudly digging back into his thai food. “Nope! It’s what I’m here for.” There was a momentary pause. “No, literally. It’s why the fair folk brought me back after switching me with Ro.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “It is not. Stop talking bad about yourself, or I’m going across the street and telling Patton.”

Logan may have been mistaken, or too caught up in his own issues, but for a moment there, it looked as though Remus’s cheeks were brushed with a light shade of pink.

As the brother’s began to bicker, Logan pulled back into his own thoughts. Perhaps… Should he tell Virgil? Despite the raging swarm of butterflies that attacked the pit of Logan’s stomach at the very thought, he had to admit that letting his emotions out in the open would feel a lot better than continuing living with Virgil for however much longer, pretending that he felt nothing more than friendship for him. It was already agony just in his mind’s eye.

There were so many possible downsides, though. Logically, Logan knew that Virgil would not become angry if Logan were to confess. It was highly unlikely that Virgil would cut off all contact with Logan or kick him out of the apartment, either. In fact, after the previous night’s display…

Logan, holding Virgil against his chest as though he were something precious--because he was, of course--the two of them twirling around their tiny kitchen, as though they were the only two people in the world. Soft music playing from Virgil’s phone, the perfect songs for them luckily playing back to back, as if hand picked. Logan had had the lyrics swirling in his mind on repeat ever since. It had been… magical. Lovely. Wonderful. Everything that Logan had never known he needed.

And it was well worth the risk of mortification that he could forget in fifty years if Logan had even the slightest of chances to hold onto Virgil like that again.

“I’m going to do it.” Logan’s voice rang out, perfectly clear, over the twins’ quickly heating argument.

Roman gasped. “Really? I didn’t think we would be able to talk you into it!”

“You didn’t. I simply decided that it was a low risk, high reward situation. Statistically, I have more to lose by not attempting to tell Virgil my… discovery than I do by telling him.”

“Cut the bull, nerd.” Remus was grinning again, in a way that would have appeared almost… menacing, were Logan not so used to Remus’s odd expressions. “We all know that you did not actually calculate the statistical risk of telling Virgil you’re in-” Remus caught up to his own words and dramatically retched again, as though the very word he was about to say was an allergen.

“In love,” Roman finished for his brother, “I can’t believe you’re going to do it! Oh- You should get some flowers for him from the shop down the street! The warlock who owns it is always so perceptive about what to get for which occasion. Oh, this will be so romantic-”

Logan cleared his throat. “You do know that if- when I tell Virgil, you will not be in attendance, correct?”

Roman waved a hand dismissively. “Details.”

Remus stood and stretched, his back cracking loudly. “Alright, well if you two are about to plan the most boring pre-fuck in the world, I’m going down to the café. You two want anything?”

The vampire and the fae both shook their hands, and Remus left the tattoo parlor, the bell above the door jingling jovially over the quick chatter from Roman as the door swung shut behind him.

----

Virgil couldn’t focus on his work.

To be fair, Virgil had never been good at focusing on his job. When he wasn’t actually consulting, Virgil was a developer. Which meant that he essentially made his own schedule. Which also meant that he had no accountability for any sort of timeline.

It became especially hard when Virgil’s mind was completely occupied by Logan Doyle.

Virgil, lately, had spent quite a bit of every day thinking about Logan. But after the night before… Virgil couldn’t stop thinking about him. Every time he closed his eyes, he was there again, in the middle of the kitchen, breathing in Logan’s vanilla scented cologne. Every time he paused between keystrokes, the notes from the music that had played that night floated through his mind.

It was unbearably distracting.

Patton had texted Virgil at about 1 A.M., asking whether he would be at the café that night. At first, Virgil had considered sending back a snarky text telling them that he would not be returning to P&J’s until Janus stopped being a little shit and avoiding telling him what his little laughing fit during his last visit had been about.

Instead, however, out of his own gracious nature, Virgil held back his sarcasm.

It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that he had spent the past 20 hours feeling as though his chest were full of bubbles, imagining Logan’s hand on his waist.

Virgil: not tonight. I’ve got work to do.

What happened? Patton texted back immediately.

Virgil cursed his friend’s intuition.

Virgil: nothing! I just don’t feel like coffee.

Pat: And you do feel like work?

Virgil: no, I feel like being at home.

There was a pause. Virgil watched as a bubble indicating that Patton was typing appeared and disappeared about three times in quick succession.

Pat: Hold on. I’m moving this to the group chat.

Virgil cursed. If Janus got wind of what was happening, Virgil would never hear the end of it. Janus could sniff out Virgil’s emotional turmoil like no one else. No pun intended.

Before he could respond and tell them to not tell Janus under any circumstances, Patton had sent a text in the trio’s group chat.

Pat: What’s going on, Virgil?

Janus: Something’s up with Virgil?

Virgil: no. I just said I wasn’t coming in today.

Janus: Why not?

Virgil: I have work to do!

Pat: We’re just worried about you, honey.

Virgil groaned, but didn’t correct the pet name. Even though he didn’t like being coddled, sometimes the affection Patton put into their words wasn’t so bad. It certainly wasn’t a decision ruled by Virgil’s current good mood.

Virgil: I just wanted to stay home today. I’m fine.

Janus: That means you’re either mid depression spiral or-

Virgil softened a bit. His friends really did get him. It wouldn’t have been the first time that Virgil had fallen into a spiral since he met the two, and Janus and Patton were sadly well acquainted with Virgil’s moods. He knew that if he really were in the middle of an episode that Patton and Janus wouldn’t hesitate to close the coffee shop for the night and come keep him company.

Pat: Are you? V?

Virgil shook his head and texted back quickly.

Virgil: I’m not. Really.

Janus: Oh fuck.

Pat: ???

Janus: Are you in bed with Logan right now?

Pat: !!!

Virgil: NO.

Janus: Are you about to be?

Pat: !!!!!!!!!!!

Virgil: no.

Janus: What happened, then?

Virgil: none of your business. I just answered Pat’s text. I do not deserve to be interrogated.

Janus: This is not an interrogation. It is a series of educated guesses and negations.

Virgil: I plead the fifth, then.

Janus: Not an interrogation. You have no rights.

Virgil: didn’t you drop out of law school?

Janus: After my girlfriend nearly killed me, actually.

Pat: Boys, let’s not fight. Are you sure you’re alright, Virgil?

Virgil: yeah, I promise.

Oddly enough, Virgil was considering expanding on what was actually going on--Patton tended to have that effect on him. They were amazingly good at pulling Virgil’s deepest thoughts from him. Something about their trust and gentle concern was surprisingly convincing. Just as he was about to respond, there was a knock at the door.

Virgil instantly tensed. It was only 1 in the morning. Even on Logan’s off nights, like Virgil knew tonight was, Logan never got home before 2 or 3.

And even when he was early or late, Logan had his own key. Of course he did. With that stupid fluffy black keychain that Virgil had clipped onto his key ring weeks ago.

Had something happened?

Virgil glanced back down at his phone and sent a quick dismissal text to his two friends.

Virgil: I’ll see you guys later. Gotta go.

Janus: Chicken.

Pat: Alright! Have a good night, Virgil!

Virgil couldn’t stop the way his lips quirked up at the texts. He was still looking down at his phone as he took his first few steps towards the apartment door. There was another, slightly less polite sounding knock on the door.

“Coming!” Virgil called, clicking his phone off and sliding it into the pocket of his hoodie.

The light from the hallway outside cast a shadow that Virgil could see in the crack underneath the door. Whoever was on the other side was standing rather close to the door. Virgil couldn’t quite shake the sense that there was something off. He tried not to focus on it too much. He was in a good mood. Whoever the hell it was knocking on his door at one in the morning was probably just at the wrong door.

Any other night, Virgil would have been more cautious.

Any other night, when Virgil was in any other mood than completely besotted, Virgil may not have answered the knock at all.

As it was, Virgil opened the apartment door with little to no hesitation.

On the other side, standing in the dimly lit hallway stood a man with a nest of curly black hair and a form-fitting leather jacket, a pair of sunglasses hanging from the neck of his plain black t-shirt. If Virgil didn’t feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up with some sort of instinctual unease, he may have thought that the man in front of him was handsome.

“Can I help you?” Anxiety seeped into Virgil’s tone. He looked the man up and down. The large boots. The perfectly straight posture. The tense shoulders. He suddenly wished very much that he had not opened the door.

The man smiled. There was something distinctly menacing about it. “Is Logan here?”

Virgil’s stomach twisted. He knew, suddenly, that he should not, under any circumstances, tell this man where Logan was. He felt his fangs poking at his lower lip, descending involuntarily. “Who are you?” His voice was gruffer than intended. The question was polite enough, but Virgil’s tone was nearly a hiss.

“I’m Nate Miller.” The man put a hand on the outside of the door. He didn’t push it open any wider than Virgil held it, but Virgil got the distinct impression that he would if Virgil made any sort of move to shut the door in his face.

“And you’re Virgil Noir, aren’t you?”

----

The warlock from the flower shop suggested that Logan go with a traditional bouquet of a dozen red roses.

Logan, however, while a traditional man of 182 years old, wanted something a bit more creative.

Roman had hovered over his shoulder for the entire exchange, offering his two cents with each choice that Logan attempted to make. His helpfulness was suffocating, but Logan didn’t let it deter him.

By the time that they were done, Logan had a beautiful, and rather pricey, bouquet picked out.

It was beautiful. It was wholly unnecessary, of course, but Logan didn’t mind getting caught up in Roman’s dramatics from time to time too much.

Virgil deserved as much.

The walk back to the apartment passed by Logan in a blur of cracked sidewalk and brisk air.

Logan had made this walk plenty of times before, but that time it felt… different. The air was full of promise, and though he was hesitant to admit it, even to himself, a sort of… hope that Logan hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

It was a breath of fresh air. Possibility.

Probability, if Logan allowed himself to make a couple of more hopeful assumptions based on that look in Virgil’s eyes the night before.

It wasn’t until he got to the door of the apartment complex that any sort of anxiety started to catch up with him. Seeing Virgil usually brought a calm over Logan. Coming back to the apartment to see his roommate was in itself like unwinding after a long day. Virgil had an uncanny ability of loosening every ward that Logan set up around himself.

But as Logan ascended the stairs--the elevator would definitely take too long right then, especially since Logan had noticed that it was descending right as he walked into the building--he took note of the fluttering sensation in the pit of his stomach.

The bats taking nest in his gut quickly fell into a pit as Logan saw the door to their apartment.

The open door to their apartment.

The bouquet fell from Logan’s hands, tumbling to the carpeted floor of the hallway.

Logan was at the door in less than a second, much faster than any human could move.

The bolt on the door was scratched, as if it had been forced open. If Logan’s heart hadn’t already stopped beating, this would have put a halt to it. He pushed the door open lightly, slowly, as though the seconds that it took to do so would stop this from happening--stop what he was seeing from being true.

Carefully, residual training from his years of being a detective when he was alive kicking in, Logan picked his way into the room so as not to disturb what was inside.

The apartment, for the most part, was exactly as he had left it. Further in, Logan could see that the living room was undisturbed.

Whatever had happened hadn’t made it past the entryway.

The entryway itself was a mess. The corkboard that Logan had hung up on the wall was crooked, the miscellaneous take-out menus and schedules were either barely hanging on by their push pins or scattered across the floor. The umbrella stand was knocked completely to the ground, as was the dish that usually held their keys. It was laying on the wood floor, shattered. Virgil’s keys underneath.

The knot in Logan’s throat that had nothing to do with thirst tightened. Finally, emotion overtook care. “Virgil?!” Logan called out into the empty apartment. His voice echoed off of the walls.

Dashing forward, past the wreckage of their entryway, Logan entered the living room. He glanced around quickly, desperately, but it was empty. “Virgil?!” He turned on his heel. So was the kitchen. Fast as he possibly could, Logan was at the door to Virgil’s bedroom, throwing it open and finding it silent and desolate. Desperate, Logan shot to the door to his own bedroom and flung it open, only to find the same thing.

Shaking, Logan was back at the kitchen in a blink. Virgil’s laptop was sitting, untouched on the counter. Just as he was about to give up, something caught the corner of Logan’s eye.

A flash of white. Instantly, Logan was back at the front door, pushing it closed.

There, pinned to the door of his and Virgil’s apartment with a silver knife was a slip of paper.

Logan felt sick. It was paper from a pad that they kept in the kitchen. Paper that he usually wrote notes for Virgil on before he left for the night.

Doyle,

I believe I have something you want. You know where to find me.

-NM

The shaking stopped. The paper nearly tore with the force that Logan was gripping it. Clutching the note in one hand, Logan reached into the side pocket of his messenger bag for his cell phone. By the time that he had dialed Remus’s number, he was already out the front door of the apartment building.

----

It was barely fifteen minutes later when they all made it to King’s Inks.

Fifteen minutes too long, in Logan’s opinion.

Roman had just barely been able to talk Logan down from taking off after Virgil.

Rationally, Logan knew that he would have done the same thing if he were in Roman’s place. If he had snatched Remus's phone from his hand and heard himself, desperate and earth shakingly angry, raving about going off alone after a hunter of unknown ability, he would have talked himself down too.

That didn’t mean that he was any less angry about it.

When Logan had reached the tattoo parlor, only one twin had been waiting for him. When Roman told Logan that Remus had gone down the street to get the owners of the local coffee shop, Logan had nearly gone off on him. Thankfully, Roman’s bullshit detector and friendship was stronger than Logan’s ferocity.

The bell above the door had jingled not too long later, and Logan had stopped his pacing to look at the new arrivals.

Remus entered the tattoo parlor followed by two rather eclectic characters that Logan could only assume were the owners of the café down the street. He barely listened through introductions, just gathering the essentials--that Patton and Janus were friends of Virgil’s and here to help.

Roman then had to pry the--for lack of any other possible description, though it made Logan sick to the stomach to think it--ransom note from Logan’s hand to pass it around to the other three.

“Who is NM?” Janus’s voice was gruff, enough so that Logan didn’t even need to register the wet dog smell to know that he was a werewolf.

“Nate Miller.” Logan hissed out. His foot tapped impatiently against the polished concrete floor of the tattoo parlor. “He approached me at my work earlier this week.”

Janus raised a single eyebrow but didn’t challenge it. If Logan were in a better state, he would have noticed the worried tilt to Janus’s mouth, or the way that his back was ramrod straight. He would have noticed that Janus was just as worried for Virgil as he was.

To Janus’s left, holding the ransom note and staring unblinkingly at it, was Patton. They were trembling, their eyes glassy. Remus was leaning over their shoulder to read the note as well. Logan barely noticed the supportive hand that the human twin had placed on the new vampire’s back.

“And there was no sign of Virgil?” Logan swallowed back the urge to snap in his reply, only because of the waver in Patton’s voice. “How long ago do you think-”

“I don’t know.” Logan clipped. “Not long before I arrived back at the apartment. It still reeked of him.” Old Spice and gunpowder. Logan could still smell the phantom of it. “I need to find him.”

Roman placed a calming hand on Logan’s shoulder. “That’s what we’re trying to do, hothead. We’re trying to get your boyfriend back, but you shouldn’t go running off after a hunter alone. Especially not one that is obviously targeting you.”

Janus nodded along. “For once, Roman is speaking sense.” Roman’s cheeks flushed a soft pink at the low-bar praise. “I thought that you were supposed to be smart?”

Logan leveled a glare at the wolf. “I’m sorry, do you know me?”

Janus shrugged. “Might as well. Virgil talks about you enough.”

“What does it mean?” Patton interrupted before Logan could respond. “‘You know where to find me.’ Do you, Logan?”

Logan nodded curtly. “The observatory. There’s nothing else that it could mean. That’s where he confronted me before.” Just thinking about it stirred up Logan’s anger again. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, tugging on it at the ends. “I just don’t understand! Why would he take Virgil if he wants me? He’s a human! He has nothing to do with this!”

The whole room froze and went suddenly, unbearably silent.

“What?” Logan snapped. He should probably feel worse about being so harsh with his friends--and, apparently, Virgil’s friends--but at the moment he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Are you kidding me? Still?” Remus’s voice was shrill. More shrill than usual, even.

All four of the others were staring directly at Logan, with varying looks of disbelief and resignation.

“Logan, honey.” Patton’s voice was unbearably fond, despite the fact that Logan had only really known them for a couple of minutes. “Virgil is a vampire too.”

Logan blinked. Then blinked again. For a moment, just a moment, he forgot all about where they were and what was going on. And suddenly, everything made sense. “Shit.”

The others watched him, concerned, for just a moment before Janus spoke again, redirecting them all back to the matter at hand. Logan, however, felt as though his head was spinning. Everything that he had known was suddenly turned on its head. He took a deep breath.

There would be time to deal with his revelation later. For now, he needed to focus. Virgil needed him. Virgil needed all of them.

Logan looked up, refocusing back on the others. They were talking quietly amongst themselves. Logan cleared his throat.

“We need to make a plan.”

----

The planetarium was silent when Logan arrived. Anyone would have assumed that it was deserted.

The planetarium was closed for the night, which is why it was Logan’s day off. Usually the planetarium and, specifically, the observatory was a place of comfort for him. Tonight, however, he wanted nothing more than to not have to be here.

Well, that was untrue. He did want one thing more, and Nate Miller knew it.

His footsteps echoed through the empty halls. Spinning diagrams of planets and moons that would normally have been mesmerizing hung from the ceiling. During the day, the planetarium was beautiful.

Logan had the path to the observatory memorized. He walked down the halls quickly but with caution, not using his vampire speed. There was no way of telling what Nate had been prepared for when he demanded that Logan meet him here. There could be any number of traps and Logan needed to keep his head on his shoulders, as Janus had not so politely warned before they had split up.

Despite his admirable restraint, Logan still moved more recklessly than he probably should have on his way there.

The door was cracked when Logan reached the observatory, propped open with a stopper. Logan didn’t hesitate before crossing the threshold and entering. It was just as quiet inside the observatory as the rest of the planetarium had been. The aisles of plush, fold theatre-style seats innocently lined the rounded walls and radiated inwards, completely empty. The ceiling was rolled back and open to the heavens. A clear night sky shown down on Logan and the empty rows of seats. It was beautiful, but Logan knew the implications of the sight.

It was nearing dawn now. The sun would be rising within the hour.

Behind him, the door slammed shut. Thankfully, Logan had just enough dignity and composure not to flinch at the sound, although he did turn to see that the door had in fact been closed behind him.

“Well, well, well.” The voice--Nate’s voice--seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The intercom system. Logan scanned the room for movement, quickly and imperceptibly. To the human eye, he would have simply appeared unmoving. Almost bored. “You actually came. Took you long enough.”

Logan’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. He had never hated anything more than he hated that voice. “I got caught up.” He responded through clenched teeth. Logan wasn’t thrilled with the concept of conversing with Nate at all, but he needed the time. “Next time you should call.”

The laugh that followed sounded like nails scraping against a chalkboard to Logan.

“Oh, but darling, you never gave me your number.”

Logan’s fingernails were digging crescent moon shaped wounds into his palm. “Enough small talk. Where is he?”

“Who?” There was laughter still in Nate’s tone. Even though Logan couldn’t see him, his stomach was boiling with rage at the audacity.

“Enough of the games!” Logan hissed, striding a few purposeful steps further into the circular room. “Where is he? Where is Virgil?”

There was a despondent sigh from above, and suddenly, Logan could hear the stage in the center of the room rising.

Logan had been on that platform many times before, giving lectures and presentations to excited audience members. He was always filled with a warm sense of anticipation and excitement before those speeches, no matter the fact that he had given them countless times before.

Now, he felt nothing but dread as he watched the stage rise up from under the floor to eye level.

The figure in the center of the stage was strapped to a chair. Logan’s heart lurched to see Virgil, slumped over and limp, but his worry was rapidly overcome by venomous fury when he saw Nate Miller, standing just behind his unconscious roommate, a wooden stake in one hand.

“The monster is alive. For now. You and I have business to attend to, Doyle. It should be coming around any moment now.”

----

Virgil’s head was pounding. The world was spinning, and he hadn’t even opened his eyes yet.

It was worse than any hangover that he had ever endured as a human. His vision was blurred as his eyes cracked open, spots of brilliant color dancing at the edges of his vision. He felt his fangs poking against his bottom lip.

Virgil twitched, raising--or at least, trying to raise--his hand to rub at his temples. His eyes shot open as he realized that he couldn’t move his hands. Chest rising and falling rapidly with breaths spurred by increasingly rising anxiety rather than an actual need to breathe, Virgil jerked against the shackles on his wrists. Matching shackles, he realized, locked his feet to the legs of the chair that he was in.

He couldn’t move at all.

“I’d stop that if I were you.” An almost bored voice spoke in Virgil’s ear. Jerking away, Virgil turned his neck to face his captor. Distantly, Virgil recognized the face.

His mind was still swimming, but he remembered it. Opening the door, half expecting Logan to be on the other side, and being met with this man. Knowing almost immediately that something was off, being forced back into his own home, barely having a chance to fight back, barely getting to call out before a sharp pain was radiating through his skull and everything was fading to black.

Virgil hissed, desperately leaning away from the man and the wooden stake that he was gripping with obvious intent.

The man’s eyes flashed, the patient facade disintegrating before Virgil’s eyes, revealing a manic sort of rage that terrified Virgil to the core.

“Virgil.”

The voice snapped Virgil out of his terror. Virgil’s eyes flew across the room, down to where Logan was standing, in the middle of an aisle--where were they?--worry and--Virgil’s heart panged with hurt--fear in his eyes.

Logan took a single step forward, but before he could move any more, the man behind Virgil was pressing the tip of the stake right against the spot where his unbeating heart was.

“Not another step, Doyle. You even try and move and this monster is dust.” The man growled the words in a way that reminded Virgil of someone barely hanging on to sanity. Virgil kept his eyes trained on Logan. The man’s voice smoothened suddenly, as though he were getting himself under thinly spread control. “We can just talk, can’t we? Just the three of us.”

Virgil sent Logan a pleading look. Logan needed to get out of there. He had to leave before this hunter--because he had to be a hunter, there was no other explanation--hurt him. Logan met the look with a determined shake of the head.

“Why don’t you introduce us all, Doyle?”

Virgil swallowed thickly, glancing back at the hunter before returning his eyes to Logan, confused. But Logan wasn’t looking at him any longer. His gaze was trained on the hunter behind him and Virgil felt as though he were missing something distinctly important.

Logan’s eyes narrowed. Virgil knew that face. Logan was biting back what he really wanted to say, and if there weren’t a stake pointed at his heart, Virgil would have wanted Logan to speak his mind and push this arrogant bastard right off of his soapbox.

Logan’s eyes flicked back to Virgil’s, and once again Virgil could see that little flicker of fear. Virgil swallowed down his own hurt.

“Virgil Noir, my roommate and… my friend.” There was something hesitant in the way Logan said it. Virgil tried desperately to focus on his anger. He had every right to be angry right now, and it had everything to do with the hunter threatening to kill him. He had no right to feel so… betrayed by Logan.

Logan, however, had every right to be scared after finding out that his roommate was a monster.

“And you are Nate Miller.” Logan continued. Virgil grimaced. Fuck Nate Miller. Virgil hated even his name. “A hunter who approached me yesterday at my place of work, and who is not targeting me. Why?”

There was a shocked, deranged sounding laugh from behind Virgil, and the hunter placed his hand on Virgil’s shoulder. Disgusted, Virgil shook it off, only to freeze when the sharpened end of the stake pressed threateningly against his chest. “Are you joking?” Nate’s voice was nearly an octave higher than it had been before. He sounded incredulous. “Don’t act like you don’t remember me, Doyle. Stupidity is unflattering for you.”

Logan’s face remained impassive. Virgil curiously looked him up and down. As someone who considered himself very good at reading Logan, Virgil could confidently say that he genuinely looked confused.

Virgil forced a laugh past his monumental anxiety. “Looks like you’re not that memorable, dude, sorry to break it to you.”

Nate grabbed a fistful of Virgil’s hair at the back of his head, tilting it back. “Shut up, bloodsucker! Don’t think I won’t put you down like the monster you are.”

Virgil gritted his teeth to hide the pain. “Do it then! By the time you turn me to dust, Logan will be gone.” Virgil looked down from where his head was still tilted at the uncomfortable angle to meet Logan’s eyes.

Logan shook his head minutely and Virgil’s brow furrowed in confusion.

Nate chuckled, breathlessly, releasing Virgil’s hair from his grasp and stepping around the chair so that Virgil could finally see him fully. Virgil’s first thought was that he was rather short, for a hunter. “Nice try. Goading me into focusing on you. I’m not an amateur. Doyle wouldn’t leave his perfect little boyfriend. That’s why he’s here, you know. For you.”

Virgil ignored the words, though they made something that wasn’t strictly fear squirm in his gut. He wasn’t going to get hope for his relationship with Logan from a hunter who was threatening to kill him. “Sounds like someone’s jealous.” He said instead, taking a vindictive sort of joy from the fury that was clearly written on Nate’s face at the statement.

