#*swinging a coin back and forth in front of your eyes* You wanna ask me about this you wanna ask me you wanna ask me you wanna ask me you wa

[smiley-mcdoggington]

LET'S SEE HOW MUCH REVERSE AU I CAN TALK ABT BEFORE MY BREAK ENDS--

Stan n Ford are the same up until highschool, where Ford starts trying to be an individual a bit sooner so Stan takes a fuckton of extracurriculars so he doesn't have to be alone in that house

Stan is in theater, glee, boxing. You know where this is going.

Filbrick finds out and beats the fuckshit out of Stan for being queer, but Stan doesn't stop going because Fuck Him, Stan wants to perform

3 years later, Stan and Ford get called to the office, but Ford is the one in the hallway. Principal says that Stan is a savante and could be a movie star making millions some day. When Caryn asks about Ford he says "Ford will be fine", doesn't care, Ford's future has never been regarded so casually because he's supposed to be bigshot scientist.

Filbrick is suddenly a lot nicer with Stan, and when Ford's grades slip he gets a lot harsher with Ford.

CAME BACK

Stanley's future is centered around an agent at a talent show for which he wants to perform a song and dance number with Carla. It's Beyond the Sea by Bobby Darin. The lyrics haunt Stanford. He doesn't want to be left waiting for Stanley while he sails off on his own, and he certainly doesn't want to see the way Stanley holds Carla's waist when they practice in their shared bedroom.

Ford practiced the number with Stan a few times when Carla couldn't make it but Stan was antsy. He felt like a fool while Stan pulled him through the steps and crooned 'waiting for me' so sweetly in his ear. Ford doesn't want to have to wait for Stan. He never thought he would have to, but now Stan's going places while Ford thought he would always have Stan in his pocket.

Ford was responsible for bringing the record with that damn song on it. But Stan had left early, he hadn't woken Ford up, and Ford slept in. He'd asked, the day before, if he could use the El Diablo to get to school since Stan was riding with Ma in her car. Stan said "Hell, Sixer, if this gig goes off without a hitch, you can keep the car!" Ford sped in the car to the school to hopefully make it in time with the record. When he got there, Stan and Carla were already on stage, Stan's voice carrying the lyrics with no music, him and Carla dancing as if it made no difference. As if Ford's contribution made no difference. Stanley dipped Carla the way that always made him bump Ford's glasses, but it was so smooth with her. Ford left, drove Stanley's car to their boat, and waited for Stan to find him like he always did.

Stan is pissed because Ford was supposed to be there to support him for once. He goes to the boat and demands to know where the hell Ford was. Ford asked if it mattered. Stan said it mattered to him. It was the first thing that really mattered to him. It was the first thing he was good at, that he got recognized for all on his own, and he wanted Ford there to cheer him on like he always cheered on Ford's stupid mathletes competitions and his stupid science fairs and his stupid debate matches. He said he waited for Ford but Ford wasn't there. Ford snaps and says he won't wait for Stan while those damn lyrics circle his head.

Stan says that isn't fair. That Stan's always waiting for Ford. Ford says Stan stopped doing that the second he got a chance to be better than him. Stan said that wasn't fair, either. Stan says he's walking home, he needs to cool off.

Ford isn't back when he gets there. He isn't back the next morning either. He goes back to the boat and both Ford and the Stanleymobile are gone. Ford ran away.

Ford, determined to prove himself more than "just fine", takes shortcuts to get around the colleges he doesn't have the patience or the money for. He does reckless things, gets caught up in making drugs because it's just so easy and it gives him a lab space to work with so long as the product is received on time (plus Speed let's him work for longer without needing to sleep). He sees Stan on TV - that agent loved him, of course they did, and Stan was some bigshot with a ring on his finger and his name in the cast of so many shows and movies on shitty hotel cable that Ford wants to scream.

The first time Ford sees Stan in four years since he ran away, it's from behind bars. Ford had gotten arrested for some pretty scary shit, and he called Stan in a panic. Of course Stan came, and Stan was frustrated but he was so happy Ford reached out even if it was just because he wanted something. Stan pulled a few strings, used his silver tongue and his heavy wallet to convince the small-time cops it was a misunderstanding. In the car Stan said he missed Ford, and Ford said he did too. They spent some quality time in the back of "Ford's" car

Ford won't accept charity, he says he's not a money hungry letch like their parents are (who retired in Florida after Stan made his first decent role in a big box movie), he also refuses college on the principle of the matter because all the college kids he's interacted with acted like they were smarter than him when he Knows he's a genius he just needs to get some more materials - get someone to accept his papers and his patents when he has a record instead of a degree. If he can just Proove his science works then people will stop fucking questioning him (that proof is through wildly unethical means but it doesn't matter if the science works, does it?)

He only sees Stan when he calls Stan to bail him out. He built it up in his head as Stan owing him for ruining his life by taking all the attention for himself and leaving Ford neglected, but that excuse is fickle so be avoids him anytime else to try to not think too hard about it.

He met Fidds in jail because Fidds made a giant murder robot, Stan bailed him out too for being Ford's friend

Stan is starting to get tired of the routine - he has a daughter now, he doesn't want to explain to her why she can't see her uncle Ford because he's wanted in so many states, and he won't see Stan unless he wants his bail paid, his lawyer arranged and his dick wet for an afternoon.

Then Ford meets Bill, and suddenly he swears he'll get clean for Stan, could he please just have a stipend to get a house in some nowhere town so he can gather enough research to make a proper grant request? Stan thinks it's too good to be true, so he says yes on the condition he visits Ford every few weeks to check on him, make sure he's not on anything and that he's not doing anything so illegal he'll get a warrant in Oregon, too. Ford has never been so offended, but he takes the deal for the sake of his Muse.

The first few years are great, Ford is really passionate, even if he's always cagey around Stan because his Muse keeps telling him how Stan's looking for a reason to kick him out, take away the support, leave Ford drowning. Then Fidds is traumatized.

Ford and Bill fall out, Ford starts using again just to stay awake, to keep his body to himself. Bill made him terrified of Stan finding out he screwed up again - because isn't that all he's ever done, from the day he forgot that record when they were 17? Stan's visiting day is rapidly approaching and Ford's house is torn apart trying to keep Bill from hurting him. Ford can't be homeless now, not with everything going on. He can't ruin his relationship with Stan, not when Stan's the only one he has left. In a last ditch effort he sends Stan a postcard that says 'DON'T COME'. Stan never receives it.

The last few times Stan had brought his daughter (3-ish) with him on his visits because Fidds was great with her and Ford was always happy to see her (even if he hated that she was Stan's but not his). He brought her this time, too. He's immediately devistated when he sees how twitchy Ford is. How paranoid and violent. Stan leaves his daughter upstairs when he goes to the basement with Ford.

Ford's terrific plan - asking Stan to take this book and never visit again, drop the financial support if he needs to, just leave and never see Ford again - doesn't go well.

The fight happens - Stan gets burned and throws off his jacket to maybe keep the fibers from burning into his flesh (doesn't work), then gets pushed through the portal. Ford cries into Stan's jacket, goes upstairs to shoot himself but his niece is crying. He forgot she was there.

Ford isn't good with kids, he's even worse with kids that want to see their dad but don't understand when Ford says he's Gone. After a week of watching her cry herself sick he breaks, takes off his glasses, puts on Stan's jacket that still smells like him, and picks her up, telling her he's right here and she's okay in his still perfect Stan impression.

He steals Stan's identity to keep the house - but drops his career entirely. It doesnt matter, Stan made enough in his long and successful career that Ford doesn't need to work a day in his life (well he does but that's Bill-related) he also drops all of Stan's obligations - he never gives his parents financial support because he doesn't think of it (his parents die working minimum wage because they sold the pawn shop), he doesn't give Carla alimony or tell her where her daughter is, he never tells his niece he even has a twin.

Stan gets back by himself after 30 years of being a sexy space pirate and that 'you took my name what did you do to my house' moment in canon becomes "You took my daughter?!" because Ford left no room for Stan to return and his daughter didn't even know she was his, didn't even know he existed.

[byulsgrease]

for richer ⋆ I promise you

previous || masterlist || next

(~900 words, no cw's)

I'm mildly convinced arcades are a kid's gateway to casinos. Strangely dim lighting, flashing neon lights, the weirdly tacky patterned carpet floors sticky with who knows what. Sensory overload. That's what it is. And the classic token-ticket system. Although I guess nowadays there's just point cards to swipe— which one could argue is a gateway to mindlessly swiping a credit card, unwittingly wracking up all the debt one can for a temporary taste of instant gratification.

It was someone's birthday party, some kid in our 4th grade class. What respectable adult ever thought that letting an entire class-worth's of kids run rampant in an arcade was a good idea? Regardless, we were all given some pre-portioned share of tokens inside tacky arcade-branded plastic cups clutched in our grubby hands.

"Hey, wanna see something cool?" she asked eagerly, teeth glinting as they bit into her lower lip in eager anticipation. I nodded and let her lead the way, figured there was no point in resisting because she would've just tried to yank my arm off anyway. She started off decidedly on a path she seemed to know well, snaking through a bunch of games that all looked exactly the same to me. She abruptly stopped in front of a coin-pusher machine, the kind that everyone slots a couple tokens into, fruitlessly trying to time the oscillating chute with the deceptively large amount of tokens teetering on the edge.

"This is the cool thing?" Didn't bother to hide my unbelief. No way that she was gonna get more than a couple tickets out of this, if that.

"Yep, try it out," gloating as she fished a token from her own cup, holding it out to me between her fingers.

"You're wasting one not just on this machine, but on me?"

"Just do it!" she half-whined, impatient. I took the token with narrowed eyes, still dubious about what the big deal was.

But I obliged, watching the coin chute swing back and forth a couple times before poorly timing the insertion of the token. It rolled a short distance and fell flat, quickly absorbed by the mound of existing tokens and contributing absolutely nothing. Her laugh rang out over my shoulder. Should've known she was playing me.

"You... really suck at this."

"Speak for yourself, could you have done any better?!"

"Well, not on the actual game, no. But watch this." She reached over to slap her hand over the token return button. Big whoop, trying to get the token back? I didn't even see how that would be possible, seeing that it laid unmoving in the pile just behind the glass. I nearly opened my mouth to protest at how she needed to quit making random stuff up just to show off, until tickets started streaming out of the machine. Tickets that, in theory, were only supposed to come out if coins fell over the edge.

"What the hell?" Okay, obviously that's not what I said. But I’d like to imagine my younger self possessed the ability to be so colorfully terse.

She returned my exclamation with an open-mouthed grin, gesturing to her handiwork folding in on itself in a stack on the nasty carpet.

“Now we can get whatever prize we want.” She spoke proudly, enunciating every word like she'd become queen of the world (arcade?)

“You know you can buy literally all of the stuff they have behind the counter, right?”

“With what money, yours??"

"No, no. But imagine all the money that our classmate's parents spent on the tokens, and think about how many tokens it would take to win the game— like, I dunno, 1000? You could go out and buy anything on those shelves for probably half the price."

"But we didn't buy these tokens," Byul pointed out gloatingly. What a ground-breaking revelation. I'm sure my eyes rolled back as far as they could possibly go at that. How I don't have a detached retina by now is beyond me.

"That's... not the—" I started before I gave up, realizing she'd tuned me out with her eyes trained intensely on the malfunctioning machine, having concluded its ticket-spitting spree. She leaned over and plucked it up off the floor, the stack of tickets tight in her fist. It fed into the ticket counter smoothly, at the very least.

“You gonna get your share? 'Cause if not I'm taking yours and getting one of those huge prizes."

"Won't people ask where all these tickets came from?"

"Not if you play it cool and say we just got lucky," she countered with an upturned corner of her mouth, waving her hand in some kind of smoothing motion that looked decidedly uncool and not at all suspicious.

Next thing I knew she took hold of my wrist unprompted and slapped my palm onto the token return button.

"We can pool our tickets together! We'll be rich!!" exclaiming reassurances while continually pinning my hand to the not-so-shiny silver button, ticket flow resuming from the malfunctioning machine. I don't even remember what we ended up getting at the prize counter now, she's the one who took it home with her after... whatever it was. And how she knew about the hack, I still have no clue. Nothing stopping me from asking, I guess? Seems a little late for it now, though.

Now that I'm really thinking back on it, maybe childhood was more fun than I initially remembered.

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book Two: Sapphire (Ignis x Reader) Chapter III

The next morning, Gladio dragged Noctis out of bed so they could leave. Ignis finished dressing himself and looked around the motel room. He couldn't find Prompto or (Y/n). Having no doubt the boy had taken the spirit again, he walked out of the room. Scanning the area, he immediately found the two. What shocked him was Prompto's position. He was laying down on the ground on his stomach, his legs swinging back and forth. His camera was trained on the skvader as she laid down on the ground.

"C'mon, work with me here, (Y/n)!" Prompto begged. "How about you hide behind the motel and transform? And when you're ready, you can call me."

The spirit yawned, her nose wiggling slightly. She flopped down on her side with a faint grunt. Lowering his camera, Prompto nibbled on his bottom lip. "Okay, that was really adorable, but not what I was looking for."

"Prompto," Ignis called out, stepping off the porch of the motel. "You'll soil your clothes laying on the ground in such a manner."

"Aaand Mama Ignis has appeared," he sighed. Pushing himself off the ground, he held his camera close to his chest. "Morning to you too, Iggy."

(Y/n) shot up at hearing his name. She dashed over to the advisor and climbed up his body until she was situated on his left shoulder. She threw her long tail around his shoulders, nuzzling her body against the side of his neck. Once she was comfortable, she flopped down and allowed her hind legs to dangle from his shoulder.

Just then, Gladio and Noctis exit the motel room. Ignis glances at his other companions before deciding it was time to leave. "Let's see ourselves to Galdin, shall we?"

"Might as well," Noctis mumbled tiredly.

The group climbs into the Regalia and departs from Longwythe Rest Area. (Y/n) remained on Ignis' shoulder as he drove, enjoying the sensation of the wind blowing through her fur. She looked around as they passed through a ravine of sorts as the radio came to life. The station was broadcasting the news of the upcoming wedding between Noctis and Lunafreya. She could hear Gladio teasing the prince slightly when the broadcast ended, but tuned them out and continued to enjoy the scenery. It was her first time outside of the Crown City and she wanted to enjoy every second of it.

When Galdin Quay came into view from the highway, Prompto stood up in his seat in excitement. "Hey! I see the sea!"

"I "sea" it too," Noctis replied, eyes focused on the clear waters of the ocean.

"That's Galdin Quay," Ignis informed the group.

"Kinda wanna go for a dip," Gladio commented.

Noctis noticed the strange rock formation in the distance. "That a big mountain behind it?"

"No, it's an island," the strategist answered.

"Nobody goes to Galdin for an island, though," Prompto stated. "They go to kick back and get massages!"

"And savor the seafood. It's famously delicious."

"Sounds great," Noctis said.

"Somethin' to look forward to," the shield claimed.

(Y/n) couldn't tear her gaze away from the beautiful beaches of Galdin Quay. The water was clear and the sand was pure white. She already knew what she wanted to do, even though it would risk revealing her human form to Noctis, Gladio, and Prompto. She was going to relax on the beach and nothing was going to get in her way, not even Ignis.

Arriving at Galdin Quay, Ignis backed the Regalia up into a parking spot located by the gas pump. Everyone exited the vehicle and headed towards the Mother of Pearl. Walking across the lengthy boardwalk, they reach the entrance of the restaurant/hotel. A member of the staff greeted them, bowing politely with a hand over his chest. Their destination was the docks, which were located in the back.

They didn't make it far before two men approached them. The taller one had unkempt hair and was cladded in multiple layers of dark clothing. The other man had spiky black locks and wore a faded green jacket with a black t-shirt underneath. Below the waist he wore matching combat pants and black boots. Around his neck swayed the dog tags of what appeared to be his identification as a hunter.

The auburn-haired man was the first to speak. "I'm afraid you're out of luck."

"Are we?" Noctis asked, slightly bothered by the men's presences. He wanted them gone as soon as possible and he had no idea why.

"The boats bring you here."

"What about 'em?" Prompto wondered.

"You're not leaving anytime soon," the spiky-haired man answered. "Better get comfortable."

Gladio crosses his arms, glancing between the two strangers. "And what're your stories?"

"We're impatient travelers, ready to turn ship. The ceasefire's getting us nowhere," the auburn-haired man replied. He then gestures to his companion, who tosses a coin at Noctis.

Gladio snatches it out of the air before it can hit the prince. He examined the coin before looking back up at the strange men. "What's this? Some sort of souvenir?"

Prompto saw the coin and gaped. "They make those?"

Noctis also saw the coin and shook his head. "What? No."

"Consider it your allowance," the taller gentleman remarked with a small, unsettling smile.

"Yeah, and who's allowing us?" The shield scoffed.

He bowed slightly. "Men of no consequences." He then patted his companion on the shoulder. "Come, dear friend. Let us set off."

The spiky-haired man stood still as if her feet were nailed to the floor. He didn't budge as his emerald eyes dwelled on the skvader resting on Ignis' shoulder. Her sapphire eyes locked with his, earning a smirk from the stranger before turning to follow his friend.

"Yeah, right," Noctis sneered under his breath.

Prompto fiddled with his fingers in wonderment. "You believe what those guys said about the port being closed?"

"I'm skeptical, though I won't discount the possibility," Ignis replied.

"I say we go check it out for ourselves," Gladio said.

Walking through the Mother of Pearl, they pass by numerous of people who were enjoying what Galdin Quay had to offer. (Y/n) jumped off the strategist's shoulder and flew to the docks ahead of the boys. She sat near the edge of the docks and gazed out across the ocean. There were no boats in sight.

When she turned around, her eyes landed on a well-dressed young man who was sitting on one of the benches with his legs crossed. She realized he was staring at her with a wide-eyed expression. Carefully approaching him, she sat down a few inches from him. Her tail swished behind her as she squeaked at him, startling him.

The young man, having never met a guardian before, leant down and outstretched his hand to pet her. He was hesitant, but he pushed his fear aside when she stood up on her hind legs and nudged her head against his hand. "Well, aren't yous a friendly one."

(Y/n) looked away from the man when she heard Prompto groan out, "Aw, man. Not a ship in sight. What gives?"

The guardian turned around to see the boys were searching the docks for boats. The young man who was petting her stopped and addressed her companions. "According to my sources, the empire, giving strict orders not to let any vessels leave the docks of Altissia. Real shame if you were late to your own wedding-right, Prince Noctis? Name's Dino, by the way. Pleasure. The crown prince of Lucis, bounty hunting in his fancy car... Surely you didn't think it'd go unnoticed-at least not by this reporter? Lucky for you, this reporter has integrity. If you wanna remain incognito, I'll respect your wish...in exchange for a favor."

Noctis glared at him and kept himself from lashing out in anger at the man's threat. "What do you want?"

"Hey, I knew you'd come around!" Dino cheered. "Lemme see your map."

Reluctantly, the prince hands over the map. Dino pulls out a pen from his pocket and circles an area on the map. Putting the pen away, he handed the map back to Noctis. "Marked where you need to go on your map. All you gotta do is find me some rough gemstones-like this one. Do this, and your ship'll come in. Don't, and the papers'll run you outta town. Capisce?"

(Y/n) stared Dino down as the boys walked away. She didn't blink, which frightened him slightly. Although he was trying to hide his emotions behind a mask, she could tell from his silver gaze he would never truly blow Noctis' cover.

Satisfied with her analysis, she let out a final squeak before flying off to rejoin the others. She caught up with them just as they were stepping off the boardwalk. She wound up crash-landing on Noctis' head. She hung limply from his head with a faint huff. The prince tensed slightly when she collided with his head, but this wasn't the first time she's done so. He grabbed her small body and held her at eye level a few inches from his face. "Don't think I didn't see you with that reporter. You on his side now?"

Outstretching her front paws, (Y/n) made sure her sable claws were retracted before placing her paws on Noctis' cheeks. She squeaked, tapping her soft paws against his face lightly. A smile blossomed on the prince's face. He couldn't help but find her actions adorable. "Yeah, I know you would never betray us. You and Specs are attached at the hip."

The skvader climbed across Noctis' arm the moment he released her. She perched herself on his shoulder as he entered the backseat of the Regalia. Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto followed suit and it wasn't long before they left Galdin Quay to find what Dino requested.

Not far down the road, Ignis pulled the car over to the shoulder and parked. Everyone stepped out of the vehicle and followed Noctis up a stony path. They crossed over a rocky overhang that spanned across the road below. The prince, along with (Y/n) who was still on his shoulder, carefully examined the map before putting it away.

Eventually, they reach an outcrop where they find an enormous bird slumbering. It ruffled its feathers in its sleep, burying its beak against its puffed out chest. Prompto gasped at the sight of the immense beast. "Oh em gee. We're supposed to get near that thing?"

"Pipe down before you wake it up," Gladio hissed just above a whisper.

Crouching, Noctis took the lead and carefully maneuvered around the bird. The others were close behind him, eyes focused on the creature as they held their breath. (Y/n) flattened her small form against the prince's shoulder as they circled around the front of the bird. She could sense just how powerful it was due to its size alone.

Successfully making it past the zu, Noctis stalked over towards a mineral deposit. He grabbed one of the loose pieces of garnet stone and put it into his pocket. He glanced at (Y/n) from the corner of his eye once receiving a soft squeak in response to being able to find and secure what Dino wanted. "Better get it back to him," he whispered to her. She nodded her head in response.

Turning around, Noctis proceeded back the way they came. Ignis was by his side as they rounded around the zu. Unfortunately, the large bird was awoken by a seemingly unknown force. It unfurls its wings, flapping them as hard as it could and creating a powerful gust of wind. (Y/n) dug her claws into Noctis' jacket in a desperate attempt to keep herself from being blown away. Morosely, it wasn't enough. Her small body was sent sailing through the air as the zu took off.

Luckily, Ignis was close by and saw what happened. He snatched her body out of the air and held her close. He loosened his grip on her after the wind died down and the bird was out of sight. "Off it goes..."

Noctis inhaled deeply to calm his racing heart. "Oh, we made it out alive."

"Barely. I seriously thought we were at journey's end," Prompto whimpered.

"But that feat was fit for a king," Gladio commented.

"We've acquired what we came for. Time to return to Galdin," the advisor said. He released (Y/n) and watched her fly around without the fear of being blown away. She went ahead of the boys and returned to the Regalia.

Prompto had also been watching her until she vanished from sight. "You're not scared she'll fly off and never return, Iggy?"

"Not in the slightest," the tactician answered without hesitation. "The bond we share is unquestionable."

"In other words, you both like each other so much you stick together," Gladio smirked with a chuckle.

""Like" is not a plausible word to describe the bond between (Y/n) and I," Ignis corrected the shield. "What we share is far beyond "like"."

"Just saying how I see it."

The advisor's eyes narrowed at him. He wanted to question him, but he walked off before he could. With a sigh, he shook his head and followed after his friends.

During the car ride back to Galdin Quay, (Y/n) was in the backseat with Noctis and Gladio. Descending the windy road leading to their destination, she shoved her head into the prince's pocket, startling him. "H-Hey, (Y/n)!" Looking down, he saw her head pop out of his pocket with the fragment of garnet in her mouth. He wondered what she was going to do with it until he watched her fly out of the car and towards Galdin Quay. "Someone's impatient..."

The skvader was indeed impatient. She was eager to relax on the beach and that would only happen as soon as she could sneak away from the group and transform. She thought delivering the garnet to Dino herself would speed up the process. Why? She wasn't exactly sure.

Landing on the bench beside Dino, she placed the stone down and nudged it towards him with her nose. He picked it up, examining it closely to ensure it was what he asked for. A mix between a smirk and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Would yous look at that? Just what I asked for!" He immediately got to work creating his newest piece of jewelry. (Y/n) watched in amazement as he turned the small stone into a beautiful bracelet with what supplies he had with him. Once he was done, he admired his craftsmanship. "Gotta say, this is my best piece so far."

Just then, the boys arrived. Dino reveals his newest creation to them and handed it to Noctis. "Nice work, kid! Sorry for giving you such a hard time. I just had to get my hands on this, even if it meant blackmail. You understand, don't ya? Y'see, I'm a reporter by day, and an amateur jeweler by night. This elusive little beauty's gonna become a masterpiece. To make it up to you, I'll share a little scoop. That special coin you got-it commemorates the Oracle's ascension. That guy was tossing 'em out to everyone. Musta picked 'em up back in Niflheim. And speaking of freebies, here's one from me. Come back if you wanna buy more!"

Ignis eyed the fine piece of jewelry as Noctis accepted it from Dino. "I doubt a souvenir like that could make its way into the hands of an ordinary citizen."

"Well, it's our pocket change now," Prompto commented.

"As promised, I'm in the process of securing your ferry tickets right now. Told ya, I'm a man of integrity. Should be smooth sailing from here, so lemme know when you're ready to ship out," Dino stated.

The prince crossed his arms. "We've been ready."

"Guess I should've expected that," the reporter cackled. "The ship won't arrive 'til tomorrow! How 'bout you find a place to spend the night?"

Prompto glanced around at his friends. "Do we even have the money to spend the night?"

"We could always go camping instead," the brute spoke up.

"We do have the funds to secure a hotel room. Although, it will be the only one for a while until we procure more funds," Ignis explained.

"No way I'm camping if we can afford a hotel room," Noctis said. "You guys go do that. I'm gonna do some fishing."

"Can't let His Highness go alone," Gladio stated. "I'll go with you."

"Me too!" Prompto waves his hand in the air. "I wanna take pictures of the beach!"

"Then (Y/n) and I shall make arrangements," the advisor informed the others. Noctis, Gladio, and Prompto left the docks to head to the beach. Ignis and (Y/n) headed towards the rooms available inside the restaurant and paid 10,000 gil for one. They entered the large, beautiful room where the spirit changed forms. She sat on the edge of the bed for a few seconds before flopping down on her back. Her (h/c) locks fanned out across the sheets as she stared up at the ceiling.

"Feeling enervated?" Ignis questioned as he had been watching her.

"A little," she confessed. "Sleeping has been difficult to do ever since we left the city. Even napping is difficult."

"Something plagues your mind?" He inquired.

"Nothing like that, but..." The sapphire-eyed girl sat up. She placed her hands in her lap, staring at the floor. "I hear a voice in my sleep, and even sometimes when I'm awake. I've tried to push it aside as nothing, but something tells me I need to listen. Maybe I'm finally going crazy."

"Shall we investigate this voice?"

She shook her head. "No, don't worry about it." Standing up, she walked over to the windows, which made up one entire wall of the room. She admired the beautiful, glistening ocean for some time. She then focused on her reflection in the window. Alongside herself, she saw Ignis sitting down in one of the chairs. He was flipping through the book that held all his recipes. With a huff, she spun around. Her heels clacked against the floor as she walked towards the door.

Ignis looked up the moment she strolled past him. Looking over his shoulder, he called out to her. "(Y/n), where are you heading?"

"The beach. I've been dying to relax ever since we first came here. It'll also help me sort out my thoughts," the guardian replied.

"What of the others?"

"They won't know it's me." She opened the door. "I'll be back soon, Iggy."

Stepping out of the room, she closed the door behind her. Walking through the Mother of Pearl, she could already feel eyes on her as she sauntered by many people. She tried her best to ignore the stares, knowing not many people have seen a guardian due to their scarcity. She clamped a hand over the sapphire gemstone embedded in her chest. She held her breath and sped up her pace so she could reach the exit quicker.

(Y/n) exhaled heavily. She dropped her hand from her chest the moment she was walking across the long boardwalk. She thought she was in the clear, but her eyes widened when she saw Noctis, Gladio, and Prompto were already on their way back. She thought they would've been gone longer. Pushing her thoughts aside, she looked away from them and prayed to the Astrals they would simply stroll past her. However, her prayer went unanswered. The moment her eyes locked with Prompto's, her body tensed. She immediately looked away and continued walking. As she walked past the blonde, she did force herself to look back at him and offer a kind, shy smile.

What she didn't see was Prompto's wide-eyed expression. His jaw was unhinged, hanging in disbelief. He nearly dropped his camera because of the shock he was in. Gladio also took notice of (Y/n), not recognizing who she was. He crossed his arms with a smirk as his eyes watched her head to the beach. "Now there's a woman."

Wondering who his friends were staring at, Noctis looked at the guardian. Just by looking at her, he could feel a sense of familiarity but pushed it aside since he didn't recognize her. He looked away and saw Prompto and Gladio still had their eyes focused on her. "Why're you guys staring?"

"Dude, are you seriously that blind?" Prompto gasped. "We just came across another goddess! That's two in two days!"

"If you're so interested, go talk to her."

"M-Me?"

Gladio smacked him on the back. "Go for it, pipsqueak. If you fail, I'll take over."

"I'll try...."

Meanwhile on the beach, (Y/n) took her heels off and walked across the sand. She didn't mind the sand sticking to the bottom of her tights since she could easily brush it off later. She admired the lapping waves and the various fish swimming around. The salty breeze blew through her (h/c) locks, a sensation she came to enjoy. Even the sun's warmth against her skin felt different. She wasn't sure what it was about the beach that made the sensation different from anywhere else.

