#got the grinning giggler behind him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

talesofstyles · 4 years ago

Text

Reconcile

happy christmas eve, you lot! i’ve got a little present for you. enjoy this 10,5k of nearly divorced harry trying to win his wife and bitter nine year old daughter back. oh and i threw in a little baby goat in the mix too since it’s set in the peak district and i just couldn’t resist 🥳

“Penny for your thoughts.”

He turned to look at her, who was giggling as she leaned closer to him. She was most definitely not a giggler sober, but he found out that a copious amount of alcohol could turn her into one. He felt slightly guilty knowing that she was going to be hungover as hell in the morning, but she was having a great time.

And so was he.

“I was just thinking about how great you are, how lucky I am to be sitting next to you right now and that you need to drink more water because otherwise, you’d be miserable tomorrow,” he says with a smile as he twisted the cap and handed her the bottle of water.

That goofy smile of hers turned into a gooey smile of affection. “That’s so sweet,” she murmured, taking a gulp of water and handed the bottle back to him so he could take some too. She then tilted her head, giving him a doe-eyed look and asked, “what else do you like about me?”

“Let’s see,” he put a finger to his chin and tapped. “Well, I love how kind and inclusive you are, how you always care about people and that you always see the good in everyone.”

Her smile grew sappier.

“Oh,” he gave her a sly grin. “I also love that thing you do with your tongue on the underside of my cock.”

She burst out laughing. But then she leaned even closer to him and whispered huskily in his ear, “I’ll do that very thing when we get back to the hotel.”

His eyes widened and he wanted nothing more than just to drag her back to their hotel suite and take up on her offer. But he’d promised her that he’d show her around Vegas since she’d never been before, and he wanted to keep that promise.

“Wanna know what I like about you?” She turned to him, still with a gooey smile on her face.

“Do I ever,” he smirked.

“I like that you’re hands down the kindest human I’ve ever met,” she began. “You’re genuine, and grounded. Funny too. I truly hit the jackpot with you. I’m the luckiest girl on earth.”

“Oh,” she added as an afterthought. “And you’re really good with your tongue.”

He wanted to laugh, because she always made him laugh. But he was still stuck on the fact that she thought she was lucky to be with him. He felt exactly the same way about her, like this was always meant to be.

“I wasn’t looking for this,” he admitted honestly. “I know it’s only been six weeks, but I really can’t imagine never having met you.”

“Me too,” her eyes were bright, shining with excitement. “It’s weird, right? Because I swear I’ve never felt such a deep connection with someone this quick.”

“Do you believe in soulmates?” He murmured. “That there’s a perfect person for everyone out there?”

She tilted her head. “Do you think that’s us?”

There was no hesitation in his answer. “I do think that might be us.”

“I think so too,” she said with a tender smile.

This was real.

He was overwhelmed with the understanding that she was his, and he never wanted to let her go.

So he suggested what any sane, semi-drunk man would at that moment. “We’re in Vegas. We should get married.”

***

Harry

Pulling into the drive of what used to be our holiday cottage, but is now where my wife and children live full-time without me, feels strange to me. There’s that moment of what feels like a homecoming—that sense of belonging somewhere where I feel safe, and I know my happiness is inside.

But now, for the first time in ten years, there’s a sense of detachment that I know I’ve got to put in place. It is why I need to take a moment or two in the car before I walk inside to sort myself out and put on a shield. A shield which lets me walk inside, and be okay with the fact that I don’t live there anymore even just for the holidays.

This charming little cottage, which can’t exactly be called little since it is quite spacious and has three bedrooms, has always been more of a second home rather than a holiday home for us. We used to come here often, sometimes even only for the weekends. I’ve always loved this place. Now, looking back, I realised that many of the happiest times during our marriage were spent in this home.

It was where we spent the first few weeks soaking in newlywed bliss after that whirlwind of a trip to Las Vegas when we decided out of nowhere to tie the knot. Then there were the sleepless nights with a wailing newborn, because even though both of our babies were born in London, we always whisked them off here to Bakewell shortly after so we were close enough that both sets of their grandparents could dote on them during the first few weeks of their lives.

After I exit the car, I walk up to the front door and ring the doorbell. I don’t feel comfortable walking in as I respect that this is YN’s sanctuary now. The wait isn’t long, because in just a few seconds, the door is opened and there’s my wife, looking like a breath of fresh air.

It had been eight long months since the last time I saw her. Last time was the night when she asked me to leave our marital home, and I fled to LA first thing the next morning. I talked daily with the kids on the phone, but I didn’t really recall ever getting the chance to talk to her aside from the quick polite greetings before she handed her phone to the kids.

“Hey,” she says, her expression a bit guarded. I’ve missed her so much that it takes everything in me to keep myself from pulling her into my arms and kiss the fuck out of her. “Come in.”

“You alright?” I ask her as I follow her into the house. This may sound like I’m just making a small talk, but I’m not. I’m genuinely curious and I want to know how she’s doing.

But she doesn’t even respond to my question. All I get is a head-tilt motioning towards the kitchen. “They’re in the kitchen.”

My gaze immediately lands on the accent table that holds a lot of photos and a key bowl. I silently let out a sigh of relief seeing YN hasn’t removed all of the family photos with me in it. It’s a good sign, but I don’t have much hope behind that. Maybe that’s just her trying to keep everything as normal as possible at home for the kids.

My wife and I never had a big fight when we separated. It had been somewhat rational, but still emotional, discussion. She wasn’t angry, she was just done. And I didn’t fight for her. Instead, yours truly here walked away the next morning and didn’t look back.

I’ve done a lot of dumb things in my life. But nothing ever compares to that. That was pretty fucking stupid on my part, and I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.

I’ve accepted that maybe this is my punishment for being a shit husband to a wonderful woman who doesn’t deserve to be treated like a second best. She did the right thing by kicking me to the curb, and I’d never resent her for it. If I could turn back time and change everything, I would in a heartbeat. I’d try harder to be a better husband, a better father, put my family first. But I can’t. Now all I can do is just try not to be a dickhead and make things harder for her than it already is. It’s too late for me to try to be a better husband, but it isn’t for me to try to be the best father that my children deserve.

I follow my wife through the living room and into the kitchen, and I’d be dead not to check out her arse in those leggings. It’s something I quickly avert my eyes from, though, as I realise both of my children are sitting at the kitchen island, eating scones with their tea.

George, my six-year-old, is the first to turn his head and hop off from the island stool to jump into my arms. “Daddeeeeee!”

“My Booger Butt,” I greet my little lad with a smile as I squat down to be on his level before scooping him up into my arms. Booger Butt is one of the countless nicknames I have for him, and one that never fails to make him double over in laughter whenever he hears it. He’s also Mr Tadpole Climbing a Beanpole sometimes, and he used to be Sir Screams-a-Lot when he was a baby. He thinks they’re hilarious, and he’d always respond by calling me Baddy Daddy.

“I‘ve missed you so much, Baddy Daddy,” he says sweetly as he nuzzles his head into the crook of my neck and I swear if I don’t pull myself together right this second, I’m going to cry.

“I’ve missed you more, mate,” I say as I ruffle his hair and kiss his cheek. “I love you.”

My daughter doesn’t seem fazed by the father and son reunion behind her and continues munching on her scone without even giving me a glance. With my left arm full of my son, I walk up to her and ruffle her hair just like I did with her little brother. “Hey Silly Putty Pudding Pie,” I greet her with one of her nicknames, hoping to get her to laugh. But she ignores me, taking a sip of her brew instead.

I don’t want to give up, so I lean to the side and bend to put my face close to hers. I try again, “hello to you too, poppet.”

“Whatever,” she mumbles around a mouthful of scone.

“Minnie,” YN growls, her tone filled with warning.

This is why I respect YN so much. I hurt her badly, broke her heart, and it would’ve been so easy for her to use Minnie as a pawn and turn my child against me. But every time, even on the phone, whenever she is present, she never let Minnie be disrespectful to me in any way.

My gaze moves to my wife—yes I’m still going to refer to her as my wife since she still is, albeit only on paper—and she gives me an apologetic look. I give a slight shake of my head, telling her silently to let it go.

She takes the last bite of her scone and puts the dish in the sink, before walking to the staircase without giving me a second glance. I can see YN trying to hold her tongue from further rebuking our daughter, and I give her a small smile, my silent way of telling her ‘it’s okay.’

“Sorry about that,” she mutters, referring to Minnie’s attitude. She grabs a mug from the cupboard, then holds it up in silent invitation. I nod, and she turns to the pot. “I can’t keep up with her mood shifts anymore.”

“It’s alright,” I tell her, willing to take my share of the blame. “I’m sure the shift has everything to do with me.”

“Not true,” she replies as she pours the coffee into our mugs, adding a splash of milk to hers but keeping mine just like that because she knows I take my coffee black. “She’s been like that with me as well and I’m not sure why. She’s only nine but she acts as if she’s thirteen already.”

I can’t help but laugh and turn to my little lad. “Can you be six forever?”

“No,” he says immediately without even taking a second to think.

“Just no?”

“No,” he gives me a toothy grin. “I want a lego city set but mummy said it’s for eight-year-olds. So I cannot wait to be eight.”

I set him on the counter and give him a conspiratorial smirk before I whisper to him. It’s a little too loud to be considered a whisper, but I want my wife to hear it. “Tell you what, we’ll get one of those sets tomorrow on our day out.”

His eyes light up instantly and my wife rolls her eyes jokingly, “I hear that.” Jokingly, because I know for sure she doesn’t mind me spoiling our children. She does it too.

“Where are you taking them tomorrow?”

“To your mum’s pudding shop for breakfast, then probably fishing, and the toys shop now apparently,” I tell her our itinerary. I have the kids for the whole day tomorrow since it’s Saturday. It’s bittersweet because I’ve missed my children and I can’t wait to spend time with them, but I’m also sad because what I wouldn’t give to turn tomorrow into a family day out instead. I know she would most likely decline, but I can’t help offer her, “would you like to come with us?”

She gives me a subtle shake of her head. “No thanks. Enjoy it, it’s your time with them.”

***

I’m renting a room above The Old Nags Head during my stay here. I plan to stay for a week before I have to go back to London, and even though the thought of having to leave my children again is killing me, I’m trying to cheer myself up by reminding myself that it’ll be Christmas soon enough and I’ll get to visit again.

But then I’ll have to leave again.

And visit again, but knowing in just a week or two, I would have to say goodbye to them again.

Fuck, this is killing me. I’m a family man through and through, and not being with them physically hurts. I shouldn’t be in this room sulking alone. I should be there in that home with my wife and children, probably helping Minnie and George with their homework or making dinner for all of us.

I was prepared to sulk some more, but then I heard a knock on the door. I was not expecting company so I’ve got no idea who it is, and I’m quite surprised when I see Jamie, YN’s brother as I open the door.

We were quite close, but now that I broke his little sister’s heart, I can’t tell if this is a pleasant visit or if he’s just here to knock me square on my arse.

“Got time for tea downstairs?” He asks

Honestly, I haven’t got any appetite. But I could use a few pints so I nod and lock the door behind me, following him downstairs to the pub.

The Old Nags Head is the oldest and most famous pub in Bakewell. The pub itself is a former smithy dating back to the 16th century, and certainly looks the part; thick stone walls, low ceilings, welcoming log fires and dark timber beams. The pub remains at the centre of the community, as it has been for hundreds of years. It offers the best classic pub grubs, and even has its own ale called the Nags 1577.

It’s the perfect place to drown my sorrows.

Except, the current owner of that very pub happens to be none other than my wife’s granddad whom everyone here calls Pop. Out of all members of her family, she is the closest to Pop, so I know for sure that I’m the last person he wants to see.

We sit at the bar table facing the window, which is good because Pop is behind the main bar, and this way I don’t have to actually talk to him.

“Ya want owt?” Jamie asks as he does a quick perusal of the menu. I’m not even sure why he bothers, because even I know what he’s going to order. It’s Pop’s signature steak and ale pie. Ten years of being his brother in law, not once I ever saw him order something else.

“Just a pint,” I tell him.

It doesn’t take long after Jamie orders his food and our drinks before two pints are placed before us, and we each take a savouring sip.

And then Jamie point-blank asks me, “so what did you do?”

I really can’t tell anything from his expression, because he keeps his face blank. But I give him a bark of mirthless laughter. “It’s what I didn’t do, mate. She didn’t say anything?”

“Not a word,” he shakes his head, “what didn’t you do?”

“I stopped paying attention to my wife. Got caught up in my career. The travelling for tours she understood, but it was when I was home and hanging out more with my bandmates than with my family that she couldn’t forgive. And what little time I had left, I gave to Minnie and George. I think I just stupidly assumed she would always be there for me, no matter what.”

“Was there any infidelity?” He asks.

“God, no,” I shake my head hard. “You know I’d never do that to your sister. I love her, and she’s more than enough for me.”

Obviously, I’m not going to tell him this, but ironically, our sex life didn’t diminish. We were combustible in bed, and my mistake was in thinking that was enough for her.

I look at the pudding shop right across the street as I take another sip, and I nearly choke on my beer when I see a familiar face walking out of the shop.

“What in the ever-loving fuck?” I growl.

That’s my wife, walking out of her mum’s pudding shop. She is not alone. There’s a guy with his hand pressed to her lower back while her head is tipped back, laughing at something he’s saying. I suddenly feel sick to my stomach when the bastard’s palm drops from my wife’s back to take her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. She smiles, all doe-eyed, as they walk to God knows where.

“What?” Jamie looks at me confused for a second, but then he follows my gaze and he finally sees what’s causing me distress. “Oh, that.”

“You knew about that?”

He nods. “She’s been seeing him for about three weeks now.”

“Fuck,” I mutter and pinch the bridge of my nose.

“She didn’t tell you?” Jamie asks and I shake my head.

“Three weeks you said?”

Jamie nods again. “He makes her happy.”

“I’m her husband,” I can’t help but say bitterly. “I should be the one making her happy.”

“Look, I’m sorry mate,” he offers, I know he’s trying his best to keep his tone neutral. “Maybe you need to get back in the dating game too. It’ll distract you.”

“I don’t want to fucking date anyone else,” I growl.

“I know it’s hard to get back in the saddle,” he adds sympathetically.

“I don’t want to get out of my current saddle,” I grumble. “I want to keep my current saddle with my wife in it.”

Jamie blinks in surprise, hell I’m even surprised at what I’ve just said out loud because I’ve never admitted this since we split. When YN asked me to leave, I assumed right away that my marriage was over. I didn’t want it to, but I thought there was nothing I could do.

But now, seeing her laughing at another man’s joke and his hand holding hers, I just know that I can’t let her go without a fight.

“Have you told her this?” He asks curiously.

I shake my head again. “We haven’t got the chance to have a civil conversation these days.”

“Then I suggest you stop being such a bloody whinge bucket and have a civil conversation with your wife.”

My shoulders immediately sag in defeat. “I know. I need to sit down with her and tell her how I feel.”

“Which is?” He presses.

“That I want her back,” I mutter.

“You’ve got to have a better plan than that,” he points out. “I mean… I’m not a marriage therapist, but I’m pretty sure that you’ve got to be prepared to fix the shit first.”

I can’t help but tilt my head towards the pudding shop where my wife had just walked out the door. “She’s moved on. You said it yourself that he makes her happy. Tell me how to compete with that.”

“Make her happier,” he says simply. I can only let out a heavy sigh, but I know that's solid advice. “Listen, if you really want to save your marriage, you need to make it work. Romance her again. Lots of flowers, nice romantic dinners out. Compliments, chocolates. All that sort of thing.”

“You think that’ll work?”

“I don’t know,” he answers truthfully. “But I do know that you’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t do anything about it.”

***

My emotions are a mixed bag this morning. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to spend the whole day with my kids, but the fact that I have just learnt last night that my wife is currently seeing another man doesn’t sit right with me.

I know Jamie was right. If I want to save my marriage, I need to get my head out of my arse and do something to win my wife back. Sure, I don’t even know where to start since she doesn’t give me the time of day. But I do know that starting today, I’m a man on a mission. It’s Operation Conquer YN: day 1.

It’s currently 8:40am, which means I’m twenty minutes early. I hope the kids won’t be ready yet, so I’ll get a chance to talk for a little bit to my wife.

When I ring the doorbell, I can hear George pounding down the stairs, yelling, “I got it!”

The door flies open and he jumps into my arms right away. My little lad truly misses me, and it really does warm my heart. Now, I love my children equally, but before I got here yesterday, I thought Minnie would be the one to jump all over me since she’s a daddy’s girl through and through, while George has always been a mummy’s boy since the day he was born.

But again, I should’ve known. Since YN and I split, Minnie sort of puts herself in her mum’s corner. Every time I actually got the chance to talk to her on the phone when I was still in LA, it was always extremely short before she quickly handed her mum’s phone to her little brother. I try not to take her behaviour to heart, because I guess it’s what nine-year-olds do when they don’t quite understand why their parents aren’t together. They just need someone to blame, and my daughter is way more mature than her age. She’s bloody smart too, which she definitely takes after her mum, and I know that she knows it’s my fault that her mum and I separated.

Now that I think of it, it’s not just my wife that I desperately need to win back. But also my daughter.

“Daddy!” George chirps. He’s got a milk moustache and the sight never fails to get me to chuckle. “You’re early.”

“I know,” I reply with a tender smile. “I just can’t wait to spend the day with you lot.”

“I’m going to get ready!” He announces excitedly as he squirms in my arms wanting to be put down, and he runs up the stairs before I can even reply.

I look around, and my gaze lands on the sofa, a hazel leather sofa that YN picked out. It’s so comfy and I could nap there forever.

Then there’s the coffee table, where YN, Minnie, George and I sat around and played board games. Catan is our family’s favourite, followed closely by Monopoly.

The corner where we always put the Christmas tree, right next to the fireplace. And every year it didn’t matter how hard I tried, I could never get the bloody thing to stay straight.

I miss this little cottage. Sure, the house in South Kensington is our marital house, but this cosy little cottage in the middle of nowhere feels more like home to me. And now I truly get why YN was so adamant to move here permanently after we separated, didn't matter how hard I tried to persuade her to stay in London.

“You’re early,” my wife blinks in surprise, but quickly masks it. “Minnie darling, go and get ready.”

“Do I really have to go?” My nine-year-old whines and I feel a pang. She really doesn’t want to spend time with me.

“Minnie, that’s not nice,” YN reprimands her before I can stop her.

“I’ve missed you, poppet,” I say, wanting to look at her in the eyes but she refuses to meet my gaze. Which hurts, but it’s fine. I know it’ll take some time for her to warm up to me. “I want to spend the day with you and your brother. I promise I’ll try to make it fun for you both.”

“Fine,” she replies, before marching up the stairs to her room. There’s still a hint of sulkiness in her tone, but at least I didn’t get a heavy sigh. I know it’s a small win but honestly, it’s better than none.

“Coffee’s in the pot,” she tells me politely from where she’s sitting at the island. She has her laptop open before her, and I can see her writing an email. I bet she’s working today, even if it’s Saturday, because my wife is such a hard-worker. She works remotely for a consulting firm and I’m beyond proud of her.

I nod and pour the coffee, and I let the silence carry on for a bit before saying, “saw you getting cosy with your new boyfriend last night.”

She instantly looks up from her laptop, giving me a death glare. Her tone is defensive when she says, “that’s none of your business.”

“You could’ve at least told me that you were seeing someone,” I tell her, making elaborate gestures with my coffee mug.

“Why would I do that?” She retorts defensively. “Last time I checked, you didn’t give a shit about me when we were married. Why on earth would I assume you do now?”

Hearing that, it feels like Chuck Norris himself just kicked me in the nuts. I can only mutter, “we’re still married.”

“Not for long,” she replies faintly.

“Don’t say that,” I say, my breath a little jagged. “We can still fix this, darling. I know we can.”

“Are you mad?” She snaps, but then she takes a deep breath, and her tone is a lot calmer when she adds, “Harry, it’s too late.”

“No, it’s not. It’s never too late to get our marriage back on track,” I plead desperately. “Would you at least give me a shot?”

“What do you mean?” She frowns.

“You can continue to see Mr Wife-stealer-”

“He’s not a wife-stealer,” she snaps, cutting me off. “He’s got a name.”

“Well, he’s stealing my wife,” I grumble like a stroppy child.

“You’re being such a child,” she retorts. “His name is Luke, he’s a decent guy, and he makes me happy.”

“I’m not afraid to go head to head with him,” I say defiantly.

“Fuck’s sake, Harry, we’re not on a bloody Love Island,” she says in exasperation. “Two children are involved here, this isn’t a game.”

“I know it isn’t,” I reply with a sigh. “Just please give me another shot, darling. Let me remind you how great we were together.”

“You mean the sex?” She demands, one side of her upper lip curls in a sneer.

I bend my head and murmur, “we were dynamite in the sack, weren’t we?”

I see the flash in her eyes as she remembers, and it makes me want to beat my chest in victory. But the euphoric feeling is short-lived when she says, “a relationship is so much more than just sex. If you don’t understand it then-”

“I do, fuck, I do know that,” I cut her off in a strangled, desperate voice. “At least let me try, darling. Fuck if I’m letting you go without a fight.”

We lapse into silence as she gives me a sceptical look, and I know in this moment that my biggest challenge is to regain her trust, as well as accepting the fact that she has someone else fighting for her attention.

I know this will be tough, because I let her down over and over again. And worse, I let my children down too, because I was never quite able to make my family my highest priority. It was all my fault, I knew it then, still do now. That’s why when she asked me to leave, I couldn’t even argue. I was a shit husband and father, and I deserved that.

Trying to win Minnie is probably going to be the easiest because beneath this ‘tweenage’ attitude going on, I know she is a sweet girl who loves her daddy. I need to devote more attention to her, maybe take her on some daddy-daughter dates. I know it’ll work because I’ve never given her enough on a consistent basis.

YN is going to be the most difficult, because I really broke her heart. I’ve been married to her for ten years, so I can say with confidence that I know for sure she would never fall for things like flowers or gifts. I have to show her that I genuinely want to fix our marriage, and that my interest in her is real. It’ll be like starting all over again.

And on top of that, she’s seeing someone else and she said it herself that he does make her happy. I know she’s not lying about it, as Jamie also told me the same thing last night and I saw with my own eyes how she laughed with him last night. Seeing that killed me, because I don’t have the ability to make her laugh like that anymore, but I couldn’t deny that there was a small part of me that was happy for her.

She may have sneered when I insinuated I’d be glad to remind her of the good times, but I saw it in her eyes. There was still a slight burn, and that might just have to be my angle.

But then I remember our last time together. It was only two days before she asked me to leave and I remember coming home mid-morning after a meeting with my manager and publicist to find her lying in our bed, clad in sexy lingerie. I had my mouth on every inch of her, a good deal of time between her legs, and after she reciprocated by taking me into her mouth.

The kids were in school, and apparently, she took a sick day because I had told her the night before that I only had one meeting in the morning that day. After, she cuddled in close, and we talked for a while. She seemed happy, but then there was a hint of hesitation in her voice when she suggested, “fancy just spending all day in bed until school pick-ups?”

I mean, what man in his right mind would say no to that? The kids were gone for at least another five hours, I had a gorgeous wife naked and wanting more of what we just did…

Yet, I’d said no. “Sorry, doll. I’m meeting the lads at the studio in about an hour.”

I didn’t see it then, but I do now and it’s clear as day. The look on her face had been blank, and there wasn’t even disappointment like she would usually show me. She hadn’t tried to get me to change my mind. There hadn’t been a guilt-laden frown to give me pause.

I realise now what it was.

It was the moment my wife finally gave up on me.

My chest constricts as it finally dawns on me the pain she must have been feeling. I’m not just talking about that day. That had been our life for several years.

No wonder she asked me to leave.

No wonder she’s moving on with Mr Wife-stealer.

No wonder that, at this moment, I realise I’ve got tons of work to do because sex isn’t going to be the answer in winning my wife back.

***

“Will the baby just eat when you give it the bottle?” Minnie asks her uncle Jamie as the four of us gaze at the baby goat in front of us. For the first time since yesterday, I actually see the slight curve up of lips that form a fond smile. Seeing that smile on my daughter’s face, I’m glad we didn’t go fishing and end up going to the barn instead. We were actually already on our way, but Jamie texted me that the mother goat had given birth this morning, and he wanted me to tell Minnie and George. The goats are a new addition to the farm, so they have been so excited to see baby goats. I knew from the look in their eyes that they would have a much better time seeing baby goats rather than fishing.

It turns out that there’s only one baby goat, because the other one sadly didn’t make it. And the dam isn’t producing milk, so the kid needs to be bottle-fed until the mother is producing again. I can’t help but smile fondly at the baby goat too because it’s adorable. It’s a soft little white goat with a pink nose and ears. The dam is a Pygmy but since it has blue eyes, Jamie thinks she must have Nigerian Dwarf genes somewhere in her.

“It’s a female… a doeling,” Jamie tells her. “And she will if she’s hungry. You want to try to feed her? Look, she’s hungry again.”

We watch for a moment as the baby goat walks on wobbly legs, bleating in hunger. Jamie mixes the powdered formula and makes a bottle for her, then he hands the bottle to Minnie.

But Minnie shakes her head. “Maybe next time. I want to see you do it first.”

“Alright then,” Jamie nods, then turns towards my little lad. “How about you, mate? Wanna feed her?”

“No thank you,” says George as he shakes his head, and then he giggles, “she smells funny.”

“Can I do it?” I ask and Jamie nods as he hands me the bottle.

I sit down against the wall with my children sitting on either side of me. And as if the goat can sense that I hold the key to filling her empty belly, the doeling starts to prance in excitement and falls over a few times due to what I assume is clumsiness. I love that she can walk normally but still choose chaos—honestly, she could’ve been my third child. There’s no stopping the surge of fondness that swells within me as I watch her little antics.

“Come here little crumpet,” I coo at the goat.

The little goat scrambles right onto my lap, bleating hungrily. I wrap my arm around her and tip the bottle. She latches on instantly, and Minnie and George are aww-ing and ooh-ing over the way the baby goat’s little tail swishes back and forth so fast in ecstatic happiness as she drinks her milk.

“You’re a hungry little thing, aren’t you?” Minnie murmurs and the little tail swishes faster as she pushes at the bottle to suck the milk down faster. “What’s her name, uncle Jamie?”

“I haven’t named her yet,” Jamie says. “What do you lot think we should call her?”

“Blue,” George suggests instantly, without looking away from the baby goat on my lap.

“Ooh, I like it,” Minnie adds. “Like her eyes.”

“Blue it is, then,” Jamie grins. “Now, even though the dam is still not producing milk, we still need to train her to at least try to nurse, so she’ll do it right away when the dam is finally producing milk. Let’s see if we can get her to try to eat from the dam.”

He plucks the baby from my arms, and a series of yearning bleats come from the kid as he carries her to her mother. He places her near the dam’s udders and gives the baby a gentle push.

Much to our surprise, Blue spins away from Jamie and her mother and runs back to me. Although in all fairness, I am holding the bottle she was just drinking from. Jamie attempts three more times to get the baby to try to nurse from her mother, but she’s having none of it.

Finally, he takes the bottle from me and walks across to the opposite wall. He sits down, holds the bottle out, and calls to the doeling. “Come here, baby. Come eat.”

Blue’s tail gives a few nervous twitches, but she doesn’t move towards Jamie. In fact, she takes a few hesitant steps backwards until she bumps into my legs. I’m amazed as I watch her stare hungrily at the bottle, bleating hungrily, but refusing to go to Jamie.

“Daddy, she thinks you’re her mummy,” says George and both my children burst in laughter.

“What?” I say in astonishment.

“I don’t think that doeling is going to feed from anyone but you,” Jamie adds with a chuckle as he stands up. He walks over and hands me the bottle. Blue jumps directly into my lap.

On autopilot, I offer the goat the nipple but look up to Jamie in panic. “What should we do?”

“Dunno, I’ll just try and do it when she’s hungry again in a few hours,” he shrugs. “But if she still doesn’t wanna eat, I’ll bring her to you.”

Any last vestiges of humour, happiness and downright giddiness over the cuteness of a baby goat fades as I realise I might or might not have just added another task to my list. Heavens help me.

***

“Let’s have a daddy and daughter date tomorrow.”

It’s a solid suggestion, and I really hope she’d say yes. Her little brother has his classmate’s birthday party to go to, so I know it’d be perfect for a little one-on-one time.

We’re on our way back home after spending a whole day together. It was great, and even though I didn’t have happy-go-lucky Minnie, George had a great time, and it was enough for me. And at least she didn’t ask to go home early, so I’d call that a win.

“No, thanks,” she replies. There’s still not a hint of sulkiness in her tone, but it doesn’t sound technically warm either.

I glance over through the rear-view mirror as she stares out the window with her arms folded. Her brother is sleeping next to her, and I figured this might be a good time to talk since she’s trapped in the car with me.

Everyone always says that Minnie is a mini-me, while George is a carbon-copy of his mum. Minnie has my nose, eyebrows, chin, even my smile; which is slightly lopsided and has a dimple on one side. I know I’m biased, but she truly is the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever seen.

