#I'll make this an AO3 post tomorrow after a good second reading

[themadknightuniverse]

writing prompt suggestion? Nacho taking care of an injured Lalo or vise versa :>

Here are the two versions! I got inspired haha So you can find a short one mostly for fun, and a longer one much more dramatic but no bad ending in sight. Thank you for this ask I was just so happy when I saw it 💖 Of course, warnings : injury, blood, violence.

Lalo takes care of injured Nacho

Nacho winces, hissing between his teeth as blood drips on the counter top. Lalo turns away from the stove, looking at Nacho as he speed walks to the sink. “What’s wrong?” Nacho turns on the tap, carefully rinsing his hand under the water. Lalo notices the blood on the counter, on the knife. Lalo snorts “You cut yourself, darling?”

Nacho sends him a look over his shoulder, a bit annoyed “Yeah.” Lalo puts one of the two pans to the side and pads over to Nacho who’s looking at the wound. “Let me see.” Nacho removes his hand from under the water and lets Lalo take his hand, the man careful to avoid touching the wound. It’s a deep cut, right on the side of his index. Nacho can still move his finger fine, so it’s nothing too bad. The blood keeps running tho, snaking along Nacho’s finger, coating Lalo’s fingers as he observes the wound. “I think you’ll need one or two stitches. You really made a mess of yourself.” Nacho sighs “Yeah. Or your knifes are far too sharp.” Lalo laughs “There no such things as a 'too sharp' knife, cariño.” A minute later Nacho is sitting on a stool by the counter, Lalo sitting on another one right beside him. On the countertop rests a first-aid kit. There is everything needed to do stitches, of course, you don’t work for a cartel and don’t have such things in your home. When you're a Don at least. Nacho presses a clean dish-towel on the cut, staining it red, while Lalo is passing a thread in a needle. “You want something for the pain?” Nacho considers the question. The cut is stinging but it’s nothing compared to what he had been through in the past. There is a bottle of anesthesia product in the kit, but it seems ridiculous. It would be much more useful for a bullet wound. Nacho shakes his head. He removes his hand from the towel when Lalo invites him to rest it on the counter, and Lalo goes to work. Ignacio grits his teeth as Lalo works. It's stupid how much a cut on the hands can hurt. Lalo smirks at him as he cuts the thread after the first stitch is done. "Stay strong Nachito, if you don't cry you'll get a lollipop when I'm done."

Nacho glares back at him "I'm not a child." "You cut yourself while chopping carrots. It only happens to children." Lalo answers like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Nacho looks away, cheeks warming up a little no matter how much he tries not to feel embarrassed by how stupid all this was "It's not true, and you know it." "Yeah, because with your gigantic experience in a kitchen, you would know better than me." Nacho looks back at Lalo, frowning "It happened to my dad." "Well then your dear papa must be a real chef!" Lalo answers with a shit-eating grin right before passing the needle in Nacho's finger. Nacho barely contains a little groan of pain as it stings, preventing him from delivering an insult. Lalo ties the second knot neatly, and cuts the excess of thread. Nacho must admit, he did a really nice job with how good the stitches look. "There. All fixed up." Lalo says as he takes Nacho's hand in his own with the same care from earlier. He uses the towel to dab away the blood on Nacho's hand, removing the worst of it. It isn't unusual for Lalo to give him so much attention, but it somehow never stops to amaze Nacho. Those hands that are so good at hurting, destroying, set fire, killing, but can also be so gentle. And as always, it makes something flutter inside Nacho. The people Lalo treats with such delicacy are so rare, and, somehow, he's one of them. "Thanks." Lalo looks at Nacho, and the man seems to notice something in his eyes, because this time when he smiles, it's more tender. "Anything for you, mi corazón." And then Lalo is bringing Nacho's hand to his mouth, and he drops the softest kisses on his knuckles. Nacho's breath catches in his throat, his cheeks warming up. Damn this man and his stupid charm. "Do you want a band-aid on that? I have some with super cute little blue flowers on it." Lalo says, his stupid grin back on his face. "Oh shut the fuck up." Nacho mumbles and removes his hand from Lalo's grip, leaving a laughing Lalo behind him as he steps away.

Nacho takes care of injured Lalo

It should have been alright.

It was just one of their usual visit to Albuquerque. Checking if everything was in order, maintain a real contact with their men in town, and of course, remind everyone who they were working for. Nacho and Lalo were highly respected, two living legends forming a single deadly entity, thanks to the brilliant plan they pulled up to make Fring fall. And the rumors circulating inside the cartels were probably exaggerating their real exploit, even if it truly had been a hard mission to accomplish, but none of them would say otherwise. Nobody dared to bring up the “Chicken Man subject” in front of them anyway. They were just this insurmontable obstacle for anyone else trying to get a higher rank in the cartel.

And this time around, everything was going well, because nobody really tried anything since they were both sitting side by side on the Salamanca throne. Domingo and Tuco, freshly out of prison, had organized a little special thing to celebrate what Tuco liked to call “a family reunion” even though it was just a party at Domingo's house with the other members of the cartel working under them all, and their companions.

It would have been like the precedent times, Lalo and Nacho taking the time to pass by the Salamanca's guest house to leave their stuff for the time they'll stay in town, take a quick shower, Lalo intruding while Nacho showered like he often did, sharing wet kisses under the water, maybe exploring each other's body in a heated embrace, before finally getting ready. And this went well this time around too, what truly changed was during the trip over to Domingo's place.

They should have thought about it, honestly. But retrospectively, they were both so lost in the feeling of power they had over their territories they became sloppy when it came to being unpredictable, and so making them an easier target.

When cars pulled up before the Javelin at a crossroad, arriving out of nowhere, Nacho barely had the time to press on the brakes. His instinct struck back immediately, turning the car hastily as men came out of the cars, weapons in hand. Lalo was shooting at them through the window in record time, reacting just as fast at the ambush. Bullets pierced the doors, exploded the windows, as Lalo kept on shooting, arm out of the car without a doubt in the world he wouldn't get hurt.

Nacho grabbed his own gun as he was rushing back the way they came, dodging as bullets flew through the window on the back of the car. Nacho cursed and hit the breaks again as a large SUV came to cut their way too, blocking their only other escape route. Three men got out of the car, two armed with pistol, and another one with a freaking Tommy gun. Nacho grabbed at Lalo, pulling him with him so they both were protected by the front of the car as bullets rained on them.

They were going to fucking die, Nacho couldn't help but think. His hands were grabbing at Lalo's shirt strongly enough to rip the nice fabric of it. No. He had to think. Bullets had stopped coming from behind them, surely Lalo had put down these men. How many were they? Five? Six? Nacho didn't had the time to count before he had turned the car around. Bullets were still coming, they were gonna explode the fucking car. A plan. They needed a plan.

His internal monologue took a brutal end when the bullets slowed, only the guys with the pistols shooting now, but what stopped him was Lalo moving away from him. He tried to grip at Lalo's shirt as the man was opening the door on his side, and stepping out while keeping his head low.

“Lalo no! What—“

Nacho could only look at him, baffled and furious at the risk Lalo was taking. The man sent him a look as bullet were piercing the door, stopped by the thickness of it, and fucking winked at him, a smile accompanying it. Lalo peered over the door, and started shooting back.

Nacho decided he would get mad later. He had to focus on eliminating whoever these men were before pulling at Lalo's ear and give him the worst earful of his life. The bullets were calming down, the men recharging their weapons. Lalo took advantage of the change, shooting one of the men in the stomach and the shoulder. Nacho tried a look over the hood of the car, witnessing the man falling down with a cry of pain. Through the smoke coming from the engine of the Javelin, he could see the other man with just a pistol circling the car to his side. But he also saw that the guy with the heavy weapon had finished recharging. He barely had the time to duck down again that the car body was pierced by more bullets. Nacho turned himself toward his door, trying to anticipate the arrival of the man with a light weapon, waiting as patiently as he could for the idiot who was shooting entire cartridge at them to finish.

A yelp came from his right. Nacho's blood ran cold. Lalo. When he looked over, Lalo was clutching at his chest, face grimacing in intense pain. Nacho's blood ran hot. No, it ran into lava, awakening a furnace of ferocity inside of him. He didn't think. He grabbed at Lalo and pulled him inside the car like he weighted nothing, bullets still raining on them but Nacho couldn't care less. His vision has turned red.

He snatched the gun from Lalo's hand, the man not letting go of it despite being hurt. Lalo tried to speak to him but Nacho couldn't hear a thing. There was only his blood rushing in his ears, and this terrible beast inside of him telling him to tear, burn, annihilate. Nacho sat up, and fired. His aim was perfect, the single bullet piercing the skull of the man holding the Tommy gun. In his fall, the man still had his finger on the trigger, and he fired a line of bullets up towards the sky, projectiles hissing as they passed right next to Nacho who didn't flinch, his eyes finding the man who was recharging his pistol. Nacho didn't fired. He opened his door, and pushed it open with a foot. He was out of the car then, his eyes pinned on his target who started to panic, not managing to insert the cartridge correctly.

Nacho didn't shoot still. He crossed the distance in quick steps, the man loosing his composure, still desperately trying to insert that damn cartridge, but it was too late because Nacho was there and he punched him right in the face. The man's gun scattered away as he felt on the ground under the strong impact. Nacho was over him in an instant, grabbing at his t-shirt, and started to beat the shit out of him.

Nacho wasn't the kind to deliver a slow and painful death. And he wasn't the kind to inflict such a sentence to a pawn. But something in him had snapped. And by the time his fist was covered in blood, not a single drop his own, the fog in his mind started to dissipate. He let go of the man's shirt and grabbed one of his weapon he had tucked in his jeans, and fired at the man's head, ending his slow agony.

Nacho went back to his feet with his breath short. He looked around. There were bodies everywhere. Blood everywhere. And one man still breathing, the one Lalo shoot last. Nacho quickly went over to him, interrogated him about the attack. It seemed like they had new pseudo cartel Don to deal with. Nacho put a bullet in the man's head.

A sound coming from the Javelin picked his attention. Lalo. He was sitting up in the passenger's seat, looking at him, gaze unreadable. That's when Nacho registered the blood running on Lalo's temple, all the way down his cheek and jaw, staining his shirt even more than the wound he had in the shoulder. Nacho tucked both gun in his jeans and went to Lalo's side, somehow reconnecting with the reality a bit more. They had to go, now. They were in an industrial zone but the cops wouldn't delay their arrival much longer, especially now that the shooting was over.

“I think I'll need your help, Nachito.” Lalo smiled up at him as Nacho peered inside the car at him.

Nacho said nothing and helped Lalo out of what was left of his precious Javelin. He carried Lalo over to the cars blocking their way, Lalo's valid arm slung over his shoulders. But Lalo was becoming heavier and heavier as they progressed, the man's feet loosing their footing under the speed at which Nacho was going. When Lalo grunted, Nacho started to worry much more. He stopped and slipped an arm under Lalo's leg and carried him as best as he could to the black SUV.

Once he had installed Lalo in the passenger's seat, Nacho took his face with both of his palms, pushing away the strand wet with sweat and blood. That was a lot of blood now.

“Hey! Hey look at me Lalo. Open your eyes.” But Lalo just groaned, his head lolling to the side. Nacho kept it upright. “Com'on Eduardo, focus. Open your eyes. Open your eyes for me, mi sol.”

Lalo blessedly opened them. “Cariño... me siento... extraño...”

Nacho tried to make eye contact with the glazed dark orbs “I'll get some help.” Lalo blinked and their eyes finally locked. “I need you to stay awake. You can do that?”

Lalo hummed an affirmative noise. Police's sirens arrived in the distance, their lights not visible yet. Nacho reclined Lalo's seat a little so he wouldn't fall forward and clipped his seat belt tight around him. The key was still on when he sat in the driver's seat. He didn't wait any longer and propelled the car down the road.

He couldn't go to the hospital, not after the police had been alerted, and not with their identity. He fished his phone in his leather jacket, calling the second number registered in the shortcuts. He took a few deep breath as he waited for the call to be answered, trying to stay focused on the road. His eyes kept returning to Lalo's form, making sure he was still breathing.

“You with me Eduardo?”

Another humming sound answered him. That will have to do.

“Okay. Don't fall asleep mi sol. I want you with me.”

“Eres el amor... de mi vida.” You're the love of my life.

Nacho quickly looked over at Lalo, and there was that same way he looked at him minutes ago. He looked back at the road and tried not to think how much Lalo's declaration sounded like a goodbye.

“Yeah, Nacho?”

Domingo's voice almost startled him, pulling him out of his thoughts. Nacho felt Lalo's hand coming to rest on his thigh, he didn't let it distract him. It was reassuring to feel it resting there, it meant Lalo was still conscious.

“Mingo, I need you to call the doctor, now. I'm heading to your home. We've been attacked on our way to your place, Lalo is badly injured. I'll be there in 10 min, I'll try to make it 7. Get everyone out, I don't want anyone else but you and the doctor when we arrive.”

“Uh- Okay. You're okay?”

Nacho looked over at Lalo who was visibly fighting to not loose consciousness.

“Yeah. Just do as I said.”

Nacho hung up without waiting an answer. He focused on the road, trying to rely on Lalo's hand presence on his leg as a source of proof the man was alright, fighting the need to actually look at him to make sure. They were almost there, Domingo's house at the end of the road, when Nacho felt Lalo's hand slip from his leg.

“Eduardo you're still with me?”

No answer. Nacho looked over. Lalo's head was lolling to the side, the dark blood covering half his face. Nacho looked back at the road. The last car of the invited men was leaving just before Nacho drove right into the empty parking spot that was the nearest from the entry. Domingo was opening the door while Nacho was already pulling Lalo out of the car, carrying him bridal style, Lalo's head falling on his shoulder. Tuco appeared in the doorway just as Nacho was approaching.

“Who the fuck did this?!”

Nacho just gave him a name as he entered the house, rushing to the biggest room of the whole house. Domingo had cleared the table of the dining room, visibly understanding they'll need to deal with real bad injuries.

“Where is the doctor?” Nacho asked Domingo, and maybe he sounded harsher than he realized because Domingo took a step back.

“She's on her way. I called her right after your call. She told me she would be there in 10.”

Nacho had drove fast, she would be there any minute then. Tuco's voice erupted from the entrance hall, he was calling his men to get informations about the name Nacho gave him by the looks of it. Nacho decided he would leave him to take care of this for now, he had more important things to think about right now.

“Go fetch a bassin of water, some towels, and-”

Nacho cut himself as he witnessed Domingo bringing exactly what he was asking for over to the table. He had prepared these before they arrived. Nacho sometimes forgot how well Domingo had learned to play his role in the scheme of the cartel. He knew the deal by now.

A groan came from the table. Nacho was leaning over Lalo in a flash, eyes jumping all over his face. He brought one of his hand to Lalo's bloodied face, pushing the wild messy curls away again.

“Hey, you're back.”

Lalo hummed. “I'm tired.”

“It's okay, the doctor will be there in a minute.” Nacho tried a smile, and it made a similar one form on Lalo's lips. “You'll be on your feet soon, and then I'll tell you all about what I think of the stupid decision you made back there.”

Lalo let out the huff of a laugh. “Can't wait.”

One of Lalo's hand came to cup Nacho's around his face. He held it there as he barely turned his head toward it, nuzzling it, before kissing Nacho's bloody palm.

“No soy.. nada... sin ti.” I'm nothing without you.

Nacho's heart seized in his chest. Lalo never missed a chance to cover him with the most sweetest words, to the point of becoming cheesy sometimes, but it always made something radiate inside of him. A burning sensation that made him feel good, that was giving all this madness of their shared a life a real meaning. And tonight it was burning so bright it was almost painful.

Nacho caressed Lalo's hair with his other hand “I'm not going anywhere.”

Lalo's glassy eyes found his, and there was that look again. And now that he had the time to observe it, Nacho could label it. It was pure liquid adoration swimming in those dark orbs. Nacho briefly wondered why Lalo was letting him see that now, after all this time spent together. Was it because of what he did? What Lalo saw of him? The way he punched that man almost to death out of ferocious protectiveness? But his questions were cut short by the arrival of the doctor.

“The doc is here, I'll let her work, alright? I'm right there.”

Lalo hummed again, on the edge of loosing consciousness again, letting go of Nacho's hand with confidence still. Nacho stepped away as the doctor entered the room, opening her bags next to Lalo, accompanied by her usual assistant. Nacho gave her the informations she needed to work and then came to stand beside Domingo who had went to stand a bit further away when Lalo woke up, leaving them at their private conversation.

At some point Domingo asked him what happened and Nacho went through the events. The anger from earlier coursed through his veins again, but it wasn't as vicious at least. Seeing the amount of blood still on his hands was a good enough reminder for him to keep his calm. Lalo was safe. He didn't have to beat and kill anyone to protect him. Not yet at least. Nacho wasn't going back to Mexico before having the man responsible for all this at his feet, begging for mercy.

It was hours later when Lalo regained consciousness. Nacho was laying beside him in bed, in one of Domingo's guest room. Nacho barely slept, monitoring Lalo even if everything went fine during the time he spent under the care of the doctor. But he couldn't help himself. It was the first time he really feared for Lalo's life. They didn't found themselves in such a dire situation since Fring. And even then neither of them had been badly injured. Lalo had lost so much blood. The bullet that scraped at Lalo's temple had left a deep cut. A little more to the right and they would never had the chance to exchange any last words.

Nacho looked as Lalo's eyelids fluttered open, trying to shield the sensitive eyes to the little light that was illuminating the room. There was nothing but a thin ray of sunlight passing between the almost closed curtains, bathing the room in a very soft orange light. Lalo turned his head, noticing Nacho's presence with a delay, and smiled softly.

“You're there.”

Nacho smiled back, eyes dancing between Lalo's. “Told you I wasn't going anywhere.”

“Right. But I never know when I can trust your words.” Lalo answered with a mischievous little smirk.

Nacho groaned, frowning, and pushed himself on an elbow to lean a little over Lalo. “You're really bringing this up now?”

Lalo smiled, showing all his teeth. “I'm just playing with you, cariño.”

Nacho kept on frowning at that man he unfortunately loved. His heart squeezed in a bad way when he thought again that he almost lost him last night. They had been neglecting their security. Nacho would make sure it didn't happened again. He had a sun he wanted to keep shining bright at his side. He lowered himself over Lalo until their lips brushed, soft and delicate. A chaste kiss. His hand cupped Lalo's head with care, a fingertip running under Lalo's wound running along his head, careful not to touch it.

“No soy nada sin ti.” I'm nothing without you. The sincerity and weight of his own words felt almost unreal. Never before did his words carried more truth. “Estoy perdido sin ti.” I'm lost without you.

It seemed to shook Lalo has much as himself. The adoration was shining bright in his eyes, and when he blinked a tear ran down his temple, leaving Nacho stunned by the vision.

“Te creo.” I believe you.

Lalo pulled Nacho into a fierce embrace, not giving a single care about the pain in his shoulder. Nacho hugged him back just as tight.

[formosusiniquis]

have your cake

So way back in August 2023 the steddiemicrofic challenge was Cake and 311 words, my head empty brain came up with one thought and it was Steve Munson having a bakery called Mun's Buns and so many months later I finally got around to finishing my vision

Ships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson; Tommy Hagan/Carol Perkins; implied/past Tommy Hagan/Steve Harrington/Carol Perkins WC: 6408 | T | tags: Future Fic, the lightest of post homoerotic friendship breakup angst, fluff, Tommy POV AO3

The bakery has a stupid name, is the first thing Tommy thinks when Carol tells him where he's supposed to meet her on his lunch break. He’s still thinking that, when he sees the place for the first time through his rain speckled windshield. It's a modest storefront, small for what Carol says is a booming business, tucked in next to a used bookstore and a music shop. There's a baby yellow awning hanging from the front just underneath a sign lettered in soft blue that reads Mun's Buns.

He's late, is the second thing he thinks after pulling up. Caught up in some stupid bullshit for his dad he hadn't managed to slip away until 12:30. Even then it had only been because Tommy had told him he was going to be late for their cake tasting. He'd rolled his eyes when his father and Greg, a guy that Tommy only considers a co-worker in the sense that they are technically on the same payroll since Greg in every other aspect is incompetent and an idiot, had winced. Shooing him away like a kid who'd just admitted that he's already twenty minutes past curfew. But catching sight of the way Carol has her arms crossed, tapping her foot fast enough to kickstart a motor, while her hair hangs limp in a way that it hadn’t this morning a third thought crosses his mind: maybe he should have been a little more worried.

Waiting isn’t going to make things any better. So he steps out of the car, let’s the misty damp cling to him in a way that makes his dress pants and button down feel like a poorly tailored second skin, and takes his licks like a man. "Late, thirty minutes late. Christ, it's the only thing I've asked from you Tommy." Her right hook stings just as badly as it did sophomore year when she punched him for asking out Erin Murphy instead of her.

Shit like that is probably why no one expected them to make it this long or this far.

When they went away to college; different schools, hours apart. His parents had been gleeful as they'd warned him that high school relationships didn't always last. That he should keep his options open, he didn't want to miss out on the love of his life just because of comfort. He didn't get offered the family ring when he decided to propose right after graduation. Carol has always been particular. Wanted the house to come back to before the wedding could happen, wanted a long honeymoon. That meant saving, a lot of it. Tommy knew and Carol did too, they'd overheard his mother and aunt gossiping in too loud voices after too much wine that they hoped the long engagement meant they were both trying to figure out a good way to break it off with one another. 

Still, over the course of their now five year engagement no one's asked once if they wanted to trade for it.

Carol thought it was horrendous anyway. She’d had her ring picked out since ‘85, styled her class ring so it would look like the oval cut diamond she wanted. Had him slide it on her finger the second it came in.

Cause in the politest of terms, Carol could be a raging bitch. She was Tommy's favorite person in the entire world.

There’s going to be a bruise on his shoulder tomorrow, even if she’s guiltily smoothing a hand down his arm now. Thrust toward the door first in offering, Carol is sorry she hit him but she’s not apologetic. “I’m serious, Tom, if we lose this appointment and have to go with Sweet Treats for our cake I'll- I'll-"

Whatever threat she was preparing is drowned out and then cut off by the echoing TONG of the door chime. A light in the back shifts color for a second, out of place enough that he wonders if he even really saw it. Head tilting toward Carol, his question catches in his throat when he notices her pinched off appraising. Better not to add to the ammunition she might already be building.

And if Carol is looking he better do it too. She'll want to debrief when they're having dinner tonight, just like they did with the florist, the caterer, the three wedding planners they'd met with, and each of the venues that they'd visited. And it wasnt because she was demanding, fuck you Greg. It wasn't because she was being nitpick-y, alright it was a little bit because she was but he liked being particular with her. He liked being involved in his wedding.

So he looked around.

The way they utilized their space -- a building that big and there's barely enough room to stand, we want someone who knows how to work with limited space for the venues we're looking at -- was the reason their first wedding planner hadn't gotten hired. Small, but not cramped. There are a handful of tables scattered in the open space in front of the counter. It’s the kind of small town cozy that Hawkins had tried for and he doesn’t see very often anymore now that they’ve moved out to Indianapolis.

It’s lunchtime, still too early for people to be seeking out the rows of deserts in their neat glass counter and too late for the breakfast crowd. But one of the tables is occupied by a teenager with long, black braids scribbling in a notebook while a slice of ice cream cake melts on a plate by her elbow. 

Everything was neat, organized, and compliant with health code regulations -- they hadn’t even made it in the door of the first caterer’s when she noticed a trail of ants and roaches marching into the open kitchen door.

Carol had always been quick when she was making up her mind about something. Like those Sherlock Holmes stories they’d had to read in school, in a couple of seconds she could spot everything she needed to make a decision. After a decade Tommy still couldn’t keep up; but he was always best at following someone else’s lead.

The smile she’s got frosted across her face is as sugary and fake as the roses on the cupcakes he can see behind the low topped counters as she approaches the only visible staff member. A girl, young in the way that nebulous way anyone younger than him was now, with thick squared glasses that magnified two distressingly blue eyes. The counters looked like they were designed to sit low enough that she could easily see over the top while in her wheelchair.

“Welcome to,” her customer service tone borders on bored. Two words into a clear script and she sighs, as if saying the name physically pains her, “Mun’s Buns. We’ve got a special series of summer flavors: Strawberry Lemonade, Lavender Mint, Chocolate Fudgsicle, and,” she sighs again, “for the grownups a boozy Blue Moon with orange zest.”

“How about a wedding cake.” He’s impressed. Carol made it through the speech without interrupting.

“Do you have an appointment?” the girl raises her voice, enough to make them both flinch back. Customer service isn’t a requirement for this part of the job necessarily, but Carol had bailed on two venues because the staff hadn’t been polite enough.

Her smile doesn’t crack though, “Yes.”