A few peaceful minutes ticked by before (Y/n)'s attention was drawn by a small 'click' and a flash. Looking to her left, she saw Prompto with his camera raised. Her eyes widened in surprise at seeing him. She could even see the faint blush on his cheeks, not sure if it was from the sun or embarrassment.

"I-I'm so sorry!" He quickly apologized. "I-I should've asked before taking your picture."

The guardian smiled, desperately trying to suppress her shyness. Morosely, she wasn't successful. "I-It's okay. Is, um...is there something I can help you with?"

The boy shook his head. "N-No, I just thought y-you were really beautiful and it's my job a-as a photographer to capture everything beautiful."

Her smile widened at his pure heart. "That's very sweet of you."

Prompto quickly looked away, his blush deepening. "S-Sorry to bother you."

Before she could reply, he stormed off. She watched him run all the way to the Mother of Pearl, blinking in surprise at how fast he was sprinting. She hadn't expected Prompto to say such a kind, sweet thing to her. Now it was going to be awkward when she would introduce herself to him and the others in the near future.

Sighing, she combed her slightly disheveled hair behind her ears. She closed her eyes for a few minutes, listening to the waves as they lapped against the white sand of the beach. Just like before, her blissful moment was cut short when sensing the presence of another. This time, she was all-too-familiar with the presence and knew who it was before even looking. "Come to join me, Iggy?" Turning her head, she met his emerald gaze. Unlike with Prompto, she didn't stutter. Ignis was the only person she wasn't shy around because of how long they'd been together.

"I have," the strategist answered. "Although under false pretenses."

(Y/n) looked off in the distance and saw Noctis, Prompto, and Gladio watching them closely from the parking lot. They were trying to hide themselves behind one of the vehicles parked. "Oh, no... Is this their plan?"

"More of Gladio's than Noct's or Prompto's."

She placed her heels in the sand. "Is this another bet to see if you can get a woman?" It wouldn't have been the first time the boys had forced Ignis to speak to a woman to see if he did have any charm.

He pinched in the bridge of his nose. "Indeed..."

(Y/n) reminisced in the many memories she's made with him. "Now that I think about it, you never did bring home anyone. I know you're really serious about your dedication to Noctis, but that doesn't mean you don't have time for your own life. Your happiness matters, too."

Ignis casted his gaze to the ocean. He already knew why he hadn't brought home anyone, not even during his high school years. While he had been occupied with juggling school and his duties to the Crown, he always found time for himself in order to keep his sanity in check. Unlike many people his age who were bringing home a special someone, he didn't have to go search for someone who captured his heart. The young woman beside him already captivated his heart without her knowing. He'd been infatuated with her for many years now, but he kept his true feelings bottled up. He was frightened she wouldn't want him in return and even if she did, he was worried he couldn't commit himself fully to the relationship being the advisor of the prince. He didn't want her to feel as if she came second because of his duties.

What Ignis didn't know was that she already felt second in his heart. Ever since formally becoming Noctis' advisor, she was no longer first in his world. She was placed on the back-burner, knowing her life wasn't as important as Noctis'. In her mind, she was disposable. The prince wasn't. Just like Ignis, (Y/n) kept her deepest emotions buried in the darkest corner of her heart. She admired his conviction to his position, not angered in the slightest when she was no longer the most important person to him.

"Ignis?" The guardian gently called out his name after a prolonged silence.

The advisor reconnected his gaze with hers. "Yes?"

"You will find your own happiness, won't you?"

"I will in due time. As should you, (Y/n)."

She didn't care about her own happiness, only his. Faking a convincing smile, she nodded. "I'm sure I will find that special someone soon." It was a bitter lie on her tongue. She clutched the hem of her dress, bunching up the fabric before releasing it. Bending down, she grabbed her heels. Her eyes drifted over to the other boys, smirking slightly when seeing their flabbergasted expressions. "I think we can safely assume you win this bet. Make sure Gladio pays his dues. I'll see you back in the hotel room." She went to walk past him, but stopped. She decided to add a little spice to the mix and kissed him on the cheek. With a prideful smirk, she glanced one last time towards the trio hiding behind a car. "That'll give them something to talk about."

Ignis watched (Y/n) as she slipped on her heels and left the beach. He placed a hand on his hip, remembering how soft her lips were against his cheek. She'd kiss him like that many times before, but this time it felt different. He wasn't sure why, though. From where he stood on the beach, he could hear Prompto's wails of disbelief. He could hear him complaining about how he was able to score a kiss on a cheek from the girl before she left. His own smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, but it never came to fruition. (Y/n) truly did stir up the pot with such a simple action. Now, he would have to spin a tale to prevent the others from figuring out who she truly was.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || Masterlist

[houndsofcerberus]

Apotheosis Chapter 1

Summary: techno left ages ago but now he has to come back for what he left behind, whether he’s prepared to do so or not

CW: minor character death, talk of murder, brief mention of animal death

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33386038/chapters/82924549

Technoblade was known for many things, mainly being a strategist. He’d done a lot in his life, and many of the more memorable things happened in his teens, his early twenties. He had shown a proficiency with weapons and with strategy, proving himself capable of changing plans and coming up with things on the fly, his reaction time was unparalleled. He started as a ranch hand, mostly just tasked with keeping predators off the livestock and robbers off the property, but quickly was enlisted to track outlaws, and then several less legal and more unsavoury jobs that may or may not have included an assassination. Then came more legal jobs, a desperate plea from several farmers, a bar or two, and a king for training of guards and reinforcing protective measures. But what he hadn’t ever been known for is family. He wasn’t a family man by any stretch of the imagination. His work had him travelling constantly, changing appearance, living out of a tiny cart on the back of his two horses. His only constant companions were his horses and an old ranch dog given as a gift of thanks as a puppy. Them and his books. He collected the novels whenever he was in a new location, making the rounds of book stores and copywriters for obscure novels nobody else seemed to want. He was a man with no attachments except for the books in the cart, the dog at his heel, the horses he cared for, and of course the weapons on his back. One was a longsword he’d gotten custom made with his first large pay-out as a replacement for his old sword, and one was a whip he’d owned since his first day on the ranch. He had no other commitments than the ones he chose. Or at least he used to, until he’d received the letter. In a panic he’d hurried back to the small town surrounded by fertile farming fields where he’d first started to earn his reputation as a ruthless and brilliant warrior.

The town where he’d left behind a kind woman and a blond child. It would forever be his greatest shame, he’d ruined her reputation and her life in the pursuit of his own, and he had been sending coin back to them regularly, hoping that contribution was enough, and refusing to show his face in town again. However he needed to come back now and face those he’d abandoned. The kind woman was sick, in the letter she had told him she wasn’t going to make it and he needed to come and see her before she passed. He hoped it was in time. He’d left his cart hidden away in the forest nearby, one of his horses grazing and his dog guarding the goods on the cart. He rode atop the other horse, a brisk trot through the town, weaving between people and horses alike, looking between the letter and the houses until he found it. He quickly hopped off the horse, dropping the reins to ‘tie’ the horse. He’d taught them both well, he knew his animals wouldn’t wander far.

He ran into the house and was immediately greeted by the stench of sickness, of death. He struggled not to cover his nose at the familiar smell. It was much worse than the smell of blood in his opinion. This was harder to describe, it smelled like rot, like decay. He saw her shortly after he caught the scent, laying in a bed in the main room. Beside her was a young woman wringing out a cloth in a bucket of water and gently patting the sweat from her forehead and blood from her mouth, and beside the young woman was a boy, hair a bright gold colour. They all turned to look at him and he immediately felt every ounce of guilt he’d ever held for leaving, come rushing forth at once, averting his eyes.

“Can you take Toms outside and give us a moment?” the woman on the bed asked, voice raspy and weak. The young lady nodded and stood, placing the cloth back into the water bucket beside the bed and leading the small boy by his hand through the doorway nearby, closing it behind them. “You look well,” the woman rasped, smiling weakly at Techno as he approached, kneeling at her side.

“Thank you…” he was about to say she did as well but he wasn’t one to lie. She was pale, sweaty, and the smell of death clung to her like a cloak. “Your letter, it said you needed to speak with me,” Techno said after an uncomfortable moment of silence.

“Yes. I’m dying, we all know I am.” She began, before coughing harshly. “I need you to do me a favour, and promise me something.”

“Anything. Gods know I owe you,” Techno replied, smiling as she laughed weakly.

“You do. You owe Theseus too. That’s the young boy, he’s your son,”

“I assumed so.”

“I need you-” she paused, coughing harshly once more, blood spilling over her lips grotesquely. Techno quickly pulled out his handkerchief, wiping the blood away carefully. She quietly thanked him, wheezing in a large breath before continuing. “I need you to take Theseus with you. I need you to be a father.” She finished weakly.

She didn’t last the night. The next morning the coroner came and took her body, giving his condolences, and Theseus cried as though the world was ending, though to him it was. All he’d ever known was his mother. Technoblade had to pull him from the house reluctantly, promising he would be okay and bribing him with promises of sweets and flowers. The child agreed, allowing Techno to pull him up and place him at the front of the saddle. Techno rode the horse out of town, silent the whole way. It felt awkward. He didn’t know this child nor was he known for being good with them, in fact children notoriously hated him vehemently. His arrival was often followed by crying and hiding behind their parents. Techno watched the small golden haired child look around inquisitively, patting the horse beneath him and gently braiding his mane with his tiny dexterous fingers.

They arrived at the wagon, Technoblade’s dog greeting them happily, and the other horse barely looking up from his grazing. Techno hopped down off the horse, waiting for the child to hop down.

“Come along now,” he said impatiently after a moment. The child looked shocked, looking between Technoblade, and the ground.

“It’s too high,” he said, clinging to the horse. The horse shifted and a screech fell from the child, confusing Techno. He had been fine just moments before. Why was this different? Why was he suddenly terrified? Techno shook his head and sighed, already irritated by the kid’s presence.

“You’ll be fine, swing your right leg over the horse’s back.” Techno said, trying to keep calm. The child hesitated before following his directions, swinging his leg over the horse’s back so he was sitting facing Techno. “Alright, now slide forward,” He instructed.

“What if I fall?”

“Then you’ve succeeded.”

“I don’t wanna get hurt.”

“You won’t, it’s not high enough to get hurt. You’ll land on your feet, now slide.” Techno said, concealing his exasperated sigh poorly. The child once again looked at him incredulously before deciding to listen. He slid forwards, and although it wasn’t graceful he was off the horse. He fell back onto his butt in the dirt and for a dreaded moment Techno thought he was gonna cry again. However Theseus looked at his hands, covered in dirt and small pebbles and laughed, standing up on his own and wiping his hands on his pants without care before patting the horse’s leg.

“That was fun!” he exclaimed, grinning ear to ear, eyes wide and bright.

“Lovely. Go sit with the dog in the wagon whilst I prepare. Don’t touch anything.” Techno replied gruffly. Theseus looked over at the dog, large and grey, looking more wolf than puppy, and grimaced, but listened. He clambered up to the seat in the front of the small wagon. Techno turned back to the horse and made quick work of getting the saddle and riding bridle and reins off him, quickly brushing him down. He checked their feet, making sure they hadn’t collected any rocks in their hooves, before grabbing the other and leading it into position in front of the wagon, alongside the tongue. Techno hitched the horse to the wagon, taking care with the tack and making sure everything was properly adjusted and settled before moving on to the next horse, and doing the same. He also pulled the new sleeping bag for Theseus out of the saddlebags and the rest of his few things, lifting the cloth covering of the wagon and placing them in haphazardly. He would organize later.

He hopped onto the wagon bench, his dog taking the cue to hop down and wait as Techno gathered the reins and yelled a firm “Get up!”. The horses started at a walk as Techno directed them to the dirt road, before starting off at a brisk trot, Techno relaxing and settled back with a sigh. He glanced over as he felt eyes on him.

“What?” he asked sharply, exasperated.

“What does ‘get up’ mean?” Theseus asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

“Go.”

“Why isn’t the doggie on the wagon?” He asked after another moment, looking at the dog trotting alongside the wagon.

“He has a job to do.” Techno replied flatly.

“What kind?”

“He keeps the horses safe from stuff on the ground.” Techno answered, shrugging.

“That's really cool! Do they have names?”

“Who?”

“The horses! And the dog!”

“No.” Techno replied. He hadn’t bothered to name them, didn’t care to. He adored them all the same but he just hadn’t devoted any time or energy to naming them. He knew it was likely they wouldn’t be with him for all that long, the four of them lived a dangerous life, he wasn’t about to get overly attached.

“Why not?” Theseus asked, frowning and looking at the horses.

“They just don’t.” Techno glanced at Theseus once more, and the child closed his mouth, looking as though he were trying to think of something. Techno shrugged and watched the road ahead. He had decided to travel to his mailbox, a town or so away. He could check for any new jobs there, and then if there was nothing there he could just go travelling, try to find some work. Part of him was tempted to drop Theseus off at an orphanage or just with some kind couple or something. He didn’t know anything about raising children. He couldn’t imagine changing his whole life for this tiny fragile looking human. He knew damn well how easily an attachment to this child could be exploited against him. Hell, he wasn’t proud but he had done it himself before. But in the back of his mind the kind woman’s voice rang. He owed her, owed the young boy beside him. He promised. He was a man of his word. He was corrupt in many ways, more ways than he was proud of. He’d taken jobs he wasn’t thrilled to admit to, but he always, always kept a promise. No matter what. It was his singular redeeming quality and he wasn’t about to forfeit his last piece of humanity so easily.

The ride wasn’t easy nor was it short, though not for the usual reasons. Theseus was a bright and loud child, and though he had just lost his mother he seemed keen to keep talking and humming, Techno couldn’t fathom why. He didn’t understand how this child could be so chipper after his world had been shattered and forced him to rebuild at such a young age. He had seen many children learn they had become orphans, inconsolable, blubbering away as though their tiny hearts wouldn’t beat without their parents. And yet here was this small golden haired child, talking away as though he hadn’t a care in the world, pointing at various flora and fauna and asking all kinds of questions. They rolled into town, Theseus still talking on and on as the wagon rolled through the streets. Techno halted the wagon outside a building, it was large and centre of the town, people coming and going, a large aviary tacked onto the side. Techno hopped down and gestured for Theseus to follow suit, the young child managing to land on his feet this time instead of falling over once more.

“Don’t speak with anyone here,” Techno warned.

“Why?”

“Bad people look to take advantage of others here,” Techno replied curtly. “They will rob or kidnap you. Stick by my side, okay?”

“Alright,” Theseus agreed, nodding and trailing behind as Techno went in. They were only there for a moment, Techno getting the man behind the counter to retrieve his mail, procuring a few rolls of paper. Techno turned around and looked down for the child and he wasn’t there. Techno felt his heart stop. The unfamiliar sensation of all consuming panic washed over him, choking him almost. He whipped around, looking for him, vision tunnelling and heart rate rising. He looked to the clerk behind the counter and asked if he saw the child he’d come in with, and the man oh so helpfully shrugged in response.Techno swore and asked the man to keep an eye out for a blond child wandering around, and ran outside. He checked the wagon, only to find the dog sat on the bench. No Theseus to be seen. He shoved the scrolls into his pocket, running down the street, looking for the child, and finding nothing that would lead him to Theseus. A woman walked over, looking concerned.

“What are you looking for sir?” She asked, frowning, basket on her arm.

“A kid, he’s short, blond, blue eyes. I was in the post office, he was with me and now he’s gone,” Techno said quickly, breathing heavily.

“Your son is missing?” she asked, alarmed, looking around. “I’ll help you look,” she said quickly, sympathy shining in her eyes.

“He’s not my son, I just need to find him, I promised his mother” He said reflexively. The woman gave him a strange look but nodded, and left to help him search. Techno ran around the building, looking for something, anything. The longer it took the more panic consumed Techno, the harder it got to breathe, the faster his heart pounded against his ribs. He felt an unfamiliar weak shakiness in his hands. He saw a man and the woman from before approach, and almost decked the man out of habit but paused.

“You’re missing your child right? I think I know where he went, check the aviary, I saw a child run in there a while ago,” the man said quickly. Techno nodded and ran over to the aviary, the pungent smell hitting his nose. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Theseus there, looking at the pigeons.

“There you are.” Techno said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Why did you leave, I told you to stick close.” He said, tone sharp and harsh. He felt like he could breathe again though finally, the block in his lungs disappearing and his heart steadying now that Theseus was safe.

“I wanted to see the birds, I’ve never seen a pigeon up close,” He said hastily. Techno almost bit his head off, but when he opened his mouth no words came out, fury rising in his chest, overtaking the heart-stopping panic. He pointed and inhaled, but once more no noise came out. He shook his head, huffing and gesturing for the child to follow, which he did, albeit looking terrified of Techno. Theseus climbed up into the wagon, Techno following, scrolls pulled from his pockets, crumpled and edges torn. Techno handed them to Theseus.

“Hold these.” he said firmly. He whistled sharply and the dog hopped off the wagon and walked beside them as the wagon turned around and they headed out of town. Once off the main roads in town Techno grabbed one of the scrolls at random and read it quietly, before grabbing another. He read them all, and half of them were small jobs. A bounty here or there, one was much more dangerous so he ruled it out. Some of the others were a job that would last a bit longer, a training job, but the last one caught his eye. Techno had travelled for many years, and met many people. One had been of renown and he had stuck with him for about a year, helping them out. He considered them a close friend, an ally. She had reached out and was offering a position as a strategist, earning a great amount of pay, residence in the castle, and food provided. Techno smiled fondly at the elaborate signature, as flashy as ever and shook his head. It was decided, they would go there. He couldn’t refuse his old friend, and especially not for something this steady and well paying. He would be set for a while, and wouldn’t have to worry about shuttling Theseus around with him either.

“Alright kid, we’re heading to Nimius, I have a job there.” Techno said, sighing and settling back, folding the letter and tucking it into his shirt. “Settle in, it’ll be a long trip.” He added. Theseus nodded, and looked at Techno, before copying his exact posture. Techno looked over, confused for a moment, but shrugged and watched forward, making sure the horses were on the right track.

The journey was indeed long, they needed to set up camp that night. Techno put up the wagon’s cover, revealing that there was a bedroll settled in the wagon bed already, room on one side for a box full of books and other odd trinkets. Techno helped Tommy up into the wagon bed, showing him how to set up the bedroll beside his own.

“Alright, stay in my view, I gotta feed and water the horses,” Techno said, hopping off the wagon. They had settled by a river, and Techno unhitched the horses, leading both with their driving reins to the riverside before taking the bridles and reins off of them, allowing them to rest and do as they pleased. The dog had wandered off to hunt for a meal. Techno did often feed the dog, but the dog also occasionally preferred to go after the game it had spotted. Techno grabbed some of the spare hay out of the feed chest on the back of the wagon, spreading some on the ground for the horses to eat along with the lush leaves and grass around them. He walked back to the wagon to see Theseus sitting, looking through the box. The child saw him and jumped back, pretending he hadn’t been rifling through the various things in there. Techno smiled slightly and hopped into the wagon bed, looking on the other side of his bedroll and grabbing out some cured meat and bread, handing half to Theseus.

“It’s not a hot meal but its food. This work for now kid?” Techno asked. Theseus had already started shoving the food in his mouth, nodding.

“Yah,” Theseus replied, mouth full of bread. He was grinning happily as he tore into the bread. Techno looked at the box of his books, quickly seeing if anything was missing that he could see easily. Everything was fine and there was nothing missing from the box that he could see right away, but he’d check again. They ate in relative silence, the dog coming back and tearing into a rabbit a few feet away before going to drink water from the river and lay near the horses, watching them intently. All that was left soon was the sound of crickets chirping loudly beside the river, and the quiet noise of chewing. The sun set faster than expected and soon they were sitting in the dark under the light of a single candle Techno had lit for them. Theseus was yawning quietly, eyes half closed.

“Bed time I think, what do you think?” Techno asked, stretching. The question was rhetorical, Theseus would be going to bed. Theseus nodded, crawling into his bedroll, stretching and grabbing onto his pillow. Techno grabbed a book from his pile, leaning back against the wooden boards of the wagon, lounging comfortably while he read, absorbed in his book. He basked in this small luxury he afforded himself. He read in the flickering candle light for a few moments before he heard a sniffling noise. He paused and frowned, looking to his dog, seeing if he had perked up or sensed anything wrong, but the dog laid in the dirt happily, already asleep. Techno’s frown deepened and he turned. His dog had never failed him yet. There was no reason for him to be wrong now. It dawned on him that it was the child beside him sniffling, no doubt crying. It made sense, his mother had just died and the poor thing hadn’t had a moment to process it much at all. Technoblade reached his hand out to the sniffling bundle of covers to comfort the child. He wasn’t good with kids by any stretch, but he didn’t want the poor thing to suffer alone. He just lost his mother, and was pawned off onto an incapable father. He wanted to try to be better at least.

“Choke the little whelp,” hissed a loud voice, hoarse as though it were sick or choking on smoke.

“Snuff it’s breath out.” Another cheered. Techno swore silently, laying down and covering his ears in a futile attempt to block it out.

“Spill it’s blood.”

“Pathetic little thing.”

“It’ll only attract trouble.”

“Just like those puppies.”

“Deformed.”

“Useless.”

“Loud.” They were triggering one another out, a faint chorus calling for blood in the background.

“You haven’t fed us in ages. They’re right, snuff this poor whelp’s breath out. It’ll never survive. Don’t get attached now when it’ll just die soon anyways. Better to cut the dead weight Technoblade, right? You’ve never had issue doing so before.” A more distinct voice rose, louder than all the others. Techno sighed in frustration and sat up, hopping out of the cart, muttering to Theseus to stay put and walking to the river, past the horses and his dog. The dog rose and trotted beside him as he knelt and splashed his face with water. The light the moon cast on the river was rippling and he jumped as he saw something on the other bank.

“Fuck,” he muttered, looking up to see an army of familiar faces staring at him, some with empty eye sockets, eyes having long since rotted from their heads.

“Do it. His life is no more sacred than ours Blade. Go on, kill another, add to our numbers.” Said the one in the front, his corpse seemingly perfectly preserved. “You owe me what I want, remember? I’m the only reason you’re who you are.”

“Shut up!” Techno yelled, frustrated and overwhelmed by the stench of rotting corpses in front of him. “I’m not going to. Stop begging for scraps, you’ll have your fill soon.” Techno snapped, standing. “You may have helped me get this far but remember who I am, don’t get so cocky yet. You’re still dead and I’m here, alive.” Techno said, turning.

“Oh we’ll have him eventually Technoblade. One way or another.” The corpse said. When Techno whirled around the army had disappeared and he was alone, his dog staring at him.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m not crazy I swear,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Y’wanna go on a walk?” He asked after a moment, sighing and smiling fondly as the dog wagged it's tail and ran ahead before looking back at him expectantly. Another sleepless night it was.

[operationcavill]

Untangled - Part 5

She crosses her arms, “If you don’t text me later, I’m gonna tell mom about Nick McDonald!”

Y/N gasps, “You wouldn’t,”

Henry peeks around the corner, he has to hear this. “Oh, I would,” Her sister notices him spying and she points, “excuse me, Clark.”

Inspired by: Butterflies // Kacey Musgraves

Y/N - Your name

S/N - Sisters name

B/I/L - Brother-in-Law

B/N - Brothers Name

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

⭐️This chapter contains sexual content. Please do not read if you are not a fan of explicit material.

“The power went out last night and my phone died! I am fine!” Henry wakes with a start and pulls on his boxers, darting out of the bedroom only to be completely embarrassed.

“Oh my god!” Her sister shouts at him with shocked eyes. Not only does she give him the up and down, but looks back and forth multiple times between the pair.

Y/N offers him a sheepish smile before turning toward her sister, “Ok, bye. You can go now,” She shoves her toward the door but her small sibling pushes back, “Do not…why are you so fucking strong!”

Not being aware of her terrible whispering skills, her sister says, “Superman is in his God Damn underwear in your apartment!”

“I know who he is, [sisters nickname]. Can we talk later?”

“I said you should get out there, not toss him a fucking coin, I have questions!”

“Ok, that was a good one,” they laugh but quickly get back to arguing, “but could you be more of an asshole right now? We have to talk later.”

She crosses her arms, “If you don’t text me later, I’m gonna tell mom about Nick McDonald!”

Y/N gasps, “You wouldn’t,”

Henry peeks around the corner, he has to hear this. “Oh, I would,” Her sister notices him spying and she points, “excuse me, Clark.”

“Stop it, S/N,” He can tell that Y/N is filled with embarrassment, “you need to go.” Her sister leaves the apartment with one last look at her little sister.

“Good Morning,” He strolls over to her and kisses her, “she seems like a handful.” He tugs at her robe, “This the famous robe?”

She nods, “I’m so sorry. She can kinda be an asshole. She has a key and she kinda thought you murdered me or something.” Her hands come up to his chest, “Apparently, sleeping with you was much worse.”

Henry gives a fake sniffle, “Well, I can’t say that doesn’t hurt.”

“Don’t worry about it, and she doesn’t tell our mother anything at all.”

“Who’s Nick McDonald?”

She stops in her tracks, “That is strictly confidential.”

Oh, this could be fun, “And here I thought you were a good girl.”

She pokes his foot with her own, “And I’m not a good girl anymore?” She puts on her best fake pout.

“That depends,” He is dangerously close to her face, “What’d ya do?”

Y/N knows her whole body is flushed by now and she doesn’t know if she can keep up with this kind of game, “Don’t worry about it.”

He wiggles his eyebrows, “That scandalous, huh?”

“You’re not gonna drop it?” he shakes his head, “I snuck him into my parents basement the summer after I graduated high school,” His brow pulls together and he purses his lips.

That’s definitely juicy gossip, but not blackmail gossip, “And? That can’t be all.”

A big exhale escapes her, “You’re not gonna let it go, are you?” he shakes his head, “Fine,” She confesses in a very low, quiet voice.

“Speak up, Love” He turns his ear to face, hoping he heard her correctly.

Her chest flushes, “I said he ate me out and he came in his pants.”

Henry gasps,”You absolute minx!”

“We were just horny kids!”

Henry’s mind fills with thoughts of how badly he’d want a girl like that when he was young; a playful, giggly girl who’d sneak him into her house and use him. That’s a boys dream come true, ”But you were such a good girl that he came without you even touching him,” She blushes hard and her whole body tingles, “do you think it was how good that sweet cunt of yours tasted or the excitement of getting caught?” She can’t find words, she can only lick her lips, “Good girls always taste like heaven,”

She could lose it at any moment, “I swear you’re not a real person, she chuckles under her breath, “It’s stupid.”

He gives her a small kiss on her nose, “Stupid hard.” His demeanor going from hyper sexual to super goofy only proves her point.

He notices the time on the stove, “Oh, we didn’t sleep long at all.”

She starts to give him small pecks, “I’m afraid not.”

“It’s only 8:13, and it’s Saturday,” He feels a soft sucking on his shoulder, “and it’s still all rainy.”

His eyes involuntarily close at the sensation, “Oh no, how tragic,”

His boxers are not doing very little to hide how much he wants Y/N right now, “I know. Isn’t it awful?"

He kisses her forehead and notices that her hair smells like sugar and flowers, “Did I tell you good morning?” He lifts her chin and gives her a simple kiss. He kisses her again, not giving a single care about morning breath. He pushes her against the counter, then has her jump up. “How many good mornings are too many?”

“Let’s find out.” Her legs wrap around his waist, while his hand opens her robe. He tickles her stomach and she laughs , “No!” His fingers descend further, finding her clit in no time, “You really know how to start the day, huh?”

He gives her one Henry kiss before kneeling down when the door swings open, causing them both to jump. “Hey, did I forget—Jesus!”

Henry grabs a box of cereal and awkwardly smiles as he places the box in front of himself, “Just, um, making breakfast, most important meal of the day.” Y/N slaps his stomach without even thinking, “Hmph. Sorry.”

She looks like she could start crying at any moment, but also punch her own sister in the face at the same time, “Why don’t you knock?” He can’t tell if he’s just super horny or if her shouting has further turned him on.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m just, I uh, thought I left my phone.” She grabs her phone off the counter, trying not to look anywhere but the floor. “Nicholas McDonald!” She practically runs out of the apartment.

Y/N looks at him and lets out a snort, “She’s probably screaming in the elevator right now.”

“She almost got quite the show.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm, you ok?” His voice is sensual, deep, but sickeningly sweet.

“Yeah, but she’s never going to forget about this.”

“I’m never gonna stop thinking about it.” Henry kisses her collarbone, “Won't forget this,” he kisses her chest, “certainly not these,” An extra soft kiss lands right above her belly button where she’s ticklish, “or that laugh,” he reaches his intended destination and gently licks her, “or how fucking good you taste.”

Her legs widen in pleasure, “Oh my god.” Her left hand pulls at his messy hair. His hands slip behind her bottom, pushing her further into his face, “Fuck!” She swears she can almost fell him smile against her. He’s much more hurried than he was last night, even more passionate and Y/N never thought of herself as a screamer but she swears she can feel a loud cry bubble up in her chest.