Where Minnie shines, though, is her personality, which is a combination of her mum and me. She has her mum’s sunny disposition—aside from the days where she’s got a bag on—and always sees the good in everyone. She’s our little ray of sunshine, tender and caring and always trying to make others feel good.

From me, she gets her stubbornness, which even though I know is a good trait to have when she’s older, it made things so much harder when she was a toddler. She also has my terrible sense of humour, but the thing I’m most proud of is her work ethic. I can’t take full credit for that though, because her mother is a hard worker as well.

Ever since she started distancing herself from me, I know which subjects are safe, and which are not. School always falls in the safe category, because she enjoys it and excels. So I figure now that’s where I should start. “How’s school going?”

“Alright,” she replies, still looking out the window.

Now, this really doesn’t sound at all like my daughter.

“Come on, Min,” I say desperately. “Tell daddy what’s been eating you. I can’t help if I don’t know what it is.”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” she says absently.

“Do you want to go and get some ice cream with me tomorrow?” That was our thing at least once every two weeks and she loved it.

“No, thank you.”

“Ice skating?”

“No, thank you.”

“Oh I know,” I say excitedly. “I’ve got a show in London in a couple of weeks, Jingle Ball. Do you want to come with me?”

Minnie has always been my biggest fan, clapping the hardest and yelling the loudest for her daddy. So it really takes me by surprise when she mutters, “shows, shows, shows… that’s all you care about, dad.”

I twist to peer out my window so she doesn’t see the wince that comes unbidden to my face if she looks through the mirror. That was a direct slam against me.

That really does hurt, and I rub at the throb of pain behind my breastbone.

“That’s not true,” I reply faintly.

“Did you care about my last ballet recital?”

Early this year, Minnie had a ballet recital. She was so excited about it because I had just finished my tour in December last year, and I’d already told my management that I would like a couple of months off. There was no reason for me not to attend, so I promised her I’d be there.

Except at the last moment, I realised I had forgot to switch an important meeting I had with the team from the new Manchester Arena. Since I invested in it, we had a meeting every few months because I said right from the beginning that I would take more than just a capital interest. I wanted to be involved in the development, because that was a huge project and I was really proud of it.

YN was in charge of our schedule and when she reminded me about the recital, which conflicted directly with my meeting, we ended up getting in the worst row we’ve ever had throughout our marriage.

“You’re going to let our daughter down in a way she won’t forgive,” she stated.

I refused to believe that, brushing off her comment with “I’ll take her out for something special later.” But my wife turned and stalked away from me.

That day, the meeting went great and the construction was almost done a few weeks earlier than intended, so there was an option if we wanted to open sooner. YN sent me a text with a video of Minnie’s performance, and it was beautiful. I was such a proud dad that I showed the video to everyone in that room.

When I got home, my wife and children cuddled on the sofa, watching a film. George was snoozing with his head on his mum’s lap on the far end, so I plopped myself down beside Minnie. I tugged on her hair playfully, and asked if she wanted to go out to a special daddy-daughter dinner to celebrate her recital.

“No, thank you,” she replied quietly, not taking her eyes off the telly.

“Come on, poppet,” I coaxed, trying to tickle her in the ribs a little. She only squirmed closer to her mum, not laughing from the tickle but grimacing like she didn’t want to be touched.

YN stared over Minnie with sorrow in her eyes. She gave a tiny shake of her head, but I wasn’t ready to give up.

“The Ivy?” I tried to tempt her because my kid loves chips, and she’s obsessed with their truffle and parmesan chips.

“No, thank you,” she muttered again, her head resting on her mum’s shoulder and her arm crossed over her middle. YN cuddled her with an arm around her shoulder. It had been clear that they were a unit, and I hadn’t been included.

“Minnie decided she wants to stop ballet lessons, so that was her last recital.”

“Oh,” I’d replied dumbly.

I couldn’t think of another damn thing to say because to do so would be disingenuous. There’s no doubt I killed my daughter’s potential love of ballet by not coming to her recital. I knew that because of YN’s expression of disappointment and Minnie’s dull dismissal.

Later that night, I walked by Minnie’s room and glanced in as the door was slightly open. I had bought her a bouquet of flowers that I gave her before I left for my meeting, and I saw that they’d been stuffed into the bin beside her desk.

I blink out of that memory, feeling the heavy weight of guilt. “Of course I did, my love. If I knew-”

“But not enough to come,” she replies dully. “And what about my debate competition? George’s piano recital? You showed up to none of them.”

I sigh heavily. “Minnie, a lot of parents have demanding jobs where they’re required to work or travel more than others. Sometimes A&E doctors have to work on Christmas and cannot see their children open the presents. Sometimes, a firefighter has to leave their house at night and can’t tuck their kids in bed.”

“I understand that,” she whirls and looks at me through the rear-view mirror. “Except you’re not saving lives or fighting fires, are you? You just get up on a stage and sing.”

“I’m a terrible dad, aren’t I?” I concede. “I know I’ve done things wrong in the past, but I’m trying to make it up to you, poppet. But I can’t do it if you won’t let me.”

She doesn’t say anything and it’s killing me. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know,” she rushes to assure me and I feel a little lighter. My daughter may act like a tween and have some bitter feelings towards me, but she loves me.

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” I continue. “Tell me how to make it up to you and I’ll do it. I want things to be good between us again.”

Her eyes flare with shock, and then they dart away as if she’s considering something. I wait expectantly. Maybe she’s going to finally open up and pour out her feelings for me. I’m ready for it.

I’m ready to listen, and validate, and reassure her that she, along with her mum and brother, are the loves of my life.

Her gaze comes back to me, her expression serious, and I brace.

“Can we get a puppy?”

What?

There’s no stopping the unlocking of my jaw and the dropping of my mouth because this was the last thing I expected her to say.

I’m so caught off guard that I can’t even think to immediately tell her ‘no’, which gives her time to launch into all the reasons why we should have a dog.

“Minnie, puppies are a lot of work. You’ve got to potty train them, teach them manners, and they get up for hours at night.”

“I promise I’ll do all that,” she exclaims.

“Like how you were supposed to take care of Fishy?” I can’t help but remind her. Fishy was her goldfish that we had to throw a funeral for a few years ago because she forgot to feed him. That poor sod died of hunger.

Minnie rolls her eyes. “I was six.”

She’s got a point.

Still, it’s obvious part of her request is manipulation because she threw it at me when I opened myself up to vulnerability. She knows I’m trying, and she’s throwing me a clear bone.

Get her a puppy, and all will be forgiven.

“Tell you what,” I look over my shoulder after I parked the car since we’ve reached home. “I promise to think about it, and I’ll talk to mummy.”

“Really?” She bounces in her seat in excitement.

“We’ll talk about it,” I reiterate in a calm, even voice. But there’s no stopping her excitement. The fact that I’m willing to consider is a huge victory for her because she knows that when I make my mind up about something, I never change it.

I open the door for her, and she is quick to unbuckle herself and throws herself at me.

I’m so surprised at the spontaneous act of affection that I almost don’t hug her back. It’s been so long since she’s shown this to me, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

I squeeze her tight, and I can only hope that my darling girl will always love her daddy the way she does right now.

George doesn’t even stir as I pick him up, and I tuck him in his bed straight away since I don’t want to wake him up. He must be tired, and good thing I’ve fed them both dinner.

Minnie even gives me another hug before she gets ready for bed, and that results in me having a permanent smile on my face even as I walk down the stairs and into the kitchen to see my wife.

“She’s chirpy,” YN comments when she sees me walking into the kitchen. “What did you do?”

“Got her to talk to me,” I smirk.

She looks surprised, and well, I can’t blame her. “Did she?”

“She did,” I nod. “Pointed out all my flaws, and when I asked her how I could make it up to her, she asked for a puppy.”

“What?”

“Exactly my reaction,” I chuckle.

“Boy, if she’s this good at emotional blackmailing at nine, we’d probably be in deep shit in a couple of years,” she jokes and I can’t help but laugh.

I’ve missed this.

“Will you go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

“I can’t.”

“What? Got a hot date already?” I ask teasingly, but her silence tells me what I don’t want to know. “Oh, you’re going out with him.”

“Mr Wife- I mean Luke asked me out first and I already said yes.”

I shouldn’t be laughing because the fact that my wife going on a date with another man is not funny at all, but it’s hard to hide my smirk when she almost calls him by the nickname I’ve given him, Mr Wife-stealer.

“Well, fair enough. He asked you first,” I say nonchalantly. “What does he do?”

“He’s an A&E doctor at the Northern General,” she says, her tone lightens a little.

“Smart then isn’t he,” I mutter.

“Yes. He’s smart, attentive, caring and generous with his time.”

I keep my expression and tone bland, but she landed a direct blow there and it fucking hurts. “All the things I’m not,” I state, voicing the conclusion she was aiming at.

“Well,” she drawls with a tiny bit of sympathy. “I do think you’re smart.”

I give her a side eye-roll before I decide to be downright nosy and ask, “you can’t have been on many dates then?”

“True,” she chirps, a gleam in her eye as she sticks the knife in. “He is busy and his schedules are unpredictable. But when he’s gone, he makes sure I know I’m always on his mind. He sends me flowers for absolutely no reason other than because he wants to, calls me every day and we text all the time.”

Well, sodding fucking bollocking shit wank. I didn’t think YN would fall for that crap. And I realise… I never thought to do that stuff for her. I was the self-absorbed type of person who figured that my wife knew I thought about her all the time when I was away. I mean we were married, so I just assumed she knew.

I’m a shit head.

“What else does he do for you?” I ask and she blinks in surprise.

“Why?” She asks suspiciously.

“I told you I want our marriage to work.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, trying to read my tone and see whether I’m being genuine or it’s just bollocks. Finally, she replies primly, “I’m not giving away his secrets.”

What the fuck does that mean? Have they shagged? I would bet a million pounds they had not though, because I know YN and she wouldn’t enter into that deep of a relationship lightly.

Without even thinking twice, I make a sudden step into her. My arm goes around her waist and I pull her body into me. Not a single inch of space between us. Her mouth opens in a gasp of surprise, and I use the opportunity to kiss her.

I kiss the fuck out of my wife.

Her hands slap against my upper arms, and her fingers dig into my sleeves. Even as she’s pushing me away, her mouth opens, and her tongue touches mine briefly.

When I pull back, I ask, “did he kiss you like this?”

She shakes her head, breathlessly admitting, “we haven’t-”

My jaw drops. “Are you joking?”

“I’m not,” she murmurs.

“How long exactly have you been seeing him?”

“About four weeks.”

“Honey, he’s rooting for the other team,” I tell her and she slaps my arm.

“Sod off, he’s not,” she counters.

“Four weeks with the hottest, most gorgeous, shaggable woman and he hasn’t tried to kiss you? I mean not that I’m not grateful because, fuck, I am. But wow.”

“Of course he did try,” she rolls her eyes. “But I’m not ready for that, and he’s okay with us taking it slow.”

For a second I don’t say anything in response. Instead, I loosen my hold, bringing my hand to her lower back, and cupping her intimately from behind. Moaning, she leans into me. “I’m guessing he hasn’t touched you like this then.”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she lets her eyelids flutter closed as her teeth bite into her lower lip.

Fuck. I could drag her to the floor right now, and we could go at it.

But then she comes to her senses, blinking rapidly, and I release her immediately when she gives me a tiny shove backwards.

“You’re not playing fair,” she accuses.

Damn right I’m not. I grab her upper arms, pull her back into me for one last kiss before I let her go just as quickly. “I’m playing to win.”

She takes a step back, brushes a wisp of hair from her temple, and puts on a cool expression. “That’s not going to make me take you back.”

I smirk.

She waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re great with your hands and your mouth, but a lot of men know how to please a woman.”

She’s got a bonus point for trying to make me jealous, but I’m not falling for it. Instead, I give her a devilish smile and dip my head towards her.

“That’s true, but no one will ever please you the way I can.”

I’m enjoying our banter, and I expect her to come up with a snappy retort that might make me kiss her again.

Instead, her expression is sad when she says, “I wish I could be happy with that.”

My heart squeezes, and I lift a hand to palm the side of her neck. I wait until she meets my gaze. “We’re more than just sex, darling. I know you need and deserve more. I’m ready to prove that to you.”

I lean in, pressing my lips to her forehead.

She doesn’t respond as I pivot and head through the living room, letting myself out the door.

All in all, I think that went very well.

***

I’m back at my wife’s cottage, waiting for my kids as they get ready upstairs. Minnie has finally agreed to go on a daddy-daughter date and George is going to an overnight sleepover birthday party, and I’ll drop him off at his classmate’s house before I take his sister out to dinner. I’ll make sure to make it up to him by taking him on a special one on one date too next week.

There’s a light rap on the door, and my head swings that way. I have no doubt that it’s Mr Wife-stealer who’s going to take my wife out on a date.

I glance towards the master suite, but the door is closed. YN is probably putting on the finishing touches of her makeup. And the kids are still upstairs.

Nothing left to do but let him in.

Forcing a smile, I open the front door. He blinks in surprise to see me standing there, and I know I’ve got two options here; I could either easily dispel the awkwardness by being cool, welcoming and explaining our schedules happened to overlap.

Or… I could use whatever amount of alone time I have with him to instill some doubt inside his head.

That would be a dirty play, but as I have told my wife, I play to win.

Broadening my smile, I stick my hand out. “You must be Luke. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Harry.”

He seems momentarily frozen, but then basic manners take over. When he shakes my hand, it’s a bit limp, perhaps denoting a lack of confidence. After I release him, I bid him entrance with a sweep of my hand. “YN is in the bedroom. She’s still getting ready.”

Luke frowns over the fact that I know YN is in the bedroom. Probably over me even being here to talk to him. But I don’t dispel any innuendo he might glean from that.

I loop an arm around his shoulders, clamp down, and start guiding him to the kitchen. “Come on in and sit for a bit while she’s finishing up. Want a beer?”

Luke moves to one of the island stools, looking completely frazzled. “Uh… no, thank you.”

I shrug, moving to the fridge and opening it. Grabbing a bottle, I say with a sly grin as I close it. “So glad YN still stocks my favourite beer.”

I am so going to hell.

But that’s the truth. It’s my wife’s favourite beer, too, but I don't tell him that. Instead, I let the implication that I come over and have beers often. Luke’s frown deepens.

“YN tells me you work at the Northern General?” I take a sip of my beer, then lean my forearms on the island directly across from him so we’re eye level.

“Yeah… uh, that’s right.” Poor Luke. He seems incapable of carrying on a polite conversation with the husband of the woman he’s dating.

But I’m going to give him a pass. Setting my beer down, I straighten. “Let me go tell YN you’re here.”

“Um… you don’t have-” he starts to say, but I move past him without a backward glance. Through the living room, down the small hall, and a hard left takes me to the master suite. The door’s closed. I don’t bother knocking because I know YN is dressed.

I find her in the ensuite, her makeup drawer open and she’s huddled over it, touching something inside.

“Your date’s here,” I announce.

She lets out a yip of fright, shoving whatever it was in her hand to the back and slamming the drawer closed.

“Damn it, Harry,” she snaps, her palm pressed against her heart. “You scared the hell out of me. And what are you doing in my room?”

“Just running an errand for you. Wanted to let you know your date is here,” I say casually and I give her a mischievous grin. “Don’t worry, I welcomed him in, offered him a drink, and made small talk.”

She rolls her eyes, rising from her vanity chair and moves past me without another word. I start to follow, but then I hesitate and turn back to the drawer of her vanity. Quietly, I pull it open as far as it will go, spotting a picture of YN and me stuffed in the back.

I recognise it. It’s from a trip we took to Anguilla a few years back, just the two of us, and fuck if we didn’t look happy and deeply in love.

Was that what she was looking at when I walked in?

That could be good or bad, but either way, no way to know the answer. I shut the drawer, then catch up to her as she’s moving through the living room. Luke sees her, sliding off the stool. When she holds out her hands, he takes them and leans in to kiss her on the cheek.

Lame.

I sit on the armrest of the sofa, watching. Luke glances over YN’s shoulder at me as he pulls back, smiling victoriously.

I just smirk back. Because he’d probably lose it if he knew the type of kiss I gave my wife just last night. But I’ll keep that information to myself, though.

YN grabs her handbag off the accent table near the staircase before addressing me. “Make sure Minnie locks up when you leave, and remind George I’ll pick him up at ten tomorrow morning.”

I give her a jaunty salute. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

In return, I get another eye roll.

Luke puts his hand on my wife’s back, shooting me a look that says, ‘she’s mine tonight’, and I want to punch his teeth down the back of his throat. I just smile blandly, because, in just a few minutes of talking to him and watching how they interact, I can tell he’s getting nothing more than a friendly kiss when he brings her home.

YN might want to keep pushing at that relationship, but I am willing to bet that it’s not going to go anywhere. I know this, because I’m sure that my wife is still in love with me.

Read part II here!

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles ff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #boyfriend!harry #husband!harry #dad!harry #dad harry styles #dad harry imagines #dad harry styles imagines

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marauderundercover · 3 years ago

Text

Taking Chances Ch. 11: Blast from the Past (Siblings)

AO3

Swinging side by side with her father was an amazing experience. Marinette tried hard to stifle her laughter, figuring Batman wouldn’t appreciate it if word got around that the newest vigilante was a giggler. He swings to the next roof and pauses, Marinette frowning as he listens to something on his comm.

“Alright. All hands on deck. Robin, you’ll stay on the roof with Ladybird.” He instructs, Marinette frowns. Was he really sticking her younger brother on babysitting duty? And why couldn’t she go wherever it is he’s going?

“What’s happening?” She asks, crossing her arms.

“There are several crates of weapons and a few dozen armed men in a warehouse a mile out from here. You and Robin are going to stay on the roof to make sure no one leaves before the police arrive.” He instructs before turning and grappling away. Marinette frowns, but follows behind him. Does he really not think that she can handle herself? And she knows this is going to cause problems with Damian. He already doesn’t like her and now he has to stay with her. She watches as he swoops down into the warehouse and she lands silently on the roof.

“I do not appreciate this.” Robin says, stepping out of the shadows with crossed arms. Although she can’t see his eyes behind his mask, Marinette knows he’s glaring at her. She just rolls her eyes.

“I don’t either. I don’t need someone watching me 24/7. I can take care of myself.” She says, and with a sudden jolt, she realizes this is the first time he’s willingly speaking to her. The first time they’re talking and it’s to argue. Lovely.

“If you had simply stayed away, then I would have been allowed to follow Father. Instead, I am being punished for your insolence.” He adds. Is he going to lecture her the entire time Batman and the others are fighting in the warehouse, she thinks, raising an eyebrow. She starts to snark back, but a shadow moving behind him pulls her attention instead. Narrowing her eyes, she watches as a figure steps out of the shadow, a gun raised at her.

“Well well well. What do we have here?” The man asks, a smirk on his face. Marinette glances at Robin, trying to see if he recognizes the voice. She doesn’t see any recognition, so she immediately catalogues the man as an unknown threat. Chances were that he was involved with the group currently fighting in the warehouse and not an actual Batman level villain. But he still had a gun, so she wouldn’t underestimate him. Robin turns to face the man and he immediately takes the gun off Marinette, pointing it instead at Robin’s head. Marinette narrows her eyes. She may not know him very well, but he was still her little brother. And she wasn’t about to let some stupid goon threaten him. Flicking her wrist, she aims her yoyo at the man’s gun, smirking as she manages to yank it from his grasp. She catches the gun as it flies back with her yoyo, holding it carefully and trying to ignore the internal panic. She’d never held a gun before, never wanted to or had a reason to. And she really didn’t want to hold it now, but she didn’t want the man to know that she was scared of the gun, because that would give him an advantage. She just grins at the dumbfounded look on the man’s face, his shock enough so that Robin was able to knock him down without a fight. He pulls a zip tie out of his utility belt and ties the man’s hands together.

“Well that was disappointing. I was hoping for more of a fight.” Marinette teases, hoping that the tension between her and Robin would break. She watches as his lips purse slightly, not sure what the expression meant.

“I hardly think one buffoon with a gun would be much of a fight for either of us.” He finally says, and her eyes light up. Success!

“But if it was the right foe, they could surely take you down.” A new voice says, and this time Marinette can practically feel the tension rolling off of Robin.

“Slade.” He says, obviously tensing for a fight.

“Damian. I wasn’t aware you were in possession of a Miraculous.” The man, Slade, says, turning towards her. Marinette stiffens, uncomfortable by both his words and the fact that she can’t see the man’s face because of his costume.

“I’m not in possession of anything.” He says, his jaw clenched. Marinette shifts into a defensive position, desperately wishing that she had a comm. Surely the rest of the family had heard this man’s intrusion through Robin. But she wished she could hear them. Whether it was giving information about the man or reassurance that the rest of them would be there soon, she wanted to hear them.

“Tell me, little girl, how did you stumble upon one of the most powerful pieces of magic in the universe? And why haven’t I met you before?” He asks, stepping towards them. Glaring at the man, Marinette steps forward so that she’s standing in line with Robin, unwilling to cower behind her brother.

“I don’t think we run in the same circles. And I assure you, I didn’t stumble across anything. I was chosen to wield this Miraculous.” She says, shoving false confidence in her tone when all she wanted was to grab Robin and run. Slade oozed a sense of wrongness and danger. Not a combination she wanted anywhere near her or her family.

“Mmm. Perhaps not. But we’ll never know, will we. I’m going to have to ask you for that Miraculous now, dear.” He says, her eyes narrow.

“I’m not sure if that’s worked for you in the past, but it’s not going to work today. You’re not the first creep in a mask asking for my Miraculous.” She snarks, hand twitching as she analyzes him and tries to come up with a plan. Without any warning, he lunges towards them, a sword suddenly in his grasp. Marinette jumps back, going on the defense as Robin lunges forward with his own katana. Marinette flits around both of them, throwing her yoyo at Slade every time he got too close to Robin. It was obvious the man was well trained, and it was also obvious that he had little patience for the two.

“You’ve improved, but you’re still not good enough.” He hisses, lunging towards Robin, his sword aimed at the boy’s chest. Marinette lunges towards them, shoving Robin out of the way. She shrieks in pain as Slade slides his sword into her shoulder. She can’t see the man’s face, but she can just imagine his smirk. He puts his other hand on his sword, and she just knows he’s going to twist. She can’t let that happen. So instead, she jerks back, screaming as she pulls herself off the sword. Robin launches himself at Slade once again, furiously slashing at the man. Slade lifts his sword up and Marinette flicks out her yoyo, grunting in pain as she irritates her shoulder. But she’s able to wrap her yoyo around the man’s wrist. Smirking, she tugs roughly, pulling the man off balance enough so that Robin can disarm him. Just as she lets her shoulders relax, Slade yanks his arm, tugging her to him. She yelps in pain as he wraps her into a chokehold. Staring at Robin, she tries not to panic. They’re gonna come for them, right? The rest of her family? Surely they’ve beaten those goons by now. They definitely heard the problem on the roof through Robin’s comm, right?

“Unhand her.” Robin says, shifting his position now that he has two swords.

“I don’t think I will. Not for free, anyway. You want her alive for some reason.” Slade says, tightening his hold. Marinette lets out a choked breath, desperately trying to pull in enough oxygen.

“What do you want?” Robin asks, Marinette tries to shake her head, already guessing what the man wants. She’d rather die than give some psycho the power of Tikki. Not only could he destroy the world, but Paris would also be lost without the Miraculous Cure.

“Her earrings. Let me take them, and I’ll let her live….this time.” He says.

“No….don’t...not..worth it.” Marinette manages to say, just barely able to shake her head. She gags as Slade tightens his grip again, black spots dotting her vision.

“Ladybird-” Robin says, and Marinette is certain she’s hallucinating now. Because he almost sounds pained.

“Don’t.” She begs, fighting to stay conscious. As she watches him, she sees a smirk make its way onto his face. That’s good. Good. Smirking brother means….what does it mean? She’s not sure. All she knows is that suddenly, the pressure on her neck is gone. She falls to her knees, gasping for breath and wincing at the burning in her shoulder. Too much. Too much all at once. A hand on her good shoulder shakes her from her thoughts and she weakly hits at it.

“Ladybird, it’s me.” A voice says. She blinks, opening her eyes, wincing at the pain enveloping her. Looking closer at the figure, she sighs in relief, letting herself slump down. She’s safe. Arms pick her up gently and she smiles softly, tiredness hitting her as the adrenaline finally fades. Curling in closer, she mumbles into Batman’s chest.

“Thanks dad.”

---

Bruce Wayne was pissed. And the only person who could piss him off so much was himself. He’d left Damian and Marinette on the roof alone because he thought they’d be safer. He didn’t think the two would be able to get into any trouble up there. Of course he would be wrong. Of course Slade Wilson would choose tonight to come after Damian. And of course the man just had to know about the Miraculous.

Hearing his daughter’s pained screams over his son’s comm would haunt his nightmares. It’d likely become the unholy symphony over the images of Jason’s broken body and Damian’s limp form. Images that’d haunted him for years and would continue to do so until he dies. When he was young, his nightmares were just of his parents. But he had seen things much worse since becoming a father. And now he’d heard much worse. Shaking his head, he tries hard to hold onto the one bright part of the evening.

Marinette had called him dad.

It was the first time she’d called him anything other than ‘Mr. Wayne’. His heart warmed at the thought, but everything came crashing down again when he remembered. Slade Wilson was gone. He’d managed to get away while his focus was on Marinette’s wellbeing. Which means his daughter was now in even more danger. Damian had informed him of the man’s obsession with the Miraculous. It was something they’d need to talk about, but not tonight. After she passed out in his arms, he brought her back to the manor. Alfred stitched her shoulder, and Bruce brought her to her room. It wasn’t decorated yet, but he’d made sure to pick out a room for her after finding out about her. Even if she didn’t want anything to do with them after this, she’d always have a room here.

Sighing, Bruce sticks his head into Marinette’s room, just to reassure himself that she was there. That she was safe. It was something he did with each of his kids, every time they were injured. Every time he was afraid that he would lose them. The sight in front of him makes him pause and pull out his phone to take a picture. They might be mad at him for it later, but he’d curse himself forever if he let this moment slip away. All of his children were piled in Marinette’s room. The girl herself was on the bed, curled into a ball despite her injured shoulder. At the foot of her bed was Damian, his face peaceful for once. Jason, Dick and Tim were all in a pile on the floor, pillows and blankets scattered both beneath them and on top of them. They were an impossibly tangled pile of limbs, guarding their youngest sister. He smiles softly, eyes finally falling on Cass curled up in an armchair that she must’ve pulled next to Marinette’s bed. Satisfied that all were well, Bruce shuts the door gently, not wanting to risk waking any of them.

His children were together, and safe. For now.

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @imarivers8

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live-the-fangirl-life · 3 years ago

Text

A Starlit Swim

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - Skinny Dipping Oneshot

Aelin shows Rowan to a lovely, secluded spot.

Written for Rowaelin Month 2021. Day 14: Skinny Dipping

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Rowaelin Month Masterlist

Warnings: Language, Lightest NSFW

1547 words

*******

“Shh!” Aelin hissed through a giggle, too loudly to be an actual reprimand.

Rowan snorted and kept a firm grip on his girlfriend’s hand as she pulled him through the woods towards what she insisted was a nice secluded spot.

“Aelin,” he shot his free hand out to steady her waist as she stumbled over a fallen branch, before righting herself and sending a quick smile over her shoulder. “Aelin, I didn’t say anything. That was all you.”

She either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore his point as she kept leading him down a path that only she was aware of.

The soccer team at Terrasen University had just won the championships, and as a Co-Captain, Rowan was very much to thank for that. He and the team set up a bonfire down by one of the lakes to celebrate. But what originally started as the team, their significant others, and friends, soon devolved into a full-on rager the moment some idiot posted a video on Instagram. Now, the entire lake and woods a couple of miles outside campus were crawling with excited, drunk college kids who were all celebrating the victory.

Rowan had been happy standing by the large fire with Aelin leaning into him, her back pressed to his chest with his arms looped her waist and his chin resting on her head. Lorcan and Elide were next to them, standing similarly, although Elide had to stand on one of the logs in order for Lorcan’s chin to reach her hair. Fenrys danced around handing out more drinks to everybody, while Lysandra and Aedion were somewhere in the group of people dancing by the speakers. Rowan had spotted more of his teammates around and recognized a couple of faces of people from classes in the hordes of partygoers, but he was perfectly content being with his small group of friends by the fire.

Until Aelin tugged his arm, urging him to lower his head so she could whisper into his ear. She’d said she knew of a hidden spot a little further into the woods, and that they should sneak off while everyone else was distracted. He almost argued, saying he was fine right where they were, but then she turned in his arms and kissed him in a way that had every coherent thought flying out of his head. He could only grin and nod as she pulled away satisfied and grabbed his hand.

So, now, Rowan was following Aelin as she maneuvered through the trees to this supposedly special spot.

They’d walked far enough that Rowan could no longer hear the music or voices from the party.

“Aelin, where are we going?” He hissed as he nearly tripped over another tree branch.

Aelin only giggled and shushed him again. A moment later she told him, in a horrifically bad haunting accent, “I’m luring you into the woods to kill you. No one will find your body.” Her laughter decimated the fake threat.