Even though he’s pretty sure this girl has to be basically blind with the inch thick frames, she levels Carol with a lethal stare. “Not you.”

From the open entryway behind her Tommy had been able to make out what sounded like the highlights of yesterday’s game. He assumed that space had to be the kitchen where these rows of deserts were made. He’s still surprised when a guy’s voice is shouting back, “I don't know, Max, do I? Why don't you check?”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Max shouts back, glowering at then in stand in for her mystery boss.

“With your finger, asshole. It's in braille. When I gave you this job you said you were actually gonna work.”

“Douchebag." Her eyes never leave them, while her hands rummage around in a space beneath the counter where the cash register sits. Max offers no explanation or apology for her shouting or for her boss. A large red appointment book gets slammed down on the nearest counter, making Carol jump but the neat two by twos of chocolate frosted cupcakes don't budge. He watches, a little fascinated by the way her finger scans the page before slowing. "Did you write this or did Dustin?"

Carol has always valued gossip over professionalism, he thinks that’s why she’s done so well as a hairdresser even though she was always awful at chemistry. It’s also why he’s held off from pointing out that they could solve this a lot faster if this guy would come out from the back. "Why?" 

“Cause one of you can't spell and one of you is trying to invent braille shorthand. So I'm not really sure what to do with TomGan Wed.”

“It might be Thomas and Wedding.” Carol leans over the appointment book as she says it, using a tone of voice he has never once heard her use in the entire time he’s known her. He thinks it’s supposed to be helpful.

“Wedding sampler.” The girl calls toward the back, “It's getting late.”

“I’ve got it,” the voice from the back shouts back.There’s an effortless assurance Tommy can hear from where he’s standing. It hits him with a wave of nostalgia so strong he grabs Carol’s arm on instinct.

“Really,” she says, cutting her gaze over to him. He’s not sure what she sees. “If we could hurry this along, it's just we've only got an hour.”

“You're late.” The glare she gets shuts Carol down faster than he’s ever seen.

“Right.”

“Okay I've got it.” The voice from the back is now the voice in the doorway. Hidden for a second by a serving tray loaded with samples of rich looking cake, it’s the first time since arriving that Tommy has actually wanted to be here. Not just because he can make out strong shoulders and a body of a man that’s still very fit but clearly enjoys his work too; the hint of love handles above strong thighs. Only then that tray dips, and for the first time since 1985 Tommy finds himself looking at the shocked hazel eyes of Steve Harrington. “Oh.”

Carol reacts for him, taking in a breath sharp enough she might puncture a lung. They’ll both wind up suffocated on the floor of this stupid bakery with an awful name, because Tommy can’t manage to breathe at all looking at Steve. Still unfairly handsome, faintly pink at the shock of seeing them too he imagined.

His hair is long, is the first real thought his half fried brain manages to put together. Soft looking even where it’s damp at the temples where sweat has pooled. He has it pulled back with a couple of the same butterfly clips that Carol likes to use.

His second, somehow more hysterical thought: this wasn’t how Steve Harrington was supposed to be included in his wedding.

Tommy was six years old and knew he wanted to marry Steve. When he’d told his mom -- to ask for her ring, Steve thought it was romantic like princes and princesses that they had a special ring that they got married with -- she’d grabbed by his arm so hard it’d left finger shaped bruises. So he’d held that certainty quiet in his heart until he was ten, and suddenly it was okay to want to play with girls on the playground -- he thinks it’s because Steve got tired of there never being an even number when they tried to play kickball, he had a way of making everyone want to do the thing he was. Carol wasn’t afraid to tell Tommy C. that he was dumb or to tell Mark L. that he hadn’t actually made it to the base, Steve liked her fast. Too fast, and Tommy had to tell her that one day he was going to be able to keep Steve all to himself. But he knew that it wasn’t right to say that now, even if he wasn’t all the way sure why it wasn’t. He was ten, but he would be eleven soon, and he took this part of him that he’d kept secret for so long and he whispered it to Carol under the slide while Steve tried to convince Brad P. that he could too pick two people for his kickball team first.

He was ten and Carol said they could share. Boys can’t marry boys, but girls can. So they could both marry her and live together forever.

It became a joke when they finally shared it with Steve, thirteen and boys going out with girls wasn’t funny the way it used to be. Sarah Jane asked Carol if she had a chance at going steady with Steve. She told Tommy about it later and they both told Steve that he was too good to date any of the girls in their grade. “Well I’ve got you guys,” his voice cracked when he said it, throwing an arm around both of them. Carol didn’t care as much, but even she’d noticed the way Steve was changing from boyish to handsome.

They were sixteen and disaster was just around the corner, not that he knew that. Steve dated around but he always came back to them. The head, the heart, the body. They don’t feel complete without each other -- at least Tommy doesn’t. Mr. Kripke, who was hungover more often than he wasn't, passed out ten minutes into study hall. Carol didn’t even wait to see if he’d wake back up before she left her assigned table for theirs. She smoothed out a lined piece of notebook paper for them, and Tommy scoffed like he was supposed to. “Aren’t we a little old to be playing MASH?”

“It’s dirty MASH, and I thought you��d think it was funny.”

“I think it’s funny,” Steve had said, “that you’re getting eiffel towered on your wedding night. Who else is joining in, Carrie?”

“We couldn’t agree on who got you for their side of the aisle. So we’re taking you to bed instead.”

He was sixteen and the way that the two of them looked when they shared a joke was the hottest thing in the world. The way their smiles mirror when they turned to him, sharp and ready to flay open the softest parts of him.

Tommy’s two days older when Steve lets him kiss the taste of Carol out of his mouth.

It was three days after he turned seventeen and he had to pretend he didn't want to die when he saw how Steve looked at Nancy Wheeler. Like he didn’t want to rip his hair out because Steve was fucking infatuated with this mousy little teacher’s pet and wouldn’t even look at him anymore.

He still doesn’t like to think about the breakup. He pokes it like a fresh bruise. Less often now, but when he does he digs his fingers in. Baits Carol into fights he doesn’t mean just so he can pretend like he hasn’t lost something that hurts like a limb.

Steve Harrington turns twenty-eight next week, and he’s standing in front of them both holding pieces of what might turn into their wedding cake.

“Wow I can’t believe you’re in Indy!” False excitement grates, but at least Carol has gotten herself together enough to speak. He thought he’d have at least another few months to prepare for the thought of seeing Steve, by their ten year reunion he was going to be married and happy and over it.

“Yeah, this is- Married, wow! I kinda can’t believe you haven’t already.” He says it to Carol, his platitudes had always been for Carol, but his eyes find Tommy. 

While Carol chatters at them and for them both, nervous, he knows she’s nervous. The situation is sudden and strange and fraught. But Tommy just looks at Steve, who looks at him. He’s getting married in three months, one week, and two days from now and for the first time in eleven years Steve is looking at him.

"Takes a while to save up for when you want the best of everything. Dad's still the skinflint he always was, I think he'd pay me less than minimum wage if he could get away with it."

And those soft brown eyes look so sad, looking at him. Sometimes he thinks no one will ever understand him the way that Steve did.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting the best, or having a long engagement." Carol defends. It's the same line she's been giving everyone. Defensive of him and herself and the choices they've been making. He can't believe Steve is someone she thinks they have to defend against.

“I really hope you're happy, man," he says, and the sincerity is a balm on the sting of this conversation. He pushes his hair back from his face, the way he always has when he's uncomfortable and trying not to make it obvious. And there's a fresh new hurt when Tommy catches sight of a plain gold band on Steve's finger, shining bright between the golden highlights of his hair.

“I’m happy about this,” he can say honestly. Carol is one of the only things he’s ever been sure about. She held him steady as she could when his other sure thing left him with a cracked foundation in a convenience store parking lot. “What about you? How long after meeting the future Mrs. Harrington did you wait to put a ring on her finger?”

“Tommy,” Carol chides as the teen in the corner snorts. To anyone else it would sound like a reprimand for being nosy, he, and he suspects Steve, knows she’s telling him to stop worrying a scab that has no hope of healing right.

Married and they didn’t know. Wouldn’t have found out until the reunion. It’s not like he expected an invitation, maybe an engagement announcement sent to their parents’ houses. They’d sent one to Loch Nora when the real ring had finally made it to Carrie’s finger. It was equal parts olive branch and offering. They’d gotten it back return to sender with no forwarding address.

The bell above the door tongs again, loud enough to make Carol jump. The platter of cakes doesn't shift at all in Steve’s hand. His arm shows no sign of fatigue. It’s almost distracting enough that he misses the obvious. The bell signals someone is coming into the store.

“Sorry, Sweetheart. I know I said I wasn't gonna be late but Mike…” There just inside the door is the Freak. Undeniable even with his head down as he digs through his shoulder bag. From the riot of poorly maintained tangles that still hang around his shoulders to the expanded mess of tacky ink on his arms. The only thing that’s changed is the age in his face and the band on his shirt.

“Munson?” Carol has the reflexes and the personal grace to address him first. Shock more than the disgust it might have been when they were still kids.

Tommy feels like a kid still. Looks to Steve in an instinct he’d thought he’d stamped out years ago, only to be met with wide eyes and teeth grit tight enough to draw out the square line of his jaw.

“Christ, I still get nightmares that start like this.” Munson says, eye darting between the three of them. “Max, am I naked?”

“Don't know, don't wanna know.”

“I thought you'd be able to tell by the energy in the room.” He wiggles his fingers, still bedecked in silver, like they can divine the vibrations or some witchy shit.

That’s enough to make Steve break just a little. A soft, exhaling scoff before he finally starts to move out from the counter. Tommy catches, and he doubts Carol misses it either, how Steve passes the closer tables to set his tray down between them and Munson.

“I can tell I don't want to be here for this.” Their redheaded audience member says, “I'm taking my 15.”

“Don't go harass Mike, he's finally working,” Munson says.

“Will and El are on shift on the other side,” Steve calls out, not looking at any of them as he moves cakes from his tray to the table. A deliberate selection he seems to be making.

“Whatever, I’m gonna call Lucas and break up with him so he can play better or whatever.”

“Don’t be too harsh,” Munson calls out, “I’ve only got him on a five point spread.”

If Carol’s nails break from how hard they’re digging into his arm, somehow it’ll be Tommy’s fault. Not the fact that they’ve advanced the worst part of their ten year reunion by months, and also Munson is here and knows shit about basketball.

“Sorry, think my hearing’s going, sounded like you said you want him to lose and he’s getting kicked from the next one shot. I’ll let him know.”

“She gets that from you,” Steve and Munson say in sync. Glaring playfully at one another the way Steve used to with Carol.

“I’ll tell Robin you were-”

“Do not sick Buckley on me, Max made the deaf joke not me.”

“Weird, that’s not what I heard.” Steve has always claimed his hair as his best feature. It isn’t -- Carrie liked his eyes, Tommy his hands -- but it’s hard to deny that it doesn’t look good, flipping over his shoulder. His smile is private, just for Munson, soft the way he got whenever he picked up a new girl. Carrie taps the back of his hand, two sharp smacks, their signal for years that he needed to pay attention and notice something she had. Wide, nervous eyes dart to Steve -- like he hadn’t already been looking at Steve -- so he does his best to assess the way Carol would.

Jealous, viciously, Steve had been theirs in every way that mattered since they were ten years old and Carol had never liked sharing her toys with anyone but them. She watched his face for any sign of unhappiness anytime a new girlfriend came along, and when she found one she passed it along to him. So he could pick and joke until Steve was all theirs again.

So he checked the face. Tried to ignore the way Steve was lit up from the inside out with a joy he could barely remember, and then he saw the hearing aid.

He tapped back, three times. O.M.G.

“The 1985 Homecoming court here to reveal that this has all been a long con, Stevie?”

“Yeah I faked the name change paperwork and picked up a fake ID, sorry I took my business somewhere else.” Steve says it with the sincerity he’s always made those kind of jokes with, his strange sense of humor never coming across when he always sounded so serious. 

Munson gets it though, snorts loud and ugly, before a smile pulls wide across half his face the otherside taught with a gnarly scar. “Now I know why my fake ID business went belly up when we got to the city, not like I only sold three in high school.”  He gestures to the three of them in a wide arc.

Sophomores, they had decided it was time to throw their first real party now that Steve’s parents had moved out of Hawkins in all but name. Steve was a latchkey kid of new proportions and took to self sufficiency in a way that had seemed adult to him then; and in hindsight looked more like a child fighting for his life. Steve bragged how he’d been saving up the weekly checks they’d sent to ‘sustain him’ while they worked in the city during the week. His contribution to Tommy and Carol’s vague plan to throw a kegger by the pool. When they’d floundered, immediately, with the hows, Steve had been the one to suggest going to Munson.

“Love this preview of the reunion,” Carol cuts in, there’s no bite but Munson bristles anyway like she’s being rude for reminding them that there are customers present. “Steve?”

It’s funny, Tommy thinks, the way Steve still straightens his back at Carol’s tone. All this time and he can’t fight the old ingrained instincts either.

“Dustin made the appointment,” Steve apologizes, even as he’s posture perfect and preparing his pastries. The unsaid, ‘I definitely wouldn’t have’ doesn’t go unheard and it doesn’t sting any less even this far from their last interaction.

“Munson could join us,” Tommy offers, a new olive branch since their last one was never seen. Even if it does raise three sets of brows and makes Carrie’s nervous smile tighten even more in the corner of her mouth.

“Well at least one of us has to,” Munson, Eddie, says. Just says, tone like it was meant to be something said under his breath.

He's grown up a lot since high school, they both have. Still, he's only got twenty minutes left on his lunch break and it's been a long day. "God, is that why it's called that?" Growth, he doesn't say that Steve Munson sounds a lot dumber than Steve Harrington.

"It's charming," Carol and Steve both say. Though Carrie is definitely lying and Steve barely gets it out from between his gritted teeth, a sore spot. He's always been good at finding Steve's bruises.

"It's charming," Tommy agrees, like he always did when he was out voted.

Eddie has a smirk spread across his face and a ‘too proud of himself’ look in his eyes. Mouth open to make some quip that Tommy is going to pretend is funny, for Steve’s sake. Now that they’re here, he’s going to do something to show that they could talk to one another again. Steve clicks his tongue, taps his index and middle finger down to his thumb two quick times before he can.

He turns to the girl in the corner, "Erica, scram, go help Robin and the kids with the new donation that just came in."

The teen continues to scribble in the notebook in front of her, bulky headphones over her ears, she makes no sign that Tommy can see that she's heard Steve speak. "Erica, go, or I'll tell your mother you moved out of the dorms. You're 20, it's not child labor, and you've got a timecard."

She sighs and wordlessly packs up her things, she gives Steve a scathing look that takes Tommy back to high school. The withering eyebrow and rolled eyes would have been just at home on Steve’s own face in 1985, but she marches behind the counter, the sound of her dish rattling in the sink before she disappears out the same door that the redhead had gone out.

Now that the room has been cleared, an awkward silence has found the space to squeeze in. Munson, the original, still standing in the doorway and Steve standing between his unlawfully wedded husband and the two people who had lost their chance at him years ago.

The wedding and the reunion both on the horizon had dredged up a nostalgia that Tommy and Carol had been dealing with in their own ways. Dredging up old yearbooks, Carol had found a shoebox of old notes that she’d kept. Conversations written in three different inks by three different hands, nonsensical after all this time. Tommy woke up from dreams that he hadn’t had in years. Always of Steve and Carol, a study in opposites, but similar where it mattered.

“Well,” Steve says, taking charge of the situation like he always would when the other two faltered, “you’re here for a reason. We might as well get started on it.”

Steve’s fingerprints are still on them, just like he’d noticed theirs on him, molded as they were together. They’ve always bowed to his expectations, and his whims. When he ushers them to the table with a spread hand, Tommy and Carol go where they’re beckoned.

And so does Munson.

They keep an empty chair between them, an artificial divide for Tommy’s sanity, but with the sprawl of Munson’s legs their knees still occasionally brush together. Carol had taken the spot closest to Steve, who has stayed standing. He is their gracious host, marking the head of the round table.

“I pulled out the full sampler before I realized it was you,” Steve says. Even with as off balance as the interaction has felt, Tommy doesn’t feel his hackles raising. While it’s possible he’s gotten more subtle with his digs, Steve’s vicious tongue was usually unmistakable. “I can tell you about as many of them as you want though if you want to pretend like we don’t already know what I’ll be making you. I’m sure neither of you have eaten lunch yet.”

“You are going to take us on?” Carol asks. Shock always gives her tone an extra edge, defensive and catty, even if she’s really just waiting to see if another shoe will drop.

“Obviously,” Steve says, placing a faintly orange square of cake in front of her. He slaps Eddie’s hand away from another piece without looking away from either of them. “That’s as far as I’ll be going in participation though.”

He doesn’t miss the way Steve’s mouth twitches up with the joke, a filthy smirk that leaves Tommy flushing hot. Too warm to not be a bright and obvious red at the acknowledgment of that old private in-joke.

It doesn’t get better when Carol moans, “Oh my god, Steve!” Even if it is about the cake.

He laughs, and Tommy suspects the two are actually trying to kill him. He chances a glance over at Munson who looks like he doesn’t care at all that his husband has made Tommy’s fiance moan. He is watching Tommy though, an inquisitive look like the one Carol gets when she happens to catch a nature documentary.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees with Carol, “I’ll do something small with that citrus cake for you and Tom so you’ve got something you’ll actually eat on your wedding, maybe a pineapple buttercream on top like that nasty Juicy Fruit gum you like so much.”

“I mean it’s really crazy how you’re so good at this when you’ve never had any taste,” Carol compliments, she never did learn how to be nice.

He could probably count Steve’s teeth in the answering smile. Tommy can feel it like an ache in his chest how much he missed this. He snatches another cube of cake off the tray just so has something else to focus on.

“That’s the fancy one for the people who hate their guests,” Munson says as the cake has settled on the flat of Tommy’s tongue.

“It’s lavender,” Steve corrects, and the floral flavor is lodged in the back of his throat at least gives him a reason now to feel so choked up. “And it is for a particular sort of bride.”

“Are you saying I’m not fancy and particular, Munson?” Carol asks. 

She’s obviously talking to Eddie Munson, who lifts his hands up in answer. But it’s Steve who says, “If you tried to feed that to Gail she would leave the reception bitching the whole time.”

“Well go on,” Tommy finds himself goading now that he’s swallowed, “finish calling your shot, Stevie. You said you knew what we were walking out of here with.”

Carol reaches across the table, locking eyes with Eddie as she snags the piece closest to him. The one his fingers had been inching toward like he thought Steve wouldn’t notice him trying to take it.

“I’ll make a small citrus cake for you, Carrie, we’ll hide it in the back of the larger cake so you can get the pictures of you cutting it and smashing into each other's faces-”

“We will not be doing that,” she interrupts, the warning for him and also unnecessary. He already knows how she feels about being embarrassed in public.

“Then the big cake for your guests will be a chocolate cake, I can cover it in a buttercream or a fondant icing also chocolate, because it’s the only kind of cake the Hagan family will eat. Even though I’m sure John hasn’t given you a dime for the wedding, he’ll complain until Hannah gets married if he doesn’t like the cake.”

“Really,” Steve continues, “the only thing up in the air is how many people you were able to get away with not inviting, Care.”

The two of them start talking actual wedding logistics, and as Tommy grabs another bite of cake -- this one looks like it might be a normal flavor -- he figures the real show of good faith would be talking to the only other person at the table while he eats what Steve correctly dubbed his lunch.

“Y’know he never actually answered me,” he says in an undertone.

Munson seems surprised at being spoken to, only widens his eyes in response to Tommy’s unasked question.

“I asked Steve how soon after the first date he proposed, he never actually answered.”

Eddie softens at the edges before he can even say anything. Steve had a way of doing that, bringing out the romantic in a person. He loved with a passion that demanded it be matched. “Technically I proposed to him, but he says it doesn’t count because we weren’t together and I was high on morphine after a major surgery and thought he was Apollo, come to whisk me away.” The smile on Munson’s face looks dopey and drugged up now, like the very memory of whatever hospital stay is so ingrained in his mind he can feel the high now.

“But,” he goes on, “he told me we were getting married whether it was legal or not about three months after he got legally married to another woman.”

“Stop,” Steve has always been able to sense when he’s about to be the butt of the joke. He has a finger pointed at Eddie like a teacher delivering a lecture. “You can’t tell people that. It was for tax reasons, I’m not cheating on my wife.”

“You say tomato, I say whichever one of us is your least favorite has to be the extramarital affair.”

“I say, you’re the most obnoxious person I’ve ever met.” Tommy can hear the warm affection behind the insult, the way their picking is a safer way to express their passion for one another.

He thought he would be jealous of whoever finally managed to reel in Steve Harrington for good, and he is. The emotion is there, present in the snarling tangle of emotions that this encounter has left in him. One that he and Carol will have to slowly tease and pick out tonight when they’re home in bed. Trying to make sense of what each thread is and what it means for them. But the one bright pulsing thread he can make sense of is happiness. He’s happy for Steve, happy that he gets to see an old friend so at ease and obviously cared for.

And he’s sad that his time is up, his lunch hour so close to an end he’ll be late getting back to the office. Something he can already hear his Dad and fucking Greg giving him shit for. Which means they have to end their time here.

Steve walks them to the door, flips the sign to mark them closed for lunch.

“Congratulations again, you two,” he says, “I really am happy I can get to be a part of this with you all. Even if it’s a little different than we used to imagine.”

Carol reaches out for the both of them, puts her hand on his arm. Tommy finds that he’s the one who actually says, “We’re glad you found someone who makes you this happy, dude. You deserve it.”

“Yeah, he’s alright most of the time.” It's said with such fondness it becomes a declaration. It’s hard to imagine how they thought they could ever be the something that could make Steve this happy. But maybe in a different life, under different circumstances it could have been.

There’s a minute where they all stand in the doorway. He wonders if they’re all afraid that this might be the last time they see each other, speak to one another, until Steve is delivering the cake on the day of the wedding. Maybe it’s just him, he was the one who pushed back the hardest after things ended.

Someone finally gives in and pushes the door open. It’s TONG a death toll for their current conversation. But it also sends a jolt through Steve, he straightens to his full height like a shock has gone through him. “Here,” he says, “here, um.” He digs around in his apron until he finds a pen and a receipt pad. Jots down something before tearing it off and putting it in Tommy’s hands, “It's our home number, in case you have any cake emergencies or something.”

They really can’t stay any longer.

Carol takes the note, better at keeping track of these things than Tommy is. It’s hard to know if they’ll actually use it, maybe after they talk about it, but if they do she’ll be the one to do it. She’s always been braver than him.

There’s no way of guaranteeing anything but the fact that they’ll have a cake on the table on their wedding day. But he hopes that Steve might stay for the ceremony once he brings it, he can even bring Eddie if that’s what gets him there. 

Alone in his car, Tommy lets himself take a minute to think about Steve Harrington one last time. He isn’t going to get what he wanted as a kid. Doubts that he’ll ever be as close to Steve as he’d been in childhood, too much time has passed and too much has changed.

But there’s an opportunity to get to know Steve Munson, and he isn't going to pass it up. Even if he doesn’t know how to name a bakery.

[vilnmelling]

Figured I'd do a little intro!

'Sup! My name's Vil N. Melling, and I go by she/her pronouns. I'm 19 years old, I'm from quaint little Sweden, I'm a rare species of Hatchetfield fan that's cishet (I was brought here by a couple of lesbians: my sister and her girlfriend), and while I'm not officially diagnosed, if I'm not neurodivergent there's just something unrelated that's terribly wrong with my brain.

I'm a writer currently swept up in a Hatchetfield hyperfixation. While I'm nerding out about Hatchetfield, I'm also writing my second book and editing my debut novel. NPMD also managed to suck me back into fanfiction writing after only writing original works for two years!

Hatchetfield favorites

Characters: Richie's in first place, closely followed by Paul. After that it's a big ol' tie between Ruth, Emma, Miss Holloway, Wiggly and for some reason, Trevor.

Musical: Nerdy Prudes Must Die easily takes the cake for me.

Songs: High School Is Killing Me, The Summoning, Let It Out, Bully the Bully, Literal Monster, What If Tomorrow Comes, Time Bastard and Virginity Rocks

StarKid actor: Jon Matteson, if you couldn't guess from that list of favorite characters (and from a whole bunch of my posts)

Hatchetfield ships

Ships I ship: Paulkins (Paul Matthews + Emma Perkins) (favorite) Lautski (Stephanie Lauter + Pete Spankoffski) Flipschitz (Ruth Fleming + Richie Lipschitz) Lexthan (Lex Foster + Ethan Green) Barneston (Tom Houston + Becky Barnes) Holloduke/Holloweane (Miss Holloway + Duke Keane) Swedish Barbecue (Trevor Lipschitz + Rudolph) I can see Tedlotte (Ted Spankoffski + Charlotte Sweetly) Legally Blonde (Gary Goldstein + Linda Monroe) in a "they have a regular affair" kinda way Alice and Deb if they work a bit on trust and boundaries And of course, Henry Hidgens and his six boyfriends

Ships I'll gladly stay away from, please and thank you: Max and Richie ANY Human x Lord in Black Paul and Emma with anyone but each other (they are fucking meant to be)

Any ship that wasn't mentioned in either, assume I'm neutral about it.