Henry very briefly breaks away just so he can listen to her but connects the second he senses her frustration. Both hands now connect to the back of his head, only egging him on further. He sucks harder and he groans with the tightening grip on his hair. She’s going to come, she’s going to come hard on this counter and it still won’t be enough. He can’t help it, something about her makes him insatiable. Her thighs snap around his head, leaving him in a cloud of pride. He rises as he wipes his mouth, “Good morning.”

Y/N almost lunges at him, backing him into a chair and hastily straddling him. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”

“Me?” Y/N’s robe is peeled from her body and thrown god knows where, “How could you say such a thing?”

Her head rolls back, inviting him to nibble and suck on her nipples. “Because...”

He stops, snaking a hand behind her neck so he can see her face, “Because why, sweetheart?” She whines and trembles at his gentle yet dominant gesture, “Answer me.”  

“Because you feel too good.”

“Poor thing,” he pulls her face to his, “it must be so exhausting coming so hard.” His hand on the nape of her neck roams upward and tangles in her hair, “Maybe we should get back to bed,” their eyes are deadlocked.

“Or I can return the favor right here,” Y/N gives him a smirk, as she slides down to the floor.

Henry watches as she rubs her cheek on his thigh all while looking at him right in the eye, “You’re going to kill me.” No one should look so cute while doing something so dirty. She pulls him out of his underwear, stroking him, and not daring to look away from his face. She doesn’t break eye contact until she puts him in her mouth. Even then, she manages to look at times. She lets him go to get some air but stops her before she can continue, “Bed.”

After another round of moaning and groaning, and wobbly legs, they indeed did earn that nap. The coziness of her bed and softness of her skin sends Henry into a place he hasn’t felt since arriving for filming. This girl, this woman, who he’s barely known for 48 hours has made him feel at home. He knows it sounds strange. He knows this is very unlike him and it would seem to be unlike her as well. He’s holding her and has no intention of leaving her, so he pulls her even closer. His heart beats faster as she turns to bury her face in his chest like it was just where she belonged. What is it about her? I mean, he knows what it is but why now? Why when he’s working and leaving in a months time? He shakes the thought, squeezing her close again.

Y/N stirs in her sleep but doesn’t wake. A few moments later, she starts again and looks up at Henry with tired eyes, “I don’t think I’ve slept that hard in ages.”

“Yeah? I slept pretty good myself.” That morning voice.

“You’re so comfy.” She dramatically throws herself on top of him, welcoming his arms around her again.

He kisses the top of her head, “Do you wanna go out for lunch? I’m starving.”

“Oh, will this be that date you were talking about?”

“Yes,” He feels like he just asked a girl to dance at prom.

“Ok."

“But, I’ll need to get back to the hotel for a change.” She disapprovingly groans, “I don’t wanna go on our date with post rain shoes.”

“Post-rain shoes?”

“Yeah, you know when shoes make that fart noise.”

“Ah, the fart noise.” She plays with her necklace, half paying attention.

He blows a raspberry on her forehead before jumping out of bed, “Alright, you want to come with me or do you want me to come back?”

“And risk S/N having another fit at me?” He halts and turns on his heels.

“I forgot she was staying there.”

“She won’t cause a scene if you’re worried.” She has a secret pang of sadness and guilt in her chest. She would understand if he never wanted to see her again.

“I’m more worried about her interrogating me.”

“You should be.” Damn, straight.

“Oh? Any Ideas on what she’ll ask? I should be prepared.”

“Something along the lines of, ‘What were you doing to my sister?”

“I was about to split her in half.” Y/N face goes red.

“Henry!”

He has many smiles but he has a mischievous one that is similar to a boy who knows he’s been improper, “What would you like for me to say?”

“Definitely not that.”

“Maybe I’ll just run away from her. She can’t be that fast, she’s as tall as my leg.”

“Take it from me, that girl is fast when she’s angry. I dated someone much taller than you and she literally caught up to him in less that a minute. Don’t trust the little ones.”

“Taller than me? Good God, did he fall from a bean stalk?”

She laughs at look on his face, “No.” She can’t stop grinning at this suddenly thicker accent, “He was 6’5.”

“So, you’ve dated an Ent before. Noted.”

“I’m not attracted to trees, or any other lord of the rings creatures.”

He says under his breath, “Certainly not the hobbits.”

“I’m attracted to superheroes who hide in bars, and maybe Aragorn.”

“Is that right?”

“Mhmm.”

“I do know how to ride a horse.”

“I feel like British people are just born knowing how to ride horses.”

“Are all Americans born wielding guns?” Ouch.

“Oh, ha-ha,”

“You coming?” She pouts, “Don’t give me that look, I’ll never be able to leave.”

“If I go with you, I’ll never come back.” He stares at her, studying her face and loving how she doesn’t give two shits about how wild her morning hair is, “What?”

“I’m looking at you.”

“Well, yeah but why?” She plops her head back down to her pillow.

He wants to tell her that he find her fascinating and beautiful but he settles with his words, “I don’t know. I just like you.”

“I like you, too.”

“Will you like me next week?” Eager.

“Are you already asking me on a second date before out first date?”

“Yep,” He’s now fully dressed, in that perfect shirt. “How about this, I go back to the hotel, then we meet at Eco’s at 1?”

“It’s a date.” He kisses the top of her head and then very delicately on the lips.

“I’ll see you soon, Darling.” There’s that word again, Darling.

[Tagged: If you’d like to be tagged, just shoot me a message or ask!]

@igotkatiepowers  @xxxkatxo  @lunedelorient  @heartfelt-pen @omgkatinka @viking-raider @summersing69 

[artificialqueens]

2003 (1/2) (Vanique) - Ortega

a/n: VANIQUE MUST RIIIIIIISE!!!! ayo team, welcome to this. i pulled this ship from virtually nowhere when i was writing n19f and people seemed to like i as much as i did, so i wrote these two together for the fic challenge. i’ve split this fic into two halves, as they’re two very different vibes. this part follows Vanessa and Monique as they go through primary school and then start their first couple years at high school, so it’s definitely more platonic than anything else but it’s cute! also overall this was inspired by two songs, one being 2003 by Todrick and the other being I Choose You by Kiana Ledé which will be the title of the next part, so look out for that. i so so sosososo hope u enjoy, bc i highkey love this pairing a lot. lots of lo-ove, by-ee!

tw: implied child neglect and drug use

summary: Vanessa Mateo and Monique Heart start school in the year 2003. They love girlbands, superheroes and football, and they’re best friends forever. At least, that’s the plan.

***

The room smells of squeaky floors and play-dough. It’s not like anything she’s ever smelt before, but it’s weirdly comforting. She’s sat on a carpet patterned with all kinds of fruit. It doesn’t have pineapple (which is her favourite), but that’s okay. The walls are covered in colourful paper, an arts-and-crafts rainbow explosion. There’s words too, different curly and spiky shapes making letters. She knows one has a “V” in it because that comes at the start of her name and it looks the same, but she can’t read any of the writing yet. Some of the kids in nursery could already read and one of the boys could even write stories. Vanessa couldn’t. She still can’t, but that’s okay. She can write her name and say please and thank you in two different languages and she knows how to count up to 12 (she gets stuck after that, but she’ll learn the rest).

She looks around the carpet. There’s a girl nearby her with two huge black plaits and huge brown eyes to match. Her skin is dark, and Vanessa feels comforted by the fact she’s not alone in sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the Snow Whites and Cinderellas and Auroras and their matching porcelain-skinned Disney princes that are sitting on the carpet with her. She scratches her head, feeling the bow her Mama tied in dark her hair shift. She hopes she’s not made a mess of it. Then Mama would be mad.

Her teacher’s been talking for a while now. It seems like she’s been talking for two hours. Maybe she has been talking for two hours. Vanessa looks up at the clock, even though she doesn’t know how to tell the time yet so the information is less than useless to her. Bored, her eyes drift towards the girl she was looking at before. She’s wearing a white polo shirt and a red pinafore, and her white socks have got red bows on them. Vanessa is jealous. Her new jumper with the school logo is scratchy on the inside and she told her Mama that her leggings have a hole at the knee but they can’t get any new ones until she gets paid.

She bum-shuffles across to sit beside the girl, keeps her eyes trained on the teacher like a sniper as she leans in and whispers. “You look like a princess.”

The girl gives her a big smile. Vanessa knows she should say thank you, but maybe she doesn’t know as much about manners as Vanessa does. The girl whispers to her. “You look like Meg from Hercules.”

Vanessa smiles at her. She’s seen Hercules- it’s not her favourite, but she’s seen it- and Meg was her favourite character. “Thanks.”

“It’s okay,” she whispers. There’s a pause before she hisses to her again. “My name’s Monique, what’s yours?”

“I’m Vanessa,” she replies quietly. Vanessa picks at the hole in her leggings. It’s now about the size of a 1p coin. She knows about coins, at least. “Hey, you wanna play princesses at playtime?”

Monique nods excitedly, then whips her head around, scared. Vanessa looks up at her teacher. Her eyebrows are almost joined-up and there’s little lines on her forehead and her eyes have gone all hard. Vanessa knows this means she’s feeling cross.

“Vanessa, Monique! It’s rude to talk while someone else is talking. We don’t do that in school.”

Vanessa knows she should nod, but her stomach feels all fizzy and she finds herself frowning at her teacher instead. Monique says sorry. Maybe Vanessa should say sorry too. She decides she doesn’t want to.

“She’s been talking for about 5 hours. Maybe even 4 years,” Vanessa whispers to Monique again. Monique covers her mouth with her hands and lets out a tiny giggle. Their teacher gives them a suspicious look again and Monique shuffles away from Vanessa. Vanessa knows this means she doesn’t want to get into trouble. As soon as the teacher starts talking again, Vanessa hisses over to her.

“Monique!”

No answer. “Monique!”

Monique turns around a little bit to face her. “What?”

Vanessa cups her mouth with her hands so the girl can hear her. “Do you want to be best friends?”

Monique gives her another big smile. It makes Vanessa feel happy too. “Okay!”

She’s only been here for five hours, maybe even four years, and she’s already made a best friend. This school thing is easy.

***

It’s the two of them for life. Vanessa just knows it. They’re BFFAEAE (best friends forever and ever and ever). They get in trouble for chatting at school and their long-suffering teacher monitors them like a hawk. They’re banned from sitting near each other on the carpet because even when Vanessa tries to listen (even if it’s P.E., her favourite), she’ll think of something funny she just has to share with Monique, and of course Monique is incapable of laughing quietly so she lets out a screech that completely disrupts the whole lesson and earns them both five minutes off their reward time. Vanessa doesn’t even mind losing reward time. They sit at the same table while everyone else plays and they write out the class rules, but Vanessa doesn’t mind because it’s the only time they’ll ever be allowed to sit together in class.

In the playground and after school it’s a different story. In Reception they play princesses and animal rescue with their threadbare, well-loved stuffed animals they sneak into school in their schoolbags. By Year 1 they’re popstars learning dance routines and designing album covers and falling out because Monique wants to call their double-act The Strawberry Babies and Vanessa knows that obviously The Starlights is a far superior name. In the Summer between Year 1 and Year 2 Vanessa’s Mama takes them to the cinema to see Fantastic Four and so for the whole of Year 2 they’re obsessed with superheroes, rolling around on the tarmac play-fighting with each other and getting bruised knees and scraped elbows and so far removed from the girly girls they were when they started school.

Vanessa knows everything about Monique and Monique knows everything about her, because that’s what it means to be best friends. Vanessa knows that Monique’s brother is eleven and goes to Big School and doesn’t play with her and slams his door and plays rap music that Monique can hear when she’s in her room with the door closed. Monique stays in the high flats with her brother and her gran.

“Do you have a Mama?” Vanessa remembers asking her one day in the playground, drawing in the dirt with sticks.

Monique’s voice had been quiet. She hadn’t looked up from drawing in the dirt. “Uh-huh.”    

“Where is she?”

Monique had shrugged, scribbled out the happy face she’d drawn. “Gran says she’s not allowed to see us any more.”

Vanessa could tell talking about her Mama had made Monique sad, so they don’t talk about that any more. Dads are off the table too. Vanessa doesn’t know hers and Monique doesn’t either. Vanessa doesn’t really need a Dad. Her Mama works in the supermarket and keeps their tiny pebbledashed council house in the estate spotlessly clean and is always on time to pick Vanessa up from school. She drags Vanessa kicking and screaming to mass every Sunday (Vanessa doesn’t like it because all the chanting scares her) and threatens her with El Coco until she’s blue in the face. Monique goes to church too but hers sounds more fun- they laugh and clap and sing their hearts out. Monique sings the songs in school. Vanessa thinks she sounds like she could be in the Sugababes, not that she’s allowed to listen to the Sugababes.

Monique comes round to Vanessa’s house every few weeks or so. She lives close, and Monique is allowed to walk round on her own. Vanessa is jealous of that. She wishes her Mama would let her go places on her own. She tells her that one day and Mama howls with laughter, says she’s not allowed out on her own until she’s at least twenty-one. Vanessa thinks she’s joking. Thinks.

Vanessa gets excited when Monique visits because she knows her Mama will make an effort with the dinner. That’s unfair and disrespectful, she knows; Mama works hard to put food on the table, but her stuffed arepas are just better than rice and beans (and microwave meals if it’s near her pay day, which her Mama makes Vanessa promise she’ll never tell her Abuela they eat). They sit and eat with their bowls on their laps on the sofa in front of the TV and watch The Weakest Link. They sometimes get the questions right even though they’re only 7 and the people on the show are fully-grown adults. Monique is smart, though. Smarter than Vanessa. Vanessa thinks she’s smarter than their teacher. She’s the best at writing in the class and the best at maths too, and she can read any word at all.

Vanessa’s not that smart, but she knows Monique is, and she thinks she’s amazing.

It’s a grey-clouded day in July in the Summer of 2007 when Monique pulls up outside Vanessa’s house on a brand new bike. It’s blue and the seat is close to the ground and the spokes are all shiny. Vanessa runs out to see her, sticks her feet in between the bars of the rusty iron gate at the front of their house and swings back and forth as Monique talks.

“My brother got me it. Someone from the skatepark didn’t want it any more and it’s too small for him, so I guess it’s mine now,” Monique shrugs happily. There’s a smudge of dirt on her face that Vanessa knows her Mama will wipe off with a hot cloth if she sees it. “It’s kinda big for me but it works okay. You got a bike, right?”

Vanessa cringes, thinks about the pink bike with streamers at the handles that lives in their back garden and is probably crumbling away with rust. “I got one, but it ain’t as cool as yours.”

Monique smiles, satisfied with the compliment. “Well, go get it an’ we can go for a ride.”

Vanessa blushes and thinks of how many cool points she’s going to lose when she tells Monique that she has to ask her Mama first. Monique laughs at her good-humouredly, sticks her tongue out at her and calls her a baby. Monique turned 9 two months ago and Vanessa has to wait four more to catch up with her, so the comment stings but she pretends it doesn’t.

To her surprise and delight, her Mama lets her go out on her bike with Monique but only if they just go round the estate and they’re back before dinner time. Vanessa has never been able to follow the rules, though, so when Monique tells her she knows a place by the river under the bridge with a scrub of sand like it’s the seaside then Vanessa doesn’t hesitate to follow her. Vanessa wonders how Monique seems to know the city so well: she takes her on a journey through dark underpasses with yellow strip lights and bright scrawls of graffiti, narrow bridges above busy roads that Vanessa tries to pretend don’t scare her, secret little paths through the big park Vanessa goes to with her Mama sometimes. They pedal wildly and everything zooms by so quickly that even though she has no idea where she is, Vanessa feels safe. Any vaguely scary things they see (big dogs) are gone a second later, and Vanessa knows Monique would protect her if anything scary did happen. She would protect her too. That’s just what best friends do.

They arrive at the place Monique had been talking about. The brown stone bridge hangs high above them but Vanessa can still hear the cars on it pass by. They’re drowned out slightly by the babbling of the river, inky and cold and black with jaggy rocks underneath its surface. There’s huge clusters of boulders that they both have to climb over to get to the sand and they have to leave their bikes leaning against the wall on the path. It’s not a pretty place, but it’s still a little bit magical. It has the aura of adventure rather than beauty and they’d be more likely to discover pirates here than fairies, which is just how Vanessa likes it. Together they chuck stones into the water haphazardly, their hands growing more grubby by the minute and the dirt black under their nails.

“What’s that?” Vanessa narrows her eyes, reaches down to pick up the object she’s spotted. It’s embedded in the sand and she can’t really see what it is, but it looks like what she got her injections with at the doctor’s. Monique races over to see what she’s talking about and pushes her hand away quickly. Vanessa snaps. “Hey!”

“You’re not s'posed to touch that, it’s dangerous!” Monique cries, outraged. “What if you got stabbed?”

Vanessa snorts a laugh. “It’s ain’t a knife, M'nique, it’s only a stupid needle."

Then, almost as if Monique’s warning had been a dare, Vanessa picks it out the sand with her thumb and index finger, holds it by the plastic tube. Monique’s face falls. "Stop it, ‘Ness, that’s creepy.”

Vanessa laughs, starts making the needle float about while making spooky noises. Monique takes a step back, her face all panicked. Vanessa gives a giggle. Monique’s acting like a scaredy-cat; she does that sometimes and it’s funny to wind her up. She usually takes it well but she’s growing more distressed than she usually does. Her eyes are all wide and Vanessa stops playing the moment she sees tears start welling up in them. She immediately drops the needle into the river and crosses over to her, her trainers leaving huge Nike ticks in the sand.

“Hey, what’s the matter? I’m sorry,” she mumbles. She regrets joking around now, and Monique is wiping at her eyes and sniffing and smearing dirt across her face.

“They used to be all ‘round my house before we lived with Gran,” she sniffs. Vanessa gets a churning feeling in her tummy. She doesn’t really know what that means, but it makes her feel frightened just hearing about it. She can’t imagine how frightened Monique felt seeing them for real. Slipping the sleeves of her hoodie down over her hands, she gives Monique a hug, pats her back in the hope it’s comforting.

“I threw it in the river. Don’t worry. You don’t need to see it ever again,” Vanessa says. She’s not Monique, she doesn’t know what it’s like to have a sibling, but Monique is the closest thing to a sister she has and she wants to keep her safe. Monique is smiling at her when she steps out of the hug, and Vanessa feels relieved.

“An’ if it does come back we’ll just stab it before it can stab us first!” Monique jokes. It’s a silly joke but Vanessa still bursts out laughing.

“We’ll stab it with a stick!” she joins in, and soon the two girls are laughing and anything vaguely threatening has been forgotten about.

They end up cycling a lot that Summer, Monique showing Vanessa all sorts of hidden places all round the city. Vanessa never feels freer than when she’s racing around on dirt paths behind her best friend, and worries are a distant memory. Vanessa’s life is good and she has a lot of things to be thankful for but she knows she looks different and doesn’t fit in, she knows there’s a lot of things that the other kids have that she doesn’t, she knows that there are times when her Mama sits up at night time with her bills spilling out across the kitchen table and a calculator in her hand. Monique is a bright smile and a sense of adventure and she makes Vanessa feel happy.

They don’t go out on their bikes as much when they go back to school after the holidays. Year 4 flies by almost as quick as they used to cycle, as does Year 5. They don’t pretend as much in the playground anymore, preferring to run riot on the astroturf with the boys in their class and play football and get bruises on their shins from being tackled to within an inch of their life. Not much changes by Year 6; their last year of primary school when they should be responsible and conscientious and yet they’re still getting in trouble for giggling in class and playing pranks on the other kids and whispering swear words in Spanish (that one is Vanessa’s fault).

They’ve only got a month left of primary school and Vanessa’s allowed to walk home with Monique now as long as she keeps her phone on loud and texts her Mama to tell her if they’re stopping by the park or the snack van. Today is one of those days. They’re sat underneath the huge cherry blossom tree at the park; Vanessa wants to climb it but Monique’s saying that’s too babyish. They’re too old for that now, so they’re bluetoothing each other Tinchy Stryder and N-Dubz songs and blaring them at full volume out of their tinny phone speakers instead. Vanessa’s about to show Monique a parody somebody’s made of You’re Beautiful by James Blunt when Monique breaks the not-quite-silence.

“You gotta crush on anyone?”

Vanessa wrinkles her face up, snorts a laugh. “Ew! Nah. All the boys in our class are gross. I ain’t ever had a crush on any of ‘em.”

Monique gives a quiet laugh. “Me neither. They all use that Lynx Africa like it’s gonna cover up their B.O.”

Vanessa lets out a howl of laughter. She wasn’t lying to Monique; she doesn’t have a crush on anyone. If she thinks about it, she’s never really had a crush on any of the boys in her class. It’s just not something she thinks about. She cares more about her best friend than she’d ever care about any boy.

Their laughter dies down, and Vanessa gets a knot in her stomach. It happens every so often when she thinks about high school. Their class went up to see the school last week and it felt like such a terrifying maze of identical-looking corridors and crowds of kids so old they looked to be mini adults. Their teacher had told them to write down three friends they wanted to be in the same form class as, even though she said she couldn’t guarantee they’d get to stay together. Vanessa had written only one name on her form- Monique Heart - in her curly, barely-legible handwriting, the “i”s dotted with hearts. It’s been on her mind ever since, though. They’ve been together since Reception, Monique is all Vanessa knows. She wouldn’t begin to know how to make any other friends. She doesn’t want any other friends.

“M’nique,” Vanessa says, and the other girl looks up. “What happens if we ain’t in the same form class next year?”

Monique gives a small, humoured laugh. “Well then we ain’t in the same form class.”

Vanessa rolls her eyes and shoves her. “Duh, idiot! I mean like…with us. We still gon’ be best friends?”

Monique laughs dismissively, shakes her head at her. “Now who’s being the idiot?”

“I’m serious!” Vanessa objects, annoyed that Monique’s still got her eyebrows raised at her like she’s a little kid. She’s going to be 12 in October; it’s not like she’s a baby. “What if you find other cool girls to hang out with? What if you get a new best friend? What am I gonna do?”

“You’re gonna do nothing, cuz that ain’t gonna happen,” Monique insists. Her face lights up as she gets an idea, jabs a finger against the tree trunk. “Okay. If I carve our initials into this tree, it’ll be like a promise. That we’re always gonna be best friends. I don’t want to hang out with cool girls. It’s fun just me an’ you.”

Vanessa smiles, her heart feeling all warm at the reassurance. Monique rummages around in her bag and produces her keys, starts stabbing at the bark of the tree relentlessly. Vanessa flinches a little, part of the reaction a residual memory from watching Pocahontas too much when she was really little; she used to believe that trees could feel things like humans. She shares the memory with Monique who doesn’t laugh at her, even though she probably has every right to.

“Well humans feel things an’ they get tattoos. So this is like a tattoo for a tree,” she shrugs. She’s chipped a big capital M in the bumpy bark so far and is starting on an H.

“Hey, you think we should get matching tattoos when we’re grown ups?” Vanessa suggests, the idea exciting her. Monique frowns as she drags her key over the wood.

“Don’t they use needles for that?”

Vanessa regrets the idea as soon as Monique says it; she’d forgotten about her friend’s fear. She decides to commit to the idea. “They do, but they’re all clean an’ safe. An’ you wouldn’t have to be scared cuz I’d go with you.”

Monique nods as she starts on Vanessa’s name. “I never feel scared when I’m with you. Except when Mrs Del Rio yells at us.”

“She’s a big baby. She just hates us cuz we would be better teachers than her,” Vanessa shrugs. It’s true.

“Well, what tattoo are we gonna get? We need to decide now so we can start saving up for it,” Monique questions her. Vanessa scoffs.

“How much do you think a tattoo costs? It’s like ten pounds, God!"

It’s Monique’s turn to laugh. "Nah, it’s way more than that! My brother’s got one and his cost a hundred and fifty.”

Vanessa lets out an outraged screech. “That’s a damn lie! You’re gonna go to the bad fire if you keep tellin’ lies like that.”

“An’ you’re gonna go to the bad fire cuz you just cussed.”

“Well, see you down there,” Vanessa shrugs. She considers Monique’s question. “What about we get BFFs in cool writing?”

Monique nods enthusiastically. “Yeah! With a heart maybe.”

“Yeah!” Vanessa agrees, excited about the prospect of their matching tattoos. She Googles “when can i get a tatoo” (spelling’s never been her strong suit) and lets out a groan at what she reads. “Ugh. We have to wait seven whole years.”

“You have to wait seven years, I only have to wait six!” Monique boasts, Vanessa sighing. She hates being one of the youngest in the class. She doesn’t have time to feel down for long though, as Monique shows her her handiwork with a flourish; MH + VM, scratched into the tree forever. “There! Best friends forever.”

Vanessa feels as if her smile is going to break her face. It feels like her body is made of the sun’s rays. When Monique says that, high school doesn’t seem so scary any more.

“Where we gonna get these tattoos anyway?” Monique speaks again. Vanessa’s smile turns wicked and she can barely get her thoughts out without laughing.

“Imagine we get them on our butt!”

Vanessa thinks Monique’s Gran might be able to her them screeching with laughter from the top floor of her tower block.

***

Things change though, despite the promise they make. Monique doesn’t think either of them mean to break it but life gets in the way and God has other plans. It’s what she believes at least.

Though she doesn’t know what his plan was for separating her from her best friend. Monique cries for forty-five solid minutes when she receives the letter telling her what form class she’s in; she knows it’s different to Vanessa’s. Her Gran holds her tight and rocks her against her chest on the sofa while her brother yells at her to shut up and slams his bedroom door. Her Gran is full of comforting words: you’re a strong girl, and you’ve been through worse in your life than this, and this isn’t going to change a single thing, hush now. But it is going to change things. When she’s with Vanessa, Monique feels like she can take on the world. She brings out her confident side when she feels shy, matches every shriek with a screech, takes her mind off the fact that she lives in a shoebox fourteen storeys high in the air where the elevator doesn’t work and the stairwell smells like piss. She can’t imagine starting high school without her. She doesn’t want to imagine it.

Monique batters out of the flat despite her Gran shouting after her, dashes down the stairs like her life depends on it. Her heart feels ready to give out when she reaches the lobby and bursts out into the open air but she still unchains her bike from the rack outside, pedals madly to Vanessa’s house. The bike is too small for her now and it’s uncomfortable to ride but it’s all she has to get her to the person that matters most. She reaches the house and Vanessa’s Mama lets her in, and Monique takes the stairs up to Vanessa’s bedroom two at a time where they hold each other tight and bundle up in Vanessa’s duvet and sob and sob and sob.

But looking back, Monique knows she’d been a little dramatic that day. Not being in the same form class as Vanessa really is not the end of the world. They walk there together on their first day and give each other a tight, nervous hug before they each head to their own form rooms. Monique pushes down on the doorhandle and anxiety fills her body as she walks in, freezes at the doorframe. There’s about twenty other kids already in the room and the whole scene is a bit chaotic. There are two boys chucking a ball to each other across the classroom, some girls with hair in high ponytails screeching and playing Katy Perry out of their phone speakers. Even though Monique has sat through countless interviews with social workers, child psychologists and police officers, this is one of the scariest experiences of her life.

“Hey. You wanna sit with us?”

Monique’s eyes fall on a table of girls with skin just like hers and hair to match. Monique instantly feels 80% more reassured; she’s never seen a classroom with a colour palette like this in her life. She and Vanessa had been the only two girls in their year at primary whose skin colour had deviated from the sea of pink or almost-translucent. There’s one girl who fits that mold at the table with the others, and Monique thinks it’s funny that she’s got pale skin, blonde hair and blue eyes and still happens to be the odd one out.

The girls take her under their wing that first day, and the next, and the next. They’ve all gone to a different primary school from Monique and so are already closer than close, but they never make her feel like an outsider. Asia with the sleek, black hair that tumbles down her back has a sweet smile and explains all the in-jokes that Monique doesn’t understand. Antonia, the girl who invited Monique to sit with them, has an intimidating face and a skinny frame but a kind heart and always shares her snack and pens with her. Roberta- Bob- has a huge untameable afro and personality to match, and her cousin Monét isn’t dissimilar apart from the fact that her hair is wavy and caramel instead of jet black and curly. They bicker with each other and gossip about their teachers and make Monique laugh when she’s down. And Brianna is kind and caring and is always able to put a smile on Monique’s face.

Before long, it seems like Monique has made five new friends without even having to try. She wishes she could say she’s friends with Vanessa like she always used to be, but that would be lying.

Because Vanessa’s made friends too. They’re the girls Monique’s Gran always warned her about- friends with the devil and they’ll lead you on a path straight to him. Akeria and Silky make a reputation for themselves at high school within a week of the year beginning. They mess about in class, text during lessons, Silky starts fights with other girls in the corridors that her victims never have the balls to finish. Akeria flirts with the boys and the rumours say she’s had her first kiss already. They backchat teachers and keep cans of spray paint in their bags and walk along the train tracks to the depot after school to spray their wobbly initials on the side of freight trains.

But despite the fact they don’t hang out as much in person any more, that doesn’t diminish the light that Monique keeps burning in her heart for Vanessa. They bump into each other in corridors and chat excitedly in the five minutes they have between lessons, smile and wave at each other from across the lunch hall, and they still text each other and walk there and back from school together. Well, until just after the start of Year 8. Vanessa starts getting a lift from Akeria’s Mum in the mornings and hanging out at the shopping centre with her and Silky after school. It’s not her fault, and Monique supposes she’s no better- Monét lives on Monique’s route to school so the two of them start walking together instead, and after school the girls often go to the chicken shop in town and shovel down wings to make up for the disgusting school lunches.