“Virgil.” Logan warned, taking a single step forward.

Nate held up the stake again, menacingly. “Don’t move, Doyle.” Logan froze. “You want to pretend you don’t remember? Fine, I’ll jog your memory.” Gripping the stake tightly but lowering it, Nate took another step closer, his eyes trained solely on Logan. It made Virgil want to kick him. Luckily for the hunter, his legs were still shackled to his chair.

“We met three years ago, before you moved here. You were working at that bookshop, remember?” Virgil frowned, his eyes lobbying back and forth between Logan and Nate. He was confused. Why was a hunter so obsessed with Logan? “You were always wearing that cute little scarf. For a few weeks there, I came to the shop to see you every day.”

Logan’s eyes were widening in recognition, surprise and confusion warring on his perfectly smooth features. Virgil swallowed thickly. Logan knew this hunter.

“I remember.” Logan’s voice was low, barely there. His hands, which had been tense and balled into white fists since he first arrived at the observatory were relaxing slightly. “But- I don’t understand? If you were a hunter-”

Nate laughed, an odd mixture of pleased--likely at the fact that Logan suddenly remembered their connection--and cruel. “Please. If I had known right away what you were, I wouldn’t have wasted the time. When I found out, it was right before you moved away. I was disgusted. Wasting so much time and energy on a vampire-” Nate spat the word like a curse.

Virgil sucked in a shallow breath. A vampire? Logan? No. That couldn’t possibly be true. The hunter had to be mistaken. There was no way that Virgil would not have known that Logan was also a vampire. Except…

It did sort of make sense. Why Logan was also only ever awake at night, even on his days off. Why he was always just as cold as Virgil was. Why he kept so many jars of jam that Virgil was just realizing were definitely not full of jam. Virgil cursed himself. How had he not known-- How had he not noticed?

He remembered the other day at the café with Janus and Patton. If he got out of this alive, he was so going to kill Janus.

Then, of course, it dawned on Virgil exactly what sort of situation they were still in. If Logan was a vampire, then both of them were in danger right now. Logan had come for him, putting himself in grave danger. A hunter may spare a human, but they saw all creatures of the night as the same. Virgil’s eyes widened and he stared at Logan, trying to convey his urgency with his eyes.

Above all else, Logan had to get out of this observatory okay.

But Logan wasn’t looking at Virgil anymore.

“So you followed me?”

“I had to track you down!” The hunter cried, as if the alternative were impossible. “All you monsters are the same. I couldn’t just let you get away with tricking me-- with seducing me, masquerading as if you could possibly be normal. You’re a killer.”

Logan looked incensed. “If you’ve been watching me for so long, then you know that I haven’t killed anyone recently.”

“But you have before.” Nate spat, his eyes wild. “Don’t deny it. All of you are killers, whether you fancy yourself reformed or not. You need to pay for what you’ve done.” Nate gestured to Virgil, hatred burning in his eyes, despite the fact that he couldn’t even deign to look at him properly. “From the research I’ve done about this one, it took it three years before it managed to stop slaughtering humans. You’re all the same, no matter how much better you think that you are.”

Virgil winced. Guilt clawing at his insides. He barely remembered the three years after he was first turned. It was the darkest period in his past, and having it so gracelessly laid bare in front of Logan made him want to do nothing more than disappear. But when he managed to look back up at Logan there was something… understanding in his eyes.

And that was when Virgil knew that whatever his past, whatever this hunter said and did, Virgil would do anything in his power to get the man that he loved out of this safely.

Even if it meant putting his neck on the line by riling up a deranged hunter.

“And how many lives have you ended in the past year alone?” Virgil hissed, staring defiantly up at his captor.

Nate scoffed. “None that matter, vampire. You dare to compare the lives of you creatures to human life-”

“Say,” Virgil drawled, his voice low, “are we just here to listen to you spew your manifesto about how much more pure than us you are, or are you actually going to do something?”

“Actually, I did have something in mind.” Nate’s face was unnervingly calm again. A pit of dread settled in Virgil’s stomach. Nate nodded up at the ceiling.

The open dome of a ceiling.

Virgil looked up and couldn’t help but notice the tell-tale signs of a sunrise along the edges of the circular opening. The clear implications dawned upon him--Patton would be proud that he could manage to think a pun even in such a dire situation--quickly. His eyes slipped closed in momentary resignation.

The sun is going to rise--likely within the next few minutes--and Virgil was there, shackled to a chair just under the open ceiling. The stake in the hunter’s hand was just for show. He fully intended to burn Virgil alive, and there was nothing that Logan could possibly do about it without risking his own life.

Logan himself just seemed to be putting together the implications of Nate’s thinly-veiled threat.

And suddenly, as though a switch were flipped, Logan’s calm demeanor changed. No longer was he feigning interest in Nate’s monologue or humoring his explanations. His fists were once again balled at his sides, white with tension, and for the first time ever, Virgil could see his fangs.

All at once, Virgil knew that Logan would not be letting this go quietly. He wasn’t completely sure what tipped him off, but he knew that if it came down to it, Logan would not be leaving him to burn alone under any circumstances.

It’s a sobering realization. Logan was going to risk his own life for no reason at all--because, honestly, how would his death help anyone? Virgil was still stuck there. If Logan really was a vampire--and he obviously was--he could have been out of there and safe before Nate could even blink. Virgil could not fathom why he looked so determined to waste his life, but he already knew what he needed to do about it.

Virgil forced a laugh. It was loud in the otherwise silent observatory. “Burning me? Really? That’s the best that you could do?”

Nate looked hilariously offended by the complete lack of shaking in his boots that Virgil was doing.

Virgil continued. “No, honestly, did you sit in your sad little apartment, surrounded by cut out pictures of Logan and red string and come up with this plan? Did you rub your little hands together and laugh maniacally? Did you honestly think that using the sun as your choice of weapon was poetic or something? What are you going to tell your little hunter friends? That you tracked down your old vampire crush and just sat and watched the sun rise with him?”

Nate turned an absolutely alarming shade of red. Really, it would have been funny had it not been immediately followed by his fist colliding with Virgil’s nose.

Virgil barely had time to hold in a grunt of pain before Nate was being pulled off of him and shoved to the ground. Virgil opened his eyes to see Logan on the platform with them, his knees straddling the hunter’s chest, and his hands wrapped around his neck.

“Logan-” Virgil desperately called out, completely ignoring his throbbing nose.

Nate was resisting, thrashing against Logan’s hold, and although Logan had the upper hand with the element of surprise, Virgil could do nothing but watch as the hand that was still clutching the wooden stake rose behind Logan.

“Logan!” The scream tore it’s way out of Virgil’s throat before he could think of the consequences. Logan’s grip on Nate faltered.

Before anything life shattering could happen, the stake was kicked from Nate’s hand by a black combat boot. Virgil’s eyes snapped up to see what--who--the boot was connected to, and his eyes were met with a man dressed in quite a bit of leather that Virgil had never seen before.

His first, terrifying thought is that this was another hunter, but no, this man was very obviously not on Nate’s side.

“Not on my fucking watch.” The man growled, kicking the stake even further away now that it was out of Nate’s grasp. The man looked angry, albeit not as angry as Logan, who was still apparently attempting to choke the life out of the hunter. His wild eyes were matched by a wild nest of shaggy brown hair that had a couple of glinting silver streaks in it, and offset by what appeared to be a very carefully maintained moustache.

He was altogether the strangest looking person that Virgil had ever seen, and he hadn’t even glanced in Virgil’s direction yet.

Virgil’s eyes were pulled away from the struggle by a light touch against one of his wrists, just above the shackle.

“Patton?” Sure enough, Patton was hovering over Virgil now, their eyes kind and concerned.

“Are you okay, V?” Their voice shook a bit. “What am I saying? Of course you aren’t okay. I’m sorry, Virgil.”

“Wh- How did you-?”

Patton smiled kindly, their eyes flicking over to Logan. “Logan called us--or, well, he called Remus,” They nodded in the direction of the punk guy, “and he told Roman, who called me and Janus. We’re going to get you out of here.”

For the first time since he had been texting Janus and Patton earlier, something loosened in Virgil’s chest. Relief.

Before he could say anything to thank Patton or perhaps ask who the hell Remus and Roman were, Patton was gripping the shackle that held Virgil’s left hand in place and tearing it away as though it were nothing.

Sometimes Virgil forgot just how strong they were.

Patton quickly repeated the process with Virgil’s remaining restraints.

“Logan. Get off of him.”

Virgil craned his neck, looking over his shoulder to see what was happening. The scuffle had moved. Logan still had the upper hand, but now there were two more figures standing over him and the hunter. The first was nearly identical to the one in the combat boots, though minus the moustache and with much tidier hair. The second--

“Janus.” Virgil almost felt like smiling at the sight of his friend. Janus looked up, his two-toned eyes flashing in the light.

Right. The light. The sunlight that was quickly approaching.

“Logan.” It was the second unknown one, the one with the perfect hair, that was speaking. Virgil just noticed the pointed ears that were poking out between his curls. “You have to stop. Remus, Jan and I have this. It’s almost sunrise. You have to get out of here, Logan.”

But Logan wasn’t listening. Virgil’s chest constricted. There was something dark--something dangerous--in Logan’s eyes. Nate wasn’t fighting much anymore. Any words that Virgil might have said were stuck in his throat.

Beside him, Patton whimpered.

“Logan!” The one with the moustache snapped, reaching down and grabbing one of Logan’s biceps. “Logan, you need to get Patton and Virgil out of here.”

Something of what the human said must have registered in Logan’s mind, because his grip on Nate loosened until he was no longer strangling him. Luckily, Nate didn’t get a chance to recover, because as soon as Logan was pulling away, Janus had Nate in his grasp, his eyes flashing golden.

Virgil could breathe again. He trusted that Janus, and whoever those other two were, had this.

“Logan.” He called, breathless. His voice was still raw from screaming earlier. His nose was still gushing blood and very likely crooked, but he didn’t care in the slightest. Not when Logan looked up at him.

In an instant, Logan was across the room and pulling Virgil into his arms. And Virgil let him. He didn’t resist for even a second, willingly letting himself melt against Logan like he’s a lifeline.

And in some ways, he was.

“Are you alright?” Logan’s voice was achingly tender. So heartbreakingly tender, given what he had just been doing seconds ago. “Did he- Did he hurt you any more than-”

Virgil cut him off because that dangerous note was coming back into Logan’s tone. It shouldn’t have been as hot as it was. It shouldn’t have been hot at all. “I’m fine, L. Are you-”

“If you’re safe, I am.”

And it was terrible timing. Just feet away, his best friend and two other people who he could only assume were Logan’s friends were fighting with a hunter. Patton was still right behind him, standing just off the stage, watching. But Virgil found himself leaning just that much closer to Logan. It was as if Logan had his own gravitational pull that tugged only on Virgil. He glanced down at Logan’s lips. One was split, but otherwise they looked just the same as they had the other night, when they were safe in their apartment.

Virgil let out a shaky exhalation. When he looked back up, Logan’s eyes were trained downwards. Towards his own lips. Virgil licked his lips.

Behind him, Patton gently cleared their throat. Virgil whirled around.

“I don’t want to interrupt, kiddos, but the sun is going to rise any minute now. We need to get you home.” They didn’t speak for themselves, but Virgil knew that Patton wouldn’t be leaving without them, and he didn’t want his friend to burn alive either.

He glanced back at Logan, but Logan’s expression was shuttered once again.

“Yes, you’re correct, Patton. We need to leave now.”

Virgil glanced back at the other four one last time. They had Nate under control once again. Swallowing, Virgil turned back to Patton and Logan and nodded once. “Let’s get out of here.”

----

In the end, they did indeed make it back to their apartment before the sun rises, if just barely. Patton left them only once they were sure that Logan and Virgil were okay enough to be left alone at their apartment.

Which was perfectly fair, because they had just had a home invasion only a few hours ago.

When they were back in the apartment building and safe from the approaching dawn, the two of them began to clean the apartment in silence.

It really wasn’t that big of a mess, but both of them seemed to silently agree that they would not be able to rest until the apartment was returned to the state that it had been before. When things were safe.

Virgil’s tongue felt too big in his mouth as he helped right the entryway. Only hours ago he had been trying and failing to fend off Nate in this very spot. And, sure, things were okay now, but somehow it feels suddenly much more real than it had when they were leaving the observatory.

As for Logan… He looked tense. It was understandable. Because Virgil had gone and got himself kidnapped like some sort of damsel in distress-

His stomach curled in on itself. He couldn’t shake the anxious thought that Logan was… angry with him for it.

And it was stupid. It was so stupid, and Virgil knew it. After everything that Logan just went through to get Virgil back, there was very very little chance that Logan would blame anyone other than Nate for this turn of events. And even if he did blame someone else, Virgil knew Logan, and he knew that if anything, he was likely blaming himself.

Which was even more stupid.

Once the entryway was presentable again, Logan cleared his throat. Virgil paused, halfway through taking his hoodie off. Usually he wore it even when inside their apartment, but right now everything that he was wearing felt… dirty.

“Are you sure that you’re alright?” Logan’s voice was soft. Quieter than usual. Almost… unsure. Which was almost unheard of for Logan.

Virgil softened, pulling his jacket the rest of the way off. “I’m… I won’t lie, Logan, I’m pretty shaken but… I’ll be fine. Are you…?”

Logan dodged the question, finally looking over at Virgil with thinly masked guilt in his eyes. “Your nose stopped bleeding.”

Virgil reached up a tentative hand to his face. To be honest, he had forgotten about it. The pain had numbed, but when he prodded it gently with a finger, he could tell that it was definitely broken. Patton would have said something if it had needed to be set, though, so Virgil wasn’t too worried. “I’m sure I’m a sight right now.” He chuckled weakly. It fell flat. There was silence in the apartment for a moment. “Logan-”

“I’m sorry.” Logan exclaimed, before Virgil could continue. “This is my fault. I… If you were hurt, I would… I never would have forgiven myself.”

“Don’t say that.” Virgil tried, stepping closer to Logan.

“It’s true.” Logan insisted. “If he had hurt you, or heaven forbid-” Logan made a little choked noise. “I couldn’t have lived with myself. You did nothing wrong. You didn’t deserve-”

“And neither did you.” Virgil’s voice was firm, pushing back against all denial. “You didn’t call this upon us, Logan. I don’t care if he thought that he knew you, or if he had hurt me any more than he did. None of it was your fault, and none of it would have been your fault. He is a hunter. I’m- We’re vampires. It could have happened at any time with any hunter.”

“But it didn’t! It was him, and he was targeting me. He only hurt you because I-”

Virgil’s mouth felt very dry as Logan cut himself off. “What matters is that we’re safe. We’re okay.” He tried to reassure Logan.

Logan closed his eyes, defeat settling over his features. “You don’t understand. He only hurt you because of how much I love you.”

The words hung in the air, heavy. They certainly weren’t how Virgil had ever imagined that they would be said for the first time. Still, a soft warmth blooms in Virgil’s chest. There were nerves there too, but he found it easy to ignore them. Mostly, he felt an overwhelming sense of rightness. Two days ago it had been impossible to consider that Logan loved him back.

But now… it was like he could see that Logan had been saying it for a long time now. He had said it earlier, when he had been so obviously terrified for Virgil. He had said it the night before, when he held Virgil close and they swayed around the kitchen. He had said it even before that, when he made sure to be quiet every evening when he left for work just after sunset, when Virgil was still holding on to sleep. He said it when he picked ocean documentaries for Virgil, even though he was not-so-secretly terrified of the ocean. He had said it countless times since they had met, even though Virgil was only just now hearing it for the first time.

Virgil took the remaining few steps forward to close the distance between them. Logan looked almost pained. Before Virgil could lose his confidence in himself--in this--he reached out and placed a hand on Logan’s cheek.

When Logan met his eyes, Virgil damn near melted into the ground. Logan’s deep, chocolate brown eyes always were a weakness of his. He wanted to say something. But, then again, Virgil never really had been the one that was good with words. That was definitely more Logan’s department. Instead, Virgil just leaned forward and closed the distance between them completely.

Logan’s lips were soft, just like the rest of him was, although he was loathe to show it. He gasped softly against Virgil’s mouth, but he didn’t even try to pull away.

Logan leaned into the kiss with an insistence that made Virgil’s still heart pirouette in his chest. Virgil exhaled, and it felt as though he had been holding his breath his entire life, despite the fact that he hadn’t needed to breathe in just over fourteen years.

Kissing Logan was like finally coming home. And though it was terribly cliché, Virgil couldn’t bother to imagine another way to describe it. Virgil couldn’t imagine ever getting tired of this sensation. From his head to his toes, he felt warm.

He felt alive.

Slowly, Virgil parted his lips under Logan’s and even though Virgil had been the one to initiate the kiss, he was surprised when Logan took his lower lip between his own. Virgil didn’t bother to hold back the low noise that arose in the back of his throat, thankful once again that he couldn’t blush.

The noise seemed to be appreciated, though, because Logan made a rather audible noise of appreciation. Right before Virgil felt a sting on his lower lip.

Logan pulled back almost immediately after, a startled--no, a shell shocked--expression on his face. His fangs were descended and Virgil knew instantly that that was what he had felt. He bit back a laugh.

Logan looked breathless. He looked breathtaking.

“I love you too.” Virgil confessed, his hand still cradling Logan’s cheek. “Of course I do. I would have done exactly the same thing if it were you.”

And Logan.

Logan laughed.

And it was the tension break that they needed after the completely awful night that they had both just experienced.

It was not a loud laugh. It was not really hysterical, either, though Virgil would have understood if Logan had lost his mind just a bit after the night that they had just had. It was a laugh of disbelief, mostly, and Virgil wholeheartedly agreed.

He couldn’t hold back a smile, and as he often couldn’t when he was with Logan. He didn’t even want to try. So instead he smiled.

Logan’s eyes turned serious. “I love you.” He repeated, this time with more conviction. He brought up a hand to cradle Virgil’s face, just as Virgil was. Virgil ran the pad of his thumb across Logan’s perfect cheekbone.

“I love you too.” Virgil replied. And after everything, that was enough.

192 notes · View notes

mystical-marauder · 3 years

Text

Painting stars

Sirius enters an art shop, hoping to finally buy the supplies he'd been saving up for for months, but walking through that door brings him much more than expected

This is my first oneshot and I hope you like it and I'll post more writing like this hopefully and my writing can also be found on ao3 my username is @loveglowslikethemoon hope you enjoy :)

Today had been pretty quiet with only a couple customers and the shop was closing in 10 minutes, I was ready to go home...

Ding!

I look up from my book, ‘What kind of customer turns up this late?’ I think. I look around to the door, standing there is a tall, handsome young man, his grey eyes excitedly glancing over the shop, his black hair tied up into a bun. His fair skin is disrupted only by a small beauty mark, under his eye. The confident smile that suddenly splits his face as he turns to me, brings out two dimples that break his otherwise smooth cheeks.

"Afternoon! I'm looking for art supplies, I mean I am in an art shop" he says, chuckling. "I actually need some advice, you have a very wide selection and I'm not quite sure what to pick." he gestures vaguely at the shelves full of pencils and brushes, paint and charcoal, canvases and sketchbooks... "You see I love painting but I have no idea which brushes to use, it's embarrassing really."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, actually it's quite common, that’s what I’m here for” I reply with a smile “So you said you paint, right? What do you need, brushes, paint, canvases…?”

“I… um… I actually need everything… You see my parents, well, they kicked me out… and I left everything there… but I've finally saved up enough money to buy new supplies so here I am” he explains chuckling nervously. I look around nervously, unsure what to answer to that but I try to remain as steady and professional as possible.

“That's… terrible, I’m so sorry.” I say, smiling nervously, trying to seem comforting.

“It’s alright, it’s a good riddance I guess.” he replies cheerily “so about those supplies, what do you recommend?”

“Follow me, I’ll show you my recommendations. You’ll have to tell me a bit more about your style of painting so I can give you my best advice.” I say, leading him over to the shelves.

I quickly give him an overview of the different supplies before giving him a more detailed review of each product and advice. We slowly go through the shop and I don’t even notice the minutes fly by. As I walk to another shelf, I catch a glimpse of the clock. I should’ve closed the shop half an hour ago but I decide to leave it. I was having fun. What was the harm of staying open a little while longer? As the minutes pass, our chatter becomes less professional and more friendly. We talked and laughed together and soon enough, we’d picked out all his new art supplies.

“Well there’s everything you need!” I say, walking back to the counter. I start counting the price while chatting to him. “That’s £81.99, the easel is on the house for being such an amiable customer. Do come back if you ever need anything else, it was a pleasure to serve you.” I smile sadly, it had been more than a pleasure and I wish we didn’t have to say goodbye now.

“Thank you” he answers, giving me another of his confident smiles “I- I was wondering if umm… this might sound a bit weird but-” his piercing grey eyes quickly shift away, his normally confident appearance fading to show a childlike nervousness. “Before I left home, well, before I was forced out, I was studying anatomy, and well… I think you'd make the perfect model… Would it be alright if I painted you? If you don't mind, of course. Please don't feel forced to accept anything, but I'd love it if you do. And we could get a chance to get to know each other a little better, maybe somewhere where you don't work.” he clears his voice, as though happy to get this over with, and shifts his grey eyes back to me, his confidence returning. A new childish smile splits his face, as though it had never left it.

My eyes widen as I register what he just asked, and I quickly look away, embarrassed. ‘Perfect?’ as the word races through my mind again and again, I feel my face heat a little. Perfect? Me? No one had ever even called me pretty, let alone perfect, but now this man, who looks like a model himself, wants me to model for him and used that word to describe me. I return the smile, although mine is more nervous than childlike. He tilts his head slightly as though reading my emotions but seconds later, he lets out a small laugh which I quickly copy, trying to diffuse the awkwardness that flourished in me throughout this interaction.

“Are you sure you want me? I mean-” I cut off as I watch him nod confidently “alright I'd love to then!” I answer him, flattered, yet I can't stop the slight shake of my hands. What if I mess up? What if he ends up hating me?

“See you then” he says happily, turning away with a wink. I watch him as he walks out, finding myself to be grinning like a child, like him. I only have one thought left, ‘I don't have to say goodbye.’ I stay standing there for a few minutes with this thought before I snap back to reality. My eyes snap to the clock.

“Fuck” I whisper as I work out the time. If my boss finds out I closed the shop two hours late, I'm done for. ‘Oh well, it was worth it’ I think ‘and anyways he might not even find out.’ I start packing my bag when I suddenly realise he didn't give me a name let alone an address, how was I ever going to find him?! My eyes trail back to the door but of course he is long gone by now… I look around, panicked, as though expecting something to magically give me his address and that's when I notice the folded piece of paper on the counter. I slowly open it, my fingers trembling at the thought that it may not be what I think. I flatten out the paper and quickly read the snippet of writing. I smile inwardly, holding the small, unfolded piece of paper, relief slowly flooding through me as I trace the sentence again and again with my eyes, struggling to believe the evening's events.

19:30 tomorrow room 29 Mirror Hotel - Sirius Black

“Sirius Black” I whisper softly, smiling. “It's nice to meet you, Sirius Black”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I try to steady my hand as doubt rises in me again, one thought racing continuously through my mind ‘What if I mess up?’ I reach out and knock on the door hesitantly. I wait for a few seconds, yet it feels like an eternity, before the door is swung open.

“Found my note I see!” he exclaims, standing in the doorway with a huge grin lighting up his face. I smile back, trying to look as confident as he did.

“Here I brought you this” I reply, showing him my bag. I take out a small black book and present it to him, “it’s my favourite book, actually I was reading it when you came into the shop, I thought that maybe...” I trail off, embarrassed. I rub the back of my neck, feeling the warmth radiating from my palm. “I just thought maybe you'd find it interesting, I've read it so many times I practically know it off my heart” I laugh quietly, quickly glancing up at him “sorry I'm rambling”

Sirius looks at me, curiosity in his eyes. A small laugh escapes his lips before he turns to me and takes the book. He flips it, seemingly interested before looking back at me and taking a step back, to free the entrance. “Well why don't you come in?” he asks, before marking a pause, “I'm sorry I don't think I caught your name.”

“I'm Remus.” I respond, looking back up at him.

“Remus, that's a nice name.” he comments, his grin never leaving his face “the book seems interesting! I'll be sure to give it a try” I listen to him talk while I walk into his room, which is surprisingly organised. There isn't much, a table with an old laptop on it, two chairs, a bed, which takes up most of the space, a set of drawers, a small window and, in the corner, the art supplies he'd bought the day before. “You can sit here” he tells me, pushing one of the chairs towards me, I take it and sit down, putting my bag down next to it, unsure what to do next, I watch him walk over to the corner and pick up his art supplies.

“What do I need to do?” I ask, my hands still trembling slightly in my lap.