Other fandoms

Arcane. Arcane's undoubtedly the best story I've ever seen. It's the main inspiration behind my steampunk fantasy trilogy, and I fucking adore it.

Newsies. The first musical I liked! (The only other musical I actually care about-). It was my 2021 hyperfixation, as evidenced by the fact that I have an (now inactive) Instagram fan page with 700+ posts. If you wanna check it out, it's newsies_square.

While I'm not really active in any other fandoms, I do really like The Umbrella Academy, the Grishaverse (more specifically Six of Crows), The Good Place, Encanto, Gravity Falls, Modern Family and Brooklyn Nine-Nine.

Other platforms

I'm all over the place, baby B)

Instagram: vil.n.melling_cant.write (writing tips + writing memes + incorrect quotes + occasional content about my books) vil.n.melling_cant.draw (where I post my drawings) vil.n.melling_stealfromtherich (a page just for stuff about my book (titled Steal From The Rich)

YouTube Vil N. Melling. I've published one NPMD analysis (as well as a couple of other analysis and writing tip videos), and I'm planning on making a good few more of them!

TikTok vil.n.melling_cant.write (mostly book marketing, but also a few writing/reading memes)

I'll soon have my first Hatchetfield fanfic up on AO3, at which point this will be updated to feature my handle there!

[lovesickgolbach]

The Good Side - CL x MV

thank you for all the love on the first chapter of the good side on ao3 😭 in honor of this being my second proper fic with multiple chapters i made a mood board <3 chapter 2 is coming soon!!! i just have my clinicals tomorrow and i'll get to posting it after that :)

Read "The Good Side" here

Description: Charles leaves Europe to chase his dreams of making music. Max thinks he'll never see him again... well that is until the Monaco Grand Prix of 2021.

[flowersbane]

Hey Flowersbane I saw your requests post and thought Id send one in if that’s cool (*´꒳`*). Could I ask for a cute Joshua/Jote fic about one of the days they use to travel together, maybe where they finally take a days rest in one of the towns on their way to another lead, and Jote has to take care of Joshua so his condition doesn’t worsen? I hope that helps! (๑>◡<๑)

um, yes, absolutely, anon, you have inspired me greatly, thank you so much for your request! i hope you like it (=´∀｀)人(´∀｀=)

Stop & Smell the Roses, pt. 1

Joshua Rosfield x Jote

I tried to keep it concise, but I may have gotten ahead of myself. I’m definitely going to have to write a part 2 later, but I always get so eager & want to post what I have so far so here we are. I'll post this to AO3 once I've written the second part. At least there it can be a one shot. (lol)

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1.9k

Tags: Flower Festival, Jote Taking Care of Joshua, Joshua Being Joshua, Jote Getting A Wee Bit Frustrated, Unedited, Faerin Try To Write A One Shot Challenge: Failed

You can read part 2 here!

Jote was beginning to think the entire world was one big obstacle. Dhalmekia’s air was too dry, Sanbreque’s weather was too cold, and everywhere they went, someone was bound to be searching for them. Her and Joshua had been following a lead about an ancient text, holed up in the Crystalline Dominion’s oldest library. His Grace’s eagerness had kept them moving fast. The consequences of such were becoming more and more apparent each day.

The final village before their destination rolled into view. Jote quickened her pace to ensure that all was well. A few stray merchants traveled down the main road, but the path was otherwise clear. “Your Grace, I believe-”

Her words were interrupted by a coughing fit. Jote ran back to Joshua’s side, brows drawn with worry. “Your Grace?”

“I am fine,” he insisted. As he always did. “We can continue on to-”

Another bout of coughs stole the words from his mouth. Jote retrieved her canteen and passed it to him. He steadied himself enough to drink, but the water did little for his obvious exhaustion. “Your Grace, if we do not stop here, we will not make it to the city before dark. I beg of you, allow us to rest for the night in a warm inn, so you might recover some of your strength.”

He looked like he might continue arguing with her, so she kept speaking first. “You must allow me to take care of you, Your Grace. It would cost us many more days should you collapse on the road. I can see that you are tired, we both are, so please…”

His blue eyes studied her for a telling length of time. He wanted to press on, but he knew she spoke the truth. After a long pause, he finally relented. “Very well, Jote. We will rest here for the night and make for the city in the morning.”

Relief washed over her, but her expression remained mostly placid. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

They closed the distance between them and the village. It was small, with hardly any bearers in sight. Despite that, the town seemed to be in high spirits. Strings of flowers were strung over walkways, hung in place by nearby buildings. Brightly colored cloths decorated the walls, each intricately embroidered with large roses of varying designs. Villagers dashed from place to place, many of them carrying large, wooden crates. Joshua’s pace slowed. “What is all of this?”

A passing woman with a long, golden braid caught his words and responded, “Why, it’s the Festival of Bloom, of course. You’re lucky to have come when you did. The festival only comes once a year. And tomorrow’s the first day.” She gestured to a nearby store. “My dad sells the best rose wine in town and don’t let no one else tell you otherwise. Especially that good-for-nothing Lancel Saragon. His wine tastes like it was fished straight from the sewage.”

Jote wrinkled her nose at the imagery, but Joshua only smiled faintly. “I will be sure to keep that in mind.”

“Aye, you’d better. For your own sake too.”

The woman carried on, leaving Joshua and Jote to move forward as well. As they walked, Jote spoke. “It’s been a long time since we’ve happened upon an event such as this.”

“It has,” His Grace agreed. “It makes me wonder if this is some sort of sign.”

Jote turned her face to look at his. “Your Grace?”

A complicated smile overtook his features. “It is nothing,” he claimed. “Let us find a place to rest.”

The inn was near the town’s center. It was a building two stories high and made from dark wood. Joshua kept his hood up as they entered the building.

“Welcome,” greeted the innkeeper, “how may we be of service?”

“One room, two beds, please,” Jote said.

He pulled out a key from behind his desk. “We charge the standard rate. Your room is on the second floor. Go to your right, all the way down, and it’s the final room on your right.”

Jote paid the innkeeper and took the keys. When she turned back to face Joshua, she did not miss the way his hand fell to his side. She knew he had been pressing it to his chest in search of some relief. And, of course, he was trying to hide it from her.

“Lord Margrace,” she offered her arm as they neared the stairs.

She knew he was still getting used to accepting her help, even after all these years. His hesitation was predictable, but, thankfully, he accepted her offer. She supported him the entire way up, but he still began coughing once they reached the top. A line of worry formed between her brows. “Your condition is worse than you’ve led me to believe,” she observed.

“I am fine.”

She remained skeptical but continued to lead the way down the hall.

The room was ordinary. Two beds on either side of the room. A window across from the door. A desk and chair to their left, pressed up against the northern wall. Joshua sat on the bed closest to the window, as was his preference. Jote dropped her belongings on her bed and began to get to work.

“You should lay down, Your Grace. I will have your medicine ready shortly.”

Joshua remained sitting. “Do you think they will have special dishes for this event?” His question was so sudden that it made Jote freeze in her motion. Joshua recognized her surprise and quickly attempted to back pedal. “I was just thinking… it could be a good time to restock on supplies that are difficult to come by.”

She knew that was not what he had been thinking. She chose her next words carefully, as though she were attempting to coax a rabbit from its burrow. “There is a high possibility that the festival will draw in merchants from across the dominion,” she said, “maybe even beyond that.” She approached him with his medicine, placing it on the bedside table next to him. “If you are concerned about restocking, perhaps it would be best if we waited a day or two to see if more merchants arrive with valuable wares.”

His Grace seemed to consider this, nodding vaguely. “There were already a good amount of merchants on the road…”

“Yes,” Jote jumped at the opportunity, “there are bound to be more to come.”

Joshua made a final, decisive nod. “Alright, then we shall remain here for another day. Tomorrow, we will search the market for supplies.” She could have sworn she saw the corners of his lips curve upwards before he quickly pulled his mask of stoicism over his head. “You should get some rest as well, Jote.”

He laid back. Jote gave him a somewhat unamused stare. “Your medicine, Your Grace.” He hadn’t forgotten. He had only hoped that she would.

“Oh. Yes, of course.” He sat back up. He took the bottle in his hand but hesitated. “Jote, could you get the lamp?”

She got to her feet and did as he bid. When she turned back to him, he was bringing his hand down from his lips and placing the bottle back on the nightstand. She knew that if she opened the bottle, she would find it still full of medicine. She tried to communicate with him without words, but he was already laying back down with his back turned towards her.

“Thank you, Jote. Sleep well.”

She sighed. She would just have to hope that he would be more willing in the morning.

| • |

She did not have to wait until morning. Joshua’s coughing woke her only a few hours later. She sat up, expecting to see him in his bed, but startled when she saw that he was instead sitting on the windowsill. She yanked the blankets from herself. “Your grace!” she hissed.

He coughed a final time before looking over his shoulder at her. “Jote, apologies. I did not mean to wake you.” His words were followed by another coughing fit.

Jote stopped by his side, trying to control her frustration with him. Why, in good Greagor’s name, would he think she was upset at him for waking her? “First you refuse your medicine and then you refuse to rest. Remind me again, Your Grace, why we’ve stopped here if not for the betterment of your health.”

“I-” He stopped abruptly. He knew there was no point in arguing with her. Instead, he tried to change the direction of their conversation. “I have never seen you so angry.”

For a brief moment, it worked. She flinched back, embarrassed that she let her temper get the better of her, but then she recognized the glint in his eyes, the curve of his mouth. She frowned again. “Your Grace, please.”

He sighed. His attention turned back to the scene laid out before them. The town was alight with festivities. Glowing lights, distant music. “Forgive me, Jote. The scenery was just…” He trailed off.

Jote felt her heart soften. She dared to rest her hands on the sill, dared to follow his gaze.

It was as though the town had captured stars from the sky and lit their streets with them. In the dark, it was a lake’s reflection of the night sky. “There is nothing to forgive, Your Grace. I only wish that you would take care of yourself. Or, at least, allow me to take care of you.”

His blue eyes found her. She could make out his features in the low light, but even if it were pitch black outside, she would be able to picture him. He may wear a hood most of the time, but she was infinitely familiar with his face. She felt the rest of the world fade as she focused on him.

“Alright, Jote. I will go to sleep.”

He began coming down from the window sill. She had to step back to give him enough room to complete his maneuver. He stumbled on the way back down. She jolted forward to support him. She wrapped an arm around his waist as he draped his arm over her shoulders. “Let me help you to bed, Your Grace.”

He nodded. She helped him lower himself into a lying position. When she began to pull away, he grabbed her hand. He was gentle, but the gesture was unexpected enough to startle her. “I will take my medicine now,” he said.

She breathed a sigh of relief. She took the bottle from the table and opened it. She looked to him for permission before placing one of her hands under his head, the other carefully guiding the bottle to his lips.

His hair was soft between her fingers. She focused on maintaining the tilt of the medicine bottle. He drank it, but made a face as it went down. Once all the medicine was gone, she pulled the bottle back and sealed it once more.

“Thank you, Jote.”

She sat back on the edge of his bed. “Of course, Your Grace.”

“I’m sure I would have perished long ago without you by my side. I know it has not always easy, but I’m glad you have remained with me.”

The rate of her heartbeat picked up. “I wouldn’t leave your side for anything, Your Grace. For anything.”

A soft smile graced his lips as the medicine began kicking in, guiding him into an easy slumber.

(Link to part 2)

[waratah-moon]

A Grim Old Place for a Reunion

With war around the corner, the Order of the Phoenix has reassembled and Sirius has asked Harry and his aunt, Violet, to stay with him in London. After 14 long years, Violet Evans is about to be reunited with the only man she ever loved. masterlist / read on ao3

Word count: 2.7k

Pairing: Post-Azkaban Sirius Black x Violet Evans (fem Evans!OC)

Warnings: old fashioned smut (not a lot, but it's there), not beta read

"Sirius!" Harry barrelled past his Aunt to embraced the long haired man in the hallway.

"Hello Harry," Sirius smiled, hugging him close. When he finally released the boy, he looked past him into the hallway to see the blonde woman he'd been waiting for. "Violet."

"Sirius," she nodded, taking a step towards him.

"This must be the first time I've properly seen you in-"

"Fourteen years," she finished the sentence for him. Apart from meeting under extraneous circumstances - the shrieking shack during Harry's third year and Harry's almost death during the Triwizard tournament debacle - they hadn't seen each other since the night James and Lily were killed.

"Uh, you look good. How have you been?" Sirius looked awkward now, his hands were in his pockets and his foot was kicking the fringe on the edge of the carpet runner. If Harry hadn't known better, he would have thought his godfather was attempting to flirt with his Aunt.

But Harry didn't know better. Remus did. He coughed, taking the attention off Sirius and placing it on himself. "Does anyone want tea?"

"Tea! Yes, uh, you do that and I'll show Harry to his room. C'mon Harry, this way," Sirius led Harry up the narrow staircase and disappeared around the corner, levitating his godson's trunk in front of him.

-

"He's been excited for you both to arrive, but I don’t think he thought through what he would say to you," Remus led the way into the basement kitchen.

“Hello would have been fine,” Violet took a seat on the bench tucked under the wooden table in the centre of the kitchen.

"Since when has Sirius ever done things the simple way?" Remus flicked his wand and the kettle began to boil. He pulled four mugs from the shelf above the stove. "He spent twelve years in prison and another two on the run. He's a bit out of practice with his social skills. You need to go easy on him."

"I know, but he can't possibly expect things to just go back to how they were fourteen years ago. I have Harry to think about."

"And have you told Harry what your relationship with his godfather was like?" Remus was busying himself making the tea, adding sugar and milk to Violet's, just like he had done all those years ago.

"Of course not," Violet’s face flushed and she flicked back a piece of hair that had fallen in her eyes.

"I don't think Harry would mind if his godparents got together," he set the mugs of tea on the table and sat down, he pushed the pale blue one towards Violet.

"I think your getting a bit a head of yourself, Remus. I've barely spoken to him, let alone-" she drifted off as she heard two pairs of feet coming down the basement stairs. Seconds later, Harry and Sirius were entering the kitchen.

"Aunty Vi, Sirius says that Ron's coming tomorrow, can I write to Hermione and ask her to come too? Sirius said I had to ask you."

"Uh," her eyes switched from Harry to Sirius, who shrugged in response, back to Harry. "If it's alright with her parents and Sirius-"

"Cool, I'll got write to her now!" He grinned and raced back up the stairs.

"Did Remus tell you the Weasley's were coming to stay?" Sirius sat down opposite Violet and took a sip from his mug.

"He mentioned it, yes. He also said this was going to be order headquarters. It doesn't seem as lively as I would have expected."

Sirius grinned. "First meeting's Friday. This place has been sitting empty since my mother's death so I was hoping you and Harry would help me make it more hospitable."

"Ah, so that's why you asked us to stay. To do chores?"

"It's not like Kreacher's much help."

"Kreacher's still around? I thought he'd be long dead."

"So did I, but no, the cretin is still his same miserable self."

"I bet he loved it when you walked through the door. Y'know, being a blood traitor and all."

“You should have heard what my mother said when I walked through the door. Or her portrait at least.” He took a swig of his tea. He could see Remus smiling out of the corner of his eye and was acutely aware of what his best friend must be thinking. But this was not flirting. He was not flirting with Violet Evans, it was just a conversation between old friends.

He cleared his throat. “I took your bag up to your room, by the way. I'll show you to it after you finish your tea.”

Violet tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "that would be great, Sirius. Thank you."

-

Harry requested Chinese food for dinner, so Violet and Remus walked around Islington until they found a place that did take-away. Most of the evening was spent in polite conversation, Remus wondering how Violet had been since they last spoke and Harry begging Sirius to tell him about Dumbledore's mission. It was ten past nine when Remus excused himself and Violet was able to head up to what would be her room for the rest of the summer.

Sirius had told her it was once his mother's room, and he seemed delighted knowing that having a muggleborn sleep in her bed would have her rolling in her grave, or at least cursing from behind the thick velvet curtains hiding her portrait.

The bedroom was exactly what was to be expected from a pureblood matriarch. A massive four-poster sat between two oak nightstands. An unlit fireplace was at far end of the room with an armchair and a love seat sitting before it. Lastly, a regal armoire, which was no doubt home to a boggart, sat next to a vanity table and a door leading to the ensuite. Violet had to admit, it was a very nice room. She'd given the bed a once over with her wand, eliminating a thick coating of dust from the covers, before laying down. The mattress and pillows were firm, no doubt speaking to the character of Walburga Black, but Violet could see getting a reasonable nights sleep here.

A gentle knock came at the door and she sat up, "come in."

It was Sirius. He looked around the room, taking note of the absence of dust, "I see you're using your wand again."

"With you-know-who's return I thought it was inevitable."

Sirius stepped further into the room, shutting the door softly behind him, "I thought we should talk. We may not get another chance when order members start showing up."

"That's probably a good idea," she got off the bed and motioned to the chairs by the fire.

They each took an end of the love seat. She flicked her wand and flames crackled to life in the fireplace.

"How much have you told Harry?"

"About what, specifically?"

"About everything. About his parents, about their death, about the war, about… us."

She ignored the last part, "he knows about his parents, what they were like. You could tell him more about James than I can, and he knows about how they died. But I haven’t told him about the Order, he's too young for that."

"He's going to need to know about it now."

"No, Sirius. He's got enough to worry about without adding the Order to it."

"Violet, he's as much apart of the Order as you or me-"

"Absolutely not, Sirius."

They were silent for a moment before Sirius spoke again. "What about me? What have you told him about me?"

"He hasn't really asked me about you. He knows you. He writes to you. What do you expect me to tell him?"

"So he hasn't asked if we were friends at Hogwarts?"

"What are you getting at?"

Sirius sighed, "I guess I'm asking if you told him we were together."

Violet laughed. It was the first time she'd properly laughed in a long time. "You think I talk to my fifteen-year-old nephew about old boyfriends? Oh, yeah, let me tell him how I dated Elliot Marsh during fifth year while I'm at it."

Sirius huffed, "I think we more than dated, Violet. Don't you think it's important that Harry knows it? We were suppose to raise him together."

"But we didn't, Sirius. I raised him. You got yourself thrown in Azkaban."

"Bit of a low blow, don't ya think?"

"You didn't even tell me where you were going that night. Hagrid showed up on your bike with Harry and said you had 'other business', next thing I know, they've thrown you in Azkaban for killing Peter and those muggles, and being in service to you-know-who"

"I should have told you I wasn't the secret keeper."

"Yeah, well, it doesn't matter anymore, does it," she gazed at the fire. "You know, I never believed you were one of them. I knew you didn't have a dark mark, but I was positive you weren't in league with them. I told Remus as much and he called me crazy. That's why we didn't stay in touch when Harry was growing up."

"Because you didn't think I killed Lily and James?"

"Because I know you couldn't have."

"What did you tell Harry when I escaped?"

She smiled, "I didn't correct him when he asked if you were a crazed lunatic, if that's what you're asking."

Sirius laughed.

"I didn't get a chance to tell you earlier, but you look good, Sirius."

"Dumbledore gave me a potion when I saw him last. I didn't ask what was in it but it seems to have done the trick," he raked his fingers through his shoulder length curls. "You look just the same. Beautiful as ever."

"C'mon, Harry's given me worry lines. He's so much like James."

"I've noticed that."

“The worry lines?”

“No,” Sirius shook his head with a laugh, “that he’s a mini James. You’ve done a great job with him,” his tone was genuine.

“I’ve tried my best,” she nodded, fighting back the tears that were stinging the corners of her eyes, remembering the first few months of raising Harry alone. The trouble she had getting him to sleep and eat, the constant nightmares and screams. She blamed Sirius for making her go through it alone, how stupid could he have been to get thrown in Azkaban like that? “It would have been easier with you.”

“C’mon, you didn’t need me. If anything I would have recked the kid. I’d have been a terrible influence and you know it.”

“You’re here now, and from what Harry’s told me you haven’t been doing a bad job,” her hand moved to his thigh as she spoke. “And while I may not of needed you in the end, I never stopped wanting you.”

Suddenly Sirius couldn’t help himself, he had to kiss her. He pulled her close to him and kissed her deeply. She reacted immediately, returning the kiss with the same hunger and intensity. The next few moments happened in a blur, their clothes came off in a tangle of limbs and the only time they pulled away was to toss a shirt over the love seat or to gasp for air. Violet’s hands instinctively went to his belt, undoing the buckle and helping him shed his jeans. Sirius moved his lips down Violets neck to her exposed chest, kissing each freckle across her pale skin. His hand moved further ahead of him, tracing across the elastic band of her underwear and between her thighs, ghosting the part of her that needed him the most.

“We’re not twenty anymore, no need for teasing,” she moaned, lifting her hips up to try and meet his hand.

“It’s been fourteen years since I’ve touched you, let me saviour the feeling.” His fingers dipped below the fabric of her underwear and Violet let out a gasp as she felt his fingers gather the wetness at her entrance before tracing circles against her clit. “You always did get wet so easily.”

“Only when you were the one touching me.”

“And who’s touched you since I’ve been gone?”

“Sirius,” she warned, her breath hitching as he sped up his movements.

“I just want to know if anyone’s made you feel as good as I do.”

“Not even close,” she said truthfully.

She’d been with men in the period Sirius had been in Azkaban, she’d even had a few boyfriends, but none of them had made her feel like Sirius had. In fact the only time she’d ever finished was when she was alone, remembering the way Sirius had touched her. And now that it was his actual hands on her skin, she could feel herself approaching the edge.

“Good. Wanna remind you how good I can make you feel,” and he pulled his hand away.

“Sirius,” she whined, fidgeting her hips at the lost of the sensation.

“Aw princess, I’m sorry but I promise this’ll feel so much better,” the pet name rolled off his tongue as easy as it had 14 years ago.

He pulled his underwear off and Violet moved up the couch, propping the cushions against the arm of the love seat to give her a place to rest. She followed Sirius’s lead and took off her underwear, wrapping her legs around his hips as he lowered himself between her legs.

Their lips joined together, but this time the kiss was slow and tender. They melted together like no time at all had passed, a familiar comfort in their embrace.

Violet relaxed as she felt Sirius enter her, giving her a moment to adjust before he began a slow and steady pace.

His forehead was resting against hers now, murmurs of “I missed you,” and “you feel so good,” fell from their lips.

It was like she was being transported back 14 years ago, back to when she and Sirius shared that cramped little flat in Soho, back when she had less responsibilities and her only worry was if the floo network to work would mess up her hair. Being with Sirius felt like the first time she’d been home in a long time.

Sirius’s breathing was heavier now and his pace had quickened, Violet snaked her hand now between her legs to rub circles on the spot that Sirius had been tending to before. Their kisses were getting sloppy now, and Sirius moved from her lips to her neck and chest, leaving marks that she knew she’d have to vanish in the morning. “Sirius, I’m close,” she breathed, her fingers drawing tighter circles as her toes curled.

“Me too, wanna finish together, okay princess?”

She nodded, too overwhelmed to speak.

“Three,” he kept the same steady pace, his hips bucking against hers. “Two,” she could feel sweat trickling down her neck and across her chest. “One.” Her walls clenched around him and he groaned, burying his face into her neck as he released. Her thighs shook as they rode out their highs, movements messy as they tried to maintain the feeling.

After a while they finally pulled apart, hair sticking to their foreheads and breathing heavy.

“C’mere,” he pulled her against him, her back leaning against his chest as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “That was amazing.”

“I know,” she picked up his hand and intertwined their fingers, resting her head on his shoulder and looking up at him.

Sirius’s eyes scanned her naked form, drinking in the sight of her. She looked exactly how he remembered, the very image that got him through many a lonely night both in Azkaban and in hiding. Although there were some things different about her. Sirius noticed a bouquet of flowers tattooed on her ankle. Lilies, he noted, she must have gotten them for her sister. A familiar constellation was also inked on the skin above her hip that made him smile.

“What’s this?” Sirius’s thumb grazed the spot his eyes couldn’t leave.

“A tattoo,” Violet bit her bottom lip, watching him trace the inking on her skin.

“It’s the Canis Major.”

“I was wondering when you’d notice it,” she caught his finger tracing the design and placed it upon the Sirius star, which was marked with asterisk-like lines. “I never stopped thinking about you, Sirius.” She rolled over so her chin was pressed against his chest, her eyes gazing into his. “Never.”