By her second year of high school it’s almost like Monique has a new best friend.

But she doesn’t want to think like that, so she’s overjoyed when it gets to the start of Summer, just before the last term of their second year ends, and Vanessa’s texts change from general small-talk chit-chat to an invitation to have a sleepover at her house at the weekend. Monique feels embarrassing levels of excitement as she texts back confirming she’ll be there.

M: Are your other friends gonna be there??

V: nah just me n u

And it is just her and Vanessa. It’s a gorgeously sunny day and Vanessa’s Mama puts up a tent in the garden that they can camp out in. It’s nice to be back with her, talking and giggling and laughing about stupid stuff. Vanessa laughs uproariously as she tells Monique about Silky and Akeria’s latest exploits and Monique listens nervously, anxious just hearing about them.

“Do you join in when they do stuff like that?” Monique asks her, after a story about how Silky signed her name in the same Sharpie she does her eyebrows with on a toilet cubicle door and got detention. Vanessa shakes her head, smiles bashfully.

“Nah. I tell ‘em it’s good to keep someone onside in case we get into trouble. The teachers’ll let us away with more if they like one of us. 'Least that’s my excuse,” she explains. Monique smiles, reassured.

“I didn’t think you were like them,” she says, relieved. She thinks Vanessa narrows her eyes at her, but she blinks and her expression has changed. Vanessa’s started wearing makeup and it suits her, even though her foundation is maybe a little off-colour. The mascara she’s swept onto her lashes opens up her eyes a little more and lets Monique see the twinkle that seems to be permanently shining in them.

She is so pretty, and Monique wishes she could look like her.

They talk as if nothing has changed over dinner, various barbecued meats grilled on a disposable barbecue Vanessa’s Mama got from her work. Monique has never had a barbecue before and she decides that burgers charred to within an inch of their lives are the best thing she’s ever eaten. They make smores from chocolate digestives and marshmallows for dessert and Monique howls with laughter as the chocolate and marshmallow melt down half Vanessa’s hand and she licks it off as her Mama rolls her eyes, goes to find her a hot cloth and mutters in Spanish that Monique doesn’t understand but knows is long-suffering. She has almost forgotten the way Vanessa can make her belly laugh just by acting the fool. Monique has spent two whole years not even knowing how much she’s missed her friend, too distracted by her new ones.

When it’s time to go to sleep they both cosy up under Vanessa’s duvet that’s been dragged outside and a sleeping bag each under that. Every available pillow and cushion in the house has been utilised in lieu of a blow-up mattress but the set-up is still comfortable, even though it’s pitch-black both in the tent and outside. It might be the end of June but it’s still cold once the sun goes down, and Vanessa has shuffled up near to Monique in a bid to try and keep warm. Vanessa being so close makes Monique feel warm on the inside as well as the outside.

“Hey, you know that rumour about Akeria kissing Dean from Year 9?” Monique pipes up, interested. “Is that true?”

Vanessa rolls onto her tummy to face Monique, and her eyes are sparkling with mischief even in the dark. It makes Monique’s stomach do a flip. “Yeah. They did it at the food court after school one day. You wanna know what else?”

Vanessa’s face is so full of glee that Monique can’t help but nod in anticipation. She’s almost in fits of laughter as she tries to get the secret out. “He tried to get her to touch his…you know!”

Monique lets out a screech that is equal parts horrified and amused as Vanessa dissolves into giggles too. “GROSS! Did she do it?”

“Ew! What do you think? Of course she didn’t. That shit’s nasty.”

There’s a pause in which Vanessa lets out a few more giggles. Monique doesn’t. She’s silent. She’s thinking.

“I wonder what it’s like.”

Vanessa’s voice is loud in the silence of the night. “What? Touching a boy’s-”

“No, idiot!” Monique laughs, explaining herself. “Kissing someone. Wonder if it’s as nice as people say it is.”

Vanessa falls quiet as well. Monique wonders what she’s thinking. She decides to break the silence. “You ever kissed a boy?”

Vanessa lets out a snort. “Come on, M’nique, you know I ain’t.”

“No I don’t!” Monique protests, her voice dropping to a murmur as she feels herself pout while she speaks. “I feel like I don’t know anything about you anymore.”

They both fall silent, and there’s a shift in the atmosphere that Monique can’t quite put her finger on. Vanessa lets out a sudden giggle.

“What?” Monique asks awkwardly, unsure if she’s meant to be in on the joke or the butt of it.

Vanessa’s face is scheming. She laughs a little, buries her face in her pillow before she speaks. “You know we could practise?”

Monique is slow on the uptake at first. “Practise? Practise what?”

She realises as Vanessa lifts her head and gives another giggle. Monique lets out a screech, takes the pillow from underneath her head and thumps her friend with it. “Ew, Vanessa! Ew, ew, ew! You’re so weird!”

“Oh, c’mon! I don’t wanna go kiss a boy and then be really bad at it, then he’s tell his friends and they’d tell their friends and then the whole school would think I’m shit!” Vanessa insists. Monique’s heart gives a very loud thud as Vanessa inches her face close to Monique. She’s not taken her makeup off and her mascara is all smudged around her eyes like makeshift eyeliner. She looks really pretty.

Monique shoves her away back onto the pillows. “I ain’t doin’ that shit with you! Ask Akeria since she’s so experienced.”

“But I don’t wanna practise with Kiki! I wanna practise with you!” Vanessa says matter-of-factly. Monique’s stomach gives another churn. Something is different, something has changed. Monique isn’t sure what it is or what to make of it.

“Well, tough shit. We ain’t…practising,” Monique huffs, turning her back to Vanessa and letting her eyes burn holes in the flimsy tent walls.

Vanessa’s voice comes from her side of the tent. “Fine! But if they call you…shit, I don’t know…Washing-Machine Mouth Monique…don’t say I never warned you!”

Monique lets out another huff, squeezes her eyes shut and wills herself to sleep. She feels weird. Her heart is going too fast and her stomach feels fizzy and it takes her a moment to realise her face has gone all hot.

“M’nique?” Vanessa’s voice comes from the darkness. She ignores it. “You mad at me?”

She sighs, rolls her eyes even though she knows Vanessa can’t see. “No.”

“Okay,” Vanessa says. Her voice is soft, and she rolls over onto her side. She rests her head against Monique’s back and puts an arm around her. They hug all the time, but this one feels different. It’s nice, though, and Monique feels warm and safe. “I’m sorry we haven’t hung out much. You know. Like we did in primary.”

“I’m sorry too,” Monique sighs, bringing a hand up to pat Vanessa on the arm. She ends up simply leaving it there.

“Hey, we should hang out more in the Summer! You know you can always come round to mine,” Vanessa continues.

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” Monique murmurs, letting out a heavy sigh. She’s not lying- it would be nice. She knows she could never have friends back to her flat because they don’t have the space and besides, most of them wouldn’t even want to set foot in the high rise anyway. Monét’s parents are doctors and Asia’s Dad is a barrister and her Mum is a lawyer, and Bob’s parents work in something accountant-y, and they all live in big houses with sweeping paved driveways and garages and gardens the size of the Emirates stadium. Granted Antonia’s Mum and Dad both work two jobs to pay the rent and Brianna’s Dad is a dustbin man while her Mum stays at home to look after her baby sister, but at least their families are happy ones. Monique has never known the luxury of a fancy house or a private garden or a car or a perfect, cookie-cutter family. She wonders if she ever will.

She’s pulled out of her thoughts by Vanessa giving her a gentle squeeze, cuddling closer. She didn’t think it would be possible but she somehow manages it, and Monique isn’t complaining. “G'night, M'nique.”

Monique is too tired to think any more. Vanessa’s arms feel comforting around her, and she chooses to settle in them. “Night, 'Ness.”

[honeymoonjin]

A/N: a sequel to Seven (read it here). The boys return backstage to a shocking surprise. Special shout-out to my best girl @jeonau for this gorgeous banner. Her services are always appreciated and she deserves the world xx

The dressing room was in chaos when Jimin and Taehyung finally returned backstage. The two of them had stayed out a little longer to watch the fireworks, with no idea of the drama they were missing. All the other boys were bunched up in the far end, and Jimin couldn’t see past them to work out what exactly had caught their attention.

“What’s going on?” he calls out to nobody in particular, receiving no answer over the several layers of entangled conversation. The two of them hover on the outskirts of the group, trying to discern snippets of rushed speech.

“…thing is that she’s safe now and…”

“I know, but why can’t she just…”

“…not up for discussion.” It’s not until Sejin, who’s the one saying this, pulls away and notices them that they’re finally filled in. “Boys, you’re here. We’ve had a slight mishap-”

“Mishap?” Yoongi interrupts incredulously, a passionate fury across his face that is rarely seen on the normally-calm man. “A mishap? I come off stage and bump into my girlfriend in the corridor, bawling her fucking eyes out because you wouldn’t let her see us and that’s a mishap?”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Namjoon eases quickly, “I’m as upset as you are, but-”

“Y/n’s here?” Taehyung interrupts, so softly the leader almost misses it. He furrows his eyebrows and pushes his way inwards, past his other members, Jimin following quickly behind. Behind the mass of people is a sofa, on it is their Y/n, shaking like a leaf, knees up to her chest. It was immediately obvious that she had been crying like Yoongi said; with puffy cheeks and a running nose, she looked absolutely miserable.

Jimin felt his heart twist. How long had she been like this when he wasn’t here? “What happened?” he asks of Jin, who’s currently sat beside her, rubbing her back and burying his chin in her hair to keep her head pressed against his chest. He smiles sadly and speaks over her sniffling. “Y/n came all the way here to surprise us. Manager Sejin wanted to send her back home because we’re so busy,” he fixes the older man with a disappointed glare, “but that wasn’t such a good idea. But it’s okay, baby,” he murmurs into Y/n’s here, “we’re here now. We’re all here. Look, do you wanna say hi to Jimin and Tae?”

Jimin’s heart breaks again when his girl looks up at them balefully, before her face crumples and she starts sobbing again, hands reaching out to them. Instinctively, he links his fingers in with hers on her right hand as Taehyung gets down on his knees in front of the couch to look up at her, his hands almost the size of her face when he brings them up to cup her cheek, rubbing the tears away with his thumbs.

“Baby, you flew all the way here to visit us?” Taehyung waits patiently as she tries to speak, produces nothing but snuffles, and nods instead. “It’s okay, you don’t have to cry, pretty girl. We missed you so much, but you’re here now. Everything’s okay now.”

She raises one hand up to lay it over one of his, squeezing tightly to anchor herself. Before she speaks, she clears her throat, and everyone subconsciously shifts closer. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, voice cracking as it barely carries far enough for them to hear, “I didn’t mean to disrupt anything. I wanted to be here early, but the flight got delayed, and then when I got here, I couldn’t get through to you and-” she breaks off before she gets too overwhelmed, and takes a deep breath, exhaling heavily as Jin pulls her into a tighter hold, resuming the soothing circles on her back. Her morose eyes flicker over to Sejin, before falling back down to Taehyung’s much warmer gaze. “I had some good news to tell you guys, and I wanted to tell you in person, that’s all. I guess I didn’t think it through.”

It’s Hoseok that realizes what she’s saying first. His eyes go wide and his voice soft. “Y/n, are you…”

Jimin feels the grip on his hand get tighter, and he looks down at Y/n in confusion as she nods. “I’m pregnant,” she utters weakly, and Jimin’s heart stops.

Feeling like the world has slowed down to two frames a second, Jimin takes in the reactions of those around him even as his eyes begin to sting. Hoseok’s eyes are sparkling with wonder, just like Jungkook, whose mouth has formed a tight ‘o’ in surprise. Sejin has a disappointed turn to his mouth but his eyes show nothing but sympathy. Yoongi has a disbelieving smile playing at his lips, slowly spreading into the gummy smile Jimin could never get enough of. One of Taehyung’s hands had left Y/n’s face to cover his mouth, blinking up at her like she held all the stars in the universe in her eyes. Namjoon, for the most part, looked scared.

Once Jimin opens his mouth to speak, he tastes salt on his lips. He’s crying. “Are you really? We’re gonna have a baby?” Upon saying it, he gasps wetly and falls to his knees besides Taehyung, leaning on his broad shoulder for support.

Jin, who for the most part looked like he hadn’t reacted at all, turns to gaze up at Sejin. “You were gonna send her home? Not tell us our pregnant girlfriend was roaming the halls of the venue bawling her fucking eyes out? You’re meant to take care of us. Us means her too.”

“I didn’t know,” the man says simply. “I apologize, Y/n. Had you told me, I would’ve-”

“Could you please give us some time with our girlfriend, manager-nim?” Namjoon questions flatly. “We can speak with you about this later. She’ll be staying with us for the rest of the tour as well, so you can take this chance to go update the accommodation and flight details.”

Sejin, knowing he’s no longer welcome, turns tail and leaves quietly. Y/n goes lax once the door shuts behind him. “I’m so sorry,” Namjoon says immediately, “everything shouldn’t have gone like this. Baby, if you told us that you were coming, we could’ve pre-” he cuts himself off with a rueful smile and shakes his head. “No, let’s not worry about that now. It’s done. I’m just so glad you’re safe, baby girl. Come on, chin up. Let’s go back to the hotel, yeah? Everyone must be hungry, it’s getting late.”

----------

If there was a perfect number, you thought it must be eight. It was an even number, so the eight of you would walk down the street in pairs; Hobi and Jin taking the lead, drinking in the sights. Jimin and Taehyung would go next, they went everywhere side-by-side. Namjoon and Jungkook would often bring up the rear, as JK loved practicing English with his hyung, but would often come to a halt in the middle of the footpath when he couldn’t think of a word. You and Yoongi walked together. You couldn’t remember the last time you went anywhere with them without holding Yoongi’s hand. The two of you would swing your joint hands idly between you, sending messages of comfort and love back and forth by the simple gesture of giving the other’s hand a squeeze every now and then. Eight was also, incidentally, a perfect amount when it came to sleeping. The dorms had been repurposed after you moved in, so that there were two rooms with two beds pushed together, and one with three. Most of the time, you split off into two groups of four. You wedged in the middle of the rap line, Namjoon at your back and the other two snuggling in front of you. Jin would spread out on his back in the other room, with three maknaes curled into his side under his arms like small children. But occasionally, often when it had been a while since you’d seen each other, or on nights where you didn’t just use the beds for sleeping, you’d pile into what used to be Jimin and Hoseok’s room, and you’d line up, different arrangements depending on how you collapsed into the bed when you were done.

Tonight was a night for the big bed. Since you were staying in a hotel, it took a while to stack three beds side by side, but you spent that time being coddled by seven caring men who were determined to cheer you up. Jin ordered some plain rice and steamed vegetables since you weren’t sure you could stomach anything heavier than that, and sat with you, even feeding you with his chopsticks when you felt too weak to even lift your arm. Jungkook had rushed down to the hotel’s laundromat with some coins taken from the staff, returning with a dryer-warm t-shirt for you to get changed into since you hadn’t thought to even bring a suitcase with you. Taehyung distracted you with photos he had taken on their travels so far, Jimin watching with his chin resting on your shoulder, hugging your back. Namjoon was on the phone with somebody, talking in a hush with his hand cupped around the receiver end, and you didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to even try and work out who he was speaking with or what he was saying, but you had faith it was something for you. Yoongi and Hobi were fluttering around you with water bottles, face wipes, and scented hand cream since you didn’t want to shower.

Finally, you’re carried into bed by Jungkook, who immediately turns you onto your side and wraps his arms around your middle. One by one, your other boys come and join you. Jin, Yoongi and Hoseok go behind Jungkook, Jimin is directly in front of you and Taehyung and Namjoon are behind him.

You bury your face in his chest, smelling the light perfume still lingering in his pajama top from the last time it was washed, and let the taxes of the day slip away. It doesn’t take you long to fall asleep with the collective harmony of their breathing mingling with yours, and the hand that has slipped under your shirt to rest on your belly, keeping the life inside of you safe.

--

(I’m just tagging everyone that explicitly expressed interest so that you don’t miss it! @prettybubblesintheair @ayyeaestheticgirl18 @hopetookmysoul @its-livemylife33 @honeyspillings @whitefeatheredwyvern)

[ericsonclan]

Quite the Keeper

Summary: Sophie cheers her boyfriend on in a Quidditch match before going on a date.

Read on A03:

Sophie looked out at the field before her, excited to see the match. It was only a practice match today but still, each match was always fun to watch, especially when Marlon was playing.

“Mind if I sit here?” Prisha asked, causing Sophie to look towards her.

“Sure.” Sophie replied with a smile. Usually houses stuck to their own stands whenever there was a Quidditch match. But her friends didn’t seem to care about that, always joining in the other houses' stands. It was one of things Sophie loved about them. Their attention was drawn back to the field when the two teams filed out. Today’s practice match was between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.

Sophie’s eyes lit up when she saw Marlon walk out, his red and gold robes blowing gently in the wind. He looked over towards the Hufflepuff stands, a huge smile on his face as he waved towards Sophie. She quickly waved back, causing her boyfriend to blush slightly. Violet stood on the opposite side of the field along with the rest of the Hufflepuff team. Her attention also wandered over to the stands, a gentle smile covering her face when she saw Prisha waving towards her.

The teams took around ten minutes to prep for the match, double checking their brooms and going over their strategies.

“So, this match must be tough for you,” Prisha stated. Her attention was still on Violet.

“Why is that?” Sophie asked, looking over at her.

“Because you have stakes in both teams. Do you cheer for your house and your friend..." Prisha gestured to the right side of the field that had Hufflepuff, “Or do you cheer for your boyfriend?” Her other hand pointed towards Marlon.

“Well, actually this is one of the easier matches to cheer for. I just cheer for both sides. It’s a win-win for me either way.”

Prisha looked disappointed by the answer. “I was hoping for a more interesting response.”

“Sorry, Prisha, I guess I’m not that interesting of a person.” She leaned back in her seat. “Although Marlon and I do have a bet going on. If Gryffindor wins I buy him a butter beer and if Hufflepuff wins he buys me one.”

“So you do have a side you want to win!” Prisha exclaimed.

“Nope, I’m fine if I end up buying Marlon a butter beer. He always seems happy after a win. It’s really cute.” Sophie’s smile grew as she spoke.

Before Prisha could comment the whistle had been blown, signaling the beginning of the match. The two teams got on their broomsticks, flying through the air as they got into their positions. Marlon stood in front of the posts, ready to help his team by being the best keeper he could be. On the other side of the field Violet hung back, floating in the air and waiting for when her role was necessary as the seeker.

The ball was thrown in the air and both teams' chasers flew forward. Gryffindor got there first. Its fastest chaser cut through the air as he dodged the upcoming Hufflepuffs. Swinging his arm, he threw the ball, whizzing it past the keeper and into the goal. The Gryffindor stand erupted with cheers as the announcer declared that the first ten points belonged to Gryffindor. Hufflepuff was given the ball which they proceeded to pass around, the chasers confusing the other team in the process. Prisha and Sophie cheered, watching for the opening. When it appeared, the Hufflepuffs threw the ball. Marlon swiftly flew in front of the ball, hitting it away with his broomstick.

“Good block Marlon!” Sophie yelled, her hands cupped around her mouth. Some of the other Hufflepuffs look annoyed at her for cheering for the enemy.

Gryffindor tried to extend their lead but failed as one of the beaters threw them off their groove. Soon another opponent stood in front of Marlon. Their quick movements threw him off and caused him to lose his team the lead. Sophie felt torn on what she should do but soon decided to cheer for Hufflepuff and shout words of encouragement to Marlon. The match kept being pretty even thanks to both of the keepers who threw their bodies around to block their opponents' attacks and scored points for their team.

The match seemed to be at a standstill until a sudden blur flew through the air. The golden snitch fluttered back and forth, taunting the seekers. Violet sped through the sky, her broomstick steadily pursuing the snitch. The Gryffindor seeker wasn’t far behind it either, ramming against Violet and trying to get the sliver of an advantage to win the game. Violet pushed back, causing the seeker to stumble slightly. Her attention drew back to the snitch. Her eyes widened when she realized it was cutting through some of the other players. Slowly Violet stood up on her broomstick, her focus completely on the timing of her next move. When she drew near a player she launched herself up, jumping over their head before landing back on her broomstick.

Prisha let out a sigh of relief. Sophie looked over towards her with a sympathetic smile. She didn’t know how Prisha could deal with the intensity of dating someone who was a seeker. They had the riskiest position in the entire game.

Violet's grasp tightened while she dove down to reach the snitch. Outstretching her hand, she snatched the snitch.

“Yes!” Prisha exclaimed, jumping up to her feet. “Way to go, Vi!”

Violet’s hand that held the snitch shot up in the air. Her team quickly joined her side. The captain ruffled Violet’s hair as the rest congratulated her, letting out cheers at their victory. As soon as the game was over, Prisha and Sophie made their way down to the field.

Prisha ran over to Violet, sweeping her up in a hug. “You were amazing, Violet!”

Violet returned the hug, her face growing hot as she pulled back. Her hand rubbed the back of her neck. “Thanks.”

“Well, I guess I lost the bet.” Marlon said, making his way over to Sophie.

“It looks like you did. But you were awesome today! All those blocks were impressive, especially the last one.” Sophie took his hand in hers; her face had a warm smile on it. “Looks like I have quite the keeper.”

Marlon’s face blushed at those words. He leaned forward, placing a small kiss on her cheek. “Well, wanna head over to Hogsmeade and grab some butter beers?”

“I’d love to.”

---

The two snuck through Hogwarts until they got to the hidden spot that held a secret passage to Hogsmeade that Aasim had discovered. They slowly made their way through it, their hands swaying back and forth as they talked. When they had arrived at Hogsmeade, they immediately went over to their destination.

“What can I get for you?” The barkeeper asked.

“Two butter beers please.” Marlon replied, displaying his coins before placing them on the counter.

The barkeeper slid the coins towards him. He then produced two large glasses of the buttery, sweet drink. Marlon and Sophie thanked him before making their way to a table.

“Here’s to winning the bet.” Marlon raised his glass.

“Hear hear!” Sophie raised her own. Clinking their mugs together, the pair proceeded to take a large swig of their drinks before slamming their mugs down on the table with satisfaction.

“I’m gonna win the bet next time.” Marlon declared, a foamy moustache on his lips from the drink.

“We'll just have to wait and see.” Sophie said playfully, a foamy moustache on her own face.

The two burst out laughing, giggling as they pointed at each other's moustaches. Marlon and Sophie felt their hearts fill with happiness. It was always so much fun whenever they were together.

[squirrelly831]

Rap Battle [Mark, Jaebum, and Jackson]

Enjoy~

Mark

One thing Mark prided himself on was his rapping. He knew he wasn’t the best of the best, but her though he was relatively good. Even his girlfriend, Tatiana, constantly encourage him and his rapping as it was something she loved to hear whenever Got7 had a comeback.

However, Tatiana had a secret she didn’t share with anyone and that was that she posted covers on a youtube page and a lot of it was rap. Until one day, Bambam went to her apartment to surprise her with a video game he wanted to play with her. He entered the apartment to hear her rapping and he ran into her bedroom to see her recording a cover. Bambam was shocked to say the least, but complimented her as he thought she sounded better than her own boyfriend. Tatiana brushed off his compliment with a laugh and thought nothing about her secret getting out to one of her best friends. At least not until a weekend at Got7′s dorm.

She was relaxing on the couch with Mark’s arm around her shoulders. The others were around the room either reading or playing games or just simply chatting. At least until Bambam suggested to do a rap battle with a smirk plastered on his face earning a glare from Tatiana. However, as the boys all agreed, she couldn’t help but agree…

Tatiana was going first and Bambam made sure she went against her boyfriend, Mark. The rest of the group, minus Bambam, placed wagers on Mark winning which ignited the competitive side. Now she had to prove she was a force to be reckoned with.

They both picked an instrumental of a rap song and Mark gave her a sympathetic look. “I’ll try not to make your defeat too terrible.” Mark’s song played first and he did his rap earning cheers and claps from the members.

Tatiana smirked as she met Bambam’s glance. They shared a smile as she she waited for her song to start. Their clapping ceased almost immediately as the guys’, including Mark’s, mouths dropped in shock.

After her rap came to an end, it was obvious who the winner was and the guys reluctantly forked over their money to Bambam. “How’d you know my girl could rap?” Mark asked suspiciously.

Bambam pocketed the money with a grin, “Lucky guess.” Tatiana and him shared a smug look and gave a nod. Their secret was going to be kept between them.

Jaebum

Kyungja had a crush on Jaebum and it was fairly obvious to everyone except Jaebum. With how obvious she had been, she was so sure that he didn’t like her back and was simply trying to let her off without telling her to her face. However, it was quite the contrary. He liked Kyungja too, but didn’t pursue it. Being a leader of a group, he didn’t have the luxury to date while being responsible for his members and the tours.

Sick of the back and forth with the two, the boys decided to try to do something to get them to open up. Jackson recommended a rap battle. It wasn’t that they would take the whole thing seriously, but it would help break the tension the two have been releasing for the past several weeks.

When told the idea, Kyungja was unsure about it. “I can’t even rap. Why would I do that.”

“If you win, you could ask him for whatever you want” Jackson whispered in her ear. She hit him as a blush formed on her cheeks.

“Hyung, if you win, you can ask her on a date” Yugyeom insisted.

“Fine…”

After getting the two to agree, they were moved to stand in front of one another with their friends lingering close by. The two of them looked at each other both flustered from their friends and they let out awkward laughs. Kyungja bit her lip as they took a coin to see who went first and  when it landed it on heads Kyungja let out a sigh of relief.

Ultimately, Kyungja ended up losing and she let out a laugh, “Of course I’d lose.” She shook her head, “So what would the winner like as a prize?”

Jaebum responded without hesitation, “A date.” The guys and Kyungja looked at him in shock. The guys didn’t think he would have actually asked her out. Jaebum had a determined look on his face as he looked at her. “Will you? Go on a date with me?”

Kyungja let out a breath as she smiled, “Yea!” She ran her hand in her hair, “I’d love that.”

Jackson

Melissa and Jackson were like oil and water. They never mix and could not be in the same room without arguing. Honestly, the boys were sick of it. She was a close friend with Mark and through him she became friends with the others. With their arguing, the boys had thought about ways to stop their arguing and one that didn’t go too great was locking them in his bedroom. It lead to more fights and screaming. The boys were at their wits end until Mark decided to step in.

“A rap battle?” Melissa scoffed, “Why’d I do that?”

Jackson smirked, “Yea, why do that when she knows she’ll lose to me?”

She shot up from her spot on the sofa, “You wanna say that again, prick?”

“Gladly” Jackson got up from the ground with his chest out. He eyed her as he repeated his words, “Why do that when she knows she’ll lose to me?”

“You know what” she nodded her head as she pressed her tongue to her cheek to keep from swinging at him. “Fine. Let’s do this. Winner can make the loser do whatever they want.”

His lips curved as if he had already won, “You’re on. Princess.” The others watched the two before they looked at one another with a fearful expression. They didn’t know how this was going to go.

Melissa should have known not to take the bet. Not when she couldn’t rap and was against a rapper. She clicked her tongue and with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, she crossed her arms and glanced at him. “Fine, you won. Now what do you want?”

He approached her with a smirk on his face, but as he stood just feet before her it slipped from his lips. He cleared his throat. “Go on a date with me” he said unexpectedly catching everyone off guard.

“Excuse me Wang?”

“That’s what I want. A date.” She eyed him suspiciously unable to figure out his angle he was playing at. His eyes were dark with his seriousness, “You can’t say no to me on this. I did beat you after all.”

She shot him a glare before she let out an exasperated sigh, “Fine.” His lips pulled to an open mouth smiled. He said nothing as he walked out of the room and headed to his bedroom leaving everyone still hung up on the events.

Part II || Part III

Credit to gif owners

Written & revamped by Squirrelly831

♕ REQUEST

☮ GOT7 MASTERLIST

∞ ULTIMATE MASTERLIST

[sparkstar-trash]

4 Time Deadpool Met Peter +1 Time Spider-man Met Wade

Summary: I watched him out of the corner of my eye. I felt almost guilty; of course he would act different around me. I wasn’t Spider-man, I was just some kid he had randomly found on a rooftop at night. It would be nice to banter more with him like Spidey and he did, though.

Peter keeps on meeting Deadpool in weird and wonderful places and has no idea why he keeps on coming around.

At least he's great company...

Written for Spideypool Prompt Bang 2018!

Words: 3814

A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15409482

1.

It was a quiet night.

For me they tended to be rare, but for once I was sitting on the edge of a building watching the twinkling lights rather than swinging around looking for trouble.

I couldn’t see any stars past the pollution but I didn't really mind. Watching over the city I protected (or at least tried to) and just looking at it was almost... meditative.

Maybe it was the finals getting to me, maybe it was the weight of what I do. For some reason I had ended up here without my Spider-man suit: I had left it behind in my dorm. Even if I wanted to go help someone right now, I couldn't.