“Nothing, don't worry” he replies “just sit there and relax, there's nothing to be scared of” he addresses a friendly smile at me, pulling up the other chair to face me and setting up his easel in front of it. He takes out a brush and some paint, mixing them on his palette, and starts moving his hand up and down the canvas in big yet careful gestures. As the minutes pass, I start to feel more relaxed, watching his movements getting smaller and slower. “So, tell me a bit about yourself” he says, his eyes not moving from the canvas.

“Hmm oh well my life isn't very interesting. I grew up here with my parents, they're both gone now. I work in an art shop, as you know, I really like reading and I don't know what else to tell you…” I answer, thinking that my life must be too boring for him.

“That sounds interesting to me, you must know the surroundings pretty well then! Maybe you could show me around a little, I've been here for a few months but I still manage to get lost sometimes.” he tells me, chuckling.

“I'd love to, but only if you show me how to paint” I reply, nodding happily. As the minutes turn into hours and his painting progresses, we keep talking, about everything and nothing. It felt easy to talk to him, no not easy, right. Soon enough, I knew him like he'd been my friend for years. While we talk, his eyes tend to stay on the painting but sometimes they glide over to me, snapping back to the painting seconds later. In what felt like a short period of time, yet was a few hours, the painting was finished.

“Are you ready? If I'm honest, I'm a little nervous but if it's bad, blame it on the fact I couldn't paint for the past few months.” he admitted with a nervous chuckle, grabbing the canvas and hesitantly turning it towards me.

‘wow’

That's it. That's the only thought that went through my head as my eyes met themselves on the canvas. It's so beautiful and…

“Well? What do you think?” he urges nervously. I suddenly notice his hands trembling slightly and his eyes watching me intensely. He always seems so confident, yet I can see the fear in his eyes now.

“It's so… It's stunning… I'm speechless” I reply, looking him in the eyes quickly before turning back to the painting. The painting looked so realistic, my light curly brown hair and pale green eyes standing out against my pale skin, there is only one alteration. Instead of the freckles that normally sprinkle my face, are little stars. They're beautiful, shining like the stars I can now see from the window.

“Your freckles, they're beautiful, they look like the stars in the night sky. I thought I should paint them as such… They're like little beacons of hope and friendship, when I walked into that shop, I never thought I'd make a new friend, and well, thank you for giving me hope.” Sirius looks at me, his eyes sparkling with the same hope he was talking off. As I look at him, straight into his eyes, I feel a smile reach my lips, knowing my eyes have the same sparkle in them. And as our eyes dig deeper into one another, as we share a smile of happiness of who we found, the minutes slow, as though this moment was frozen in time, which I wish could be the case. Suddenly, we both break eye contact, as though embarrassed by the connection we'd both felt in that second. We both look back up to the painting, our eyes meeting again for a second, causing my face to heat a little. I slowly lift myself out of my seat, taking a step towards the painting to get a closer view of the talent etched on the canvas in front of me.

“It's- it's really stunning” I mutter, still speechless, taking yet another step forward. As I slowly edge forward, I notice something, something that had escaped me at first glance, as it usually escapes others' attention. A thin scar, tracing along the bridge of my freckled nose. Freckles which usually hide it, making it hardly noticeable, especially at first glance. A scar that had been given to me when I was only five, by an overexcited grey dog at the park. It's claw had scratched against the skin of my nose, after it had ambushed me. It had left me with a gash, one that never properly healed and could now be observed under the shape of a scar. This scar. The one he had noticed, when no one else had.

“You got my scar” I whisper in amazement. I slowly reach out to touch it, feeling like all that matters now, is this single detail. A small detail yet seeing it there had given me hope. At the last second, I pull my arm back, like an instinct, and, remembering the paint is still wet, I drop my hand to my side.

“Of course I got it, how could I miss it?” as his voice reaches my ears, I glance to my left to find him standing next to me, admiring the same spot as I was. Him. The man who, right now, felt like a dream come true. We both turn to face one another at the same second, almost as though we're in tune with one another. I find myself getting lost in his stormy grey eyes again, knowing that he was looking straight back into my emerald green ones. For a moment, there's no movement, we both stand there in silence, our eyes sparkling at each other, knowing that this is right. A shadow suddenly masks one of his eyes and I understand that a lock of his hair escaped his small bun. I watch it sway slightly before I instinctively take a step forward, closing what little distance is left between us, and reach out. I mark a pause, waiting to see if he'll reject the movement, but nothing happens. Carefully, I grab the small lock of hair and delicately brush it behind his ear.

As I hesitantly move my hand away, Sirius lets out a low throaty laugh, and I suddenly feel compelled to do something I'd never dreamed of. Instead of pulling my hand back, I instinctively slide it down to the back of his neck, cradling it carefully in my hand, and lean forward, closing the distance between us centimetre after centimetre until we collide. It was a short kiss but our movements were coordinated perfectly.

We pull away, almost reluctantly, and I watch his face quickly turn a deep crimson, knowing mine isn’t much better. I watch his eyes, like two storms lost in the middle of all this redness.

“That was… something” my eyes move down, as I utter these two words, as though expecting them to close the distance again. Our faces were still within centimetres of one another, making me struggle not to kiss them again.

“Something utterly spectacular” Sirius laughs breathlessly, intensifying my impulse to lean in again.

The room falls silent again, as I continue to watch the slight quiver on his lips. The only disturbance in the otherwise perfect silence is the sound of light rain splashing against the window and pavement along with our shallow breathing.

For a long while, we stand there, gazing quietly into each other's eyes, not uttering a single word, yet I feel complete, everything I need is right here, in front of me. This man, who has the most luscious hair, elegance and grace radiating from his unpolished appearance, a mischievous yet friendly glint in his eye, who is staring up at me with those mercury eyes.

And in that second, I feel certain that this is where I belong. That being with Sirius is right.

83 notes · View notes

simpingfortheages · 3 years

Text

//JUST 4 WEEKS//

Hiii umm sorry for taking long. I have exams😭 she again is long as fuucckkkk. I hope you enjoy. (still leave requests please)

Prompts requests: 8, 24, 25.

Ms Venable × Fem! Reader.

SMUT PACKED! (Fluff,begging,edging, oversimtimlation, jealousy, dom! Venable, sub! Fem Reader)

Reader is a kind spirit always helping and finding new ways to make friends. A light that attracted every one,even Ms Venable. However she doesn't take it lightly when someone else is trying to take what's hers.

~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~

The dynamic you and Ms Venable had was a peculiar one. In her lovely abode she was an expressive one,the kisses and hugs she would bestow on every exposure of your skin were sacred. The secrets that she would share with you in bed after the passion lovemaking was something you especially loved. She was always vunerable and soft in your presence alone. However, that Ms Venable never found her way into work,even in the workplace when it is both you and her alone.

No way did she show or return any affection to you. It was deemed " unfit and inappropriate" in her words. She was a complete 360, the soft twinkle in her eyes were always replaced with stone hard glares and there was a slight frown took the place of the delicate smile that adorned her plump lips. But you being the caring and loving person you are, you respected her rules and decisions. 1. No kissing 2. No sexual teasing of any kind 3. No joking or laughing... etc etc... basically you both acted like strangers. She didn't care what you did at work with the other employee,she made that quite clear. As long as it doesn't involve her or her reputation. She treated you just like she did any other employee at kineros robotics and that included being scolded and embarrassed infront your other co workers. You however benefited from that, because she would always end up making up for it at home. So yes it was a peculiar dynamic but it was a dynamic you shared with her.

Today was the same old, you kissed your Mina goodbye at home before you went to work in your separate vehicles. Of course she wouldn't mind you riding along side with her. It was just that others would become suspicious and Ms Venable had a stern, don't fuck with her reputation to uphold. You carried out your daily work routine, you clocked in and made your way to the kitchen to make yourself your second cup of coffee. After doing so you took your seat on the chair located near the window which gave you a clear view of the carpark, you liked to see when your Mina came to work in her Purple Honda. Yes she customized it, the links and connections this woman has is mind blowing. "HEYYY Y/N" you jumped at the sudden outburst, it was Jeff and Muff. The twiddle dee and twiddle dumbass who ran the whole Robot operation . Mentally you rolled your eyes at their way of greeting . You then swiftly angled your body to face them. "Yes boys? What do you need" this earned a sly smile to creep up upon both of their faces simultaneously. You couldn't help but scowl at their expressions " what do you need?" You repeated with annoyance and a hint of nervousness. " there is a new girl. She is a sweet little thing"Jeff started off ,all the while grabbing your mug of coffee to sip from it. You made no attempt to stop him because you were too caught up in trying to understanding what his point was. "Okay??? And you are telling me this because???" You yanked the cup of coffee back from Jeff and moved to pour your contaminated drink down the sink . So much for your second cup. "I want you to show her around,you know help her in the emails and files all the dumb shit you do." "Just this time you both will be doing the dumb shit" Mutt finished what Jeff was saying. Damn so basically a trainee. You already knew that you had no choice,these knuckle heads after all were your bosses. " sure yea why not" you mumbled as you washed up your cup and placed back on the rack. Jeff clapped his hands in delight at your response. " Great! so she is already in your office- well it is both of your office now. We kind of needed to split your office but hey I mean you have a roommate now " you closed you eyes and tried to control your temper. They were really starting to grate on your nerves at this point. You didn't even bother to say your departure,you just left the staff kitchen and made you way to your office.

The newbie Chloe wasn't all that bad. She was this preppy,talkative and very affectionate in her interactions. She was this medium height,brown haired girl who always has on perfume that smelt like strawberries . A few weeks passed and you both became quite close, you spent a lot of time helping and getting to know one another, heck you even went "nose blind" to her over bearing starwberry perfume she wore, guess the shared office wasn't so bad. " Fuck!" Chloe exclaimed, your eyes opened wide at her remark,"whoa Chloe what's with the language" you stood up from your chair and walked over to her desk to see what the issue was. "I cannot seem to get the file to open and send to the Main system. I have been like this for 3 fucking days"she cried out, Chloe was almost on the verge of tears. You being the kind person you are, you lowered yourself to her level and wiped her teary eyes. The gesture was one of friendly,it has no romantic intention behind it. " don't cry Chloe,please it's annoying" you got a laugh mixed with a tiny sniffle with that line. "Let me see what I can do" you gently pushed her chair to the side causing her to roll a few feet away. Atleast Chloe was happily giggling, you shot a smile in her direction. You then hovered over her laptop to try and figure out the problem. After a few minutes you managed to not only open the file but you send the attachment files along with it to the main site of log in. All this time Chloe was hovering over you,trying to see what you were doing all the while chewing on her nails out of nervousness.

With a few clicks and dragging the tasks that were done you did it, "annndddd done. See Chloe no need to be such a cry baby" you stated with humor. Chloe shrieked out of happiness and enveloped you in a death grip of a hug. You didn't even have time to react since she basically squeezed all of the air out of you. "Hug me back y/n, for someone who knows how to upload a file you sure are missing a few cells" you rolled your eyes and released an exaggerated exhale. You reciprocated her warm embrace, it did feel nice and comfortable. "BANG BANG BANG" the sound was heard 3 times one after the other. That was a sound you were quite familiar with...but where did you recognise it??. The hug was broken up rather quickly. A loud clearing of someone's throath from the door made you turn your head. FUCK ...the sound was Ms Venable's cane. After seeing who it was,you increased the distance even more between you and Chloe. "Don't you know that this isn't the place for such disgusting acts? Hmm Ms Chloe a simpleton such as yourself still hasn't manage to send me the email as yet. But here you are wasting time, then again what should I expect from someone who is a waste of space themselves. Get the fuck put of my sight." her words were icey and cold. At this point Chloe was furiously trying to wipe away her tears,but they fell faster than she could dry them. She meekly excused herself from the office and slithered pass Ms Venable to probably cry even more in the bathroom. You didn't dare run after Chloe or even move. Your eyes were fixacted on the white tiles of the building floor. Ms Venable said nothing, she just walked away. If it wasn't the sound of her cane clicks becoming softer and distance you wouldn't have known that she left. You knew better though, that her walking away was a sign to for you to follow her. And follow her you did.

You kept a steady pace behind her trying to keep up with her haste movements. The tension was intense, the way she gripped the head of her cane to the slight flare of her nostrils didn't go unnoticed either. You knew that she was upset??... annoyed?? What were you Ms Venable? You pondered. Your train of thought was put to a halt when you heard the thumping of her cane stop. She was currently standing infront her closed wooden office door. No one dared to disturb her when the lock on the door was turned. She was basically worshipped at this Robotic place, she was feared and she knew that. She thrived of the idea, everytime someone were to cower in her presence you'd always noticed the way her eyes darkened, the slight upward tilt of her chin and the more square her shoulders got. And right now that's exactly how she stared at you. She was the predator and you were the prey.

She eyes locked sharply onto yours, but you didn't look away. No, instead you met her gaze with the same confidence. With her left foot tapping her black strapped heels against the floor, followed by the clicking of her neatly manicured nails on the head on her cane. She exhaled exasperatedly and raised both her eyebrows in my direction. She was waiting and she was impatient , she wanted an apology. But you weren't going to give her one, you did nothing wrong. The deep growl that left her lips went striaght to your lower stomach. She angrily and roughly turned the knob of her office door to give access into the oddly cold room. Ms Venable broke eye contact with you and brushed past to enter the room. You almost chuckled out loud at how adorable she was behaving. You mentally shrugged it off and made you way into the room behind her

It all happened so fast, her slender hands were wrapped around your neck as your back was shoved against the door,causing it to be closed and locked with a loud bang. Her face was now mere inches away from yours, the smell of her perfume and heavy minty breathe invades yours sense. It was a euphoric feeling, the way she towered over you and held the firm grip on your neck. " Why are you always with that daft moron?" She seethed though her clenched teeth. "Who? Chloe?" You questioned with feigned confusion. The hold on your neck only got tigher as you said her name. " don't say her disgusting name in my office" she spat, your face broke out in a big toothed smile. The brown colour in her eyes seemed to darken at your reaction,almost as though you were mocking her. “Why are you so jealous?” your smile seemed to get bigger. Ms Venable was taken aback by your statement. She simply scoffed and rolled her eyes. You were determined to make her admit to her jealousy just for the fun of it. "Awww Mina, it's okayyy to be a little jealous. It looks sexy on you" you flashed a wink in her direction. Ms Venable released you from her grip and placed both her hands atop the head of her cane. Her back was now straighten with purpose and superiority, if you weren't romantically involved with her one would say that she was completely unbothered. However,the faltering in her ability to maintain eye contact and the hard clenching of her jaw said otherwise.

"So you are saying that if I were to go after Chloe and comfort her right now ? You wouldn't care because it is IN the workplace right?" You used he own rule against her as you proceeded to push. Ms Venable swallowed hard at your comment. "No. I wouldn't care what you do" the grip on her cane was a lot stronger now,even to the point her knuckles were turning white. "Okay then mina" you spun around and reached for the for handle. Of course you weren't going to comfort Chloe, you just wanted to see how far your Mina will go. Since Wilhelmina was never one to be in touch with her emotions, she wouldn't express it verbally.

You jokingly turned the handle and opened the door. She still didn't stop you,but there was a hint of hurt and sadness that made its way to her face and body language. The way she shoulders hunched over with the subtle upturn of her eyebrows pulled are your heartstrings. She looked so vulnerable. "Aww mina don't do that face, of course I'm not going after her" you closed the door and hurriedly made your way towards her, throwing you arms around her body. The act took her by surprise, but she didn't mind, she mentally smiled that you choose her over Chloe. Ms Venable reciprocated your embrace,one hand rested firmly of her cane whilst the other was securely wrapped around your waist. However it was in a firm grip, as though if she were to left go you'd run away to Chloe. The hug was a warm and loved one, Ms Venable felt comfortable in your hold, the boiling feeling in her blood subsided and replaced with one of calm. She leaned down and nuzzled into the crook of your neck to inhale your perfume or rather the mild scent of the soap that would sometimes linger on your skin. Ms Venable softly inhaled against your neck , the scent of strawberries filled her senses. Her eyes snapped open at the smell, the grip around your waist tightened even more. Ms Venable roughly exhaled through her nose as thought she was trying to expel the ratched smelt that invaded her nasal cavity.You didn't pull away from the hug until a low guteral growl ripped it's way from her throath. The sound went straight to your lower stomach. Ms Venable hated the fact that you reeked of Chloe's nauseating perfume. It was a indication as though you belonged to Chloe and not to her. Ms Venable didn't like that one bit.

" you smell disgusting Y/N the fowl stench on your clothes is polluting my office. Strip" you let out a nervous chuckle at her request. However, Ms Venable kept a straight fact...she was serious. It dawned on you that her words were in fact a demand and not a request. You accepted that you weren't going to win whatever argument that she had planned in her head so you began to slowly strip away your clothes. As you did so she shameless roamed her eyes over your body. You weren't shy, it wasn't the first time she has done so. In fact you liked it,you basked in the idea of her loving your body. That wasn't a lie, she always made sure to express how much she worshiped your body by leaving kisses and marks. It was very intimate of her. You were now half naked standing infront of the lady in purple. Only in your underwear .

Ms Venable took one good look of your body and lowly hmmed in approval. You preened at her reaction, your heart basically swole at her acknowledgment. Ms Venable broke her admiration on your figure and made her way to another door. A door that you never knew existed, it was a wooden door with a varnished finishing although it was pretty, it didn't quite go with the aesthetic of the room. You were never really allowed in her office since she basically ignored your existence. You walked behind her, following in her steps. "Pick up your clothes y/n ,you aren't an animal" a loud huff escaped your lips almost as though you were insulted. You assembled the articles of your garment and folded it neatly. Ms Venable was already in the other room waiting for you. You swallowed thickly trying to suppress the nervousness that arised in your throath. As you entered the room you were in awe. Ms Venable basically had a whole bedroom. A queen size bed with silk sheets,a whole closet too that was walk in. The walls were white and accompanied in the cold atmosphere was a mild yet soothing lavender scent.

*SLAM* Ms Venable shut the door. You junked and spun around to meet her list gaze. The coldness in the room made goosebumps arrise on your skin, the sharp look she gave you had you feeling like a prey being stalked. Ms Venable was the predator and you have just been corner. She was hungry...very hungry. One of her hands gently pulled away from the surface of the door as she strutted towards you in a slow much dangerous manner. Out of reflex you backed away from her. Every one step she took you took two. As you stepped back you ran out of space, the back if your legs made contact with something hard. A small sqeak of surprise made its way pass your slightly parted lips. When you turned around you saw that it was the lower part of the bed frame. At the point Ms Venable was towering over your small frame. The closeness of her proximity got you feeling flustered, "who do you belong too?" She sneered. Feeling already small and intimated "you" she tilted her chin upwards but still didn't break eye contact with you. With a neatly manicured hand, she rested it on you chest and shoved you roughly on the silk bed. The impact was rough yet gently. Ms Venable didn't move from the foot of the bed, instead she just stared at you. " you're so fucking hot when you're mad" you said as you broke the thick atmosphere. She raised an eyebrow at your bold response. She didn't waste any time walking over to the side table and receiving something. You tried to sit up to see what it was, only for Ms Venable to snap at you to remain lying down. You had no choice but to obey, you kept your eyes glued to the ceiling waiting in suspense of what Ms Venable had up her sleeve. The empty space on the bed beside you sank as it was your mina who occupied it, you turned your face only to be met with her wicked grin. Based on that expression alone you knew that you were going to pay.

"Are you going to apologise?" She focused her gaze onto me even harder. Your reply was a confident shake of the head. It seemed as thought that was the reply Ms Venable wanted. " What's the safe word?" She asked gently, her voice was soft and inviting. "Fire" you replied , you were excited for the unknown. You never know what way she was going to punish you, but each time it correlated to what she thought you did wrong. It was quite clever and not really unexpected from a woman such as herself. Ms Venable made a casual gesture for you to turn over onto your side. That's weird you thought, you thought she was going to punish you. You didn't mind cuddling with your girlfriend, instead you smiled put of glee and turned to your side, awaiting for your mina to spoon you. You snuggled in closer to your girlfriend. The soothing breathing of your Mina in your right ear was ticklish, almost as if it were sending electrical shocks to your core, she noticed the way you got fidgety but didn't say anything, instead she bite down on the shell of your ear and released low growls. At this point your eyes were screwed tightly and you were trying to control your breathing. Unknowingly you arched your back against your girlfriend. The small act of her pressed on your body and the attention you were getting was too overwhelming. You needed her and she knew it. An uncontrolled whisper left you parted lips," shhh baby i know, I'm only now starting, just close your eyes." Your heart rate was bearing so loud and fast at the moment. You listened to her and closed your eyes, you trusted your Mina. As you did so you felt her knee wedge it's away between your thighs, although it wasn't high enough for you to grind your needy core against. Your eyes snapped open in furstation. " Y/N I said to close your eyes. If you don't listen I will leave you alone" she demanded with a rough tone. You barely even made time to turn your head backwards to face her. You listened to her threat and took it seriously, you closed your eyes tighter this time and awaited for her actions. "Hmmm good girl" she mummered against your ear. You glowed under her comment.

Suddenly you felt her arm drape across your stomach, your breath hitched as she took the time to drag circles along your skin. Her hand progressively got lower and lower to where you needed it most. Your body was a map and Ms Venable had it memorized. She knew all the ways to make you whimper and beg for her. As she reached the place you needed her most, a low sound almost a hum filled the thick lust atmosphere. You desperately fought against wanting to break her rule and see what it was. The suspense of whatever she was holding quickly left you mind when a feeling of pleasure and attention was bestowed upon your covered clit. The agonising slow motion of her circling your throbbing clit, Ms Venable pressed small delicate kisses on the side of your face while slowly torturing you. " mina.. more plea-se" you whimpered, even without having to open your eyes, you knew you smirked at that request. Ms Venable cocked a button on the vibrator and increased the speed. Although ypur eyes we closed, at this point your eyes rolled back to the back of your head. The 2nd speed was a lot more stimulating, her patterns of circles on your clit was now faster. There was currently a wet patch created by Ms Venable on your underwear. As she continued her task of pleasuring you, a feeling of tightness made its way to your lowered stomach. " oh fuck mina- mina can I cum?" You didn't get a reply instead she turned the speed up a little more, your body twisted in both pain and pleasure, at this point the slick you produced was running down on her once cleaned sheets. Ms Venable loved whenever you did that, it remains her how much of a filthy slut you are, but more importantly you were hers and not Chloe's. She was famed to let you forget. She knew your body better than you as you were about to go over the edge Ms Venable pulled the vibrator away.

"MINA what the - " you stopped mid sentence to swallow and catch your breathe" what the fuck i didn't cum" you finished your complaint in annoyance and sexual frustration. You tried to close your legs to rub your thighs together for any relief but Ms Venable raised her thigh higher and pressed it against your senstive clit as a warning against doing that. A whimper and a whine emitted from you. "Oh fuck please mina more..." her thigh was still raised high and in contact with your clit . Out of reflex you started to grind on her, however she didn't stop this action. You were trying to chase your high that she she rudely denied a few seconds ago. After a minute of two of trying to cum the feeling of tightness made its way to your lower stomach once again. Your movements were sloppier, faster and more desperate this time. Ms Venable pressed her leg further up and rough weigh cause your hand of attach itself to her knee that was currently wedge between your thighs. You didn't know if to push her leg sweety or pull it closer to your needy pussy. " ah- oh fuck yes" you cried out, your high was approaching. A few more grinding and you would be over the edge. Ms Venable leaned closer into your ear, the warm breathe of her words tickled you" did you think it'd be so easy?" with those cursed words she pulled her thigh lower and away from your clit. You didn't bother to hide your frustration, you were almost on the verge of tears. "Mina please please let me cum for you, I will only cum for you" you begged but your pleas feel onto deaf ears. She hummed in feign acknowledgement as she reached from your now ruined underwear. You realised what her intentions are, so you helped her to removed your underwear but kicking it down your legs. Ms Venable was faster though , she removed and placed back her leg between your thighs before they could have even closed.

The cursed yet blessed sound of the vibrator filled your ears. You were eager yet you dreaded the fact that she was going to deny you for a 3rd time. She lowered the vibrator to your entrance to gather more slick, after doing so she began to trace figures eights and circles on your clit. Your body jumped and tried to move away from the vibrator but with Ms Venable firmly pressed against your back, that was not possible, " shh baby it's okay, shh I'm right here. " she cooed into your ear. Your bottom lip wobbled from the intense pleasure and pain overtaking your body at the moment. Your 3rd orgasm was building but you were determined to cum. "Oh fuck Mina please I am sorry you win i will- I will -oh fuck yes more !-i will. Never talk to her again. Just Please plea-se let me cum" you no longer tried to fight her down, you apologised hoping that she would let you cum. "Aww baby did you think by saying sorry I'd let you cum? you were oh so very wrong." She punctuated the sentence with her biting down on the shell of my air. Inciting further pain, but the thrill of being denied was even greater. She held the vibrator against your clit pushing it down and rubbing it as a fast paste, your climax was 1 figure eight away by she pulled it away. Almost as if she knew your body better than yours which in this case she did. Your hips were pushed up trying to regain contact with the vibrator. " No behave." she demanded as she took her hand and whacked the inner part of your thigh.