“Even when all those blokes took your attention?”

“There weren’t that many,” she huffed, her hand resting on the flower tattoo above his heart, the violet he’d gotten in seventh year. “It’s always been you.”

-

excerpt from a longer fic I've been writing for a long long time. Comments and messages much appreciated xx

[the-knightmare]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks to @daddygrandpaandthebeaver for the tag.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

30

2. What’s your total word count?

44,659

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I write for mostly The Legend of Zelda and Bob's Burgers, but I have written for Escape Room and had thoughts about Six of Crows stuff. And that one Uncle Obi-Wan fic I did for flufftober last year.

4. Top 5 fics by kudos

Too Late

Seeking Solace With You

A Life Interrupted

Stay in Bed

I Met You in a Closet

The first and third aren't surprising, they're both older works of mine. Too Late is an angsty coldfalsh fic I wrote back when I was into the the Flash/Legends of Tomorrow. A Life Interrupted is my unfinished Roudise soulmate au (perhaps the upcoming theme week will motivate me to finish).

I was actually really happy to see Seeking Solace With You to be the second most popular. It's one that I'm proud of, and put a bit more into emotion-wise.

I'm actually surprised Stay in Bed and I Met You in a Closet (both zelink) made it into the top five as I didn't think they were my best works.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I respond to some of them. I'm a bit shy/anxious and I tend to overthink what I say. I absolutely love every comment I get, and I read every one even if I'm slow to respond.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

That would be Too Late, as it deals with the aftermath of The Flash's season three finale where Barry enters the speedforce (I had to refresh my memory of what happened it's been so long, haha).

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Since I love happy endings, there's a few of them. I'll highlight two and cheat a little:

A Call to Ears: A roudise fic where Louise catches Rudy trying on her bunny ears.

And

Dancing with Freckles and Glasses: a Telink fic post Wind Waker where Link helps Tetra practice dancing before a ball.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Luckily no, even when I make typos and errors.

9. Do you write smut?

I do not. The most I do is hint and let readers make their own decisions.

10. Do you write crossovers?

No, not really.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

As far as I know, I have not.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have not.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I cheat again, as I love both Roudise and zelink.

But I also love a lot of ships that I don't write, but read and enjoy canon material of.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

There are a few I have in early stages of writing in notebooks or scraps in a word doc, not much of note.

I suppose A Life Interrupted is one that I have no idea if I'll actually finish since I would have to think of a new way to end it. A good gist of what I may have originally meant as an ending can be read in Hidden in Plain Slide where I have some of my headcannon of Louise not liking things changing is on display, as well as the running away after a confession.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I had a comment on a fic that mentioned nonsexual intimacy and friendship underlying the characters attraction, and I would say that I always try to write relationships that feel balanced in their romantic elements.

I also think I've learned how to tell when something is working and when something is needed to make it work. Especially keeping character's true to their characterizations as best I can. So long as it sounds proper, I'm happy.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Finishing multi-chapter fics. It haunts me that I haven't finished A Life Interrupted, and every so often I think of it.

I could stand to go over my writing for typos and mistakes more. If I think about it too much, I'm sure I could think of a million things.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language?

I could only do French outside of English, but I wouldn't. While I'm technically bilingual, I'm fairly rusty and don't have confidence to write a whole story in French.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

It would either be Harry Potter or the City of Ember all the way back in my fanfic.org days.

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

I'm going to cheat again and list some I haven't mentioned yet:

Morning Person (roudise)

Burger Approval (zekina, with the Bob and Zeke relationship as a focus)

Lies Carved in Stone (zelink)

This was an interesting one. For tags, if anyone wants to do it, then feel free.

[kaliawai512-v2]

Butterscotch Pie - Chapter 26

You know what, to heck with it - I'm about to start work for the day, might as well get this chapter out in case anyone wants to go ahead and read XD I'll post again on AO3 when it's back up!

If by some awful chance AO3 is still down in a few days, I'll plan to continue posting Butterscotch Pie chapters on the usual Tuesday/Saturday posting schedule.

Hope everyone enjoys!

Chapter 26

Papyrus wishes things could be the same as before, but he knows, deep down, that they never will be.

But … maybe that’s not completely a bad thing.

He wishes that Toriel wasn’t mad at Dad, but he knows that’s a lot like asking Sans not to be mad at Dad. Which he isn’t going to do. Because Sans is mad, and Papyrus knows why, even if he doesn’t really understand it. And Toriel is a lot like Sans.

And Papyrus loves them both very much.

He loves his whole family. Sans and Toriel and Asgore and Dad. He wants them all to be happy, but maybe they don’t have to get along all the way to be happy. Maybe he can be okay with that.

And they can still have good days, all of them together, even if it isn’t perfect.

Like tonight, when Papyrus asked Asgore to stay for dinner, and now there’s five of them in the kitchen, cooking together.

The kitchen definitely wasn’t made to hold five people—especially when two of them are really big—but Papyrus likes it. There’s a lot of talking and movement and energy, and he can’t forget where and when he is even for a second. And Toriel lets Papyrus help a lot with the cooking. He spills the food sometimes because he stirs really hard, and sometimes he puts in the wrong amount of something, but she never gets mad. She just smiles and laughs and helps him fix it.

Asgore helps in small, quiet ways, and Dad … Dad doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself, and just stands off to the side looking awkward. But Papyrus does his best to invite him to help with measuring or stirring, and Dad goes along with it without saying a word.

Even Sans is helping—in the laziest way possible, sitting on the counter and mixing things when Toriel passes them to him. Still, he let Toriel lift him up and put him in that spot, so Papyrus will count that as a success, too.

It all feels a little like the time in the lab, when He took them to the new room—that would have been the kitchen, right?—and showed them how to make noodles. And they ate together and the food was good and everything was quiet and nice and so close to happy.

It feels like that, but so much better.

Because this is … their life. 

Today is special because they’re all cooking together, but it’s not a one-time event. They won’t go back to a cell after this. They’re not going to be tortured tomorrow. They’ll eat the food together and play games and do puzzles and read books until it’s time for bed, then Toriel will read them a story and he and Sans will sleep curled up in a warm, comfortable bed.

They’ll keep doing that, every day. Maybe for the rest of their lives. Or maybe not. But even if it changes … Papyrus knows that whatever it changes into will be something good.

“Papyrus, dear, could you check on the sauce, please?” Toriel asks, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Papyrus turns to her and smiles.

“OF COURSE!” He runs over to the stove, grabs the wooden spoon, and stirs it a few times. He nods to himself. “IT’S THICKENING!”

“Oh, lovely. It’s almost done, then. Help me get a bowl for it, would you?”

Papyrus nods again and heads off to the cabinet where Toriel keeps the larger serving dishes.

He’s seen her get them a few times before, so he knows where he learned it. But he doesn’t remember her showing him how to check sauces or chop vegetables or … a lot of the things he does in the kitchen. He just sort of knows how to do them. He’s never questioned it much before now, and he’s not sure he wants to start. 

She’s mentioned him doing those things before, though. In the life he doesn’t really remember. In the life he must kind of remember, because he knows how to do those things. Sometimes he looks around and swears he can see himself doing those things, but he doesn’t know if it’s because he did them in exactly that way or just because he knows he must have done them. Because all of this feels so familiar, even though it’s new.

Looking around now … it’s easy to forget that he hasn’t always lived here.

He doesn’t really know if the almost-memories he has actually happened. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever have more than he has now. That still makes him a little sad. He has the videos and the pictures, but there are a lot of things that aren’t in those. Things that Asgore and Toriel talk about, and probably things they don’t remember well enough to tell him. Good moments with Dad that he’ll never get to experience.

He’ll probably always be sad about that.

But he’s here now. They’re here now. They’re living this life, and they get to keep living it. They get to keep getting better. They get to keep being happy—even if they’re not happy all the time.

Papyrus is happy.

And Sans … Sans is happy sometimes. A lot more than he was before. He’s peaceful now, not just sleepy or lazy. He’s looking around the kitchen from his spot on the counter, with the face he wears when he’s lost in his thoughts. But there’s no tension. No worry. No pain.

That’s good enough for now.

“Sans?” Toriel calls over.

Sans turns to face her. “yeah?”

Toriel smiles. A smile Papyrus knows just a little too well. 

“What kind of beans do you find in a measuring cup?”

Sans’s own smile shifts into something that almost matches hers. “what kind?”

Papyrus tenses, but he doesn’t have time to open his mouth to protest before Toriel holds up the half-filled measuring cup in her hand.

“Pint-o beans!”

Both of them burst out into uncontrolled laughter. Asgore covers his mouth to hold back his snickers, and Dad turns his head to hide his own smirk. Papyrus makes a noise through his teeth, fists clenched as he shakes them up and down. 

“WE’RE NOT EVEN EATING PINTO BEANS! THAT’S WASTEFUL!”

But Toriel and Sans just keep on laughing, and even as Papyrus huffs, he can’t bring himself to actually be upset. Because Sans’s smile is real, and Papyrus doesn’t think he’ll ever stop appreciating it.

Still, it’s nice when Toriel moves over to Papyrus and gives him a quick but warm hug. His irritated frown fades, just a bit, and when she smiles down at him, he can’t help but smile back.

Dinner is done a few minutes later, and they all start bringing the serving dishes over to the table. Papyrus smiles at the sight of his golden flower, sitting right in the center. It’s grown big now. Just as big and yellow and bright as the flowers in Asgore’s castle. It’s been the centerpiece for the last few days. Asgore has told him twice how well it’s turned out—and how he must have taken very good care of it—and Papyrus still feels warm from the compliments.

It feels nice to look at it while he eats, because flowers take time to grow, and the fact that this flower is full-grown means that Papyrus and his brother have been here for a while. 

There’s a little decoration next to it, too, that Sans finished a couple of days ago when Alphys came over. She’s been showing him how to use the chemistry set she bought him for their birthday. Papyrus isn’t really sure what they made, except that it’s pretty and a lot of different colors and inside one of Toriel’s little glass jars. 

They’re still using it to make other things, and every time, Sans looks a little more comfortable. A little less like he’s doing the kind of thing Dad would do.

Papyrus hopes that one day, maybe … it won’t matter if it’s the kind of thing Dad would do. As long as it makes Sans happy.

But for now, this is good.

Papyrus brings the last plate of food to the table, and five of them sit down to eat. It’s a little weird to see all the chairs filled, but good-weird. Maybe something that they’ll do more often in the future. Sans starts eating first, like he always does, with Papyrus and Toriel next, and Asgore and Dad last. 

For a minute, they just eat. Enjoying the food. Toriel always makes good food, and Papyrus is extra proud because he helped this time. Then Asgore hums, thoughtful, as he finishes his current bite.

“You know, I think I remember eating this together before.”

Toriel gives him a strange look. “Yes, it’s one of my regular recipes.”

Asgore shakes his head.

“Oh, no, I mean … the three of us. You, me and Gaster.” 

Sans looks up from his food. His brow bone scrunches, but he doesn’t say anything. He looks at Asgore, then at Toriel, then at Dad, like he just found a missing piece to a puzzle and is trying to figure out where it fits.

“I think you made this one day after the war, after we’d settled into our first home,” Asgore goes on. “You made it for Gaster’s birthday, if I remember correctly.”

Papyrus perks up. “OH! DID YOU ALWAYS LIVE TOGETHER?”

Asgore blinks and looks to him, then smiles. It’s a little sad.

“No, we … actually didn’t for quite some time. Toriel moved back here after the two of you were born. But yes, when your father was young, we all lived together in a house in the Ruins.” His smile widens. “Your father wasn’t too much older than the both of you, actually.”

“I was a teenager,” Dad mutters. He’s staring at his plate more intently than Papyrus thinks the food deserves, even though it’s very good.

Asgore chuckles. 

“Well, a few years difference, certainly,” he says. “And you were already so tall! But still so young, comparatively.”

Dad ducks his head lower. His cheekbones look pink. “Compared to centuries old, I suppose.”

Asgore laughs. Toriel smiles, just a little, just for a few seconds. She looks like she doesn’t want to smile, but there’s a fondness to it, and it makes a weight in Papyrus’s chest lift. 

Things are going to be different now. They’re going to be different for a long time, and maybe forever. Maybe Toriel will never look at Dad the same again.

But the warmth on her face isn’t gone.

So Papyrus isn’t going to give up.

Asgore hasn’t said anything about what Dad … did to them, and he hasn’t acted any differently to Dad, so Papyrus doesn’t think he knows yet. Part of him hopes that he never finds out, but he also knows it’s going to happen. Toriel will probably say something, because apparently this is something very important, and even if she doesn’t … well. Papyrus knows he’s not very good at lying, and Sans doesn’t have any reason to keep this a secret anymore.

Papyrus hopes that it won’t be too bad, when he finds out.

But he thinks it’ll be okay. 

The rest of dinner is … comfortable. Not perfect, but good, Papyrus thinks. Sans and Toriel make more of their irritating puns. Asgore tells more stories about their childhood—and about Dad’s. Papyrus tells everyone what he’s been doing at school, and everyone listens—even Dad.

“Sans, Papyrus, are you both ready for dessert?” Toriel asks, when their plates are almost empty.

Papyrus smiles and nods, and even Sans’s eyelights brighten a little. He loves Toriel’s pie.

Toriel gives them both a smile in return, then heads back into the kitchen. She comes back with five plates and the pie tin—apple cinnamon today—cutting a big slice for each of them. She gives Dad his slice second to last, then Asgore. Papyrus decides not to think too hard about whether that means anything.

Besides, the pie is really good! Toriel’s pies always are. Not too sweet and always fresh. 

Papyrus watches Dad while they eat, and his face softens with each bite. He wonders how many times Dad has eaten this kind of pie before. He wonders if he ate it when he was younger. Smaller. Maybe not as small as them, but … still small. It’s strange to think that Dad used to be as small as them, too.

Maybe he had never even thought of hurting anyone, that far back.

It takes a minute for Dad to notice him looking at him—or maybe it just takes a minute for him to let himself look over. He meets Papyrus’s eyes with his one good one, and Papyrus gives him a soft but warm smile.

Dad blinks. Papyrus has smiled at him plenty before, but maybe … maybe Dad can tell this is different. Maybe Dad can tell all that he’s trying to say with that one smile.

Papyrus thinks he does, because after a long few seconds, Dad gives him a very small smile in return.

It doesn’t last long, but to Papyrus, it feels like how he imagines the sun. 

Then they go back to dinner. Papyrus goes back to talking to Toriel and Asgore and Sans, and Dad goes back to looking at his pie, taking bites here and there.

He doesn’t look happy, exactly. Papyrus isn’t sure he knows how to be happy, and he has a lot to be sad about.

But he looks … content?

Papyrus thinks that’s the right word.

Dad made a choice. 

He made a good choice.

It’s a choice that hurts him, and will probably always hurt him, at least a little. But it was a good choice. It was a choice for them.

And Papyrus thinks … Dad’s still happy he made it.

[aadmelioraa]

"I'll make some tea." + Aldhelm

This is for you and also for @aelflaeds who requested a fill for the same prompt. Enjoy!!

Aethelflaed x Aldhelm, Aelfwynn x Cynlaef, Aldhelm & Aelfwynn, Modern AU, 1.9k, rated T.

Aelfwynn brings her new boyfriend home without warning, which is how Aethelflaed and Aldhelm discover she has a boyfriend at all. Luckily, Cynlaef knows how to break the ice (ok maybe not, but he's trying his best).

read below or on ao3

It had been a quiet and productive spring day for Aldhelm—unbelievably productive, actually. He’d finished grading the last of his term papers, cleaned the entire kitchen, and even reorganised the pantry. He couldn't reasonably ask more of a Friday afternoon.

He’s ahead of schedule, as Aethelflaed isn’t due home for another two hours, and just deciding how to make use of his spare time—begin reorganising the library, perhaps?—when he hears the doorbell. It’s probably a delivery person. He needs to get the post anyway.

But when he reaches the front door, the young man standing before him and holding a box is not in uniform. Furthermore, he appears tongue tied, opening and closing his mouth without saying a word.

Aldhelm frowns at him as he opens the postbox. “You can set that down, I’ll take it in a moment.”

The young man stares, his head tilted like a dog who’s been asked to wait for a treat.

“Did you need a signature?” Aldhelm prompts. The man—more a boy, really—doesn’t appear to have a clue as to how to do his job.

“No—that’s alright—“ the young man stammers.

“Aldhelm?” Aelfwynn appears at the bottom of the steps, a weekend bag slung over her shoulder. She removes her sunglasses to stare up at him, her eyebrows raised in amusement.

Aldhelm tucks the mail under his arm. He’s not sure what he’s done to entertain her, but he will no doubt find out before long. “Aelfwynn, hello. What are you doing here?”

The delivery man is still frozen in place, clutching the box to his chest as if he intends to take up permanent residence on the porch. Aldhelm shoots him a sidewise glance and wonders if he will have to forcibly escort him off the premises. He reaches out to accept the box, but the man looks to Aelfwynn as if for permission to release it. Perhaps it’s addressed to a woman. Aldhelm looks for a delivery label—he doesn’t see one.

“I do live here, technically,” Aelfwynn answers good-naturedly as she makes her way up the steps. “Gosh, it’s a nice day.” She gives a friendly smile to the young man with the box, but as she turns back to Aldhelm she furrows her brow.

“Your mother and I thought you were returning tomorrow, that's all,” Aldhelm explains. “Are you expecting a delivery?”

“Delivery?” Aelfwynn asks. “No, we came back a day early. Didn’t think you and Mum would mind.”

“We?” Aldhelm asks.

The man with the box has relaxed slightly now that Aelfwynn is beside him. Aelfwynn’s hand brushes his elbow. The space between them narrows. Ah.

“My apologies,” Aldhelm manages. “I didn’t realise.”

“You’re being so awkward.” Aelfwynn purses her lips. “Are you going to let us in?”

Aldhelm steps back, allowing them to proceed into the house. The young man hesitates on the doorstep until Aelfwynn finds his hand and pulls him in after her.

So they’re that sort of an “us.” Aelfwynn hasn’t brought a boyfriend home before. But it’s inevitable. She’s eighteen, after it. It’s completely normal—good, even. It means she wants them to meet him. That’s more than Aldhelm had expected, if he's honest.

Aelfwynn leaves her bag at the foot of the stairs, but directs the young man to bring the box into the kitchen, where he gently sets it on the counter.

“Your mother isn’t home yet,” Aldhelm says.

“I thought we might beat her here.” Aelfwynn reaches into the refrigerator for a pitcher of water. She pulls two glasses from the cupboard next, and pours a drink for her and her guest.

The young man is smiling, and un-smiling, every few seconds. He seems afraid to make eye contact with Aldhelm, instead he admires his surroundings and nods regularly at nothing in particular.

Aldhelm raises a hand in a commanding fashion, and the young man finally looks towards him. The simple gesture always works in the classroom, and it gratifies Aldhelm to know it works here too. “I’m Aldhelm, Aelfwynn’s step-father.”

“Oh, I know,” the young man replies earnestly, then stops himself abruptly from continuing, looking to Aelfwynn as if he’d said the wrong thing.

“Aldhelm, this is Cynlaef,” Aelfwynn supplies, a proud smile on her face.

“Hello, Cynlaef,” Aldhelm says, his eyes narrowing slightly as he extends his hand. “I assume you know Aelfwynn from university?”

“Yes, sir,” Cynlaef says, smiling eagerly. His handshake is firm—a little too firm. He certainly can’t be accused of not trying.

“Cynlaef’s my boyfriend,” Aelfwynn continues, jumping onto the kitchen counter behind her.

“I see.” Aldhelm raises his eyebrows. “And how long have you two been dating?”

“A few months,” Cynlaef says, gravitating towards Aelfwynn, still clutching his glass of water. “Her cousin Aethelstan’s a friend of mine.”

Aelfwynn rakes her fingers through Cynlaef’s hair in an absentminded fashion. “They’re both on the Rugby team.”

Rugby. Naturally.

Aldhelm smiles. “Cynlaef, would you excuse us for a moment?” He jerks his head towards the next room. Aelfwynn rolls her eyes but hops off the counter and follows.

They proceed into the living area, which serves as office, entertaining space, and the occasional interrogation room. Aldhelm leans against a bookcase. Aelfwynn sinks onto the arm of a reading chair, her expression equally expectant and defiant.

“I assume your mother isn’t aware of Cynlaef,” Aldhelm begins.

“Haven’t mentioned him yet.” Aelfwynn shrugs her shoulder casually. “It’s not a big deal, though, is it?”

Aldhelm briefly presses the bridge of his nose. Aelfwynn’s timing has never been worse, and that was saying something. “No, it's not, but she’s finishing a big case today—“

“Oh.”

“Notice wouldn't have hurt, that’s all,” he continues, keeping his voice as cheerful as he can.

Aelfwynn grimaces up at him. “I didn’t know about the case.”

“Right.” Aldhelm exhales. Aelfwynn and Aethelflaed haven’t talked much recently. Perhaps this is Aelfwynn’s way of making an effort to change that.

“You’re making a face. Are you going to lecture me about healthy relationships or something?” Aelfwynn asks, her expression souring.

“No, I’ll leave that for your mother,” Aldhelm says dryly.

Aelfwynn snorts.

Aldhelm glances back towards the kitchen. Cynlaef is standing exactly where Aelfwynn had left him, staring across the room, face blank. “He seems…”

“He’s really sweet, you’ll like him,” Aelfwynn insists. “And you should come to a match. He’s brilliant.” She crosses and uncrosses her arms. “I hope Mum isn’t too put out. I didn’t want to give her time to overthink it—“

“Well you certainly haven’t done that.”

Aelfwynn wrinkles her nose. “I know, I know. You could have warned me about the case.”

“If I had known I needed to—“

But before they can discuss further, there’s a noise at the front door.

“She’s home early,” Aldhelm says in a low voice, pushing off the bookcase.

“Oh, fuck.” Aelfwynn barrels into the kitchen, Aldhelm on her heels.

Cynlaef turns toward them, wide-eyed, then the door opens and Aethelflaed appears, perfectly composed despite being weighed down by a briefcase, a large tote bag, and a portable file box. She beams at the sight of Aelfwynn, then her smile fades slightly at the sight of Cynlaef—she quickly recovers, of course, and forces a brighter smile, albeit a more artificial one.

Aldhelm crosses towards her and relieves her of her bags and case files, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Aelfwynn’s home early, and she’s brought a guest.”

“I can see that,” Aethelflaed replies, the line between her brow flickering as she searches his face for an answer to her many unspoken questions.

He shakes his head, and she sighs, then turns back towards the young couple.

“Hi, Mum.” Aelfwynn slides towards her, allowing her mother to pull her into a hug. “Sorry to show up early. I thought you’d be happy about it.”

“I am,” Aethelflaed says warmly. “Who’s your friend, darling?”

“Mum, this is Cynlaef,” Aelfwynn says hesitantly. “My boyfriend.”

Cynlaef eagerly extends a hand, which Aethelflaed accepts. “Really nice to meet you. Aelfwynn has told me so much about you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Aethelflaed replies humorously, turning to Aldhelm.

It's then that Aldhelm remembers that he had anticipated a quiet afternoon, and nearly laughs. Aethelflaed narrows her eyes at him. “How was your case?” he asks. He’s sure it went well, based on her mood upon entering, so it seems a safe thing to inquire after.

“Good. Great, even. And we finished early.” She turns back to Aelfwynn. “So…pardon me…how long…”

“Oh, not long,” Aelfwynn says swiftly. “It’s sort of a new thing.” She worries her lower lip. “Not thatnew. I mean…I did want you all to meet. It’s…well…” She trails off, looking to Aldhelm for help.

Aldhelm forces a smile, shrugging apologetically. He has no desire to get caught in the middle of things any more than he already is.

There’s an awkward silence, during which Cynlaef attempts to drink from his now empty glass.

“It’s just a bit of a surprise,” Aethelflaed says, smoothing a hand over her hair. “No offence to the lovely young man, of course.”

Cynlaef appears unsure if this is a compliment or an insult. Aldhelm is again tempted to laugh.

“A nice surprise?” Aelfwynn asks.

Aldhelm lays a hand over his mouth.

“Of course nice,” Aethelflaed replies, her voice taut. “Well…I suppose it’s good we’ll get to know you, Cynlaef. I had thought we’d have Aelfwynn to ourselves for the week, but—“

“Actually, we’re going up to see Cynlaef's parents in Daresbury on Wednesday,” Aelfwynn says. “But we have until then. That’s loads of time.”

“Right.” Aethelflaed presses her lips together. “I suppose it would have been too much to expect a phone call with that change of plans either.”

Aelfwynn rolls her eyes. “It’s not the end of the world, Mum—“

“In no way did I imply it was—“

“You’re totally overreacting—“

“Aelfwynn, let’s not argue—“

“It’s really not a big deal!” Aelfwynn huffs. “Aldhelm was totally cool about it, why can’t you be?”