It left an anxious feeling at the bottom of my stomach, threatening to eat me alive with guilt, but for once I did my best to ignore it and just be in the moment. If I was really desperate, home was only a building away.

And for some reason, just letting myself sit in the here and now felt ok.

So when I heard a thump behind me, it’s safe to say I didn’t nearly scream. Nor did I turn around too quickly and lose my balance.

That wasn’t at all how I ended up with a red and black mask in my face, a hand  gripping my shirt so tight it was threatening to rip, and my heart pounding out of my chest while I hung with only one foot connected to the roof, the rest of me out in mid-air.

Nope, not at all.

There was a pause that went on for way too long. It gave me ample time to figure out that not only had I nearly fallen off a roof in civvies, I had been rescued by none other than… Deadpool.

And just when I thought my night couldn’t get any better.

It just had to be now while I was relaxed that my powers, for whatever reason, weren't going to work and not tell me there was a certain red spandexed anti-hero behind me .

Ugh.

He was definitely studying me , too. I really wasn’t sure what he would see. I mean, at the moment, I was just… Peter. An average looking guy, with boring features that made me blend into any crowd. The nerd who could solve a math question at a glance but couldn't do anything socially to save their life. Maybe he was observing the bags under my eyes? The wide-eyed look I was giving him as I grabbed on to him for dear life?

Wait, I was holding on to his shoulders like we were having- NOPE NOPE NOPE.

You never really knew with Deadpool. Was he oblivious, or playing it up as he stared at you? Was he thinking of all the ways he could kill you or was he about to hug you and squeal about how big of a fan he was? Wait: he wouldn't do that with civvy me... still.

“Uh… Deadpool?” I whispered, not daring to speak above a murmur. What if he startled and dropped me? If he did I would have to use at least some of my powers and then everything would be blown.

This was why I went everywhere with my suit, so that when Deadpool or the villain of the day or other superheroes turned up at least I knew what to say and do. Social things were hard! Spidey just made it easier.

He seemed to snap out of whatever he was thinking and pulled me back on to solid ground. I stumbled a bit, keeping my grip on Deadpool’s arm as I rebalanced before sitting down.

Why did my legs feel like jelly? I was a superhero who dealt with heights all the time.  It definitely wasn’t because of Deadpool, nope. I refused to think that. (It totally was because of him… I loved it hated it). It was probably because I had been closer to having my secret identity blown than I had been for... couple days.

Yeah, that was right, because a neighbour had peeked out the window just as I climbed in and man, that had sent my heart rate soaring. But the guy was practically blind and had needed to grab glasses, and by that time I was already inside.

Secret identities sucked...

“What are you doing up here, baby boy?” He asked me, an almost fake cheerfulness to his voice as he rocked back and forth. “Haven’t you heard? Heights are a massive killer now-a-days and a cute thing like you should stay well away!”

“Um… I was… I was just-” Words, now was a good time to work.

“How old even are you? Do I need to send you home to your parents?” He interrupted my stuttering, tilting his head in an innocent gesture. I could tell he was still studying me though.

It definitely didn't make my already flushed face get redder. Nope. It was just from the cold...?

“What- no! I’m in college!”

“Sure you are kid, with a face like that one would think you’re-” he danced forward, leaning in almost uncomfortably close, “-a dancing queen! Young and sweet, only seventeen~!”

I shoved him away, “Dude I’m twenty-three.”

“No one’s too old for Abba!” He sniffed, wiping a fake tear out of his eye. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Or rub the back of my neck.

“Do you... do you want something?” I asked, turning around to go stand back by the edge.

He grabbed my arm and I resisted the urge to swat him off. “Woah hold on there kiddo, let's not get on edge now, yeah?”

I turned to face him, raising an eyebrow, “What do you mean by that?”

He seemed to glance between me and the side of the building. “You weren’t planning on jumping, by any chance?”

I flinched away from him and he let go of me, “The hell? No! I was just clearing my head.”

For once he actually looked ashamed, which made me blink in surprise. I had never seen that from him, not ever as Spider-man. It… it made me want to study him more, like he had been doing to me. Man, now would be a good time to have him unmasked. Then I could look at his eyes, his jawline, his lips, his nose, the way those features shifted and changed when he told a joke- wait, hold up.

“Oh, sorry. Anyway, baby boy, wanna sit down and rock out to some AC/DC?”

He seemed to have bounced back from his shame, at least.

“Eh, why not.”

I went to the edge and leaned back, trying to relax again as I had been before Deadpool came along. He, instead of sitting like a normal person, laid down with his head almost in my lap fiddling on his phone. A few moments later “Back in Black” was playing quietly.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye. I felt almost guilty; of course he would act different around me. I wasn’t Spider-man, I was just some kid he had randomly found on a rooftop at night. It would be nice to banter more with him like Spidey and he did, though.

And he was so… quiet. Well, arguably, he could never be quiet quiet. But when compared to his normal Spider-man interactions… yeah, there was a difference.

Why was that?

I tried to get it out of my mind. This line of thinking would only send me into circles. And it would probably be depressing. So I tried to focus back in on my surroundings.

The quiet music helped.

"Hey, do you think the guy who named Uranus knew what he was doing?" Wade spoke up out of the blue, nearly causing me to jump.

...

You know what, nevermind. Deadpool did whatever he wanted to do. I was in no position to try and figure him out like a puzzle.

Why did I want to so much anyway?

"Uh, I don't know. Probably. Did you see that news article about how Uranus 'opens and closes' or something?" I said conversationally.

He tilted his head weirdly so he was looking up at me from his position lying down. "Now there's some scientists, or at least a journalist-reporter-person, who knows how to have a good time!"

2.

It was a few weeks later as I studied for my finals when there was a loud noise behind me. I was on the roof again, trying to find a quiet place to work on everything but...

When I looked back there was Deadpool, standing with a big paper bag in his hands and his arms outstretched like a gymnast after they've done a trick.

"Baby Boy! What a surprise!" He called gleefully as he came over and sat beside me.

I was definitely surprised: I had thought that meeting a couple weeks back was going to be a one time deal. Apparently not.

I… didn’t mind hanging out with him again?

I put all my stuff down to the right of me as Deadpool came over to my left. I raised my eyebrow, "Baby boy?"

He cooed, "You don't stare in the mirror enough, you’re a one-hundred-percent certified twink!"

I blinked a few times but decided to brush it off, put it in a box and never deal with it. "What have you got in that bag?"

He leaned in closer. "Take a guess."

I hummed. "Chimichangas?"

"You've been talking to Spidey, haven't you!" Oh, had he figured out I was 'Spidey's official photographer?' "Nah, don't tell him but I only like them for their name. It's burgers!"

“Why would I be talking to Spider-man?” I asked, wondering just how much he knew.

“You’re his official photographer for the Daily Bugle. Wouldn’t you talk to him sometimes?”

“I, um, yeah I guess. On occasion.”

Not a lie, really?

He sighed, “Man, I hope we can share a burger in the future.”

Why wouldn’t he just do what he did with me right now and drop in at some random time? Did he think Spidey would judge him or something? I had thought he and Spider-man were close enough that he would feel safe to talk about anything with me. You would think with how much he talked he wouldn't even care about what Spidey thought.

And wow, I was not two separate people: Spidey was me and I was Spidey. Two sides of the same coin or something.

"Earth to Petey-pie?" Wade said sing-songy, waving the hand with the bag in front of my face.

I blinked. Blinked again. "Wait, how do you know my name?"

He chuckled and shook his head like I had told him a joke. I really didn't want to think about if he had been stalking me, so I didn't ask.

After his giggling fest he grabbed out a burger and we both sat down in the same spot as last time. I determinedly stared off into the city while Deadpool talked about everything from politicians and which ones he really wanted to murder but wouldn't, to his favourite duck species.

I listened, but not too hard because I got whiplash from how often topics changed with him around. You think it's serious one minute, then suddenly he’s talking about shoe sizes.

But to be fair he wasn't 'serious' all that often. Maybe once or twice when a big fight had gotten more intense. Other than that, he never was. He seemed more relaxed around Peter me, anyway.

Which was par for the course. Of course the dynamic would change between Spidey and him, and Peter and him.

I didn't want to think about why, but I was hoping that the tension had more to do with stage fright or something. He had said before that Spidey was his idol...

"You know, you're a pretty good listener." Deadpool said after finishing his fifth burger.

I was still on my second, though normally I could be on my tenth by now. I couldn't reveal that I was Spidey, so no bottomless-pit stomachs were allowed right now. Even if it was getting ready to loudly protest that decision.

"... Thanks. It's... you're pretty knowledgeable? I guess? I wouldn't know how to tell an ants gender without you." I stuttered out.

He grinned. "I would have thought you would be more talkative than me."

I frowned, "What? Why?"

He waved a hand dismissively, "Don't worry about it. C'mon, tell me all about whatever project you're doing in college."

"Uh, well it's not all that interesting really compared to some of the other stuff I've done-"

"Baby boy, tell me about those then. I want to get to know you!"

He seemed sincere? Why would he want to get to know me? Should I even worry about his interest in me? Nah, brushing it under the rug and dealing with it later sounded far better.

"Okay, well, um we're focusing on-"

3.

When I went to the laundromat sometime around two or three am one night a week later, I hadn't expected to see a certain masked man fiddling on his phone. Nor did I expect to find him in normal clothes - even if it still covered him from head to toe.

There wasn’t any skintight red and black suit visible, except for his mask. It was the only way I figured out it was him in the first place: Deadpool wasn’t exactly a popular person to cosplay.

I guess that had made me freeze just a bit too long because Deadpool looked up and we both ended up looking like deer in the headlights.

Well, I couldn't be one-hundred percent certain. He was wearing a mask, but he definitely tensed up.

This was awkward.

So, as usual, ignoring the giant pink elephant stampeding around the room and throwing crap up into the fans, I walked over to the furthest corner away from Deadpool.

Which was only thirty feet from where he was sitting.

Honestly, why couldn't the real estate in here be large enough that neither of us had to watch the elephant trumpet around like a bastard?

“You come around these parts often?” Deadpool piped up, making me startle hard enough to fumble the shirt I had been holding. I gave him a glare for good measure.

“Yeah, turns out I’m a broke college student who can’t afford to get an apartment with a laundry room. Who knew?” I said, focusing back on sorting and putting everything into the right washing machines.

“I could fix that!”

“Going to ignore that. Hey, do you have any detergent?” I asked.

A moment later I had to suppress my instincts to whip around and grab the packet out of thin air and instead let it hit my back. I grabbed it before it could hit the floor though and continued to ignore Deadpool.

That wasn’t so successful anymore once I had turned both of my machines on. I had nothing to distract either of us.

Which meant he had no reason not to bother me.

“Pass that quiz?” Deadpool asked, sitting on one of the washing machines so he was hovering uncomfortably behind me and swinging his legs around.

“Yep.”

“Score?”

“Um, ninety-seven.”

“Cool, cool. Did you know that I never went to college?”

“Not surprised.”

He made an interested noise when I grabbed out a large textbook from my bag. Before he could ask I explained, “It’s just on chemistry.”

“Ah, my little nerd, if only you had glasses.” He sighed dreamily.

“Yeah, yeah, woe is you. Why are you even here if you’re rich?” I asked absently.

He stiffened and I raised an eyebrow. “...Reasons?” He finally said.

“Mhm, hope you’re not planning on killing me or something because I won’t look forward to washing the blood out.”

“Of your clothes or mine?” He said cheekly.

“Nah, the janitor’s clothes.”

He broke out into loud laughter and I realised I was smiling along with him. “Baby boy! Who knew you were this witty?”

“Your mom did.”

He stopped and turned to stare at me, “Seriously? Your mom jokes?”

I shrugged, “I’m running out of material, it’s like three am right now I’m too tired for this.”

He paused, muttered something under his breath before he seemed to make a decision. He stood up with a determined stride and picked me up bridal-style.

“Wha- hey!” I protested, freezing up too much to push myself out of his arms.

“Don’t worry, Baby Boy! You’re going home right now!” He proclaimed.

I tried to look over his shoulder as he began to walk out of the place. “Wait! What about my clothes?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll deal with them. They’ll be beside your bed when you wake up!”

I tried not to think too hard about if there was a Spider-man suit amongst my washing, and forced myself to just try and accept what was happening. This was Deadpool after all… but I still wasn’t quite sure why it had been so easy to give in.

I decided to blame it on not having to do any more work for the night.

4.

At this point, I wasn't sure why I was surprised.

I had been running towards the villain of the day, camera swinging wildly with each step, when something tugged me back, hoisted me up into the air and over a shoulder, and began running away from the battle with me.

I looked down to see a familiar red clad ass - wait maybe I shouldn't know it well enough to know who it was at a glance. Deadpool was carrying me fireman-style to safety.

Uh, well then.

"Deadpool, what are you doing?" I asked in a calm voice that definitely didn't match my brain that had more or less gone into a blue screen of death.

"Can't let my little daredevil get hurt!" He said cheerfully.

"Believe it or not I don't wear a red skin tight suit with horns," I quipped and he snorted. "Now can we go back? I kinda need money from the pictures so I can eat."

"Don't worry about that, I'll feed you," he said, way too finally for me.

Hi, blue screen of death, did you bring your friend denial along with you?

I shook myself out of my shock. “What if I want to feed myself?”

“Well then I’ll supply the money. It’s pretty simple really!” He exclaimed.

I took a moment, paused, processed, and then facepalmed. “You want to be my sugar daddy or something?”

“I thought I wasn’t being subtle enough, really!”

I drowned out of the rest of what he said, instead just focusing on not thinking about how my suit might be showing because my shirt was definitely riding up on me.

Honestly, why was my life like this?

I never ended up getting to the fight, cause apparently Deadpool knew me well enough by now to lock everything up in the bathroom he chucked me in and I did not feel like breaking public property that day.

+1

At this point I didn’t know why I did half the things I did.

I was still Spider-man after all these years even though it had left me dirt poor and closer to death more times than anyone except other superheroes had ever been.

So I didn’t know why I was on the same roof I meet Deadpool the first and second time.

And I didn’t know why I was in my Spider-man suit.

And I especially didn’t know why I had decided to come clean to him about Peter being me and Spiderman being me.

It was loneliness and a longing to actually confide in someone who couldn’t die.

Everyone who knew died.

But if he couldn’t…

Life would probably find another way to do it.

I would just hope that he wasn’t just joking around when he gave me food and helped me with washing. I really missed having friends in my life.

I idly swung my legs as I sat in “Peter’s” usual spot. I would probably have my best chance at finding him here, because surprisingly enough, mercenaries tended to be hard to find if they didn’t want to be found.

A part of me wanted to endlessly fret over telling him, but mostly I felt numb. Resigned to my choice the same way I was with being Spider-man.

Logically, yes, I could put down the suit at any time and build my way up on an easier path. But that wasn’t me: I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing that there might be a person getting shot to death because I wasn’t there.

And this decision was just like that. When I saw him, I would tell him.

He might abandon me, he might fangirl, he might do any number of things. I was prepared for it.

Probably.

An hour later after, surprisingly, I hadn’t had to save anyone, there was a thump behind me. I glanced back and spotted Deadpool standing there frozen, a paper bag in his hands.

“Hey,” I said softly, maybe too quietly.

If he noticed my nerves he did not comment.

“Spidey? What are you doing here?” He asked, slowly approaching me as if he was giving himself time to size me up.

“Hanging out. The usual. Actually I wanted to talk to you.” I quickly said before I could hesitate.

He swooned dramatically, “Lil’ ol’ me? Oh my!”

I rolled my eyes at his antics. “It’s… something important.”

That made him sober up and come sit down next to me. “You know I’ll help you with anything, right Spidey?”

“Yep.” And that was true. He had proven to me more than once that he was willing to listen and act when I asked. I couldn’t really see why everyone seemed to hate him so much.

I rubbed at the back of my neck, fingers catching on the mask.

“Um… if I… told you my identity, would you keep it a secret?” I said quietly.

He sighed. “Yes I would, Peter.”

…

“Wha-”

“For a superhero as famous as you are, you really suck at keeping it a secret.”

“But-- you-- I--”

He smirked. “You shouldn’t do your laundry at a laundromat, some people, like me, might just see some red and blue and connect the dots.”

I buried my head in my hands, “I’m a horrible superhero.”

“Nah, you’re just a dork. A cute dork. A broke dork. One who should move in with me and let me help him up onto his feet.” He said, and even through the mask I could tell he was smiling.

I sighed in defeat. “I give up. Sure, why not.”

Let’s just say someone a few streets over yelled at us because of how loud he squealed.

[georgecostanzaatemysoup]

My only excuse for this is... copious amounts of Dr. Pepper. Thank you for reading :)

AO3

Beau picks the flowers on a whim. Grabbing their stems, yanking them out of somebody’s garden, ignoring the woman screaming at her from behind the laundry she’d been hanging up. They’re blue and purple, they match Yasha’s eyes, and she likes this shit.

“They’re gonna die anyway,” Beau yells over her shoulder, rolling her eyes when the woman flips her off. “Real mature, lady!” She sticks her own middle finger up. “I can do it, too!”

The woman’s shouts start to fade when Beau turns the corner and by the time she gets back to the inn she’s no longer a concern. She shoves the door open, stalking across the room towards the table Caleb and Yasha are occupying. She flicks Caleb’s ear, snickering when he glares at her, and drops into the seat next to Yasha.

“Here,” she says, practically shoving the flowers at her.

Surprised, Yasha takes the flowers gently in her big hands. “Uh, thank you?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Beau lies, shrugging nonchalantly. “I saw them, knew you like this shit, so yeah.” She looks down at her nails, sneaking furtive looks at Yasha, smirking when she sees a shy smile on her face.

Caleb coughs softly, getting to his feet, and says, “I think I will go find Nott.” He shoots Beau some constipated look and walks out of the inn, book tucked protectively under his arm. Before the door closes, Beau watches him park his ass on the steps, and she barely holds back a snort.

“He didn’t make it far,” she comments, nodding towards the closed door.

Yasha nods absentmindedly, already placing the flowers in her notebook, along with the flowers Nott gave her and some feathers Jester picked up the other day.

Beau watches her for a moment before saying, “There’s a tavern not far from here.”

“Yes, I saw it,” Yasha responds, closing her notebook and tucking it away in her bag.

“The place looks like you could get a blowjob in the back alleyway, but it’s got booze.” She shrugs, leaning back in her chair, rocking back and forth. “Wanna check it out?”

Yasha looks up, meeting Beau’s eyes, and says, “Uh, yeah, I guess we could do that.”

Beau feels her stomach sink a little and quickly says, “Look, you don’t have to...”

“No, I want to,” Yasha replies pointedly and Beau nods.

“Okay, yeah okay.” The legs of her chair slam back into the floor and she stands up. “We’ll go tonight, you and me.”

“Okay.”

She moves towards the inn’s front entrance, shoving it open, startling Caleb. “Nott’s shopping with Jester.”

“I know,” he answers softly, annoyance flashing in his eyes. It’s not Beau’s fault he didn’t even try to find Nott.

“Kinda hard to find her when you’re sitting out here.”

He gives her a tired sigh but stands up, nodding. “I think I’ll go join them.”

“Are you going to make it that far?”

She hears him mutter something in Zemnian, too quiet for her to even attempt to make out, and watches him walk away. She thinks about calling out to him, but decides it’s not worth it and shuts the door.

The tavern’s sign hangs haphazardly from above the door, swinging lazily from the chain. Beau turns her head, squinting at the words, and says, “The Last Stop? That’s not ominous in the slightest.”

Yasha touches the hilt of her sword. “I’d like to see them try anything.”

Beau smirks, looking up at her, and says, “You’ve never been hotter to me.”

Red creeping across her neck, Yasha heads towards the door and Beau follows on her heels, grinning. She pulls the door open, allowing Beau to enter the tavern first, and follows her inside.

The interior of the tavern reflects the exterior, the place dim, dirty, and not very busy. There are a few half-orcs sitting in the corner, playing some card game, their table littered with copper coins and empty mugs. At the bar sits two gnomes having a heated discussion in Gnomish, the smaller of the two clutching tightly to a bottle of something that’s purple and smoking. Near the door, sitting alone and hooded, is a dwarf who turns his head at Beau and Yasha’s entrance but slowly looks back down at his ale in disinterest.

“Lively place,” Beau comments and heads towards the bar.

A stooped, wizened half-elf greets her with a grunt and a nod. Beau leans against the counter and asks, “Do you have anything that doesn’t taste like piss?”

The half-elf stares at her for a long moment before turning around and filling up two mugs with some greenish stuff from a round bottle. He turns back around, setting both on the counter. “Six copper.”

“I’ve got this,” Yasha says before Beau can reach for any coins, handing the copper over to the bar keep.

Beau gives the drinks a distasteful look, but still picks hers up and takes a experimental drink. Surprisingly, it isn’t too bad and she pulls out a couple more coppers. “Keep this stuff coming.”

The half-elf nods, his grunt a little more friendly this time, and he scoops the coin off the counter. Beau turns back to Yasha, giving her a thumbs up, and says, “Think I made a friend.”

Amused, Yasha shakes her head. “Let’s find a table.”

They end up near the half-orcs, the small group goodnaturedly arguing over the game in Orcish. Beau wonders if Fjord knows any of these guys but stops herself mid-thought because that’s unlikely just because he’s a half-orc. She turns her attention to Yasha, who has already drained her mug of green crap, gesturing to the barkeep to bring her another.

“Hold up, let me catch up,” Beau says, gulping hers as quickly as she can, and slams the mug down next to Yasha’s. “You do not wanna challenge me to a drinking game, my friend. I’ll drink you under the table.”

A challenging smile creeps across Yasha’s face. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Bring it on, babe.”

When the half-elf brings over two more mugs of that green stuff, both Yasha and Beau dig into their bags for more gold, handing two each over to him, and they say, “Bring the bottle.”

“That doesn’t count,” Beau exclaims, words slurring a little, a grin plastered across her face, practically kneeling on the table. “Most of it dribbled down your chin!”

“Fuck you, it counts,” Yasha retorts without any heat, wiping her chin. She reaches for the bottle, frowning when she finds it empty. “Fuck.”

“I know!” Beau looks over at the half-elf, waving her hand. “Do you have any more of this stuff?”

He looks over at them, eyes narrowed, but grunts and disappears into a small room near the back. He returns a moment later, carrying a dusty, round bottle and sets it on their table.

Without counting the coins, Yasha drops a handful on the counter and says, “Keep it.”

The half-elf leans over their table and gruffly mutters, “I’d be careful throwing your coin around in here.” He straightens up, taking Yasha’s money, and walks back towards the bar.

Beau sits back in her chair, suddenly aware of the half-orcs who have been shooting them furtive looks all night; of the dwarf who still hasn’t moved from his spot near the door. The only customers no longer in the tavern are the two gnomes, both having left in a huff an hour ago, but even they had been watching the two women closely all night.

“Wanna take that bottle and get out of here?” she asks curiously, nodding towards the dusty, green alcohol sitting on their table.

“If you’d like.”

The two stand up, Beau putting the bottle in her bag, and they start towards the door. Their steps slow when the dwarf gets to his feet, hand going towards the short sword at his belt.

Beau smirks at Yasha, quirking an eyebrow, and turns back to the dwarf. “You try swinging that at me and I will lay your ass out on this floor.” She feels Yasha stir behind her, her hand brushing against her lower back; a silent I’ve got your back.

They hear chairs scrape across the floor, the half-orcs getting to their feet, and Beau’s smirk turns shark like. She rolls her shoulders, drawing in a steady breath, and says, “This is gonna be fun.”

The tavern is in shambles, broken chairs and tables everywhere, shattered glass, coins and cards scattered across the floor, but their bottle of booze survives. Yasha takes the dwarf’s short sword and breaks it over her knee, tossing it into a corner, while Beau holds the guy against the wall with her staff.

“You wanna end up like your friends?” she asks, nodding back at the unconscious half-orcs, sniffing a wad of blood up into her nose and feeling it slide down her throat. “Because I have no problem choking your ass out.”

The dwarf shakes his head, eyes darting towards Yasha lurking over Beau’s shoulder, and Beau gives him a smug smile. “Good. Get your ass out of here.” She releases him, kicking him in the ass as he scrambles out of the tavern, and turns back to grin at Yasha.

“Hooooly shit.”

Yasha nods, wiping blood out of her eyes, looking back at the mess they’ve made. She tries to find the barkeep, but he disappeared upstairs when the fighting started. “Should we leave him some money?”

“Nah, let’s go.” Beau turns towards the door but stops, hanging her head, sighing softly. She looks back at the mess. “I guess we can try to clean up a little.”

“Just go!” the half-elf calls down from his hiding place.

“Just trying to help!” Beau calls back as Yasha grabs her hand and pulls her out of the tavern.

They’re around the corner when Beau realizes Yasha hasn’t let her go of her hand. She looks down at her dark hand wrapped tightly in Yasha’s pale one, and Yasha follows her gaze, her face flushing. She releases Beau’s hand, muttering an apology.

“It didn’t bother me,” Beau says shrugging.

“Are you sure?”

“Wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t.”

Accepting the answer, Yasha leans against the wall, crossing her arms tightly against her chest, nodding slowly. “Tonight, it was fun.”

“Hell yeah,” Beau says rubbing her nose with the back of her hand, smearing blood across her skin, wincing in pain. “I think my nose is broken.”

Yasha uncrosses her arms, leaning towards Beau, studying her nose. “It doesn’t look broken.”

“You sure?” Beau shifts her head even closer to Yasha’s. “Might wanna look closer. Just to be sure.”

Yasha moves another few inches, one hand coming up to gently touch her nose, murmuring, “It looks fine.”

“Uh-huh.” Beau closes the small gap between them, kissing Yasha softly, backing her into the wall. Yasha’s hands linger near her face for a second before she gently cradles her head between them.

Beau pulls back first, giving Yasha a suggestive grin. “Ever have sex in a dirty alleyway?”

Yasha shrugs, pupils blown, hands already reaching for Beau again. “Once, but I’m up for it again.”

“Excellent.”

[vesperlionheart]

Tam Lin

Sakura rolled the bead shaped pebble under her toe back and forth, feeling but not seeing it. Her eyes were hazy and unfocused as she stared into the amber liquid of her drink. Half of it was gone but it felt like if she tipped it over the beer would flow forever. She was already light from it.

There was a shadow that passed over her and then the seat across from her creaked from the weight of the visitor. She lifted her eyes and blinked until the vision in front of her came into focus. What she saw made her grin out of the side of her mouth.

“Oh, I had heard the royal brothers of a far off land were visiting to court the sisters of whirlpool, but I didn’t think I would see one here in this little hole in the wall.”

Sakura blinked and looked up at the window to the outside. She could see the sign hanging but couldn’t remember what the words meant. Her vision was blurred and she had to blink again to see better.

“He’s been looking for you. Have you heard?” Itachi asked.

“Hmm?”

Sakura blinked and kept her eyes closed while she adjusted her posture in the seat. The places where her skin was stitched back together were all still sore. Not even a single one felt better and it had been days. She always healed slower during the New Moon nights.  

“It’s the whole reason we’re out here this far, since there was some business concerning children going missing near the moors. One of the wise women said it was fair folk business and that’s all he needed to hear.”

“Kelpie aren’t fair folk, technically speaking. They’re beasts… sentient beasts, but they just want to eat pretty tasty things.” Sakura’s eyes couldn’t focus and she felt the pebble crack under her toe when she sat up again. “But that’s beside the point, because the moors are plenty of miles west of here and there are a dozen different bars like this one you could have wandered into. What are you doing here?”

“Fifteen.”

She blinked. “What?”

“There are fifteen bars of this par and quality in the city. I’ve been to all of them.”

Sakura hummed. “I thought it was odd that all the princes were going out together to do this courting business like a big happy family, but I can guess better now. You’re the brains, aren’t you? Madara isn’t stupid but he’s sheltered, which is sometimes worse. He wouldn’t know how to find a person without his nose.”

Itachi reached out and grabbed a tankard off the tray that passed him by and when the table maid turned to tell him off he smiled and flashed her a silver coin she took with a blush and a stutter.

“He misses you terribly. Finding you again is all he seems interested in getting out of bed for. He’s turning out to not be what father hoped.”

Sakura raised a finger. “Let me stop you there and read your mind. Ah, the king blames me for that, does he. He says I bewitched or cursed his son and that it’s alllllll my fault. How’s that?”  

Itachi sipped at his drink without turning his nose up at it, but set it aside after only a mouthful. “You’re not far off but he has no one to blame for how things went. I don’t blame my brother. He’s had so little kindness in his life it is not hard to believe he’d want to covet what little he’s tasted.”

Sakura swallowed, glancing towards the bar door. It wasn’t busy inside and she could see clearly and easily all the way to the front and back exit. She reached inside her cloak where the shadows were heaviest and pulled out some berries still on the twig. She popped a few into her drink and then knocked the whole tankard back.

“What was that?” Itachi asked.

“Is Madara on his way here?” Sakura countered.

“Maybe. It depends on how fast Sasuke can get to him.”