Your body was sensitive to every touch and caress. Ms Venable removed her legs from between your thighs,which caused your legs to close with a wet soft smack. The slick that you produced was now running down both your legs and was now smeared on the bed. Ms Venable loved the sight,she loved breaking you and mending you back together with love and affection. All for her to do it all over again. Your eyes fluttered open to take in the current state of the situation. Ms Venable was making her way to the end of the bed,carefully crawling her way up to you. She must have taken her pain medication because she was able to move a bit freely without wincing. She motioned for you to turn over flat on your back,as your legs trembled so did the smile on her face. "Now Y/N I am going to teach you a lesson about behaving" she took her hands and gently rested them on your knees, tracing random patterns as you tried to catch your breathe from her edging you a few seconds ago. " What's the safe word baby?" She titled her chin upwards and stared at you from under the eyes. "fire mina" you whimpered and released a breathy exhaled. She pried open your legs,the abrupt action and the sudden coldness between your legs excited you even more. Your slit was met with her velvet tongue, she slowly licked a strip of your womanhood, gathering all the slick that you produced. The moans that made it's way from her lips vibrated through you. Out of reflex you clamped your legs closed but the digging of her nails on your inner thigh forbade you from doing so. With no WHERE to ground your self you entangled your fingers into her red lush hair,messing it in the process. Ms Venable didn't care she was determined to punish you. You felt your orgasms approaching,in the process of you euphoria you decided not to ask to cum. You didn't care if she edged you again. You just needed to cum. Therefore you stayed silent on the bed while your lover ate you out. You bite your lower lip to prevent anymore high pitch moans from leaving. You were getting closer to your high,the way she slipped her tongue into your fold and took your clit into her mouth took you over the edge. You were already climaxing, a loud moan echoed into the room followed by the high arching of your back off of the bed. Ms Venable knew you were going to cum,the only reason you did was because she allowed it. After you came down from your climax, your heavy breathing was the only sound heard. You were sleepy and so you fluttered your eyes closed. In hope that Mina will do the after care routine,but Ms Venable didn't move.

She took four of her fingers and whacked your already sensitive pussy, as you let out a loud yelp your eyes were open in shock. " ah ah ah my little slut. Did i say we were done?" She pried open your legs once more. "No mina...but-" " But nothing y/n. You said that your body belongs to me Yes?" She scooted closer. "Yes Ms Venable. " she smiled at your reply. "Good because I-" she planted kiss on your clit "am-" a next kiss on your stomach "not-" she sucked on each of you erect nipples and after planted a kiss on each one. " done." She finished her sentence by kissing you full front on your lips. Your eyes automatically closed to savour the moment. As her tongue danced with yours the moans that each of you made were captured by each of your lips. It was a loving and caring kiss. After a few minutes of an intense make out she pulled away. You whimpered at the loss of her lips on your,Ms Venable silence your sounds of plea with a press of her index finger against your lips. " Now tell me y/n how long has you and Chloe been working together?" Confusion crept it's way on to your face." Uh...4 weeks why?" Your eyebrows were now furrowed. " no reason baby" she leaned down and ghosted a soft kiss upon your lips. Ms Venable dragged her finger down the length of your body and found it's way back to your pussy. Your body jerked at her actions. " this so where the fun begins" as she said that, she shoved her index finger into your tight core. Immediately your body accepted her and hugged her back. She chuckled lowly at your response. It wasn't a laugh of making fun of , no it was a laugh of her already knowing the outcome. " week 1-you couldn't even tolerate her, yet you still showed her around the office" she began to list. But you were so eager for her to start finger fucking you with her fingers that you didn't even pay much attention to her. " week 2- you both started to eat lunch together in the break room" what that being said,she added a second finger. Your walls hugged her even tighter causing Ms Venable to moan at your body's response. " week 3- you exchanged phone numbers and started talking outside of work. IN. OUR. HOME" as she said those last three words she shoved her 3rd finger into your stuffed cunt. Thrusting deeply as she did so. " ahh ah fuck Mina please-" you moaned in both pain and pleasure. You begged her but she ignored you." And week 4 - I walk into you office to find you in the arms of another woman" at this point her fourth finger and poking at your entrance. "oh mina please.. please I can't- thats too full" tears started to stream down your face. With only three fingers filling you Ms Venable still was determined to finish her punishment. " awww my baby slut, don't cry" she leaned over and licked away your tears that were streaming down your face," you're my good girl right?" She asked with worry. Of course you were her good girl,why did she need to ask?? you thought." Yes mina I am your good girl" you said worryingly. " so you will be good for me?" You nodded eagerly in reply with your bottom lip tucked away under your teeth. " Good." Ms Venable looked away from your hopeful face and turned to the sight of her fingers in your pussy. Your girlfriend gathered her saliva in her mouth and elegantly spat on her already occupied fingers. Her skilled fingers naked to coat the fourth finger, she looked at you , to which you gave her a small nod. She prodded at your entrance with her fourth finger and easily slipped it in. You were overwhelmed and filled with your girlfriend's fingers. Ever so slowly she began to move her fingers inside of You. " oh fuck Mina f-f" this caused Venable to stop her movements. " Fire?" She questioned worriedly. You groaned out of annoyance, "no mina,faster please. It feels good" with no time to waste Ms Venable quickly began to thrust her fingers in and out of your tight core. The feeling of a knot began to build in your stomach. The idea of being finger fucked by the most uptight person in the whole building made your heart blossom.

The way your walls pushed her fingers out and pulled her in of you at the same time almost sent you over the edge. Ms Venable knew you were going to finish any time soon. She curled her fingers and rubbed against your g-spot. " it's okay baby you can cum,cum for me my little one" your entire body convulsed as you released all over her hand. The feeling of pure ecstasy overcame your body. Ms Venable gently removed her fingers from your pussy, as she did so, more of your cum spilt over onto the bed. With maintained eye contact she took two of her fingers into her mouth a sucked it clean. You gave her a weak smile,you were tired and she knew it. Before you could have dozed off she brought the other two fingers for you to clean off. As you had your girlfriend's fingers in your mouth She spoke," after this i am sure everyone in the building knows we are a thing now" a small giggle left your throath. Ms Venable made motion to get off of the bed,but you grabbed her wrist telling her to stop." Stay a little bit please " you mewled at her. She rolled her eyes and smirked," only for a little bit then we have to get you cleaned up" she stated. You opened your arms for her to cuddle up beside you, and nodded your head in agreement. "Y/n promise me your won't talk to Chloe anymore" Ms Venable kissed the top of your head awaiting for you response. "Yes mina I promise,anything for you." With your head resting against her you heard the low "hmm" that rumbled in her chest. " Good. Because you're mine. I don't like to share" and with that statement the grip on your waist got firmer as you dozed off to sleep in the arms of your lover.

#ahs apocalypse #sarah paulson fanfic #sarah paulson characters #wilhemina venable x reader #Ms Venable #jealousy #lesbian #gayyyy #Ms Venable x reader #HR Bitch #punishment #AHS

68 notes · View notes

wendimydarling · 3 years

Text

Cover the Mirrors

Summary: Amber is earning a masters degree in mythology and folklore; when a handsome stranger sweeps her off her feet, she’s left wondering how, and struggles to keep up with his lifestyle.

Pairing: Vampire!August Walker x OFC (first person reader)

Word Count: 6826

Warnings: Alright, we ready to get into the menu of delights we will be reading today? Okay but seriously, if you are triggered by anything on this list, it is your responsibility to not read this work of fiction. The warnings are as follows: manipulation, subtle exhibitionism, fingering, penetrative sex, mention of oral (male receiving), biting, clawing, choking, blood, male violence, gore, non-con, rape, spitting, fear play, primal play, breeding, mention of death, torture, and potentially cannibalism, if you squint.

A/N: Okay so this story is based off of this thread where @killjoy-assbutt-1112 gave me a fic title, but I added another twist to it that I’d been brewing for months; I was excited about it but now I’m not. Whatever, I’ll give it to you anyway. Sources for my vampire lore came from here and here. Cover art was made by me; August was drawn by the amazingly talented @cheyentjj and has been used with her permission. Thank you so much to everyone who brainstormed with me, and a special thanks to @agniavateira for betaing!

“If you look at the Slavic region, vampire folklore runs rampant. One especially interesting specimen is the Pijavica. The Pijavica (translated “leech”, or “drinker”) was a rare species of vampire— traditionally male, and a powerfully strong, cold-blooded killer. The potential for conception is most commonly believed to be through the incest of the deceased with his mother during his life, though some believe that one can be created through the exceptionally malicious and evil acts of the deceased before his death.

The birth of a Pijavica is attributed to many different causes, including suffering an “unnatural” or untimely death such as suicide, excommunication, improper burial rituals, or even simple causes such as an animal jumping or bird flying over either the corpse or the empty grave, being conceived on certain days, or being born with a caul, teeth, or tail.”

I paused my typing, fingers leaving the keyboard in order to brush loose strands of hair from my face. Around me, the baristas of my favorite coffee shop were buzzing like worker bees in an old hive; they were gearing up for the lunch rush, and I realized I’d been here four hours already.

This place had long been my go-to study zone. It was small; there was just enough hustle and bustle to keep me from descending too deep into the abyss of studying and yet, it had the respect of the patrons that a library does. The owner, Fred, made sure that conversations were kept in hushed tones, courteous to those of us who needed to work in noise instead of quiet.

“If ya wanna be loud, go sit at a Starbucks!” He’d huff at those who didn’t heed his warning.

My eyes took in the familiar surroundings as I stretched. An oversized wood-burning fireplace filled the wall next to the vintage cash register; it was sandwiched between two built-in bookcases housing stories of all kinds that were meant to be read and enjoyed. The old stone clackling ran all the way up the wall, and a custom mantle made from an old oak tree that had fallen in Fred’s backyard sat delicately above the firebox. Yes, this shop was magical. It held a special place in my heart, and I’d visited so often that old Fred had deemed the table I sat at as “my table”. It was always kept reserved for me.

I reached for my coffee without looking; my brain needed more caffeine. I’d spent months on this master thesis, and yet for some reason, the notion of vampires was such a struggle. I didn’t understand the fear of those who lived back then. The origins of bloodsuckers were chaotic, the “treatments” laughable and still, people were willing to kill their own offspring over such nonsensical superstitions. Cold drops of stale roast hit my lips in a harsh reminder that I’d finished my previous dose. I sighed heavily and dropped the cup to the wooden surface of my table. Eyes closed, I laced my fingers around my neck and drew my elbows together to stretch my spine. Coffee. I need more coffee.

“Having trouble?”

A man’s baritone, smooth as whiskey interrupted my thoughts. My body jolted at his leisurely tone, and I nearly tumbled off the chair as my eyes snapped open to view the intruder. Sitting across from me was anything but a man; I was in the presence of divine artistry, two breathtaking orbs of gray-washed sky centered below auburn curls that adorned his perfectly symmetrical face. A sharp nose pointed to his strong jaw, while an amused smirk tugged at the corner of lips that I’m certain could send even a nun to her bedroom for self-maintenance. He wore a crisp, pinstripe suit, the buttons of his dress shirt undone sinfully low, revealing a smattering of additional curls.

My oversized turtleneck sweater and leggings suddenly felt subpar.

“The name’s Walker,” he mused further, gesturing a large hand toward the empty paper tumbler that was now lying on its side. “What were you drinking?”

“I--I um,” I fumbled with my words, embarrassed by my sudden inability to form a proper sentence. “I had a flat white? With two extra shots of espresso.”

The man named Walker had the cup in his hand and was out of his chair before I could blink; he was already ordering another coffee by the time I managed to process his intentions. I watched him hand the barista a bill I couldn’t see, but by the shocked expression on her face at the man’s declination of the change, it must have been a sizable amount. He sat down at the table again and stared at my chest unabashedly, making it clear he wasn’t just looking but imagining as well.

I should have been offended or felt objectified, but instead I felt drawn into his gaze.

“Having trouble?” He asked again, gesturing this time at my laptop.

“How long were you sitting there?” I blurted out, still too flummoxed to answer his question. Walker laughed and I swear, time stood still. Never in my life had I heard something so beautiful.

“Long enough.”

His reply was short and cryptic, a dismissal of my burgeoning curiosity. The barista chose that moment to bring two orders of coffee to the table, offering both of them to Walker by mistake. I took in her awestruck countenance, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that if my face matched hers I’d sink to the floor and die of shame. That notion shook me from my stupor and I was finally able to address his question.

“It’s my master thesis,” I explained, taking a sip of the scalding liquid he handed me. “I’m a History major, with an emphasis in mythology and folklore.”

I took another sip and tapped my phone, large numbers greeting me on the screen. Numbers that told me I was extremely late.

“Oh my god I have to go, I’m so sorry!” I apologized, scrambling to pack my things. In my haste I knocked my drink off the table. Resignation sunk in deep, submission to the knowledge of further humiliation at the impending spill. None came however, as Walker caught the drink in his hand before it crashed to the dark tiles.

“Thank you,” I murmured, gawking at him in bewilderment. Who was this man?

“It’s my pleasure,” he said, standing to help me collect the remainder of my books. “I’m interested in your thesis, could we perhaps discuss it over dinner? I don’t want to keep you from your next engagement.”

“I—” I stared at him, his face open and inviting. I’d been asked out before, but never this abruptly, and never by someone who looked and behaved like him. It sounded like an adventure…or a good story to tell on girls’ night at least.

“You know what, sure. Why not?”

I scribbled my number onto a napkin and slid it his way, grabbing the rest of my gear and heading toward the door. As I pushed against the hard metal, Walker’s large fingers caught my wrist, wrapping around it like ivy wraps around a lamppost. They were cool to the touch and yet somehow, my entire body immediately felt heated.

“We forgot first names,” he chuckled, “I’m August.”

I grinned sheepishly, pulling my arm from his surprisingly firm grip. The clank of the metal door handle resonated with the introduction I threw over my shoulder as I left the warmth of the shop and the handsome man behind.

“Amber.”

It took August a full week to call me. I felt like a fool; Did I leave on a poor note? Had I offended him somehow? Did he simply decide to change his fucking mind? I was kicking myself for saying yes; how could I have agreed to go on a date with a complete stranger? Now that I was no longer in his flustering presence, I began to see reason again. I knew nothing more than this man’s name, and the fact that he was more than likely rich. He could be a cold-blooded killer for all I knew, and I had every intention of telling him off.

I was in my apartment when he called. Still stuck on my thesis, I was currently unable to determine how best to explain the theory behind the sexual appeal of vampires. In my frustration, I hung upside down over the side of my bed, reading a book that discussed the many different works of literature revolving around vampirical romanticism and hoping the blood rushing to my brain would help me ascertain how to go about my explanation. The book was written by two authors who essentially argue the whole time, one of them convinced that the human fascination with vampires stems from the cannibalistic nature of bloodsucking or that it alluded to other bodily fluids such as semen, whereas the other stood firm in his belief that it held a much simpler cause; it was nothing more than the presence of oral fixation and sadism that caused the fantasy to plant its seed.

My phone vibrated but I ignored it, too engrossed in my book to be bothered with answering. I was so close… the answer was right there, it just continued to escape me. It wasn’t until my phone vibrated a second time to notify me of a voicemail that I put the pages down and picked up the electronic device.

The moment I heard August excusing his delay in calling to a work emergency, I immediately sat up and hit redial. There was something in his voice that made my heart quicken and my pulse race; it made the hair on my arms stand on end. I regretted sitting up so fast as it rang, the blood surrounding my brain draining quickly into the rest of my body. August answered on the second ring.

“Hi, Amber.”

“I—hi.”

I rolled my eyes then flinched in pain, congratulating myself sarcastically on how pathetic that response sounded with a slap of my palm to my forehead.

“Please, allow me to apologize again for waiting so long to call,” August insisted, seemingly unphased by my lack of vocabulary. “I still intend to take you to dinner, that is if you haven’t written me off completely.”

“No it’s fine, I totally get it,” I assured him. I had completely forgotten my earlier annoyance. He had explained it after all, and it could happen to anyone.

“Perfect. I’ll send a car tonight then, at seven. Wear something revealing please, I wasn’t able to see that pretty little neck of yours last time.”

My insides shook with an unexpected pang of shocked arousal at August’s request. The sexual confidence saturating his tone had me instantly reduced to nothing more than a deep desire for him to drag me to my knees by my hair. Why I wasn’t offended by the dominantly abrupt way this man spoke to me, I’ll never know. I put on the best flirty air I could manage in my stupor.

“I think I can manage that. Might have to charge you though.”

August laughed for the second time since I’d known him and I smiled, proud that I’d caused such a melodious sound to grace this earth.

“I like your spirit; you’re gonna be fun. I’ll see you tonight.”

“I—okay bye,” I managed to say before he hung up. I stared at my phone stupidly, as though I thought he was going to call again. Instead, the large clock face glared up at me like it always does, an ever present reminder that I live on a different plane of time than the rest of the world. I fell back on the bed, thinking about the man named August.

He likes my spirit? I hadn’t really shown him much, I’d been unable to do anything but stammer and trip over my words like a schoolgirl would when confronted by the cutest jock at school. What could he possibly see in me? The woman I truly was, the one I knew was underneath the bumbling idiot finally answered me. You’ve got three hours, Amber. Show him what you’re made of.

Resolve set in, and I bounced off the bed and walked toward my closet. For whatever reason, he’d chosen me, so I was going to let my confidence in that thought override all the self-doubt that was threatening to surface. I pulled my favorite dress from the hanger and set out to work. He wanted revealing? Then revealing is what he’d get, but I was going to do it my way.

The car was punctual, though I was less so. I scrambled to put diamond studs in my ears while being driven to some unknown location, my nerves making my hands shake. Once again, the notion that I could be driving to my death crept up my spine, but I brushed it off. Rich men send cars, it’s what they do. And I am an intelligent woman, I wouldn’t let myself be put in that situation.

Would I?

Touching the final stroke of Red Wine lipstick on my lips, I pulled my loose curls over my shoulder to expose my neck and put my things in my vintage black clutch, staring out the window at the ancient building that housed the most expensive club in town. I was suddenly grateful I’d chosen such a fancy dress. I fidgeted with the soft hem of the sleeve at my wrist, drawing it back and forth between my fingers while I waited for the driver to come to a stop.

I saw August there waiting, looking sharp as ever in another expensive three-piece suit, buttons undone just as low as the first time. This time however, I felt much better matched to his attire, and my confidence rose right next to my excitement. August came down the steps to open the door and I took his hand, hiking the burgundy velvet up to my thigh so that I could exit the car smoothly. The heavy fabric dropped to the ground the moment I freed it from my grasp, allowing August to study how I’d chosen to honor his request.

August drank in my covered form, taking in the way my dress hugged my curves and accentuated what it needed to. His eyes darkened as they lingered on the single large triangular section of bare skin that started at my shoulders and came to a point between my breasts, and I watched his tongue dart out of his mouth softly. He looked downright hungry. August stepped closer, fingertips grazing the flesh on my collarbone before he fastened his grip onto my nape and inhaled the hair at my temple deeply, pressing his lips to my ear.

“You are simply mouthwatering,” he growled, low and possessive. His hand released my neck and slid down to the small of my back, sending a shiver down my spine. My insides quivered at his touch, fragrant drops of dew pooling rapidly in the flimsy lace that guarded my mound from potential intruders.

“You wanted to see my ‘pretty little neck’,” I teased his earlier arrogance, lifting my skirt to traverse the steps leading inside, “I thought I’d frame her for you, give her the spotlight.”

August cocked an eyebrow at me in amusement, sensing my challenge. His fingers dug into my hip a little harder than necessary as he guided me through the establishment with nothing more than a nod to the hostesses. Apparent jealousy marred the face of one, and I thought I saw a hint of worry on the other. We were gone before the emotion could register in my mind.

I was escorted to a private booth in the upstairs of the establishment. While the first floor was crowded and full of people, the second floor was empty; August had requested it for our use alone. I could hear the hum of nightlife below, the haunting, non-lyrical melody of a soft alto wafting over the balcony as we walked past, the whispered promise of an enchanting night. A few tables and chairs were strategically placed on the floor, hugged by back-to-back rounded booths on either wall. Light ethereal curtains hung on either side of them, offering privacy from the guests who would typically sit in the next box over. August led me to the corner booth nearest the balcony so that we could look upon the stage if we chose.

“Our table, milady,” he joked, leaving a wet kiss on the back of my hand. Though the charade was seemingly in jest, it could not have been farther from it. His piercing eyes never left mine and I gasped at the feel of his brazen tongue on my skin. The suggestion of what he could do with it hung thick in his gaze, lacing the air with the succulent first tendrils of decadent tension. Playing along, I took a sharp breath and curtsied. I stayed low as August stood to show him the appeal of my figure at this angle, tilting just my head to look up at him. He stood there, head held high like a king, and the smile I received at my display was downright sinful.

“What a treat you are,” he murmured, cupping my chin briefly. My breasts swelled as I stood, consenting August the claim to chivalry by way of settling me into the alcove. He swept my hair over my shoulder again, trailing a single finger down my neck in admiration before taking his own seat. My insides were nothing but a pile of kindling, and every touch he gave was a spark that threatened to ignite the dry leaves into a burning flame of need.

The courses came and went just like those moments, every phrase emphasized with physical intimacy of some kind, whether it be just a gossamer brush of his fingers on my ear or an intentional grasping of my hand. He went as far as to boldly stroke the back of his knuckle along my cleavage, making me dizzy with desire. Each touch was avaricious—like he owned me—and I had zero qualms about letting him.

We ate our fill, but August made no move to leave the comfort of our small corner. With the noise of people below dulled by the far reaches of our seclusion, it was easy to converse. I told him more about my master thesis and the Pijavica, how they could read minds and enjoyed the power of persuasion, how they were impervious to all but decapitation, and how only their offspring could kill them. He listened intently, sharing tales of his own career. It was how I discovered that he was a doctor.

“I don’t practice anymore though, I prefer to study and learn. Specifically, I’m attracted to tears.”

“Tears?” That struck me as odd; it wasn’t often you came across someone who had such a unique field of study. “Why tears?”

August swirled the whiskey in his glass and downed it abruptly. He subtly indicated to our attendant for another before continuing his explanation.

“I’ve always had a fascination for the small things, things that people don’t seem to think matter; the mind-body connection, you know? For example,” he brushed a thumb over my cheekbone, “Did you know that the cellular structure of tears looks different based on the type of tear?”

August cupped my neck with both of his hands, tilting my head this way and that, his calm features set in measured focus as he spoke.

“Basal, reflexive, emotional... they all look different.”

I closed my eyes, letting him caress my skin. August’s touch was intoxicating, addicting. Even his scent was an aphrodisiac to my senses. I couldn’t get enough of it, lured ever closer to his sturdy frame, letting him manipulate my body how he saw fit. He nuzzled my hair, his soft spoken words dripping with lust into my ear.

“In fact,” he went on, “Even among those categories they differ, dependent on the stimuli.”

I could feel his breath on my neck, his lips surrounding the pulsepoint in my veins as he spoke, my jaw his destination. A hand snuck under my skirt, skimming along my trembling skin toward the seeping treasure that awaited him at the end of his journey. I spread my legs willingly, inviting him into my deepest of secrets. August hummed as he went on, sending spirals of tingling vibrations through my chest.

“The sting of onions, the sadness of grief… the satisfaction of overwhelming pleasure.”

“August…” I breathed, but my voice was severed as August simultaneously laid claim to my mouth and my womb. Thick fingers penetrated me in the same moment as his probing tongue, and it was in that moment I knew I was lost; August Walker could pull everything from me and I wouldn’t care; I’d want it, need it. He had spent all night teasing me, testing me, manipulating me and filling me with nothing but a desire for more, leaving me empty and wanting. He had succeeded, I now craved him above all else in this world.

August lifted my skirts, hoisting me with little effort to straddle his lap and I cried out in shock. The sound of my sudden impalement on the thick steel of his manhood was camouflaged by the crowd of people below; no one heard the echo of carnal awakening that sang through the air. When had he undressed? I bit my lip as he sank deeper into my core until the salty bitterness of copper and iron stung my chin. August’s eyes fell to the red droplet, darkening until the only color left in his pale irises was the very absence of light. With a hideous growl he ravaged my mouth, tasting every inch of my bruised lips with the hunger of an animal that’s been caged for far too long.

Thrill and terror tangled themselves in my mind, weaving an intricate web of wanton desire inside of me as August took me right there in the booth. Time itself seemed to halt, the room disappeared. Were we still in the club? Was it still the dead of night? Did I still require oxygen to breathe? Or was my life source now August’s touch, the light in my very soul dependent upon his kiss?