Aethelflaed shoots Aldhelm a look of latent irritation. Cynlaef has done his best to become one with the refrigerator. Aelfwynn has her hands on her hips, a stance Aldhelm has become quite familiar with the past few years.

“Oh!” Cynlaef suddenly springs forward. “I forgot about the gifts.” He opens the box he’d left on the countertop and pulls out a series of handmade mugs one by one, each one slightly more irregular in appearance than the last. When he’s finished, he gestures to the collection with a broad smile. “I made them in my ceramics class. Didn’t expect to like it, but it was a lot of fun, actually. Not too bad, right?”

Aethelflaed stares, her mouth slightly open.

“Isn’t that thoughtful?” Aelfwynn says, smiling up at Cynlaef. He grins down at her.

“So very thoughtful, Cynlaef,” Aethelflaed replies in clipped tones, gingerly picking up one of the vessels. “I’m not sure where we’ll store such a wonderful assortment—“

“Oh, there’s room in the cupboard, I checked,” Cynlaef says helpfully.

Aethelflaed blinks rapidly. “What foresight.”

Aelfwynn groans quietly.

Aldhelm clears his throat. “Right. I’ll make some tea, shall I?”

[kimhargreeves]

A Second Chance-Peacemaker x Reader

Summary: After the events at Corto Maltese. You're forced to team and with Peacemaker again, but this time he sees you're acting differently.

(A/N: I am so disappointed in the lack of Peacemaker fics, it's a shame he hasn't gotten much attention since TSS, so I decided to write something based on the tv show. This was supposed to be a sequel to a book I had in mind but I'm too busy to write a complete book. I'll only post this chapter here so if any are interested please read it on ao3, since there will be plenty of adult content.)

I continued to walk to the restaurant where I called called to go in. Amanda Waller ordered me to take part of this group that wants to eliminate people, so I had to agree if I wanted to continue being outside of jail, I furrowed my eyebrows confused when I saw an eagle inside a red and white striped car.

From outside I spotted a few people enjoying their dinner and I spotted Emilia, John, Leota and Clemson Murn, he's the leader of Project Butterfly who reports directly to Waller.

Early this morning they contacted me, so here I was to hear what they wanted, I continued to keep my guard up around both of the team, Emilia and John. I don't know why but I don't quite trust them entirely.

"Miss (Y/N), I see you didn't get lost on your way here." Clemson said once I stopped in front of their table.

I stared at them and saw Peacemaker turn to look at me and he nearly began to choke on his meal, "What the fuck is (Y/N) doing here?!" I tilted my head looked at him confused.

"Helping us?" John said looking at him weirdly

"Do I need to remind you, she was the one who shot my neck!" I watched him exchanging words with his team.

I crossed my arms over my chest and stepped closer. He quickly stepped back once I got closer, I smiled and waved. "This is gonna sound stupid but I have no recollection of what happened. I don't think I would've been capable of hurting you."

He looked at me confused and turned to the rest of the team. "After the events at Corto Maltese, while fighting Starro she suffered a concussion, she lost most of her memories."

"Oh thank God." Peacemaker sighed and seemed very relieved.

"That's not nice. Anyways, what exactly happened back then?" I ask wanting to know what exactly happened because there must be a reason why I shot him. "I don't feel safe-"

"Safe?!" John scoffed and laughed. "You're a strong man and your scared of her? You're sounding like Robert."

I continued to stare at all them weirdly. I noticed Peacemaker kept avoiding in talking or looking at me. The short meeting was soon over after Murn handed Peacemaker and I a few files to check. Leota finished her meal and went after Peacemaker when he left without saying another word.

I don't know what I did but I gotta try and get on his good side, so I also went back outside and saw Leota and Peacemaker joining in a small talk.

"Is that eagle yours?!" I asked when I saw the eagle making noises and flapping it's wings. I should've pieced the car and him together, of course he is weird to own a pet eagle.

"Careful with that thing." Leota warned me when I reached my hand to pet it. I backed away and stared at the eagle and smiled at Peacemaker.

"He's a lovely bird. I'm sure you must really take care of him."

Peacemaker continued looking at me weird, he forced a smile on his lips and I sensed him not being so tensed up now. "His name is Eagly..umm I guess I'll see you both tomorrow." He quickly got in his car and drove off.

Soon everyone was gone but I had another idea in mind. I quickly started following the direction where Peacemaker went off to.

*********

I remained hidden when I spotted him go inside bar, the blonde woman from my team rushed through the doors angrily, about a minute or so later Peacemaker also came out of those doors but with a woman with awful 80's haircut, a hooker.

I groaned in disapprovement at his poor choices in women. There's a couple of questions I want him to answer me, so he'll have to give it I continue to annoy him.

It was getting late but I continued to run, but was soon out of breath when I saw him exiting his car with a woman. I can only wonder what the poor bird has seen back then.

This is gonna take a while. I scrunched up my face and sat down beside the back of the building and waited until he was done.

***********

I remained hidden but was nearly falling asleep until I heard glass break. I stood up quick and peeled over to see blood everywhere and broken glass on the parking lot. I ahead up and wondered how come Peacemaker didn't die from jumping at that height.

"Hey, are you alright?!' I asked running to where he was with Eagly.

He screamed like a girl and was surprised to see me here. "How did you know I was here? Are you stalking me?!"

"Sorta..I need answers from you!" He stood up and we heard the cops far away.

"Shit! Let's get the fuck out of here." Peacemaker and I quickly got into his car and he started driving off far from where we were since the whole parking lot was destroyed and covered in blood.

I glanced to my left and saw him with a few cuts, my eyes lowered down to see him in just in underwear. He's got a big-

"So what is up with your costume?" I asked trying to make some conversation, since the silence got awkward very quick. I kept on glancing at Eagly who was between us and moving around.

"You mean cosplay?" He sarcastically said glancing to look at me while continuing to drive. I raised my eyebrows confused and he shook his head.

"Sorry..I forgot about your memory. You see, back at Corto Maltese you'd make fun of my costume, said it was a cheap cosplay for a rejected anime character."

I fought the urge to laugh at that but couldn't, I gave it and saw a smile across his lips. "You were quite annoying back then." He muttered under his breath.

"I'm sorry I said that, I really like your costume. It's unique..hey! Maybe I can show you my collection of weapons since you're a fan of them, I stole some from Batman back in the day."

"That would be great!"

We both awkwardly chuckled and sighed before we fell silent again. "So, you have a place to stay?" He asked so I gave him the directions.

"Umm not really? Yes! I sorta sleep by a bakery." I glanced over and Peacemaker gave me a hard look.

"Where exactly?" He demanded. I bit my lip and gave in, "The owner felt bad for me, so there's a small sort of room by an alley.."

I shut up and felt nervous on what he might say. "Alright.." he turned the wheel around making Eagly fall to my lap and making my face press against the glass from how forceful he turned around on the street.

"Where are we going?!"

"You think I'm gonna let you on your own? You're tiny! You'll get smashed by some random guy." I frowned but said nothing, he's right I have no one here, at least I'll have a couch to sleep on.

************

I sighed and sat down comfortably on the passenger seat as he continued to drive after a couple of minutes. "Look, I'm not sure what exactly happened or why I shot you, it must've been a mistake and for that I am really sorry." Peacemaker remained quiet and seemed soft of upset.

"You can be a real bitch though, a bit annoying and violent..but attractive." I smiled and felt heat rushing to my face.

His dark eyes looked at me surprised so he stopped walking and smirked a bit. "You find me attractive?"

I laugh and saw his eyes change to a bit disappointed, I shook my head so he wouldn't think I was making fun of him, "I mean w-who doesn't?" I stuttered and felt my entire face burning up. Thank God it was dark out here.

"And you can call me Christopher, it sounds weird hearing Peacemaker come from you."

"Alright, Christopher.." I stared down at my lap and felt my heart beta racing faster.

"I'll take the couch and you'll take the bed." Chris told me.

He turned the engine off and turned to look at me. "I still don't get why you had to choose That woman." I pointed out at the woman he had just slept with.

He rolls his eyes and tried hiding his crotch since he was still kinda exposed. "I was horny! I haven't had sex in years!"

"Well neither have I!..I guess? Anyways, you don't see me getting horny wanting to fuck the first guy I meet." I sure do hope he doesn't get angry at what I said.

"Just follow me alright?" He shut the door so I quickly got out of the car and did the same.

I followed him out to where he lives and saw him looking for the keys, I heard him cursed since he couldn't find it. "Still it's rude to say what you want from a woman..I would've done it for free." I joke and followed him at the back part of his house.

Christopher tensed up and stopped searching the keys to look at me. "What?"

I realized what I had just said and blushed even harder, "I-I mean if I knew you better!"

Christopher smirked to himself, "I didn't pay her anyways." I squealed when he came to me and lifted me up off the ground and helped me get over the window making sure I wouldn't get cut because of the shattered glass.

I made it inside and heard Chris enter as well, he placed a blanket on the open shattered window, "This way no one will look at you sleep."

I slowly began to walk and look around, he's a nerd! I love it. I smiled at all the nostalgic things he has from back when it was the 80's or 90's. "No way, you have a record player! I always begged my parents for one."

Gently I touched the record player and saw all the awesome albums he has, I did notice he stole some from that woman. I placed a Kiss album and hummed to the familiar tune.

"You have great tastes when it comes to music." I complimented. I looked back at him and saw him quickly look away and saw him leaving the room. I assume he left to the bathroom. His pet Eagly followed him.

I blushed when I realized Christopher staring at my suit..or should I say ass. He's a fun guy to hang around when he's not being arrogant or mean. I do hope to learn more about him since I don't remember much of him.

Quietly I stepped into the bathroom as saw him talking care of his own wounds. "Hey, can you tell me how I was back then?" He looked at me through the glasses reflection.

He turned to look down at me, he was back to being serious. "Y-You...We were friends, we did everything together."

"Even back in prison?" I asked confused. He but his lip and nodded.

"Yeah..You just listened to the wrong people and shot me. But, that's in the last now." He forced a smile on his lips and I felt his hand land on my cheek.

I have no recollection of the past but I trust him. I smiled and leaned into his touch, he's the first person who's treated me nice and has cared for me since I got out of the hospital.

"I trust you, Chris."

Christopher moved his hand away and went back to his room. " Come on, it's getting late, here I'll hand you a few blankets."

I quickly followed him in and I truly began to feel comfortable around him. "Make yourself at home, (Y/N)." Christopher said as soon as I made it back into his room. I felt butterflies in my stomach when he said my name.

I stepped closer to him and I wrapped my arms around him and felt him tense up. "Please stay here, this is your home and I don't want to invader your space."

Chris patted my back, "I'll see what I can do."

[madslorian]

madslorian weekly fic recommendations!

Some of these characters I've read so much that they will be moved off of the Misc. Characters Masterlist and onto their own! I love that this library is growing :) All of these fics will be uploaded onto my (masterlist) either after posting or tomorrow.

authors mentioned this week are:

@and-i-swear-we-are-infinte

@absurdthirst

@songsformonkeys

@opheliaelysia

@bison-writes

@slater-baby

@mylifeisactuallyamess

@starlightmornings

@ohpedromypedro

⊱{Din Djarin}⊰

GUILT (SERIES) BY AND-I-SWEAR-WE-ARE-INFINTE

Ahhh! This was my first submission/recommendation by somebody! I got a little overwhelmed by schoolwork so I'm currently on chapter 2 of 5 but I'm really enjoying it!!! Go give it a read and let Carli know what you think of it!

There are 5 chapters so far (all linked above on a masterlist) and the background is if Moff Gideon captured somebody else for his experiments after Din saved Grogu, but what if Din went back for them too? This idea intrigues me a lot plus I looove force-sensitive reader arcs! The first chapter set up a really good story so I will definitely be catching up soon

⊱{Dave York}⊰

*STORMY SECRETS (PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3) (MINI SERIES) BY ABSURDTHIRST

NSFW! All three parts of this perfectly capture the greatest suburban murder daddy ever, Dave York. Reader is the York family's nanny (shocker, another Dave x nanny!reader story I read...) and grows closer to Dave, as Dave shows what lengths he will go to for what's his. And also poor Carol gets screwed over again... oops.

*SEVEN YEARS BY SONGSFORMONKEYS

NSFW! After escaping the murder business, reader is hiding out in a cabin in the woods for years before seeing Dave's face in the market. After showing up at the cabin and getting his ass beat, Dave reconciles with the reader and admits he wants out of the business too

⊱{Ezra}⊰

*THE EXACT COLOUR BY OPHELIAELYSIA

NSFW! This story felt so poetic and so beautiful to read. First off, artist!Ezra is magnifique, but using the metaphor of your body as a canvas and Ezra painting it felt so sensual and intimate, it didn't feel like smutty/sexual. I yearn to be touched and loved like this by my partner and I think this emphasized how lonely I am lol

ZENITH BY OPHELIAELYSIA

Another one that made me feel incredibly lonely, sigh. BUT the yearning is real guys. This little ficlet makes me feel like Ezra's kisses are filled with so much emotion and probably hold the electricity of the entire galaxy. Something about each and every one of them feels comforting and safe, and these lines made me melt: “If I told you the words, would you keep them safe for me?” “Of course. I’d keep anything safe for you”

*BENEATH THE MOON'S GAZE BY OPHELIAELYSIA

NSFW! Okay, this jumps like RIGHT into smut, but the way that this entire fic is written feels so intimate to me. Like it's intense, pushing limits, and just so heavy with sensuality. But everything about sex with Ezra seems just as poetic as his words are and this nails it

CONNECTING THE DOT BY BISON-WRITES

Pure fricken fluff, that's all. After losing his arm and dealing with recovery in the med bay, Ezra meets Dot, a beautiful gal who is mute. The kindness and softness she extends to him makes his heart just melt, and they soon become business partners

⊱{Pero Tovar}⊰

PREGNANCY HEADCANONS BY SLATER-BABY

Suggested NSFW, so mind the tags at the beginning. As somebody who heavily enjoys reading pregnancy headcanons simply because I adore children... this hit the sweet spot. This isn't even just like a headcanon it's a full-on backstory on how reader and Pero met and it's super adorable. I love the idea of big gruff man holding a tiny baby and just absolutely melting

⊱{Poe Dameron}⊰

HE'S HOME (AO3) (MINI-SERIES) BY MYLIFEISACTUALLYAMESS

Poe returns home after being captured on Jakku and reader can tell something is not right with him. The third chapter broke something inside of me I think...

KNOWING BY MYLIFEISACTUALLYAMESS

Poe comes to comfort reader after an outburst with Leia, and tells the truth about how he actually suffers behind his cocky attitude and pretty boy smile

HE USED TO BE MINE BY MYLIFEISACTUALLYAMESS

True story, this fic shoved me into an alleyway and beat me and my emotions up. ANYWAYS! I should be sorry for suggesting this sad fic, but I'm not because I believe a reader should have at least one fic that makes them feel like a bus destroyed any happiness they had for that day.

I already reposted this with my honest review of how much it made me cry so I'll keep this short. Reader and Poe are getting a divorce after Poe cheats, but every single second of this story had me on the edge of my seat wondering if they would work things out. I'm still struggling to put my emotions into words

⊱{Marcus Moreno}⊰

*ROOM REQUIRED BY STARLIGHTMORNINGS

NSFW! I had a friend send this one to me... and let me tell you, she knows my taste. Reader works in IT for the Heroics, Marcus comes down to get a replacement part, they end up having a quickie in a locked closet. Typical smut, hehe

THERE'S NOTHING SEXY ABOUT ANATOMY BY BISON-WRITES

Suggested NSFW, but no smut in this one! The line explaining the reader "felt like a baboon in heat" made me CRY with laughter and the purple dildo!! But I like character x nanny!reader fics, and it's becoming a bad habit. Anyways! Hopefully, there will be a part 2!

⊱{Max Phillips}⊰

CHRISTMAS WITH MAX BY OHPEDROMYPEDRO

Oh my god, this was so adorable! Christmas obsessed reader really hits home and the idea that both you and Max have such amazing gifts for one another is super adorable. I would quite literally die for Max, because y'know... eternal life with him and his bad old vampire self

[uas-fics]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Title: How to Train A Champion and Keep Your Reputation Intact

Summary: Piers doesn’t want to coach Leon, but the last thing Piers needs is for everyone to know a cool punk like him used to perform in Pokemon Contests! If it means keeping his reputation intact, he’ll begrudgingly teach this ray of sunlight what he knows.

Fandom: Pokemon Sword and Shield

Ships: LeonxPiers | dnnz

Rating: T

Contest Warnings: N/A

Chapter 1: The Early Morning Visitor

----

Of the people Piers expected to be sitting across his kitchen table at eight in the morning, the former champion was not one of them. Leon wasn't even in the top ten, yet here he was, twiddling his thumbs behind a cup of tea with a peppy expression on his face.

Piers was barely a human being this early, yet Leon seemed to have the same energy as a particularly bushy-tailed skwovet.

"You have a nice kitchen," Leon commented, more to fill the silence than an actual compliment.

Piers glanced at the pile of take-out containers on the counter then the singular shoe that hadn't made it to his room with its partner the night before. His kitchen was nothing spectacular, and it didn't need to be. His home was a place to crash or bring a date, not some fancy townhouse. With only he and Marnie there, why should he bother fancying the place up?

"What do you want, Leon?" Piers took a sip of his tea.

Leon wrapped his fingers around his cup but didn't move to drink. If Leon would have preferred coffee, he could have said something before Piers poured him a cup. It'd be a waste to pour it down the drain.

"Well, it's a little silly, but I could use your help with something," Leon explained.

Piers narrowed his eyes.

Leon was the chairman of the Pokemon League. Piers gave his gym over to Marnie after the last Champion tournament. What could he want Piers to help with at this point? The only connection he had with the League was Marnie.

Unless...

"I swear if you're goin' to pull the same shit as Rose did and try to get me to make Marnie move the gym—"

"No, no, nothing like that!" Leon raised his hands, palms facing out. "It has nothing at all to do with Spikemuth or the gym."

"Then what does it have to do with?" Piers leaned back and crossed his arms.

"Uh, well, alright," Leon didn't meet his eyes, "it's about a rumor."

Piers' frown deepened. He always had rumors about him floating about. It came with his persona.

"I heard Piers beat a man to a pulp because he spilled his drink on him." or "I heard Piers took three girls back to his home and made them leave before the sun was even up." or he was a dealer of rare hallucinogenic flowers or that he used his pokemon to break into Rose's office and peed in a potted plant behind his desk.

There was rarely any truth to the rumors. He didn't care to squash them. He was a dark-type trainer, having everyone thinking he was a bigger badass than he already was could not hurt his reputation.

"C'mon, mate, aren't you a little old to be listenin' to rumors?" Piers cocked an eyebrow.

"It's not a bad rumor.”

"What's the rumor then?"

"Ah, well, I heard," He paused to clear his throat, "that you, ah, that you competed in pokemon contests when you were younger—and that you won."

Piers barely kept his face deadpan.

Where had Leon heard that? Those contests happened just before posting on the internet boomed, so it wasn't like the contests were live-streamed and archived. The only video that he knew existed of his contest days hid in a box in the back of a closet. Marnie captured it when she could barely see over the railings at the stadiums. Even then, the video quality was terrible and Marnie kept moving the camera around. He looked like a black and white blob in them.

He forced himself to calm down. He could easily deny this rumor. No one would believe he, Piers, former Spikemuth gym leader, head of Team Yell, the fierce trainer of powerful dark-types, would ever compete in a pokemon contest.

"Where did you hear that?" Piers reached for his tea just to have something in his hands.

What credibility did this rumor spreader have? Probably none. Denying this would be easy.

"Oh, I heard your sister mention it."

Piers nearly dropped his cup.

Shit.

He could not deny this, not without putting Marnie's credibility on the line. She was still a new gym leader. The last thing she needed was the chairman thinking she was a gossip.

He hissed out a breath. "Oh, did she?"

"Yeah, she was talking to Opal while Bede filled out some papers," Leon told him. "She said she remembered you used to be good at pokemon contests. That's why I'm here."

"So what?" Piers spat. "It isn't illegal, now is it?"

Why couldn't this have been about Malamar scaring passers-by on Route 7 when he was bored? Why could this have been about the rave Piers helped throw in an abandoned mine last month? Why could it have been about pissing in the potted plant? Why couldn't this have been about anything else?!

Leon frowned. "Of course not—"

"Then why are you askin' me about it?"

"Because I wanted your help to win one."

Piers' mouth gaped. Did he hear that right? Leon, the former champion, one of the strongest pokemon trainers in all of Galar, wanted to enter a pokemon contest.

He stuck a finger in his ear and twisted it.

"Sorry, say that again. I must have somethin' in my ear. I didn't just hear you ask for help in a pokemon contest."

"That is what I asked." Leon beamed. "There is one in Ballonlea in two weeks and I want to enter, but I don't know the first thing about them. If you know, you could help me—if you want to, that is."

"Why?" Piers held back from pinching himself. How was this not a dream? Maybe he was messing with hallucinogenic flowers after all.

Reaching into his pocket, Leon took out a folded piece of lavender paper. He laid it flat on the table, smoothing it with the side of his hand, before pushing it over. The faint scent of roses wafted from it.

"All are invited to the first Bellonlea Pokemon Contest!" It read in a flowing, elegant font. "Coordinators of all ages and skill levels are invited to the Bellonlea Stadium to participate in a Pokemon Contest. Please contact the Bellonlean Ladies' Society for more details and how to enter."

"Was this ‘ppose to explain somethin'?" Piers pushed the flyer back. "Why do you want to win a contest?"

"That prize, of course!" Leon took his phone from his pocket. He scrolled a moment then turned the screen to Piers.

A picture of a red and white hat with a black logo stared back. It honestly looked like something an overly-excited ten-year-old would win from a cereal box drawing.

"It's a hat." Piers peered over the top of the phone to look at the hat Leon already had on.

"It's not just a hat. It's a limited edition!" Leon pulled his phone back. "I had one when I was a little kid, but I lost it to an angry corvisquire. The first place in the beginner contest wins it."

"And you can't just, you know, buy one for yourself?" He rolled his hand. "I know you have sponsorships out your ass." Piers looked down pointedly at his Spikemuth Chamber of Commerce shirt for emphasis.

Leon shrugged. "What fun is that?"

Piers downed half his drink in one go. The burn on his throat reassured him he wasn't dreaming.

"Piers?" Leon leaned over the table, his face alight with a smile. "Can't I talk you into helping me out? Please? I promise to owe you one after this."

Piers groaned. What choice did he have? He couldn't deny it without hurting Marnie's reputation. Their reputation used to be the only valuable he and Marnie had to their names, besides each other. Lying to Leon to save his own skin was not an option.

"Yeah, yeah, alright." Piers raised his hands in defeat. "Fine. I'll do it, but," he held a finger up in Leon's face, "you have to swear on your life that you won't tell a soul about it. I don't need anyone thinkin’ I ever put any of my pokemon in a frilly suit or made them dance around like pretty ballerinas or some shit."

Leon nearly jumped across the table. He put his hands on Piers' shoulders and squeezed a little too hard.

"Thanks a million for this!" He hopped up. "Where should we train? I think I understand the rules, but maybe we should go over the rules first? Or outfit—"

"Tomorrow." Piers cut him off. "We'll start tomorrow."

Leon's face fell like a growlithe that just had his bone taken from him. Piers held his sad gaze. Marnie's morpoko did the same pout when she wanted something, and Piers knew better than to give in.

If Leon still wanted to learn how to be a coordinator, he had to prove himself first. A day would be enough time for Piers to think up obstacles to make Leon forget about the silly notion. Contests, despite the stereotype, were hard work. While beginner contests weren't all that complicated, Piers didn't mind sprinkling in some of the more difficult to grasp bits from the higher tiers. With any luck that would confuse Leon right out of the idea and out of Piers' life.

Leon took a breath. He pulled his hands from Piers and squared his shoulders.

"I'll meet you back here at eight sharp tomorrow and then we can get started."

"No. You'll meet me outside Spikemuth at noon."

"Oh, well, alright. It'll be a champ—" Leon caught himself from using his old catchphrase. "It'll be a fun time."

"That's one way to think of it," Piers muttered, feeling less and less enthused at the arrangement by the second.

----

True to his word, Leon stood outside the front gate of Spikemuth at noon on the dot. He perked up when he saw Piers and jumped in front of him.

"Good afternoon, Teacher Piers."

He winked.

Piers wrinkled his nose.

"Call me that again, and I'm callin' this off."

Leon laughed nervously. "Sorry." He whistled. "Sooooo, what should I learn first? How to use music? Or pose? I'm already pretty good at that."

"How about the rules?"

Piers waved him to follow down the road towards the Spikemuth Tunnel. People were less likely to eavesdrop on them if they walked.