Sakura hummed and pushed her tankard across the table. “Sorry, but I need to leave. I don’t dislike your brother, but this and that aren’t things worth speaking about. I’m not ready for someone to think so well of me, and I’m afraid of what sort of terrible things he would see if he stayed too long or too close.” She smiled playfully. “Tell him to move on.”

“You think it would be that bad?”  Itachi braced to stand but staggered, falling back into his seat. His eyes went wide. “What?”

“It’ll last only a few minutes but the more you fight it the longer it will last. Don’t fret, the effects aren’t long lasting at all.”

Itachi looked at the twig left bare on the table and then the pair of tankards. Sakura made a clucking note and he stared up at her.

“You put something in my drink,” he gasped.

“Nope, just mine, but it was an antidote to the toxin we were both exposed to when I crushed a hag berry under the table. I’m sorry, but I’m not ready to stop running.”  

Sakura turned towards the back door and stopped when the pain in her side made her gasp. She covered it with a chuckle and shook her head. Her eyes still swam fuzzy and she could smell her blood in places the shadows clung darkest. She turned and headed for the front entrance, staggering like the other drunks with a sloppy smile.

“Sakura, don’t do this. He’s not the sort of person that will give up.”

Something about the tone of his voice made her turn, hand on the doorframe, ready to leave. She looked back and smiled sadly, believing every word. “I know. I’m still sorry. There are many more miles I need to go before I am done.”

“Done with what? We can help you if you are in trouble with someone.”

Sakura laughed. “I doubt that. Tell your beautiful brother what you need to. Say I was with another man, or two or three, I’m a harlot that doesn’t love. Tell him I have money problems and I used him. Say what you need to, just don’t tell him to keep searching because that will only hurt him longer.”      

She pulled the cloak’s hood down and stumbled out of the bar and into the shadows between streets and buildings.

The morbid part of her that liked to press her bruises until the pressure made them sting stopped and dominated her in that instant. She turned and looked back, watching as a pair of brothers too pretty to be peasants raced down the street. Madara passed the Dancing Pig pub, but Sasuke had to yell at him to turn back and Madara cursed about having to scramble. When he turned Sakura saw his face.

It hurt worse than any bruise.

“This is what you wanted, idiot,” she said to herself, backing away and drawing her cloak closer. She hurt all over and only half of the pain was from the bleeding bits of flesh.  

The bites weren’t healing and she couldn’t wait for the full moon when they sapped her so much each day. She applied what she knew of medicines to closing the wounds and healing the sites, but Kelpis were terribly good at death curses. She would need something specific.

The stone at the end of her necklace tugged her down the old road that had been well worn maybe half a century ago, but not so recently. The locals spoke of Carter Hall like it was a haunted thing and Sakura was willing to believe them if she was heading there. She needed a double headed red or white rose and wasn’t willing to hike another hundred miles in the opposite direction.

She dropped the stone back to her chest and let it rest there, tugging her along as she pulled her skirts up over her knee to keep the branches and twigs from taring through her.

She saw the edges of the outer wall over the treetops and pressed on. More and more of the modest castle emerged from the brush, looking as old and worn as the rest of the road. Sakura could smell the roses and knew she was closer at last. She had walked too far to not be close by now.

When she staggered the leaves came away red.

There was an old wooden door that was broken in so many places it swung with the lightest of touches. She stepped over the grassy threshold and let the broken door swing open and hit the wall behind her. There was no one else around the hear the sound.

Sakura saw heavy bushes blooming and full with roses, but ignored the sight of them all to follow the tug around her neck. It would take her hours to look through all the roses until she founded what she wanted, but her stone led her right to where she needed to go, around the bend of a tower’s curve. Sakura had to climb up fallen debris long overgrown with weed and grass, but in the gapping hole in the tower’s side there was a monsters bush heavy with bloom. Each rose was as red as her blood.

White roses were better for bones and red for blood, so she was lucky.

Sakura reached into the thicket of thorns and grabbed at the double headed rose to tug it free.

“Stop!”

She whirled around, eyes going wide to soak up the surroundings for something she must have missed. Her eyes landed on the figure of a man, heading for her with the footsteps of a ghost.

Her eyes narrowed when she noticed the other elven features and gripped the thorny stem tighter in her hand, never minding the prick of thorns.

“Do not pull that double rose,” he said while reaching for her with one hand. “Lady, pull no more.”

Sakura raised a hand of her own and he stopped when he saw the palm and licked his lips, panting from the jog. “Who are you and where did you come from?”

“I am the master of Carter Hall. Who are you to come and go as you please throughout my lands?”

“I come and I go by my own leave, good lord, and it need not be on your will.” Sakura angled her chin up to stare down at the man below her, left at the base of the rubble she had climbed earlier. “And no one has claimed these lands in ages. They’re supposedly haunted.”

“I assure you, that is not the case. Please, release the double rose.”

Sakura tugged it out a little more, closer to herself and narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

He almost looked nervous, but his voice didn’t shake when he spoke. “It is a piece of my property and I wish it to remain where it was placed. I need no further justification than that.”

Sakura tugged it a little more. “Wanna try that again?”

“Haunted, it may not be, but Carter Hall may still yet be a place of ill to those who do not fear or respect it. Release the rose. You know not what you do.”

Sakura yanked hard and the rose came away with a snap. The man cried out, reaching for her as he ascended the first step with hands outstretched. Magic screeched out from the place where the stem was ripped and Sakura felt her handprint throb with it, but after all she had been through, the Rebuke was little more than a breeze to her. At the very least it didn’t stop her from drawing her sword in her free hand and holding it across her chest as the man climbed up onto her rubble perch.

“You…” he breathed on a note of awe. “You are well still.”

“Funny how that happens. Are you going to leave me well or do I have to use this?” Sakura asked while shaking her sword.

“Not on m, I dare say.” He smiled at her and it was so disarming it made her flinch. “I am glad to see you are not taken with illness. Speak your name, lady.”

“Not until you tell me yours, stranger.”

“I am Hashirama, the Lord of Carter Hall and the Tam Lim to these lands.”

Sakura swore under her breath and dropped her sword a little more. “No wonder you sound like something from my grandfather’s youth.”

She didn’t bother asking how long he had been a Tam Lin, since the decay of the castle told her enough on its own. He had probably been cursed by a fairy queen over a hundred years ago by the look of things.

“And your name, lady. Pray speak it.”

 He took a hesitant step closer to her, careful not to draw too close and be perceived as threatening.  

“You can call me Sakura.”

She huffed and turned her sword around to fit back into the scabbard hidden between the folds of her skirt. His eyes followed the action and fixated on the discoloration of her skirts.

“You’re hurt!” he exclaimed. He approached her and knelt at her side even as Sakura turned her body around to hide the stain from her blood.

“It’s fine. It’s what I needed the rose for. I’ll be well with this. You can back off.”

He reached up for her hand and grasped it gently, like a gentle lord would. Sakura felt stiff at once and didn’t move as he rose to stand alongside her. 

“Please, Lady Sakura, let me invite you in where you may rest.” 

He held her hand with one of his own and swept the other out into a shallow bow before beckoning her to join him down at the base of the rubble. He moved like a shadow or beam of light, something that never made sound on it’s own and it made sense considering how he was no longer technically human. He was in the same class as her.

Sakura made her way down with little extra effort, but winced when she hopped down to the ground and jolted her wounds again. She covered the hiss of pain with a shallow chuckle that didn’t fool anyone.

“Come,” he urged, taking her hand again.

Sakura followed at his beckoning, knowing she wouldn’t be in any danger from this Tam Lin and suspecting whatever he was taking to her would be modest and just as run down as the rest of the castle.

She was wrong. 

The interior reeked of magic and elegance of the elven kind. There were white birch trees with leaves of honey gold growing neatly out of the floor in rows down the great hall and banners hanging across the stone walls in shades of rich emerald and crimson.

There were tapestries clustered with the imagery of fairy traditions and rituals she recognized too well. The main tapestry behind the head of the table was stitched with the setting from a Fair Folk tradition between Day and Night courts called the Rabbit Games, where each side chose a champion to don the mask of a rabbit and outrun the enemies’ hounds. In the tapestry a woman in a long black dress and a black rabbit mask outran several elven knights with long ears and gold armor decorated with foxes and wolves.

The table of the main hall was dripping in finery and exotic dishes, unfolding upon the gold and silver plates out of the space between spaces, growing more bountiful the closer they approached.

Hashirama drew her to a bench between two white trunked trees and beckoned her to recline upon the pillows. Sakura just glared harder at him and tugged her hand back.

“I’m not at liberty to bare my wounds to you, sir. You are too bold.”

He had the decency to blush. “Please, I am a healer and mean nothing by it I only wish to help you.”

“I can help myself,” Sakura grumbled.

“Of…of course. Here.”

He gestured to the bench again and backed away. As he drew back the trees grew wider and thicker, extending new branches that obscured her alcove from his view.

Sakura grunted and sat down on the edge of the bench and  pulled her shirt out of the waist band of her skirts, up over her head. Next, she untied the bow from her skirt around her waist. Looking each wound over Sakura sighed and turned the double headed rose over before tilting her head back and stuffing it into her mouth, thorns and all. She nearly gagged, but push it all the way down and let the magic in her burn the rose away before it could choke her out.

In response, each wound began to glow with a honey colored glow as the magic from the rose dissolved the curse that kept her from healing. The bites around her side were the worst but she could see those closing up nicely when she pulled the bandages back to watch skin knit skin.

By the end of the night she hoped it would all be gone.

“Are you decent, lady Sakura?” Hashirama called out to her a minute later.

Sakura huffed and pulled her cloths to her chest but didn’t slip back into them. “No. What do you want?”

One of the branches grew towards her, bearing a folded cloth draped like it was meant to be there. It stopped right in front of Sakura and she reached to remove it. The dress unfolded at her hands and pulled around her ankles on the floor when she held it up. It was simple and sturdy enough.

“What is this for?” Sakura called back through the trees.

“You need not done your bloody things. Please, dress and come eat so that you may not grow weary.”

His voice sounded happy when he answered, and Sakura suspected he was actually smiling even though she couldn’t tell or see his face in any way to know that for sure.

“Your kindness is too much. I should not stay here long.”

“Please, you are my guest!” he exclaimed. She heard him scuffle on the other side of the trees and then he spoke softer. “Please. I wish to dine with the first guest in many a year. Let me be a good host.”

Sakura looked down at the dress and felt the cotton between her hands. Sighing, she tugged it on and smoothed it out when she stood. There was a glittering belt still on the branches she looked over for hexes or magic and finding nothing. Sakura clipped it about her waist and was a bit dazzled by the brilliance of it. The stones were large and lovely, making it the prize of any noble lord or lady. Her sword dangled from it nicely.

“I think I am ready now, Hashirama.”

She heard his gasp and then stammering. “Oh-oh of course. Of course. Please.” 

The trees pulled back and strand their branches while leaving the leaves to fall off and shed across the stone floor like paper gold. He was there when the branches pulled away, grinning happily at her.

“It’s been a while since I heard someone else call my name.”

“You’re alone here?” Sakura asked, looking for invisible servants. She couldn’t see anything that moved.

“Precisely so, but I am not uncared for. Come, sit at my table and break bread with me.” He held his hand out for her again and delighted when she took it.  

Out of the corner of her eye Sakura caught movement and turned to see a stag at the corner of the room, walking in with a doe at his heels. A blue songbird fluttered down, chased off by a handful of others nesting in the rafters. Hashirama held out his hand and the bird perched on his fingers.

Not as alone as she first assumed.

“When was the last time you broke bread with other person you could talk to?” Sakura asked.

“I can talk to the birds and the trees. But another human you mean…oh, it’s been ages I dare say.”

Sakura eyed him critically, unable to not see the way his ears shaped themselves like leaves that poked through his long chestnut hair.

“Neither of us are truly human, though.”  

The bird fluttered off his fingers and his smile lessened in vibrance. His face was still kind as it looked to her. “Maybe we are no longer what humans would recognize as their own, but what else could we call ourselves?”

Like Tam Lins, being a changeling meant you didn’t fit on either side of the fence between the good neighbors and the humans. You weren’t one or the other, you were caught in between with no real home.

The white handprint on her skin was a brand that drove her from village after village and town after town. The same people who begged for her help would chase her out the minute they had what they wanted. What had made her a rouge to the people had made him a hermit to his.

Sakura took his offered hand and sat alongside him on the bench at the head of the table. A squirrel with an enormously bushy tail ran up to her plate and then sat beside it, staring up at her expectedly. Nothing thinking twice about it, Sakura fed it from the fruits multiplying from her plate.

She waited for the questions to come but was a bit surprised when Hashirama started to tell her about all the different animals. Most of them had names but all of them loved him in their own way. None of them seemed afraid of him or even her when she sat next to them. That wasn’t…terribly unusual. People touched by the fair folk naturally were more trusted by animals, but that didn’t always mean loved.

It surprised her when the first question between them came from her. “How long have they loved you like this?”

“Ever since I came back to Carter Hall. It’s a funny story. Here is my birthright but one day I was riding through the forests on my horse and off I fell. I thought that was it, but I was swept up and the Queen of the Fox Court saved me and made me one of her knights in her realm for what felt like a mere summer. When she sent me back home it was overgrown and my family was gone. I’ve been here ever since, waiting for someone to summon me back and be useful.

The fork stayed hovering in front of her her mouth. “Mito?”

“Yes, the very one,” Hashirama exclaimed.

Sakura groaned and lowered her fork back down to the plate. “Of course she would. Do you remember what spooked your horse in the first place, casing it to buck you off?”

“Not in the least,” he chuckled in good nature.

“I bet you don’t,” Sakura mumbled under her breath, feeling a little sick in her heart at how little he cared about his fate. He probably didn’t even know about Mito’s title to hell.

“It’s not such a terrible fate. I’m fit as can be, I have many adorable friends, and there is no need or want that is not met under this roof. Watch!” he extended a single hand and inhaled. “I wish for a chest of gold.”

The table groaned as a chest settled in the middle, turning over and spilling gold across the floor. Sakura stood up suddenly but didn’t move towards or away from it.

“See? Anything I want will appear. Is there something you want? I can ask for it for you. Pearls or rubies?” He looked eagerly towards her, so excited to be able to show off for someone.

“What good are things like those if you are stuck here all alone?” Sakura huffed, settling back into her seat and closing her eyes. “No thank you. I don’t want anything I don’t need. Especially if it’s coming from a fair folk’s magic wells.”

“Truly? There is nothing I can get for you?” he asked, tone dropping alone with his expression.

Sakura waved his concerns away and forced herself to smile. “You are very kind, but no thank you. The food is delicious and more than enough to satisfy. I need nothing more.”

“Then can I offer you a room for the night. It is nearly twilight and the roads are unforgiving in the dark this far out. You will be safe under this roof my lady.”

“You know precious little of me, other than the fact that I’ve picked your only double headed rose despite your pleas. You think it will be safe to invite a person such as I into your home?”

“Of course,” he laughed. He gestured to his chest and grinned wide. “I may not look it, but I’ve been defending this place for nearly seven years now and never had a problem with anyone who came through. Plus, the animals always tell me what they think and they trust you the most, more than any other visitor, so I’ll trust you too.”

She wasn’t sure why she felt guilty when he smiled at her, because she wasn’t planning on doing anything to feel guilty about, but when she settled down for the night she figured it out. He said nearly seven years. Halloween was in a month. He was Mito’s teind to hell and she hadn’t said anything to him about it. But…there was no way he didn’t know by this point. Right?

‘Whatever, I have my own problems.’

“You’re staying for breakfast?” he asked with good cheer when he saw her on the bench in the early hours of light.

“Just for another couple of days. I’ll intrude upon you no longer than that. By then my wounds will not be enough to bother me on the road. Of course if you wish me gone sooner that’s fine too-“

“Oh no, no!” Hashirama was quick to dash in front of her and grab both her hands. “Of course not. Please, feel at home here and stay as long as you like. You have my permission to remain as long as your heart desires.”

“No, it’s really only going to be a couple of days.”

“Of course, as long as you wish it.”

“I’m serious,” Sakura countered. “Only a couple of days.”

A couple of days turned into a week. A week turned into a couple of weeks, and then the month was over and the wounds were healed but Sakura was still around, enjoying herself a little too much as she wrestled with the problem of what to do once halloween set.

Hashirama didn’t seem to take the threat very seriously, or if he did, he hid it well, and that annoyed her further. Whenever she tried to talk about it he would laugh and diver the conversation elsewhere. Even when she offered to help, he was overly cheerful about denying it. He insisted she didn’t owe him anything and when she told him it wasn’t about repaying a debt the conversation turned to water in her hands and no headway was made.

What made it worse was how he had started leaving her with instructions on how to take care of Carter Hall if she wanted to stay ‘after he went away,’ since the magic would still be making food and wine like it did for him. When it came to the likes and preferences of the animals Sakura didn’t think she could take it anymore.

“You’re not going to hell for her. Stop it, stop acting like you are,” Sakura hissed, backhanding the tray of berries out of his hand. They scattered across the floor and the squirrels raced for them. “Don’t treat me like this.”

“I-Sakura, I didn’t mean to offend.”

“You never do, which is why you’re stuck in the situation you’re in now. It’s not fair and I’m not so terrible a person that I’ll just sit back and watch it all unfold. You know I could probably do something so why won’t you let me help you?”

“Oh Sakura. There’s nothing you could do. It’s a done thing, my lady.”

His smile was sad and soft as he reached to brush his knuckles across her cheek. She didn’t pull away anymore, but she still refused to look at him if he touched her so tenderly. She considered them friends, maybe even good friends, but she was still a changeling and he was still a Tam Lin.

“You don’t know what I can and can’t do.”

“It’s not worth it anymore.”

He looked as if the conversation was going to end there but he caught himself when he saw her eyes wet and leaking. A tear slipped past her lashes onto his finger and it froze him in his spot. Sakura closed her eyes to hide the rest and pretend they weren’t there.

“A white horse.”

Her eyes shot open. “What?”

Hashirama wasn’t smiling anymore. “Listen to what I tell you, for it is what I was told in a moment of mercy. At Miles Cross lovers and humans will see the fair folk���s procession on this stretch of road only, led by the fair queen. So first let past the horses black and then let past the brown. Quickly run to the white steed and pull the rider down For I'll ride on the white steed, the nearest to the town. Because I was an earthly knight, they give me that renown.”

Hashirama closed his eyes and inclined his head to hers.

“Oh, they will turn me in your arms to a newt or a snake but hold me tight and fear not. They will turn me in your arms into a lion bold but hold me tight and fear not, they will turn me in your arms into a naked knight. Then and only then cloak me in your mantle and keep me out of sight.”

He opened his eyes and there were tears making his own glassy as she stared into hers. “But that’s not the end of it, because if you do this she will come for you, and she will make you recount a defense. I know not any justification a mortal or changeling could grant to sever the bond of a Tam Lin from his turner. Her magic has fed and saved me for seven years. What could be powerful enough to break that bond? Please, do not try this, Sakura. You will not avail.”

He leaned in to kiss the crown of her head, soft like one of his smiles for her. She felt him slip a ring on her finger made from gold as he drew away. When she opened her eyes to look he was gone, and for the rest of the two days before the Hallow’s Tide, Hashirama hid himself from her.  

She dressed in a long black dress that wouldn’t betray her in the night and a long green mantle pinned up high with a hood that hung low over her face. Her sword was safe in the scabbard around her waist, but as she found the cross at Miles road she unbuckled it from her belt and laid it out on the grass beside her. She was low in the bushes, watching the center of the crossroads where the fair folk would walk. Anyone not touched by the good neighbors or without hag stones would have to wait until they were in the cross of the roads to see them, where their magic couldn’t hide them from mortal eyes, but Sakura didn’t need to wait for that.

The mists rolled in right on time and the air chilled with the presence of spirits but she stayed in the bushes and didn’t move. Something cold trailed along her face and she didn’t move. Something reached for her ankle but she didn’t move. Something whispered in her ear and then shouted at her, but she didn’t move.

Far off the fox fire lit and the first faces started to appear. A the front were the fair knights in glittering armor, guarding a Queen most fair with a veil of red. Anyone who saw her face would be struck dead by the sight of it.

Sakura held her breath and kept her eyes fixed on the rest of the procession. Passed the knights on horses of red, black, and then finally brown. At the very end of the line was a single white horse, somewhat separated from the others. Atop its back sat Hashirama in his elven robes and armor, hair intricately braided half up and woven with leaves. His face was painted with the markings of the teind to hell.

Sakura left her sword behind and waited till the last moment and then sprang upon him at the crossroads, reaching with all her strength to tear him down from his steed onto the earth.

Hashirama cried out and twisted into something long and slithering, trying to get away, but Sakura held him tighter, even as he grew arms like a newt and tried to wriggle away. Sakura whispered hexes to herself for strength as he bulged and became a roaring lion with teeth and claws that couldn’t reach her as long as she held him tight. She pulled him closer and he roared louder before turning into a smaller cat that nearly turned to bite at Sakura’s shoulder. She felt the teeth and hissed at the touch but there was no pain. Hashirama bulged in her hands and then bled white, shrinking and shedding until he was a pale, naked knight in her arms.

With one good arm Sakura pulled her mantle over his form and pressed herself on top of him, hiding him from the rest of the world in her dark fabrics. He was burning flesh under her and she knew if she let him go or if the world saw him he would turn into a burning coal that could consume her.

“Hold there, young maid. Who are you the challenge the teind of the Faery Queen?” a voice called out to her.

“I am the one who challenges it!” Sakura shouted back, keeping her head down and body prone atop Hashirama who still burned beneath her. “This knight is mine. He fell from his horse and I caught him. His life is mine.”

“He has been owned before from such the same fate. What do you say to challenge this?”

Sakura licked her lips and hoped she wasn’t wrong. “I have more right to him than tee, for this man is my love and the may yet be the husband of my hand.”  

She held out the hand with the gold ring he had gifted to her two days ago, as a token of his affections but with no true ulterior intention. It was a brilliant thing without stones, etched and crafted into the shape of a many branched tree that hugged her finger.

Below her, Hashirama instantly stopped burning and turned cold beneath her. The horses around her stomped and cried out. Sakura looked up finally and saw the red haired queen with the cloth over her face.

“You,” she hissed, looking down at Sakura. “You are touched by another. From which court does this aggression stem?”

“No court, fair Queen. I am that which has been cast out. By mother was of The Milk and Moon court before now.”

“Kaguya, I should have known.” Mito growled angrily, pulling her horse back. “I’ll curse you in another life for this girl!”

“Please, let he and I be and challenge us no more,” Sakura implored, keeping her head down.

The hooves of her horse stopped in front of Sakura but she didn’t look up, only held her breath and kept Hashirama hidden beneath her.

“Oh, had I known, Tam Lin, " she said, "what this knight I did see, I have looked him in the eyes and turned him to a tree.”

In a wheel of wind the procession was gone and they were alone. When Sakura looked down Hashirama was asleep and nearly human again, but like anything touched by magic, he would never truly be human again.

Sakura carried him back to Carter Hall and was surprised when the bed she wished for appeared out of magic. She tucked Hashirama in and sighed deep.

“What have I done?” she whispered to the dark of the room. She hadn’t meant to become so involved, but here she was, tied by some odd magic to not only one, but two different men.

Sakura rubbed her face with her hands, filled her pack with food, checked her sword, and bid the animals farewell. The road was calling to her again, and she knew she couldn’t stay much longer if she wanted to stay free and keep ahead of the Milk Court’s hunters and whatever curse the Queen of the Fox Court had in mind for her.

Hashirama awoke and felt light in his chest and a new wholeness he hadn’t felt in years. No, this was new compared to that true human feeling. Yes he was broken free from the queen and her courts, but the magic hadn’t released him entirely.

Not that he needed it to.

Hashirama smiled wide and pushed back the covers and jumped from his bed screaming her name. He ran through the halls, and then into he gardens where she loved to watch the flowers. She was neither place, but when he turned to ask the birds they say she wasn’t in any of the other places within Carter Hall.

Fear made him human made heart race. “What do you mean, then where is she? Did the queen take her away? Where is my wife to be?”

The birds sang to him and only more fear came into his heart as the birds recounted the story from the night she saved him from hell. He remembered the claim she made, how he was her love and husband to be. He even remembered the curse the queen spoke upon Sakura’s head.

“She’s been driven away in fear.”

He looked to the gate and felt his resolve harden. There was nothing holding him back anymore, nothing binding him to Carter Hall with invisible chains. He could leave as he pleased, and if Sakura was out there running, it was his turn to find her and save her.

[iamwhelmed]

Win One, Have Two: Chapter 4

Let me preface this with an apology to all of you. I know I’ve skipped updates for over two months now, and I’m so so sorry about that. A huge load of things happened, and they happened all in a row. My birthday, and then my entire family got sick enough that I had three or four nosebleeds and my mother considered antibiotics. As of today, we’re still not all quite over that. And then, in late November, I lost my cat. She was my whole world. I loved her. She was older than I was and this was coming for a long time, but it still hit me, and it hit me hard. I won’t go into all of the details, but for a few weeks there I just couldn’t find the inspiration to write-- er, well, anyway. I had to write something for my creative writing class and... let’s just say it’s one of my least favorite pieces. Either way, I’d lost inspiration long before this train of events hit, and the train only made it worse. However, I think as a writer, one needs to push theirself, even if they don’t feel like writing, to write. That’s how we grow-- the difference between a hobbyist and an author is that one finishes their work. I intend to finish this fanfic, dammit. Anyway, here are the links on AO3 and fanfiction.net. Hope this extra long chapter was worth the wait!

Here it is on AO3

Here it is on Fanfic.net

He was early, he thought, glancing down at his watch-- early by a day. Ed snickered to himself and climbed the steps up the Guerra dojo, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Isabel was never a fan of surprises, but he had a feeling this would be different-- after all, it’d been a little over two weeks since he’d last seen her, last saw her smile and felt her nearly lift him off his feet. He was growing stronger, gaining muscle and therefore weight, and she wouldn’t be able to do that past the the next season, but for the moment he’d enjoy it. She probably wouldn’t be too proud to be lifted off of her feet, but he’d certainly try to repay the favor.

It was silently that he pressed his palms against the door and inched it open. There were a few grunts, and the sounds of bodies hitting the floor along with the occasional yelp-- telltale signs of a sparring match. He pressed further in, peeking inside with a grin.

Isabel and Dimitri moved back and forth, throwing punches and kicks and dodging each blow all the same as they bent forward and backward in a limbo, in a dance. Isabel winced when Dimitri’s hand came too close to her head, brushing by the tip of her ear as she sidestepped and brought her forearms up to block a surprise blow to her chest. Dimitri seemed less distressed than she was, but Ed could see the bead of sweat rolling down the side of his head. He plopped down on crossed legs by the doorway, setting patient hands in his lap as he watched them duke it out. It’d been a year or so since he’d last seen the Activity Club’s strongest have at it-- a treat he was beginning to realize he’d sorely missed.

Isabel’s sidestep left Dimitri falling forward with the force of his fist, and she took the opportunity to throw her arms around his waist and dig her head into his stomach, sending both of them falling to the ground. She’d been set on cornering him, then, too distracted to notice the way Dimitri tangled their legs on the way down, use the twist of his heel to change their momentum. She squeaked as she landed back-first on the floor, Dimitri pinning her with his hands locking her by the elbows to the floor. She squinted at him from behind the one eye that wasn’t covered in her unruly bangs, and he smirked at her the way Dimitri smirked at everybody, but with a blood-boiling hint of smugness in the glint of his eye. He leaned down, close enough that his nose was hardly an inch from her own, and whispered. “You’ve gotten stronger, Iz, but not strong enough.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

He wasn’t expecting her legs to wrap around his upper body, or for her to use that surprise to flip him over her head. He exhaled, sharply, and grunted as she flipped over on top of him, knee pressing against his stomach, hands curled around his shirt, tugging him up as she leaned down. She gave him her own haughty grin. She didn’t realize her breathing was labored until she spoke, or that Dimitri’s lungs were just as constricted. “Is that strong enough for you?” He took a moment to process how she’d won, or more accurately that he hadn’t, then snorted and smiled, lips, which her eyes-- for some weird reason-- fell to without her explicit permission, parting to say something.

And then there was a whistle.

They turned to look so fast they might have made themselves dizzy, eyes falling to their secret audience, who was then standing and clapping with a smile as wide as his face. “That was so cool, Izzy! Man, where’d you learn that? No way the old man has started teaching you judo.”

Dimitri blinked, and in the next moment he’d been dropped to the floor, suddenly much lighter without the weight of a second person towering over him. “Ed!” He sat up with one hand rubbing his head, eyebrow rising as Isabel rushed into Ed’s arms, wrapping her own around his neck as he took advantage, digging his head into the volume of her hair, of her neck, with a face so bright he’d have thought he was a man home from war. Isabel was no less buoyant than the enduring wife, laughing and swinging herself around and squeezing him closer every time Ed so much as made a move to pull away. Dimitri frowned.

Then he shook his head and smiled, and raised a hand. “Ed! Long time no see, my man.”

The two finally pulled away from their embrace, and Ed waved back with a grin and a flick of his wrist.