Rolling his eyes, Rowan snickered, “Nah, you like me too much to kill me.”

She looked back, almost tripping again as she winked, “I guess.” He caught her lip twitch as she unsuccessfully fought a smile.

“You guess?” he grumbled.

Aelin stopped abruptly and Rowan nearly sent them crashing to the ground before he stopped moving. She turned to face him and the next thing he knew, she was kissing the living daylights out of him. Rowan reacted instantly, the slight haze from a couple beers making him feel even lighter. Aelin pulled away before they got too carried away and ended up rolling in the leaves and dirt.

“Okay, maybe I do like you too much to kill you.”

Rowan laughed and Aelin grinned before spinning around and resuming her mission of pulling him through the woods to wherever she was imagining.

“Seriously, Fireheart,” he asked again as the trees slowly thinned out around them. “Where are we going?”

Instead of answering, Aelin’s giggling filled the air again.

Rowan chuckled under his breath; this was three-drink Aelin escorting him, then. It hadn’t taken Rowan long to notice Aelin’s varying drunk personalities. One-drink Aelin was affectionately named The Megaphone, the buzz of alcohol making her yell and shout. Two-drink Aelin, The Instigator, believed her purpose in life was encourage their friends to act on their ridiculous, sometimes insane, plans. Three-drink Aelin, this Aelin, was The Giggler because for whatever reason she found everything absolutely hilarious.

Rowan was also familiar with four-drink Aelin: The Horndog, who wouldn’t be dissuaded by a party full of people when she’d straddle his lap and practically jump him right there on the spot. Or, five-drink Aelin: The Francophone who gave up all use of their language and spoke solely in French. He wasn’t sure what six-drink Aelin was like—none of their friends were—but once, Rowan had witnessed seven-drink Aelin, forever deemed The Queen, because she’d insisted everyone call her Your Majesty and Queen Galathynius (Lorcan had quickly dubbed her Fire Breathing Bitch Queen much to her utter delight) and, just Rowan: Milady.

Aelin giggled again as she swayed trying to duck beneath a branch and Rowan gripped her hand tighter as he reached above her to push the leaves aside. It took him a second to take in what he was looking at. Aelin had led him to the edge of a small lake hidden within the forest. The sky was visible through the small openings between branches that stretched across the width of the lake, allowing Rowan to see the stars that were normally invisible by the lights of the city.

“How…” he trailed off, facing Aelin again to see her watching him with a rare, tentative expression.

“What do you think?” She asked hopefully.

Rowan stepped closer to her, pulling her into his arms. “Its beautiful, Fireheart. How did you ever find this place?”

She smirked and giggled again. “Magic.”

He raised a brow, amused, and waited.

Aelin sighed dramatically and tipped her head back, “Fine, Buzzard, if you want the boring answer it’s that I was out on a run one day and got distracted and lost and accidentally stumbled onto this place. It doesn’t look like anyone else comes here. Not that I’ve noticed, anyway.”

Rowan’s grip tightened around her waist, pulling her against him and grinning at her breathless gasp. Leaning down so his nose brushed her ear, he asked, “No one?”

She pulled back and flashed him a wicked grin. “Nope. You know what that means right?”

When all Rowan did was return her grin, she slipped out of his arms and stepped closer to the edge of the water. Aelin held his gaze, winking again, and she slowly lifted her shirt and tossed it aside.

Rowan crossed his arms, leaning against a nearby tree and smirked, content to watch the show his girlfriend was giving him. His gaze never left hers as she reached down to unbutton her jeans before rolling those down and throwing them into the pile with her shirt.

When she was standing there in just her underwear and bra she paused, raising a brow at Rowan.

“Well are you going to join me, Buzzard? Or are you just going to watch?” Her smirk told him there was only one right answer.

He slowly stalked towards her, his eyes darkening as she bit her lip while she watched him. When they were almost chest to chest, he gripped the back of his collar and pulled his shirt over his head, smirking at the way Aelin eyes roamed across his bare chest.

Once his pants were off, he grabbed her hand and made to lead her towards the water. Aelin followed without hesitation, only stopping once her feet hit the water.

“What?” Rowan asked, wading into the pleasantly warm lake and raising an eyebrow at his girlfriend still standing on the bank. “I thought you wanted to swim.”

She smirked, her eyes glinting in the reflected starlight. “Not exactly.”

Before he could ask what she meant, Aelin’s hand flew behind her to unclasp her bra, quickly pulling it off before slipping her underwear down her and throwing them into their growing pile of clothes.

Rowan practically growled as Aelin strutted into the water without a shred of clothing. Before she even reached him, Aelin watched as Rowan tossed his sopping wet briefs across the water and heard them land with a slap on the dry rocks.

When she got close enough, Rowan’s hand wrapped around her wrist and then her waist to pull her body flush with his. Aelin wove her wet fingers through his hair and wrapped her legs around his waist as their lips came together in a fierce kiss.

After a few minutes they pulled away, breathing heavily, and savoring the feeling of swollen lips and the other’s arms wrapped around them.

“Have you ever been skinny dipping before?” Aelin asked coyly, looking at Rowan through her eyelashes.

He ran a broad hand down her back, “Can’t say I have.”

She grinned, already having known his answer. “Then allow me to show you how fun it can be.”

By the time Aelin and Rowan meandered out of the woods, the hazy light of morning was just peeking through the trees.

*****

Taglist:

@acourtofsnakes @allthebooksunderthemoon @astra-ad-mare @becarefuloflove @booklover41802 @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @danibutterr @doubt-less @emily-gsh @enormousbooklover @foughtconquered @fromthelibraryofemilyj @hakunamatatazz @i-have-but-one-brain-cell @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jorjy-jo @lemonade-coolattas @mariamuses @mayhemories @midsizewitch @miserablesmusings @morganofthewildfire @nehemikkele @rowaelinismyotp @rowansfirebringer @sayosdreams @sheharahu @sleeping-and-books @stardelia @story-scribbler @superspiritfestival @surielandiareendgame @swankii-art-teacher @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @moodymelanist @angelic-voice-1997 @realbookloverproblems @gracie-rosee @julemmaes @yesdreamblog @the-regal-warrior @rowanaelinn @thestoriesyoutell @autumnbabylon @sunflowermoonshinewrites @maastrash

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin month #aelin #Rowan #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #aelin and rowan #rowan and aelin #aelin galathynius x rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fluff #rowaelin fic #rowaelin Oneshot #skinny dipping #throne of glass #tog

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secretly-tword-obsessed · 4 years ago

Text

He Kissed A Boy (And He Liked It)

Hello gigglers!

This fic was prompted by @https://veryblushyswitch.tumblr.com/

I hope you enjoy it!

Fandom: Big Mouth

Summary: Aiden gets into a playful fight with Matthew in the kitchen, and discovers something that could give him the upper hand.

This was never the way he planned, not his intention.

Yet somehow, it had turned out like this.

He’d kissed a boy, and he’d liked it.

He had kissed Aiden, and it was one of the best things he’d ever done.

Matthew could hardly believe that the random boy that had gaydared him at the pharmacy was now his boyfriend. (Is that even a word? Who cares.)

And now, flash forward a few months, they were baking together in the church bake-off to rebel against Matthew’s mother.

“Pass me the spoon”, Aiden ordered. Matthew grabbed the cooking spoon and passed it to him. Aiden violently beat the cake batter he and Matthew had just made.

“Whoa, whoa. Easy there”, Matthew chuckled, amused at his boyfriend’s violent stirring. “Sorry”, Aiden said, beating the spoon even harder and louder than before, “I can’t hear you over my awesomeness”.

“Oh, give me a go”, Matthew said, gently shoving Aiden to the side. He grabbed the spoon to mix it himself.

“Hey!”, Aiden whined, reaching to fetch the spoon back.

“Uh-uh-uh”, Matthew taunted, lifting the spoon into the air above Aiden’s reach, “You stir like a good boy or you don’t stir at all”. Aiden humphed. He stood on his tippy toes, yet Matthew did the same, and he was significantly taller than Aiden.

“Give me back my spoon!”

“Beg for it!”

Aiden rolled his eyes, “You know, you can’t keep your arms up forever”.

Matthew chuckled, ��I’m stronger than I seem Aiden”.

Both boys felt fluttery from the playful atmosphere. Suddenly, Aiden had an idea. He grinned smugly, he just hoped to hell it worked.

“You sure you can keep your arms up?”

“Oh yeah”, Matthew responded.

“Okay”, Aiden said dismissively, “I guess I give up than”. Aiden walked behind Matthew slowly, as if retreating, before, in a sudden movement, he dug his fingers under Matthew’s arms.

Matthew shrieked girlishly and flung his arms down, Aiden capturing the spoon as soon as he did so.

“Hah!”, Aiden said, “That wasn’t very long, was it. I thought you said you could keep your arms up forever!”

“You scared me!”, Matthew remarked back, crossing his arms.

“Oho, so that's what you think it was”, Aiden chuckled, stepping closer to Matthew and dropping the spoon onto the counter.

“Yeah”, Matthew said, “I’m easily scared”.

Aiden shook his head, “Nope, I think your ticklish babe”.

Matthew blushed a deep scarlet, “Wha-wha- no I’m not!”

“Than why are you blushing like a tomato?”, Aiden asked, taking a step towards Matthew. Matthew decided, without thinking, to grab the spoon off the counter and make a run for it.

“Oh, you are so on”, Aiden said, bolting after him.

Jeez, Aiden was running as fast as he could, but Matthew was a bloody lightning bolt. That was when he remembered: It was his house, not Matthew’s. He had the advantage of knowing where the shortcuts were.

Matthew was definitely surprised when he saw Aiden bolt off in the opposite direction. He knew the boy was up to something, but he didn’t know what. Oh well, he just kept running.

That was when Aiden jumped out from a corner right in front of him, “Boo!”

He screamed and him and the baking spoon came toppling to the ground. Aiden took this opportunity to pounce, knowing that his boyfriend could easily escape otherwise. He immediately started tickling Matthew all over; from his neck to his knees to his stomach, all in one swift notion. Matthew burst into laughter, but tried not to squirm to much, as he didn’t want to hurt his boyfriend.

“NHOHOHO AIHIHIHIDEN STAHAHAHAWP!”

Aiden snickered, “Nah, I don’t think I will. You do deserve this after all, for trying to steal my spoon!”.

“I WAHAHAS GOHOHONNA GIHIVE IHIT BAHACK!”, Matthew cried, trying desperately to smack Aiden's hands off. This gave Aiden the idea of pinning Matthew’s arms above his head and nuzzling into his stomach.

“NOHOHO! NOHOHOT THEHEHERE!”

Aiden grinned, “How can you be so ticklish and so sassy. You know that I’m going to use this against you in the future, right?”

“OHOHOHO SHUHUHUT UHUHUHUP!”

Aiden gasped and put a hand on his heart, “Okay, that's it. I didn’t want to have to do this Matthew, but you leave me no other choice. I present to you, squeezzes!”

Aiden squeezed the sides of Matthew’s stomach. It was his worst spot himself, so he hoped it would work on Matthew. And just like that, Matthew’s laughter got ten times louder.

“OH NOHOHOHO!”

Matthew couldn’t resist anymore, he kicked out his leg.

Just like that, Aiden went flying backwards.

Matthew gasped, “Oh my god I am so sorry! Are you okay?”

Aiden sat up and rubbed his head, “Yeah, I’m fine”

“Do you need some ice?”

Aiden just kissed him.

Another kiss, and it was just amazing. Matthew’s heart got butterflies, and he wrapped his hand around the back of Aiden’s head.

“Now”, Aiden said, “Lets get back to baking”.

The boys stood up and walked to the kitchen.

Matthew kissed a boy, and he liked it.

Than, he remembered what Aiden had said: “How can you be so sassy yet so ticklish? I’m going to use this against you in the future!”

As Aiden stirred the mixture, more steadily this time, Matthew sassed him again.

“I’m surprised your even managing to hold that spoon up with those skinny arms!”

Aiden turned around to Matthew, raising an eyebrow, “Was that on purpose?”

Matthew blushed, “Was-was what on purpose?”

“Well”, Aiden said, “It worked.”

And just like that, Matthew’s laughter filled the room once again.

#big mouth tickle #big mouth fluff #lee!matthew #big mouth tickle fic #matthewxaiden

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thesoundofnat · 5 years ago

Text

I should tell you

Finn/Poe, Rey

Summary: Finn tries to tell Rey that he and Poe are together, but they keep getting interrupted (sometimes by Finn’s own incapability of outright saying it).

A/N: Bitches hear one line in the new Star Wars movie and takes it out of context and bases a whole fic around it. It’s me, I’m bitches. No spoilers for The Rise of Skywalker. This takes place before it. Finn was so much fun to write, I hope you like this!

Words: 2 086

“Rey, I need to tell you something.”

Finn didn’t have time to say a single thing, though, as a blaster was suddenly pointed straight at them and nearly hitting Finn in the shoulder. He ducked, screaming as he did, and Rey pointed her own weapon at the Stormtroopers. Truly not the best time, but Finn had suddenly had a moment of revelation and wanted to bare his whole soul. He didn’t have time for it now.

“Can it wait?” Rey asked, shooting and shooting and oh god would they ever do anything else again but shoot various weapons and run for their lives?

“Sure,” he said, voice higher, hands shaking ever so slightly as he raised his own blaster. Yeah, it could wait. Maybe a lifetime, since Finn found his courage sinking as much as his heart as the Stormtroopers kept coming and coming.

Rey was suddenly running, and would you look at that, Finn was running behind her, both of them shouting as they kept shooting. Sand in his fucking shoe. So much sand on this godforsaken planet. Did anyone even need this much sand?

“Finn!” Rey screamed, and oh, he was kneeling, his leg suddenly in so much pain, and Rey had lost her blaster on the way and was using the force to boomerang the incoming ships into the mountains. Finn didn’t catch the rest, because Poe was there, lifting him up, almost carrying him away, and Finn tried to say his name, tried to say Rey’s name, but it really fucking hurt being shot in the leg and all he could managed was a strangled cry that he would deny later. Not that anyone would hold it against him, but still.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Poe was saying, rambling, almost going into panic mode, and usually Finn would try to calm him down but he was feeling quite panicked himself if he had to be honest.

They entered the ship, Rey behind them, screaming at Chewie to go go go, and they were up, or so Finn assumed because he sort of lost track of things after that.

Later, much later, he woke up feeling groggy but whole. A throbbing thigh but nothing worse. Whatever they had done, it had worked.

“Thank Rey,” Poe said, his fingers around Finn’s, but when Finn looked around Rey wasn’t there.

“What did she do?” he asked, his voice hoarse, throat screaming for water.

Poe shrugged. “She used the force.”

“I need to tell you something.”

This planet was greener and richer in every way, but Finn was a bit sick of slapping bugs from his arms. They were laying low, all of them fixing up ships and making plans and biding their time, but Finn could tell Rey was one second away from hopping into a ship herself and leaving. He found himself watching her, watching Poe, knowing they were probably watching him and each other. War made people reckless once they realized they’d lost enough, and Rey was like wildfire.

But she was also Finn’s friend, and sometimes he just wanted to have a regular conversation.

“The thing you tried to tell me before?” she asked, turning to smile at him, always smiling at him.

“Yes.” He sat down beside her on the fallen branch, his leg almost better than before. “Before we got so rudely interrupted.”

She laughed. “I can’t promise it won’t happen again.”

“Hopefully I won’t get shot this time. Thank you again, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it, really.” She bumped their shoulders together, and Finn could tell she was exhausted.

“When was the last time you slept?”

Visibly caught off guard, Rey fumbled. “Uh-”

“If it’s longer than 20 hours I’m sending you to bed right now.”

“Didn’t you have something to tell me?”

“It can wait.” Maybe he was still biding time.

She leaned forward, elbows resting on her thighs. “Is it bad?”

“No.” Quite the opposite.

“Then tell me so that I can go to bed happy.”

“It’s… well, it’s quite silly. I should’ve just told you ages ago, but now it feels weird since I’ve waited so long.”

Rey didn’t say anything, merely looked at him, face blank, neither pushing or assuming. Finn felt like throwing up anyway.

“Uh, well,” he started, looking away, as far away as he could without turning his back on her. “It’s… You know how I- Or maybe you don’t. Why should you?”

“Know what?” A gentle push now, to steer him in the right direction.

“Right. So. You know Poe?”

“I do know Poe, yes.” Her smile when he turned back to her made him start laughing almost hysterically, and he found he couldn’t stop.

“What?” She was whining now, begging, demanding, laughing, her hand grabbing Finn’s arm and pulling and shaking and slapping, but Finn couldn’t calm down enough to say another word.

“Geez, what did you give him?”

He recognized Poe’s voice, which didn’t make things better whatsoever.

“Nothing!” Rey said, audibly not minding him laughing but too curious to leave him be. “He was trying to tell me something and then started laughing.”

Finn had to stand, turning to face him and doubling over in the process. It wasn’t even fucking funny.

“I think it’s a nervous reaction,” Rey continued and Poe was nodding, grinning, but had Finn been calmer he would’ve seen something akin to understanding behind his eyes.

But Finn had to literally wander away from them before he could calm himself. So much for a normal conversation.

“I didn’t know you were a giggler when you were nervous,” Poe said that evening, and Finn laughed in response, though he had to admit he was all laughed out for a bit. “I mean, you giggle a lot around me, but I thought it was because I was so handsome.”

Finn rolled his eyes, but he let Poe lean his chin on his shoulder. “I didn’t know either, but to be fair I tried to talk about you.”

“You finally gonna tell her?”

“It’s been too long as it is.”

“She’ll just be happy for you, you know. For us.”

“I know but-” Finn cut himself off with a sigh. “I’ve built it up so much now, and each time I try to tell her something goes wrong.”

“You want me to tell her?”

“No. It should come from me.”

Poe hummed, his fingertips skimming the nape of Finn’s neck, making him shiver. “You should just say it. No prelude.”

“I want it to be a conversation.”

“I see.”

“Is that silly?”

“No.�� Poe pressed his lips to his neck. “I think it’s endearing.”

“I need to-” Finn stopped in his tracks, remembering Poe’s advice about just saying it, but Rey was already looking at him. An eyebrow raised, so visibly amused.

“Tell me something?”

Finn deflated. “Yes.”

She laughed. “Sit.”

He did, the chair of the Falcon comfy and big and the perfect spot for a conversation. He shouldn’t have been nervous.

But he was. Oh, he was.

“The thing is,” he started. “I’m-”

“Incapable of making conversation?” she said when he didn’t continue, her smile soft. “Go on.”

“I don’t know why it’s so hard.”

“Give me a hint? Maybe I can guess.”

And then something exploded and the whole fight and flight thing resumed. Finn was so tired.

Finn didn’t understand how Rey hadn’t figured it out. He often found himself acting like a total fool around Poe, but he couldn’t stop.

“Don’t go,” he was begging now, holding Poe’s wrist and refusing to let him to get out of bed and leave him cold and alone.

“I have to,” he said, but he didn’t twist his hand out of Finn’s wrist or tickle him into letting go like he could - and oftentimes would - do. Instead he remained sitting, one foot dangling off the bed while the other was tucked beneath him. Half turned away from him, but Finn had his own face partly buried in a pillow so it didn’t matter. He was holding onto Poe’s hand for dear life.

Sort of.

He whined, knowing he’d done similar things in public when Poe had done something he hadn’t liked, mostly leave him, and Rey had to know, she had to know what this meant, but he couldn’t just assume.

Poe was laughing, turning to fully face him now, his free hand on Finn’s back, and Finn hummed contentedly, smiling despite himself when Poe leaned down to kiss him, and Rey had to fucking know if one ounce of attention from Poe made him melt despite their surroundings.

“Do I-” Not love. Too early to talk about love. “Do I enjoy you visibly?”

Poe’s turn to cackle like a maniac now. “What was that?”

“I mean,” Finn tried to explain, feeling himself flush. “Is my… affection for you visible?”

“It is to me.”

“How?”

“In the little ways.”

“Enough for others to see?”

“If they’re looking, though I think it’s clear we don’t hate each other or anything.”

Finn huffed out a laugh. “You’re too pretty to hate.”

“I knew you were just with me for my looks.”

“And because you fly me places.”

“At least I contain multitudes.”

“Oh, many.”

“Talk to her,” Poe said, changing the subject so suddenly that Finn forgot to complain when he slipped his hand out of his grip and stood. “You’re stressing yourself out for nothing.”

Well, he needed a hobby.

He sighed. “I’ll go find her.”

Poe was, unfortunately, getting dressed. “Try practicing your speech on others maybe.”

“You think that will work?”

“Yes.”

So Finn was suddenly on a mission to tell everyone else before he told Rey, because that was the logical solution to this tongue twisting trouble, right?

He’d truly die before telling her, he was calling it.

BB-8 lowkey knew, but Finn wanted to tell it anyway. Just to practice. Just to make sure.

Maybe to stall.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, feeling a twinge of nerves when the droid turned to look at him. “I need to tell you something.”

No prelude, he heard Poe say. Next time, honey, sorry, honey.

“I’m with Poe,” he blurted. “I mean, not right now. He’s not here. I mean.”

He could’ve sworn BB-8 tilted its head to the side.

“I like him. As a man. Wait, what?”

He heard Poe laughing hysterically behind him, having come up to them without Finn hearing. “I’m not sure BB-8 gets what you mean.”

Finn turned to pout at him. “This is hard.”

“It’s not. Just say we’re together.”

“Together.”

“Yes.”

“We’re together.”

“See?” Poe poked his ribs. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Finn shoved him lightly. “I can’t help it.”

Poe wrapped his arms around him, unusually affectionate while in public. Finn didn’t mind. Truly would never mind. Maybe they could stay like this until everyone knew, with Poe’s lips pressed to Finn’s jaw, eyelashes almost tangled.

BB-8 made a sound, and Poe laughed into Finn’s skin. “Yes, buddy. I do like him.”

Another beep.

“Of course you knew. I don’t think I’ve been good at keeping it a secret.”

“I didn’t know,” Finn mumbled. “Not at first.”

“I don’t think I fully knew at first either, to be fair.”

“Looks cozy.”

So used to being subtle, Finn nearly jumped out of Poe’s embrace as they turned to look at Rey, but Poe kept him in place.

“It is,” he said, one hand rubbing Finn’s back, soothing him. “Wanna join?”

“I’m good.” Her voice was normal, but her face softer than Finn had ever seen it. “I don’t like being a third wheel.”

Poe laughed. “That’s fair.”

And just like that, she knew. So simple. So easy and so free of judgement. Finn didn’t know why he’d been terrified.

“Is this what you’ve been trying to tell me?” she asked when Poe finally released him.

Finn deflated. “Yes. It’s been a living nightmare.”

“Why?”

“We kept getting interrupted! And I’m not the best with words, apparently.”

She reached out to squeeze his hand. “It’s okay. I like you anyway.”

“Good, because you’re not getting rid of me.”

“Or me,” Poe said from Rey’s other side, the two of them trapping her in their arms.

She was laughing. “I said I didn’t want to be a third wheel!”

“I’m clearly the third wheel here,” Poe said, and Finn reached across Rey to swat at him. “I don’t mind, though.”

BB-8 beeped, wanting in. Even if Finn had wanted to say no he didn’t have the heart to.

#finnpoe #stormpilot #finnpoe fic #stormpilot fic #star wars fic #mine #nat writes #I should tell you #star wars

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saysomethingspiderman · 5 years ago

Text

Something Wonderful (PT. 3)

Synopsis: During your time as a professional photographer, you had come across incredibly good looking men, but there was just something about Tom that stood out. Who would have thought shooting the self-titled “walking meme” would change your life forever?

Chapter word count: 3.5k

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five // Part Six // Part Seven // Part Eight

There had never been pain like it. You carefully opened an eyelid, but shut it almost instantly. An awful ray of sunshine shot through the curtains, making your brain bleed. You barely felt alive. Were you alive? Honestly, you weren’t a hundred percent sure of the answer.

How much had you had to drink?

You vaguely remembered shots and anything after that was a big blur that was gone for good. There was no memory of how you even got home, just the faint recollection of laughing. A lot of laughing. That could have been going on the whole night, though. You always became a giggler after even just a sniff of alcohol.

After taking a deep breath through your nose, you forced yourself to sit up in bed and a horrible feeling that you were going to die in about five minutes swept over you. This was it, this was the end of your drinking adventures. No more drinking… Ah, those famous last words. The disgusting feeling one gets after waking up after far too many cocktails was quite clearly present and you all but prayed that it would be over soon, whether that be the hangover or your life. You weren’t fussed. As long as your headache and nausea disappeared, you’d be happy with either outcome.

A high pitched squeal coming from outside the door made you frown and you rolled out of bed, keeping your bedding cocooned around your frail frame as you shuffled through to the living room. Olivia stood red-faced near the window, teeth sunk into her lower lip to try and deny the presence of a cheeky smile.

“Well now I know why you wouldn’t tell me his name,” she chuckled, looking across the room at you and then glanced back down at Tom, who lay sprawled across the couch, snoring quietly.

“And it’s also why you won’t be telling anyone,” you replied, voice thick and husky from singing along to the music all night. You stared at Tom for a moment and gave a faint smile at the state of him. You were in no state to judge; you were near enough in the same way.

Olivia got started on breakfast so you curled up on the smaller couch in front of the window, feeling sorry for yourself. You tried to rack your brain for any memories from the night before. The headache got worse the more you dug deeper. Your eyes scanned the room, seeing Tom’s boots that he’d kicked to the other side near the television. Your heels weren’t too far away and you frowned a little at the colour of the toes. What was on- Oh. It was vomit. Now you remembered. Tom had thrown up on your feet right after you’d nearly-

“Thank fuck you’re here.” Your head snapped back over to the occupant of the couch. Tom rubbed a hand over his face and gave a heavy sigh. “I thought I’d been kidnapped or something.”

“I’m not sure a kidnapper would leave you all alone to drool on the cushions,” you hummed, shaking your head a little.

He looked around tiredly and wiped the sleep from his eyes. His hair stuck up at all angles and there was the slightest hint of stubble on his jaw. “Did we-”

“No.”

“-do shots?”

“Oh. Right. Yeah. My treat, I guess,” you murmured, cheeks burning. You weren’t sure whether you were more nervous about the possibility of him meaning sex or just the kiss. Both ideas made your stomach flutter.

“They’re always my killer,” he grunted and curled into himself, mirroring your position. It was obvious how much he was dying and you’d never related to anything more.

“Was a fucking great night though,” you smirked. “We’ve got the hangovers to prove it.”

“You’ve got that right,” he agreed and fumbled around to find his phone, eventually pulling it from the back pocket of his trousers. He squinted slightly at the brightness of the screen as he read over the extortionate amount of missed calls and text messages. “Shit,” he muttered, raking his fingers through his hair and messing the curls up even more. “I was supposed to leave for the airport an hour ago.”

You waited for him to move, to start gathering his things, to run out the door. Your brows furrowed into a deep frown when he just stayed, fingers tapping rapidly at his screen as he typed out a message. “The plane won’t wait for you, you know,” you told him, pushing your hair from your face to tuck behind your ear.

“Yes, yes, I know that, I’m just trying to find out how I’m meant to get there in time.” He sat up and his face paled considerably at the swift movement, but he just took a deep breath to hold back the urge to throw up.

When his phone rang and he answered almost instantly, you headed into the kitchen to make a cup of tea for the both of you. Your parents had ingrained in your brain since your early years that tea fixed everything. You placed his mug on the coffee table in front of him and sat down with your own, sipping the hot liquid quietly.

“Yes, I know, I’m sorry,” Tom sighed into the phone, visibly frustrated. “It was just a few dri- I don’t know, Chelsea I think… Well, I don’t remember getting home, that’s how I don’t know where I am, Harry…”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing and had to force yourself not to listen in case something broke you. Despite your brother being three years old, you were still well experienced in that kind of bickering only siblings could understand.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he said with a small chuckle after saying goodbye to his brother. He reached over and took the cup of tea, taking a much needed gulp. “You’d think he was my mother or something with the way he treats me sometimes.”

“Just sounds like he’s looking out for you,” you shrugged, staring as he licked his lips after placing the mug back down on its coaster. “And it also sounds like you need to go. I’m sure you don’t need nor want another lecture if you actually do miss your flight.”

Tom nodded and stood, taking a moment to catch his balance before shoving on his boots. After double checking he had his wallet, keys and phone (although there was a huge temptation to leave it to avoid more calls and texts), you walked him down the short hallway to the front door.

“I really wish I wasn’t leaving today.” He fumbled with his keys in his hand and stayed standing in the doorway. He gave a half smile, the exhaustion evident in his eyes. “Maybe we could have gone out for food or something… Somewhere where we’d actually remember how it ends.”

The image of your almost kiss made its way into your mind, the memory near enough teasing you about what could have been. You glanced up at him and caught a glimmer in his eye. Did he remember? You cleared your throat quietly. “Yeah, well we can sort something for when you get back,” you suggested and tried to keep the hopefulness in your voice at bay.

“Or if you just happen to be hanging around America at any point in the next couple of weeks, just give me a shout,” Tom laughed and you couldn’t help the grin that lit up your face.