"Alright, rules. I know there are two rounds, and each trainer uses only one pokemon."

"Coordinator," Piers corrected sharply.

He promised to teach, but he didn't promise to be entirely pleasant while doing it.

"Yeah. There are two rounds. The first round is the Performance Stage. You show off your pokemon's appeal with a choreographed set of moves. The judges will assign points based on how well the performance fits into particular categories."

Piers began to ramble on about the different move categories as if the contest in Bellonlea would be so complicated. Beginner contests weren't judged by the five categories individually like higher-ranked contests.

Back when Galar still had a contest circuit, the people in beginner contests were kids with weak pokemon that might only know two or three moves. A performance with a cool move first and a cute move next wouldn't be judged as harshly as the first rank contest would.

However, Leon didn't need to know that. If he thought that the category system was complicated and—in Piers' humble opinion—limited and stupid, maybe he would back out.

"And that's all there is to the appeals rules." Piers looked at Leon, expecting him to be confused and dejected at the long-winded explanation, but instead found him holding onto every word.

"Well, that doesn't seem too hard." He nodded. "It's just putting on a show in a time limit with your partner. Easy."

"We'll see how easy you think it is when you're doing it." Piers stood under a shade tree. "The next round is the harder one. It's the battle round."

"Battle? I thought contests were for show, not for fighting."

Piers cackled at the genuine confusion on Leon's face. Of course, he would think that. That silly stereotype about contests never seemed to die, did it? Coordinators didn't just train their pokemon to teach them new moves. Their partner had to be strong to last the battles against one another. Even though Piers was a gym leader when he did contests, he still struggled against the stronger opponents.

He idly grabbed a lower branch and bent it down. If he didn’t slouch, Piers was tall enough that he could just about reach into the pokemon nest a few branches up with relative ease.

"You would think that, wouldn't you?" He opened his hand.

The branch whipped up and hit the branch the nest was on. The skwovet in the nest jumped with a squeak. Its sudden movement knocked a sitrus berry over the side.

"In the second round, two coordinators battle to remove points from the opponent, usin' moves that fall into the contest categories." He snatched the sitrus berry out of the air.

The skwovet glared at Piers. Piers smirked at it before wiping the berry on his shirt. The pokemon chattered and hurried higher into the tree.

Leon frowned at Piers' interaction with the skwovet. Piers met his gaze, daring him to comment on it.

Leon cleared his throat. "That wasn't necessary."

"It was an accident."

Leon pursed his lips in doubt but didn't argue. Instead, he said, "So it's a battle, but it's an entertaining battle. I can do that."

Around a bite of berry, Piers shrugged, "It's a five-minute battle, but the point of the battle isn't to knock out your opponent with the first move. No one needs to faint. It's to show that your pokemon is better than theirs."

Piers half-expected Leon to go on about how no pokemon was better than another, instead, Leon stroked his chin in thought. Maybe Leon realized that a contest wouldn't be as fun as he thought and wanted to give up on the idea.

The branches above shook and the skwovet chattered. A leppa berry slammed into the ground near Piers' boot. The skwovet, arm loaded with unripe leppa berries, held up another. It threw it. Piers took a step to the side.

"Nice try," he mocked. The skwovet's fur bristled. It tossed down the rest of its armful and missed every time. With a huff, it stomped back towards its nest to rustle through its hoard.

"Alright. I think I can handle this," Leon said, moving into Piers' personal space and lifting his arm over Piers' head, "with your help."

Grinning, he stepped back then opened his fist to present an oran berry. The skwovet cried out in frustration. Piers rubbed the top of his head. He glanced up at the wild pokemon once more before walking away from the tree, with Leon in tow. It was best not to test his luck anymore. The skwovet might use a move on him and the last thing he wanted was to spend the night picking slobbery bullet seeds out of his hair.

The skwovet angrily chattered but seemed to give up. It hurried down the tree to gather its berries. Leon crouched to roll the oran berry over. The skwovet eyed him but snatched the berry up to shove into its cheeks anyway.

Piers raised an eyebrow. Maybe this training wouldn't be as bad as he thought.

----

The training area outside Spikemuth wasn't much, just a patch of barren earth that trainers from Spikemuth would come to battle when they didn't feel like using the gym. Currently, the only souls there were Piers and Leon. Since Marnie took over as gym leader, the younger trainers of the city moved their training back to the gym.

"They didn't want to come when you were the gym leader. They think you're scary," Marnie had explained. "Dunno why though. You're about as scary as a teddisuara."

Piers crossed his arms. "Do you know which pokemon you're goin' use? These are Hoenn rules, so you can only use one."

Leon tapped the pokeballs at his belt. "I'm not sure. I didn't think I could go in with Charizard, so I didn't bring him with me."

"Why not Charizard?"

"Everyone knows what my Charizard looks like," Leon explained. "And I don't think I can pretend not to be me if I use him."

Piers' brows furrowed. What in the world was he talking about?

Upon seeing Piers' expression, Leon chuckled to himself.

"I guess I forgot to tell you." He put his hands on his hips and set his feet a shoulder-width apart. "I'm going to do this contest in disguise."

The hope Piers just acquired vanished.

"You're what?"

"I'm going in disguise," He repeated. "I was the champion, and now I'm chairman. That would give me an unfair advantage, don't you think?"

Piers pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course, Leon would want to win on a level playing field. The Bellonean Ladies' Society would probably just give him the stupid hat if he promised to simply show up and bring more attention to the event. If he did that, Piers could have stayed at home and lazed about, but, noooo, Leon had to win his silly hat fair and square.

"How do you plan to do that?"

"Well, I hoped you could help me with that, too." Leon pointed to his face. "I've seen your stage makeup, and you're talented. I bet you could make me look like a different person."

Piers hated that he couldn't argue with that. Not long after he decided to follow his dream of being a punk star, one of the gym trainers offered to teach him the basics of cosmetics. Once he had the basics down, it only took a year of using his pokemon, friends, and Marnie as test subjects for him to perfect his art.

He could easily make Leon's face look different enough: soften his cheekbones, maybe a few freckles, pull his bangs back, color contacts, and glasses...Leon would look good in glasses, even if it meant hiding his natural eye color...

Piers shook his head. He hadn't agreed to anything but training for the contest. He was not giving Leon a makeover like they were preteens at a slumber party.

Leon pursed his lips. "It would be pointless if I won because of who I am. That wouldn't be fair to the other train—coordinators."

"No. Figure that out yourself."

Leon sighed, his shoulders slumped. He muttered under his breath, something Piers couldn't make out. Finally, he straightened and shrugged.

"You know, I have to approve the budgets for each gym provided by the league," he lifted one finger and wagged it as he continued, "and wouldn't it be nice if Spikemuth got a little extra in their budget so their new gym leader could fix up her gym stadium? I know the Spikemuth Chamber of Commerce can't always give too much to the gym, and it needs a few repairs."

Piers' mouth fell a gape. Did Leon just try to bribe him through his sister? He had to admit, he was impressed. It wasn't the best bribery offer he'd ever been given, but considering whom the offer came from and what Marnie would get in return, he decided to give in.

"Make sure the gym gets enough to replace the crumplin’ stadium walls, and I'll do it." Piers stuck out his hand.

Leon took the offered hand in his and shook once. "I knew you'd have a change of heart."

Piers yanked his hand back. "Change of heart my ass. Just send out your pokemon."

With a nod, Leon let out each of his pokemon in turn: Aegislash, Haxorus, Dragapult, Mr. Rime, Seismatoad, then Rhyperior. True to his word, he hadn't brought his ace pokemon with him. Like a well-oiled machine, they quickly lined up and turned their full attention to their trainer.

Pride rolled off Leon as he gazed at his team. Up until last year, this team was undefeated. Leon kept them at their best and even Piers could call that admirable.

"Alright everyone, listen here." Leon clapped his hands as if any of them didn't have their eyes on him. "Remember how I said we were going to enter a contest? Well, only one of you can enter it with me."

Leon's Mr. Rime leaned on his cane and Aegislash shifted his shield, though the other pokemon didn't react one way or another to the news.

"Contests aren't like normal battling. They're a performance." Leon gestured to Piers. "Piers is going to help pick the best one of you for the contest."

Piers snorted. "Oh, didn't I tell you? I'm not assessin' your team."

Leon's hand dropped to his side. He tilted his head.

"You're not?"

"No."

Piers took out the only pokeball he had on him. With a flick of the wrist, he released his own contest partner. The stench of rotten eggs filled the air. Everyone but Piers jerked back to cover their noses.

Skuntank shook himself out. He stretched his front paws forward then pulled the rest of his body up like a cat in a sunbeam. Piers crouched down and patted his partner between the ears.

"Skuntank here won nearly every contest he entered," Piers explained. "He knows more about them than even I do, I'd say. Even keeps track of the Sinnoh contests online. If anyone can give this team a proper assessment, it'll be him."

Skuntank lifted his head proudly then stomped forward. He stalked up, down, and around the line, eyeing each pokemon. He stopped in front of Haxorus, narrowed his eyes, and rumbled. Haxorus shuffled nervously. She looked to her team members then back at Skuntank. Siesmatoad shrugged, and Dragapult looked away.

Satisfied, Skuntank trotted back to Piers. He took a breath and stated something to the pokemon, loud and clear.

The other pokemon were taken aback. They muttered amongst themselves, all except Mr. Rime and Aegislash. With his chest puffed out, Mr. Rime strode forward. A moment later, Aegislash floated next to him. The rest of the team remained still.

"That's the two to choose from," Piers said. To the other members of Leon's team, he continued, "You can go over there. Take a rest why don't you?" He jabbed his thumb towards the grass at the side of the training area.

Without missing a beat, Dragapult floated away, soon followed by Siesmatoad, Haxorus, and Rhyperior.

Leon gasped. "That's amazing. How does Skuntank know?"

It wasn't as if Skuntank could smell contest talent on Mr. Rime and Aegislash. It just so happened that when Skuntank asked, Mr. Rime and Aegislash wanted to enter a contest. The rest weren't interested.

Ignoring Leon's question, Piers asked, "How do you want to decide between these two."

Leon blinked. "Isn't that what Skuntank is here for?"

With a thump, Skuntank flopped to the ground, paws under his chin, and shut his eyes.

"He's filled his quota." Piers said. "This is your job, Mr. Chairman."

Leon stroked his chin. He crouched down between his pokemon. Mr. Rime tapped his feet and spun his cane. Leon lifted his eyebrows at the impromptu performance. Not to be outdone, Aegislash held his shield up and spun it on the end of his arm. He tossed the shield then expertly caught it.

Mr. Rime danced backward. He spun in a circle, holding his cane up to the sky. From the tip of the cane, snow flurried around him, glittering like tiny diamonds.

Aegislash, upon seeing Leon's dazzled expression at Mr. Rime's performance, clanged his shield and blade together. With his trainer's attention back on him, Aegislash whipped his arm out. The shield rolled out on its side into the middle of the battle area. In the blink of an eye, Aegislash descended into his shadow. Using shadow sleek, he hurried in front of the shield.

Aegislash burst from the ground, large and dark. He whipped the shield up. the sun glinted off the polished metal. Contrasted against Aegislash's dark form, the shining shield appeared like a bright star in the night sky.

Leon's mouth fell a gape. "Wow, I didn't know you could do that, Aegislash."

Aegislash returned to his normal appearance and smugly shurgged. Mr. Rime stomped his foot in frustration. He put his fingers to his mouth and whistled for Leon to look at him. Once again, his cane spun. Around him, aurous panes of light screen appeared then frosted over. Mr. Rime stopped and raised his arms. The light screen panes shot up and burst like fireworks.

Aegislash bristled. His grip on his shield tightened and his single eye narrowed. Mr. Rime sneered at him as Leon carefully picked up the frozen light screen fragments to examine.

Piers clapped his hands once. "Don't you lot make this a battle." To Leon, he ordered, "You need to pick one."

Leon stood. "But they're both really talented."

From behind them, Skuntank snorted. Aegislash and Mr. Rime turned their glares from each other to the dark-type.

Piers agreed with Leon, even if his pokemon didn't, but leaving those two to keep one-upping each other wouldn't end well. Leon had to pick a partner for the contest, even if it would hurt someone's feelings.

Leon thought on his choice then slumped forward with a sigh. He rummaged in his pocket and held up a coin.

"I can't decide," he admitted. "Heads for Mr. Rime and tails for Aegislash."

He flicked the coin into the air. Like the oran berry before, he caught it from the air. With a hard smack that made the top of Pier's hand hurt, Leon slapped it on the top of his hand. Aegislash and Mr. Rime stood tense as Leon slowly lifted his hand.

"Heads."

Mr. Rime jumped up with joy. Aegislash dropped his shield to the ground with a thud. Leon reached out to comfort him, but Aegislash waved him away. Dragging his shield through the dirt, he trudged towards the other pokemon.

Skuntank lumbered back to his feet. He intercepted Aegislash. Skuntank rumbled at Aegislash. He silently mulled over what Skuntank said then lifted his shield from the ground.

In a voice like clashing metal, Aegislash yelled at Mr. Rime. Mr. Rime stumbled in his tap dancing, looking shocked at what his teammate said. Skuntank cackled, slapping the ground with his paw. With his mood improved considerably, Aegislash led Skuntank away to join the other pokemon.

----

Mr. Rime was a showman. Even with the occasional heckle from Skuntank, he and Leon managed to cobble together the start of an alright appeal round. After Piers finally admitted that the move categories meant shit all for the beginner contests, Leon decided to make use of what Mr. Rime already presented: sparkling snow and unique uses of psychic power.

Piers, for his part, offered critique when he saw a move that might be too showy or too dull, but mostly left Leon to his own devices. After all, Leon was the one entering, not him.

A thunderbolt tore through an icy column, shattering it. A glow of psychic power protected some of the ice from the heat. When the mist cleared, what remained was the carving of the Champion's logo.

Leon pumped his fist. "There we go!"

Skuntank muttered something to Aegislash, who replied in agreement. Though he hadn't been as loud in his criticism as Skuntank, Aegislash made snide remarks for every misstep.

Piers had more fun watching Skuntank and Aegislash than Leon and Mr. Rime, honestly.

As the heat both from the thunderbolts and the day wore on, Piers was thankful he choose to sit under the shade instead of directly interact with Leon.

Though on the field, he would have had a better view.

Every time Leon raised his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow, Piers turned his attention towards him. Rehain once mentioned Leon weight trained and exercised to stay as fit as his team, and Piers could tell. He stared at the well-formed muscles usually hidden under Leon’s shirt several times before finally being caught.

“Is something wrong? Is this too much?” Leon gestured to Mr. Rime’s newest ice sculpture.

Piers made up a suggestion to save himself the embarrassment.

“It’s fine, but you’re rushin’. Slow down, if you know how to do that,” Piers replied, turning his head to hide his pink cheeks against his shoulder.

“Oh, alright.” Leon nodded. “Mr. Rime, take a few more seconds before calling down the thunderbolt!”

Stuntank chuckled and Piers sent him a glare.

“Shut up,” he hissed, earning another laugh from Stuntank.

Something pulled at Piers' sleeve. One of Dragapult's dreepy chewed on his jacket. When Piers acknowledged it, it flew in a circle trying to get him to play with it. It went to nip at the end of one of his ponytails.

Dragapult sighed and wrapped his tail around the dreepy to pull it back. He gave Piers an apologetic look.

The rest of Leon's team wasn't doing much better. They were bored out of their minds.

Siesmatoad ripped a clump of grass from the ground and tossed it in her mouth. Rhyperior and Haxorus took turns stabbing leaves through their horns or tusks, seeing who could make the biggest hole without tearing the leaf in half.

Before Leon and Mr. Rime could start again, Piers called, "That's enough for today."

He stood and put his hands on his lower back to stretch. Skuntank grumbled but got to his paws.

"Well, if you say so." Leon came over to the crowd of pokemon with Mr. Rime. "Everyone ready?"

Seismatoad spat out the grass clump, nearly hitting Rhyperior's foot. Dragapult cooed and the rest of his dreepy hoard hurried out of the tall grass. Aegislash refused to look at Mr. Rime, instead of staying close to Stuntank. Haxorus bent forward and pressed the button on her pokeball with her mouth scythe, returning herself.

When Leon took out Aegislash's ball, Piers put a hand on his wrist.

"Before you return him, can I ask you a favor?"

Leon raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Aegislash and Skuntank seem to be havin' fun together. Do you think Aegislash could come back with me for tonight?" Piers asked. Skuntank stamped a foot and wheezed in approval.

Leon lowered Aegislash's pokeball. He bent down so he looked Aegislash in his singular eye.

"Do you want to have a slumber party with Skuntank at Spikemuth?" He spoke like a parent to a child. Mr. Rime snickered. Stuntank kicked sand at him with a short growl.

Piers pulled the bill of Leon's hat down over his eyes.

"Aegislash is probably older than both of us combined," he reminded. "Don't call it a slumber party."

Leon pushed his hat up and wrinkled his brow. Realization crossed his face.

"Ah." He asked Aegislash, "Do you want to have a date with Skuntank at Spikemuth?"

Piers went to pull Leon's hat clean off, but Aegislash took hold of the bill and pulled until it completely covered Leon's face with the bill touching his chin. He rolled his eye and shrugged towards Skuntank. Skuntank snickered and shook his head back in reply.

Leon laughed, taking the hat into his lap. "I'm joking. I'm joking. Sorry." He put a hand on Aegislash's shoulder. "Really, if you want to hang out with Skuntank for the night, you can." He smiled sincerely.

Aegislash paused, eyed his trainer, then seemed to sigh. He took the hat from Leon's hands and set it on his head. He patted his head, like a parent pacifying a child. Aegislash floated by him towards Skuntank.

-----

“Listen up.”

Piers whistled to the crowd of dark-type pokemon around the Spikemuth stadium. All heads turned towards him and the two pokemon by his side.

“This is Aegislash. He’s part of Chairman Leon’s team.” Piers nodded to Aegislash. “He’s visitin' for the night, so don’t be an asshole.”

He sent a pointed look at Malamar, who crossed his tentacles. Malamar only recently got out of trouble for scaring people around Spikemuth. Neither he nor Marnie needed Aegislash going back to Leon traumatized from Malamar's pranks.

The gym pokemon muttered and mumbled to themselves, eyeing Aegislash suspiciously.

Going well so far.

No one jumped to attack or called out an obscenity towards the new pokemon. Already it was going better when Raihan brought his pokemon over to play while he and Piers visited. Not one sucker punch to the back.

Marnie’s Grimsnarl picked up the toy ball and held it protectively. Both scrafty scooted to shield their tower of cards. Obstagoon took his nose out of a bag of crisps for a moment before shoving it right back in. Liepard yawned, purposely exposing her fangs, before laying her head on Toxicroak’s lap. Toxitricity peeked an eye open from his corner then continued strumming his chest. Morpeko jumped off the stage and scurried over to Aegislash and Skuntank.

She greeted them. Skuntank wheezed to her as Aegislash lifted his shield in a hello. Morpeko spoke with Aegislash a moment before turning to the rest of the pokemon. She took a deep breath and shouted to them her approval.

Malamar snorted but uncrossed his tentacles. Grimsnarl slowly took the ball back out. Neither scrafty moved from their hard work. Toxitricity waved idly. Liepard and Toxicroak and Obstagoon didn’t acknowledge the announcement, the former two napping and the latter still stuffing his maw.

Skuntank jerked his head towards Toxitricity's corner of the gym. Aegislash and Morpeko followed after. Grimsnarl and Malamar watched them closely.

Marnie took a bite of her hamburger. Around it, she asked, “Is that really Leon’s aegislash?”

Piers open the bag from Bob’s Your Uncle to dig out his order. “He is. He and Leon’s Mr. Rime got into a fight, and Aegislash wanted to be away.”

“So Leon asked you?” She swallowed.

Piers thought on his feet. “Dark and ghost types are pretty close when you get down to it. Born of night and the deepness of the soul and all that.”

“Shouldn’t he have asked Allister?”

Piers took a bite of his burger and slowly chewed. He swallowed and said, “Kid must have been busy. He’s still got school to go— just like you.” Piers smirked, leaning over. “And how’s that school work going, little sis?”

Marnie blushed. She huffed, snatched the bag from Piers, then marched to the stage at the other end of the stadium.

Even being a gym leader, Marnie still had to go to school like every other kid her age. Since she was still learning to juggle gym leader duties and school, Marnie fell behind in her classes and had to take extra lessons.

Piers had been the same when he took over the gym, but he usually skipped after-school lessons. She complained about the lessons often, and Piers offered an understanding ear.

He wasn’t above using this information against her, though.

With long strides, he followed his sister. He overtook her quickly. Holding his burger between his teeth, Piers hopped onto the stage and sat, his toes brushing the ground. Marnie walked up the steps to sit near him. She purposefully set the bag with their food on the side farthest away from Piers. He leaned across her to fish his chips out of the bag.

They sat in companionable silence, watching the pokemon as they ate their fast food.

When Marnie’s scrafty turned to open another pack of cards for their tower, Malamar raised a tentacle glowing in psychic power. With both scrafty backs to it, a card from the middle of the tower pulled itself out.

Piers’ scrafty gasped and tried to hold the wobbling tower together, but only managed to save the top two cards from falling. As the scrafty started to argue, Grimsnarl went to the wooden crate next to the stage. She sat her ball inside and began to dig through the pokemon toys until she found another ball. This ball was worn and patched up. She wandered over to Malamar to talk.

Skuntank, Toxtricity, and Aegislash lounged against one of the crumbling stadium walls as Morpeko chewed on a berry. They made friendly conversation until Grimsnarl and Malamar came over. Grimsnarl raised her ball.

Skuntank shrugged and spoke to Aegislash. Malamar sneered at Aegislash. Aegislash rolled his eye and pushed himself up. Skuntank slowly lumbered to his feet. Toxtricity shook his head. Morpeko tossed her berry up and caught it in her mouth before standing as well.

Piers nudged Marnie and pointed at the pokemon as they walked to the middle of the stadium.

Grimsnarl tossed the ball and hit it to Skuntank. Skuntank bopped it with his head. The ball dropped towards Aegislash. Aegislash raised an arm to hit it, but Malamar’s tentacle shot out and smacked the ball up. Aegislash snapped something at Malamar, who ignored him.

Piers chuckled to himself as the game of hot potato continued. Every time the ball neared Aegislash, Malamar or Grimsnarl made sure to hit it before he could. Of course, they were testing him. Being on the former champion’s team wasn’t enough to prove Aegislash worthy, even with Stuntank and Morpeko's approval.

Soon Aegislash had enough. When Malamar went to hit the ball for himself, Aegislash shadow sleeked behind him. He burst from the ground and slapped the ball towards Grimsnarl. The attack on her friend took Grimsnarl by surprise. She stumbled back trying to hit the ball but missed. For the first time since the game started, the ball bounced against the floor.

Skuntank cackled. Morpeko chased after the ball. Malamar stared at Aegislash, who held his ground.

Marnie started to push off the stage to break up the fight, but Piers put a hand out to stop her.

After a few tense heartbeats, Malamar coughed a laugh. He covered his beak and shook his head. Grimsnarl took the ball back from Morpeko. Seeing the newfound respect for Aegislash from Malamar, she went back over to the box to switch the worn, old ball, for a nicer ball with a pink and cream polka-dot pattern.

Marnie let out a breath. Piers tossed a chip in his mouth.

He knew things would work out well. Like his trainer, Aegislash was endearing in his determination.

He wondered what Leon was doing while the Spikemuth pokemon played. As late as it was, he was probably home, or maybe he was training with Mr. Rime for the contest. Piers could almost see him now working with Mr. Rime to pose in time with some pop song.

Leon worked hard for what he wanted. It's no wonder he became champ so young and held the title for nearly a decade. If Piers had that kind of drive, he wouldn’t have left Spikemuth fall into disrepair as he did.

He bet he could ask Leon to help him fix up Spikemuth, and not just the gym. The outside walls needed the myriad of penises and breasts painted over. He could do it, but it would be better with some company, particularly with company that had the energy of a sugar-high puppy. Enjoying the outside air, just talking and working—That would be fun. Piers would be willing to wake up early for that.

Piers reached into his chip container absentmindedly but found nothing but salt. He jerked out of his thoughts to see his last two chips disappear—one into Morpeko’s mouth and one into Marnie’s.

“The hell?” He held his hands out towards the empty container.

“Do you have a new girlfriend?” She asked bluntly.

Piers choked on his tongue. “What?” He shook his head. “No! Why would you think that?”

“A boyfriend? A non-binary friend?”

“No,” Piers assured. “I don’t have anyone.”

“Huh.” Marnie scratched Morpeko behind the ears. “You had that look on your face.”

“Look?” Piers’ stomach clenched as he asked, “What look?”