Isabel’s eyes met Dimitri’s, wide and-- good lord, glowing. “We were just sparring, since our resident AWOL club member is a little rusty.” She stuck her hands on her hips, and he snorted to the side, gazing at her in his peripheral.

“I must be if I let you pull what you just did…”

Her smile doubled in size, and he could have sworn the shimmer in her eyes diminished to a dull brown, sharp, like a predator, like an animal. Isabel turned and nudged Ed with the bend of her arm, playfully. “What do ya say? Wanna face the winner?”

He and Ed locked eyes, and for a second, just a second, there was a question hanging in the air-- something unspoken, something he wasn’t even sure Ed knew himself to be asking. Dimitri shrugged and leaned forward over his knee, and from there, Ed sprung to life again. “I’m as ready as a lunatic preparing for the apocalypse!”

“What do you mean you haven’t found anything? You’re the police! He’s a missing rich kid! What could possibly be higher on your priority list, woman?”

Suzy, Collin knew, was a fierce girl, and would become all the more tiger-like as the years passed them by, and he thought for sure that, given time… she’d get herself brutally murdered, or locked in a high-security prison. He’d just hoped, prayed, wished on several wishing wells and multitudes of tossed coins in fountains, that he would not be present, nor an accomplice when that day came.

The woman, the small, bony, wide-eyed woman, no younger than fifty, trembled in the presence of Suzy’s wrath, fingers shaking so terribly that she couldn’t even type a word, although Suzy had echoed the command like a mantra: Look up Isaac O’Connor. Has the case been solved? Any traces?

He wasn’t about to tell her they probably wouldn’t share that sensitive information with a couple of middle school kids, and he doubted the poor thing she was terrorizing would. “I-I’m afraid we h-haven’t found anything new, yet--”

“Are you serious right now?” Suzy pointed to the keyboard with one rigid finger, teeth grinding as each word fell from the wall of bone with a hiss. “Look. Again.”

“I-I’m sorry, miss! There’s simply nothing else to be done! Our men a-are working very hard to find your friend! I-I’m sure he’ll--” She squeaked when Suzy’s fist came down upon the desk, shuffling and unsettling stacks of papers, sending white sheets flying and swaying in the dead air of the police station. She wrenched her back against her desk chair until it hit the other side of her circular desk, wincing the more Suzy leaned closer.

“I don’t want excuses, Margaret! I want results!”

Collin sighed and pulled away from the front revolving door where he’d been standing; the red of Suzy’s cheeks meant trouble was brewing, and he didn’t want to be around to hear the tea kettle sound. “Suzy,” he set one hand on her shoulder, pulling her an inch or two off of the front desk, which she was near laying across by that point. “You need to calm down.”

“Calm down?” He winced, unprepared for the level of “shrill” in the height of her tone. “How can I calm down?” She raised one hand, gesturing to the frail woman behind the desk, who’d taken the opportunity to step away-- presumably to get help. “How can I calm down? These nicompoops can’t find one blue-eyed ginger kid, and I’m the one out of line?”

“Yes! Now come” he tugged at her arm “on!”

Her feet skidded against the floor, and though she waved around and pulled back and dug her heels into the floor, he somehow managed to wrench his arms enough to get her out the front door, down the front stoop. She tried to snatch her wrist away as soon her her toes tipped into the final step, and he let her. “What” she huffed, and he wondered, sardonically, if she’d tired even her lungs out with all the screaming she’d just done. He felt a deep, connected sympathy for the poor child she’d presumably have one day, then cringed and swept away the thought of Suzy as a mother immediately. “What did you do that for?”

“You are literally going to get yourself arrested.”

“For what? Complaining?”

“No! For being a public disturbance! In a police station!” He gestured to the still-swinging doors and the mess she’d left on the other side of them. “That’s like going to a train convention before proceeding to mock trains as the inferior public transit system!”

Suzy blinked at him, then glanced to the station doors, then back at him, and crossed her arms. “So?”

“So?” Collin bit down on his lip so hard he was sure it was going to start bleeding, swallowing the complete and utter disbelief and resentment that was starting to swell within him at a more alarming rate-- and higher volume-- than usual.

But blowing up and ranting at her about the poor ethics of the life she led was going to do nothing but get him drowned out like always. He had to be smarter about this-- had to be more like Dimitri about this.

He ran both his hands down his face and sighed into them. “Suzy, look,” he pressed his palms together and placed them at his chest, mildly surprised when she looked at him instead of through him, blue eyes narrowed, but for once, focused. “I miss Isaac, too. I’m worried about him. There are a lot of things that can happen to a missing kid our age out there and few of them are good-- but listen to me. There’s gotta be a better way of going about this.”

Suzy’s nose wriggled and she pouted up at him from when her downturned chin was set, looking like a scolded child as she wrung her fingers through the sleeves of her pink jacket. He would have been more in awe if he wasn’t so worried he’d lose her attention; there was something tamed about Suzy when she was quiet, when she was thinking and not scheming, and the serenity made her something to observe, like the return of the ocean after a tsunami, or the white flag on a battlefield as either army slept through the night. He couldn’t help but think that he should have taken a page out of Dimitri’s book a long time ago. She huffed. “Like what?”

She’d listened to him. She’d really listened! “I’m not sure, but maybe Mister Spender will have some ideas?”

Suzy sprung back to life then, tamer than before, but still fiery and still spoiled. “I don’t wanna ask him for help!”

Collin blinked, hands falling to his sides. Of all the--? “What? Why not?”

Her cheeks bloomed red, and she stomped her foot on the sidewalk for good measure, hands balling into fists. “I just don’t want to, all right!” She passed him by, then, each step as heavy as the irritation radiating off of her, almost like the auras Isaac had once described, and he watched her with a curl in his lip and furrow in his brow.

She must have been six, maybe five, and Catriona wondered how she was already seeing spirits-- how she already felt comfortable enough around them to be playing with them so carelessly, so freely. She could hear the girl’s mother somewhere, in the distance, like a bird chirping completely unaware of the woodsman coming to chop down its tree.

She placed a hand against the tree she took as cover, watching the child from the shadows as the spirit led her to and fro, from one end of the small stone bridge to the other. It was small, small enough to fit into the palm of her tiny hand, and fast, and it flew, in all probability the factor that drew the little girl to chase. It was cute, Catriona supposed, with a bushy tail like a squirrel and paws tinier than the smallest leaf, pure white with a stroke a red along its head to its hind end. Its ears twitched when the girl giggled, beady red eyes blinking back at her because it had no mouth to chirp back.

Catriona was sure it meant no harm.

Meant.

Perhaps it was a misstep, or the culprit was the sleekness of the stone after it’d rained in the early morning.

She slipped. She slipped and stumbled into the running river below, into the heavy crash of wave after wave as her small arms reached helplessly above the raging waters. Her mother drew closer, then. Probably heard the splash.

“Aggie!” Her mother was, understandably, panicked, eyes wide, hands shaking, screaming and reaching a powerless hand out to the wandering, blind fingers of her child. Catriona grimaced, licking her lip and cracking her knuckles.

“Love, I’m going in.”

Though she heard no response, she could feel his approval-- warmth, then something hotter, a passion, a drive.

The little girl, Aggie, floated down the river, out of sight of her mother, who’d only just begun climbing off her knees to chase her down the forestside. She called out to her all the while, heart racing, pounding like the veins in her chest were ready to pop, a hand outstretched in fear, in so much fear. She could only see the tips of her baby’s tallest fingers, overarching the water only enough to draw the attention of the only audience she had. “Aggie! Aggie, hold on! Hold on, baby!”

“It’s okay!” She paused, nearly tripping over her own two feet as a black-gloved hand raised in the air behind the bend of the river and trees, fingers beckoning her closer. “Aggie, right? I caught her, she’s fine!”

Lo and behold, just around the corner, she found a woman with hair the color of an orange sky-- the sunset-- holding a soaking wet Aggie in her oddly-covered arms. But that was her least concern, not when her baby was reaching out to her with tears in her eyes, fingers opening and closing with every inch she reached for her mother’s embrace. With a gasp, with a choked sigh, with a smile, she took her daughter in her arms and swung her around in a circle, holding her close, taking in breaths of her damp hair and laughing to herself as tiny hands clasped at her blouse. She turned to the stranger, her hero, hero daughter’s savior, and took in her odd state of dress with less scrutiny and more curiosity.

Her dress was long and formal and black, as though she’d stepped fresh out of a church, out of a money man’s funeral, though the lengthy slits on either side of her long, slim legs gave that thought pause. The woman smiled and straightened out her dress, shifting the shoulders so the straps of her off-shoulder neckline fell, well, off the shoulder and not on, giving her a smile as she set her hands at her hips. “My, my, little one, your mommy should be more careful with such an adventerous soul like yourself.”

“I’m so sorry!”

The stranger raised both hands defensively, eyes wide and lips curved. “Oh, dear, no, I’m not scolding you! No need to apologize! I was the same way, myself, when I was her age. My mother had quite the handful to deal with.”

She sighed and offered the stranger her hand, surprised when she took it to feel nothing but warmth. How were her hands not wet? Come to think of it, she looked untouched by even the wind, let alone water or the dirt of the forest floor. Odd... “My name is Mari. This is Aggie. I was-- I was so busy watering Mister Carver’s yard, you see, I’m a gardener, that I hardly noticed there was a river nearby and--!”

“You take your daughter to work with you? Well,” the stranger leaned forward and pressed a finger to Aggie’s nose, who giggled. “That seems an odd practice for a woman in this day-and-age. Does your boss know about this?”

“No! But I’ve been trying to find a proper daycare, I really have! It’s just that everyone is full, and babysitters are so expensive in this neighborhood--!”

“Lucky I’ve run into you, then!” The woman reached out of her pocket-- that dress had pockets?-- and held it out for her to take. “You see, I’ve just started my own daycare service, and I’m yet to find any children to, er, look after. Now that you mention it, it must be because they’re all already in established daycare communities.” She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth and smiled. “My name’s Catriona. I’d say you and I need each other!”

Mari had only just finished typing her home phone number into the stranger’s-- Catriona’s-- contacts before she all but shoved the phone into her hands. “Yes! Please! Thank you so much! Give me a call at 8:30 when I get off and we’ll set our schedules out, okay?”

Mari and Aggie disappeared over the hill from which they’d came, and for a moment, Catriona felt deeply satisfied. She ran one hand over her arm and sighed. “My only regret is that you and I could never bear a child.”

She could feel him, his essence, enclose around her, then, drag her into his realm with all his stars and lights and the empty black sky. There was something so reassuring about his world, something so welcoming, though his space mirrored nothing but the emptiness of the night sky and the land above the clouds. “I know, my love.” He set a hand on her shoulder, and effortlessly, she fell back against his chest, placing one hand over his own. “Though, perhaps now, we could have a family.” She glanced over her shoulder to find him looking back at her. They smiled as she laced their fingers together.

“Max! My boy! You’re just who we’re looking for!”

Max squeaked and jumped three feet in the air, clutching the family album he held squarely against his chest. Dad peeked around the corner of the kitchen, and though Zoey didn’t go to poke her head out, too, he had a feeling she was in the other room, making popcorn; she had to, otherwise it’d be left up to their dad, who had a bad habit of decking each bowl in so much black pepper and salt (and sugar?), it became inedible for anybody but himself. Max had the sneaking suspicion he planned it that way. “What? Why?”

“We’re going to get a round of D&D in! You up for a fight against an ogre? Now mind you this is very different from the ogre from the last game! This one is the king of resentment, the last one was the king of righteous unfounded anger.”

Max sighed. He got enough monster-fighting a month ago, and if he never saw another monster for as long as he lived, until he died and started roaming the world as a ghost (because he would unarguably stick around just to do sick scooter tricks in the afterlife), it would be too soon. Besides, there was something he wanted to do…

“Sorry, dad. Maybe another night.”

His dad might have called after him again, he’d been clingy like that lately, but he stuck to pretending he hadn’t heard him over the slam of his door. He padded, slowly, over to his bed and climbed atop, resting his back against the headboard as he flittered the front pages of their family album open.

I just need to think for a little while.

He stopped on the latest pictures of his mom, pictures around maybe a year, maybe a month, before… He exhaled through his nose and smiled to himself, thumb running over her face as she tried to pick out a slice of cake in the heated window of a Baxborough bakery in the upper city. He always told himself, that if he could do it again, if he could go back and say things he hadn’t said, or take back things he had-- Max grimaced.

And yet, there he was, thinking the same thing again. He hadn’t learned anything the first time around, and now…

He ran his thumb over her picture again, wondering if he’d get it right a third time.

Isaac could only take a gasp of air before he was lurching over the toilet of another state park bathroom, hands clenching the side of the bowl like safety bars on a rollercoaster. His stomach clenched and he was throwing up all over again. His hands were clammy, and his entire body was sweaty, hot, leaving the bandages on his body clinging to him like a second skin.

His stomach wavered, and for a moment he thought his body was calming, that he could finally take a moment to breath.. And then he tasted bile in his throat and his face was once again uncomfortably close to the toilet bowl.

It took another fifteen minutes for the vomiting to stop, and another five for him to clean up. He left the bathroom with his hands in his pockets, feet swaying from side to side, but he could still walk… a little.

Why was he sick? He’d thought he’d taken all of the necessary precautions to keep his wounds uninfected, keep his body healing-- what had he missed? As far as he could tell, the wound in his arm was scabbing over, as was his eye (though it still stung like a fresh wound when he cleaned his face), and he’d cauterized the wound in his abdomen without it opening up on him. That was all he had to do, right? He frowned. The lever had been rusty… had he given himself tetanus? He’d had all of his shots?

He winced as his stomach once again became unsettled, raising one hand to set it against the churning skin. Not good. He was starting to get dizzy. He winced and watched the park move on around him, trying to clear his eyes. He could make out a dog catching a frisbee in the top of his mouth, hear the proud owner egging and cheering him on to bring it back to her “like a good boy”. He could make out a couple-- he thought, were they holding hands? Locking arms? Oh no, the world was starting to spin.

Isaac paused and tried to steady himself, closing his eyes and clutching the fabric of his jacket.

He could hear children laughing, hear people jogging by and the loud music pounding out of their earphones. There were girls giggling, gossiping, and some old woman talking to the birds she was feeding. And then-- police sirens?

Isaac inhaled, sharply, hand twisting into a fist at his stomach, teeth grinding together as his aura grew to tower over him.

Then it was okay. The police cars were only passing by, only chasing down a speeding driver. He was fine. His world was fine. He didn’t notice the woman walking by, didn’t notice her notice him.

He shook his head slowly, to clear it, and took one step forward, then another shaking one, and another, and before he knew it, he was walking to the exit. His aura died down, came to sit right above his shoulders. He didn’t think it’d left him very often in the month he’d been away from Mayview. There was always danger, always something to keep a lookout for. Sometimes it was monsters, surprisingly enough, sometimes it was the spirits he was looking to spend the rest of his time undoing the evil of, and sometimes it was other people.

He took another step forward, and for a moment his vision gave out, blacked out, left him blind and unsure. He squinted and blinked, but he couldn’t move his head freely. When his vision returned, and the world around him came into clearer view, he saw why-- he was face-down on the ground, knees freshly skinned from the brush with the sidewalk, palms of his hands itching and red and stinging. He took a moment to reorient himself, and by the time he did that, he had an audience.

Isaac tried to shoot up, tried to push himself off the ground at the first site of unfamiliar shoes as his feet, but his arms had lost all strength, and he found his mouth full of splintered, cracked concrete in the next moment.

The people around him started whispering, some asking if he was okay, others asking what happened because they hadn’t seen it but they’d noticed the crowd-- crowd, crap.

You’ve got to get up, Isaac. You have to! You’ve come so far, it can’t end like this!

He took a deep breath and pressed his palms to the sidewalk again, willing his arms to work-- work, please, just for a moment-- and still, he fell back to the ground, cheek scraping against the ground. That meant his hoodie had fallen down, which meant--?

“Oh my god! Oh my god, is that that missing boy?”

Isaac grinded his teeth and gathered the strength he didn’t have, using the tops of his feet to push him forward and not his hands to pull him up. Instead, he skidded forward before he could push himself up, and when he was on his legs again, he shoved past the crowd that’d surrounded him, giving every hand that reached to grab him a small shock, incentive to keep away. No bigger than static. He bolted for the woods, pulling the hoodie back over his head and tightening it by the strings.

“Hey, wait!”

A woman’s voice trailed after him, no different than the rest, so he sucked in his grinding stomach and pressed onward.

He didn’t see a woman reach out after him, see her stumbled up to the woods and pause, or her wide eyes as she followed the trail of blood he had no idea he was leaving behind, or see her steel herself and straighten up, hands clenched at her sides.

The next one was a teenager-- younger than the first, maybe fourteen or fifteen. He was alone, on a street corner in the wealthy, artsy area of the town, performing the act of a mime for free, save for the tip jar he’d set clearly to the side. She approached him silently, head tilted, folding her arms over her chest. He’d noticed her, and in an instant he went from pulling an invisible rope to forming an square-- a box-- around himself, went to work pounding against the fake wall soundlessly. His legs slid below him, and he began raising his hands above his head as though the ceiling was-- ah, she nodded-- the box was closing in.

“Do you really feel that box of yours?” He blinked at her, and she shrugged. “Unless, of course, that’s a trade secret?”

He frowned and, rather than forgetting the box he’d “formed” around himself, he pressed open the top and climbed out of it. It was all very impressive to see, especially for a boy so young. He stood up straight, and fixed her with a glare as he crossed his arms over his chest. “A mime isn’t supposed to talk you know?”

She laughed, waving an apologetic hand. “I know, I’m sorry about that. I just, well, I couldn’t help but notice that you’re performing for people who… aren’t really there?”

He sucked in his cheek and glanced away. “So? Somebody could be watching me from their cozy little apartment, right?”

“I have a feeling that isn’t who you’re performing for.”

He sighed and glanced around, like he was looking for art critics to pop out of nowhere and accuse him of ruining the name of the good ol’ mime. When he looked back at her, his lips were in a thin line. “Look, lady, what do you want? I could be ruining my whole career by talking to you in costume!”

“I don’t want anything, dear, I just want to talk!” She offered him her hand. “My name is Catriona. I think I know who you’re performing for. Tell me, have you had any near-death experiences, dear?”

Isabel was all smiles as she waved Ed and Dimitri off in the evening, which was great because an all-smiles-Isabel was Ed’s favorite Isabel. Even as they came to the front of the tunnel leading to the rest of the city, they could still turn around and see her standing on the front porch of the dojo, waving whenever they’d take a moment to glance back. Ed and Dimitri laughed together and gave her another wave; this time, she laughed too and went back inside.

“I’m glad I got to see Izzy again” Ed had a habit of mumbling to himself these days, the habit of a boy often scolded for his volume, he guessed-- he hadn’t expected Dimitri to hear him.

“Ed.”

“Yeah?”

Dimitri came to a halt, and a few steps later so did Ed. Something had changed in the air, subtly, quietly, but Ed had become more familiar with the world around him, more familiar with the way his lungs seemed to grow heavy--or his heart-- in preparation. Why? Well, that was anyone’s guess. Dimitri always had a lot on his mind, was always thinking, always considering. Ed stood still and waited patiently, while Dimitri stood even stiller aside from the motion of sticking his hands in his pockets. His head was down, and still, he was looking up at him. “You and Iz are still friends, right?”

“Wh-- yes! Of course we are! Best friends! Why? Wh-was it not obvious?”

Dimitri shrugged, eyes falling to the side. “No man, it’s just… it seems like you kinda want more?”

Oh no. No. Not this again. Not from him-- not from the Master Observer of their entire dang club! Ed screamed and tossed his head back, hands pulling and tugging at his hair. “Not you too! We’re just friends! I don’t like Izzy! Why does everybody keep saying that?”

“I don’t know, man” Dimitri usually started to grin there, and for a faint moment he did, and it faded into the same thin line with a downward twitch. “ ‘ts just the way you look at her.”

Ed balled his fists at his sides, face heated enough that he hardly felt the cold air of fall, and he was sure that heat reflected on the red of his cheeks. “Well I don’t like Izzy and I wish everyone would stop” he kicked the dirt “implying I did!”

Dimitri sighed. “Whatever man,” he began walking again, moving past Ed, carrying on down the road where they’d separate-- Dimitri would return to one half of Mayview, and he would return to the other. Ed exhaled through his teeth and followed. “I just thought you should know…”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“If you do like her,” Dimitri paused again, but he had no intention of looking back “you’ve got competition.”

Ed’s hands became dead weight, falling limply on either side of his legs, jaw just as loose.

[monkees-on-the-line]

The Monkees In London

Chapter 2: Monkees in California

Summary:  A Dolenzmith fanfic based on the Chandler/Monica storyline in Friends. The Monkees take a trip to London for Davy's aunts wedding. And feelings start to stir in Micky and Mike.

Ships: Dolenzmith 

Word Count: 6,615

The Monkees plowed into their home all at once, pushing and fumbling against each other. Their suitcases were left at the front door in favor of taking in the sight of their homey living room. Davy gave a chipper laugh and bounded towards their back door. "If you'll excuse me, I've got some birds that'd like to welcome me back!" And with that, he flew out the door. Peter watched him go. He turned back and picked up a pair of binoculars and went to follow. Micky quirked his brow.

"Where ya headin' Pete?" He asked and Peter gave his bright smile in return.

"Bird watching with Davy." Peter replied in his clueless tone but as he departed, he gave an almost knowing wink. Micky laughed wildly as he turned back towards the kitchen and caught sight of Mike, who was opening the cabinets and taking inventory, he clamped his mouth shut with a tight and awkward smile. They fumbled around each other for a few seconds.

"So...we're definitely alone." Mike rolled his lips together and gripped onto he counter. Micky chuckled with a small nod.

"Yeah...good thing we have that not in California rule, huh?" Micky sat on the edge of the couch and placed his hands in his lap. Mike closed a cabinet and turned to lean in his spot and face Micky. He gave Micky a small smile. Which made him feel something burn in his stomach. He twiddled his thumbs and took a deep breath.

"Y'know...while we're talking about it..." he trailed off when he'd realized he'd actually caught Mike's attention and would actually have to keep going. "I just wanted to say thank you. For that night I mean, I was not in a good place. I was sort of in crisis mode, thinking about how I might be alone for the rest of my life, it meant a lot to me." Micky waved his hand as if it would dismiss the seriousness in his tone.

Mike seemed a little shocked at Micky's words. His eyelashes batted at the flattery. He wiped his hand down his chest and smiled, embarrassed. "That night meant a lot to me too....not because I was in crisis or anything...." Mike chuckled a lot and Micky smiled shyly. "But, it was fun." His voice was coated in his awkward, shy timber. Micky chuckled.

"I'm gonna go unpack." Micky gave him a friendly smile and some sort of high five as he went up the stairs towards their room. At the sound of the door, Mike froze. After a second or two, he moved to follow after Micky but then quickly corrected himself and went back towards the kitchen. He started at trying to plan something he could make for everyone that would be edible to eat for dinner. As he rubbed his chin and reached into the cabinet, he heard the door open and footsteps down the stairs. He turned in time to catch Micky swing down the railing.

"My watch is still on London time, does that count?" Micky's voice was rushed and the most insecure Mike had ever heard it. Mike still had his hand clasped around the cabinet knob and seemed to dismiss logical thought.

"Yeah, that counts!" He slammed the cabinet shut and rushed over, Picking Micky up swiftly which shocked him to no end. Micky giggled and went at his neck. Mike made a few false steps up the stairs, the spiral being a little more difficult to maneuver up with Micky in his arms. "Micky...I think you'll have to walk up." Mike fumbled on his words.

Micky chuckled and nodded, hopping out of his grip and simply grabbing Mikes hand to pull behind him as he climbed the stairs. As they got to the last step and strolled onto the second floor, Micky insisted he be back in Mike's arms. "That was like the hottest thing you've ever done, do ya think I'm gonna let that go?"

Mike looked bashful as he could with a boy in his arms. He shrugged and Micky tilted his head back towards their door. "C'mon cowboy."

Mike gave him a questioning look. Micky returned with a throaty chuckle. "Sorry...but you're gonna have to get use to my sexy talk."

Mike seemed to freeze slightly. "That was your sexy talk? It could really use work-wait a minute, by get use to it do you mean we're going to keep doing this?" Mike fumbled with his words and Micky bit his lip. He fiddled with his thumbs that were behind Mike's neck.

"Well...I don't uh...maybe? I-" Micky couldn't seem to hold one straight sentence. He glanced down at Mike's now shaky arms and back at his concentrated face. "Maybe you wanna have this conversation when I'm not in your arms?"

Mike's face flickered before he nodded and carried Micky into their room, setting him down to sit on his bed. Mike started to pace a bit and Micky helplessly watched him. The logical thinking was obvious in Mike's face. Micky felt their little adventure start to crumble before him. Any hope he had for something more happening was diminishing more every time Mike walked to the other side of the room. Slowly, Micky raised his wrist to his face and started fiddling with his watch. The action oddly caught Mike's eye.

"What are ya doin'?" Mike asked and without looking up Micky answered.

"Setting my watch back to California time." Micky mumbled and he'd barely touched the thing before he felt Mike's lips smash against his. Micky let out a shocked moan. Mike pulled off and looked him in the eyes.

"That can wait, can't it?" He asked and Micky found himself nodding wildly, he grinned and pulled the collar of Mike's shirt. They fell back on the bed, Mike hovering over him. They molded together as they inched their way to the middle of the bed. Micky hunched his body and climbed backwards with his forearm. He reminded himself that this time he'd pay more attention to Mike. Last time he'd been his usual self, in a rush to get the best state pleasure that he'd neglected the build up. Mike took everything so slow, his lips were hitting every sweet spot on Micky's skin. While Micky slowly traced his hands down Mike's arms, feeling the light soft touch of his arm hair. He rubbed his thumbs in small circles on his wrists.

Micky then moved and tugged at the edge of Mike's t-shirt but felt Mike resist a little. He disconnected their lips to say something but soon realized that Mike was still just a little bashful. He smiled tenderly and pulled his own off. He shot Mike a look to say 'I'll go first' . Mike hid his blush but when the Texan kissed the corner of Micky's mouth, whether it was intentional or a sloppy miss, he felt the warmth of Mikes skin. He moved his chin teasingly with his finger to redirect Mikes next one.

what Mike thought to be interesting about being intimate with Micky, though they hadn't even done it twice yet, was his mouth. It was a silly observation maybe but it stemmed from the fact that the thing about Micky was that he could talk to the moon and back. And he always did so with exciting facial expressions because he was always enthused. His tongue would bounce every word with passion and Mike was trying to admit to himself just how good it felt to have Mick do it in his own mouth. He broke the kiss and urged himself to take his own shirt off, he'd gone to look away as soon as he threw it off the bed but he caught sight of Mickys assuring smile and kept on.

They didn't linger afterwards, They threw their clothes back on and silently agreed to separate. Mike trailed back downstairs to see what sort of meal he could possibly make with baking soda, a can of tuna, and one bottle of beer. Micky hung back in their room, unpacking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Shortly after Mike got down the stairs, Davy and Peter popped back in from the beach with wide smiles across their faces. Peter happily plopped down on the kitchen chair. "What's for dinner Michael?"

Mike sighed to himself and scratched the back of his neck. "Y'all think we can scrape up enough change to order a pizza?"

Immediately Davy and Peter went to pull out their own collection of money. Davy had managed a good amount, Peter had a few coins mixed in with a button, a marble, and a guitar pick. He was still digging as Davy spoke. "What's Micky got?"

"Why would I know what Micky's got?" Mike said a little too quickly with a sketchy tone. Davy quirked his brow but just shrugged to himself.

"Micky!!" Davy yelled, head tipped up the stairs. Micky came galloping down the stairs as Peter dug something folded up from his pocket. Micky followed Davy to the kitchen as Peter unfolded the card. Micky glanced down at it.

"Ah! That's my card Pete!" Micky snatched the three of hearts from the blonde boy with a smile and turned it over in his hands.

"Have any money to chip in on a pizza, Mick?" Peter smiled at the taller man and Micky started on his own pockets. Slowly, he pulled out his change and slid it into their pile. Peter happily counted their stash and broke into a triumphant grin as he finished counting.

"We haven't had pizza in ages!" Peter handed Mike the stash and Mike went to their phone. He held it under his chin as he went towards their large windows. Micky took a seat at the table as Davy and Peter started up a conversation about all the things Peter was pulling out of his pockets. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter and Davy were play fighting over the last slice with a concerned looking Mike watching on. His eyes were following their back and forth nature, ready to jump in at any moment to keep Davy from accidentally hurting Peter or the other way around. Micky had his chin resting on his palm. The pizza had been exactly what he'd needed, warm and greasy. He licked his lips thoughtfully as he watched Mike.

Davy happily waved the slice in his hand with a cheeky grin but Peter took the opportunity to slap the underside of his hand and it flew into his own awaiting hand. Mike laughed as Davy frowned. He'd been outsmarted and it was always great to watch it be done by Peter.

"So who's doin' the dishes toni-?" Before Mike could even finish his question Davy and Peter evacuated the kitchen to their room. Mike closed his mouth and slowly put his hand down. "Guess that just leaves me and you, Mick."