“I’m actually over there for another shoot soon so I guess we can go out then if we cross paths again.” You weren’t one to believe in fate, but what was the likelihood that you were both in another country at the same time in the middle of your busy schedules?

“Let me know when you’re over and I’ll see what I can do,” he winked and your eyes sparkled.

You shook your head and moved to start pushing him out onto the landing. “Well we’ll see about that, Holland. You’ve got work to do over there and that means you can’t miss this flight so off you go, go be a good little actor,” you teased and he snorted as he humoured you by moving away, though you knew your small frame barely did anything to force him out. He bent down to kiss your cheek, but gave a huff when his phone started ringing for the second time that morning. With another wink, he hurried off down the stairs, talking frantically to the person on the other end.

~*~

The two of you talked near enough on a constant basis. Whether that was through text, voice notes of stories just too long and exciting to type, FaceTime or the odd phone call that was usually cut short. It was strange. You knew more than likely that nothing would happen, that your lives were too busy for each other, but not one part of you wanted to end it. It felt like being back at school and getting excited every morning at the thought of seeing him again, except instead of giving a shy smile in the school corridor, you both sent ugly snapchats to each other as a way to wish one another good morning.

The time difference was difficult, that was to be expected. With Tom flying all over America and you staying in London for some home shoots, there were days where only a phone call would do, but those phone calls would last way over an hour. He’d tell you all about his day, about the fun him and the team were having. He’d tell you some of the crazy requests he’d been asked to do during interviews, all of which he’d happily complied. It was all in good nature and he loved showing off; it was all part of the job. When he’d catch himself excitedly recounting a funny story of what he, Zendaya and Jacob had gotten up to during their day of promoting, he’d ask how your day had been, the tone in his voice always giving away how genuinely interested he was. You’d let him in on the photoshoots you’d done and how much of your life work had taken over, and how you wouldn’t have it any other way. Luck had given you your break and you weren’t one to be ungrateful for the opportunity, no matter how much you craved just an extra ten minutes of free time.

When you eventually arrived in the States, the schedule of the shoot ended up changing to be spread out over a few days, which meant your plans with Tom had to be completely amended. The two of you had set a whole day aside to explore New York together and you’d even added notes to your phone of a number of places you wanted to eat at. All that had to be thrown out the window. Why were you so bothered? You’d spent one night getting drunk together which ultimately led him spending the night at your flat in another room. It wasn’t anything special. Yet you still couldn’t help the giddy feeling over seeing Tom for barely even half of what was originally planned.

You spent extra time on your makeup the morning you were finally getting to see Tom, and went through your whole suitcase as though there would be a completely new set of clothes that were better than the multiple pairs of black jeans you’d packed. As there was no other choice, you settled on a pair of black jeans and a simple t-shirt. Afterall, it was just breakfast. After zipping up your heeled boots, you headed out of your hotel room and hailed a taxi to meet Tom at Buvette over in the West Village.

Unlike the first time you’d met up, Tom arrived early and you saw him standing outside the building on his phone. You beamed at the sight of the young man, appreciating how tight his jeans were. “Hey, stranger,” you smiled, having to raise your voice slightly to be heard over the car horns on the busy road.

Tom looked up from his phone and grinned. He slipped his phone into his back pocket and reached over to pull you into a tight hug, erasing the worry that things would be awkward. “Hello, darling,” he hummed and gave your cheek a gentle kiss. “Long time no see.”

“We’ll save the catching up for later, I’m bloody starving!” you laughed and led him into the restaurant. A waiter brought you both to a table by the window and you took a moment to just people watch, making up your own stories in your head about what they were rushing around to do. Orders were taken and the food soon arrived. “Have you seen how much people love those photos from our shoot?” you asked after swallowing a mouthful of poached egg. “I posted a few the other day on Instagram and it’s safe to say you have a lot of, ah, imaginative fans,” you snorted and glanced up at him with a bold glint in your eye, catching the blush on his cheeks.

Tom shook his head and rolled his eyes. “I don’t read comments so wouldn’t know.”

“Yeah, I wish I could erase some of the comments from my memory.”

“It’s a talent I’ve come to master.” He pushed up his glasses before cutting into his waffles and dunked a large piece into the syrup. “I wish we had the whole day together. I even tried to move a couple things around.”

“The morning is better than nothing.”

“Yeah, but I wanted it to be a good date, not something we could do any day of the year.”

“Oh, so this is a date, huh?” you questioned, brow raised to go with the teasing smirk that graced your lips. It hadn’t been discussed, you’d just assumed you were catching up. Admittedly, it sounded like a date from the beginning with all the planning and the cute little food spots you’d planned to visit, but neither of you had given the day an official title. Was that too much of a pre-teen thought?

Tom’s eyes widened a little and he did near enough everything to avoid looking at you. “I, uh, well I mean… I just-”

“We’ll call it a date,” you giggled. “Just to please you.”

His soft laughter filled the room, the sound drowning out the morning chatter of workers grabbing a quick bite to eat before their long day. “We’ll make it a good one, I promise.”

Tom was definitely one to stick to his promise. After much protesting, you gave in and let him be the gentleman and allowed him to pay the bill before he whisked you away out into the hectic streets of New York. The heat from the sun hit your skin, the warmth hot enough to burn. It was an absolutely gorgeous day, something that helped you ignore the large amount of New Yorkers who shoved past you on their way to work without so much as an apology. There was something about early starts that almost always made people grumpy.

At the end of the street, Tom raised his arm to hail a taxi and you both climbed into the back seat. He handed the driver a note and told him to go to the address written.

“Where are we going?” you asked as you pulled the seat belt over your shoulder. The car took off barely a couple of seconds after the door slammed shut.

“It’s a surprise,” he replied with an excited grin that lit up his whole face. “You’ll like it. Well, I hope you will. It’s quite a way away, we’ve to go over the bridge, but it’s worth it, trust me. It’s somewhere I always go if I have spare time whenever I’m here.”

“Okay, well no pressure on me to like it then.”

“No, no pressure at all. Just know that if you hate it then you’ll have ruined the whole day for the both of us.”

The taxi zoomed through the city, cutting in front of near enough every other car on the road. It wouldn’t be New York without a taxi driver auditioning for the next Fast and Furious film.

Ever since you received your first disposable camera on your tenth birthday, you rarely went anywhere without one in your bag. Granted, there had been multiple upgrades since then, but the enthusiasm for shooting never faded. You pulled your camera from your backpack and clicked away, trying to get the best photos possible. Tom even appeared in a few, pulling faces when he caught you aiming the lense his way, though he did give a smile in a couple. That smile could have killed someone. You let Tom have a play, though gave a firm warning that it cost more than double your rent, which was incredibly high for a small flat in Chelsea, so if he broke it, he’d be coughing up the money. Your collection of cameras gave you a feeling of happiness you assumed parents felt about their children. Laughing at how protective you were over an inanimate object, Tom used some tips and tricks he’d been given from his brother Harry and shot some photos of the scenery that flew by, only stopping when the taxi pulled up outside the gates to Brooklyn Botanic Garden.

“There’s one back in the city, but this one’s quieter,” Tom explained as he followed you out of the car. “That’s one of the reasons I love it.”

To no surprise, after barely making it into the gardens, Tom was spotted. Thankfully, after a few photos and a couple minutes of chatting, the two of you were left alone to wander around the greenery.

“I have to say, I wasn’t expecting this,” you confessed, eyes glued to a butterfly fluttering mere inches from your face.

“What were you expecting, just a quick breakfast and a wave goodbye?”

“A wave is being generous,” you teased and bumped your shoulder against his arm. “I don’t know what I was expecting. Something a bit more… Rushed maybe? Just because I know you’ve got to be back by noon.”

“I wanted this to be special,” he replied in a quiet voice and gave a laugh. “I’m hoping this is memorable and not as a horrendous story you’ll tell your friends when you talk about the worst dates you’ve been on.”

“Oh you just had to go and ruin it, didn’t you?”

He grinned and after an almost unnoticeable hesitation, he slung an arm around your shoulders. Why did this feel so normal? Wasn’t it natural to go through an awkward phase of inwardly squealing about every glance or constantly wondering whether or not he was supposed to brush his hand against yours? In your defense, you hadn’t been in a relationship in two years and you’d matured quite a bit since then. Maybe this was what it was like to actually have a crush on someone in adulthood?

“It reminds me a bit of the Chelsea Flower Show,” you said after snapping a photo of some of the pink roses as the two of you strolled through the Cranford Rose Garden. “My grandparents used to let me tag along when I was younger.” You caught the smirk on Tom’s face and held a hand up before he could say anything. “Yes, yes, I know. I’m aware of how much of a posh totty that makes me sound…”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he laughed, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “We don’t choose where we come from and the privileges we have.”

“Hey, my family worked hard for what we have and I don’t live off that-”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly. Your frown eased slightly. “You’re speaking to someone who completely understands the judgement. And anyway, I can relate to wanting to earn and live off your own money.”

“Okay, okay, let’s both stop with the compliments and be actual normal people,” you laughed and Tom grabbed the camera from your hands. His tongue poked out between his lips as he focused intently.

“What are you doing this next week?” he asked, not looking up from flicking through the camera roll to see if any could be put up against yours.

“Well I’ll be back home so I’m not sure. Why?”

“How do you feel about staying for a bit longer?” He stood up straighter and pushed his glasses up his nose. He offered a smile. “Change your flight. Stay another week. What’ve you got to lose?”

He wanted you to stay. Were things moving too fast? You didn’t care. Staying an extra week with Tom was a whole lot better than spending it at home trying to find the best time to call with a five hour time difference. Just like Tom said, what did you have to lose?

Join my tag list!

Taglist: @sltwin, @bonita-juanita

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your-shield-of-love · 5 years ago

Text

Decided to continue a little, kinda enjoying this idea ^3^

This is part 2 of this short fanfiction series. Enjoy x3

~~~~~~

Since their talk, Varric and the Inquisitor became closer, chatting more often. Varric knew only to bring up Hawke and Warden related things when the pair were alone, though Cole has jumped in every once in a while.

It seemed that the Inquisitor could open up more than before, explaining like they had few options of what they could say but now could say anything. They're not sure that's a good thing honestly but at least the choice is there.

They stopped flirting with *love interest* which has put a strain on their relationship but at least they could still talk with each other.

Varric noticed they were more expressive compared to before and giggled more often. When they were out on some job or quest, the two didn't leave each others side for too long.

The other companions quickly noticed the difference in their relationship, seeing their Inquisitor relax, seeming to become more themselves and less like just the Inquisitor. Iron Bull was one of the first to notice and was happy they relaxed a bit, Sera also was happy they had a sense of humour and hijinks, willing to do small pranks and said something along the lines of,

"Showing yourself to get the lil guys comfortable. Good."

There was one person who had opinions on their friendship and noticed something Varric had stopped talking about.

The Inquisitor, Varric, Dorian and Cassandra were out for a week at the Hinterlands, currently camped near the top of a mountain with a wide view of the entire Hinterlands. Dorian was already in his tent, having some rest after a long day of using a lot of mana. The Inquisitor sat at the edge at the top of a waterfall, sitting on some non wet rocks fyi. Varric sat nearby, his feet resting in the river, while reading. Cassandra approached the two, wearing clothes suitable for sleeping in while wearing a warm jacket over it. She sat beside Varric, a bit behind the Inquisitor and started, "Varric? Inquisitor? May I talk with you both?"

Varric, without raising his head replied, "I doubt we could stop you, Seeker." The Inquisitor laughs softly, Varric smiling in return, his eyes still not leaving the book he read.

Cassandra coughs, "Well I wanted to discuss ... your relationship with the Inquisitor." Tension grew in the air, "It is good that you, Inquisitor seem more relaxed and are still able to lead, however I have my worries."

Inquisitor turns to Cassandra and says, "Don't you always?" Quickly followed with, "Please, speak your mind, Cassandra." They smiled at Cassandra and before Varric could say anything,

"Thank you, Inquisitor." Cassandra stares at the Inquisitor, "I've known Varric since Kirkwall. I know him better now, working alongside him on these missions. And there is something I've noticed, despite it being his most defining trait. Varric no longer - or very rarely speaks of the Champion." The Inquisitor turns away, "I was wondering, are you two... what Hawke and Varric were?"

Varric eyes Cassandra, "What would that he, Seeker?"

Cassandra sighs and turns to Varric, "I know you are - or at least were - best friends, however Cullen has mentioned you seem to have a similar relationship that you had with Hawke. That is what I wanted... to confirm." She pauses for a moment before looking assertive, or sure of what she was going to say, "I do not know what *kind* of relationship you and Hawke shared but I am wondering what relationship you and the Inquisitor have."

The Inquisitor looks down, hiding their blush from Cassandra and before they can say anything, "Seeker. The only one for me is Bianca," he says stroking his weapon who lay beside him. "I thought you knew." He said with a teasing tone.

"Varric!" Cassandra exclaims, "I am being serious. We need to know what relationships the Inquisitor is-"

"Cassandra?" The Inquisitor interrupted, turning to her, blushing with embarrassment. "It's not like that and anyway, if I had to romance anyone... it would be Bianca every time." They laughed, making Cassandra 'ugh' and feel 10x more tired. She got up and left for bed, "Night, Cass!"

Varric sat beside Inquisitor, watching them swinging their legs. Varric joins in, still not wearing his socks and shoes, making the Inquisitor giggle, a small smirk growing on their face. "You have long toes." Varric said, not realising they had taken their shoes and socks off earlier.

The Inquisitor giggled shyly, "Yeah, I've been told they are regal looking." They laughed, Varic laughing slightly. "I'm being serious. I've literally been told that by someone. I wasn't sure what to say, haha."

Varric blinked, "Don't mind what she said, the Seeker I mean."

"I'm not." They said quickly, staring at the stars, "No offense to Cassandra, she can both see things that aren't there and see things that are there."

"So which did she see?" Varric mumbled out loud, not thinking before he spoke.

They looked at Varric from the corner of their eyes, "I'm... not sure yet." A silence fell between them, quickly followed by, "Though I think the ending where I run off with Bianca seems the most plausible." The laugh, grinning at Varric, "Would Bianca take my hand in marriage?"

Varric let's out a hearty laugh, "She's already engaged. Mostly in combat." They scoff and nudge Varric,

"Don't let Cass worry you. She likes to have as many answers as she can. And with the mystery behind the Seekers, the Wardens and whatever else, I think she just wants to know things." The Inquisitor noted, "She means well."

Varric nodded, staring at the Inquisitor. "Bubbles."

The Inquisitor turns to him, "Hm?"

"Your nickname. Bubbles suits you." He smirked, looking at a passing cloud in the night sky.

"Huh? You- you're giving me a nickname?" They looked to their friend, mouth agape.

Varric turns to them, "Well I can't call you chuckles, it's been taken. Giggles is too similar, despite you being a giggler. Can't call you Herold anymore and... I can tell you dislike being called Inquisitor. So, Bubbles." Varric felt arms wrap around him, Bubbles' head leaning on the top of his.

"Thanks Varric." They were almost crying. Something Varric didn't intend.

He pats them on the back, "Welcome bubbles."

"Varric?" The silence of the hug had been broken.

"Yeah Bubbles?"

Bubbles raises their head, staring into Varric's eyes, slowly grinning. "I don't understand something. I've never been called ...Harold." they snort and giggle at their joke, Varric smiling but shaking his head.

"Guess the kid isn't the only one who's getting joke lessons from now on." The two laugh.

"Varric," Bubbles says with a grin, "My humour *is* bad jokes."

~~~~~

I'm addicted to this ship now. \(TT-TT)/

Please let me know what you think hahaha. I'll probably write more short fanfic stuff about dragon age.

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continuallycrow · 5 years ago

Text

i could sit around here for the rest of my life

the coffeeshop/college au nobody asked for. casphardt week day 4: au day. read on ao3 here or below the cut.

“Caramel macchiato for Caspar?”

With a heavy sigh in anticipation of just how hideously Linhardt will have butchered his name on the cup today, Caspar heads to the handoff area and picks up his paper cup. The boxes are ticked and marked in his boyfriend’s easily recognisable scrawl, and just above the siren’s head, Cazpar is scribbled with a crude heart and what might be a butterfly, or might just be a mistake that’s not been crossed through all the way. From the register, Linhardt beams at him, and just for a moment, Caspar feels sixteen again, his heart clenching just a little, the way it always does when he gets to see that smile. It’s part of the reason why he acts so dramatic over the misspellings - because if it makes Linhardt grin and giggle like that, it’s got to be worth it.

“A fucking Z? Really, Lin?” He clutches his chest theatrically, pretends to stumble, and in the process, spills hot coffee all over his hand. “Ow!” “Idiot,” Linhardt scolds fondly, beckoning him over to the counter again and taking his hand. He mops at the coffee with a bit of blue paper towel, but Caspar knows that it’s just an excuse to touch him. Linhardt likes to be touching him. It’s just the way he is, especially now he’s got the Starbucks job at weekends and the football season is in full swing, it’s like they hardly see each other any more.

There’s no line, so Caspar lets Linhardt take him by the collar of his varsity jacket - it’s red and black, the Eagles colours, with his initials stitched on the left side of his chest and his jersey number embroidered on the back, and it might just be his most prized possession after Lin’s heart - and pull him in for a quick kiss. It tastes like coffee, obviously, because Linhardt always has a cup of something on the go, usually a weird secret menu creation or something topped with far too much whipped cream. Today, though, it’s something iced and black, and yet, Linhardt still hides a yawn in his sweater sleeve.

“You are not sleepy right now.” The disbelief is evident in Caspar’s voice. “Oh, but I am so sleepy right now, Cas,” Linhardt almost whines. “How much coffee have you had already?” His coworkers chime in, as if on cue, all bright-eyed as ever. “He’s on his third cup?” Ferdinand guesses. “Fourth, actually. I am surprised his heart is not stopping.” Petra sounds unamused.

Linhardt kisses Caspar again. It’s definitely just to distract him. “How could my heart stop, when you’re here? It beats only for you. And besides, I think I’ve become immune to caffeine,” he adds mournfully, gazing at his cup. Caspar rolls his eyes. “I don’t think that’s a thing. Please drink some water. And call me when you get off.” He leans up for one more kiss, standing on tiptoe, because Linhardt is just that slightest bit too tall, and has taken to wearing a pair of thrifted, thick-soled Doc Martens that Dorothea says are the perfect compliment to his oversized knit sweaters and torn jeans, but Caspar just thinks they were picked out to make his boyfriend an inch too tall to kiss unexpectedly. The only time he can surprise Linhardt with kisses now is when they’re laying in bed, and it’s annoying to need him to bend down every time Caspar wants to show off how fucking cute and how in love they are.

“I promise I’ll drink water. And I promise to at least text you.” Linhardt practically lies across the counter to hug him. “Have fun at practise, okay? Don’t get hurt.” “I never get hurt. I’m fine. I’ll see you tonight.” Caspar reluctantly detaches himself, waves to Petra and Ferdinand, and leaves, the door chime jingling after him.

If he has to run to make practice in time, and his coffee is cold enough to chug by the time he gets there, it doesn’t matter so much when he’s seen Lin.

~~~

“Gingerbread latte for C-Caspar?”

The first snow has fallen on campus, and Caspar has finally given in to Dorothea insisting that he needs to wear more than a hoodie so he doesn’t freeze. He thinks, though, that it isn’t him anyone needs to worry about.

It’s Linhardt, shivering in his Christmas sweater and red apron even among the heat of the coffee machines, his hair coming down from its usually neat half-bun as he flits between bars, grinding beans and steaming milk and pouring hearts and roses in the foam. Petra’s working the register, so Caspar’s name is spelled right for once, and as he goes to take the cup, Ferdinand comes out of nowhere behind Linhardt and pats his shoulder. “Take your half-hour, while you can.”

Caspar beams, and practically drags Linhardt around the handoff, coffee forgotten as he wraps his arms around him. “A whole half-hour? We’re getting spoilt, Linny.” He’s already gently untying the apron strings so Linhardt can take the stupid thing off, so they can commandeer a low table in the corner of the room and Caspar can actually hug Linhardt for the first time in a few days. They’ve been so busy with studying and working that they haven’t had the chance for one of their impromptu sleepovers, both squeezed into a dorm room bed, or even to catch up at lunch. Caspar has been wholly deprived of boyfriend time, and judging by the way Linhardt pulls him down onto an overstuffed couch and buries his nose in the crook of his neck. His face is hot, but his hands are freezing, stained with tiny splatters of mocha and espresso and soon firmly curled in the folds of Caspar’s parka.

“Feeling okay?” Caspar asks softly, nosing into his hair and then deciding to fix it for him. Gentle as ever, he twists the mess into an uneven braid, so at least it won’t get even more tangled as he works. The smell of coffee always clings to Linhardt’s hair, like his personal brand of perfume. In reply, Linhardt sneezes into Caspar’s shoulder. “I fucking hate winter.” A pause. “It’s cold. I want to nap. And I’d happily never see another eggnog latte for as long as I live.” “Aw. C’mon, it’s not that bad, right?” Caspar asks hopefully. “You’re just being a drama queen because you have a cold?” “My blood is ninety percent honey citrus mint tea and cough syrup. And it’s not just a cold. I’m dying.” “Sure you are, babe. Sure you are.” Caspar kisses his head fondly. “You have half an hour and my undying attention. That makes things better. Right?”

When he doesn’t get a reply beyond the softest of snores, his heart melts and breaks and swells all at once. It’s the mark of someone being comfortable, when it only takes a moment for them to fall asleep in your arms or your lap. And it hurts to wake him, when their precious half-hour is up and he has to get back to work, red-eyed and disoriented. Petra takes pity on him, and sends him to do dishes.

If he takes the next day off, and spends it in bed watching Hallmark movies, with Caspar petting his hair and bringing him tea and toast and NyQuil, who is anyone to judge?

~~~

“A pink drink, Caspar? Really? I expected better from you.”

Nobody does disappointment quite like Ferdinand, nose wrinkled in disgust as he holds the cup at arm’s length. “I thought you were an adult.”

Caspar pouts and takes the cup for Caspie. He is going to kill Dorothea for that one, especially as he spots Linhardt’s smug smile. He’s been saving that one up ever since he overheard a tipsy conversation between them at Edelgard’s New Year’s party, one that involved Caspar “waxing positively lyrical”, apparently, about just how much he adores Linhardt. A drunk mind may speak sober thoughts, but drunk Caspar is a sap, and drunk Dorothea is a giggler who likes pet names.

He realises he hasn’t answered Ferdinand. “I am an adult. An adult who likes strawberries, and coconut, and uh, acai. Whatever that is.” “I like the pink drink!” Petra chirps, waving her own almost-empty cup. “And I like a man who is so sure of his masculinity that he isn’t afraid to drink something baby pink,” Linhardt adds between sips of what looks like an iced latte. Caspar narrows his eyes at him. “I thought you made a resolution to drink less caffeine this year. All it does is make you anxious, it doesn’t even keep you awake. You’re broken.” He sidles over to kiss Linhardt anyway. “It’s decaf!” his boyfriend protests. “No it’s not. Decaf lattes are lighter in colour.” “Fuck you, Ferdinand von Aegir.”

Caspar tugs at a lock of Linhardt’s hair where it’s come tumbling over his shoulder. “I’m just trying to look out for you, Lin. For your health. And perhaps a little for my own sanity because your caffeine crashes are fucking awful .” “I don’t have caffeine crashes. This stuff doesn’t even touch me,” Linhardt scoffs, then yelps and lunges for the cup that Caspar has snatched from under his nose. “Give it back!” “If it doesn’t affect you, why do you need it?” “I don’t need it, I…” Linhardt pouts. “I want it. My coffee. Please, Cas.” Ugh. Caspar is absolutely powerless when it comes to Linhardt’s pout and his kicked-puppy eyes and his whining. “Ugh. Fine. You’re hopeless.” “I’ll quit tomorrow?” Linhardt blinks at him, feigning innocence. “I really will?” “No, you won’t.” Caspar rolls his eyes. “I will! From tomorrow, no more caffeine.” “I dare you.”

To his credit, Linhardt lasts until just after lunchtime, head aching with the withdrawal. It takes falling asleep on a cafeteria bench before Caspar relents and drags him back to Starbucks on his day off. He orders a quad-shot espresso and drinks it without a pause, gazing intently at Caspar all the while.