“That look.” Marnie pulled her pokemon to her lap. “The one you get before Morpeko and me find some gushy love song folded up on the living room floor. It happens every time.”

Piers’ ears grew hot. Twice, Marnie found his secret love songs twice. For that reason, he didn’t even write them on scrap paper anymore but in a nondescript notebook in his dresser drawer—which he hadn’t pulled out since he broke up with an ex gym trainer more than a year ago.

Morpeko stuck her tongue out in disgust at finding another love song. She clambered over Marnie’s arms to the chips container. Morpeko licked her paw, dabbed it in the leftover salt, and cleaned her paw before hopping off the stage to rejoin the game.

“I don’t have a look like that.”

“Yes, you do,” Marnie replied in a sing-song voice. “You get this far away look on your face and a little, tiny smile like you’re thinkin' of somethin’ soft. I only see it when you’re datin’ someone or,” her eyes widen in realization, “you gotta crush.”

Piers’ stomach unclenched and fell to his boots.

“You’ve got a crush, dotcha?” His little sister pried. “Who is it? Do they like you back? Can they like you back? Are they a trainer? What’s their pokemon team? Do you see them often?”

Piers' head spun, blurring the rest of Marnie’s inquiries.

No way. He was too old for crushes, for one thing. For two, if Marnie’s theory held any water, then his ‘crush’ would be Leon.

That wasn’t possible.

Sure, he admired Leon’s strength and his determination. His kindness towards pokemon and others was sweet if a little goody-two-shoes. He was much more clever than he first appeared. His athletic frame stole Piers' attention and he wouldn't mind leaning up against that strength-trained chest.

Oh. Arceus. No.

Piers’ face reddened as he cataloged his thoughts. He did have a crush. He had a crush on Leon. Leon was the Chairman of the League. Not only that, he was and still is the poster child for preppy, sporty trainers everywhere. Leon was the goal children were taught to chase if they wanted to compete.

Only the trainers from Team Yell ever wanted to be anything like Piers, a badass who sang to his own song, not the one society dictated.

Sponsors flocked to Leon like mothim to a flame for his perfect public persona.

Only the Spikemuth Chamber of Commerce ever sponsored Piers, and that’s only because they always sponsored the gym leader.

Leon was the light that the world idolized.

He was the darkness that fought back to prove to those that the shadows were protective and safe for people like him. He was a fierce dark-type trainer. He sang punk rock. He had a band of miscreants who would follow his every order.

He could not have a crush on Leon.

Yet, he did.

What if people found out? Arceus, if news got around he wanted some of Leon’s finely toned ass—

“Piers?” Marnie poked his cheek.

He jumped, losing his balance and tumbling off the stage.

At the thud of his fall, the pokemon stopped their game. Obstagoon tossed his crisps bag aside to barrel towards his trainer. He skidded to his knees, dramatically throwing his claws up and crying out as if Piers fell off a ten-story building.

Marnie hopped down. Crouching, she asked, “Did you break your face?”

Piers groaned loudly. “Dark void, open up and swallow me. I no longer want to live in this cruel world that would play my heart like a harp string and snap it with its sick, twisted irony.”

Once Piers went on with his dramatic monologue, the pokemon returned to their games, confident Piers was fine. Obstagoon patted the back of Piers’ head reassuringly.

Marnie crouched next to him. “Is the person you have a crush on that bad? Are they married or,” she lowered her voice, “old?”

“We’re the same age.” Piers didn’t lift his head from the ground. “He’s single as far as I know.”

Marnie poked his cheek. “So what’s the matter? Are you too scared to ask him out?”

“No. It’s worse than that.” Piers crawled into Obstagoon’s lap and leaned his back against the warm, somewhat smelly, fur. Obstagoon wrapped him in a hug. He’d seen his trainer confused and in a pansexual punk panic before. Piers needed all the comfort Obstagoon could give him.

Marnie tucked her legs under her and waited expectantly for Piers to clarify.

He sighed, slumping farther down Obstagoon’s lap. Obstagoon’s arm fur tickled his nose as he buried his face in it.

“I can’t ask him out,” Piers muttered. “He’s my opposite.”

“Opposite?” Marnie echoed.

“Opposite,” Piers repeated. He paused, then said, “I’m punk. He does ballet. What more can I say?”

Her brows furrowed. She opened her mouth, then shut it, opened, shut, then tilted her head with one eyebrow raised.

"He dances?”

Piers rolled his head away. “You kids have no culture.” He sighed. “He’s the kind of person every kid wants to be like. I’m the kind of person kids stop comin’ to community gyms to train because of.”

Marnie hit her fist into her palm. “Oh, I get it. You don’t want to drag down his rep ‘cause people think you’re a lazy delinquent.”

“Hey!” Piers bolted up, right into Obstagoon’s hanging tongue. He wiped the slobber off his forehead with his forearm. He jabbed a finger at Marnie.

“It’s the other way around. He’d pull mine up from a mysterious, cool rebel rocker.”

He cringed at himself. Out loud it sounded childish. What was he, a schoolboy?

Piers flopped back against Obstagoon, grabbed Obstagoon’s arm, and dropped it over his face.

“Suffocate me. Please. I need to die to escape this torment.”

With a humph, Marnie wrapped her arms around Obstagoon’s thick forearm and lifted. She looked down at her brother with a frown.

“That’s it?” She shook her head. “That’s sad.”

“You’re a kid. You don’t understand.” Piers countered, trying to pull Obstagoon’s arm back over his face.

Marnie wrinkled her nose and tugged against Piers’ attempts.

“I am not.” She dug her feet into the ground. “It is sad. If you’re a ‘mysterious, cool, rebel rocker,’ why should you care what anyone thinks?”

Piers dropped his hands to his lap.

Without the opposing force against her, Marnie fell backward, still clinging to Obstagoon’s arm. Instead of letting her fall, Obstagoon lifted his arm, leaving her hanging off the ground. He carefully lowered her, but she kept his arm pressed against her chest.

Piers pushed himself up to his feet. He patted the back of his shirt, throwing black and white fur into the air. Without a word, he headed to the stage and picked up the trash from their food.

“Piers?” Marnie hugged Obstagoon’s arm to her chest. “Are you ok? I didn’t break you, did I?”

Piers turned. “Yeah. Just fine.” He walked back, bag in hand. A smile spread across his face as he reached up and ruffled her hair.

“You’re right. I was being the opposite of cool.” He admitted, prying her hands off Obstagoon's arm. “Thanks for reminding me.”

Marnie was right. He was the cool, fierce master of dark-type pokemon. He became one of the strongest trainers in all of Galar without resorting to Dynamax in a pinch.

Why the hell should he give a flying ratata’s ass about what other people think about who he wants to make out with?

He still didn’t want people knowing about his contest days. The stereotype of elitist snob coordinators still hung too closely to contests. The attraction could excuse Leon, but he didn't have a good enough excuse for dressing skuntank in a tophat and glittery, purple bow tie when he was still a stunky yet. Maybe if the contest scene grew a little, he could try again, but until then best keeping that particular secret under wraps.

Marnie shrugged, aloof. “It’s whatever. Someone needs to help you keep your head spun the right way around. I'm the only one qualified for it.”

“What would I do without you?” Piers chuckled.

“Die, probably,” Marnie replied. “So can you ask this guy out? Does he like you at all?”

Piers shrugged.

He didn’t know if Leon liked men. As far as he could remember, Leon never dated anyone of any gender. Leon had always been laser-focused on training and being the strongest trainer in Galar.

But if he did like men, would he be interested in Piers? He didn't know, but given how much time they’d be spending together training for the contest, maybe he could figure it out.

Marnie, her ponytails somewhat righted, asked, “If you need help, Gloria and me could—”

“I’d rather step on a pincurchin,” Piers cut her off, crushed the paper bag into a ball, and tossed it to the side. It bounced and went right through Scrafty's new card tower.

"Sorry," he apologized.

Scrarfy sobbed and slumped back. Marnie’s scrafty looked towards him then sighed. She walked around and helped him pick up the cards, their friendship restored.

“I’ll tell you if I find out anything.” He pointed at the hot potato game still ongoing with his thumb. “Right now, though, you and me don’t need boys when we can play with the best pokemon in the Galar region, though.” To Grimsnarl, he shouted, "Oi, toss it to me!"

Marnie giggled as Piers took her wrist and led her towards the game.

----

AN: Shout out to my friend Sara for the help with this! You da best!!! ^-^)/ Next chapter should be next week? I'll probably post to A03 first though if you want less of a wait.

Also feel free to follow my art blog @uas-art if you enjoyed the chapter art.

[thatonerandomfan4]

Madness Combat: Just Bros Being Dudes

AO3 Link:

(Hhh This Took A Long Ass While Lmao)

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Fandom: Madness Combat

Characters: Deimos, Sanford, Hank (Briefly), Jebus (Briefly), Tricky (Briefly)

Platonic Or Romantic?: Romantic Sanmos

Summary: Just A Normal Saturday In Nevada For The Boyfriends, Sanford And Deimos. They Also Share Their First Kiss With The Help Of Hank And Tricky Thanks To A Text Message. Also Deimos Makes A Lot Of Jokes, If You Know Them Then Congrats. :) If Not, That's Ok.

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The Sound Of The Alarm Clock Went Off At 8:00 AM, Causing Deimos To Wake Up From His Slumber. He Sat Up From The Sleeping Position He Was In And Yawned While Stretching Before Hitting The Snooze Button And Rubbing His Eyes. Looking Over To His Side, He Noticed Sanford Was Absent From His Side Of The Bed. It Was Cold, So He Had Been Probably Gone For A While Now. It Was Done Nicely Compared To The Smaller Man's Side Of The Bed, Which Was Very Messy.

Deimos Knew San Liked To Wake Up An Hour Or Two Earlier Than Him All The Time. He Did That Even If They Weren’t Being Bothered By The L33t / A.A.H.W (Agency Against Hank Wimbleton) Groups Anymore. Deimos Slipped On The Closest Pair Of Slippers He Had By The Bed And Headed Toward The Kitchen. There He Heard Pans Being Set Down On The Stove Or In The Sink To Be Washed Later And Bacon Sizzling In A Pan.

Sanford Was At The Stove Making Breakfast While Whistling One Of Their Favorite Songs. That Favorite Song Happened To Be Poker Face By Lady Gaga, Deimos Would Always Sing And Dance Happily To It While Sanford Watched And Laughed During Their Breaks In Between Missions. Deimos Instantly Smiled At The Sight Of His Boyfriend Being In A Good Mood On A Morning. Everyone Knew Sanford Wasn't Much Of A Morning Person, He Was Only Cheerful When He Knew He Was Going To Have A Good Day.

It Always Was Fun Going On Missions Together And Then Getting To Relax With Each Other Afterwards. They Loved To Chat And Goof Off With Each Other All The Time. The Smaller Man Quietly Shuffled Into The Kitchen Being Careful Not To Distract The Man Cooking And Sat Down In A Chair. Ford Smiled And Flipped The Pancakes In The Pan. San Turned Around To See His Beloved Boyfriend Sitting At The Table.

Sanford, Smug: “Enjoying The View, Dee?’

Deimos, Jumping In Surprise And Hiding His Face In Embarrassment: “U-Uh What? Yeah, I Like Roses. I Mean What-”

Sanford, Giggling A Bit: “What? Anyway, How Many Pancakes Do You Want?”

Deimos: “Ooo, Can I Have 4?”

Sanford Nods And Turns Around, Walking Back To The Stove To Continue Their Breakfast. Deimos Watched His Boyfriend With Love In His Eyes. Dee Loved Watching His Boyfriend Do Anything; He Even Has A Whole Photo Album Full Of...Just Sanford In Battle Poses, Laying Down, Sitting, Ect..

Sanford Knew About Deimos’s Pictures. He Didn’t Really Mind, It Was Just When They Got Posted Online And Girls Were Coming To The Posts and Simping For The Man In The Bandana. Cut Back To Deimos Looking At Sanford With Love In His Eyes, Dee’s Tablet Vibrated On The Table.

Deimos Quickly Picked It Up, And Saw It Was From Hank. His Panic Died Down A Bit, And He Just Stared At The Notification. Like Sanford, Hank Liked Getting Up Early So He Can Get Things Done. One Of Those Things Would Be Making Sure Tricky Wasn’t Eating All The Food In The Fridge. Tricky Normally Has To Be Fed At Least 8 Times A Day To Ease His Chaotic Nature For A Few Minutes At Most. Then Jebus Has To Look After Him For Safety Reasons.

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Hank: Deimos. Are You Up?

Hank: Deimos? It's 7:04 AM.

Hank: ?

Hank: Deimos??

Hank: Oh Yeah. I Forgot You Like To Sleep In

Hank: You're Probably Going To Wake Up At 8:30 AM, As Always.

Hank: Anyway, I Just Wanted To Say Tricky Misses You Guys. He Keeps Talking About You And He’s Wondering If You 2 Can Come Play With Him Later Today Or Tomorrow.

Hank: He's Happy You Two Are A Couple Now. He Bought A Gift For You Too.

Hank: Well….He Stole It, Then I Had To Pay For The Damage….AND The Gift

Hank: Also, Quick Question….Have You 2 Even Kissed Yet?

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

There Was Silence For A Good 3 Seconds Until Deimos Screamed, Startling Sanford. The Tablet Fell On The Table Before Ford Could Even Reach His Boyfriend. The Man In The Bandana Hugged His Boyfriend To Calm Him. Ford Thought It Was Some Fangirl Who Messaged Him And Sent Something Gross As That Happened Very Often. He Took The Tablet To See For Himself, And Snorted When He Saw The Message. He Looked At Deimos Desperately Trying Not To Laugh At What He Saw.

Sanford: “You-” *He Quietly Giggles, Trying Not To Embarrass Deimos On Purpose* “You’re Screaming Because We Haven’t Kissed Yet?”

Deimos: “Well- I- Yo- We- He-”

He Was Immediately Silenced By His Boyfriend’s Lips Making Contact With His. They Stayed Like That For A Few Minutes Before Sanford Pulled Back And Got Back To The Stove. Deimos Just Sat There In Shock, His Face All Hot And Red. That Was Their First Ever Kiss, And Deimos Wanted To Be Involved Too. Just Thinking About It Made Him More Flustered. He Must've Been Spaced Out For A While Because When He Looked Up, Sanford Wasn't There. He Checked His Tablet Again And Saw A Notification: A Text From Hank.

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

Hank: Lol. Sanford Told Me You Screamed When I Asked.

Hank: That Probably Was Really Funny In Person

Hank: If Only He Recorded It.

Hank: *[One Attachment Sent]*

{Hank: He Didn’t Answer My Question. Did You Guys Kiss Yet Orrr?

Sanford: Well Yes And No. You Embarrassed Him Lol. It Was So Funny Haha

Sanford: He Screamed When He Saw Your Message, Then I Kissed Him.

Hank: Pfft- Are You Serious?! Wow Lol

Sanford: Yeah Lmao. Made Me Throw A Pancake At The Ceiling. It Was Mine Too :(

Sanford: Good Wasted Pancake :(

Sanford: *[One Attachment Sent]* {Image Description: A Gray Tiled Ceiling With A Medium-Sized Pancake Smacked In Between 4 Tiles.}

Hank: XD}

Deimos: I-

Deimos: YOU!! >:( THAT WAS YOUR FAULT HANK J. WIMBLETON!!

Deimos: YOU MADE HIM WASTE HIS PANCAKE. THAT WAS YOU!!

Deimos: YOU FUDGING BULLY >:(

Deimos: I'LL HECKING FIGHT YOU!!

Hank: XD

Hank: Yeah Right Lol. I'll See You Later

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

A Couple Minutes Pass And Sanford Taps Deimos On The Shoulder. Dee Turns Around To See His Boyfriend Fully Dressed. A Pile Of Clothes Was Placed In The Seat Next To The Shorter Man. Deimos Could Only Assume It Was His Clothing, As Hank Did Invite Them Over To See Tricky. The Smoker Popped A Cigarette In His Mouth And Left To Get Dressed. Once He Got Back, He Put His Cigarette In The Ashtray And Got Sanford Greeted With A Kiss. Well 2, One On The Forehead And One On The Mouth.

Deimos: “You Know, You Could’ve Waited Till I Was Ready For The Kiss.”

Sanford: “Why? It Would’ve Been A Year Or Two If You Said You Were Ready. That’s Basically How Our Relationship Started. Everyone Knows That, Ev-EVEN TRICKY KNOWS!”

Deimos’s Face Just Heated Up, He Knew That Was True And Couldn't Argue. After That Chat, Sanford And Deimos Got In Their Car And Headed To The Base. Deimos Was Messaging Hank During The Entire Ride. Hank Was Teasing Deimos A Lot About The Kiss, And How Deimos Reacted When It Was First Brought Up. Deimos Yelled-Texted At Hank Again, Causing The Man In The Red Goggles To Laugh Again. Dee Put His Tablet Away Once They Got To The Base. Of Course, None Other Than Hank Himself Was There To Greet Them And Welcome Them Back In.

They Passed The Savior, Jebus, Who Was Reading A Book, Supposedly A Bible Or Something He Could Find Lying Around. He Was Sitting At A Table With Red Wine In A Fancy Glass And Biscuits On A Plate. Deimos Wondered If Hank Told Him About It, Since He Received A Teasing Look. Sanford Just Thought Nothing Of It, And Wanted To See If Tricky Had Actually Changed Since Their Last Encounter With Him.

Once They Approached Tricky's Room, Or Area (Whatever You Would Call It), They Saw Signs Like 'Caution: Beware The Clown', And 'Do Not Enter Unless You Are Hank'. They Were Also Greeted By The Sound Of Someone Eating Something Viciously.

Looking From The Glass Window On The Wall, They Saw The Clown Filling His Face With All Different Kinds Of Food. He Stopped To Grab A Drink, But Got Distracted By Seeing Hank With Sanford And Deimos. Tricky Immediately Ran To The Glass And Smacked His Face Against It, Causing Ford And Dee To Jump Back.

Tricky Smiled In Delight After Seeing Deimos And Sanford For The First Time In A Long While. He Waved Through The Glass, Then Rushed To The Speaker. The Faint Sound Of Someone Yelling 'HAAANNK!' And 'VALID. FRIENDS' Could Be Heard Through The Speaker. The Door Suddenly Opened Slowly, The Smell Of All Kinds Of Foods Plus Blood Pouring Out Of The Opening And The Cracks. The Clown Immediately Jumped Out Of The Room, Startling The Trio.

Tricky: "SANFORD! HANK! DEIMOS! FRIENDS! VALID. YES."

Hank Actually Smiled Upon Tricky's Entrance, He Patted The Clown's Head Twice And Let The Other 2 Do The Same Thing After. They Talked About Everything That Happened, And Caught Up With Each Other. Jebus Entered The Room Half Way Through The Conversation And Joined In. They Chatted For Hours, Tricky Was The One To Point Out The Time To Everyone. Sanford Said That He And Deimos Had To Leave, As It Was Late (11:12 PM).

They Said Their Goodbyes Before Ford And Dee Headed Out. They Stayed Silent In The Car, Just Thinking About How Much The Others Have Changed. Tricky, Who Has Become More Friendly And Takes Baths. Hank, Who Is More Calm And 'Married To A Blender'. And Jebus, Who Has More Control And Is Starting To Learn Dad Jokes.

Deimos: "I Had Fun Chatting With Them After A While. I Just Wish Candice Was There With Us, I Miss Her."

Sanford: "...We Didn't Know A Candice."

Deimos, Grinning: "I Know Candice. I've Known Her For A While Now."

Sanford, Not Falling For It: "Good For You. Is She Nice?"

Deimos: "....Y-Yeah…...Although Her House Really Smells Like Updog. It's A Problem."

Sanford: "......Really?"

Deimos, Pushing The Joke: "Yes, Especially The Kitchen. It Really Reeks Of Updog. It's Disgusting, Bleck"

Sanford, Sighing And Smiling: "What Is Updog?"

Deimos, Giggling Like A Child: "Nahat Much Wh-"

Deimos Couldn't Finish His Sentence Because He Was Laughing. Sanford Just Snorted And Smiled, He Always Knew How He Could Get His Boyfriend Lost In Laughter. Even If A Joke Wasn't Really That Funny, Deimos Could Be Laughing For An Hour. He Absolutely Loves Jokes Of All Kinds And It Doesn't Matter Who Tells Them. By The Time They Arrived Home, Deimos Was Still Slightly Giggling And Wiping A Tear From His Eye.

Sanford Carried Deimos Into The House, As The Man In The Visor Finished His Giggling Fit. Ford Set His Boyfriend Onto The Couch And Started Getting Ready For Bed. He Left Dee Some Comfy Clothes To Slip Into For Bed. About A Couple Minutes Later They Both Were On The Couch In Pajamas (Or Just Clothes They Never Wear To Work).

Deimos: "Why Weren’t You Laughing At The Joke, Sanford?"

Sanford: "The Joke Wasn't That Funny, Deimos. You've Heard It Over One Hundred Times Already."

Deimos, Giggling Again: "But..It's Funny."

Sanford, Trying Not To Smile: "It-It's Really Not."

Deimos, Now Full On Laughing: "I- It Was Funny When Hank Fell For The Candice Joke." *He Smacked His Side While He Laughed* "It Hurt Like Hell, But It Was Worth It!"

Sanford, Smiling But Trying Hard Not To Laugh: "Oh Right I Forgot About That."

Sanford Then Let Deimos Cuddle Against Him As He Laughed Again. He Only Laughed Harder When Sanford Yelled, 'It's Not That Funny!'. Eventually, Ford Was Laughing As Well With His Boyfriend. They Laughed Until They Eventually Fell Asleep. Today Was A Good Day For Both Of Them, And They Were Happy They Could Spend It Together, Like Old Times.

[poteeto-chip]

I posted 609 times in 2021

38 posts created (6%)

571 posts reblogged (94%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 15.0 posts.

I added 132 tags in 2021

#sakura haruno - 26 posts

#haruno sakura - 20 posts

#haha - 16 posts

#kakashi hatake - 14 posts

#lol - 13 posts

#hatake kakashi - 12 posts

#itachi uchiha - 9 posts

#naruto fanfiction - 8 posts

#sasuke uchiha - 7 posts

#naruto fanfic - 7 posts

Longest Tag: 80 characters

#and kakashi starts sweating and is like ‘o-oh yeah. i have a uhh report. see ya’

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

New Story!

I started writing this fic a long time ago, but never tried posting it. I abandoned it for a while but I am BACK and we are revamping this story and posting it! You can find it here

I already have the first section out, the second one will be out on Saturday.

Preview:

Sakura then hobbled over to her bedroll and flopped down onto her stomach. She stretched out all her limbs as Kakashi dragged his bedroll closer to hers.

Sakura looked up. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Moving my bedroll closer."

Sakura rolled her eyes. "No, duh. What I meant was why are you moving it closer."

Kakashi sat down right next to where she lay. "I thought that since it was cold out here, we should lay closer together to share body heat."

Also! The second chapter of Alstroemerias will be out tomorrow night!

13 notes • Posted 2021-06-30 05:57:49 GMT

#4

Alstroemerias Chapter 3!

Find it here!

Yes! I posted the third chapter. I got a little bit more explaining done in it, but it's only half as long as the others. Which is sad. But still!

Preview

"Does it hurt anywhere? I mean, I thought I did a good job healing your leg and your arm shouldn't hurt unless I did it wrong b-"

"I'm fine, Sakura." Itachi whispered, successfully cutting off her worried ranting. Sakura's face morphed into one of relief.

"That's good to hear. I assigned myself to be your personal medic." She paused. "Is it true that you have attempted to escape the hospital before?"

Itachi blanched. "So I was right!" Sakura laughed. "Well, if you try escaping this time, I will personally make sure that you will never try to leave again." She reached her hand up to caress his cheek, as if she had not just threatened him. "The receptionist cornered me earlier."

Thank you all so much for the support I have been getting on my stories. I appreciate it SO much. It means a lot.

13 notes • Posted 2021-07-08 03:51:30 GMT

#3

Oh wonderful mother of mine as she walks into my room: Are you okay? Why are you crying?

Me, visibly trying to stop the tears: The main character died (after the first main character was proclaimed dead) but he actually didn't so him and his lover can finally be together without any ties to other places or people.

I swear, my mom would probably think I'm insane. Anyways! I just needed to let everybody know of this amazing Naruto fanfiction I just read. For the second time. I swear, I'll probably end up reading it a third time.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/2430922/1/Loophole is part one.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/2925965/1/Genshi is part two.

READ.

15 notes • Posted 2021-07-30 05:14:06 GMT

#2

Hidden in the Mist Chap. 4

Heart-Stopping

I know, it's been forever. And I apologize.. I hope y'all enjoy this sadly too-short chapter.

Preview:

"Are you sure you're ready for that, girl?"