Micky sighed but reluctantly joined Mike at the sink. They stood side by side and fell into the routine. Mike washed them, Micky dried them afterwards. They were silent for the first few minutes. Micky was never one for silences, in order to break it, he found himself brushing his hands with Mike's every chance he got.

Mike finally began to acknowledge it when Micky's hand made contact with his under the soapy water. "Oh heavens Mick, your hands freezing." Mike pulled away immediately. And Micky's face went bright with a smile. He continued to reach out for Mike's hands.

"Oh come on Mike." Micky grinned and teased him. Mike seemed slightly uncomfortable but he couldn't hold back his grin. He flicked his wet hands at Micky who gladly returned the gesture and soon enough they were more wet then the dishes. Micky was giggling intensely when he felt Mike's hand clench his wrist and bring his watch close to his face.

"4:21 am in London." Mike said with a quick glance in Micky's eyes. Micky hummed and flicked his tongue under his teeth.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Micky asked, quirking his brow as he felt his stomach burning. Mike quickly looked towards Peter and Davy's door and seemed to subside his previous heat. Micky bit his lip and tried to catch his eyes again. "We'll be quiet."

Mike looked at Micky in disbelief.

"I'll be quiet." Micky rolled his eyes and twisted the grip Mike had on his wrist so that he was the one grabbing him and started pulling him towards the stairs.

They tried not to make their steps sound too rushed as they climbed up the stairs and locked their bedroom door behind them. They picked the closest bed without really caring to put thought into it. This time, Micky hovered over Mike with mischievous eyes and grinned into his initiated kiss, giggling into Mike's mouth. He felt a strong rush from knowing that they shouldn't be doing this, especially not with Peter and Davy just downstairs.

Mike was much more skittish this time. Occasionally pausing to listen to whatever odd sound came from downstairs, leaving Micky on edge. But even with the sudden brief pauses, it was the best sex Micky had ever had in his life. And he was almost worried to let Mike know that. After they calmed and were immensely satisfied, Mike got up, went to the bathroom and came back and went towards his own bed. Micky opened and closed his mouth. "You don't wanna...?" Micky gestured to his spot on his bed and Mike gave him a 'What can you do?' Look.

"We've got to be careful about this...Y'know Peter sometimes has nightmares and doesn't knock. And we were only lucky we'd had enough time before Davy burst into our room in London." Mike shrugged and sat at the edge of his bed, Micky had to nod. That was the smart thing to do, so he moved to go to bed. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The strangest part of it all was that after having all that action, Micky had never made the bed with any of his partners the next morning. Not that Mike hadn't helped Micky do it before, being that he was never good at it and that he'd always ended up being tangled in bed sheets somehow. But it was such a strangely domestic thing to do with him now after having....Micky swallowed as he tucked the blanket over the corner neatly. Only seconds after having done so, it popped back off. Micky grimaced and replaced it. But it just couldn't hold. So Micky went into a frantic routine of redoing it and redoing it. Until Mike silently reached over his shoulder and laid it flat over the corner, it stayed exactly as he'd put it. Micky looked down at the corner as if he took personal offense. He went to make some joke to Mike, he turned his head but didn't expect just how much of his personal space Mike was taking. His smile turned into a hesitant look. It wasn't as if they hadn't been nose to nose before, they'd definitely had, but this time...

Mike stood and stretched. "I'm gonna...uh see what I can do for breakfast." He stuck his thumb out behind him and turned in his spot, walking out the door. Micky sat back for a second watching the doorway before collecting himself and going downstairs.

Peter and Davy were sitting at the table pouring themselves stale cereal as Mike shuffled around in the cabinets. Micky stumbled over and sat down. As he started to pour himself a bowl, Davy spoke up. "I called Annabeth this morning. She wants to go out for a date but she's got a friend so...." Davy faded his statement off with a expectant look towards Micky, who set down his cereal box wearily. "So you have a date tonight."

Mike took a quick glance over his shoulder at that.

Micky crunched his cereal and smacked his spoon down. "I didn't say yes..."

Davy frowned "but I did. C'mon she's a great bird. Blonde..." he smiled cheekily but Micky still looked unimpressed. "You haven't been out since you and Barbra broke up, Mick."

Micky tried to get Mike to look at him but he'd wandered off into another room. He swallowed. "I'll get back to you, Dave."

Davy looked momentarily satisfied with that answer and Micky got up like he might get Orange Juice or something. But instead he took to a more private area of the pad with Mike. He fiddled with his hands as they approached each other. "So are you really gonna go out with that blonde girl?" Mike asked and Micky opened his mouth. "Cause I think that'd be great, Y'know? I mean we're just goofin' around..." Mike's voice sounded rushed but Micky didn't pick up on his insecure tone. Micky clamped his mouth shut for a minute and swallowed.

"Well, I was just gonna say that I was gonna get out of it but...I mean if we're just goofin around." Micky crossed his arms and looked Mike up and down. "Well then I see no harm." Micky turned on his heels and went back to the kitchen.

Mike breathed out and bit his lip so hard until he drew blood. "Crap." He followed after Micky, who was back at the table and happily chatting with Davy. Mike grimaced and sat down next to Peter who was happily munching on his Apple Jacks. A rainbow reflection was striped down the side of his white bowl.

"So, tell me more about...."Micky trailed off as he realized he didn't have enough information to finish the question. Davy chuckled.

"Lucy. She's real fit and Annabeth says she's up for anything..." Davy winked and Micky put on a pleased face but as soon as Davy turned around, Micky cringed to himself. Mike was too busy looking put off to notice. He quickly sorted the look off his face and went to eating his breakfast. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Micky had been dreading the date more and more each hour. He only had around twenty minutes left and was sitting on the edge of his bed bouncing his knee up and down.

Peter was smiling happily to himself as he tied Micky's tie for him, Davy insisted he'd be formal. It made Peter feel useful to help but he was always up to mess around. He finished up and pulled back to give Micky a grin. Micky looked down at the bow he'd tied and sighed. "No Peter." And then went to work to fix it with a normal knot, Peter chuckled to himself as he left the room, shaking his head. Passing him on his exit was Mike who was entering his bedroom. Mike shut the door behind him and carefully tread around the room. Micky glanced up to follow him with his eyes.

They didn't speak but as Micky got up to leave, Mike glanced up. Before he could speak, Davy showed up in the doorway with a smooth grin on his face. "Alright. Ready?"

Micky nodded.

"What time is it by the way?" Davy asked and Micky raised his watch to his face.

"Eight." He said with a hint of a smug tone that Davy wasn't quite sure why he used.

But Mike snapped his head up and almost looked put off. 'When did Micky change his watch back to California time?' He frowned to himself as Micky and Davy preceded to leave. At the sound of the door closing, Mike huffed and sat back on his bed.

It didn't take long for Micky to come back home. Lucy....was a girl for sure. Micky tried to inflect it the way Davy did 'Lucy's one fit girl, Mick!' He repeated In his head but it didn't sound the same. He hadn't put much effort into conversation, he assumed that Davy would be rather pissed but he didn't change his attitude. So the date ended sooner than Davy planned.

They trudged in the doors and Davy went off into his room. Micky copied him and went to his own. Mike was trying to pretend that he hadn't been waiting up for him. Micky gave him a smug little grin. "How was it?" Mike asked, closing his magazine.

Micky crossed his arms. "Why do you care?"

Mike scowled. "C'mon Mick. Don't."

"Don't what? I just want to know why you care is all." He shrugged with that same smirk. He sat down at the edge of Mike's bed with a look that said 'Give me something....anything.' Mike frowned and sighed.

"Listen Mick. What we're doing...what we did....it's a good time." Mike began, embarrassed. Micky smiled widely and urged him to keep going. Mike rolled his eyes. "I would like to keep doing it." He hoped that Micky would be happy with that.

"That's good enough." Micky launched on him and started kissing him. Mike turned his face to the side and sat up again, Micky pouted.

"The door locked?"

Micky nodded and leaned forward again but Mike stopped him again. "What?" Micky whined.

"When'd you change the time on your watch?" Mike asked, trying not to show his bashfulness. Micky smiled shyly and showed his watch.

"I never did. I was bluffing and we were twenty minutes late to the date by the way." Micky giggled and Mike couldn't help but chuckle as well and finally let Micky climb on top of him. this time, They spent as much time as they could just simply kissing and enjoying the little things. It made Micky feel as light as air, like he could just float out of the room and luckily they didn't have a ceiling fan so he'd be ok. He giggled again. In his mind, he was waving those neon orange batons to let himself know he was clear for take off. He finally took notice that anytime he giggled, Mike would pull him into a hungry kiss that made him feel like he could melt right then and there. So Micky did it as often as he could...

Mike rolled off of Micky to his own side of the bed, breathing rapidly but as softly as he could. They basked in the afterglow of sex,

'it was a good look for him.' They both thought. They turned to face each other and Micky was giving a million watt smile while Mike was shyly pulling up the blanket. The next move was a shock to Micky.

Mike yawned and slowly stretched his arm across the bed, Micky took the hint and raised his head so his arm could slide just under the moist skin of his neck. He let his hand fall on Micky's shoulder. He felt like a giddy high schooler and remembered all the times he'd used the same move on all the girls he'd gone out with. He decided being on the receiving end was even better. And it was just like Mike to use such an outdated, obvious but cute move. "So Mike?" Micky began, all his nerves building as he spoke, stroking up and down Mike's arm.

"What is it, shotgun?"

"Does this...well. Does this mean-?" Micky didn't finish his question and he wasn't sure if it was the nerves or just because he couldn't seem to phrase it the way he wanted to. Mike was quiet and Micky was sure he'd scared him off.

"It means whatever you want it to, Mick." Mike replied hesitantly.

"Well I know what I want it to mean but what I'm asking is...what do you want it to mean?" Micky had sort of been hoping it could lead to this but Mike was...a hard case to crack.

Mike sighed and pulled a string from the blanket with his spare hand. "I..well I would like it if we were....dating." Mike cringed at his phrasing but Micky rewarded him with a smile so wide he thought his face might split.

"Really?" Micky went on his classic route of making Mike repeat things he didn't necessarily want to due to embarrassment. So Mike just smiled at him. "So...we can actually go out on dates and all?"

"How's tomorrow night sound?" Mike shuffled nervously and Micky nodded wildly.

"Perfect!" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The boys were rehearsing for their next gig during the hours that the afternoon was rolling into the early evening. Micky hadn't got much from Mike about what they were planing on doing so he patiently awaited as he played. They were in between their songs and Micky was entertaining himself by spinning his sticks into the air and catching them. He tried not to lose his interest this time, as the last time he'd done so he'd forgot what he'd been doing and his sticks hit poor Peter on the head. He didn't notice when Mike got up and slowly unhooked his guitar strap from his body. "Well I think I'll go grocery shoppin'. Anyone wanna come?"

Davy and Peter glanced up with uninterested faces. They'd known from experience just how boring food shopping with Mike was. They shook their heads wildly. Mike glanced at Micky, still playing with his sticks. He sighed. "Mick?"

"Huh?" Micky stopped what he was doing and the sticks crashed down on Davy's head.

"Micky!"

"Oops sorry!" Micky chuckled before Mike cleared his throat.

"You wanna come with Mick?" He gave Micky hinting eyes and Micky kept himself from physically saying 'ohhhh'.

"Oh sure!" He said cheerfully and got up. Davy and Peter gave him looks at that, knowing full well that Micky didn't handle boredom very well. "I have to go to the music store anyway."

Davy and Peter shrugged and went back to whatever they were fiddling with before. Micky and Mike made a smooth exit. As soon as their door shut, Micky chuckled. "So where are we going?"

"Dinner, we'll bring somethin' back for Pete and Davy." Mike smiled and started to lead him to the car. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Something Mike noticed not even ten minutes into their date was that with Micky, someone he'd been friends with long before, it felt like starting on the 15th date or something. Usually, if Mike was somewhat nervous on a date he could buy himself time by asking the girl questions about herself but he knew all their was to know about Micky. That's why the fact that Mick was currently sailing across the grocery store on a shopping cart didn't evoke much of a reaction in Mike but a familiar grin to let him know he was ridiculous.

They had decided to stop at the store to get a few things to avoid suspicion from Peter and Davy. And it meant that Mike was taking shifts of actually working to get what they needed, and watching Micky balance on a cart waving a sword.

But when they had gathered enough and it was time to go to dinner, Mike started to wind himself up about what he could fill their conversation with. As it turned out, he didn't have much time to think about it either.....

The Monkeemobile broke down on a lonely side road on the way. Mike sighed and was just about to go check the damage when Micky took charge. "Don't worry! I've got this." Micky hopped out of the car, suddenly clad in a grey workers jumpsuit and went to check the damage. Mike watched him fuss around from the rear view mirror knowing Micky could do nothing about the lack of gas. He gave him an expectant look as Micky sat back down in the car in his regular clothes.

"We're out of gas." He said as if he was expecting a bad reaction. Mike just swiped his thumb under his chin and sighed.

"There was a gas station a couple miles back, I'm gonna walk over." Mike started to get himself out of the car. He hadn't said so, but he expected Micky to follow him and the car door shutting to his right was conformation. They silently started walking down the sidewalk, leaving the car behind them. "Sorry about this, Mick-"

Mike cut himself off when he felt Micky's hand clasp onto his own in the dark. He had half a mind to pull away, after all they were in public. But the road got more lonesome and dark the more he looked around so he guessed he could excuse this.

But once they approached the white light of the gas station, Mike let go of Micky's hand and went forwards. He held the door open for Micky and followed him inside. There was what looked to be a friendly old couple at the counter and Mike put on his polite smile. "Evening, how much would a tank of gas be?"

"Thirty two cents" the man chirped and Mike went to pull it out for him before he started quickly patting his pockets.

"I left my wallet in the car." Mike deflated and Micky checked his own pockets but produced nothing. Mike hoped the old couple might pity them enough to not hold them to thirty two cents.

"I'll tell ya want, you two do some work around here and we'll give it to ya." The lady spoke and Mike was momentarily satisfied until he remembered that this was supposed to be a date. He turned to Micky who gave him a shrug and Mike went to ask him something but Micky interrupted him.

"What can we help you with?" He asked in his cheery voice and the couple went to assigning them jobs.

And suddenly the two of them were stocking shelves in station uniforms. Mike looked unhappily at the bright label of the snack he was shelving. Micky was at his feet working on the lower shelf. They'd done much more work then what was worth a thirty-two cent tank of gas in Mike's opinion but he didn't complain. He looked down at Micky who was flipping some of the products in his hands and then placing them in the correct places. He sighed to himself.

After shelving and cleaning they were granted their tank of gas and were free to take the walk back. After they shuffled away from the station, Mike turned to face Micky. The tank of gas swished as he moved. "Listen Mick, I'm sorry this hasn't turned out the way I planned-"

Micky reached out and grabbed his free hand and started swinging their grip. "Well, I can't say this is what I was expecting either but we still go time, don't we?" Micky gave him a bat of his eyelashes. Mike looked at him questioningly. Micky took that in stride and galloped with Mike still in his grip, forcing him to awkwardly run after him.

The Monkeemobile was thankfully where they'd left it, not like the time they'd left Davy in charge of it and he'd got swept up in some lady mechanic. Micky skipped over and hopped in as Mike filled the gas tank. Afterwards, Mike hopped in and went to start moving but Micky slapped his hand away. "Mick-"

Micky started the radio and sat back on his seat. "You went for the cheesy move last night...Y'know the yawning and putting your arm around me..." Micky gave him a teasing smile. Mike blushed. "Anyway, this is my cheesy move." Micky set the radio station to a soft station and let it pour its soft white light over the car seats. Mike gulped.

"What do you mean?"

Micky smiled. "It's nothing like Make-out point. Which was the spot when I was in high school but a lonesome side road is still something." Micky spoke slowly and with some kind of lure in his tone. Mike shivered, he was still quite new to hearing the way Micky spoke during intimate moments. Sure, he'd heard it through closed doors before but the thrill of having it directed at him was still very new. "All I'm saying is that...our date doesn't have to end yet." He scooted closer, leaning over the space between them. Mike had to appreciate Micky's willingness to keep the date going though Mike felt he'd wrecked it.

He leaned forward and Micky gently cupped his cheek and let his lips make contact.

There, in their special little Make-out point, they roamed each other like never before. Unlike the last times, they didn't actually have sex. They just did the exploring with their mouths and Micky sat cramped but comfortably in Mike's lap. For the first time, they allowed themselves to be intimate without being too physical. No longer could they excuse their behavior by saying, without much feeling, that they were just two horny boys that had easy access to the other and that was the only reason they were doing this. Because now they were on a date and they were cuddling.

Micky half expected a tap on the window and a policeman's flashlight attempting to stop their fun. But instead, he got Micky's head resting on his shoulder after he'd fallen asleep to the cheesy teen romance songs he'd originally put on. He nuzzled into Mike and he hummed as he ran his hand through his hair.

He could do this....at least he thought he could.. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They came back to the pad and Micky set the food they got on the kitchen table as Mike put away the groceries and got Davy and Peter from their room. They smelled the food and happily hopped over to the table and sat down. Mike sat down and joined them but Micky looked much more tired. He glanced down at them and yawned. "I'm going to bed."

They gave him a parting smile and went to eating. And without thinking much, Micky bent down and smacked a kiss on Mike's lips. Mike allowed it for a second before remembering. Micky stood and quickly diminished any panic with his remarkably good acting skills. He bent down to Peter. "G'night Pete." And then repeated the gesture. Peter was frozen. Micky turned to Davy. "Davy!" And bent down again, further down this time.

"Pleasure." He stood, turned around and went upstairs, wiping his mouth when he was out of view. Immediately, Davy wiped his own mouth with disgust.

"What was that about?!"

Mike kept his act on end, wiping at his mouth with his sleeve. "Knowing Mick, it's probably some European thing he picked up from London."

Davy grimaced. "Well, I don't need him bringing some European thing in my mouth." Peter chuckled and shook his head. Davy glared at him.

"What? It's a nice change from the smacks on the back of my head I usually get when you guys leave." Peter pouted. Davy stood and rolled his eyes.

"I'm going out." He smacked the back of Peters head playfully as he exited. Mike shook his head. He excused himself and left Peter alone in the kitchen. He made his way to his and Micky's bedroom with a tugging feeling in his stomach.

Micky seemed to be waiting for him, sitting at the edge of his bed and standing at Mike's entry. "Did I pull that off or did I pull that off?" He smiled proudly but Mike just frowned. Micky cocked his head to the side. "Oh c'mon Mike. Give me some credit, I'm a good actor." He smacked his shoulder.

"That could've just got us caught Mick. I don't see how that's amusing in the slightest." Mike shook his head, a gesture he was becoming way too accustomed to. Micky rolled his eyes.

"I pulled it off. Y'know Peters not gonna figure it out."

"What about Davy?"

"Oh it went right over his head, it's easy to do that since he's so short-" Micky was cut off by Mike's annoyed staring. "Lighten up babe." He intended that to sound friendly but it mostly came out as frustrated. "Don't ruin today." He added, thinking of the events of their date that led to the hickey just out of plain sight on his neck. Mike sighed and seemed to let it go. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ What Mike couldn't let go was the constant struggle the two of them seemed to have. The most embarrassing being when Micky decided he wanted to try something new. Micky had been staying with his mother for the weekend and called Mike. It just so happened that Micky was missing more then just their talks. Mike wanted to hang up, he'd never once done such a thing for a partner over the phone but Micky's panting was attractive and he promised him that no one was home.

The problem came when Peter picked up another phone in the pad. Interrupting Micky during a peak point. He was panting and maybe moaning a tad when -"Hey Mike I accidentally dropped another fork down the garbage disposal again, can you come help me?" And then Peter hung up, thankfully. Once he did, Micky was cackling on his end. Mike hung up, embarrassed at the thought that maybe he could've been caught.

Micky called him again and they talked it out...actually talking that time. "Listen, babe. I don't want to be caught like that either. It's embarrassing, I know. But you had to admit it was pretty funny." Micky giggled.

"We're on thin ice here Mick. Sooner or later we're gonna get caught."

Micky assured him that they weren't going to be caught. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They'd also been wrongly scheduled for a gig when the manager of a club asked Micky for the time and he'd gave him London time. But other then that, things were going ok.

Micky was enjoying the time they had in the pad alone together by cuddling himself into Mike's side on the couch. Mike thought it was particularly amusing. Peter was off galavanting with his crowd and Davy was on a date. Leaving the two of them free to do whatever they wanted, which to Micky meant a movie marathon. While Mike was still sort of uncomfortable with the more domestic aspect of their relationship, Micky hoped a full on make out session during some horror flick would reassure him.

What it really did was get them caught.

Peter threw the door open right in the middle of it. They pulled apart instantly and looked to the blonde boy. Peter shrugged "oops sorry. I guess I should've knocked." He chuckled and went towards the kitchen calmly. Mike froze but Micky climbed awkwardly over the couch.

"Pete....I mean...don't you have something to say or...?" Micky furrowed his brows as Peter went about normally. Peter turned to Micky and then looked back at Mike and at the tv. He shook his head. "Did you watch all the horror movies you told me I wasn't allowed to watch?"

Mike finally unfroze and looked back at the television and to Peter. "Pete. Nothing about what you just saw?"

Peter thought about it. "No."

"Peter! Micky- I mean Mike and I were just making out!" Micky burst out. And Peter chuckled.

"Oh that. It was bound to happen sooner or later." Peter said with a cheerful shrug and Mike stood.

"So you knew?"

Peter shook his head. "Not officially but I knew it would happen." He smiled. "Y'know I don't mind." His smile had a way of easing them.

Mike and Micky looked at each other with odd looks. Micky for the most part looked relieved but Mike looked a mixture of panicked and embarrassed. "I...gotta uh walk the dog." He stumbled over his words.

"We don't have a dog Michael." Peter frowned and Mike sighed.

"I gotta get one then." He quickly left their home. Micky turned back to Peter and sighed himself.

"He's just embarrassed. He'll be back soon Pete." He assured the boy and himself.

[poisonedfortunecookie]

this one is a bit similar to day 5 prompt in set up which i didn’t notice when I wrote the first draft but oh well. This time it’s Lance’s turn to comfort Shiro 

As a side note I want to upload all of these on ao3 later, but I’d like someone to beta them before I do that so if anyone would like to offer to beta these prompts i’d be super grateful 

day 1 Black & Blue | day 2 Sea | day 3 Family | day 4 first & last | day 5 cuddles

prompt: magic

words: 1,419

summary: Lance show Shiro a magic trick to help him relax

“Shiro?”

Shiro jumped looking over guiltily at the source of the voice as if he had just been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

Lance shot Shiro a cocky grin sauntering over to the dining room table. The light were dimmed, Shiro hadn't bothered to turn them on fully, but even in the gloom Lance easily found his way to the chairs taking a seat opposite Shiro.

Even in the low light Lance could see how washed out and pale Shiro looked. Tired on a completely different level to his usual 'only getting a few hours sleep a night' state. Lance could see the heavy bags under the other man's eyes, the shimmer of clammy sweat on his brow. Returning the favour from the previous night Lance said nothing resting his elbows on the table, his chin in his hands.

“Couldn't sleep?” Lance asked cheekily, the irony of the situation not lost on either of them. A few nights ago it was Lance who had been found curled up in a dark room, restless and brooding, now it was Shiro.  

Shiro smiled weakly, finally reacting to Lance's presence which was a huge relief. It had been a little unnerving how still and quite Shiro had been.

“No, I couldn't sleep,” Shiro answered robotically his voice so tired, devoid of any emotion though he offered a weak smile to Lance which, ok, was good.

Lance was still worried but he knew someone who just didn't want to talk about what was bothering them when he saw them, and he knew better than to push. But he also knew better than to leave Shiro to brood alone.

“And what are you doing up so late, Lance?” Shiro asked a shadow of his usual self appearing as concern for Lance entered his voice,

“Pidge told me a ghost story and now I'm too scared to sleep,” Lance answered with a shrug, the answer so straight forward and genuine Shiro believed it without hesitation.

Shiro's smile grew at that. It was quite sweet how honest Lance had become with him. Opening up to him. Admitting embarrassing things like not being able to sleep because of a ghost story without a moments hesitation because it took the focus off Shiro.

“Do you like magic trick?” Lance asked abruptly changing the subject his tone far too bright for the time of night.

“I guess,” Shiro answered unenthusiastically, his answer not really a yes or a no. It was not really the answer Lance had been hoping for judging by the disappointed slump of his shoulders. But that didn't stop him.

“Well I'm going to show you a magic trick anyway. I've been practising to see if I can still do it, but it's no fun unless you have an audience,” Lance explained pulling a coin out of his pocket presenting it to Shiro.

“See this coin? Just an ordinary coin,” Lance announce showmanship in full swing. Shiro leaned closer despite himself Lance's enthusiasm drawing him in.

“Now watch this coin closely,” Lance said a challenge to his words as he moved the coin back and forth in front of Shiro's eyes. He swapped it for hand to hand a few times with a flourish, rolling the coin between his fingers before finally closing a fist around it.

“Which hand is the coin in?” He grinned smugly both hands curled into fists held out in front of him towards Shiro.

“This one,” Shiro answered right away tapping one of Lance's closed fists sounding less than impressed.

Lance's smug smile grew as he turned his hand and uncurled his fist. The coin wasn't there.

Shiro scowled.

“Wanna try again?” Lance preened.

His scowl deepening Shiro nodded.

Lance made the same movements with his hands showing the coin to Shiro, moving it back and froth in front of him, swapping it back and forth between his hands before closing a fist around it, then presenting both closed fists to Shiro once more.

Shiro watched more intently this time, his eyes wide as he forced himself not to blink. This time Shiro was certain. He'd been watching, he would have seen any tricks.

“This one,” he said tapping one of Lance's hands grinning confidently.

“Ah, such a shame,” Lance sighed uncurling his fist to show Shiro an empty hand.

“You're cheating!” Shiro exclaimed incredulously. He'd been so sure. He'd been watching!

“No no Shiro it's not cheating, it's magic,” Lane grinned gleefully.

“Pfft,” Shiro scoffed, “do it again this time I'll get it.”

Lance's eyes twinkled mischievously.

They went through several more rounds, Shiro getting it wrong each time before he demanded to see the coin practically snatching it out of Lance's hand when the other handed it over.

“It's just a normal coin Shiro,” Lance chuckled watching as Shiro turned the coin between his fingers, even biting it for good measure.

“One more time,” Shiro scowled tossing the coin back to Lance.

“And this time I'll be watching closely,” he added with warning which only made Lance laugh harder.

“Oh? You weren't watching closely before?” Lance teased showing Shiro the coin again with the same flourish he'd used each time so far.

“Ok one more time. Which hand is the coin in?” Lance asked as he closed his hand around the coin.

Shiro paused this time staring at Lance's hands intently as if he could see through them. He waited, watching both of Lance's hands closely looking for something, any sign of a trick.

“Shiro? Do you give up?” Lance taunted with a smug grin. Shiro lifted his gaze, fixing Lance with a firm glare before looking back to Lance's hands. Lifting his hand Shiro moved to point to on of Lance's, then hesitated hovering for a moment before tapping the other hand.

“This one,” Shiro said.

Lance opened his hand to reveal an empty palm. Shiro groaned in frustration slumping back in his chair.

“Ok I hate to see you doing this to yourself so I'm going to let you in on a little secret,” Lance said opening his other hand to reveal that it too was empty. The coin was gone.

“So you were cheating!” Shiro gasped accusingly.

“No Shiro I told you, it's magic. It's actually been here all along,” Lance leaned across the table reaching behind Shiro's ear. Shiro felt the cold touch of metal briefly against the arch of his ear and the soft brush of Lance's fingers as Lance moved away sitting back in his seat, the coin held triumphantly in his hand.

Shiro stared in surprise a look that almost could have been described as wonder before he laughed.

“Really Lance?” He said with a shake of his head. He couldn't believe Lance had gone for something so cliché, but he couldn't hide his grin of joy enchanted by the trick despite his earlier scepticism.

Lance smiled putting the coin on the table he pushed it towards Shiro.  

“So how did you do it?” Shiro asked picking up the coin he inspected it again as if this time he might find the answer.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Lance leaned back in his chair, his words punctuated by a yawn. Shiro was abruptly reminded of how late it was and why he was here in the firs place. He'd forgotten until now, and realised he no longer felt anxious of an edge. Lance's silly trick really had worked some magic.

“I'll figure it out one day,” he grinned tossing the coin back to Lance who caught it with one hand.

“You can try. I'll be happy to put on a show for you any time,” Lance smiled before yawing again.

“Go to bed Lance. It's late.” Shiro said softly shooting the other young man a reassuring smile.

“What about you? You're not planning to stay up all night are you/” Lance asked staring at Shiro suspiciously.

“No I'm going to bed too,” Shiro answered honestly. He wasn't sure if he could actually sleep but at the very least he felt ready to go back to his room and rest.

“Ok good. But I'm walking you back to your room to make sure,” Lance announced as he jumped to his feet looking down at Shiro stubbornly.

He considered arguing and just sending Lance on his way, but really where was the harm in letting someone watch out for him for a change?

“Ok ok, let's go,” Shiro grinned as he got to his feet letting Lance lead him back to his room.