“Never, ever take my coffee again.”

~~~

“Cas?”

Linhardt slips into the changing rooms long after all the other players have gone. He hates it in here, it smells like Axe and sweat and dirt, but Caspar didn’t show up in the stands with the others, so it falls to Linhardt to come and find his boyfriend. The game was close, but not close enough - getting knocked out of the running so close to the final was pretty brutal.

One of the showers is still running, and Linhardt stops in front of it, hand on his hip. “Caspar. I know you’re not still showering. Come out for me.” And then, softer, “Please?”

Caspar always takes the team’s losses as a personal loss. He relies too heavily on himself for the outcome of the games, the actions of his teammates. He may be a captain, but he likes to forget that he’s a human, too. “No. Go away.” “You aren’t made of sugar, as sweet as you are. You won’t dissolve under the hot water. And besides, it can’t still be hot.” “It’s f-fine…” The chatter of his teeth betrays him, and he turns off the water, the cold air of the locker room immediately assaulting his skin. His hair drips down his neck. Maybe this was a stupid thing to do. “Come out, Cas. Come on. It’s only me.”

The curtain twitches aside, and Caspar more or less tumbles right out, into the towel that Linhardt has already grabbed from his bag and proceeds to wrap tight around him. “That’s it. Well done.” Linhardt ignores how wet he is, and kisses his forehead. “You played beautifully. You always do.” “Not good enough,” Caspar sighs. “We suck. We got so close.” A bruise is blossoming across his cheekbone, and when he walks to where he left his clothes, the ankle that got twisted beneath a bad tackle leaves a slight limp in his step. He can feel Linhardt’s eyes on him, concerned, pitying, pained. “You don’t suck. You’ve worked so hard this season. You’ll get to the finals next year,” Linhardt tells him, far too much confidence in his voice, or so Caspar thinks. “Whatever.”

Caspar dresses quietly, and doesn’t complain when Linhardt pulls out his scarf, and gently winds it around his boyfriend’s neck, finishing the gesture with a kiss to his nose, then his lips. “You don’t have to comfort me,” he protests, but it’s weak. For once, he wants the comfort Linhardt always so willingly provides, so he lets his boyfriend zip up his jacket, and towel dry his damp hair even though, outside, he can hear that it’s beginning to rain. “I’m going to anyway,” Linhardt murmurs. “I always will.”

As soon as the fussing stops, Caspar buries himself in Linhardt’s chest, in his layers of wool and his vintage pea-coat, in his embrace. Linhardt holds him there, steadying him, until he’s ready to face the world.

“I brought you hot chocolate,” Linhardt remembers, when Caspar breaks the hug. “Although, it’s probably more like cold chocolate now.” A small smile flutters across Caspar’s face. “We can make more at your place?”

Some things in life are constant. Highs come with lows, wins come with losses. Linhardt comes with sweet hot drinks and the scent of freshly ground coffee in his curls. With icy hands, and holes in his sweater sleeves for his thumbs to poke through. With paper cups and heart-wrenching smiles, and most importantly? Linhardt comes with Caspar. Always.

#fe3h #casphardt #lincas #caspar von bergliez #linhardt von hevring

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fightevilandthengetblownup · 5 years ago

Text

CANONFIC: ...ladies dancing...

—

27th of December

This time of year made the endless parade of Office Christmas and New Year Parties that would flood clubs and bars alike like going to a candy store for tipsy and emotionally frayed secretaries and personal assistants for the shadow. Most tried hard not to get too drunk, a bonus for him, around their work colleagues but as the clock neared one in the morning every weekend, their inhibitions would slowly burn down from some uninterested lawyer or accountant that couldn’t appreciate a nubile and pretty woman. And that would be when he could swoop in, take advantage of their own working up to the idea of a night of fucking and sneaking out in the morning, and find his way back to either a hotel room or some carbon copy bedroom with Pottery Barn sheets and a fiddle leaf fern in the corner.

Tonight it was a very gorgeous brunette, all leggy and rounded at the hips and breasts in the tight gold, sequin dress she had worn, and attention grabbing enough that Gray knew he would not be leaving her lifeless on the bed afterwards as every single bartender and bouncer would remember her figure and seductive eyes; but when she had been rejected by a very reluctant married Executive two barstools down from him, the shadow just couldn’t help himself from taking a run at her. He hadn’t expected it to really be quite as easy as it was, but a quick smirk and a finger down her back with some negging compliment had the woman leaning into him and a whispered suggestion to go back to her place in no time.

As the shadow guided them backwards, lips on hers and smudging the dark lipstick on her mouth as he pushed her down onto the bed with a wicked grin; the prospects of the night seemed to be so high for him.

And then the shrill phone tone started ringing from the pocket of his jacket, discarded on the ‘laundry chair’ in the corner cut through over the ever so pretty sound of the girl’s moans.

“Is..is that your phone?” “Ignore it, Melissa-” “Melanie.” “Yeah yeah, just ignore it. It’s going to go to voicemail.”

The brunette nodded, slipping back higher on the bed before unzipping the dress along her side and sliding out of the sequined cocktail dress with a girlish giggle. Gray fought down the desire to glare, gigglers were so annoying but she was completely naked under it which helped to distract from the sound of it as he lent over her, biting a row of hickeys along her neck and collarbone.

The girl had her hand tugging his tie off from around his neck as the ringtone started up again - shrill and oh so annoying - and dropped the black fabric with a confused look. “Are you sure-”

“It’s fine. I know who it is, and they can wait an hour or ten.” Gray growled the words out, biting a little sharper on the other’s shoulder as he thought over just who it had to be that was calling him. She was the only one with the number, and he really didn’t feel like being distracted by having to go back to faking his way through a conversation with her as his faked-persona. It had been fun when he’d started it, but now it just made his stomach twist each time they talked in that way since fences had been mended with them. The sound of the ring tone died down again, and the shadow stood back up and shrugged off his shirt with a sigh as the brunette rolled about onto her stomach in front of him, letting out a quiet whistle to himself.

And then the ring tone started again.

“Oh for fucks sake.” The shadow snarled the words out, and lent down to the girl, gripping her head by the back of the hair as the girl let out a frustrated whine about his ‘stupid phone’. “Stay right where you are. Be absolutely silent. And wait until I tell you to move.” Gray Whispered harshly into the brunette’s ear, watching as her eyes widened and then she froze and made not a single move or noise as he moved away towards his jacket, fishing out the phone and not at all surprised to see ‘Sweetie’ flashing up on the screen.

Clearing his throat for a moment, Gray ran a hand across his face, before sinking his voice into the borrowed voice of the hunter he’d once used as a taunt for the woman on the other end of the phone and answering with a gruff, “Hello?”

“Hey, William, bad time?” The chirpy, upbeat voice down the line made him frown to himself, not even needing to imagine exactly why the blonde would be in one of her annoying perky moods. Gray knew that his sappy, romantic of a brother was sure to have been doing something ridiculous for her that time of year - probably spent the whole month on his knees with his mouth between her legs or something, the shadow thought with a sneer. “Oh! Happy holidays, by the way.”

“You too, Jo. What’s up?” Gray responded sharply, already feeling that nauseous feeling he had started to a little while after he’d last seen her in the face that matched the voice he was using, and rubbing at his scars awkwardly on his shoulder as he frowned to himself.

“Not much - just family holidays.” “Family?” “Yeah, my friends Sam’n’Dean and that old hunter Bobby - the one who helps set up most of our hunts-” “Oh, him.” “That’s the one! And of course Grey, my boyfriend, and his sister too-”

“His sister?” Gray found himself blinking in surprise at that as he sat down on the bed heavily, not sure if he was amused at the idea of the runt being surrounded by hunters, irritated by how easily the hunter talked about him, or frustrated at the idea of Shada and Jo befriending one another with the potential trouble they could cause him. “Sounds busy. What you need my help with?”

“I’ve got a case - plannin’ to head there just after New Year if you were free.”

“I’d love to but-” Gray found himself replying immediately, not at all prepared to go back into playing in person the hunter-persona all over again.

“Oh please say you’re available, William. It looks like it might be a siren and I could definitely use the backup of someone I trust.” The open and cheerful, pleading words from the other would have been music to his ears back when he first started this game of Faces, but now it made his skin crawl. Gray scratched again at his scars unconsciously, leaning back on the bed and bouncing the stationery brunette for a moment at the weight shift. “I haven’t gone after one of those in years and I could really use the help. Pretty, pretty pl-”

Gray actually let out a growl of annoyance, cutting her off sharply as he ran a hand over his face tiredly. One more please from her and he’d have probably said yes, and the shadow was nothing like the push over his brother was. Letting out a sharp cough to cover the end of the growl at the curious sound from the other end of the line. “Look, I’d love to help you Jo-”

“Oh say you will, I’m not sure if Garth’d be available-” “Jo, who you talking to?” “Just seeein’ if William is available to help on that case next week.” “The siren? If you can’t get him then please get someone else to go too.” “Sure thin’. William, you there? I’m sorry for the interruption, but were you able-?”

Gray felt his teeth go on edge immediately as he could hear the faint voice of his brother cutting over Jo’s words and interrupting his attempt to deny the hunter the support. It set him on edge as well to hear the obvious concern, the spineless worry in his book, from the other - as if the other shadow couldn’t just tag along and help the blonde out if he was so worried about her. Always leaving watching her back to others. Grumbling quietly to himself, Gray rolled his head to the side to see the wide eyed and slightly frightened look in the pretty brunette’s eyes, and felt that dark amusement at generating such fear growing inside of him - running his free hand over the woman’s soft skin instead of scratching at his scars or running them through his hair again. Her ass kneaded and fitted nicely in his palm, giving it a little swat before he replied in that same stolen voice down the phone.

“Jo, you know I love working with you - but I’ve already got my hands full on a.. uh... werewolf case in Louisiana and I’ve got to spend the rest of next week working out who they are before the moon turns the following week.” He thought he was almost talking out of his ass if it weren’t for the appreciative and understanding noises coming through the phone from the hunter.

“I totally get that, full moons definitely can be rough- I’ll, uh, call around instead then.” The almost hesitant sound to the blonde’s voice as she seemed to babble and find her train of thought and then lose it again just made the twisting feeling in his stomach feel worse again. Gray closed his eyes and let out a soundless sigh as he realised exactly what that tone probably meant - familiar from the number of times Jo had lied to his face when they were at each other’s throats, and the way she would babble rather than give a straight answer since they’d...stopped hating one another rather than her lie. “Not a problem though, I’ll be all good. You have a good werewolf hunt and a happy new year, okay? Okay bye!”

“Jo wait-” Gray found himself growling all over again, louder and harsher, as the blonde’s voice disappeared to only have the beeping dial tone greet him. Clenching his fist, tightly grasping probably even painfully on the woman next to him’s backside rather than into a fist itself, the shadow snarled to himself a little. “Fucking dammit, sweetie.” He tossed the phone back towards his jacket behind him as he sat upright and bit down on the angry, unspeakable feeling he wouldn’t put a name to that he felt thinking of the other going off after something like that alone from the feel of her. “Mother fucking dammit.”

Snarling again, the shadow moved upright and grabbed a hold of the girl’s ankles tightly, flipping her over as she flopped back unmovingly, and eyes staring in almost horror up at him at his aggressive motion, before he reached out and tugged the once bubbly and giggling brunette up towards him by the throat.

“You are going to make this fun for me. You are going to remember you’re scared but you are going to enjoy yourself. You are not going to be a quiet complacent dolly.” He Whispered harshly, leaning in to bite rather than kiss at her bottom lip sharply, tugging backwards when he felt the tiniest whimper come out from beneath his hand. Gray used his other hand to stroke the girl’s hair back from her face, a bloodthirsty, angry sneer crossing over his face as he looked down at her. She was going to get to live before, but now he wasn’t too sure as the need to work out both his angry, frustration and the sexual desire from before bubbled underneath his surface. “You are going to make me happy, and you are only going to scream in pleasure, regardless of what I do to you.”

The girl’s head nodded as much as it could, her eyes softening a little but still holding the fear and exhilaration from before in equal measures as the shadow pushed her back onto the bed, before the brunette let out a breathy moan as he went back to her neck. It would be a long night, but Mother help him, he was going to forget all about that phone call by the end of it - one way or another.

—

29th of December

It wasn’t the first time she had found him there.

The park was a beautiful spot - large amounts of green space, private pathways and benches that had views over the city that during the summer months was a lovely place to relax - and even with the thin layer of mud on the ground, it was just as nice as usual. It was a close location to the little house, with a very easy walk away for the dog to make in order to run around like the happy pup that she was - and Shada made her way towards the park bench near the exuberant dog running about in the mud, sitting down beside the other with a quiet sigh.

“Hey, thought I might find you here.” The girl said as she sank into the spot beside her brother. “You taking a breather from Cupcake’s family?”

“Thought you liked them,” The other replied as Grey turned slightly in his seat with a smile towards her, his closest arm going up across the back of the bench near her. “I know at least two of them made a good impression.”

Shada felt herself flushing a little at that comment from the other, shifting a little to slide across closer to him as the wind picked up. “Perhaps they did. I didn’t know that-”

“Hunters could actually be alright?” The other cut over, and as the brunette looked out the corner she knew that there was a very faint smile on his face that Shada found herself mimicking all the same as she tugged her scarf tighter around her at the bite of the wind, careful not to dislodge the silver chain around her neck. The words weren’t quite what she would have said, the shadow thought as she felt her cheeks growing redder from not just the wind chill, but not ready to admit to the words being not inaccurate at all.

The oldest hunter - Bobby - had seemed off-putting and gruff when she had first arrived, and over lunch she had picked up several concerning thoughts about both the shadows and the blonde hunter alike. At one point her brother had gotten up to get some more apple sauce, and touched Joanna’s hair on his way past - and Shada had picked up a disapproving rush from the hunter about it along a thought of ‘careful, be careful, don’t trust it’ which had set her teeth on edge. There were thoughts about protecting the blonde or that her brother was too close or other times when a flood of concern would wash off of the hunter over some small comment here or there from any of the three hunters - towards all three humans equally. She hadn’t liked him off of he bat, and as the afternoon had dragged until the hunter had apologized to her for something as simple and insignificant and out of his control as not having a gift for her. That he’d thought to even say it had smoothed down some of the rough edges she saw in him. And then he’d given her brother the photos - and as soon as Grey whispered quietly to her who it was - she had felt any ill-givings towards the older man disappear, the void filling up with affection for him instead.

The youngest but tallest (something Shada had found endlessly amusing watching the older brother attempt to boss the other about while the tall one rolled his eyes a lot), Sam had felt very similar to her brother’s cupcake almost immediately upon her meeting him. He had a nice smile, and he seemed very sweet from the moment he first opened a dialogue and greeted her with a Merry Christmas and then was genuinely complimentary to her brother throughout the whole meal. He was so very very quiet though, much like the blonde, and Shada had had more trouble gleaning his thoughts from him compared to the other two hunters. What she could feel though was no judgement or concerns about being around her or her brother, and his genuine interest in asking about herself made her feel so sad he wasn’t anywhere near as cute as his brother.

The very very cute hunter however was a whole different kettle of fish to the other two though - his thoughts practically screamed out from him throughout the whole lunch, and Shada could barely contain herself from snapping at him regularly throughout the meal. He was so rude to her brother and his cupcake - a dozen and a half thoughts about Grey had flooded out from him throughout the meal that had made Shada grit her teeth and wonder just how her brother managed to sit nearby that amount of antagonistic thoughts that just bled out of the hunter; and then he had the gall to check out the blonde, and it had taken Grey’s hand coming down and squeezing her knee under the table to keep her from making a comment aloud about it. But gosh he was so cute - and even if he had some negative thoughts, Shada had felt herself sighing at him giving her brother a gift right alongside the other hunters. So cute and so flawed.

“They aren’t all bad, I’ll give you that.” She replied with a small smile, tilting her head in to rest on the other’s shoulder as he gave a shout out to the dog about not chasing the birds that it paid no heed to, with a happy dog lollop. “I mean, Cupcake’s family is pretty nice over all.”

“Yeah, they... Sam is fantastic-” “He is very tall. And nice.” “Of course that’s what you noticed.” “He’s not the only thing I noticed.” “Shada...”

“What?!” Shada let out a sharp objection, frowning up at her brother playfully as she twirled on the ends of a strand of her hair. “Sam was nice and very sweet, and Bobby - it was Bobby, right? - he just..” The girl let out a sigh, not sure exactly the best words to describe how quickly the older man had weaved his way into her affection. “He’s lovely too.”

“Mhmm. He definitely has improved since I first met him.” Grey replied, one hand reaching up to rub at his shoulder thoughtfully but with nothing but appreciation on his face talking about the other. “And he’s practically a dad for Jo, so, his worry is absolutely understandable-”

“Why does he worry so much?” “Well, because I’m a monster, Shada.” “What does that matter to him if Cupcake doesn’t care?” “He’s like her dad-” “But he was seemingly with our Alpha-” “Eleanor.”

“Yes, Eleanor.” Shada practically sighed the name out, cuddling into the other’s side as she thought about what a pretty name their Alpha had chosen to utelise, and watching as the big, fluffy dog ran about and came near them again - calmer with her now over the last year - with a happy bark. The name felt so right for the older shadow to have chosen, and that she had gotten to see just how pretty and sweet the face she had taken made her stomach twist weirdly. “He was... connected to her, so why does it matter what you and Cupcake get up to to him?”

“He cares, Shada. And also Jo has.. Jo’s been hurt because of what I am bfore.” Her brother replied shakily, his arm shifting from around her shoulders as he talked to lean over his knees and keep his eyes from meeting her own curious gaze. “I’ve caused her pain from me being me, so he worries. But enough about that-” The other shadow let out a breath before slapping his fist down on his knee and turning back to look at her, now that his face was under control and he had a curious yet pleased look on his face forcefully. “What are you doing for the rest of the holidays, sister? Any plans for New Years?”

Shada frowned to herself slightly, brows creased for a moment as she tried to decide if she was going to drop the topic or not, before letting out a quiet laugh. “Oh absolutely! I’m going to be having a New Year in every time zone!”

“What?” “Humans use time zones, right? So I am going to every single celebration all over the world I can.” “Wh...why would you do that?” “Why not? Plus! They kiss as the hour changes, right?” “Oh Shada, no-”

“So! I’m going to have a kiss for every midnight and have the best luck all year round!” The brunette finished chirpily, smiling widely as she looked at the somewhat pained or frustrated expression on the other’s face - a smirk growing in her smiles place as she fluttered her lashes at him teasingly. “Why? You think I couldn’t get a kiss in every place?”

“I... Don’t think that will be a problem at all for you.” Grey replied with an exasperated sounding laugh, rubbing a hand over his face a bit before letting out a normal sounding laugh as the dog came bounding over with the pink dog toy from their sister in her jowls. “I wish you luck on it then, Shada. But you know, you could just hang out with some people you like instead-”

“Oh like you and cupcake aren’t going to be doing the horizontal tango when the clock strikes midnight - doesn’t really sound like my jam, brother.” The girl replied with a laugh of her own as her brother’s cheeks flushed a little bit, hands reaching out and grabbing the dog’s collar and clipping on the pink lead as well. Shada found herself smiling softly noticing how quickly their sister’s gifts had been introduced to her brother’s life - and as he stood, Shada followed his movements with a teasing grin. “And if you’re not, then perhaps I’ll drop by for my good luck kiss from you for this time zone, hmm? Think Cupcake would be okay with that, or should I choose her instead?”

“You can ask Jo which she’d prefer.” Grey replied with a laugh, wrapping his arm around her shoulders which the shadow felt was the best kind of feeling being so close and at ease with him like they always used to be. “Speaking of Jo - did you want to come around? I know she’d be happy to see you again.”

“Sure thing! I still need to thank her again for the shoes!” Shada said with a smile, tucking her hands into her coat’s pockets as they started on their way along towards the others home - a warm feeling as the dog lolled about them that she was being led towards what might always be a warm welcome for her, no matter how far she traveled.

---

#fic #cc #ca #graypov #shadapov

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those70scomics · 6 years ago

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Links to the Rest of the Story: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Outline for the End

Disclaimer: That '70s Show copyright The Carsey-Werner Company, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, LLC.

CHAPTER THREE THE TRAPEZOID

Eric hummed Rundgren's “I Don't Want to Tie You Down” while brushing his teeth. He hadn't won tickets this morning to the concert, and his next opportunity wouldn't be until he got home from school. But those tickets would be his, as would Donna's kiss. “Right here,” he said and tapped his Crest-coated lips. “Confident about that, are you?” The angel's reflection appeared beside Eric's in a burst of light, and Eric spat toothpaste onto the bathroom mirror. “Would you stop doing that?” Eric said. He grabbed a towel, wiped his mouth, and cleaned off the mirror. “What if I was peeing or something?”

The angel waved his hand dismissively. “Pshaw. We angels are dispassionate where human anatomy is concerned. Remember that time when your fly got stuck in Old Maine's bathroom, and you prayed for it to zip up?” Eric's stomach clenched. “Oh, God.”

“Precisely.” The angel smiled that smug smirk of his. “You've got six days left to get that kiss from Donna, or—” “Our relationship is over forever. You don't have to remind me.”

Eric washed his hands and left the bathroom. The angel went with him to his bedroom, but Eric had to get dressed for school. He searched his closet for the right outfit, one that would show Donna his sophisticated and sensitive side. He had a particular shirt in mind, but he couldn't find it. “The button-down one,” the angel said, “white with a coral-orange pattern?” Eric nodded. “That's the one.” “Donna bought you that shirt in ninth grade.” “Damn!” He chose a different dress shirt and grabbed his khaki pants. The angel was looking at him, and Eric's neck heated up. “Could you at least turn around?” “As you wish.” The angel faced Eric's bed while Eric got dressed. “But you won't avoid Donna's gaze so easily.” “Good!” Eric kicked off his pajama bottoms and pulled on the khakis. “I want her to see me, need her to. In my real life — my other life — she stopped.” “Are you sure about that?” Eric inhaled deeply through his nose. “Yeah, or my promise ring would be on her finger, and I wouldn't be here.” He began unbuttoning his pajama top. From the poster on his closet door, Farrah Fawcett seemed to be staring at him, but all he saw was Donna inside his mind. “But our connection must exist across the universe or something. I felt it on the driveway last night, and she did, too. Why else would she have told me about her parents?” “Yes,” the angel said, full of condescension, “you've made quite the impression on her already.” Eric's skin prickled, and he fumbled with the buttons of his dress shirt. “What do you mean by that? Did I come across as too nerdy? Does she need to see more of my rebellious side?” The angel turned from the bed. “Eric—” “No, wait. Should I cut my first classes at school and get a tattoo? Am I supposed to be — I don't know — more like Steven Tyler?” Or, maybe, more like Steven Hyde. “I wasn't … I didn't take chances.” His throat closed up. His dress-shirt was buttoned completely wrong, and he yanked it open, popping off some of the buttons. “Donna and Hyde are the reason I'm able to stand up for myself,” he said, voice cracking. “They're the reason I'm not a total duck.” The angel sighed. “You live and die by your own choices, Eric. Donna and Hyde might've influenced you, supported you, but every choice you make is your own.” He circled his finger in the air, and the buttons of Eric's dress shirt reattached themselves. The shirt buttoned itself up, and the collar adjusted itself around Eric's neck.

Eric's eyes widened. “You can use the Force!” “If you want a different reaction to your decisions,” the angel said, “make different ones — but they still have to be choices true to your heart, Eric.” “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Eric gestured to himself. “Can't you use your powers to give me some muscle? I mean, look at this!” He flexed his biceps. “Do you see anything? Because I sure don't.” The angel pressed a hand to his generous stomach and laughed. “You have other strengths. Use them.” Eric plunked down on the bed. “Strengths...” He tugged on a pair of socks. “Any hints about which ones I should use?” But the angel had left, and Eric slapped the top of his bed. Cryptic help was worse than no help at all. “'Make different choices,'” he said, mocking the angel’s advice. “'You have other strengths...'” He dug his hand through his hair. Whatever those strengths were, they hadn't kept him from losing Donna in his other life. To win her in this one, he needed to be stronger.

Eric chose a desk and dropped his backpack beside it. Spanish III was his first class of the day. He was the first student to arrive, but he remained standing in case Donna showed up. She took French in his other life. He had no reason to believe she’d do differently in this life, but he focused on the door as the room filled up. A pair of gigglers, Emily and Denise, entered and took desks at the back. They were followed by Jimmy Headgear, Buddy Morgan — whom Eric waved to — and Kelso, with Fez right behind him. “You!” Kelso shouted, pointing in Eric's direction. Eric pressed a hand to his chest and mouthed, “Me?” Kelso barreled forward and shoved him into the wall. Eric's shoulder bumped into a framed map of Spain, but Fez caught the map before it crashed to the floor. “A little to the right, Kelso,” Fez said. Kelso moved Eric to the right but kept him pinned against the wall. “Why are you hitting on my girl?” “Trust me, Kelso,” Eric said with a laugh, “I have no interest whatsoever in Jackie.” “Huh?” Kelso glanced at Fez, who was replacing the map on the wall. “Maybe he is gay,” Fez said. Kelso's eyes narrowed, and he gave Eric another shove. “So you want me for yourself?” “No,” Eric said. “But if I were gay, which I'm not, I'd go for Buddy Morgan.” He jutted his chin in Buddy's direction. Buddy had taken the desk left of his. “He's smart and nice and funny — and he's got a cool as hell Trans Am. Yeah, I'd definitely pick him over you—” Kelso gasped indignantly, and his hands sprang off Eric's arms. Fez, meanwhile, slid into the seat to Buddy's left. “Hello, Buddy,” Fez said. “Or do you prefer Mr. Morgan?” Mr. Soto, the Spanish teacher, stepped into the classroom. Eric rushed to his desk, and Kelso sat at the one to his right. “If you're not into Jackie,” Kelso whispered, “then why'd you tell her all those things about me?” Eric didn't answer. He rummaged in his backpack and pulled out a big bag of M&Ms. “Buddy, mind passing these to Fez?” “No problem.” Buddy took the M&Ms and gave them to Fez. “For me?” Fez said, and his face brightened. “Mr. Morgan, I think I — I think I love you.” “Thanks? ” Buddy flicked his eyes toward Eric. “But they're not from me. They're from Eric.” Fez ripped open the bag. “Who?” “Junior from Janesville,” Eric said. “I'm fulfilling my part of our deal from yesterday, even though you completely failed at upholding your part.” “Oh, yes.” Fez crammed a fistful of M&Ms into his mouth. “Mfddd awud.” An ear-stabbing screech ended all chatter in the classroom. Mr. Soto had scratched his fingernails on the chalkboard. The nails on his right hand were long because of his guitar playing, and he used them to his advantage. “There will be no extraneous discussion in my class,” he said, “unless it's in Spanish. ¿Entendido?” “Sí, Señor Soto,” everyone said back. Mr. Soto started class, opening with the story about his summer. He told it in Spanish, and the first time Eric heard it — in his other life—he'd understood less than half. This time, however, he understood most of it. Mr. Soto must've noticed because his gaze returned to Eric's often. Kelso tapped Eric's shoulder when Mr. Soto talked about breaking a guitar string. His band had been on a tour of Southwestern bars, and Eric wanted to hear about it, but Kelso whispered, “Why? Why did you tell Jackie I—” “Mister Kelso,” Mr. Soto said in Spanish, “do you want your parents to receive a student-alert form?” “What?” Kelso said. Mr. Soto's finger zipped across his lips. “Shut it.” . Kelso quit whispering, but that didn't keep him from writing Eric notes. He passed Eric tiny, folded-up wads of paper. They resembled dry spit balls more than notes, and by the end of class, Eric's desk was covered in paper scribbled with, “Why?” and “WHY?” and “¿Por qué?” He scooped the notes into the garbage can. Whatever happened between Kelso and Jackie wasn't his problem. But Kelso stayed on his heels and stopped him in the hallway. “She broke up with me, you know that?” Kelso said. “And I never even got to do it with her!” “Okay, let's say Jackie hadn't dumped you,” Eric said, “would you turn down Pam Macy if she offered to make out with you?” Kelso grinned, as if he were kissing Pam Macy right there. “No.” “And that's why I told Jackie what I did.” “You've made out with Pam Macy?” Kelso shouted, and Eric winced at the volume of his voice. “You've only been here a day! I've been trying for two years!” Eric pushed past him. Kelso's idiocy was headache-inducing, but Eric's task wasn't to smarten him up. It was to earn Donna's kiss. Three flights down, in the science lab, Mrs. Bridges took attendance for homeroom. Eric hid in the back, behind the farthest workstation. Having homeroom with Hyde could lead to trouble, maybe even a black eye. In this life, Eric didn't have Hyde's loyalty. Kelso did. “Eric Forman?” Mrs. Bridges said. “Here!” Eric said from behind the workstation. “Who said that?” Mrs. Bridges said. Damn. He had to risk showing himself, and he rose to his feet. Hyde was standing by Mrs. Bridges, but he strode toward Eric after Eric reconfirmed his presence. “Forman,” Hyde said and clasped Eric's shoulder. Eric braced himself for pain, but Hyde's grip was friendly. “You really burned Kelso, man. Telling Jackie all that crap about him — don't know why you did it, but thanks.” His hand fell from Eric's shoulder, and Eric held his breath. Hyde’s eyes weren't visible behind his sunglasses. He could’ve been setting Eric up. but Hyde said, “You ended the whole 'Jackie Experience'. I owe you one.” Eric exhaled and leaned against the workstation. “Well, I know Kelso's type. Where I come from, people like him can't keep it in their pants.” “You don't know crap.” Hyde's jaw visibly tensed. “You don't know Kelso, so I wouldn't be makin' assumptions if I were you.” “But Jackie believing these 'assumptions' is okay as long as it gets you what you want?” Hyde shrugged, but the tension had clearly spread to his shoulders. “Lying to Jackie, who cares? But Kelso's no cheater, all right?” “How do you know?” Eric said and stood up straight. Hyde's loyalty to Kelso was blinding him to the truth. “Jackie is Kelso's first girlfriend, right? So how do you know he's not a cheater?” Hyde's temple twitched, but after a moment he rested his arm on the workstation and laughed. “I get it. You're sweet on Jackie.” “No!” Eric shook his head and tried to keep from gagging. “I'm — no!” “Here's a piece of advice, Forman...” Hyde slipped his arm around Eric's shoulders. “You've been here less than two days. Get to know people before makin' assumptions about 'em.” He half-guided, half-dragged Eric toward the door. “Kelso's a moron, but he's a good guy. And Jackie might be cute, but behind those big brown eyes is a man-eating dragon. Watch yourself.” He released Eric and patted him hard on the back. “Thanks for the warning,” Eric said as the sting spread across his skin, but Hyde dashed into the hallway. “What about Donna?” Eric called after him Hyde slowed his pace. “What about Donna?” “What's she like?” “Off-limits,” Hyde said and kept on walking.