I didn’t notice when we left, nor when we arrived at a house that overlooked the city. I didn’t notice the lock on the basement door, or the fresh garden in the yard. I didn’t notice the continual rising and setting of the sun. I didn’t notice when I grew hungry, nor when I grew tired. I didn’t notice, not anything but passion, need, and desperation.

I didn’t notice.

Sleep drained from my limbs slowly. I awoke to black silk caressing my skin, dim sunlight shining through the wall, diffused by a covering of clouds that hung in the sky. It confused me that it was coming through the entire wall, until I realized that said wall was simply one large window, and the room I found myself in was built into the rock of an obsidian cliff overlooking the city. The room was minimally decorated in dark tones that coordinated with the nature outside, save for a striking, golden painting of a woman crying on the far wall. I clearly wasn’t home, and last night’s events slowly returned to the forefront of my mind.

August.

August was, without a doubt, the most attentive lover I’d ever had. Memories of his lips, his scent, his god-like physique that was surely carved from marble entertained my thoughts, returning my mind to the pleasure I’d never experienced in my life. Chills ran up and down my skin, alighting in wonder as my hand drifted to my sex. My fingers found my petals, swollen from overuse, aching in the dull agony of satisfaction. I stroked them gently, soothing the pleasant tenderness, moaning softly as the blood rushed to swell my clit once more, my other hand slipping beneath the silk to join in the heavenly edging torment.

A sharp, sudden sting at the brush of my inner thigh caused me to cry out, my hands snatching away from their play. I sat up, peering beneath the sheets to discover a semi-circle of divots cut into my leg. Is that a… a bite mark? I pulled at the skin and felt the dried blood crack, a small pinprick of new red seeping through the scab. I lunged from the bed to stand in front of the full-length mirror in the corner and look for other signs or markings, but what I found made me gasp.

Bruises peppered my neck, chest, hips and thighs. A few other crescents were scattered amongst them, standing out against the dark patches that shaded my skin. I took a physical inventory then, feeling the soreness in my jaw from being stretched by his cock, the ache of my neck from having my hair pulled, the shaky feeling of muscular fatigue in my legs from being tensed by orgasm after orgasm. I thought I detected a slight sheen on my skin, but I couldn’t tell if that was from the tremulous bliss of a satisfying fuck, or if it was the sweat and oil caused by said satisfying fuck. Either way, I looked happy and content. I grabbed August’s dress shirt from the floor and threw it on as I left the room to explore.

The bedroom led to a hallway, the wall to my left still nothing but expansive glass that showed off the impressive view. On the other side were large, black and white abstract prints, hung evenly spaced against dark panels. To the left of each was a shadow box with an ornate glass vial inside; each bottle was thin, no longer than my palm and differing in design from the others. Tiny, intricate patterns were painted on the outsides in white, blue, and gold, and gold stoppers sealed each one. When I entered the main room, I discovered a curio cabinet that housed at least a hundred of them, and I leaned in to look at how varied each one was.

“Victorian tear catchers,” August’s voice was suddenly behind me and I whirled sharply, startled. He chuckled at my alarm and I laughed with him, enjoying that glorious sound.

“They’re beautiful,” I murmured, turning back to look at the delicate glass. August pulled me against his naked chest, nosing my hair and kissing my neck.

“Yes you are,” he whispered, earning an eye roll from me. August chuckled and opened the cabinet.

“Would you like one?”

“Really?”

I looked at him, stunned. He simply nodded his head in the direction of the vials and I examined them, selecting one that had a white pattern on it that looked like lace.

“Mmm, a good choice. Perhaps I can collect tears of ecstasy for you,” August whispered. The thrill of what he was implying awakened my senses, and I let him lead us slowly back toward the bedroom. I felt like teasing him, so I delayed a bit by asking about the art on the wall.

“What are those?” I pointed to the first print, a cross-hatching pattern that looked like it was made of sewing pins.

“Those are tears of grief,” he stated, stopping in front of each as he walked me gradually down the hall.

“A yawn,” he said of the next, a white background with dark, fern-looking splatters. August traced his mouth along my jaw, his hand dipping beneath the button of his shirt to play with the sensitive nipples he had rediscovered. I keened as he continued shifting us toward the kitchen, struggling to keep my composure. The next print was a much darker gray, and it looked like it was covered in snowflakes.

“Any guesses?” August asked, mouthing my earlobe in tandem with the flick of his thumbs over my hardened nubs. I whimpered, my knees weak in his lustful embrace.

“Uhm… cold air?” I rasped as he sucked on my neck. August chuckled through his nose, the vibrations of his voice rippling through my chest to connect with his teasing fingers.

“Onions.”

“Yeah okay.”

I tilted my head so that I could kiss him, but suddenly the thought of onions turned my stomach. I lurched, pulling away and gagging slightly. Instead of concern, August smiled knowingly, seemingly unbothered by my retching.

“I see morning sickness has set in. It’s a little early and I had hoped you’d be able to avoid it, but alas, that’s not the case.”

My head swam suddenly, confusion mutilating all thought. I backed away from him.

“Morning what? What are you talking about?”

August took a step toward me, placing a hand on my belly and lacing his fingers in the hair at my nape.

“Women always taste better after they’ve conceived. And I can keep them longer; they make much more blood when they’re host to a fetus.”

I pushed against him, turning away and vainly attempting to process his words. Pregnant? Taste better? Blood? My eyes focused on a card I hadn’t noticed earlier in the shadow box, a single word printed on it.

Bridgette

“Isn’t it ironic,” August mused, tracing my collarbone with a thick finger, “That five weeks ago, you had a chance encounter with the very thing you’ve been studying for months, and now you carry his child.”

The room spun. I couldn’t think; my brain refused to process the nonsense he spoke.

“Five—five weeks?! No that’s not possible, our date was last night!”

“It’s more than possible, sweet morsel. Think about it.”

Bile rose thick and acrid in my throat then, threatening to spill. Memories and time started filtering into my mind, replacing the fog with everything I’d lost. The last puzzle piece clicked into place, confusion all but disappeared and I was left with nothing but the cold, terrifying truth. Pijavica. Vampire. Monster.

I’d fallen into the clutches of a monster.

I did the only thing I could think of; I slapped him as hard as I could and took off through the house, ignoring the sharp pain of a chunk of hair remaining in his hand. My heart pounded in my chest, desperate to be free of this sudden nightmare. I slammed into the front door and grabbed the handle, a strangled sob catching in my throat when it wouldn’t open.

I rattled the door knob, panic consuming every fiber of my being. Suddenly, it wasn’t just my life I was fighting for; apparently there was a life inside of me that needed protecting. The child of a Pijavica that was depending on me to escape, so that he could come back and kill his father. I have to get out. I gave up on the door in anger, spinning around and looking for another way.

“Do you know why I chose you?”

I heard August’s voice again, but he was nowhere to be seen. His voice came louder, penetrating my mind. I have to keep moving.

“It was because of your name; they match your eyes.”

I whimpered at his words, sneaking my head around a corner to survey the living space for some form of an exit.

“Amber has a historical application, you see,” he went on, louder. I dashed over the floor, desperate to be gone from him. Door after door remained locked, and my terror grew with each attempt. Every now and then I could hear August, whether it be a rustle of fabric or the knock of his foot on the wooden floor. The scholar in me knew that it was on purpose, that he was luring his prey, giving chase to his food, and yet my rational mind refused to take charge. I was being led by my flight response, and his jarring monologue wasn’t helping.

“Throughout history, whenever a goddess cried it was typically tears of amber, save for the goddess Freya, who cried gold. You met her in the bedroom.”

His laughter echoed through the dark walls of his lair, and chilled me to my core. It was no longer a beautiful sound, but grating and horrible. I was nothing but a petty human to play with, some toy that he could eat when he tired of me. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I came to the last door. Dear God, please let this one open. To my utter relief, the door swung wide and I was met with stairs. Stairs went down, and we were on a cliff. Down was good. Down meant freedom.

I clambered down the steps and flung open the door at the bottom, stumbling into the room and falling to the floor in horror and fear. There in front of me, was nothing but mirrors. A maze of mirrors, each one showing me my trembling features, mocking me, letting me know just how fucked I was. I turned back, intending to go back up the stairs and try another way, but August’s silhouette stood at the top, preventing me from going back into the house. I heard a scream and realized it was my own.

Scrambling off the floor, I took off into the maze, blinded by my tears.

“Each of those girls made it this far you know,” August taunted. I heard the slam of the door and nearly choked as I ran. “You’ll die in this room, just like they did.”

His nonchalance, his continual unconcern about chasing me, his arrogance that he would no doubt catch me made me so angry. I raced from path to path, growing ever more frantic every time I reached a dead end. I didn’t even know if this room had an exit, I just knew I had to keep moving. I tripped over something as I rounded a corner, screaming when I saw what it was.

“I see you found Bridgette,” August chuckled, and I looked up from the skeleton to see his hideous face marred with a sinful sneer. I gasped and took off again, turning this way and that. Hitting another dead end, I doubled back and ran smack into August’s broad torso. He caught me and held me close as I screamed, ripping his shirt from my body. He spun me around, pinning my wrists between my back and his belly, trailing his fingers languidly over my naked frame in an inspection of his handiwork. My jaw was gripped in an iron vice and August forced my gaze to the mirror.

“Do you see what I see?” he mocked. I could only stare in horror, for nothing but my own terrified expression stared back at me.

August had no reflection.

“Out of all the patterns in the world, do you know which tears are my favorite?” August continued to torment. He inhaled my hair deeply, snaking his tongue along the length of my cheek, tasting the stains my tears had left in their wake.

“Fear.”

I heard August growl as I fought against him, his iron grasp caging me against his cool skin, more of the cursed moisture pooling in my eyes. Glassy drops fell, retracing a new path toward my chin but August just kissed them away, shoving me to the floor when my knees buckled of their own accord. He let go of my hands to fidget with his slacks, pulling me back toward him every time I tried to crawl away as a parent would to a petulant child. On the third attempt he snapped my knee, a scream tearing from my throat in my woeful submission to his desire.

Finally free of his clothes, August lifted my hips, lining his rigid cock up against my sweat-soaked folds. He dove into my treasure without care, forcing his way into the depths of my belly, stretching and tearing my walls until he was fully sheathed. Strong arms wrapped around me again, and I felt two sharp points prick the junction of my neck and shoulder. I cried out and thrashed in fierce protest, knowing that small pinch was just a warning of oncoming pain.

August’s teeth punctured my skin easily, shredding muscle and sinew until they hit bone. I howled in pain as I watched blood drip from the wound, a familiar crescent shape joining its brothers on my body. Searing heat shot through my neck with his first draw of thick plasma; the violent removal of blood causing an intense burn that I felt all the way down to my injured leg. August released my neck and I clapped a hand over the fresh wound.

I looked over my shoulder at him; his head was tilted down, mouth still full of my blood; the lack of a reflection behind him unsettling to my senses. August opened his wicked maw slowly, dark scarlet trickling from his lips onto the junction where my hips met his, run through by his sword. He looked up at me with a nasty grin, bloodstained fangs curdling my stomach. I closed my eyes and turned away as he swiped a hand through the mess. His fingers penetrated my core alongside his cock, deaf to my sobbing objections.

“You’d better open your eyes, pet… This needy little cunt is dripping, I’d hate for you to miss it.”

August emphasized his sick joke by grasping my hair, shoving my head to the floor, forcing me to look once more into the polished glass. My desperate wails for mercy were all that kept me grounded as I watched him thrust, my battered hole be stretched beyond capacity. Nothing but empty space plundered my core, crimson air bruising the very place within me that only just last night had been treated with such tenderness and care. Not last night. His slick fingers found my mouth and violated it effortlessly; no amount of pressure I could apply would break through his tough skin.

“God, you look so beautiful.”

August pulled me up and took to my neck with fervor, latching onto the broken sliver of skin like a leech. The more he drank, the weaker I became, until there was no resistance left within me. I could see the color drain from my bloody face, I could see black slowly creep into my vision, but I was powerless to stop it. August was in charge, he held my entire existence in his hands, and he intended to extinguish it. I closed my eyes again, accepting my fate.

I was going to die.

One of my favorite places to visit is a small outdoor cafe, very near the coffee shop where I met Amber. Mmmm. Amber. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of that tantalizing woman.

She lasted so much longer than all the others, you know. I was able to feed off of her nearly three full months as she hung there in my basement, until the last drop of her tantalizing nectar was finally extracted. She smelled of carraway and saffron, tasted of sweet mulled wine, and with the rich, heady, piquancy of her fertile womb seasoning each sinew, every inch of her opulent flesh begged to be consumed. I must admit, I should have dispatched of her sooner, but fascination overtook my curious mind as her own was consumed by insanity.

First it was freedom she asked for, and then death. Sometimes she would beg to speak to her mother one last time. But by the end, she only asked for one thing.

“Please,” she would whisper, “Please… Cover the mirrors. Just cover the mirrors.”

She asked so nicely, but how on earth could I hide such beauty? Her tears were just as rare, you see. They hold a beauty unmatched by any of the others that hang on my walls. I’ve never seen such a fear pattern like hers; it is more exquisite than the dawn of a misty spring day in the countryside, more beautiful than a woman at the height of euphoria. And they way they sparkled against her skin, lustrous tracks that wound down her temples and through her hair, glinting in the mirrors with each slow rotation of her inverted body... well, it was as if I was living among the stars. Adding her ashes to my garden was such a shame.

I sat at that little cafe, eyes closed, viewing the world through my enhanced scent. Each drop of bitter coffee, the pollen of a nearby bee, the oil in the bike chains of two clumsy humans as they rolled past; each note and fragrance alerting me to its owner. A familiar scent reached my nose and I turned my head sharply, focusing on it.

Carraway… Saffron.

I smiled softly, opening my eyes to greet the woman that now sat at my table. The honey irises that had intrigued me all those months ago met mine and I chuckled low.

“Amber.”

Read on AO3.

#august walker #august walker fanfic #august walker fan fiction #august walker fanfiction #august walker fan fic #august walker smut #vampire!august #non-con tw

177 notes · View notes

dcbutinamrev · 3 years

Note

*bonk* i’m also sending you a few prompts for a lams shot :)

26, 28, & 34 perhaps?

Of course bestie!!!

Modern au with of course, their historical appearances. (I'll add 28 and 34 tomorrow- )