Sakura wanted to shout, 'No, not really.' but what came out was:

"Bring it on."

Zabuza laughed then, a deep, gravelly, kind of laugh, and reached for the sword on his back.

I'm going to die today, in this very spot.

Sakura's thoughts must have showed in her facial expressions, for her opponent was laughing harder.

IMPORTANT!

I have limited access to Tumblr, FF.Net, and AO3. My posting will be even more sporadic. I apologize for this, but there is nothing i can really do. I will do my best to update as regularly as I can.

15 notes • Posted 2021-11-02 15:06:43 GMT

#1

Alstroemerias

I have made a vow that I will not ramble on this post, so I am getting straight to the point. I have posted my first fanfic! You can find it on fanfiction.net and my username is RusBallerina. https://www.fanfiction.net/u/14820937/

Preview:

"I have wanted to meet you in person for a while now. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Uchiha Itachi."

Where had Sakura heard that first sentence before? Sakura pondered the man's name for a moment. "You're Sasuke-kun's brother, right?" The man nodded politely. "How may I help you Uchiha-san?"

"I came to take you to lunch." Itachi said. His face remained calm and expressionless, meanwhile Sakura was sputtering in confusion.

"Take me to lunch?" she asked incredulously. "For what reason?"

"I would like to get to know you." That phrase again. Where had she heard it before?

It's a really short first chapter, but I have the second one almost finished and it will be posted Wednesday!

15 notes • Posted 2021-06-28 14:41:12 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[mesangelique]

Part 1/2 of a story with a pairing no one requested : JOHN MARSTON/KIERAN DUFFY (I will post it on AO3 tomorrow)

Rating : R / 18+

Warning : alcohol, drunk sex, SMUT (but not in this part)

Thanks to @bluesilksilverspurs for the beta reading 🤠, I hope you will give this pairing a chance and like this first part ~

It's been a long day, an exhausting one. Arthur, John, Bill and Kieran went to Six Points cabin, hoping to find Colm O'Driscoll, but they found nothing spare a little cash, and Arthur's life had been saved by the « ex O'Driscoll boy » - otherwise known as Kieran Duffy. In doing so, Kieran had earned the right to be able to stay with the gang like any other member, doing chores and taking care of horses. Oh, he is well aware he won’t be able to disappear for days on end as Arthur or Micah do, but at least he won’t be tied to that tree anymore.

 

 When the group got back to the camp and were explaining to Dutch what had happened, Lenny had arrived, panting, terrified, babbling about Micah waiting to be hung in Strawberry’s jail. At that point, Dutch suggested Arthur take Lenny into Valentine to relax a little, and now, hours later, John noticed he himself was drunk as he stood up from the stool in the saloon. The world started to turn around as if he was on a roller coaster, but all he managed to do was order another drink.

 

 Arthur and Lenny had the great idea to invite John and Kieran to their little "having only one drink” thing. John was invited because he was standing there when Dutch suggested the outing, and Kieran mostly because that kid saved Mister Morgan's life - and desperately needed a bath. Hosea had also told Arthur that they had to accept him in the gang. John didn’t care much for stuff like that as long as this O’Driscoll was getting a good wash first.

 

 And speaking of the O'Driscoll boy - he had just taken a whiskey and sat right next to John, drinking thirstily straight from the bottle. John couldn't help but look at him, squinting his eyes. Now that he was clean, smelling of soap and tobacco instead of horseshit and piss, with his hair framing his thin face, he was not THAT disgusting… Actually, it was maybe the first time John was really looking at him; at his thin beard, his worried dark green eyes, his nose. John frowned. He shouldn’t be looking at him like that. But he was drunk.

 

 Yes, that's why.

 

 "Think ye can drink better than me, O'Driscoll boy?" He chuckled deeply, his laugh raspy like his voice. He didn't have to find anything else to say to have Kieran looking at him with his scared deer eyes, a rabbit about to run for his dear life. "C'mere I'll show ya how WE drink."

 

 Not giving him time to answer, he grabbed Kieran's whiskey bottle and brought it to his lips, taking big gulps, the whisky running right down his throat, burning and warming him up, and once he had run out of breath he handed the bottle back. John had to admit he was quite proud of his performance - he didn't choke or end up coughing.

 

 "Dare you to do better than that. O'Driscoll." He whispered, leaning a bit towards Kieran, smirking arrogantly. Why was he like this suddenly? Why did he suddenly want to impress that O'Driscoll boy? Ah yes, he was drunk, maybe he didn’t have to search further for a reason, maybe …

 

 Kieran’s eyes were wide, seeing his bottle being stolen like that. He was already tipsy, so he didn’t react like he normally would. Actually, he had been focusing on John Adam’s apple, the way it had bobbed up and down as he swallowed the alcohol… That ride earlier, where his body was fully pressed against the other man’s had made him look at John Marston differently.

 

 And here, now, he was mostly drunk, and his initial shyness was gone. He was just chuckling, cheeks red like a teenager, a happy one, the one he never was. Being alone like this with John should be quite embarrassing, to be honest, and at first he had been afraid. But now... John was so drunk he probably wouldn’t be able to walk straight. He was giggling and evidently really proud of his drinking performance.

 "Gimme that- you'll see I can!" Kieran retorted, reacting to John’s arrogant smirk and trying to avoid looking too long at the man’s lips and at that drop of whisky on his neck. Without much more thought, he took the bottle and emptied it. A delicious burning sensation in his throat, his head feeling so light he could float. All his anxiety, all his problems just drowned in the liquor, and so he laughed, pushing the bottle away, proudly looking at the other man.

 "Ah ah! See Marston? Was able to follow you on this!" Kieran chuckled, smiling and wiggling his eyebrows (or trying to do so at least). He closed his eyes for a few seconds and suddenly, a hot wave was spreading all over his body, thickening his saliva. Now he was looking at John, at his dirty hair, his three days old beard, his scars … How fascinating are these scars, how marvellous they are … That very one on his lips.

 "Pheeew, it’s so hot in here." The ex-O’Driscoll breathed out, looking at the ceiling, taking his dust coat off. He felt like he was on fire right now. He would love to jump naked in some river... or in some horse's trough. His cheeks were red and burning, and he could almost feel sweat droplets forming on the back of his neck. He continued, "So hot in here…. So, what we doin' now – ya know, since I finished the bottle" Kieran chuckled, trying to get rid of his neckerchief.

 

 Oh he is a mess, a fucking mess right now, unable to talk properly, babbling shitty stuff that is ricocheting about in his head. He must be mad - drinking that whole bottle hadn’t really been a good idea. Even if he thought it had impressed John… John had watched him emptying the bottle, mesmerized, in fact, by the sight of that boy drinking like he hadn't drank in days.

 

 "Ain'tcha a thirsty one, eh?" John had given a husky laugh when Kieran lowered the empty bottle and then started whining about the temperature. He can feel a warm feeling in his groin, spreading up his spine right now, and it is making him feel like he is burning too. That very same feeling he has when a pretty lady walks by and he pulls her onto his lap. The only problem is that he ain't looking at a pretty lady right now. He is looking at a very drunk O'Driscoll boy. Well, an ex-O’Driscoll boy. He is looking at Mister Duffy. Kieran. Kieran Duffy. What kind of a fool is he, John Marston, to be looking at a guy like this? The last time it happened was a decade ago. But he is drunk tonight, so that must be why. That’s obviously why.

 

 "I suppose you're pretty hot now what with all that booze you've been drinkin'. C'mon, let's get out of here and take some air" John grumbled, pushing away from the counter and bumping into some tables before finally making it to the back door. He opened it roughly, almost knocking an old man backwards while doing so. John could hear Kieran behind him, trying to act naturally, as if they hadn’t just been drinking like two sailors, and as he held the door open for him, he was able to clearly see that Kieran was having a hard time even walking straight.

 

 As Kieran drew level with John, he even tripped, and although John did not know how, or why, his reflex was to react fast, fast enough to grab him. The amount of alcohol in his own blood was sapping away at his strength though and ultimately he found himself pinning Kieran against the nearest wall with the weight of his whole body, his hands on each side of Kieran’s head and his face almost buried in his neck. His body felt spineless and he was suddenly very tired. Both of them were giggling like teenagers after their first beer. He couldn’t even feel his legs anymore. In fact, neither of them could feel their legs right now.

 

After almost collapsing on at least three occasions, they were both outside proper now. Navigating the tiny step outside of the saloon almost pitched both of them over, which was no surprise at all seeing as how drunk they were, but now they were here, leaning against another wall. How did they even make it this far? No one will ever know.

 

"You alright?" John asked in a thick voice, their noses nearly touching. They are close. Really, really close. Kieran can feel every piece of the wood behind him snagging on his shirt and scratching his back, he can feel how muddy the ground is, how cold the air is but how hot he feels, like he is burning inside. He tried to focus on everything but their sudden closeness. Because the problem is the ex-O’Driscoll is far more into men than the church wants him to be, than society wants him to be – it’s a problem he has known about for a long time, and has tried to hide for even longer… people get hanged for it. Kieran could hear his heart in his ears, his blood pumping roughly, and his lungs running out of air, his tongue heavy in his mouth but most importantly that warmth waking up in his lower belly, spreading in his groin, curling up his spine. Having John Marston, drunk, his nose almost against his, his body flush against him... He swallowed thickly, looking at John’s lips as though hypnotised, and managed to nod, his green, greyish eyes glancing over John’s scars.

 

"Y-es. 'Am alright, Mister." He whispers.

 

 John's breathing was suddenly deep and fast. He could feel Kieran's warmth mixing with his own. Strangely, he didn’t mind. He knew damn well he was already growing hard, mostly because of the  alcohol, of course. He always got so horny when he started getting drunk, so the fact that it was Kieran and not another cheap whore isn’t so surprising, right? The fact that he found Kieran’s eyes fascinating and his lips kissable right now, and his so thin, fragile collarbone beautiful – that was just the alcohol. This closeness wasn’t helping, creating friction on his - their - cock under his – their - pants, having him - them - hum deeply, both acting like they did not hear or feel the other.

 

"Yea? That's good then. Yea."

 

 There was a silence then when John met Kieran's eyes, and his mind was filled up with dark fantasy and desire and want and that need of possession. He rarely felt that with a girl, that possessiveness rising. But he had really drank a lot tonight, they both had really drank a lot, and Kieran looked like a lamb waiting for a wolf to eat him.

 

 "Thought you were hot? Gotta do something about that, right?" John whispered thickly, lowering his eyes to Kieran's throat, almost able to hear his thundering beating heart when his hands went to the collar of his shirt and started working on the buttons. The alcohol doesn’t help his fingers at all, but he was slipping one button free and then another…

 

"Yeah- I'm… I'm hot - but w...whatabout you ?" Kieran whispered back, trying to keep his voice steady, but freezing immediately, unsure. He could feel John’s hands on his shirt, feel his fingers working on opening it – the way his breath was coming quicker and his eyes had grown significantly darker. Kieran couldn’t help but bite his lip, and couldn’t decide if he hoped John would notice it or not, the way he himself has noticed John’s hooded lustful gaze and the way he is staring at his face, his neck.

[theprojectava]

The Silent War

Sooo...remember the last post s8 fix-it post I made? I wrote a little something for it (I’ll upload it on ao3, too, but I still have to make an account there).

It’s not beta read and I suck at writing stuff in English since it’s not my mother tongue. Please bear with me. :)

(Fic’s under the cut)

Our room is dark, the blinds are shut tight

And everything is still too much outside

When he left it hurt like hell. It felt like Shiro had finally run out of time. He should've said something sooner.

There had always been tomorrow, another time, next week, after this mission,when this meeting's over, promise, I'll tell him then!

The war had finally, officially ended. But not for them. The universe was in disarray – all the Galra Empire had left in its wake were ruins and ashes of whole worlds burnt to nothing. The war had never stopped and so their duties as Paladins and diplomats of planet Earth continued to tear them apart. Silently. For no one to see. Not even Shiro.

He only felt the sensation of something finally ripping, when it was too late. Keith was gone. By the time they noticed, he was already on the other end of the known universe, fighting off war criminals and rebuilding what was left of civilizations that had taken the brunt of the Empire's wrath over thousands of years. Somebody had to do it, Shiro told himself again and again. And of course it had to be Keith. This was what he was born for. The stars. If he was completely honest with himself he had always known that the younger man was never meant to stay on the ground with both his feet. The moment he had seen him so many years ago, he had known. Keith was meant to fly and reach for the stars or go crashing down with them.

But it still hurt so much. Because in spite of knowing that this day would come, he still wasn't prepared to let him go. He wasn't prepared to lose the man that meant everything to him.

Maybe it had taken him too long to realize what Keith really meant to him. That he couldn't live without him by his side. There had always been tomorrow, another time, next week... The possibility that there would be a tomorrow without Keith by his side seemed so impossible after all they went through. But maybe that's what went wrong in the end. Shiro had taken Keith for granted – a constant in his life that would always be there, no matter what. And now it was too late.

It may be over but not tonight

I may be older but I still cry

I can't stop sleeping in your clothes

You can't stop calling on the phone

Keith never reacted to any of his text messages. Whether it was because he was busy... or for a whole different reason Shiro didn't even want to think of, he didn't know. Silence was all there was between them now. With every unanswered message the hurt sunk deeper into his heart. It festered there and turned into bitterness with every passing month. He felt hollow inside. As Admiral and part of the Terran Delegation there was quite enough work on his hands to keep him busy for most of the day. But every time he'd come back home to a dark apartment and cold sheets he felt like sinking deeper into an all consuming emptiness. He should've given up trying to contact Keith by now. He knew that. In fact he should've stopped thinking about the other man every waking hour. The only problem was... he didn't know how. It was all he'd ever done.

Can't you see I'm in recovery?

Just let it be, I'm in recovery

I'm holding on, I know I'm almost there

Storm reach out and tell me that you care

It stung like a knife to the chest when he found out that he seemed to be the only one who hadn't heard of Keith for almost a year. He'd met up with Pidge at one point, visited Lance and Allura on New Altea merely two months ago. He'd even made it to congratulate Hunk on his family's new house in person... The only one who hadn't seen him ever since he left... was Shiro.

Later he'd wonder if that had been the last straw. If that was what finally broke him. When he found out Keith was back on earth for a few days without telling him, he snapped. He packed all his stuff and left his office like a raging storm. He knew he shouldn't corner Keith like that. He knew deep down, that it was wrong. Patience yields focus, remember? But he didn't care for one second. His whole body felt numb, yet at the same time so full of cold anger. He needed answers. Nobody stopped him when he mounted one of the hoverbikes and sped off into the desert. He knew exactly where to find Keith.

When he reached the shack he knew Keith was there, even before he saw the younger man's pale face in the door frame. He was hurting them. Both of them and Shiro knew. But there was no turning back from this conversation now. There was no way this could go on for any longer. Shiro already felt like crumbling to pieces, he couldn't stand the silence anymore. At this point he really believed that he couldn't hurt much more. He'd been through torture and war. He'd survived the pits. He'd survived experimentation and losing his arm. He died and came back... But there was no way he could withstand this.

The moment they started talking Shiro could already tell Keith was closing in on himself, building up walls even he couldn't tear down anymore. The telltale twitching of his hands, the way his shoulders hunched... Keith was unreadable to most people. Anyone else would've thought of him as indifferent to what was going on. Shiro, on the other hand, knew what to look for. He could read Keith like a book. And that's where the fighting began.

Being shut out felt like a slap in the face. It burnt right down to his very core.

“It's better this way”, Keith told him. “I'm sorry...”

They screamed at each other. They cried. Two thrashing animals caught in a trap, neither of them ready to go down. Ultimately, it was all in vain. Keith had made his decision, for reasons unknown. He'd take this secret to the grave if he had to. Shiro would never know what drove the former Red Paladin away from him. But his choice was final.

Tears burnt in his eyes, when he turned to leave. He never wanted to do this... But the words bubbled up unbidden, nonetheless.

“Fine... If that's what you want. I won't stop you”, he looked back at Keith and saw the exact moment the words registered and hit home. “But don't expect me to be there when you decide to come back one day.”

That day he had hurt Keith in a way, he'd never forgive himself for. There was no going back from this. The damage had been done. He left without looking back, not expecting Keith to reach out and keep him from leaving. He never did, anyway.

I'm finally sober, I see the light

The worst is over, nobody died

I'm still trying to let you go

Oh baby, please, leave me alone

A brand new war began. One that Shiro wasn't sure he'd survive – a silent war. No one else could see it, but they could feel it. There was tension wherever Shiro went, hanging in the air around him like thick rain clouds. None of his friends dared saying anything – they all knew. They had to know. Because Keith never showed up to any of their anniversaries on New Altea, again. It was a silent war and this... this was Keith's way of opening fire. Shiro embraced it. Swallowed it. And then cried it out into the darkness of his empty bedroom, when no one else would hear.

Can't you see I'm in recovery?

Just let it be, I'm in recovery

I know you wanna say you're sorry

But I don't wanna hear that story

Days bled into weeks, weeks bled into months. His heartache wouldn't fade. Shiro's chest had become an open wound refusing to heal. When was the last time he had laughed? He didn't know. All he did these days was work himself into the ground, working overtime for hours on end until he was either too tired to think or fell asleep in his office. That was until he fainted during a meeting. There's only so much sleep deprivation a human-Galra-hybrid clone body can endure.

When he came to himself again there was a man hovering over him. He remembered him from the Atlas. One of the bridge staff. What was his name again? Carl? Curtis? Curtis.

“Are you alright, Sir?”, he asked.

It's weird... how things change so fast.

Turned out Curtis was what Shiro needed. For the moment. Talking to him was easy... kissing him was easier. Easy was good for now.

They moved in together after dating for a few months. Shiro proposed after another two or three. Of course Curtis said yes. Everything was easy with him. So why did Shiro feel like he was drowning? Sending the invitations to their wedding earned him a few rounds of interrogation from his friends, especially Allura and Pidge. They'd picked up on what had occurred between him and Keith – mainly because Keith had quite regular meetings with Allura and Lance on New Altea, since he became a senior member of the Blades... At least that's what Shiro heard. Both of them knew how much Shiro was hurting, but all they could do was give him sympathetic glances. They knew why Keith did what he did. That maybe protecting his own poor heart from potential hurt was what led to them silently tearing each other apart. It hurt to watch.

Of course they sent an invitation to Daibazaal, too. Since none of them knew Keith's current location, they'd chosen to send it to Krolia instead, knowing Keith would get it, sooner or later. That was Shiro's counterblow in this cold war between them.

Always thought you'd be the one

Who always needed me

My home, you'd be my home

After the wedding, the silence only grew. As did the emptiness in Shiro's life. His marriage lasted for a whole 2 years. The time it took them to get divorced included. There were no “I told you so”s from his friends – only support and a lot of hugs. Shiro didn't know what was worse. Because he himself had known this relationship was meant to crash and burn the moment he had proposed. Maybe before.

He felt terrible. Throwing his own heart in the line of fire because he couldn't let go of someone who clearly didn't want him was one thing... Pulling Curtis into this and putting his heart on the line as well, was a whole different thing. Has he always been such a terrible human being? Could this be the reason why Keith left? Because he'd seen how Shiro hurts the people around him on purpose? There was no way of knowing now. Keith was long gone... and yet, he was still everything Shiro ever knew.

Suddenly, your memory

In time is like an enemy, so cold

Five years. It had been five years since the last time they saw each other. Back in Keith's shack. Shiro's last words still rang in his ears, loud and clear. It had taken him a year or so, until he realized he'd used the same words Adam had thrown at him, before he'd left for the Kerberos mission. It felt like a lifetime ago. Another thing in a long line of things he regretted voicing or not voicing in front of Keith. It seemed like he never told Keith the most important things. But if he did tell him anything, only the wrong things came out. Things he never wanted anyone to hear. Unfair things.

The universe, as Shiro had known it, was in shambles.

A soft ping was all it took to tilt the universe back into the right direction. It was 3:00 am. An unusual time to get notifications nowadays. Shiro had stepped back from a few positions in the past year, slowly letting others take the reins. It was time for him to go back and teach at the Garrison... Or maybe... Maybe one day he'd see the stars again. He could hear them calling already.

Another ping and he was fully awake. With half lidded eyes a grabbed his phone. The bright orange light was nearly blinding in the darkness of his bedroom. He took one look at the display and nearly dropped the device into his own face. Wha-... Was he dreaming?!

There were two messages glaring back at him, taunting him. This had to be a dream. It had to.

Keith (03:02):

Dear Shiro.... I know I fucked up royally. Fuck, I'm not good at this. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It's been a while..... But can we maybe talk?

Keith (03:03):

I understand if you don't want to. I'll leave you alone if you don't want to see me. But I... I can't do this any longer.

Shiro's heartbeat was deafening. Blood rushed in his ears. He had to pinch himself to make sure this wasn't another cruel dream.

This was happening. This was really happening. It had been five years. Five years of silence.

His fingers moved before he could even register what was happening and pressed “send”.

Shiro (03:05):

Don't be. We both did a lot of fucking up. We can talk whenever you want.

It took about ten minutes and Shiro was ready to dose off again, when his phone went off. It wasn't a text message this time. But a video call.

“Hey.”

A single word. It only took a single word... His voice was tinny and rougher than he remembered. His hair had gotten longer. Long enough to be braided actually. There was an edge to his face that hadn't been there when Shiro last saw him. But it was Keith. Sweet, beautiful Keith.

“Hey”, Shiro replied, his voice raspy and thick with emotions.

They talked. They actually talked. At 3:00 am. Not about what happened between them, not about the reason why Keith left, not about Shiro's marriage or divorce. But they talked about small things, like Keith's latest mission or that annoying woman from the canteen who didn't get the message Shiro was into men. But who could blame her? Ever since Curtis Shiro had never tried dating again.

When they finally hung up it was with the promise of meeting up when Keith got back to earth next month. It was almost 5:00 am. Neither him nor Keith had said it out loud, but it hung between them, so thick it was almost palpable.

“I miss you.”

Can't you see I'm in recovery?

Meeting Keith after all this time was like finally, finally putting the shards of his universe back together. Like finally laying their weapons down and calling off the war they had started on that fateful day in the shack.

It was awkward at first... until it wasn't.

One touch, a simple hand on a shoulder kind of touch, was all it took to open the gates to a flood. There were tears. Lots of tears. Tears of joy and sorrow, of forgiveness and apology. Years worth of silence were shattered by a flood of words. Once they started they couldn't stop. Hugging each other and holding on tight, never wanting to let go ever again.

“I'm so sorry”, whispered Keith in between ugly sobs. “I'm so, so sorry. I thought-... I thought-”

“Shhh”, Shiro tried to calm him, tightening his hold on Keith. But the younger man wasn't having it.

“No-... No, you have to hear this.”

He leaned back a little until he could look into Shiro's eyes. His eyes were red and still full of unshed tears.

“I'm sorry I ran”, Keith tried again. This time his voice was steadier. “I didn't know what to do. I thought... After the war you... You deserved better.”

“Better?”, Shiro frowned. “Better than what?”

“Me.”

At that moment it felt like Shiro's heart would burst out of his chest.

Before he could say anything Keith continued: “I... I thought after all you've been through, you deserved a life far away from war and fights and-... I knew I couldn't give you this.”

Another sob rocked Keith's lean body. He'd bulked up a little over the past few years, but he still felt so small and fragile in Shiro's arms.

“I never wanted to hurt you. But... I was afraid... Of hurting myself.”

There was a moment of silence. But a different kind of silence – a pleasant one. Finally, finally Shiro understood.

“You were trying to protect your heart”, he whispered.

Keith's eyes went wide for a second. But he nodded nonetheless. There was nothing left for him to lose. He'd lived five years without Shiro by his side... He'd been through hell already. All because he couldn't just tell Shiro how he felt.

“Well”, the corners of Shiro's mouth turned up into a soft smile. “there's no need to. Never was.”

Again Keith's eyes went wide, his brows rising almost comically high. Slowly, to give him enough time to pull back if that wasn't what he wanted, Shiro leaned down, until their lips were almost touching.

“I never told you this. I never found the right moment... and then you were gone”, with every word their lips brushed against each other. Keith closed his eyes. “Maybe I can tell you now.”

And with that he closed the distance between them.

Kissing Keith was everything he ever imagined it would be... and still so much more. The soft, warm feeling of his lips, the slow drag of his tongue against Shiro's bottom lip were intoxicating. He was done for. He knew that the moment he had to lean back and take a breath. He already missed the warmth of Keith's lips on his.

“I love you.”

The confession left his lips and he couldn't stop. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Tears filled the younger man's eyes again.

“I love you, too.”

For the first time in years it felt like there was a silver lining at the horizon.

They could to this. They could make this right. It had taken them five years, but finally, finally the universe seemed whole again.

The war of silence was finally over.

Song: “Recovery” by LP