Eric thought he understood his friends. Even if they didn't know him, he should've been an expert in talking to them. He'd spent his whole life — his whole other life — doing that. But in this one, they reacted in unexpected ways to what he did. Mainly, they kept threatening him, and Fez was no exception. During third-period English, Fez whispered, “Jackie Burkhart is mine.” To emphasize his point, he bit into an M&M and slammed the uneaten half onto Eric's desk. “This is what will happen to you if you talk to her again … unless it's to keep her away from Kelso. That is acceptable.” Fez snatched the uneaten half-M&M and popped it into his mouth, but Eric didn't care about Jackie. Especially not the one here. She was a means to an end, but she was getting in the way of that end. Surely, though, Donna would appreciate what he'd done. Jackie and Kelso breaking up was his gift to her. Eric held onto that thought on the way to trigonometry, but Fez beat him there. By the time Eric arrived, Donna was surrounded by Fez, Hyde and other students. Eric had no access to her. During class, Hyde intercepted the notes he tried to pass, and Donna ignored Eric when the school bell rang. She walked right by him without even a glance. She was angry. Had to be. But if he could explain himself, if they could talk, she'd understand his motives. He'd tried to protect Jackie from heartbreak, to liberate Donna from Jackie's obnoxious presence. He repeated this potential conversation to himself during music class. Fortunately, Mr. Campbell's lesson on Beethoven gave Eric the space to think. All Donna had to do was understand his perspective. She'd witnessed Kelso ogling Pam Macy yesterday, same as him. She had to see that Eric was acting from a good intent. Or she could continue to ignore him. She didn’t wave him over in the cafeteria, no invitation to sit with her. Eric wandered the tables with his bologna sandwich and cup of apple juice, but sitting with the jocks and cheerleaders — not in any life. Other tables were occupied by groups of friends he wasn't part of, and he resigned himself to eating alone. In a corner of the cafeteria. Without a seat. Until Buddy Morgan spotted him. “Eric. Hey, Eric! Over here!” Buddy patted his table. It was crowded with popular kids, people Eric had barely spoken to in his other life. But Buddy gestured to the guy sitting across from him, Justin Something — Eric didn't know his last name — and Justin picked up his tray and found another place to sit. Eric sat in Justin's vacated seat. He and Buddy were at the center of the table, surrounded on both sides by guys and girls. Conversations were loud and fast, but Buddy's presence put some kind of force field around him. No one tried to get Buddy's attention as he welcomed Eric to the table. “Thanks,” Eric said, but he couldn't settle in. He and Buddy weren't friends yet. They'd been friendly to each other in chemistry class, but that was it. “You do know I don't belong here, right?” He forced a smile and indicated the kids at the table. “Where I come from, I wasn't one of them.” “You belong here because I want you here.” Buddy sipped his water. “Anyway, you're new. You can be whoever the hell you want.” “If only, Buddy. If only.” Eric bit into his bologna sandwich and chewed slowly. The bread was gluey, and the meat was sour — he wasn’t sure it was even bologna. “I know the food here isn't five-star,” Buddy said, scooping rice onto his fork, “but you don't have to look so miserable. You're making me want to buy you balloons to cheer you up.” A girl at the table giggled. The laugh was piercing and disruptive, but she was sitting far enough away that Eric dismissed her. She wasn't spying on his discussion with Buddy. No one seemed to be. The guys on either side of Buddy were angled away from him, same as the guy and girl sandwiching Eric. Buddy commanded a social power Eric didn't understand and would never have. “Sorry,” Eric mumbled. “I'm just … I'm in a very difficult situation.” Buddy's eyebrows rose. “'Situation,' huh?” “Yeah.” Eric examined his sandwich, peeking between the bread and the meat. It appeared safe enough, but without Hyde's insider info, he couldn't be sure. “I've lost a lot. You know, by moving away from my friends. And I'm trying to make a life here, but maybe I'm not smart enough.” “Come on. You're plenty smart. You're acing chemistry two days in.” Buddy chuckled. “It's pissing me off.” “I seem to have a knack for that, pissing off the people I like.” Buddy swallowed a mouthful of rice with an audible gulp. “You like me?” “As a friend, as a friend,” Eric said. “I'm not—” gay, but he couldn't say that here. In Eric's other life, Buddy had shared that part about himself privately. Talking about it openly, at the popular kids' table, might cause Buddy trouble. “I mean, I'm fine with you being … liking who you like,” Eric went on. “Why wouldn't I be? This is a progressive world, and I'm a progressive guy—” “Eric, stop.” Buddy clasped his hands together, as if in prayer. “For the love of God, please stop — and tell me what's really going on. You keep staring back at that table.” He meant Donna's table. Eric did keep staring at it .. at her. “I'm crazy. ” “Why, because you like the redhead?” “Because I...” Eric took another bite of his sandwich. Buddy would never believe his story, that an angel sent him to an alternate version of his life. Eric hardly believed it himself, but every second he spent here, the more real and dire the consequences felt. “How would you show someone who you really are?” Buddy grinned. “I'd kiss that someone.” Eric laughed and stifled himself with his apple juice. Kissing Donna would solve all his problems, but the kiss had to be mutual. He couldn't just pucker up and shove his lips against her mouth. “But apparently I didn't have to do that with you,” Buddy said. “You knew from the get-go I … what kind of person I dig.” He rubbed his chin, and his gaze drifted somewhere Eric didn't follow. “How exactly did you know?” “I have a really good friend back in my — back in Janesville. You remind me of him.” Buddy's cheeks flushed. “Really?” “Yup.” “Could you maybe give me this friend's number?” “Would if I could, but this person's already … occupied.” Eric flinched at his lie. He hated being so deceptive, but he had little choice. “Looks like the redhead's 'occupied,' too.” Buddy gestured to Donna's table. Hyde's arm was around her shoulders, and she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she was laughing like he'd just made a joke. Like she was his girlfriend.

Eric had study hall after lunch. It would be his best chance to speak to Donna, and he waited in the cafeteria to give her a head start. She wouldn't avoid him in study hall. He'd do whatever he could to get her to listen — even if it meant her yelling at him first — but Jackie accosted him in the second floor hallway.

She dug her nails into his wrist and dragged him to the make-out alcove. It was a hollowed-out part of the wall, and glass covered the outside, giving a view of the lobby below. It was the most interesting architectural feature of the school and the last place Eric ever wanted to be with Jackie. “Listen, you,” she said. “Michael swears he'd never cheat on me.” “That's what cheaters do,” Eric said. “They lie.” He tried to leave, but she dug her nails deeper his wrist. “Ow! I think you're drawing blood.” “Oh, I will if you don't give me proof that Michael's a dirty dog.”

“Donna,” he blurted as Jackie’s nails cut into his skin. He pried her hand off him, but she grabbed his ear before he could escape the alcove. Her shorter height meant his head was positioned at a painful angle. “Ask her about history class yesterday! She saw what I saw!” “I did ask her. She says she's staying out of it.” “But she didn't deny Kelso was looking at Pam Macy.” “No...” She let go of him. “But she didn’t confirm it, either.” “Look,” he said and massaged his sore neck, “you can date Kelso, but I guarantee you'll end up heart-broken.” She stuck out her bottom lip. “But Michael's so beautiful!” He slumped back against the alcove. Donna had kept Kelso's infidelity a secret in his other life, but that was after she and Jackie had become friends. In this life, Donna wasn’t afraid of hurting Jackie. She should've spoken up. “Jackie...” He rubbed his forehead with both hands. “What's the point of being with someone who looks beautiful if he acts ugly?” “You're right!” “I am?” “Yes. Michael is the most beautiful boy I've ever seen....” She patted the center of her chest. “But I have to find out if he'll act ugly when I'm not looking. So you, whatever-your-name-is, are going to help me test him.” “I am?” He glanced at the alcove window. If he crashed through it, would the angel save his life? Or would he grant Eric sweet, sweet death by letting him splatter on the lobby floor? “Here's how it's going to work,” Jackie said. “I'm going to interview him tomorrow, and you will bring Pam Macy to us — after you've convinced her to hit on Michael — to reveal Michael's true soul.” “She'll never go anywhere with me.” “She will, or I'll find out where your dad works and have him fired.” “Don't care.” His dad getting fired in this life was irrelevant. All that mattered in this life was Donna. “But,” he said, “if your dad can score me some tickets to the Rundgren concert this Sunday, I'll help you.” Jackie fluffed her hair. “My dad can easily get tickets to the Todd Grunyon concert.” “Rundgren.” “Whatever. You bring Pam Macy to the art studio tomorrow after school, and I'll get you those tickets.” Eric rapped his knuckles on the alcove window. He was making a deal with the devil, but he'd already made one with an angel. That had to offer him some protection. “Lady,” he said, despite his throat closing up, “you've got it.”

Eric sat in the back of the history classroom, as far from Donna and Kelso as possible. History was the last class of the day, and Donna still hadn't acknowledged him. But trying to talk to her with Kelso present would be a mistake. At least he had all evening and five more days to turn the situation around. He spent the class writing notes, not about the Cold War but today's events. Hyde had put his arm around Donna's shoulders at lunch, but he'd done to same to Eric in homeroom. Eric wouldn't assume. He'd theorize, but he wouldn't assume. The final bell of the day rang, and he waited at his desk until Pam Macy stood up. He followed her out of the classroom and to her locker, at a far enough distance that she didn't notice him. Not until he needed her to. “Pam?” he said as she opened her locker. Her backpack lay at her feet. “Huh?” She faced him, and her expression went flat. “What?” Her shirt was cut low and showed off her cleavage. His gaze trailed down her neck, but he recovered his wits and looked her in the eye. “Pam, hi. I'm Eric. We've never met, but I need to ask you a favor.” She tilted her head, as if scrutinizing him. “Sorry, but I don't do pity sex. You'll have to lose your virginity another way.” She turned back to her locker, and he said, “No, no, no. I'm not a virgin, and I don't want to have sex with you. I just need five minutes of your time tomorrow—” “No pity make-outs, either.” She pulled a fluffy jacket from her locker. Feathers lined the collar, and they tickled Eric's nose as she put the jacket on. “I don't want to make-out with—” He sneezed into his sleeve. “I'm in a little contest. See, me and a bunch of other fellows are trying to find the hottest girl in school. Each of us gets to choose one and bring her to the art studio tomorrow. I choose you ... unless someone else got to you first.” She stepped closer to him, and the feathers of her jacket tickled his nose again. “What's the prize, Sneezy?” “It's—” He sneezed again, this time into the air. Pam smirked. She was messing with him, and it turned him on more than he liked. “What do you want the prize to be?” “You'll do my history homework all year.” “Done.” “That's just for me entering this contest for you.” She rubbed her feathery collar against his neck. “If I win, you'll also do my chemistry homework.” He backed away from her. The warmth of her body was causing him trouble, and he needed to focus. “I can do that, sure. Meet me outside the art studio at the end of school tomorrow.” ��Will do, Sneezy.” She picked up her backpack and shoved it at him. “Carry this to my car.” “Okay...” He followed her down the hallway, but each step brought a different outlook. He was on the winding path to victory. He'd already failed. The alternating perspectives made him dizzy, and he stared at the back of Pam's blond head.

His center of gravity had shifted, but the tightrope beneath his feet wasn't new. He'd been walking it since his first kiss with Donna.

“Good Vibrations” played from Eric's stereo. It was Todd Rundgren's cover of the Beach Boys' song, and Jerry Thunder's deep voice said over the intro, “You know what time it is. Call me for your chance to win tickets to Rundgren's concert in Milwaukee this Sunday.” Pam Macy's history notebook was open on Eric's lap, and his history book lay beside him on his bed. But he stopped doing her homework and thumbed his nose at Jerry's voice. “I don't need your stinkin' tickets. I'm getting my own.” He began writing again, making his handwriting as loopy and girly as he could. More importantly, he tried to put his answers in Pam's voice, adding lots of likes and you knows in places they didn't belong. “The Cold War, like, started after World War II,” he said as he wrote. “It was full of, you know, stress and stuff because the U.S. and the Soviet Union didn't get along.” His pencil bounced off the notebook, leaving a period as its footprint. He might've agreed to do Pam's homework, but he never agreed to get her an A. “I'd say you're getting a D,” the angel said, and Eric flung the pencil into the air. The angel had appeared from nowhere. Eric should’ve been used to it by now, but his heart was pounding.

He got off the bed and searched for his pencil. If he didn't look at the angel, maybe he'd calm down.

“Not even two whole days,” the angel said, “and you have more tangles than Midge Pinciotti's first attempt at knitting.” Eric found the pencil by his dresser and slid it behind his ear. “A D? How could I be getting a D?” “You tell me.” The angel adjusted the cuffs on his white suit jacket. “How could you be getting a D?” “I don't know, unless...” Eric's eyes widened. “Does D stand for Donna?” “Guess again.” “Damn,” Eric said and winced. Cursing around an angel couldn't be healthy for his afterlife prospects. “I mean, darn.” The angel put up a hand. “I don't care what language you use, as long as you aren't trying to hurt someone with it.” Eric inhaled deeply. No hell for cursing around an angel. That was a relief, but it did nothing to stop his confusion. It rolled through his brain like a marble, and he sat back down on the bed. “I've got guaranteed Rundgren tickets from Jackie,” he said. “All I have to do is show Donna my true self, take her to the concert, and get that kiss.” “So you haven't been showing her true self so far?” the angel said. “I've been trying, but she hasn't spoken to me since yesterday.” The angel tapped his chin. “I wonder why that is.” Eric glared at him. “Do you want me to fail?” “You've already failed. I'm giving you a chance to correct your mistakes.” A triple knock rattled Eric's door, and Eric moved past the angel to open it. His mom was standing on the other side and breathing heavily, as if she'd rushed up the stairs. “Eric,” she said, “your friend Donna is here.” She clapped twice and grinned. “Oh, this is so exciting! You have a girlfriend.” “Mom, she isn't — we've only — I gotta go.” Eric raced to the stairs but slowed as he climbed down. His mom's footsteps vibrated behind him, and the angel was nowhere to be seen. Donna, however, stood by the front door. She was cracking her knuckles and glancing around the living room. His palms grew sweaty. She'd come here for him, but she hadn't been in his house before. This place was as new to her as he was. She'd probably rung the doorbell to get inside, and that thought set off hot sparks in his stomach. She should have come in through the basement, but it was empty. It had no history, just like she had no memories of him. He had to change that, starting now. “Donna, hi!” he said at the bottom of the stairs. He tried not to grin like an idiot, but his eyes crinkled, and his eyelashes blurred the edges of his vision. “I'm so glad you came over. I—” His mom clasped his shoulders from behind and pressed her cheek into his. “I'll give you two kids some privacy.” She disappeared into the kitchen, but the swinging door wasn't sound proof. She might put her ear to it and hear his and Donna's conversation. He pointed toward the den. “How about we talk in there?” Donna agreed, and they went to the den. He offered her the armchair, but she remained standing. He stayed on his feet, too, and pressed his heels against the ottoman. She wasn't talking, and his grin grew heavier until it became a frown. “Okay, what did I do?” His tone was familiar, as if he were talking to his girlfriend Donna, not this barely-an-acquaintance Donna. But he couldn't help himself. “If this is about Jackie and Kelso, I—” “Of course it's about Jackie and Kelso!” She slapped the side of her leg, and her cheeks reddened. “What are you doing, spreading rumors about my friend?” “Whoa! Whoa—” He tried to step back, but his foot slipped out from under him. He dropped onto the ottoman and tipped backward, but he caught himself before knocking into the fireplace. “I'm not spreading rumors. I'm protecting Jackie from—” “Kelso's not a cheater.” “Has he ever hit on you?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “None of your business.” “This may be going over the line,” he said and pushed himself off the ottoman, “but you're letting your loyalty blind you.” “I'm...” The redness in her cheeks spread to her neck and forehead. “Who the hell do you think you are? You've 'known’ us for two days!” His right fist clenched. He ached to tell her the truth, that he'd known her since before he could talk, that he loved her. “Let's just say I'm a good judge of character.” “A quick judge of character. What kind of rumors are you gonna spread about me?” “None. Donna, I'd never do that to you.” “Right.” She gazed up at the ceiling when she could have left. She was giving him another chance ... like maybe she felt their connection. His stomach contracted, and he swallowed a bitter laugh. He was such a screw-up. “This is not how I wanted our relationship to start,” he said. “Oh, we have a 'relationship' now?” He coughed, trying to untangle the knot his throat. “ “Friendship. I meant friendship.” “Sorry, but I don't make friends with sociopaths.” She charged from the den. Her hair flew out behind her, and she left the house through the front door. Its slam reverberated the walls and Eric's chest, threatening to crumble him, but he stood tall. Donna had always come back to him. No matter how badly he messed up, she always came back. He just had to correct his mistakes in time.

#That 70s Show #That '70s Show #Eric Forman #Donna Pinciotti #Jackie Burkhart #Fanfic #One Difference: The Angel Offers Eric Another Choice #Eric x Donna #Eric and Donna #Steven Hyde #Fez #Michael Kelso #Kitty Forman

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lovemybluebully · 6 years ago

Text

Let’s Be Lazy

For the Anon who wrote, "Smol idea: Eddie trying to exercise and be fit but Venom gets all huffy about it, wanting to either eat or watch tv, and he tickles him while he's exercising like "Stahp we wanna watch tv! >8\ "

Wow! I only spent about 5 hours on this total when fics usually take me days if not weeks to write. My brain was just spewing all these ideas at me! XD Summary: Eddie is trying to better his mental health by exercising more often. However, his clingy roommate wants him to watch tv instead, and when he refuses the symbiote decides to find a way to get him to change his mind. M/M Tickle Fic Oh jeez, poor Eddie. I had Venom tickle the hell out of him in this one. Sorry, not sorry. XD Here you go, Anon! Hope you guys like it! ^_^ Word Count: 2,385

Again, sorry for the weird spacing. :p

.......................................................................

Eddie's bond with Venom had been a life changing event for him. Before he'd been extremely depressed after losing his job and the woman he loved, but ever since that little symbiote had crawled up inside his skin things surprisingly seemed to have turned around for him.

Now with his job back, and still maintaining a healthy friendship with Anne and her new boyfriend, Dan, he was on the path to living a normal life again. Well, as normal as it could be with having a superpowered alien living inside his body.

His mood still had its ups and downs, but he was trying different things to help relieve his mind of the tension and anxiety. He still tried the meditation techniques that Mrs. Chen had taught him once in awhile, but usually found that his attention span would not allow him to sit still for that long.

Especially with Venom always making some kind of commotion inside his head, usually complaining about his hunger. Eddie had changed his diet, and was eating less take-out and doing more cooking at home, though he'd still heat up the occasional frozen tater tots to appease his parasitic friend. With that he'd also taken to exercising more, taking jogs around the city or doing weights and calisthenics in his apartment.

He found his new routine was having a pleasantly calming effect on his mind, and tried to exercise at least five days out of the week. He was already a strong man, but now he was doing it more for his mental health and not so much for looks, especially now that he didn't have a girlfriend to try to impress.

Tonight followed him in his usual, he had just gotten home from work, and after making sure Venom's hunger was satiated he changed into some looser-fitting pants and a t-shirt as he went over into a corner of his apartment where he had a small weight bench and a yoga mat set out.

He had just sat down on the mat and started doing his stretches, and it wasn't five minutes before Venom was already trying to get his attention.

"Eddie?"

"What is it? Don't you dare say you're hungry again."

"....A little. But can't we just skip this? Let's be lazy, and watch some of that picture box instead."

"You mean the tv? I'm busy right now, bud, but hey, don't let me stop you. Just go watch it by yourself."

"But we want Eddie to watch with us."

"Well then you'll just have to wait," Eddie grunted as he stood up and then laid down on the bench, gripping the bar over his head and starting his chest presses.

"How long will it be?"

"Until I'm done. And it's gonna take a lot longer if you don't-Hey!" He yelped as black tendrils emerged from his arms and assisted him in vigorously pumping the bar up and down.

"We will help, and then you will be done faster!" Venom said cheerfully as his head emerged from Eddie's stomach to give him a pointy-toothed grin. "No, I don't need help! That takes away the whole point of this so stop!"

"But Eddie..."

"I mean it!" "....Fiiiiiiine," Venom pretty much whined as he released his host's arms and began drawing the tendrils towards himself, absentmindedly brushing them down Eddie's sides. The symbiote then felt Eddie tense up; his arms shaking a little to steady the weight of the bar as a giggle trickled out of him. "Heheh, hey careful, you're tickling me!"

Venom had only recently learned about this strange phenomenon that humans could be sensitive to being touched in certain ways, enough to provoke them into laughter. Eddie had tried his best to explain it to him, though even he didn't know the real reason behind it.

He learned it was completely harmless though in terms of doing any physical damage, and much to Eddie's chagrin he had been eager to test out this new knowledge. Ribs, neck, armpits, feet, knees, belly.....all areas that got the desired response of frantic laughter and bodily squirming. In conclusion of it all, he had found that Eddie was one very ticklish human being. "The most ticklish person on the planet" as Anne had claimed, though Venom currently had no other subjects to compare that to. The alien's smile widened as he now had an idea on how he could get Eddie to give up this exercise thing for now and do what he wanted to do; sit on the couch and watch tv while stuffing his face with chocolates and ideally more tater tots. "But Eddie likes the tickles," he smirked, prodding lightly into his ribs as the man's arms trembled in the strain of trying to resist. Eddie admittedly did not like being tickled, though it didn't exactly bother him that much either. Really it depended on the situation, but this definitely was not it. "D-Don't....Don't fucking do that right now! You're gonna make me drop this thing on my head!" Eddie shouted, making Venom pause as he remembered the weighted bar that Eddie was holding a mere twelve inches from his face.

"Ohhhh....ok. Sorry Eddie," he hung his head like a scolded puppy as all the tendrils disappeared back inside Eddie's body. "There's a time and place for that shit! Not when doing it could cause me to get hurt in the process! Do you understand?!"

"We understand."

Venom was surprisingly quiet for the remainder of the time that Eddie spent with the weights, and honestly the journalist began to feel some guilt over the whole thing. Through his time spent with the symbiote, he had found that the little ball of goo could actually be a bit needy at times. He just liked to have Eddie's attention, and always seemed to get noticeably mopey when they weren't doing things together. As he set his dumbbells back on the rack he sighed and softly addressed his friend. "Look, man, I'm sorry I yelled at you. Just give me another fifteen minutes to finish up and take a shower and then I promise we'll watch whatever you want. Alright?"

He waited a few moments, but was met with silence as he shook his head. "Aww, c'mon Venom. Don't be like that," he was feeling even worse now when he still got no response from the symbiote as he got down onto the floor once more to start doing some push ups. As he pushed himself up and down off the floor he began to think of ways that he could possibly make this up to Venom, but he wasn't thinking long before he felt a poke into his right side. "Aagh! Venom! Whahat are you...?!" He realized that Venom wasn't upset with him and had just been waiting for the right moment to sneakily launch an attack on him. Eddie couldn't be upset either, just relieved that they were still on good terms, but he knew Venom was going to use the incident as an excuse to really work him over. "Is now the time and place? Don't see how we could get hurt now," the symbiote tentacles poked playfully at different spots on his sides as Eddie's arms were back to shaking from trying to hold himself up. "Ehehehe, knock it off! Thaahaat's not f...fair! I....can't...." Finally his arms buckled and he crumbled to the floor, pulling them against his sides as he rolled over to try to get the tentacles to stop. They kept at the laughing, wriggling man for a moment until Venom was able to make his next move. He seeped out of Eddie to form into his humanoid shape, and then gently placed his clawed fingers onto Eddie's stomach. "You want exercise, we've heard laughing burns calories," he said with a grin, and then began scribbling said claws over the trembling flesh as Eddie squeaked and tried to squirm away. "N-No! Heeheeheehee! Venom, stohahahop ihihit!"

Eddie was a big-time giggler when it came to being tickled, though he'd usually bust into harder laughter when Venom focused on some of his worst spots.

"You stop it. We want to watch tv," the fingers then crawled up and down his sides, pinching and poking as they went as Eddie thrashed like crazy and tried desperately to push the hands away. "But...Buhuhut I'm ahahalmost dohone! Naahahahaho!! Dahahahon't!!"

No matter how he tried, Eddie just could not keep the strong alien hands out of his armpits, and now he was being tickled out of his mind. He honestly couldn't believe how quickly Venom had picked up on how to tickle someone so effectively. Lucky him. "Well consider this our last work out for the day. Now lets hear that laughter!" "No pleeheeheease! Anythi-heeheeheehee-ng but ti-hi...tickling! Cuhuhut it ouuut!!" His sneakered feet kicked at the symbiote despite knowing it wouldn't be effective, and just ended up getting them stuck in the goo that comprised Venom's side. Venom stopped for a moment and looked down as Eddie tried to tug them loose, and then the big-eyed alien was smirking bigger than ever. "Stuck, hmm?"

He manipulated his body so that Eddie's ankles were now trapped in one of his large hands as he easily plucked the shoes off of his feet. The horrified man was struggling even harder once his socks were ripped away, leaving his bare feet twitching about in the symbiote's grasp. "No wait, c'mon! You've tickled me enough, alright? You win! We'll go watch tv right now!"

"Yes, we will. But first, we think these weird, but sensitive appendages of yours require some attention," he stroked a single finger up the length of one foot as Eddie immediately cackled and jerked hard on his legs again.

"Bahaahaa! No no! They're fine! No attention needed! Just put them down and-Gaahahahahahahaa!! No nohohohohoooo!! Lehehemme gohohohohoo!!"

Hundreds of tiny tendrils had manifested and were tickling over every inch of his feet, including the tops and ankles as well as between all the toes. With the position he was in, and from how hard he was already laughing, Eddie had no chance of being able to sit up and try to defend himself.

All he could do was pound at the floor with his hands and slam his head back against the floor in his frantic state, hoping that Venom would show some mercy. Though he wasn't sure how familiar the symbiote was with that concept.

"Ohoho my Go-hahahahahah-od!! Ahahahahaa hahahahahahaa!! Fuck fuck fuhuhuhuuck, pleeheeheease! I can't...can't taahaake iiiit!!"

Eddie was too damn ticklish on his feet to hold up to a tickle attack on them for very long, but Venom always loved to push him over the edge in whatever situation he could. "Eddie must be burning so many calories right now," the symbiote smiled teasingly, clearing away the tendrils for the moment as his long, slippery tongue swirled briefly over both Eddie's soles. "Staahahaahahahahaaap!! I'm gohahahonna paa-haa....pass ouhouhout!!" He was surprised when Venom complied and set his feet down, though that was only so he could lift Eddie's t-shirt and bend down to give his belly a big, wet raspberry. He had no idea where Venom learned that one. Eddie screeched with a sound from out of this world as he swung an arm and ended up punching Venom right in the head. He wasn't hurt obviously, but still Venom immediately backed off as he gave Eddie a betrayed look.

"You hit us."

Eddie finally was able to sit up as he tried to regain control of his breathing. "I'm...I'm sorry. It wasn't...on purpose. It's an involuntary reaction."

"So you didn't mean it?"

"Of course not, man. It was an accident. Guess I never told you that tickling someone can be a dangerous sport. You should ask Anne about the time I gave her a black eye," Eddie chuckled as he recalled the incident that had all Anne's friends thinking that he was abusive. But after she had explained the whole story they had finally called off the lynch mob. "I see. Well I suppose next time we'll have to make sure you're completely secure," the big alien grinned as Eddie got up and began making his way to the bathroom to shower. "Pfft, you assume there's going to be a next time. Now let me have a little privacy for a couple minutes," Eddie shooed the symbiote out of his body as he got the water running and began tossing his sweaty clothes on the floor. "There will be plenty. It is now part of Eddie's exercise routine," Venom smiled from where he waited just outside the bathroom door, hearing Eddie scoff at his absurd claim as he scrubbed down his body. "Oh hell no, you asshole, this was a one time thing. End of story."

"Pussy," Venom teased with his usual insult as Eddie just shrugged. "Fine. I'm a pussy. Better than being tickled to death by a seven foot tall parasite."

Venom was pretty sure he heard correctly what Eddie had said, but he still had to question it. "....What did you say about us?"

"Uhh, you're seven foot tall?"

The alien shook his head as Eddie stepped out of the shower. "No, the other thing."

"Um.....I'm a pussy?" Eddie continued to play dumb as he toweled off and began to put on some clean clothes, smirking at hearing Venom's low growl. "We heard what you said."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Eddie chuckled as he emerged from the bathroom and allowed the cursing Venom to reconnect with his body before sitting on the couch in front of the television.

Things were finally beginning to settle down as they immersed themselves in the reality show that Venom had been insistent on watching. A fresh pan of tater tots and everything was just about perfect for two bachelors having a night in.

However midway through the show, Eddie blurted out in a deadpan voice, "I called you a parasite, by the way."

"You motherfu-!" Though the next day Eddie couldn't help, but smirk at Venom's bruised eye as the symbiote glared at him out of his good one.

"I told you so. Tickle me, and get fucked up."

And so as time went on Venom got fucked up many more times after that.

#ticklefic #ticklish!eddie #venom #eddie brock #symbiote #fluff #friendship #tickling #my writing #anon asks #tickle fic

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lordendsavior · 7 years ago

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Olly Alexander, the frontman of the British band Years & Years, has blood-red dyed hair. He wears a brass safety pin through one ear and sometimes grins so widely, so wildly, that the edges of his mouth seem to disappear around his narrow, fine-boned face. What soon draws the eye is a scar on his forehead. “I ran into a brick wall as a kid,” the 27-year-old says over lunch at a cafe in London. He touches the scar. “I was playing at being a Power Ranger. Ouch.”

These days, Alexander plays at being a pop star – and on the surface, at least, it seems like a game that’s going well for him. With the launch of their first album in 2015, Years & Years enjoyed a really remarkable few months. They were named BBC Sound of 2015 in January, promptly going to No 1 in the UK singles chart in March, and likewise topping the album chart in July. The band’s propulsive, 90s-nostalgic dance pop (like Disclosure or Clean Bandit, only up the randiness and add a little disco) caught on. And Alexander made a quick Meghan Markle-like ascent to something like pop royalty. “One of the most influential gay pop stars of this generation,” the Gay Times wrote. “All hail the King!”