26: "I've been in love with you for an embarrassingly long time."

~~~

Nineteen year old high school student and football star and your typical Prince Charming type, whoops and hollers along with his friends who have been with him since Freshman: Richard Kidder Meade, Tench Tilghman, Robert Hanson Harrison, John Fitzgerald along with Benjamin Tallmadge bursts through the Washington Cafe in downtown Manhattan on a clear Friday afternoon.

Eighteen year old Alexander Hamilton sits on a stool behind the counter, waiting for customers to approach to take their orders. He huffs out a breath, glancing around the non-busy cafe, watching customers doing work on their laptops, taking occasional sips of their drinks or munching on their pastries, listening to distant conversation. His foster father, who also happens to be his teacher as well, George Washington would work in the back where the Manager Office is but he's currently finishing up some documentation and paper work at the school, his older foster brother Gilbert Marquis de Lafayette works in the kitchen and takes the orders to the right customers, while Hamilton sits by himself, alone, at the cashier with a violet apron around his black short-sleeved shirt and black jeans. Hamilton's striking dark red hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail, a few curls falling in front of his ears and bouncing slightly on his forehead.

"Anything?" Lafayette asks as he pokes his head through the cracked door to the kitchen.

Hamilton shakes his head, resting his cheek in his palm as he turns to gaze out the windows. "Notta."

"Hm," is all Lafayette says before he slams the door shut and continues working.

Hamilton sighs again, shaking his head before finally, out of mere boredom, pulls out his phone from his back pocket, scrolling lazily through his socials.

"Uh...excuse me?" a distinctly southern voice says, snapping Hamilton out of his distant, far off look.

Hamilton yelps with surprise, whipping his head back and forth before finally landing on, let's be honest here, his crush since Freshman--John Laurens--stands before him. Hamilton tenses when he sees the beautiful, angelic man before him. He breathes in slowly, holding his breath when his violet-indigo blue eyes lands on bright summer blue ones.

Is it hot in here or is that just me? Hamilton thinks, furrowing his brows slightly.

"Yes...?" Hamilton asks after a few moments of silence, clicking his phone off before sliding it back into his pocket and turning to face the blonde man before him. Hamilton stares at the man's hair. It's bright, rich in color and looks like silk. Smooth and flowy, almost the color of honey. Hamilton suddenly wishes to touch the boy's hair.

Laurens glances at his friends behind him, who nod encouragingly with unusually bright smiles. Laurens clears his throat, turning back towards Hamilton who now has his arms crossed over his chest and his head tipped back, an eyebrow raised challengingly and expectantly at the same time.

Laurens presses his lips together and scratches the back of his neck. "I um..." He clears his throat. "I um...can I talk with you...for a moment?"

Hamilton hesitates, glancing over his shoulder where he sees Lafayette in the small rectangular window, hissing out a curse in French. Hamilton grimaces when he hears something clatter onto the floor before turning back to Laurens.

"I don't talk to strangers," Hamilton says.

Laurens chuckles. "Cheeky. You know I'm not a stranger, Alexander. I've known you since Freshman. And we're both in the same classes together." A pause. "English--with Mr. Washington--Biology, Calculus, Theatre, Band--"

"I know, John," Hamilton giggles.

"Then why--?"

"You know how my brother is," Hamilton interrupts, leaning forward with his arms crossed over his chest. "Especially with people like you. Even if he knows who you are."

Laurens ticks his eyes at the kitchen door behind Hamilton's shoulders before turning back towards Hamilton, nodding reassuringly. "It'll be quick. I promise."

Hamilton sets his mouth and sets his jaw, giving Laurens a look.

Laurens tosses both hands up. "Just...five minutes. That's all..."

Hamilton glances over his shoulder a second--or third--time before huffing out a breath and nodding, sliding off the stool and following Laurens towards the male's bathroom nonetheless.

Hamilton furrows his brows as he follows Laurens, his brows furrowing together and tensing when he sees Laurens swings open the bathroom door. He's noticed things like this in movies. In his peripheral, he can see Laurens's friends nodding eagerly and flashing him bright smiles with thumbs up.

Laurens slams the door shut after shoving Hamilton into the bathroom. Hamilton stands just a few feet behind Laurens, watching him carefully with his arms crossed still over his chest, an eyebrow raised as he tenses at Laurens's every move.

"Relax, it's not Hollywood," Laurens says, mirroring Hamilton's position and leaning against the white sink. Hamilton simply gives him an untrusting look. Laurens sighs, defeated. "I...I wanted to talk to you. Privately. For a reason."

"And that is...what...to murder me?" Hamilton whispers, taking another step back.

Laurens shakes his head. "No! I told you, Ginger, this isn't Hollywood!"

"Then why else would you have--"

"If you would just shut up, Ginger, and listen to me then perhaps you'll find out yourself," Laurens snaps, raising an eyebrow.

Hamilton rightfully clicks his mouth shut. Laurens nods curtly once.

"Good," Laurens says. "Anyways, I brought you here so I won't make a fool of myself in front of the boys."

Hamilton just simply gapes at him confusedly and suspiciously,

"I um..." Laurens clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck. He pulls something from the back of his pocket, causing Hamilton to stiffen. Hamilton relaxes instantly when he sees the boy hand him a simple sheet of paper. "...Happy birthday, Alex..."

Hamilton's birthday was last week, Janurary 11. Hamilton eyes the paper before snatching it from Laurens's hands. He unfolds the crinkling paper and his eyes widen instantly. Laurens smiles as Hamilton holds a small box now and lifts the lid, revealing a necklace.

"It was my mother's..." Laurens says, breaking the silence between them.

Hamilton whips his head sharply at Laurens's direction, his eyes wide as his fingers fiddle with the silver chain, the small silver heart resting in his palm.

"She uh...she told me...that if..." Laurens clears his throat, taking a step closer to Hamilton. "She told me that...that if I...if I had found true love...then...this is theirs."

Hamilton's breath hitches in his throat, making Laurens's small smile grow wider as he nods with confirmation.

"Alexander...Alex...we've been friends for months, years even and...well...since you've walked onto those steps at the school... I uh...I've just been...I don't know...I just--"

Laurens's words are suddenly cut off when he feels soft lips against his. He stiffens, unsure what to do, his shoulders up to his ears and his hands hover in the air by Hamilton's elbows. He stares down at Hamilton wide-eyed, shocked by the sudden action, but melts into his embrace after a few minutes.

Laurens shifts around so both of his hands now rest on Hamilton's hips, shifting around again so he's even more taller than he was before, dipping his head down and at an angle to capture those beautiful soft, pink lips of this unique redheaded boy from the depths of the Caribbean.

Laurens grins when he hears Hamilton sigh lightly as they slowly pull apart, breathing sharply, their foreheads touch, chest nearly touching. Hamilton scoffs out a laugh, tipping his head back up to meet Laurens once more, brushing a loose strand of honey blonde hair behind his ear, resting his hand under Laurens's jaw.

"John--"

"Jack," Laurens says.

"What?" Hamilton gasps, eyebrows high and deep violet eyes dilated.

"Jack," Laurens says again. "My family calls me Jack."

Hamilton feels the corner of his lips quirk up. "Am I family?"

Laurens smiles wide, tucking a loose strand of red hair behind Hamilton's ear. "You...you are something more...than family."

A pause.

"Jack...I...I've been in love with you for an embarrassingly long time..." Hamilton confesses, a shy smile on his face.

Laurens grins, leaning down to steal a kiss.

"So have I."

*Bonus under the cut!*

A few weeks later...

"Uh...John?" Hamilton says as he sits with Laurens and the boys at a table, discussing random things like class work or homework or football or crushes or gamers. Hamilton now sits upon Laurens's lap, Laurens's arms around his waist.

"Hm?" Laurens questions, raising an eyebrow as he rests his chin on the back of Hamilton's shoulder.

"Um...how am I...how are we going to tell Gil about us...?"

"Uh...we won't," Laurens says. "Not unless you're ready, my dear boy."

Hamilton hums, giggling softly before pressing a kiss to Laurens's lips.

Hamilton doesn't know how long it's been since they've began kissing but Hamilton knows they're now almost to the point of making out against the booth, the others groaning, complaining and shielding their eyes, when he hears a sharp shriek.

Hamilton tenses and pulls off, fixing the collar of his shirt before whipping his head over his shoulder to find his brother standing behind him. Hamilton and Laurens both pale.

"JOHN FUCKING LAURENS! Get the fuck off my baby brother right now!" Lafayette barks.

"I'm dead aren't I...?" Laurens whispers into Hamilton's ear.

Hamilton nods, never taking his eyes off of Lafayette's. "You are so dead, babe."

"BABE?!" Lafayette shrieks.

"Well, I'll uh...I'll see you after school, yeah?" Laurens whispers.

Hamilton nods. "Yeah..."

"Keep the change," Laurens says, slapping a twenty into Lafayette's palm before patting his shoulder before bolting out of the door.

Lafayette turns his sharp, intimidating gaze before turning to face Hamilton, who shrinks and grimaces.

"Uh...I can explain?"

Lafayette simply stares at Hamilton, his protective instincts getting the best of him as he mumbles something incoherently under his breath in French before stomping out of the room.

Hamilton let's out a sharp breath.

He has never felt that terrified around his brother before.

Ever.

After a few minutes of silence, Meade breaks it.

"Well...that escalated quickly."

#asks #ask liz #liz writes #prompts #writing promts #historical lams #lams #lams fic #ficlet #fluff #alexander hamilton #john laurens #washington's aides #marquis de lafayette #protective lafayette is yes #bedtime now #i am so exhausted #lee!

36 notes · View notes

monstersandmaw · 4 years

Text

Male vampire x male character - Part Two (nsfw) (Halloween ‘surprise’ Patreon story).

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

I'm really pleased that you and my Patrons enjoyed the first part, and that folks were keen for more. I’ve had more interaction with this post on Patreon than many of the others, which is surprising given how mlm stories are usually much less in demand than m/f ones. Thanks for that!

Anyway, here's more of our favourite oblivious dork Alec and his obviously-not-a-vampire crush... Part Three is on the way too (tomorrow), despite this having been planned as a quick porn-without-plot one-shot, as it were. Oh well?!

Hope you enjoy.

Part One

After his initial - admittedly strange - meetings with Sebastien, Alec didn’t see him on campus at all for the rest of the week, and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. Yes, the guy had been a bit of a pompous arsehole in the library, but he’d made up for it by coming to the art room and apologising, engaging him in conversation — even if that conversation had been slightly… odd? — and being so god-damn-fucking beautiful too.

He overheard his students gossiping about ‘Dr. Dulac’ earlier that afternoon while they all carved the pumpkins he’d bought for them at the local supermarket, and it seemed that the general consensus was that Sebastien was single, unfailingly polite (even in the face of Janette Hilton, the English Department’s longest-serving and least sympathetic lecturers), hotter than any celebrity you cared to name, and a specialist in the poets of the First World War like Sassoon and Brooke, among other more esoteric interests.

After an hour of clock-watching in his tiny little office in the Art Department on Friday, he abandoned all hope of concentrating on his last few bits of admin, and shut down his laptop. After clearing up yet more pumpkin seeds that he’d somehow missed on the last two sweeps he’d done of the studio, he stepped outside, never wanting to see another bloody thing again. Too bad he had a whole bloody cardboard box of them waiting to go into the boot of Kay’s car for her party that night. Still, he was almost sinfully proud of the carvings he’d done on them. One was decorated the whole way around with the foliate style engravings usually reserved for the steel on antique guns, with different depths to create the highlights and shadows, and another particularly spherical one had been cut away in squares to resemble the Death Star.

The October air outside bit into his lungs as he drew a deep breath - the spicy, fragrantly damp scents of autumn filling his nose - and his eye was drawn to the twinkling lights of the little coffee cart that still lingered in the park, selling tea, coffee, and hot chocolate to chilly students leaving the university campus for the night. With a black coffee for himself in one hand, he made his way to the Engineering Department, warily holding another frothy concoction in his other. It was apparently called a ‘London fog’ and it smelled of earl grey tea and lavender. He thought it sounded (and smelled) disgusting, but Kay perked right up when he deposited it on her desk five minutes later.

“Bless you, Alec Twayblade,” she grinned, taking the plastic lid off and inhaling it like it was the best thing she’d ever smelled. “Oh my god. How can you not like this?” she said after taking a huge gulp and moaning obscenely.

Alec didn’t bother to reply, his eye-roll speaking volumes anyway. They’d had this discussion so many times that they were both probably playing it out silently in their heads right that second. When Kay glanced up and saw that he certainly was, she snorted and grinned. “I love you, Alec,” she laughed. “You’re still coming tonight?”

“Against my better judgement,” he growled, leaning his weight on her desk and folding his arms across his battered, blue cable knit sweater. He had a huge daub of yellow paint on one elbow from that morning, and a small burn hole in the bottom from a failed attempt at pyrography a few years ago. It was the most comfortable jumper he owned, and he would probably wear it until it unravelled around him.

“You’re still not going to wear a costume, are you?” she added as she stood, pouting.

He shook his head. “I draw the line at that.”

“But you’d be so good making one!” she countered. “You helped me with that bat costume when we were at high school… Don’t you remember how fucking awesome it was?”

“I do,” he chuckled. “But I’m not going to wear one myself.”

She sighed, shoulders slumping. “Too much attention, huh?” she said softly. “Well, you know you’ll stand out more if you’re not wearing one tonight…?”

He shrugged. Honestly, he just couldn’t be bothered to dress up. Halloween had rather lost its shine for him anyway. “Not if I hide in the kitchen all night and make too-strong cocktails for everyone,” he said, flashing her his most roguish grin. “Plus, I spent much of today carving pumpkins with nattering eighteen year olds who are far too old to be carving pumpkins on academic time, but —”

“— you’re an awesome teacher who understands the need to let off some steam on the holidays,” she interjected. “Plus, it’s good practice anyway… working with a new medium…”

He allowed his lips to pinch upwards into a tiny smirk and let her have that one. “It’s nice to see them having fun,” was all he said.

An hour or so later, just as he arranged the last of the pumpkins down the garden path of Kay's Victorian semi-detached house, a voice murmured from behind him, “I can see the hand of a master at work in these carvings.”

Not having heard anyone approaching, Alec jumped, cursed, and dropped the pumpkin - thankfully with the candle still unlit. It rolled in a semicircle until a black boot gently stopped it, and a familiar face dipped into view as the owner of the boot bent to pick it up. To his surprise, it was Sebastien, and he was in costume. Probably anyway. Hopefully? Fuck. Alec’s brain stalled at the sight of him.

His eyes raked up Sebastien’s body and his jaw went quite literally slack.

The slender man was wearing thigh-high boots and leather pants so tight they had to have been spray-painted on, into which was tucked a loose, old-fashioned, white shirt with a good bit of flounce at the collar. “Holy shit,” he whispered, and Sebastien chuckled softly, a low, amused sound in the back of his throat.

“You recognise the costume?” he asked, seeming innocently amused. The long, dark coat, accented with gold brocade and bright gold buttons, opened briefly in a soft gust of wind that made the lit pumpkins flicker and lifted his loose, silver-white hair back for a breath as well.

“I…” he swallowed. “Uh, you’re Alucard,” he croaked. “From the Castlevania games…” A wry incline of Sebastien’s head told him he was correct, and then Alec blurted stupidly, “Shouldn’t you be shirtless though?”

Sebastien’s smile grew from pleased to deeply amused, his eyes glittering, and it was only then that Alec noticed the contacts burning a bright gold in his eyes and, as his lips peeled back and Sebastien began to laugh, he saw long, tapering, white canines befitting a vampire costume. “It’s a little cold for that, don’t you think?” Sebastien asked, still laughing quietly as Alec flushed crimson.

“Sorry,” he blurted. “I know. I just… forget it.”

“Where do you want it?” Sebastien asked, and Alec’s poor brain went blank.

“What?”

“The pumpkin,” Sebastien deadpanned and Alec’s poor, blank brain melted out of his ears with embarrassment.

“Uh… there’s fine,” he said, pointing at the little wrought-iron garden gate.

Sebastien placed the pumpkin down on the flagstone path so that the carved graveyard scene glimmered and flickered with appropriate spookiness, visible to anyone approaching along the quiet, suburban street. Enormous London plane trees stood sentry every few paces, heaving up the tarmac pavement with their roots, like a sleeper shifting a blanket with a restless turn, and sheltering the cars snuggled and parked beneath them. A carpet of leaves clung to the gutter in a long, golden line, melting into nothing in places in the glittering puddles. It would have been beautiful, had Alec not been faced with quite literally the most beautiful thing in the entire universe.

“Am I early then?” Sebastien asked, dusting off his palms and turning back to face Alec, who had barely managed to make his legs work long enough to stand up straight again.

He shook his head. “No. Henry’s inside already,” he said, running his fingers through his scruffy black hair. “With Rachel and Alison. I just forgot to put the pumpkins out earlier.”

“No costume?”

With a roll of his eyes, he shook his head. “Nope.”

“Too bad,” Sebastien said, eyeing the front door. The contacts were really creepy, shifting in the light that spilled down the stairs as the front door suddenly opened and Kay stepped out before he could worry that he’d been the only one to dress up. He could probably brush it off anyway, Alec supposed, and tried not to envy the man’s quiet confidence.

Silhouetted starkly against the hall light, with her high ‘Dracula’ collar on prominent display, Kay shrieked with glee and clapped her hands when she saw Sebastien. Apparently the two of them had been getting along rather well, while Alec had sequestered himself away in the Art Department like an ascetic.

“Bastien! You look amazing oh my god!” she blurted, rushing forwards a step or two before halting abruptly. “Wait, does that make me your father for the evening?” she cackled. “Wow, your teeth are really good! Mine wouldn't stay in for more than a few minutes…”

Sebastien’s gold eyes flickered sideways to Alec but it happened so briefly that he almost missed it. “Custom made a long time ago,” was all he said. “Shall we go inside? It’s freezing out here.”

“Yes, of course, come on in,” she said, waving them all inside, Sebastien first. As Alec passed her last, she slapped him hard on the backside in rebuke and hissed, “Told you you should have worn a costume! You look like a big dumbo!”

“No different from any other night,” he quipped back, and she growled something indistinct at him. Perhaps a werewolf costume would have suited her better. “You could have told me you’d invited Dulac…”

“Why?” she retorted. “So you could suddenly decide that an evening moping alone with your PS4 playing Rocket League with strangers was more appealing? No fucking chance. Get inside. Sebastien’s right; I’m freezing my tits off.”

The distant murmur of voices in the living room made him veer off instinctively into the kitchen, and while they began to watch some old Hammer horror film, he made drinks. That, at least, he was good at.

Entering a while later, he found that Sebastien was seated on the sofa beside Henry, who wore an enormously fluffy wolfman costume - mostly a repurposed Chewbacca onesie with a latex wolf mask. He’d pushed the mask up onto his head in order to eat the Halloween themed nibbles on the coffee table, and the effect rendered him entirely ridiculous. Another reason not to wear a costume: it’s impractical, and gets in the way, and washing ketchup out of matted fake fur is a nightmare. Alison and Rachel sat practically in each other’s laps, one a zombie and the other a ghost, both squeezed into one groaning old armchair.

After half an hour of Christopher Lee’s admittedly creepy Dracula, Alec slid from his seat at the periphery, and ducked out again into the kitchen. Straightening from fishing a beer from the back of the fridge, he heard the soft click of the door and turned to find Sebastien standing there.

“Get bored with late 1950’s horror too?” Alec asked. “Beer?”

Sebastien inclined his head in a way that said he wasn’t a beer drinker and held up his almost-empty wineglass as an excuse as he moved a little closer. “If you don’t like cheesy horror films, and you don’t seem to like Halloween either, I wonder why you came at all tonight?”

“For Kay,” he said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “She loves this shit.”

At that, Sebastien paused, a delicate smile on his face. In the soft glow of the under-cupboard lighting, his tanned skin seemed to shimmer, and Alec wondered fleetingly if he’d put some kind of glittery body powder on. Next, he wondered what on earth Sebastien was doing in here with him, looking at him like that.

“You are a good friend,” Sebastien said quietly, seeming perhaps a little sad around the edges.

“She’s done more than her fair share of looking after me,” Alec sighed knowingly. “Not that I’m doing it because I owe her,” he added, twisting the cap off the bottle and leaning back against the counter to drink deeply from it. As the malty froth washed over his tongue, he felt eyes on him and looked over at the other man.

Sebastien tilted his head slightly to the side, the false golden light in his eyes making him look like a cat in the dark. “You said she was trying to set you up with someone…”

Alec snorted, nearly shooting beer out of his nose. “Yeah. Well, she seems to think a good fuck will sort my mood out.”

“But you think otherwise?”

“You offering?” he asked bitterly, taking another swig and feeling uncharacteristically bold, though absolutely not expecting the answer he got.

“Perhaps.”

His eyebrows shot up and this time he did cough a little. “You can’t be serious.”

“You think someone who looks like me is entirely straight?” he asked with a wry smile, and Alec had to hand it to him. Not many men he knew could pull of long, luscious, white-blond hair like that, or would have the confidence to wear fucking thigh-high boots and whisper-tight leather pants…

“Still… you don’t really know me… That’s all I meant…”

“Doesn't mean one couldn’t engage in — how did you call it? — ‘a good fuck’. Not that I’m averse to getting to know you better, before or after.”

Alec swallowed another enormous gulp of frothing beer and blinked. “You’re serious?”

With a melodramatic smile that revealed his vampire teeth clearly, ‘Alucard’ purred, “Deadly.”

And Alec burst out laughing. The spell was shattered and the two men shared the remnants of their drinks and their laughter together before Alec sighed. “Your place or mine?”

At that, Sebastien seemed to falter, as if he hadn’t thought through to that point. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “I assume yours would be alright?”

Alec shrugged. “Sure, if you don’t mind smacking your head on the ceiling and being able to touch two opposite walls at the same time…”

Sebastien’s lips hitched into another wry smile. “I’ve fucked in tighter spaces, I’m sure.”

“You know what?” Alec said as he rinsed out the beer bottle at the sink and half-turned to look at the other man over his shoulder. “You’re absolutely not what I expected.”

“Nor were you,” he shot back, still smirking. “And it’s been a while since I was assaulted by someone in a library.”

“Bring back happy memories, did it?” he snorted.

“Not exactly,” Sebastien murmured, and Alec realised he hadn’t actually been joking. “But I must confess that — despite my behaviour — I was pleasantly surprised by the sight of you when you rounded that bookshelf…”

Turning, Alec approached him cautiously. If he was genuinely serious about his proposal, Alec would find out now. “Pleased enough to seek me out afterwards…” he said, raising his eyebrows. He couldn’t do that ‘one brow at a time’ thing that Sebastien could, but it seemed to get his tone across all the same.

Unusually for Alec, Sebastien had an inch or two on him in height, and as Alec paused in front of him, close enough to catch the faintest hint of a woody cologne, the man angled his face just perfectly for the light to dance along his high cheekbones. Fuck, he was exquisite. The urge to kiss him rose in Alec; to feel his lips against his own, to have those elegant hands scrunch his hair…

As if reading his mind, Sebastien slowly, carefully, raised his right hand and brought his index finger to Alec’s chin, tilting it upwards just a fraction with the lightest pressure. The intensity in his eyes was almost too much, and it left Alec breathless. Again. Panting slightly, he parted his lips and then swallowed thickly.

Sebastien’s eyes darted instantly to the motion of his throat and for a second, Alec could have sworn he saw a vibrant red light reflected in his eyes. Sensing his moment of hesitation, of tension, Sebastian frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” Alec breathed. “I thought your eyes went red but it must have been a car on the street outside or something.”

“Indeed,” he murmured, but then blinked rapidly. “Do you still wish to continue this?”

“Yes,” he whispered. Don't stop now. His whole body was thrumming in a way it hadn’t ever before with casual encounters. He felt alive for the first time in months.

Sebastien stepped back, turning his face away a little more. “Should we make our excuses…?”

Alec shook his head. “Nah, Kay will know what’s going on anyway, and I don’t want to face her smug looks until tomorrow at the least.”

With a softly amused chuckle, Sebastien stepped back and allowed Alec to leave the room first. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as the other man followed behind, but he didn't turn around or look at him until they were outside on the main street.

“It’s a bit of a walk…” Alec said, only realising then how long the walk would be. “I’m way over on the other side of town by the station…”

The continuing intensity of Sebastien’s scrutiny was beginning to shift from a turn-on to just marginally unnerving, but he told himself that an esteemed professor at one of the country’s finest universities, with more letters after his name than anyone his age had a right to possess, was unlikely to be truly dangerous for a one-night stand… right? There was something about the way he stared at Alec — an unmistakable hunger in his eyes — that made his skin prickle and his heartbeat jump instinctively. Like a deer before the gaze of a tiger, he was entranced.

Unexpectedly, Sebastien’s easy stride slowed at the brick gateway to a small, gravel park that sat between an old church and a chemist, the latter closed at this time of night. “May I kiss you?” he breathed, still gazing at him unblinkingly, as though Alec were the pretty one in this equation, not him.

Alec couldn’t help grinning. The way Sebastien’s eyes bored into him then drove all thought of threat and fear from his mind, and he nodded.

The man’s hands were chilly from the night air, but the moment they cupped his jaw and drew Alec toward him, he forgot about that. He forgot about everything at the meeting of their lips. Sebastien began tentatively, merely brushing their lips together, but when his golden eyes fluttered closed, he deepened the gesture, tongue just begging entrance, teasing him before withdrawing, retreating and returning.

Searing want shot down Alec’s spine and he arched into Sebastien’s taller body, hips seeking contact through his jeans. He moaned, deep and guttural, and it seemed to awaken something in Sebastien, because the man grabbed hold of the back of Alec’s hair and pulled his head slightly to one side to begin to kiss along his jawline, down to wards his neck. For a heartbeat, Sebastien froze there, nose pressed to his rabbiting pulse point, his teeth just grazing skin, before he exhaled harshly and stepped back. “We shouldn’t get carried away,” was all he whispered, stepping slightly out of Alec’s dazed field of view. “My place is nearer though.”

“Ok,” Alec said, still reeling. “Sure.”

When they reached the apartment building, his steps faltered in amazement. “You live… here?”

A slight flush seemed to warm Sebastien’s cheeks as he stepped up to the main doorway, only to have it opened from the other side by a man in livery. “Good evening, Monsieur Dulac,” said the friendly doorman instantly.

“Good evening,” he replied. “This is my friend, Alec Twayblade.”

It was impossible for the doorman not to realise that his ‘friend, Alec Twayblade’ was going to be a little more than that for the night, but he never let a flicker of judgement pass across his face. From the concierge desk - Sebastien’s building had a fucking concierge desk too - another man looked up and wished them both a good evening as they headed for the lifts.

“Does the English department also sell diamonds or drugs or something? How the fuck can you afford a place like this on a lecturer’s salary?” but even as he said it and the doors closed with a soft chime, he realised the truth of it. Sebastien’s aristocratic features and bearing were not merely a persona. They were truth. He stared up at him while Sebastien turned a key in the lift panel.

“Are you secretly royalty or something?” he whispered, only half joking.

The man shot him an amused look and shook his head, silk-white hair whispering against the rougher wool of his costume coat. “No, of course not, but I do have some inherited wealth.”

Some? “So you don’t actually have to work at the university at all then?”

He made a so-so motion of his head and said, “No, not really, but I genuinely enjoy teaching.”

“Your students certainly seem to enjoy you…”

“You don’t enjoy teaching?” he asked as the numbers on the dial climbed and climbed.

Please don’t say you live in the fucking penthouse too, Alec thought, already suspecting it might be true from the whole ‘special access key’. He glanced at the number pad and saw that the button labelled ‘PH’ was illuminated. Fuck. “Most days I enjoy it,” he admitted. “But I kind of fell into it a while back and just sort of…” he shrugged, “Stuck with it.”

Sebastien asked no more, and the lift finally stopped on the top floor. The doors drew back to reveal an apartment beyond that Alec could only gawp at. It was like something from the set of an Architectural Digest photo shoot. Nothing was out of place in the hardwood floor paradise, with clean, crisp lines and white marble counter tops in the kitchen off to his left, while a comfortable, and yet still clinically modern, sitting area sat to their right. Deep, fluffy rugs dotted that part of the penthouse, and a wide balcony stretched out over the city beyond, complete with a little table and chairs for warmer evenings.

“This place is incredible,” Alec breathed, the reason for his even being here completely forgotten.

Clearly sensing that, Sebastien smiled bashfully and said, “Would you like something to drink?”

Alec cleared his throat and hoped he wasn’t going to be faced with a choice between very expensive wines that he’d never heard of. “Sure… thanks.”

“White, red, beer, or whisky?” he asked, walking towards the kitchen and dumping his ‘Alucard’ coat over the back of a white sofa as he went. Alec’s mouth went dry as he watched the point where his narrow hips met the flowing material of the white shirt. Dear god, an arse like that shouldn’t be… well, it just shouldn’t be. And yet there it was. Clad in leather and looking positively delectable. “Or a soft drink?” he added when Alec remained silent.

Aware of where his gaze had landed, Sebastien halted and looked back over his shoulder, long, loose, naturally straight hair already losing the curls that had been worked into it for the Alucard costume. Definitely not straight, if he owned hair curlers.

“Uh…” Alec said, unsure what the question had even been now.

“I’m going to pour myself a whisky, if that helps…?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Sebastien smiled, looking almost endeared by Alec’s inept stuttering. Surely he couldn’t be unused to such a reaction? “Make yourself at home then.”

With a smoky, peat-tinged whisky in a wide, heavy-bottomed tumbler set on his glass coffee table, Alec watched Sebastien turn the gas fire on, and, to his surprise, he came to a halt directly in front of him. Setting his own whisky down on the table with a deliberate, and yet delicate, clunk, Sebastien turned back to him and raked his eyes down Alec’s body in a way that made him flush hot all over. His cock twitched with interest and he tried not to preen under that gaze.

Sebastien’s eyes and teeth were back to normal now, with no hint of the golden contacts or the vampire fangs, and Alec fleetingly assumed that he must have removed them at some point between getting the whisky and appearing in front of him looking like he was about to ravish him. Oh dear god, please let him be about to ravish me, he thought with a big, dumb grin spreading across his face.

Seeing his reaction, Sebastien reached down and knelt facing him on the sofa, running his palm over the already-growing bulge in Alec’s jeans. Alec let out a deep grunt and rocked his hips up into the contact, throwing his head back against the soft, open weave of the white fabric. “Oh fuck,” he hissed.

Sebastien’s fingers found the button of his jeans and deftly undid it, but he paused. “May I?” he asked, and Alec found himself nodding before he’d even worked out what Sebastien wanted.

He found out a moment later, when his jeans were around his ankles and Sebastien was kneeling on the floor between his knees and licking a long stripe up the length of his rapidly hardening cock.

“Oh god,” he panted as the wet heat of Sebastien’s mouth engulfed half of his length and then drew back to leave his wet tip exposed to the slight chill of the apartment air. The contrast stole his breath for a heartbeat, but Sebastien returned his attentions to his cock, gently sucking and working him to full hardness in a matter of minutes.

Pleasure sparked through Alec’s whole body and he strained not to thrust back into Sebastien’s mouth, even as Sebastien took him right to the back of his throat, the tip of Alec’s cock nudging against the silky resistance of his throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” he chanted as Sebastien’s fingertips just teased and caressed the underside of his balls too, and Sebastien hollowed his cheeks and sucked a little more insistently. “Oh fuck…” Really fucking eloquent here, Alec, he thought vaguely, but one look down at the vision kneeling between his legs and sucking him off drove even that thought from his brain.

The suck and slide of Sebastien’s mouth was incredible, and while he had no idea quite how much time passed, it felt like mere seconds as the heat stoked in him until he could feel the orgasm threatening to crash through him. “I’m… I’m really close…” he gasped as Sebastien moaned against his cock, sending little vibrations thrumming through him and tipping him even closer. The sharp prick of his teeth every now and again was a perfect counterpoint to the slick heat of his mouth, and it was never enough to hurt. Normally Alec wasn’t one for including teeth in this, but with Sebastien, it felt perfect.

Sebastien pulled back just as Alec felt himself beginning to coil up, his lips swollen and glistening from the exertion of bringing him that close, and he smiled. He looked radiant, and Alec’s cock twitched enthusiastically in his hands as he let out a soft whimper. The air was cold and his tip beaded pre-come freely, which Sebastien thumbed away with a surprisingly tender gesture, only to watch as more pearled immediately at his slit. Using just the tip of his tongue, Sebastien lapped at it delicately and Alec’s whole body shuddered.

His thighs shook at the tiny, intense stimulation, with Sebastien's fingers gripping the base of his cock in a tight circle, and he gasped, chest heaving. It was too much and not enough, and as he found his perineum teased as well, he bellowed and trembled. He was half a heartbeat away from coming harder than he could ever remember coming in his life, and Sebastien wasn’t going to let him have it. He roared and ground his teeth, bucking his hips, which made Sebastien laugh softly.

“Alright,” he heard him murmur, before he swallowed him down to the back of his throat again, and Alec shattered with a yell.

When he finally blinked his eyes open, he found that Sebastien had risen and was sitting on the small sofa beside him, whisky in hand, staring openly at him. He didn’t look smug exactly, but there was a quiet satisfaction to his brown eyes that made Alec flush, at which Sebastien’s beautiful lips drew back into a smile. He noted again those slightly larger canines, but they were nothing like the vampire teeth he had worn earlier.

“What do you want?” Alec asked, voice hoarse. God, he sounded wrecked. Had he really shouted so hard he’d made his throat sore?

Sebastien’s dolorous, dark eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. “What do you want?”

“To watch you come,” he said immediately.

“And how would you like me to come?” Sebastien replied, sipping nonchalantly at the golden liquor as if the were discussing what Alec would like Sebastien to wear. As it was, his leather pants were constricting his obvious hard-on in a way that had to be painful for him, and his shirt was open at the neck to reveal delicate collarbones and a glimpse of his beautiful olive skinned chest.

He was an absolute vision. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he blurted in a whisper before he could stop himself, and to his surprise, Sebastien laughed. The sound was bright, delighted, and oddly self-conscious, as if he hadn’t been expecting a compliment like that. “Sorry,” he added, looking away. “Look… if you’ve got condoms, I’m… I’m good to… you know…”

“You want me to fuck you?” Sebastien asked, his gaze sharpening again.

“Yes?”

“’Yes?’ Or ‘yes’…?” Sebastien asked, seeking clarification.

“Yes. But I don't understand your question.”

“Look at me,” Sebastien said.

“Hard not to…” Alec quipped back, still feeling utterly wrung out.

“Most people assume I’m going to be the one taking it…”

Alec’s eyebrows rose as realisation settled. “Oh. And, what, I look like a top?”

Sebastien’s lips twitched. “Conventionally more so than I do, with your rugged looks and the rough shadow around your jaw…”

“So… do you want me to… you know…? Or…” Fuck, he felt like a teenager again, struggling to articulate himself and not get his sentences in a tangle while this breathtaking creature just sat there and watched him make an idiot out of himself.

“I very much want to fuck you,” Sebastien said at last. “If you’d like that as well.”

“Yes,” he said instantly.

Sebastien set down his glass and rose in a single, elegant motion, and then held his hand out to Alec.

His skin was still cool, especially next to Alec’s searing body, and his hold was steady as Alec heaved himself to his feet and allowed himself to be alternately tugged and kissed into the bedroom.

___

Part Three

Behold, plot has appeared to go with the Halloween porn I had planned. Alec’s family will come up in the next chapter.

___

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

#vampire #male vampire #male vampire x human #exophilia #vampire boyfriend #male vampire x male human #male monster #mlm #mlm exophilia

224 notes · View notes

caranfindel · 3 years

Text

Fic: You don’t know how it feels (to be me)

gen, s6 | about 3600 words | pg for language | characters: soulless sam winchester, dean winchester

synopsis: Soulless Sam tries to deal with his brother's feelings about, well, everything. Including his hair. Set in season 6, before "You Can't Handle the Truth."

An idea I had a long time ago, resuscitated by Jared's Walker haircut. The title is from "You Don't Know How It Feels" by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.

. . . . . .

It's a stupid case.

The manager of the county fairgrounds is a stooped, gnarled old man wearing one of those ball caps veterans wear sometimes. Gold embroidery on the dark blue hat proudly displays the name of his ship or submarine or whatever. Sam doesn't care about his ship or submarine or whatever. He doesn't care about this guy's service at all. Most days, old Blue Hat here got three meals a day and a warm, dry place to sleep in exchange for whatever he gave up. He got a pension when he was done fighting. Sam gets to scrounge for cheap food and sleep in crappy hotels when he's lucky enough to actually land someplace other than the back seat of the Impala. Sam's service to his country earned him a trip to Hell. Sam will get to stop fighting when he's dead. His only pension will be a pyre.

Sam doesn't even get to sleep any more.

(This should bother him. But the truth is, it doesn't.)

Blue Hat frowns at Sam's ID and snorts derisively. "You don't look like a Fed. You look like a goddamn hippie."

He rolls his eyes at the old man, even though he knows Dean hates it when he does that. It's something he didn't do Before, no matter how annoying or insipid the witness. Sam doesn't give a good goddamn what this guy thinks about his hair, but apparently his brother does. "He's been doing some undercover work," Dean says. "Sometimes you've got to look like a goddamn hippie to blend in."

Blue Hat sniffs his disapproval and ignores Sam for the rest of the interview, directing all of his answers to Dean. Which is fine. The old guy doesn't seem to have anything useful to add anyway. Sam leaves his brother to the pointless interview about the stupid case and wanders around the building, taking pictures of the unexplained runes that brought them here. He's bored. The sudden appearance of mysterious runes on the bland metal exterior of a county fairgrounds building feels witchy, and Sam really doesn't care about witches. Two measly deaths, quite possibly from natural causes, and now he's out here standing in cow shit. Or goat shit or pig shit. This entire day has been shit, literally and figuratively.

Dean joins him after a couple of minutes, apparently done with Blue Hat. "What do you think?" he asks.

Sam shrugs. "Too early to tell. If these runes are what Bobby thinks they are, they'll change under moonlight, but moonrise isn't until 9:05 pm."

“Jesus," Dean moans. "I can't stay awake that long. I've already gone almost two days. Let's go back to the motel and crash, and we'll hit this place again tonight."

Or not, Sam wants to say. I think you jumped on this paper-thin excuse for a job just because the alternative was sitting in a motel room with me waiting for an actual case to come up, Sam wants to say. But neither of these are things he would have said Before, and Dean is so goddamn twitchy about Sam being different than Before.

As they turn back to the Impala, Dean glances at Sam with a slight smile. "Dude's not wrong, you know."

“What?"

“You do look like a goddamn hippie." Dean's hand twitches toward Sam, like he's going to smack him on the back of the head or ruffle his hair, but he pulls back without touching him. Because they don't do that now. Casual, good-natured, brotherly contact isn't a thing now. Dean doesn't touch him unless there are injuries involved.

(This is another thing that should bother Sam. It would have, Before.)

. . .

Dean hangs his suit in the closet, sets an alarm, and collapses on top of the covers. Sam stares at his own bed. The threat of spending hours pretending to be asleep makes his skin crawl. If Dean falls asleep quickly enough, he can skip the whole charade.

“Hey, I think I'm gonna shower first," he says.

Dean doesn't open his eyes. "Just don't wake me up when you get out."

In the bathroom, Sam turns on the water but doesn't get undressed. He stands at the mirror, staring at his too-long hair. Why has he bothered to hold onto it? He remembers caring about his hair. He remembers it being a small fuck you to John, the one area in his life where he was able to cling to some autonomy. It's not that he's forgotten about that; he just doesn't give a shit any more.

And like Dean said, Blue Hat wasn't wrong. He does look like a hippie. The hair is a hazard, and it does clash with any kind of law enforcement disguise. Maybe it's time to do something about it. He has time to kill anyway, while Dean sleeps.

(Sam should care that he doesn't need to sleep any more. Dean would definitely care, if he found out. Dean cares so much about any aspect of Sam that is less normal than he thinks it ought to be. Even if it's something that makes him a better hunter. Dean didn't appreciate it when Sam could exorcise demons without killing the host, and Dean wouldn't appreciate that Sam can get so much done when he's not sleeping. He could never understand why this version of Sam is so much better than the way he was Before. It's a shame Dean hasn't discovered the option of Not Caring.)

(Sometimes Sam wonders if getting back with Dean is worth the trouble.)

(And that should bother him too.)

Sam shuts off the shower and pulls out his phone. He needs to find a barber shop in walking distance. Dean will get all pissy if he wakes up and the car is gone; less so if only Sam is missing. Luckily, there's a shop that might still be open. It's one of those ridiculous sports-themed places that presumes men are fussy toddlers who need to be distracted from the ignominy of a hair cut. At least they tend to be staffed by women, and those women tend to be prettier than average. With any luck, he can kill two birds with one stone.

When he opens the bathroom door, Dean is either asleep, or pretending to be. Sam scrawls couldn't sleep, back soon on the motel notepad and closes the door behind him as silently as possible.

(He misses his car. He didn't have an emotional attachment to it, like Dean and the Impala, but it was convenient and it suited him.)

(He doesn't actually have an emotional attachment to anything. That should bother him.)

. . .

Two stylists, both predictably prettier than average, look up when he walks in. The redhead says "sorry, sir, we're just about to close up," and continues sweeping up hair trimmings. But the brunette looks him up and down and smiles. And Sam's partial to brunettes anyway.

He gives her a once-over in return and smiles back. "Do you have time for just a quick cut? I'd be eternally grateful."

She stares at him for a minute, appraising. "Well, how could I turn down an offer of eternal gratefulness?" she says with a wink. She turns to the redhead. "Why don't you go on home. I've got this."

The redhead dumps her clippings into a trash can. "You sure?"

"I'm sure. You mind locking the door behind you? I don't want any more last-minute customers walking in."

The redhead raises her eyebrows, but gathers her purse and jacket and makes her escape as Sam settles into the brunette's chair.

“I'm Marianne," she says, as she starts to drape a cape over his shoulders.

“I'm Sam. But listen. I get too hot under those capes. Would it be okay if we skip it? And I just take my shirt off so I don't get hair all over it?"

Marianne smiles like the cat who caught the canary. "Not a problem, sweetheart."

Sam slips out of his dress shirt and drapes it over the empty chair next to him. Marianne watches him the whole time, eyes roving over the muscles exposed by his snug white undershirt. It's like shooting fish in a barrel.

He sits back in the chair and Marianne stands behind him. Her chest brushes against his shoulders. "So," she asks, "what are we doing today?"

“Shorter. Off my collar, above my ears."

She slips her fingers through his hair, measuring its length. "You sure? This length looks pretty good on you. Just needs to be cleaned up a bit."

“It's for a job. The long hair doesn't fly any more."

“Aw, that's a shame." Marianne's still running her fingers through his hair. "If you've got a lady in your life, I bet she'll miss it. A girl likes something to hold onto."

Well. The best lies are based on a kernel of truth. Sam looks into his lap and lets his smile go sad and soft. "That's kind of why I'm here. My girlfriend died and I thought I'd try to start over. New place, new job, new life. But yeah, that's always been one of my favorite things. A girl grabbing my hair in the heat of the moment. I should have tried to find someone to do that one more time before I had to cut it off."

Marianne leans forward, pressing her breasts harder against him. When he looks up, she meets his eyes in the mirror, then flicks a glance toward a door marked Employees Only. “You know," she says, "that could probably be arranged."

Seriously. Fish in a goddamn barrel.

. . .

Dean's awake when Sam gets back to the motel room, but he doesn't look up from the laptop. "Couldn't sleep?"

“I guess I napped a little in the car on the way down here," Sam lies. "And then, you know, a lot of caffeine this morning."

“Whatever. I'm not the sleep police. I hope you brought food, cause I could —" Dean looks at Sam and stops mid-sentence, mouth still open. "You cut your hair?"

“Yeah."

“Why?"

“What do you mean, why? Like old what's-his-face said, I looked like a hippie, not an FBI agent. And you've been telling me to cut it for years."

“Yeah, I have. I've been saying that for years and you've been ignoring me for years. Now some random witness calls you a hippie and you go running to Supercuts?"

Sam sighs. Dean may not be the sleep police, but he's awfully eager to step in as the hair police, enforcing his own set of laws about Sam's hair. "Why does it matter? You wanted me to cut it. Everyone wanted me to cut it. And I cut it. Can we move on now?"

It's a statement almost guaranteed to make Dean bow up in anger, but instead, he deflates. "It's just… nothing. Fine. Moving on." He closes the laptop and pulls his keys out of his coat pocket. "We've still got an hour or so before moonrise. I'm gonna go run through McDonald's. You want a chicken sandwich, or is that something else you're not interested in any more?"

Jesus Christ. This is what passes for moving on. But Sam needs that shower now, and none of this is worth arguing about.

(Few things are any more. That seems like it should matter.)

“Yeah, that sounds great, thanks."

By the time Dean gets back, the sandwich is cold and the ice in Sam's drink is mostly melted. He pretends to enjoy it anyway.

. . .

Their drive back to the fairgrounds is quiet. Dean occasionally steals an unhappy glance at Sam's hair, but doesn't say anything. Sam ignores it.

They pull into the parking lot in front of the marked building. Without even getting out of the car, they can see that the runes have changed. The broad strokes are softly luminescent, glowing a pale blue in the moonlight.

“Okay, so that answers that question," Sam says. Thank God. Now they can leave without wandering around the grounds, soaking up the barnyard smell again. Wrap this up and start working on something more important. But Dean gets out of the car and looks at Sam expectantly. Well, crap. Sam dutifully follows him closer to the building and tries to think of how he would have felt about this development Before.

“Cool," he says. Dean narrows his eyes at him. "I mean, cool that our theory was right. Not, you know, cool that someone is using this kind of spellwork to make sure their pig wins a blue ribbon at the fair. That part's… pretty awful." But Dean's still looking at him funny, so he probably overcorrected on that one. It's just hard, any more.

Dean rubs the back of his neck as he examines the glowing runes. "If that's all they're doing, more power to them. I couldn't care less. But we need to make sure that's all they're doing. I mean, people died, Sam. We need to figure out if this is why." He pulls out his phone. "Gonna take some pictures to send Bobby." There's no reason to remind him they already have pictures. If Dean thinks additional pictures are more effective and efficient than "just like this, but glowing blue," that's up to him. Sam will most likely solve the damn case later tonight anyway, while Dean sleeps.

And he almost does. Dean knocks back a couple of glasses of whiskey when they get back to the motel, and falls asleep pretty soon after that. Sam doesn't bother to feign sleep — Dean doesn't seem to care, right now, whether his brother gets any sleep or not. But when Sam realizes his own photos missed a crucial corner of the building, he opens his brother's phone and finds his last text to Bobby. There's only one picture, and it's not glowing runes. It's him. Just a dark, slightly blurry picture of Sam, obviously taken earlier that night at the fairgrounds. And a text conversation.

See, I told you, it's short. I don't know what's going on. I swear he's just different.

Yeah, I get it. It's different. He's different. But what'd you expect? Of course he's not the same as he was. Hell changed him.

It didn't change me this much.

His Hell wasn't the same as yours. I know it didn't last very long, but remember, he was in the cage with the devil. We don't know what happened to him in there. Give him some time.

Well. Fuck. Dean's talking about him behind his back. Dean doesn't trust him. Dean thinks, once again, that something is wrong with him.

(That would have hurt, Before. Now it's just an annoyance. A distraction. Something to be dealt with.)

Yes, Hell changed him. Hell burned away all the crap, all the useless feelings, the guilt and shame and fear of failure. Hell purified him. Hell carved out the weakness and left nothing but pure, strong hunter. Dean, of all people, should appreciate the result. But Dean does not, and now Sam has to cater to his tiresome attachment to everything Sam was Before.

Fine. He can make that work.

Sam quietly puts Dean's phone back on the nightstand. He strips down to boxers and his t-shirt, sets an alarm, and crawls into bed. Pretending to sleep is tedious, but a couple of hours of boredom right now might spare him weeks of Dean's moodiness about him being different.

(As if Hell could leave you untouched. As if anyone in their right mind would expect that. As if Dean himself didn't know this first hand, for fuck's sake.)

. . .

Sam spends the next day focusing on acting the way he did Before. When his alarm goes off he stretches, yawns, and pretends he had a good night's sleep. He goes for a run, brings back coffee, showers quickly, and rolls his eyes when Dean makes a crack about him being able to spend less time in the shower now. At breakfast, he smiles at the (cute, definitely worth a bang) waitress, but doesn't flirt or even check her out as she walks away. He's figured out that Dean wants Sam to want to get laid (but not too much; he's definitely not supposed to want it as much as Dean wants it) but for some reason doesn't want him to actually get lucky. And he definitely would have gotten lucky. He spends the day looking empathetic, acting like this whole thing hasn't been a colossal waste of time. Like he cares about everything. About anything.

(God, it's exhausting.)

It turns out the deaths probably don't have anything to do with the witch at all. They return to the fairgrounds one last time, where Sam plants hex bags and paints runes on the corners of the building that will block the witch's simple spells - not that he cares whether the witch achieves anything or not, just on principle. His own runes are small and subtle enough that this novice witch (they must be a novice; no one with any experience would be naive enough to make their work so noticeable) won't even know they're in place. And if the witch escalates, well, that's not exactly Sam's problem.

When he's finished, he wipes his hands on his jeans and says "We should get Chinese for dinner. When's the last time you ate a vegetable?" Because monitoring everyone's vegetable intake is something he did Before.

They're finishing Chinese takeout in their motel room (beef with broccoli for Dean, eggplant in garlic sauce for Sam, because occasional bouts of vegetarianism were also a thing he did Before) when he catches Dean looking at his hair, very clearly wanting to say something.

So. It's go time.

Sam tries to make his eyes big and sad. The puppy dog look, Dean always called it. It was never intentional Before, but now he has to work at it. "Listen," he says. "I owe you an apology. I haven't been telling you the whole truth."

“No shit," Dean says. He's trying to sound nonchalant, but his body language screams that he's bracing for something. "So, spill it. What's your big confession?"

(That I don't care about any of this. This piddly little case. My hair. You. Nothing. And you can't imagine, Dean, you cannot even begin to imagine the incredible freedom of not caring. I wish you could, but you just can't.)

No, he can't say any of that. But the best lies are built on a kernel of truth.

Sam takes a deep, anxious breath and looks at Dean. No, wait. Look away. "You know, I told you I don't remember Hell. And I really don't. Not consciously, anyway. But when we were fighting those demons a couple of weeks ago, one of them grabbed me by the hair, and I felt something… it was a sense memory, I guess. It felt like Hell, for some reason. Like it was something that happened to me in Hell, someone grabbing my hair and pulling my head back and getting ready to cut my throat or… whatever."

He doesn't have to elaborate on whatever. Dean knows the whatevers of Hell better than anyone. He's probably dealing with a little sense memory of his own right now, of clutching someone's hair and pulling their head back in preparation for whatever. And now Sam does look at his brother, who is staring at him with wide, horrified eyes.

“Ever since then," Sam continues, "I just feel like I've been on the verge of remembering something. Something I don't want to remember. And I'm tired of worrying that I'm gonna have a Hell flashback every time I wash my hair."

Dean looks like he's going to vomit. Perfect.

“I'm sorry," Sam says. "It threw me, and I just didn't want to talk about it. But I shouldn't have kept it from you."

For a second, he's sure he has gone too far. Dean is going to say what's this bullshit, Sam, you would never apologize for something like that, so tell me what's really going on. But he doesn't. He stares at Sam for a minute, then looks away and wipes a hand down his face.

“Yeah, okay. Okay. You, ah. You good now? Is it working?"

Sam shrugs. "Hard to say. It hasn't been very long. But yeah, I feel a little more… stable, I guess."

And then it’s time to go for the kill.

Sam gives him the sad smile. (He never used to think of it as a sad smile; never used to think of it as anything at all. It was just what his face did. Every expression requires so much thought now.) "Listen. I know things are weird. I know I'm weird. Different. I know it's hard for you. If this is all more than you want to deal with right now, I understand."

Dean frowns. "What are you saying?"

“Just, I can go back with Samuel and his crew if you don't want to do this any more. You and me, I mean. No hard feelings, I promise."

Dean's face crumples. "What? No, fuck, no, Sam. I don't. You and me, we're good. I'm just getting used to things. That's all."

“Okay." Sam gives his best approximation of a grateful smile.

“So. Uh." Dean looks around the room nervously, like he's waiting for the other shoe to fall, then stands. "I think I'm gonna go get a drink. You wanna come with, or…"

Even if Sam believed Dean really wanted him to come along — and he doesn't; this is obviously Dean's way of retreating from a situation he doesn't want to think about — pretending to sleep when Dean's gone is one of the easier ways of making it look like he actually does sleep sometimes. "No. I'm beat," he says. "I think I'll just go to bed."

“Okay. Yeah. That sounds like a good idea." Dean takes his keys out of his pocket and anxiously tosses them in his hand. When he finally does turn to Sam, he looks at his hair, not his eyes. "Hey, you know, it does. It does look good on you."

Sam ducks his head shyly, like someone who's not used to praise. Who doesn't think he deserves it. "Thanks." When he looks up, Dean is already halfway out the door, putting as much space between himself and his little brother's hellscape as possible.

(Seriously. Fish in a fucking barrel.)

#my fic #sam winchester #dean winchester #soulless sam is my spirit animal #spn #season 6

62 notes · View notes

tundrainafrica · 3 years

Text

Title: Lovebug (2/10)

Summary:

“It might be a bug.”

“A bug?”

“Sometimes the developers of this application make mistakes. This is our first time meeting I’m sure so…Isn’t it a bit weird that we just met for the first time and it rings like this? And for two strangers to coincidentally ring each other’s alarms?“

Levi is the developer of the Love Alarm App and Hange is married to Zeke.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Other Chapters: 1 3 4 5

Notes: I was torn between publishing the next chapter of lovebug or outlier tonight so I opted to just go for lovebug. I'll post the next chapter of outlier mid next week. As always, feedback is very much appreciated.

“We’re gonna delay the release of our next fix…” Levi repeated, just a little slower that time. He didn’t trust himself then to speak in anything faster or with a tone any louder.

It was too early in the morning for a meeting, just a little past eight in the morning. He was called into Erwin’s office right after arriving into company grounds and Erwin, a natural early bird, was talking louder than what could have been considered bearable for Levi.

At eight in the morning though, not a lot of things were bearable, especially if they involved a huge change of plans and a glaring reminder that he had a long work day ahead of him.

More importantly, Erwin’s voice was grating in a way that most bosses’ voices were grating when laced with a little more urgency than necessary. “Yes Levi, we’re delaying our fixes indefinitely, not just for Love Alarm but all of our other apps as well.”

Levi raised his eyebrows. “Really? You know we’ve been announcing this big fix for months.”

“I’ve contacted the marketing team. We are pushing the fixes back a week. You think that will be enough for you to finish everything you need?”

Levi shook his head. “There’s no need to push back the release. I can work on this bug now and I can have the other developers and the support team work on getting the regression testing done and getting the release out.”

Erwin shook his head. “I do not want to give Mr. Jaeger the impression that we aren’t prioritizing his complaints. Levi, you have to understand. He’s an important client.”

“I understand that. And I will be on top of things. I’m testing this issue myself.” Most days, Levi left the testing option to the support team. Given the nature of the bug though and the severe urgency of getting it fixed, it had been an easy decision for Levi to take it upon himself.

Erwin hummed in approval. “Yes and I’m happy to hear that you're going to be investigating this bug. I would rather that we didn’t release anything while investigating this.”

“May I ask why? This bug doesn’t involve any of our other functionalities. I can test this myself.”

Erwin hummed. “Zeke Jaeger is an unpredictable man. I don’t think he would appreciate us improving our product while such a glaring bug still exists. He is a very vocal and he might give us some bad press.”

“Oh?” Levi heard the derision in his own tone then, a smooth yet venomous sound. Zeke Jaeger had been outwardly friendly yet for some reason Levi couldn’t explain just yet. He wasn’t at all drawn by the charisma that accompanied it. In fact, the blonde had just been annoying and the conversation only cemented Levi’s first impression of Zeke Jaeger as bad, maybe even terrible.

What the hell does Hange see in him? He added to himself then. How that had entered his own contemplations then, he didn’t know. He quickly brushed it away and mustered the most seemingly uninvested face he could make then.

Erwin had that special talent of seeming uninvested either. As he settled on the sofa in front of Levi, he mixed the coffee just a little too loudly. He had an aura about him that very much meant business. “Have you done some prior investigation?”

“I did,” Levi said. As he soon found out, that aura was contagious.

“Anything new?”

“I’m entertaining the idea that what if…. The application is working fine?”

“Can you explain why his partner had two hearts while he had none?”

Levi cleared his throat. “Assuming the application is working perfectly, we can draw two conclusions. One, someone in love with Hange Zoe had their application on and Two, Hange Zoe isn’t in love with Zeke Jaeger.” That last conclusion couldn’t have easily been true, but still such words left such a sweet aftertaste in Levi’s mouth that he had to make some considerable effort not to smile.

Erwin raised his eyebrows inquisitively. “Any leads on whose application could have been on?”

It had taken some strength, some self confidence and some self discipline on Levi’s side to pull his phone out then. “My love alarm was on yesterday, I forgot to turn it off after the demo…” He navigated to the ‘history’ tab and opened his history to the exact time to late afternoon yesterday.

One person nearby is in love with you. Levi read silently to himself. In that split second, he was contemplating display issues and front end bugs that maybe just maybe accidentally chalked Hange’s heart as ‘love.’ It was highly unlikely though so even before that idea had ripened into something worth an explanation and a support ticket, Levi brushed it aside.

“So your application was on the whole time.” Erwin murmured, looking intently at the phone in front of him.

Levi nodded. “But it’s a good step in the right direction. That means there’s a bug to investigate after all. I just have to isolate it to either Hange Zoe’s application build or mine,” he explained.

“That seems promising and do you need any help organizing a meeting with her.”

“She’s coming today for a little testing.”

“Just like my best engineer to think a few steps ahead.” Erwin asked, a smile curling up his lips. “And you think you can get it done within a week?”

“If all goes well… Even less than a week.”