Years & Years are a three-piece – also made up of keyboard and synth player Emre Türkmen and bassist Mikey Goldsworthy – but it has always been clear that Alexander is the band’s guiding force, their chief lyricist, a Gaga-like taker of risks when he performs and a political voice, off stage, who has an appealing, glitter-speckled sense of activism. A pithy and witty speaker on LGBTQ+ rights, Alexander has also opened up engagingly about his struggles with mental health. “A lifeline to troubled young people,” the Observer wrote of him, in 2016, around the same time that Years & Years played at Glastonbury. There, Alexander wore an oversized choirboy smock strung front and back with rainbow-coloured ribbons – it was Pride weekend – and made a widely admired speech about battling prejudice. “Shove a rainbow in fear’s face,” was how he put it.

Musicians must pray for debuts like this – to come over credible, commercial, with real-world clout. No brick walls clattered into, no obvious “Ouch” moments. Or were there?

Years & Years are almost done on their second album, due this summer, and from the demos I’ve heard the new music admits a brittleness and vulnerability in Alexander that wasn’t so obvious on the 2015 debut. He is still a fabulous and steely man when in pop-star mode (at the photoshoot, he prowls around in heels and a collared lace bodysuit that make him resemble a steampunk, space-bound Queen Elizabeth I), but he cuts a shyer and less certain figure at lunch.

He arrived with a cigarette pushed behind his ear, and smoked it outside with quick, jittery puffs. Now he hunches over a salad, an elbows-in kind of eater and a nervous giggler. Of his pop-mode confidence, he says, “I wish I carried that around with me in my day-to-day life. But I don’t.” He’s wearing a pair of dungarees that he likes, he says, because they feel “like clothes that give you back a hug”.

As Alexander eats, he talks about what happened in the aftermath of that famous Glastonbury performance, once he was out of public sight. The band had been cheered off, a career high. And once backstage, the musician recalls, he sat down and wept. Inconsolable, feeling lower than he’d been in months. “It happens,” he shrugs. “A falling off a cliff. The pendulum swings.”

“When I was younger,” Alexander says, “I thought that if you were famous and successful, it would mean that you just felt happy all the time. That you would become, like, this mystical creature that people just adored. And so you would adore yourself.”

Alexander doesn’t always make eye contact, and he addresses this next bit at the napkin dispenser between us.

“Obviously I realise how ridiculous that sounds. But it wasn’t until our album got to No 1 that I realised I still believed in it. We’d basically won the lottery. I felt like I’d won the lottery. And at the same time I still felt like the same person I’d always been. And all the things that I associated with my depression, and my anxiety, those periods of feeling really low, they were still there. And I was so annoyed at myself. ”

Alexander talks about first discovering the transformative, strengthening power of a good costume. It was on a trip to Disneyland, when he was nine. “The greatest experience of my life up to then,” Alexander says. “The pomp! The whole make-believe nature of that place. It was very powerful for me.People were all wearing costumes, playing characters. It was this other reality where fun things happened, more than they seemed to in real life. And I just remember wanting to be a part of something like that.”

Theme parks were a big feature of his young life. Alexander grew up living next door to them, not one but three, first Alton Towers, then Blackpool Pleasure Beach, then Drayton Manor. His father helped launch and market new rides in these places, and the family moved wherever the work was.

He was born in 1990, the younger of two sons. His mother ran community craft groups. His father, while employed in the theme parks, tended side dreams of being a professional musician. Of his father he says, cautiously: “Quite a difficult man... Definitely not happy within himself.”

Alexander is more explicit about his own early troubles. “I used to have hallucinations and hear voices and stuff as a kid. Which sounds alarming, but it’s just the way it was.” Also: “I had what would now be called sleep paralysis, from six years old until maybe I was 16. Terrifying dreams.”

His parents separated when Alexander was 13, a daunting and confusing period for him. “My dad had been very absent, even when he was there. Then he left the family and moved away. Our relationship, it feels to me, ended when I was 13.” With his mother and brother, Alexander relocated to a sleepy village in Gloucestershire called Coleford.

Part of Alexander’s conversational charm is that he’ll veer between the frank and sober discussion of the self-doubt and difficulty he experienced as a young man, into brilliantly catty and droll little anecdotes about his upbringing. Here he is, describing his first paid employment – a Saturday job in a Coleford shop called Moonstones. “We sold incense, candles, spellbooks. Um, bongs. Chocolates shaped like penises. Everything you’d need really – a one-stop shop.”

He wasn’t a popular teenager, and was bullied at his secondary school in Coleford just as he had been at his old primary schools. He marvels, thinking back, at his response to this. “I started wearing eyeliner to school. Nail varnish. Choker necklaces.” He put on a costume: a counter-intuitive form of self-defence. “I’d been bullied for years and all I wanted was for that to stop. But at the same time I had this sense that I was different, I was weird, and wearing makeup and crazy clothes was my way of trying to find an identity, in the face of people who were going to rip me apart anyway.”

What brought him out of his “goth phase”, as he calls it, was the music. Alexander chuckles. “I could never really get on board with the bands you were supposed to like.” He couldn’t shake the love for pop music he’d developed as a pre-teen, when pop bands would visit the theme parks his dad worked for. “Remember [the Irish pop band] B*Witched? They came to open a ride once. Then Steps – I got all their autographs.” So when it was time for the school talent show, Alexander chose to sing a TLC song. At home he obsessed over Christina Aguilera videos. He was pop through and through, and wanted to be a star in the mould of all these heroes.

Half by accident, he embarked on a different artistic career first. At 16, Alexander auditioned for the Channel 4 drama Skins, and was in talks about a role. The job didn’t materialise until he was well into his 20s, when he was cast as a creepy student photographer, but meanwhile his agent put him up for other stuff. By the time he’d finished his A-levels and moved to London, he was getting varied work – in Gaspar Noé’s Enter The Void and Laura Wade’s The Riot Club and a corporate video for Google, playing a confused consumer who didn’t know how much he needed the advice of a really good search engine. Probably his peak as an actor came in 2012 when he was cast in a Michael Grandage production, Peter And Alice, alongside Judi Dench and Ben Whishaw.

This West End run coincided, in Alexander’s breezy telling, with the busiest period in his romantic career. “Lot of sex.” He had known that he fancied boys from the age of about 10, though the concept of being gay was something only introduced to him via playground insult; he can remember drawing stick figures in a geography textbook, bewildered, trying to figure out how two men could ever even manage it. These days, Alexander says, “my sexuality is part of my music, part of my identity”, but this was a clunky journey in its early phases and it wasn’t until he arrived in London and got into a first relationship, with the brother of a friend, that he felt he could properly come out to those closest to him.

After that – whoosh. “I figured out that I could pull, basically. It wasn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be. I realised that, actually, everyone’s pretty horny, pretty desperate at times, and all you needed to do was maintain eye contact and be confident and that was kind of it.” Since then, he’s sampled romance in many of its forms, being single and shagging a lot, being single and not shagging so much, being in an open relationship, being in a celebrity relationship (with Clean Bandit’s Neil Amin-Smith), being in a quieter relationship with somebody unknown – that was the most recent, and it came to an end about 18 months ago. What has he learned? “That the longer you’re single, the more you notice how everyone else is in a relationship. But that’s a whole other thing.”

He says he finds it harder to pull in clubs without the freedom of anonymity he used to enjoy. “I’m having much less sex than I did in my early 20s, for sure.” He’s tried the hook-up app Grindr, but the men he messaged with wouldn’t believe he was who he said he was. “So that didn’t go very well.” After years of living with flatmates, he recently moved to live on his own, in a flat in east London. “The last few months I’ve been wondering, ‘Will I just be alone, for ever? And would I be OK with that?’ I want to be OK with that.”

Thinking of how ill-informed he felt as a kid, and of the anxiety he might have been spared had he only known more and known better, Alexander has resolved to be a public figure who is as vocal and open about his sexuality as he can be. As soon as he was asked, in an early-career interview for a blog, he said he was gay. (This was actually how his beloved grandmother found out: Alexander hadn’t yet got around to telling her.) Last year, he made a BBC Three documentary, Growing Up Gay, that is still on iPlayer and gets broadcast around the world. “I get messages about it at weird times of night.”

Soon after our lunch, he’s due to give the keynote address at an annual Stonewall event. He hasn’t written his speech yet, and is still toying with points of view he might want to get across: that LGBT-inclusive sex education should be compulsory in schools; that LGBT support groups need more government funding than ever; “that yes, we can get married now, but that’s not the end of the story, that’s not gay rights done.” When the event does take place, Alexander will speak about how, as a young actor who went through media training, he was told it might be best not to speak about his sexuality at all. (“I ignored advice.”)

Alexander made an interesting choice, in 2013, when major labels started showing an interest in Years & Years. He entered therapy, specifically in anticipation of what a frontline music career might do to his fragile emotional state. Polydor were still six months from formally signing them.

He knew fame was coming, though – that early?

No, he says. But if there was a chance of the band making it, however slight, he reasoned he’d better be prepared. “And I’m grateful I made that decision. I’ve been seeing the same therapist through the whole process.” Through the band’s kick-starting anointment as the BBC Sound of 2015, then their smash No 1 single King that spring, then their No 1 album Communion that summer. “To go from zero to 100. To have an idea of what success is, your entire life, and then it happens to you. It’s overwhelming. There’s a lot of noise. And people start talking to you differently.”

Which people?

Alexander laughs, frowns – speaks at the napkins again. He starts talking about his dad, with whom Alexander went through an awkward episode after Years & Years topped the charts. By then, father and son had no relationship to speak of, Alexander says. They hadn’t said a word to each other in seven years. “And, um, my dad started tweeting at me.”

A pause. “It’s hard for me to talk about. It’s a hard issue, because it’s tied up with my family, and also his new family. I want to be respectful.”

He doesn’t sound sure whether his father even knew whether what he was doing was public; but anyway, he messaged him over Twitter, in full view of social media. “And it got really, really messy. There were some Years & Years fans who started tweeting him back, trolling my dad. He was talking back to them. It was a real head-fuck.”

However clumsy the timing and the method, was a part of Alexander gratified that he got in touch?

“The best way I can describe it is that when me and my dad last knew each other, when I was 13 or 14, that’s frozen in time for me,” he says. And back then, he continues, he couldn’t have imagined any better future for himself than becoming a pop star and having his father want to be a part of his life again. “But then he did get in contact with me. And it was then I realised that what that 13-year-old wanted, that wasn’t actually possible. Not any more.”

What did the 13-year-old want?

“I realised that a part of me wanted to be successful in music because my dad wanted to be a musician. That a part of me thought, if I became a musician and I did well, he’d be proud of me. Or he’d, y’know, be so sorry for not being the dad I wanted him to be.”

But that’s not how it felt?

No, he says. When they did come together, Alexander noticed that, “I’d become something that my dad was sort of intimidated by. I’d been wanting to be successful, in part, because I wanted to prove something to him. And when that happened, I realised it didn’t feel good, it just felt like… like I’d tricked somebody.”

Listening to demos from Years & Years’ new album, there’s a sense that fatherhood has been much on Alexander’s mind in the aftermath of this episode. Person-to-person, the musician says, he and his father “have very, very minimal contact” right now. But a dad figure stalks the new work. On one song, Alexander sings about breaking with his DNA. On another, it’s as if karmic retribution is being summoned and directed at a “daddy [who] said I never could win”.

Yeah, he says, his father was foremost in his thoughts when he wrote that one. But he’d been thinking, too, about past relationships, those various boyfriends he’d dumped or been dumped by. Alexander sees a clear thread running through it all, from parental to romantic difficulties. “I guess at its heart it’s just not really being able to trust someone who says they love you. If that’s something that’s ingrained in you, then I think it’s hard to get past that.”

We’re finished with lunch. Having travelled deeper into his psyche than he expected to – “normally I would have these mental conversations alone with myself, in my flat” – Alexander starts to wonder about another cigarette, and pats the pockets of his dungarees. I tell him that, yeah, I can see why he might choose to wear clothes that feel like they hug. He smiles.

Before we stand up and gather our things, he asks to add a couple of “bookends” to what’s been discussed. That he experienced a lot of love and support, growing up, from his mother and grandmother. (“I feel I have to say that: My mother loved me! She tried her best!”) And also that he’s profoundly grateful to music, to his band and their followers, to the rainbow smocks and lace bodysuits and the whole pop palaver, for the release-valve it has offered a troubled mind.

“There’s a lot of quite raw emotion inside me,” Alexander tells me. “Obviously. And most of the time it can only come out in these tiny little cracks. One of those cracks – that’s the music.”

#this is such an amazing read #i cried #i love him so much #btw i didn't know he smokes #olly alexander #a human rainbow

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raindrenchedstories · 7 years ago

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Holly afoot

She shifted the bundle on her back, gazing down deeper and deeper into the cave. “So you say your buddies were dragged over this way?” She glanced back at the young boy clutching his scarf closer to his person.

The child nodded. “Uh-huh. The bogyman took them.” He whimpered.

Holly kicked idly at the entrance of the cave. She glanced down at the child with a sigh. “Did you tell their mommies and daddies?” She tilted her head. The child had been screaming wildly for aid in the woods, until Holly found him.

“No. I-I thought they'd be mad.” He whimpered.

Holly shook her head. “Oh gods no. They won’t be mad. They’ll be scared. All parents are scared when a child goes missing. But they can’t be mad.” She smiled.

“And I’m going to get your little friends back okay? So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to call someone to come take you home. I want you to tell their parents what happened. And that you already got help.” She patted him on the shoulder while texting.

In a very short time, a ring of fire opened up from the ground. A winged man rose from the earth. A long set of horns curling back. It looked as though he’s just walked out of a cafe’. Apron tied around his waist, cream white shirt rolled up ad the bicep, and black dress pants. The logo on the apron read “The growling badger”

“Hey kid. Ready to go home?” The man smiled brightly.

“Are you a demon?” The child lit up. Instantly grabbing the mans wing and staring at it for quite a while.

“Yep. This nice lady summoned me to keep the bogyman away so you get home safe.” He patted the child on the back before shooting the woman a glare. “And she’d BETTER keep her end of the bargain.”

“Yeah yeah. Dinner with the annoyance. Can’t guarantee anything’ll happen but you have fun.” The woman waved him off. Once the boys were gone, she kicked away some of the debris from the mouth of the cave.

Just as she feared. It was something from beyond the rift. Slowly she made her way down into the cave. A sure fire sound made her very soul clench. Giggling. It sounded like it was from a grown man.

Making her way further, she found a ragged creature. Long, curly spines rose from it’s back. Blonde hair grew well past it’s face. It’s nose turned up into a permanent grin.

She could see both children, still safe. But only just. The thing had been feasting on a tender rabbit directly in front of them. The children were both clinging to one another crying.

“Fucking Gigglers.” The woman grumbled as she moved from her position. Startling the creature. “HEY! SHOO! Go on! Piss off!” She threw her shoulders back raising to full height. Making herself look that much bigger.

Generally, these things would scamper off at the sight of an adult. Too much of a risk to fight over a mere morsel. However. This individual apparently missed the memo.

The moment she challenged it, he sprung at her. Claws out. Holly tucked to the left, allowing it to harmlessly sail past. What she didn’t expect, was a second Giggler to lurch at her from nowhere.

It’s claws caught her ribs leaving a stinging series of gashes. She gave a grunt, reaching for the back of it’s neck and attempting to force it away from herself. Just in time for the first one to turn and take a swipe at her face.

Her glasses were knocked from her person, effectively leaving her sight lacking. That said, This wasn’t the first time those things had been knocked off in a fight. Holly glanced over the creatures as they barged against one another. Attempting to be the first to clamber to her.

Not a mated pair then. They worked together. These were probably a set of brothers. And there she was, invading their den. Holly rolled her shoulders, huffing. She could feel the sting from her lovely little gashes, they’d hinder her eventually.

Slowly, she turned so she was in between the children, and the beasts. Casting a glance over her shoulder. Speaking low to the pair. “I want you two to slowly make your way out of the cave. I’ll keep them busy. Run for town and don’t look back.”

She charged the creatures, sending them scampering in opposite directions. They turned on her, pincering her in between them, both her arms shot out in a T position gripping them by the throats. Ignoring the painful sting of their claws tearing the exposed flesh on her arms away systematically.

The moment the children were out. She smirked. “Right. Now. Who’s ready to get their ass beat?” Her arms lost their strength the moment she said that, dangling uselessly now.

“...Oh. There goes that then.” She glanced, unconcerned at the ragged bits of torn limbs. Oh they hurt. Raw pain crept up from her biceps to her shoulders. No matter. She’d patch herself up later.

She forced what was left of the muscle to move. Reeling back the one arm that would work and throwing a sloppy, weakened left hook for the nearest jaw. All of these things had a common weakness. A soft spot under the chin.

The blow landed, but it hardly had enough behind it to do any damage. Fine. Arms were out. And holding the fuckers back was a dumb move. She heaved a sigh. It was down to a kicking match then.

Lucky for her, these two beasts seamed to prefer a four legged stance. As opposed to two. Lashing out wildly with her feet, she found the creatures bounding back yelping. One launched himself at her.

She ducked but only a second too late, it connected at her shoulders. Pinning her to the ground. Holly’s left knee shot up. Slamming the creature in the groin. It let out a gasp. Rolling off her to the side.

She rolled to her belly. Thankful the other one was somewhat distracted. Heading to where the children had been to pull it’s catch elsewhere. When it didn’t find the children it turned on her. Pouncing on her from behind.

She braced a leg forward to support both their weight. Before pushing herself off and backwards, slamming the beast to the ground. The spines along it’s back were forced down onto the nerves they rested over. Knocking the wind from the nasty thing.

Sadly the first had recovered and lunged at her from the left. Her knee came up in a second attempt to disable it. It learned from the last time however, and kept her legs around it’s. Leaving her to drive her knee up and dislodge it from the hip.

She used the motion to straddle the creature. Awkwardly trying to maneuver a leg up to his chest. Once she got it, she pushed herself up, ignoring the clawing and biting it was doing in attempts to dislodge her. She lifted the leg and struck it out. Catching the soft point of the chin, knocking the thing unconscious.

Once that was over with she turned to the other. It cowered back and away from her, snarling in an unsure manner. “Oh no. You’re not getting out of this fucker.” She stalked towards it. Staggering slightly.

Oh she hurt. Her arms were starting to lose feeling, turning into that pinprick sensation just before lack of any input. A dull ache oozed down her leg. Accompanied by the hot feeling of blood pooling against denim. She’d need time to recover after this.

The creature turned tail and attempted to flee. She darted after it. Raming her hip into it’s shoulder and throwing a few wild kicks. One connected with the sweet spot. Leaving the monster helpless. She stood between them, contemplating.

Should she execute them now? Sell them to some handler so they can be useful to this world? Or take them to the family breeding facility and give them a shot as hunting companions?

Decisions decisions. And not enough time to make them. With a huff, she turned the brothers over with a foot. One could tell a lot about a Gordylide from it’s scars.

Gigglers were the lowest, most disgusting form of the Gordylide species. The only ones that preyed on their own kind. Particularly offspring. In that knowledge, she was hesitant to keep either.

Staring at the first brother. The one she’d initially seen. She could find patterns of scars lining it’s form. Marring it as a conflictive being. She sneered. This one would have picked a fight without it’s brother there. As there were many scars from adults on it’s chest and shoulders.

Pressing her foot on it’s neck, she applied steady pressure, before harshly applying her full weight in rhythms. Until she finally felt something crush under her foot. She’d have her demon friend come back and finish it off if the job wasn’t fully done later.

The second one, she eyed just as carefully. He lay still. Most of his scars were located on his rump and lower back. He was more the type to flee any conflict. More over, he was fairly clean of scars. In front.

He did bare several bite marks from what she guessed was his sibling. Some looked as though they were attempts to devour the sibling. She glowered, giving it another kick to the jaw. Preforming a series of awkward jumps, she managed to dislodge a crystal from her bodice and catch it in her teeth.

With an awkward series of mouth drawings, the beast was covered in spell patterns. Activating the moment she spat the charm out and spoke the trigger word. His form shimmered and vanished to the breeding Facility.

Finally, she lowered herself against the cave wall, huffing. She brought her knee up close enough to bite at her jeans and expose her ankle. A rune drawn on it’s surface lit up the moment it touched open air. “Henry’s place.” She sighed.

The same magic that transported the tame brother flickered over her form and dropped her directly into the decorative floor of Henry’s foyer.

The Vampire eyed her in surprise before folding his arms. “Really now. That’s my best rug.” He groaned.

“I’ll pay for the dry cleaning. The fuck are you doing up? It’s the middle of the day!”

A lower class demon ducked his head, leaving the building quite awkwardly as she spoke. The woman quirked a brow. “Henry~”

“Shut up. Or I will let you bleed out.” He replied, scooping her into his arms and heading for the stairs.

#Holly #Poorly described gore #Vampire #Demon #origional species

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askmicrowaveayem · 7 years ago

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Boink! The Gaster Brothers Pt. 21

[Previous]

[Archive] [Cast]

Before he could grab his brother to maybe wrestle him and win this time, their mother called from the house that breakfast was ready. Dings shoved Rage a little to get a headstart before running back to the house.

It really was like they were kids again.

Rage stumbled and scrambled right back up again, racing after his brother.

“No fair!” he said, but laughed as he tumbled back into the house, grinning.

Dings swerved around his father as he lumbered to his seat, crashing down into his own and quickly sitting up like a good little boy. Vrinda looked at them both. “... Well it’s nice to know neither of you have grown up at all.” She smiled.

Rage sat down much more primly, sticking his ‘nose’ in the air and huffing.

“I am very mature compared to him.”

Treb laughed silently across the table from him. Vrinda just shook her head, smiling.

Dings would go about eating, not quite as fervently as the night before, but still packing away much more than usual.

“Do you need anything done around the house?” He asked eventually after swallowing a mouthful.

Rage perked up as his brother asked, glancing between his two parents and listening readily.

“We’ll help out if you need us to,” he said. “Anything.”

Basically anything.

The two shared a glance before Treb signed one-handedly; ‘You two should be taking it easy.’

Dings glanced at his brother, then back to Treb. “We wanna help out.”

He wanted to do normal things again, even if for a little while.

Treb sighed as much as he was able, ‘Alright, if you want. I can think of some things that need doing around the farm.’

Rage nodded, grinning a little. “Okay. Sounds good.”

He’d missed helping his dad out. He hadn’t done it much, admittedly--he was much more experienced with housework and usually ended up helping Vrinda with her chores, but he’d still managed to get outside some and help Treb as a teenager, even if it was just with things like caring for the mules or fixing up the wagon.

Everyone would eat breakfast just like they had so many years ago and then help wash up before Treb would give them a few tasks around the house - just small things like yard work and odd jobs that he hadn’t gotten around to. Dings went right to work with his brother. Repairing a few boards in the chicken coop, replacing the straw. Fixing some of the fences on the pigsty.

Rage scrubbed the kitchen floor and wiped down the table. Helped rake the manure onto the little garden that was surviving. Scrubbing things took more effort now that he could only feel the fatigue in his shoulders and his arms were heavier than usual, but he did it all the same, relaxing into the task and almost feeling like the last six years had only been a bad dream.

While Dings worked outside a group of children had been walking down the road.

They stopped to watch.

They started asking questions, their little voices heard from inside the house.

“Are you one of The Gaster Brothers?” “Do you live here?” “What’s wrong with your arms?” Dings ignored all of them.

Rage heard them from inside the house, sticking his head out the window and spying the children.

He blinked a little, surprised.

Why were there kids swarming around his brother?

…

He set down his rag and headed outside, walking over to Dings and asking, “....why are kids swarming around you?”

Dings signed a quick ‘help me’, looking like he wished he was a turtle and could just crawl into a bucket somewhere and hide forever. “Are YOU one of the Gaster Brothers?” One asked Rage.

Rage laughed at his brother’s expression and signing, then glanced back down the the kids, grin wide, a glint in his eye.

“And what if I am?”

A few of the kids looked at one another nervously, one leaning over to another and whispering ‘he probably isn’t’.

“You attack humans, right?” The child asked.

“Yep,” Rage said, bending down to their level, letting his arms flop out over his knees, still grinning. “Sure do. My favorite passtime.”

“Cool!”

“I still don’t think it’s them.”

“Are your arms really made of metal?”

“Does it look like they’re made of metal?” Rage asked, still grinning. “I mean, you can see for yourself, can’t you?”

He lifted one of his hands, curling and uncurling each finger in a row, letting the children get a nice up-close look at it.

“My brother made it for me.”

Ooos and aaahs spread across the children, some leaning in close while others kept their distance.

“Is he your brother?” One asked, pointing at Dings as he continued working behind Rage.

“He sure is,” Rage said, winking at the kid. “Isn’t he cool?”

Dings made an embarrassed mumbled from behind his teeth. “He’s cooler with the armor on.”

“What’s wrong with his arms?”

“Hm? What do you mean?” Rage asked, glancing back at his brother, looking at his arms. “Oh! The runes? Those are to help his magic be more powerful. But yeah, his armor’s pretty cool I guess.”

“He doesn’t look scary at all without the armor.”

“Are you sure you’re the Gaster Brothers? You don’t look tough at all.” One said, narrowing their eyes.

“We’re not scary all the time,” Rage said, mock surprise in his tone, “What? You want us to prove we’re the Gaster brothers?”

There was a near unanimous ‘yeah!’

Rage snickered.

“Okay, sure. How do we prove it so you’ll believe us?”

“Go kill some humans!” Came one ridiculous request. “Show us the scary armor!”

“Be scary and tough!”

“I can’t kill humans if there aren’t any around!” Rage said, fully open to killing humans in front of monster children. “And Dings finally got out of his armor. Let him rest. I can show you my magic, though. Is that scary enough?”

“Yeah!” One said, while others chattered about what little they had been told about the Gaster Brother’s magic.

Rage grinned and silently summoned one of his blasters, letting it hover over his shoulder before slowly floating down to the kid’s level, its teeth sharp but not glowing for once.

More loud oohs and aahs, some of them shoving others out of the way to get a good look at it. --

Rage laughed.

“Is this proof enough?”

He considered a moment.

“Toss a rock in the air. I bet I can hit it.”

There were mixed answers.

“I guess so.”

“Yeah!”

They all scrambled to find a rock, but the fastest one jumped up and down first, yelling “I got one!”

Then they turned, tossing it into the air.

The blaster spat out a blast of pure magic, hitting the rock mid-air and blowing it into dust.

Another collection of excited squeals.

A moment later and the house door flung open, Vrinda standing in the doorway and looking out shocked.

She frowned, “Rage Gaster!”

The blast was enough to scare her into thinking something was happening outside with her boys. She was thankful there wasn’t but understandably a bit angry that she had been scared into thinking that in the first place.

Rage flinched down, turning with wide eyes and looking maybe a little bit terrified. He was still surrounded by a small swarm of children.

“....sorry….” he said, hoping she could hear. “...they wanted to see?”

Vrinda just narrowed her eye sockets and slipped back into the door. At least now she knew what was going on.

“Hah.” Dings said, the first words around the children all morning. “Golden child gettin’ in trouble.”

Rage glared at Dings, “Shut up, you’re still a babybones who’s not even allowed to say bad words.”

A few of the kids stared up at Dings, enthralled with him finally speaking.

That was all they got though, Dings turning and going right back to work after a roll of his eye lights.

“Wait, are YOU the older one?” One child asked, pointing at Rage.

“...yeah,” Rage said, mildly offended they hadn’t already know that. “He’s my baby brother by, like… what, six years?”

“But you’re so much shorter!”

Dings laughed.

Rage looked petulant. “It’s not my fault he’s a giant! Besides, I’m still stronger than him.”

“Rude.” Dings looked back at his brother.

“You don’t look stronger.” One said, eyes narrowing.

Rage rolled his eyes, “Oh, sure, tell the guy he doesn’t look stronger because he’s short. Didn’t your parents ever teach you manners?”

He pouted at the kid.

There were a few giggles, one sticking out their tongue at Rage. “Is this where you grew up?”

Rage pouted at all of the gigglers before turning to most recent one brave enough to ask a question.

“Nah, we grew up way far away from here. Back farther south I think.”

“You think?” One asked, raising a brow.

“It’s been half a decade and I’m not fully sure where we are right now,” Rage said, raising his hand to flick that kid’s head. “Give me a break. I’ve been hiding out in a camp all week waiting for the rain to stop, I can be excused for being a little foggy.”

The kid yelped a little and held the spot that had been flicked, a few of the kids laughing at him.

One in particular seemed a little more interested in Dings working behind him. “Hey! Do you really have three eyes?”

Dings twitched a little but kept on working without saying anything.

“Does it matter if he does?” Rage asked, chin in hand, sounding curious. “I think it’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah it does!”

“So he does have three eyes?”

“Let me see!”

“Yeah, I wanna see!”

Rage turned, grinning a little.

“Diiiiiings,” he said.

Dings slowly turned, glaring daggers at his brother. A few of the children cowered a little behind the fence they stood by.

Rage pouted up at him, but resigned, turning back to the kids. “Nah, sorry, you don’t get to see it. But it is pretty cool, you know. He got it because he made his eyesight so good, he couldn’t keep it to just two eyes, you know? I’ve never heard of anyone else able to do that.”