***

It had turned out that that small meeting had worked well to organize Levi’s thoughts. He had a quick action plan from there and with an action plan, a new burst of motivation, or at least enough of it to carry him from Erwin’s room to his own small office space in a little less than five minutes.

A week to investigate. Levi thought to himself as he leaned back on his office chair. He looked back up at the ceiling for a good few seconds before writing his deadline down on the white board next to him.

He didn’t need that whiteboard, their workflow trackers and excel sheets worked well to always keep Levi in the right state of mind. Yet there was something organic about white boards, something natural about being able to write the numbers with his own hand, freely changing his fonts with just the slight of the hand, impulsively changing formats at just a quick motion.

So he kept it there next to him, a large annoying waste of space to most people. But Levi had taken great pains to make it look organized in his room, measuring each frame to the millimeter. It was a large clean slate right next to his desk in his very small office. And more importantly, it was something that was very much his to play around with like he wanted to.

Under the deadline, he put the new release date of their fix.

We’re delaying the release of the next fix by a week.

Such wise words from someone who didn’t know how the investigation process actually worked. But with an employee and boss relationship, emphasis on Levi being the employee, he had to make it work. That’s how it had always been in the office. Erwin wasn’t a developer. He was a manager. And Levi was being paid by him.

Levi though never liked the idea of delaying fix releases. Once the date was announced, he liked to make sure all of the quality assurance testing and the regression testing was done two weeks ahead. And with that habit becoming custom for the Love Alarm project, he was sure they would have managed to make the release next week. Staring at the workflow interface, he noted the bar was more than half full already, most bugs were tagged as fix. All test builds were submitted and passed and they could have easily moved on to the final regression testing before release.

And regression testing never actually failed. The Love Alarm app after all was a very functionally simple application.

With the weight of a wasted timely release and the powerlessness of corporate politics bare on his back, Levi let out a long sigh.

He opened up his slack channel and typed out a few words.

We’re delaying the next fix release.

But it wouldn’t just be the Love Alarm which would be affected, all the other applications would be affected as well. His notifications exploded within five seconds, all feedback from each time. Levi started to wonder, maybe he should have put everything in one message.

So he edited his old message.

We’re pushing it back a week.

Under that, he put a new date and time as a reminder to all other employees. There were many why’s, many protests and his application continued to shake with notifications.

He checked the time on his phone. Hange had agreed to meet at nine and she should be texting soon. With little to no brains pace to create a summary of his meeting with Erwin in less than ten minutes, Levi typed out two words.

Erwin’s orders. Without waiting for anymore protests, he closed his laptop, packed up his things and ready to move to the small conference room he had reserved for him and Hange.

It was a few floors below. A small room among others but Levi was familiar enough with the layout of their offices to know it was very much soundproof.

Any unwelcome alarms, unwelcome notifications and unwelcome conversations would stay in that room. Even before Levi had dropped off his things in the conference room, Hange had already texted.

Her car was by the gate already.

Meet in the lobby. Levi texted back as he quickened his pace, quickly turning back towards the elevator, laptop bag still in hand.

He could have been too slow. Or Hange could have just been too fast but by the time he had arrived in the lobby, she was already on one of the seats next to the reception, playing around with her phone.

She was wearing a light sweater, her brown hair was pulled up messily into a half ponytail. Levi though had to note that it still looked very much like it fell into place. For a second, he had given her a good onceover, admiring everything at once.

Only a split second later, he was cruelly reminded that he had made her wait, long enough for her to have to sit down in one of the lobby sofas. “How long were you waiting?” It wouldn’t have been the first greeting Levi would have liked to give then. His heart was racing though and soon he realized, maybe he had taken up the unnecessary challenge of jogging down those five flights of stairs while keeping his laptop safely in tow.

Hange looked up from her phone seeming surprised. “Are you busy? Was this a bad time to visit?” Hange asked. “We could reschedule... “

More and more, the first greeting then was seeming less and less ideal. “No, no. This is great. I don’t know what just came over me. Thank you for taking the time to test this bug with me.”

Hange shook her head. “No, no, I asked my partner to invest in this application for a reason. I see great potential and I’d be happy to tweak some of those bugs with you.” Her lips widened into a smile. “So what’s the game plan?”

Levi gestured towards the elevators. “We do some simple testing. I just need to isolate the cause of this bug.”

“Oh? How does application testing work?”

“We use the application,” Levi answered matter-of-factly. Was there any other way to test it? It didn’t seem like something he should be asking the very important partner of a very important person though so Levi kept that last question to himself, instead keeping his face then as something both subtle and questioning.

“That’s cool,” Hange said. “So how’s your job?”

“It’s fine,” Levi answered. “The investigation will keep me busy.” He stared at the numbers on the elevator, getting lower and lower and Levi could have sworn it couldn’t go any slower. He could have found some consolation if anybody else had joined them in the elevator then, to at least abate that awkward need to carry some conversation between them.

Any other employees though had chosen for themselves to wait in front of other elevators. Levi was almost considering doing the same thing.

After all, Hange was talkative. She was asking questions. When they entered the elevator together, the very slow elevator, there would be more than enough time to send two to three questions back and forth. And Levi was quick to realize, he was an incredibly boring person.

“So do you have any hobbies?”

“Programming.” What about you? Levi had readied himself to ask in that long split second of silence that followed.

Hange though was quick to respond even before he could take control of the conversation. “Well aside from your actual job.”

“I like to clean,” Levi answered. He started to wonder how dorky that hobby sounded like. He needed to rephrase. “I meant--- organize things…” He added a second later. “Like Marie Kondo.”

“Oh yes, I’ve heard about her,” Hange said. She had at least allowed for a split second silence then, long enough for Levi to take the reins of the conversation.

Hange though was a high profile person, her partner was one of the richest men in the country and Levi’s mind was racing with hypotheticals. Was it okay to ask her about her hobbies? Her interests? Or was that supposed to be an exclusively professional meeting?

Soon, with all the questions nagging at him at once, he unearthed a question at the back of his mind that he had been meaning to ask since he had met Hange down at the lobby.

So how’s your husband?

Where’s your husband? Do you hang out with him often? Do you usually do stuff alone? A question that couldn’t so easily be answered by a single google search on an incognito window, only that night, he had tried searching keywords just to be sure.

Hange Zoe Zeke Jaeger Relationship

And soon after searching that just once. He had made sure to clear his browser history just in case he didn’t do it in some incognito window. After all, night mode and incognito mode had almost the same interface.

He soon found out though after jumbling around keywords over a search engine that Google wasn’t omnipotent as it turned out. The only one who could have satisfied his curiosity at that moment was the brunette next to him then.

He couldn’t bring himself to ask it just then though. So he went for another question, a very vanilla one but it seemed like a safe bet. “What about you?”

“What about me? What do you mean about me?”

Levi was starting to doubt the flow of the conversation of a while ago. Did he remember it correctly?

The elevator dinged like it was announcing some coming of a messiah. That had been more than enough to break the awkwardness of that exchange and Levi quickly slammed the open elevator door, just a little more loudly than usual. He gestured for Hange to go ahead.

“Hobbies,” Levi said as he met her outside the elevator.

“I like research,” Hange answered.

“Is that your full time job?” Levi asked. He didn’t need to ask. He had read more than enough articles of Zeke Jaeger’s partner to have seen ‘neuropsychologist’ used as an epithet enough to be convinced that that was her full time job. The last thing he wanted to do though was actually accidentally imply in a conversation that he had googled a few keywords for answers before clearing his browser history.

Hange nodded. “Yes it is.”

“Well… Hobbies aside from your actual job?” Levi asked. He kept his own word usage and his own phrasing similar to what Hange had used with him. If Hange asked it that way, that should have been a socially acceptable way to ask.

“I like plants,” Hange said firmly. She wasn’t looking at him. Although Levi had wanted to see the face she was making then, he started to realize that craning his neck to get a good view of her face might just look a little too weird.

So he settled for her side profile. From his view he could see eyes were everywhere at once from the hallways to the doorways just a little further away from the area that opened up as soon as they exited the elevator. “Where are we going?”

“Over here,” Levi said, he was quick to pull her towards the other side though, before she found out that he had taken a good few steps already in the wrong direction. “The conference room is over here…”

“We have a meeting?” Hange asked, her voice suddenly very tense.

“No, it’s nothing like that. I just thought it would be better that I reserved a room, so we could do some testing where we wouldn’t bother anyone.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “That’s good. I thought I was supposed to be preparing something.”

In those few minutes, he had made her wait, made her navigate some awkward conversation and made her panic. Then and there as he led her to the room, he was guessing what kind of dashing review she’d be giving Zeke about their first meet up.

More importantly, was he giving a great second impression? It was nine in the morning, too early for him to be confident that he was a fully functioning human being. Or so, that was what he repeated to himself then. He could make up for it after lunch.

Hange settled on one of the chairs nearest to the door. “Do we sit together?” She asked. The meeting room was designed for a maximum of ten people and for a good few seconds, he wondered if he should have gotten something much smaller.

Even before he had figured it out for himself, he was looking between sitting right next to her or towards the other side of the room. They weren’t married. Could he sit beside someone who was married?

But if he sat too far, he might not be able to hear her. He went for a very safe in between. He dropped his laptop bag on the seat next to her with some flourish, as if to say, he was married to his job and he was happy with that arrangement before sitting on the seat right next to his bag.

There was a bag between them, they were a safe distance away and Levi pulled his laptop out and booted it up. “I’m suspecting that the issue with your application might be the build. Can you redownload it for me?” He asked. The laptop had been a reminder at least that they were there for business. And business meant that they had a topic of conversation and he had practiced that script enough times to know, he probably didn’t sound like an idiot.

“Are we testing now?” Hange pulled her phone from her bag.

“Yes we are. Just download the app from the app store. I need to confirm that this isn't just your build in particular being faulty,” Levi brought out his own phone, deleted the application from the folder before redownloading it into his phone.

The ‘downloading’ message next to the love alarm application served some form of inspiration for conversation topics at least. “So, how does your husband like the app?” Levi asked. That line was straight from the basic customer service manual and he was very much sure that was acceptable territory for a professional conversation topic.

“Ahh Zeke? He loves the application. He told me himself, he sees potential in it too.”

Did he tell you over dinner? Over car rides? Somehow, Levi was picturing them over a happy dinner in their European style dining room in their very expensive penthouse apartment down town. He knew how it looked. He had seen it in one of the lifestyle articles he had googled just the night before. “That’s good,” Levi said, he felt that comment catch at his throat. He cleared his throat. “The bug... How does he feel about it?”

Hange’s face fell at that. Subtly at least, but with Levi had been staring at her for the past few seconds, it was very much noticeable as a split second movement. “Yeah, about that…”

“Did he say anything about it?”

“We did research on the application last night… And we were theorizing… so the heart could have been from him… and from someone else right? Someone else had their application open then. And he was saying it was you.” Hange’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “But I remember you said, it could be a bug right? And I’m sure you turned off your phone before we tested it…”

“And we’re testing again,” Levi said as he opened the newly downloaded application on his phone. “Log into your account.” He ordered, looking pointedly at Hange’s phone.

The biometrics were already in his account, all he needed was to log his fingerprints again. Levi took a glance at Hange’s phone laid out on the table.

She had gone through the log in process quickly. He turned the love alarm on and rested his chin on his hands and waited. Hange only needed a few seconds. Soon she had turned it on.

And within a second, her phone buzzed then his phone buzzed. It did wonders to shake the whole table then, enough for Levi to have to grit his teeth as the table shook sending a bolt of shivers up to his chin.

He could have sworn he felt blood rush to his face then. He quickly turned off the alarm. “It might be a problem with our phones. I”ll bring down some test devices and we can try this again. He avoided Hange’s gaze only brushing his hands on her shoulders long enough to make his point known. “Just wait here.”

Hange mumbled something with a seemingly obedient tone. Levi didn’t bother to guess. He quickly made his way out of the room, up the stairs--- he was in no mood to run into anyone in the elevator.

It had taken him roughly ten minutes to go back up to the office and come back down with a bag full of gadgets. He dropped the bag on the meeting table, maybe a little too loud and a little too roughly. “These are the most common gadgets used for testing the love alarm. They’ve all been factory reset so just set any one of them up and we try the application again.”

Hange seemed frozen with surprise, at the least she had managed a nod.

Setting up the device was a simple process and Hange didn’t ask too much about it. She had at least kept quiet through the whole ordeal and although it was second nature for Levi to set up a device, he made sure to keep his head down, his eyes intent, feigning deep concentration.

Or maybe he needed to concentrate. His hands were shaking just a little bit, his heart was racing.

He was sure he only needed to try it one different device, one commonly used model for both of their phones to rule out any problems with build or model. It was a decisive move.

And the climax of such a process came once again when Hange had motioned to click the love alarm again before looking up at him. Before they even met eyes, Levi clicked the on button on his end.

It was at the moment when the alarms rang in unison again did Hange avert her gaze. Levi bit his lip as he stared back at his phone.

One person nearby is in love with you.

He glanced up, at Hange’s phone. Although he couldn’t make out the words on it, the characteristic heart near the center was enough. She was getting the same heart.

He grabbed the phone from her. “It might be related to the model,” Levi said, Years of experience working with applications and phones were telling him, it wasn’t related. One working phone was more than enough proof. Looking at the watch at the end of the meeting room, he saw it was far from lunch time, he had at least ten devices in the bag. “Let’s try it on other phones… Just to be sure.”

***

“Levi, what if…”

“What if…” Levi nodding his head at Hange slowly, a subtle gesture for her to continue speaking.

For lunch, they had settled for one of the diner just along the wide shopping streets only a few minutes walk from the building.

An eventful few minutes walk. Levi had turned on his love alarm, put an earbud to one ear and listened to the alarm ring on repeat as he followed Hange through the streets. There were a few other notifications that popped up and left as he listened. But the ringing coming from that one heart which he had already surmised long ago, was from Hange’s heart had settled into even the cadence of his steps. It became an ubiquitous part of the short walk to the shopping street.

When they had settled in the diner though, Hange was quick to drop her phone in front of him and show him the history of her application. On her phone, there was one heart that remained steadfast through the whole ten minute walk as well.

At that moment, Hange pointed at it, then glanced quickly at Levi’s own phone. “What if… You are attracted to me. And I’m attracted to you? Because this love alarm, it doesn’t just check love right? It checks attractiveness. So if a passer by thinks you’re attractive, your alarm rings,” Hange said.

Levi leaned back on the diner behind him, picking at his fries with a fork. He couldn’t bring himself to eat one, just the results of their testing that morning had him losing his appetite. Consequently, he had ordered the burger meal at the front of the menu, something he was in no mood to eat.

“So maybe…” Hange said.

“Hange, we just met. During all the tests. I have never made anyone’s love alarm ring. Besides, I don’t think I’d be the type of guy to get attracted to someone at first glance. I don’t believe in love at first sight.” And someone who’s married at that. If Levi had something in his mouth then as that thought ran through his mind, he was sure he would have choked. He was more grateful than ever that he hadn’t started eating.

“But, we saw it already… The application was giving the same reading and when we were walking too… It never stopped ringing…” Hange explained. Still she looked like she was still finding the right words.

Levi understood her clearly though. “Hange, are you in love with me?”

Hange turned a bright red. “What? No, I'm married. Also, we just met and I don’t believe in love at first sight either”

“So do you believe there’s a bug?”

Hange nodded. “Maybe? Or maybe the data you put into the application was flawed. Maybe there are things that need to be improved.”

“That is a good point. So what do you suggest then Hange?”

“I’ll help you research. I pitched this application to Zeke because I wanted to try rolling something out similar to hospitals, psychiatric units. And if he invests maybe we could improve the application, work to make it more accurate?”

“That’s the plan. But he said so himself, he’s not going to invest in the application until the bug is fixed.”

“But what if it is working as expected… What if it’s just a matter of fixing the data?” Hange looked out the window, seeming deep in thought. Levi wondered if that last question had been for him or for herself.

“I can do further testing on this. Just to make sure,” Levi said. “The problem is… How are you gonna convince Zeke to invest in this?”

Hange sighed. “I guess it's going to be a question of timing. I'll catch him when he's in a good mood and--”

“Hange, are you willing to admit to your husband that you might just be attracted to some stranger?”

That shouldn't have been such a difficult thing. He had heard before of married couples who window shopped so Levi amended that question in his mind.

Are you willing to admit to your seemingly unhinged husband that you might just be attracted to some stranger?

***

Sometimes, the only way to find the bug is to break the application.

Levi and Hange got caught in the lunch time rush. But Hange wasn’t a typical worker, Levi wasn’t a typical eight to five employee either.

So Levi saw opportunity for a little test. “Open your love alarm,” he whispered. He put one earbud to his ear, motioning for Hange to do the same. He turned on the application once again, letting the shill ring grace his ears one again.

It was annoying at first, but over time, he had started to see it as an old friend. He was far from the denial stage already and he was already threading the lines of acceptance.

He was a developer. He had fucked up the coding and a bug had appeared. And that issue, it was a bug for sure, a bug he needed to investigate.

And any opportunity for data and evidence, was an opportunity he couldn’t waste.

“We walk through the lunch crowd,” Levi said. “Usually when I walk through, I get two to three rings. Sometimes more. There have been issues before that getting too many at once, sometimes the application would conceal all the hearts and the only way to get it to work again is to reset the application.”

“So what do we do?” Hange asked.

“Turn on your application and we walk through the crowds,” Levi repeated matter-of-factly.

The crowds around him though were disconcerting and he could understand how Hange would have needed some guidance then.

What did she know about testing? When Levi asked himself that question, he started to pick out another question too. What did he know about testing?

He was an engineer and he had been working with applications for years. He had experienced a lot about testing. But he had never experienced testing with a customer married to one of the biggest opportunities of a company and being accused of being in love with her by his own brain child.

He was treading unfamiliar grounds.

The ringing of the alarm was always unsettling at first. By the fifth ring, it always found a rhythm. Or maybe it was his own brain that found rhythm in it.

And he walked to that rhythm, he pushed past the crowds to that rhythm and every two to three rings, he would take a glance to see Hange beside him, her face had settled to some rhythm too. Sometimes, she would look back at him, other times she would look behind her, as if she suspected someone had set her alarm off.

But he had become part of her rhythm too. From his peripherals, he could see she snuck glances at him. Very quick glances that Levi had been perceptible, invested enough to notice.

They could have been walking for five minutes, or maybe even ten. Soon, Levi realized, the love alarm had embedded itself into the background noise, an annoying ring amid faint voices, conversations, public announcements.

It had only seemed loud once again when the street had opened up to an open space at the center.

In front of them was an empty park, and it usually was empty when the lunch crowds had made their way back to their offices. Levi had worked there long enough to know.

The chaos of the alarm had subsided into one noise. He turned to Hange to see that she was looking up at the sky then, one hand over her forehead, shading the view from the bright afternoon sun.

The light from the sun had done wonders to make her cheeks look a bright pink and for a second or so, Levi just stared, long enough for Hange to have noticed. Or maybe it was her plan to look to him eventually.

“Did it stop?” Levi asked as soon as he became aware of those hazel eyes on him. He averted his gaze and looked around the empty park. Nobody should be ringing his alarm. Nobody should be ringing her alarm. But them.

It should have been a win-win situation. If that had worked to break the application, Levi could have clocked that as the bug and investigated that instead. If it worked as expected, if the two applications continued to ring, then maybe it was working.

His alarm was still ringing. He did a thorough 360 of the park. No one was near enough to even meet the ten meter radius. Just to be sure though he turned to Hange. “Anyone around our ten meter radius?”

The park was empty save for one old man on a bench a good distance away, definitely more than ten meters. He hoped it had sounded like a redundant question.

Hange shook her head. “Nobody. But the application is still ringing.”

“Did it stop at all? During the walk?”

Once again, Hange shook her head.

Levi took a deep breath and dropped his shoulders back. “Erwin gave me a week to figure this out. I’ll do some of my own personal investigation after this.”

“Hey, I’ll do what I can too. I really want you to get those funds.” Hange took her hands in his and Levi had half the mind to pull away. If her hands weren’t so soft and maybe a little too warm even for a cool spring day.

Levi had been almost disappointed when Hange dropped his hand and turned back to her phone. Just ‘almost’ though. They just met, he couldn’t be too invested in hands.

So he thought back once again to backend work to the numbers that made up the love alarm. And he thought of Hange’s little suggestion. “You said something about flawed data right?”

***

“My plan is I’m gonna see if I can convince Zeke to take up that love alarm,” Hange said.

“No need to hurry. I have a week to get it working,” Levi muttered. He wasn’t looking at Hange then. His laptop was propped on his lap and he was looking through open support tickets.

They had a support team and being a developer, answering customer queries wasn’t his job. At that rate though, he was looking for anything to keep him busy. Zeke would be coming to pick up Hange and the last thing he wanted to be was free enough to stare at them.

“I have some books on love, I could send them over,” Hange suggested

Levi looked up from his laptop. The support ticket on ‘how to download the app’ was not very interesting after all and he found reason once again to stare at Hange’s bright hazel eyes. “Why would I need books about love?”

“You seem… inexperienced with love?” Hange started. She seemed unsure with that answer.

“Inexperienced with love?” Levi narrowed his eyes at her.

“Allergic to love,” Hange repeated. “so I thought it might help if you read on them.”

“Why would you care if I read them?”

“If we’re gonna work together to improve the accuracy of your alarm, I think you should learn. I’ll do my part too. I’ll learn a bit of coding.”

Levi shrugged. “Send them over then. I’ll look through them if I have time. First things first, I need to get a little more testing done.”

“They might be useful for testing. Or maybe they’ll be able to help you pick out which sensations in particular point to love.”

“I loaded the data. I would know,” Levi said.

Hange raised one eyebrow at him in playful suspicion. It had done some magic in helping Levi recall that all he remembered were the numbers and some hints about sweating, palpitations and some quickening paces. But machines had a tendency of learning more about the users over time.

“Maybe I’ll read one or two before bed," he added a second later.

“Great. Then I’ll do my homework too. I’ll see what I can get from Zeke. Hopefully I can convince him to invest, even with the bug.”

“You have my number---” Just update me. Before Levi could let those words out, he had fallen back into that support ticket about that one person not knowing how to download the application.

It was still a boring and stupid support ticket. But when Zeke had padded into the lobby like he owned the place with a butler in tow, Levi decided that the idiot of a ticket was still a better view than Zeke at that moment.

“Thank you for picking me up,” Hange said in an almost melodic tone, a tone that made Levi’s ears bleed.

“My meeting ended early and I don’t think we had a good dinner since last week. What did you have for lunch?”

“Burgers and fries.”

“Burgers and fries? Hange, I gave you more than enough money for a good meal." Zeke sounded mortified.

Levi froze. He had suggested the diner for its strategic location. He found himself running his right hand slowly over his wallet in his front pocket. He was sure he had the money for anything more expensive.

“It was good.”

“Well, I’ll make sure we get something better tonight. There’s a new restaurant, just outside town, they sell the pink fatty tuna and Kobe beef imported straight from Japan, same day shipping apparently so it’s definitely the freshest we can get here. What do you think?”

“That sounds great,” Hange said.

She had said it in such a tone, a tone she had never used with Levi before. Like she was tasting the food as she spoke of it. Of course she wouldn’t use it on you. You just met her. Levi thought to himself. As he willed himself to get back to his senses, he realized the ticket was still untouched. Although he had been staring at it since a while ago, he hadn’t made any progress at all.

He looked up at Hange then at Zeke. “Apologies for only taking her to a diner. Next time, I’ll make sure to take her somewhere a little…” Rich, expensive, snazzy, exclusive, snobby? Too many adjectives were running through his head then but Levi settled for something seemingly more professional, or as professional as he could go. “More your tastes.”

“That would be very much appreciated,” Zeke said. He took one of Levi’s hands in his, too suddenly and too forcefully that Levi had to smack his laptop to keep it balanced on his lap. “Thank you again for taking very good care of my Hange here.” He had slipped a hundred dollar bill in between Levi’s hands and maybe he had expected Levi to smile and say ‘thank you.’

And most days, Levi was polite enough to have mustered one but his ears were still ringing, not from hearing the love alarm non stop that day but from those last words Zeke had said.

My Hange.

Hange waved, motioning with her hands to ‘text soon,’ then she turned her back on him.

Levi couldn't’ even get a good view of Hange as she walked away. Soon enough, Zeke had wrapped one arm around her shoulders. From Levi's angle, he couldn’t tell whether Hange had pushed closer to him or Zeke was the one who pulled her closer.

For a second longer, he pondered it. Of course Zeke would pull her closer, that’s his Hange. Of course Hange would move closer to him, she’s his.

Levi looked back at the support ticket, he had opened again.

How to download application. Please help.

He closed his eyes and leaned back on the sofa. He closed all his open tabs before laying his eyes again on the empty draft.

Within seconds, he had closed that tab as well. There were larger issues then than a customer not being able to download an application.

***

Hange had sent books about love in a drive folder and she had emailed it to him. When Levi opened it, he was quick to figure out, they were all self help books

Scott Peck? He could have sworn he had heard that name somewhere and when he opened it, he found the book was hundreds of pages long. He didn’t have the attention span for that.

Maybe I’ll read one or two before bed. He had promised Hange that evening. But he didn’t actually have to read it right?

So instead, Levi googled the summary.

Genuine love is volitional rather than emotional. The person who truly loves does so because of a decision to love. This person has made a commitment to be loving whether or not the loving feeling is present. ...Conversely, it is not only possible but necessary for a loving person to avoid acting on feelings of love.

Levi was quick to close it after that. If that concept of love was real, that would defeat the whole purpose of the love alarm. The last thing he had wanted to do so late at night was invalidate his own brain child.

“Book one for the night. Done,” Levi whispered to himself as he opened the next book on file.

Before you love others, you must learn to love yourself.

“Cliche,” Levi said. But soon after reading it, he turned back to the application on his phone. He turned it on to see an empty blue screen void of hearts. There wouldn’t be hearts, he was alone in his apartment.

He thought back to Hange’s mention of flawed data. He thought back to the alarm that wouldn’t stop ringing. They had been testing it that whole day, there was nothing wrong with the application and the developer in Levi knew there weren't any glaring bugs.

But the testing would continue. He hadn’t completely tested all the scenarios after all. The alarm ringed with Hange but would it have alarmed with anybody else? His five years worth of experience testing the application told him 'no.'

Or maybe he just hadn’t been actively looking for the right people.

Even at night, the gears in his mind managed to turn and soon, he had a plan albeit a vague one. But the first few steps were clear at least. Levi navigated to his play store and typed a few words on the screen. A few minutes later, he was downloading an application with a familiar flame icon on the screen.

He took a deep breath. "This is part of the testing process," he muttered to himself. He was gonna be spending the whole night swiping.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

33 notes · View notes