The kids started to whine.

“Come on!”

“I wanna see!”

“It sounds cool!”

Dings stopped what he was doing.

Motherfuckingshitpissdammitfuck.

He walked over to them and yanked off his headscarf, the third eye looking down at them along with the other two.

“Oh, don’t be whiny, you already got to see his face, so--”

He blinked up at his brother when the headscarf was yanked off.

The kids were stunned into silence, huddling around each other, most of them appearing to shocked and frozen to move.

Dings stared them down, eyes narrowed and waiting for them to scream or run away or something just like the last people who had seen it did.

After a moment, one of the children began to sway wide. First to the left. Then to the right. Trying to see if the eye would follow her.

All three eyes followed her, left and right, back and forth.

… He tried hard to stay looking annoyed.

The little girl began to giggle. Loudly.

Rage covered his mouth, trying to hide a grin.

Dings tried really, really hard not to grin too.

A tiny smile managed to spread across his face before he turned to go back to work, not putting the headscarf back on. He shoved it into his pocket instead, the eye nestled in the hole in his head spinning around to keep looking at them even though his back was turned like it had been all that time before, just now it could be seen.

Rage let his hand drop as he turned back to the kids, letting his grin be seen.

“Satisfied?”

“Yeah!”

“That’s so cool!”

Another waved at the eye, grinning as it followed his hand even though Dings wasn’t turned towards him.

Rage laughed at their enthusiasm, grinning widely. “Dings doesn’t like to show it much because he’s secretly really shy. So you all should count yourselves very, very lucky he showed you at all.”

The eye light grew and Dings grabbed the scarf, tossing it at the back of his brother’s head in embarrassment. He stayed turned away and was thankful he couldn’t blush. Fucking christ he was going to beat the shit out of him later. A few of the kids laughed, “Is that why he wears the armor? Because he’s shyyyy?” They cooed.

Rage laughed and let the scarf hit him, pulling it off his head and holding onto it, but he paused at the latest question. “Oh, no, no, not at all. He wears the armor because the fights we get into are all so dangerous…”

“Oooo…”

“Tell us about them!”

“Hmm,” Rage said, frowning like he was thinking very hard. “I don’t know if I should tell you. Your parents might be upset that I told you about such scary things as humans…”

“Humans aren’t scary!”

“Yeah they are!”

“You’re totally scared of humans, don’t lie.”

A few of them shoved at each other playfully.

Rage looked around thoughtfully.

“How many of you have ever met a human?”

“I have!”

“No you haven’t!”

“I really have, honest! I saw one walking down the road towards that way by himself.” The child pointed in a direction while the others argued that he totally didn’t see that.

Dings finished what he was doing and picked up his scarf before settling in beside Rage, sitting on a bale of hay beside him.

Rage paused a little, distracted at the news, and leaned in close. “You saw a human here?”

“Yeah, like, a week ago!” The child said, pointing further away from the village down towards one of the side roads.

He looked over at his brother, frowning slightly, before looking back at the child. “Did anyone else see? Anyone we can ask more to?”

The child shook his head. “I was out playing alone. It looked like they might be moving.”

A few more chimed in their doubts that he hadn’t seen anything, but Dings shared his brother’s look. “Should we head that way soon?”

Rage nodded.

They had their next destination. Maybe they should even move that was as soon as tonight, if they could return to Vrinda’s farm afterwards.

He turned back to the kids, adopting his lighter tone again.

“Humans don’t look like much, but they’re really dangerous. Don’t go after them alone.”

He lowered his voice and glanced around, almost conspiratory. “You want to know how I lost these arms?”

The children all nodded eagerly.

“It was months and months ago,” Rage said, leaning in close, arms moving along slowly as he spoke. “I was on the front lines and I’d been separated from my brother. The humans were waiting for us to get lost, hiding in the trees and in the bushes… See, we monsters, we’d been winning battles left and right. Taking strongholds and freeing villages. The humans were angry. They wanted revenge. And so they took it out on my battalion--”

Rage launched into one of his stories, embellishing heavily on what may have truly happened.

A bitter human general. A handful of stalwart survivors. His brother not knowing where he was or that he was even in need of rescue, and Rage knowing he had to bide his time until news reached him.

“...and the General said to me, ‘you’re too dangerous to have around,’” he growled, a false mimicry of the man they’d bled out months ago. “And he turned to his guards and had them bring out a hatchet…”

The children listened, each one of them deathly silent throughout the story. A few of them gripped the edge of the fence, their little faces hiding behind the wood as the story unfolded in front of them.

Dings listened too. This wasn’t a story Rage had ever told him since they had lived it. It wasn’t as fun as he was embellishing now, but it was nice to hear a tall-tale version.

… When had their lives become a fairy tale?

Rage didn’t have any problem telling this story, not like he thought he would’ve. It tumbled out as easily as any of his stories about knights or princesses or clever-third-children.

Maybe because it was heroic. The story he was telling now. It was heroic.

The reality was anything but.

As rapt as the children might have been, to Rage it was… more like just another story that happened to have his name in it.

“Chop! Chop! Over and over. It took them three strikes to get my first arm off. The second was even worse. And I summoned my blaster and fired at him until the only way they could hold me down was to keep me in a place where no magic even worked at all…”

He continued until Dings’ gallant arrival. His bravely-prepared prosthetics already easily made.

They rode off to continue their journey together, never to be separated again.

Dings shifted a little as his brother talked about losing his arms. He knew it probably wasn’t quite like that, but… that only meant it was probably worse.

He still listened, but turned and messed with some of the hay he sat on to distract from it all.

The children were silent as it ended, only making small murmurs among themselves once they realized it was finished.

He grinned down at them.

“Now run on home. Your parents will start wondering where you are, soon. You all don’t go anywhere near humans, now, understand?”

He tapped one of his arms, grinning, for emphasis.

A few protested, “But we wanna hear more stories!”

“Then you’ll have to come back tomorrow, won’t you?” Rage said. “Bring requests. I’ll see what stories I can tell you.”

Excited mumbles carried out through the small crowd of children as they started to disperse. A few waved as they left, shouting back at them.

“Bye Gaster Brothers!”

“Get those humans for us!”

Rage waved back. “Bye! Take care, you crazy kids!”

He kept grinning once they were gone, feeling a little more energetic than he was used to.

Dings watched them leave, eyes trailing after them.

“... Thanks for saving me.” He grinned, pulling the headscarf from his pocket to tie it back on.

He was confused for a long moment, blinking at Dings, before realizing his brother wasn’t talking about being saved like Rage had been talking about for the last half hour--being saved from the prison--but about getting the kids to leave him be.

“Ha,” he said, grinning immediately as he figured it out. “Don’t thank me just yet. They’ll be back again tomorrow.”

He grinned a little, “But then I’m prepared and can hide.”

A pause.

Dings put his hands over his face, embarrassed. “Fucking hell I am shy.”

Rage laughed louder. “Wait, you didn’t know that!? Yeah, you’re fucking shy!”

“No!” Dings glared, but was smiling. “I didn’t think it was me being shy! Fuck, I just don’t like talking to people!”

The years in the military he only had Rage, then only Tybalt, who was social and hung around others his own age, but did come check on him from time to time and made sure he was alright. After that had been Grillby, but their friendship was a lot of silence most of the time. Not that he hated that, but… perhaps in another life he would have been more flamboyant in his affections towards him.

Not this one.

“Books are easier than this shit. I don’t know how you do it.”

“People are interesting!” Rage said, grinning back. “And they’re fun to be around! They’re all so different. It’s just entertaining to be around them?”

As long as he had Dings around, he would be fine, but he couldn’t really deny how much better he felt after having a conversation with someone, or even just being in the same area as lots of other people.

He just liked having people around. He didn��t even have to really engage with them, honestly. They just… were nice to have around.

“I don’t know how you keep up. People make me tired and nervous. Too much to look at. Too much detail.” He waved a hand dismissively, perhaps alluding to some of the problems with his eye for the first time.

He never complained about it or even talked about what it did at length.

Dings slipped from the hay bale and began to gather the supplies from earlier.

Rage frowned a little, following his brother and helping gather supplies. “Has it always been like that for you?”

“No, crowds didn’t bother me as a kid.” He said, having done fine running through the village and talking to strangers back when he could mostly sign to them.

“And single people?” Rage asked. “I didn’t like crowds as a kid; too many chances for thieves. But I liked when only a handful of people would come up and talk to me. They were always good distractions.”

Some were even outright nice.

“I got a little nervous, but…” Dings shrugged, “It didn’t bother me too much. Just sort of lost that along the way, I guess.”

Rage nodded, shrugging. “Being able to see every ugly hair on their face probably isn’t helping with that, huh.”

He laughed, “Yeah, probably. But it’s fine.”

Dings didn’t want his brother to worry.

He carried the supplies to the barn.

For now, Rage let him get away with that.

There were other things to discuss, anyway.

“So. A human around here?”

“... Yeah.” Dings said, setting a few extra boards against the wall of the shed. He turned to look at Rage. “What do you want to do? Track them down? The kid said they saw them a week ago. That means they have a week headstart.”

“I want to know if they’re still around, or if they left a trace of themselves,” Rage said. “A single human passing through the area? I doubt it.”

“... A scout?” Dings suggested, frowning.

“Maybe,” Rage said, frowning back. “In which case… we might be seeing a lot more humans than I’d ever care for here.”

He glanced out at their mother’s house.

He wouldn’t let them ruin this new home for her.

Dings followed his brother’s gaze and his frown deepened.

“... Should we check it out tonight?”

Rage nodded.

“Better now than let it sneak up on us.”

#undertale #RP log #wartime #mayem #the gaster brothers #BOINK!#rage #dings #vrinda #trebuchet #dismemberment

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rosyredlipstick · 8 years ago

Text

sellin’ little bottles of love potion number nine pt. 2

An update thats been long delayed. Can anyone guess everyone’s outfits? Enjoy the Conchell!

A few young girls - Hermes, he’s guessing from the curl in their hair and the mischief in their eyes - approached the counter, their own superhero costumes flashy and brightly colored.

Lacey’s cheeks flushed as red as her flowery dress. “Hey Alice.”

The Hermes girl grinned, trademark mischief glinting in her eye, and waved at Lacey from over her shoulder. Her Kamala Khan costume was surprisingly well done, and she twisted her long red scarf around her arm as she eyed Lacey with interest. Lacey, stuttering through her sentences the entire time the girls were at the counter, only grew a shade darker as Alice blew her a kiss as she left.

Stefan, an always helpful sideliner, beat his head against the counter in frustration.

Mitchell slid his hand under Stefan’s forehead, not even looking over at his mess of a brother or mess of a flirting sister. Not like he could say much considering the beginning of he and Connor’s relationship, but still.

“Lacey’s got a cruuuuush!” Sophia sang out once the girls were completely out of earshot, grinning widely behind an opened pamphlet. Piper snorted at that, filling another few bags to replace the ones taken.

“She’s perfect.” Lacey only sighed, “She’s so funny and adventurous and beautiful and I love her.”

Mitchell groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t go after a Hermes kid, Lacey, they’re only trouble and surprise.”

“Aren’t you like, totally in love with Connor though?” Stefan questioned, fixing his already thin purple vest to expose more of his bare chest.

“Yeah, aren’t you like, totally in love with Connor or something?” Mitchell spun around, a grin already blooming across his face. He jumped forward, his arms already reaching around the other boy’s neck. “Connor! You’re here!”

“Of course I’m here.” His hands went around Mitchell’s waist, pulling him in tight for a hug. “I kind of run the place, in case you haven’t heard.”

Mitchell grinned, playfully pushing him away. He immediately contradicted his action by pulling the other boy close right after.

“And you are…” Connor nodded approvingly, “Peter Pan. I approve.”

“Travis said you would.” Mitchell agreed, his wrists still hanging off the other boy’s neck. “And Captain America. Never knew I was so patriotic until this moment.”

Sebastian’s laugh was low behind him, and Mitchell had to take a moment to remind himself he was in front of his family.

“Hermes is Marvel.” Connor explained, shrugging, and they both ignored Asher’s Which is technically Disney!

“So.” Connor gave him a small grin, and Mitchell wanted to kiss it right off of him. And other things. “Sex-ed booth? In the camp store? And you’re getting away with it?”

“You bet your hot ass we are!” Stefan grinned, flicking a pack of lube over at them. Piper rolled her eyes at him - mostly affectionate - and caught Connor’s eye. She was smoothing one of the dental dam packets over the counter before slipping it into one of the bags, speaking clearly.

“Some kids live at camp their whole lives.” Piper shrugged, “It’s important that they - including others who don’t have access to this kind of education - are informed.”

“You get a lil’ gift bag.” Lacey informed him, “Absolutely full of condoms. Want one?”

“Sure.” Connor shrugged, “Got any red, white, and blue?”

Lacey peeked inside one of the bags, “I got neon pink and a few glow in the dark ones in here.”

“Perfect.” Connor grinned, “I’m sure my company will be very pleased.”

Mitchell let out a wobbly sigh, digging his tongue into his cheek to keep his comments to himself.

“Maybe we should get out of here.” He grinned, letting his allure affect the other boy. Not that he needed to use much, no, but it was always fun to see the other boy’s cheeks redden and glow at the use.

Connor was nodding before Mitchell could finish his sentence, “Yes. Yes. I completely, totally, a thousand percent agree.”

“Do you wanna -”

One of the older Hermes girls jogged up to the both of them, breathing heavily and calling their attention towards her. “Connor! We’ve been looking for you everywhere! Something’s totally wrong with the chocolate fountains, and the cotton candy machine is jamming up, not to mention….”

Connor, under his hands, was only growing tenser with each of her words. Mitchell sighed, pecking the other boy softly on the cheek, hiding his disappointment carefully. His thumb swept over the other boy’s cheek, smoothing out the regretful frown on Connor’s face. “Go. We’ll catch up later.”

Connor shot him a grateful, but sorry, look. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

“Go, save the party of the year.” Mitchell gave him a soft smile, pulling away before he could do something ridiculous, like attach himself octopus-like to the other boy. He was feeling especially clingy today, and he didn’t even mind this fact.

He sighed, watching Connor being pulled away in the other direction by his many responsibilities.

He turned back to his siblings, annoyed by their heavy stares. “I’m gonna go mope in our cabin now.” He informed them, turning on his heel. Sure, he was being a bit petty, but hell was it bad to crave more than two minutes with his boyfriend?

He threw himself on his cot, immediately thankful for the comfortable reminder of his true home. His favorite blanket was already spread across the sheets, and he was unsure which of his siblings were to thank for that. His costume was probably getting wrinkled, and he could nearly hear Scarlett’s horrified screech at that, but he despite that he continued to curl into his sheets.

He vaguely heard someone shuffle through the door, and he prayed it was a pitiful soul who wouldn’t bother him. He wanted to wallow in quiet.

His cot began to creak under the increased weight on the side, and he felt a weight lean into his side. He resisted the urge to groan in irritation. He pried open an eyelid, only vaguely surprised to see his older sister leaning over him, a small frown in place.

“What are you doing.” She asked, her voice not even a question.

He resisted the urge to bury his face into his pillow, knowing his makeup would only swear across the fabric and his skin. “Moping. Leave me alone.”

“Why.”

Mitchell sighed, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I just thought we’d be able to have some alone time before the party. Just...talk. I knew he’d be busy, but I forgot how it went.” Mitchell sighed, bringing his arm back down to his side. “The tragedy of having an amazing boyfriend is having to share him with everyone else.”

It was quiet for a moment, and Mitchell vaguely hoped that Drew would take that as her queue to leave. But, as the world scarcely took his hopes to action, she only sighed and leaned in closer.

Drew pulled on his arm. “C’mon, the Hermes kids found an ice cream truck.”

Mitchell paused at that, his disappointment dashed in favor of wide eyes. He allowed himself to be pulled up, staring at her in confusion. “They...found an ice cream truck?”

Drew popped her gum at him. “Don’t ask too many questions or Chiron is obligated to take it away. Now c’mon.”

Mitchell observed her for a moment, her fluffing her faux fur spotted coat and black and white wig in the mirror, ignoring his stare.

“You've gotten better.” He told her, his voice soft but unsurprised. “You're kinder.”

Her face wrinkled into a look of disgust, her red lipstick sneering along at him. “Don't insult me.”

Her remark was essentially ruined by Sabrina’s high pitched squeal as the younger girl came crashing into Drew's side, smooching her face into Drew's heavy fur coat.

Drew’s hand came to rest on the back of Sabrina’s head automatically, along with a warning glare shot in Mitchell’s direction.

Mitchell help up his hands in surrender, turning his head to hide his wide grin that threatened to emerge.

“Let’s go, little one.” Drew balanced Sabrina on her hip, brushing her lips over the other girl’s giggling face. She shot a look towards Mitchell, “I’m talking to you as well, little one.”

Mitchell rolled his eyes, “Four months!” He blew air up into his bangs, “You’re older by four months!”

She grinned at that, mostly hidden behind Sabrina’s head. “Four months is still four months. And I am wiser than you by far more.”

He followed her out, fixing his sash on his way out. As much as he wanted to sit in his sadness a moment ago, it wasn’t really the way to spend a holiday. He should be soaking in his sibling's company, enjoying Stefan’s sass, Micah’s eye rolls and Lacey and Sophia’s shared laughter. Also, ice cream.

Sabrina was going on about the kind of ice cream she wanted - an orange creamsicle, apparently - when they paused in their tracks, a bit shocked, a bit hysterical, completely amused at the sight that met them.

Chiron stared at them, a runny ice cream drumstick dripping down his knuckles. “Children.” He stated, his voice stiff.

“Chiron.” They greeted, their voices neutral and free from emotion. All except Sabrina’s, who voice was laced with a soft giggle.

“I will be going now.” He told them, looking away from them. “I will be...going now.” He began walking away, ignoring the soft giggles that escaped from Sabrina, and half-turned towards them. “If anyone shall inquire to this event….I do not approve of the alleged thief of the truck.”

“Of course not,” Mitchell agreed smoothly. “We’re all well-aware.”

Chiron nodded his head, “Good...good.” He turned, walking slowly back to the Big House.

They managed to save their laughter until their camp leader was out of sight, and then they were gone.

Drew was giggling like Mitchell had never seen, like she always tried to hide. Sabrina, always the giggler, was beaming with this shared experience, glowing at the rare sound of her idolized sister’s loose laugh.

Mitchell snored on his laughter. “I just, this is amazing.” He shook his head, beginning to walk again. “That was perfect.”

Sabrina, still giggling, was hanging off Drew as always, and beamed when they came into the sight of their siblings. Asher, near the back of the crowd, waved at them as they drew near.

“C’mon matey, the party’s starting.” Asher cocked his head, his wig going a bit off. Mitchell cracked a smile at that, fixing it for his brother. Asher nodded in thanks, leading them both towards the increasing music, and disappeared into the crowd, probably to find his own source of ice cream. Mitchell, trusting the random Demeter boy, took a strawberry cone for himself.

He managed to find a more empty piece of land, a few of his siblings lingering around. Drew disappeared, on the search for a tub of lemon ice cream – her secret pleasure.

“Mitchell!” Piper’s voice yelled right before she was crashing into his side, her arms tight around his waist. “I didn’t get to properly say hello earlier, how are you?”

Mitchell laughed a bit, careful to keep his ice cream cone from smearing all over her. “It’s good to see you, Piper.” He told her sincerely, “It’s has been great, I love California.”

Piper pulled away, grinning as she did so. “Living in the mortal world with Sebastian, huh? How’s that going?”

Mitchell groaned playfully, “I love him, I do.” He began, Piper erupting into laughter already. “But I swear to the gods if that boy doesn’t stop flirting with every pair of legs that walks by I will shoot an arrow through him.”

A voice spoke up, interrupting the end of his sentence. “Don’t worry, I get enough arrows shoved through me to keep me happy.” Sebastian walked by, his hips a sway, his voice a breeze.

Piper started crackling over Mitchell’s groan as he covered his eyes.

“I hate you!” He called after his brother.

“See you at home, darling!” Seb shouted back, smirking, as he turned to grin at some faintly smiling Athena girl.

Mitchell sighed, rolling his eyes, and hoped to the gods his brother was being safe.

“Who’s running the booth?” Mitchell asked, changing the subject and turning back to Piper. He took a large bite of his strawberry cone. Damn, he loved ice cream, and damn did he deserve it.

“Stefan and Valentina are running it until 7, and then we’ll leave the pamphlets and gift bags on a table so we can all enjoy the party.” She swept her hair over her shoulder, making a face at a stray leaf caught in the thick locks. She sighed, “I hate wearing it loose. It just gets...everywhere.”

“Try some of Scarlett’s product.” He advised, tipping his cone at her. “Scarlett’s got the thickest hair ever; her product will keep anything from catching in it.”

She nodded, looking thoughtful. “I just might.” She smoothed the tan fabric over her legs, messing with her blue jeweled necklace for a moment.

“How’s Jason doing?” Mitchell took a bite of his cone, enjoying the taste. The cone was always his favorite part.

She nodded, lighting up with the mention of her infamous boyfriend. “He’s making good process with the minor gods cabins - he just finished the Nyx and Hemera cabins. Annabeth’s been helping design them, they look great.”

Mitchell hummed, Annabeth’s many forced Greek history lessons coming back to him. “Night and daylight, huh? They must look cool. I’ll have to stop by.”

She nodded in excitement, looking ready to continue on, before Sabrina was pulling onto the bottom of her baggy pants and giving Piper a significant look.

Piper shot him an apologetic look. “I promised to take Sabrina to one of the trick of treating events the Hermes kids set up. I’ll see you before you leave?” She asked, her voice a bit hopeful.

Mitchell nodded, “Definitely.” He said, meaning it. Piper had gotten so much better at dividing her time up with her siblings, and Mitchell was kind of stupidly proud of her.

Sabrina waved at him as she climbed onto Piper’s back, both of them wearing matching blinding grins as she raced off towards the cabins. Mitchell waved them disappear, the glow in his chest a familiar feeling around his siblings.

He finished his ice cream and wandered around, watching and absorbing the festive around him. The Demeter cabin was helping caramelize apples, and their single booth alone was successful in filling nearly the entire camp with a heavily fragrance. Some Hermes kids were bent behind the counter he noticed, probably trying to steal some caramel for questionable purposes, and they waved at Mitchell as he passed.

“Hey.” A voice, deep and familiar in the best ways possible, whispered in his voice, and a pair of warm arms were circling themselves around his bare waist.

A bubble of warmth immediately flared up in Mitchell’s chest. He turned, his hand coming up to cup the other boy’s cheek as it rested on his shoulder. “Hey yourself.”

Mitchell turned in the embrace, so incredibly grateful to see Connor’s face, a bit tired, grinning back at him. “You’re dirty.” He observed, tracing the trail of dirt down the other boy’s face.

Connor wiggled his eyebrows. “I’m always dirty for you, sweetheart.”

Mitchell bit down a laugh at that, grinning and delighted at his boyfriend.

“Sorry about that.” Connor tipped his forehead against the other boy’s, letting his long curls brush against Mitchell’s nose in the movement.

“You had to leave.” Mitchell shrugged, “It happens. You’ll have to make it up for me in other ways, I guess.”

“I can’t do a lot about it.” His fingers traced across Mitchell’s chest, catching on his sash. “But I can do one thing.”

He said this leaning in, brushing his lips across Mitchell’s earlobe. Mitchell’s breath hitched, his own hands coming up to twist in the Connor’s curls, and he was so incredibly thankful for the fact of their isolation. “Yeah? What can you do?” And Mitchell’s words were barely that, more breath than sound.

Connor paused for a moment, his mouth hovering dangerously close to the pale skin on Mitchell’s neck. “I can go get you some punch, that’s what I can do.”

Mitchell froze as Connor pulled away, the absence of the other boy’s heat so sudden that he shivered. “Wait, what?” He was still for a moment before a blush began to climb its way up his chest, “Connor, what?”

Connor’s only answer was his loud, trailing laughter, which, okay, wasn’t a bad answer at all.

Mitchell huffed, a little embarrassed, mostly red. He threw himself down on the nearest log, thankful the area around them was mostly deserted and pouted until Connor was back, still laughing about the entire situation.

“I hate you.” Mitchell swore, taking the colorful cup for himself. He took a hesitate sniff. Watermelon, his favorite. He tried to hide the impressed look he wanted to shoot Connor.

“It’s Watermelon.” Connor told him, a bit smug. “Your favorite.”

“Is this spiked? Mitchell asked, swishing the liquid around in his cup.

“‘Course not.” Connor answered, relaxing next to him on the log. He paused, “Why? You want some?”

Mitchell shoved his shoulder into Connor’s chest, no real force behind the movement. “You just want to get me tipsy.”

Connor raised an eyebrow, considering. “You’re very...demanding once you’ve had a few.”

Mitchell ducked his head, red climbing up his exposed chest. “Shut up.”

He laughed, giving Mitchell a look as he wiggled his eyebrows. “Hey, you’re the one who ripped my shirt last time. Just sayin’. I wouldn’t be against it.”

On queue almost, Mitchell’s cheeks burst with a flash of heat, his face no doubt an unflattering shade of tomato. He got loud when he was drunk, and apparently feisty, and neither of these were facts that Connor was never going to let him live down.

Suddenly, just as Mitchell was about to resort with something hilarious and witty, his brother was crouched in front of both of him, grinning.

Sebastian was grinning wickedly at both of them, “We’re putting together a party game to finally get Lacey and that Hermes girl together, you two in? We need warm bodies.”

“What is it with the Aphrodite and Hermes kids?” Mitchell sighed, shooting a playful look towards Connor.

“We’re irresistible.” Connor teased, standing. “Anyways, Alice has been freaking out anytime Lacey looked in her direction for the past two months, this will do us all much good.”

Sebastian smirked at that, “Almost as bad as you were, huh?”

A soft red colored Connor’s cheeks. “I wasn’t that bad.”

Mitchell groaned at that, picking himself off the log and holding out a hand for Connor to take. “You were worst hun.” Mitchell shook his head, “You threw food at me. Multiple times. Solely for attention.”

“I did no such thing and you have no proof.” Connor told him, taking Mitchell’s hand and following him. Sebastian was already few yards ahead of them, apparently bored of their banter and looking for entertainment for tonight.

“Mitchell, just in time.” Scarlett grinned dangerously, flipping her long dark curls over her shoulder. “Go on, sit. We’re about to begin.”

“What are we playing?” Mitchell asked as he pulled Connor down next to him, proud of the low amount of suspicion coming out in his voice.

Her grin was wide and low, “Seven minutes in Olympus, of course.”

They had played a few times before, of course. It worked wonders for getting their own cabin mates together in situations like this. An Aphrodite kid knew what they wanted, and wasn’t usually afraid to go after it.

Connor was snickering into his shoulder as the game began, one of the male Hermes boys getting picked on in the first round, paired with a shy looking Janus girl.

Lacey, cross-legged and wide-eyed, sat next to Sophia, both girls looking excited and whispering back and forth to each other. Mitchell watched them both with a small smile, and remembered when they first met a few years ago, and how worried Mitchell was they wouldn’t get along. Now, as best friends and sisters, Mitchell couldn’t believe he ever felt that way.

Scarlett pulled out a few decoy couples of course – although, as a rule, the couples were always thoughtful matches that they had always thought would be cute together. The Aphrodite cabin was never much for wasted opportunity. Scarlett drew their attention back, her grin wicked and wide as she swirled her hand around the pot. She always liked to make a show of things, especially like this, especially dressed in that outfit.

Scarlett held up the papers, two little scrolls pressed between her too-sharp fingernails. Her purple skirt, gold circles hanging off the fabric, swirled around her legs and bare feet as she walked, drawing out the process as much as possible. When she spoke, her voice was low and filled with glee.

“Will and Mitchell.” She read out, a devil’s grin on her face. Her dancing eyes landed on Mitchell, already rolling his eyes, and he could tell this had been a part of the plan the entire time.

Mitchell sighed, rolling his eyes. “Really Scarlett?”

“What are you talking about, I have nothing to do with the selection process.” She told him, her voice clear of any emotion, but her eyes filled to the brim with laughter. Connor, the traitor, only shook with laughter against Mitchell’s shoulder.

“I’m going to have sex with Will Solace.” Mitchell told him, unimpressed. “It will be amazing and mind-blowing and I’ll be forced to leave you for him.”

“Have fun, babe.” Connor waved, grinning. “Good luck with dealing with Nico.”

Mitchell clicked his tongue, glaring at him and Scarlett with equal emotion. He carefully avoided Nico’s eyesight though, because Mitchell was a weak, weak man.

He and Will were shoved into the now deserted camp store, the shutters down and low lighting in place.

Will, still laughing, leaned against the counter, eyeing Mitchell with amusement. “Your cabin’s doing, I assume?” He held up a condom in between two fingers, laughter in his eyes.

Mitchell huffed out a sigh suspiciously close to a laugh. “They just don’t know when to stop.”

Will took off his mask, his red suit muted in the semi-darkness. “I mean, I’m totally for it. Less STDs I have to treat, the better.”

They both laughed at that, and Mitchell his lip in a considering manner. “You wanna try and pull something?”

Will eyes were already twinkling with mischief. “What’s the plan?”

Mitchell told him quickly, a mental countdown only reminding him of their dwindling time as he explained. Will nodded, a bit excited, and tucked his mask away.

“Nico won’t believe it.” Will stated confidently, ruffling up his hair. He began undoing the zipper to expose his chest, and Mitchell thanked the gods for whatever divine intervention they granted him to experience this moment.

Mitchell nodded, agreeing. “But the others just might.” He told Will, stripping the sash across his waist. He messed up his hair a bit, pinching color into his cheeks, and began biting down on his lip, trying to get it to swell up.

He paused, “Do you think Connor will go for it?”

Mitchell flashed him a grin, “Not unless we don’t give him a reason.” Mitchell pulled a tube out of a hidden pocket, gesturing for Will to draw in closer.

“I’m just gonna smear it a bit…” Mitchell wiped a bit of color across the other boy’s lips, Will as still and compliant as a perfect model. Mitchell grinned, admiring the blush of color across Will’s lips, and the exceptionally nice lipstick now staining both of their lips.

“You should - “ Will gestured to Mitchell’s own lips, and Mitchell nodded. He ran his hand over his lips lightly, grinning at their wit.

“Ready?” Mitchell turned their faces, and knew that if anyone walked in at that moment, they would, for all appearances, be kissing.

Will laughed, causing a whisper of hot breath to brush over Mitchell’s face. Just outside the door, he could hear them loudly counting down the time.

5...4...3...2...1!

They were met with wolf whistles almost immediately as the door opened, and they both faked a stumble out, like they were interrupted.

His sister, eyeing and knowing, only rolled her eyes. “Next!” She called, gesturing to some poor blushing pair of girls. It wasn’t Lacey and Alice, not yet, but Mitchell could see how Scarlett’s eyes kept catching on the pair, and how her fingers combed through the papers. They would be up soon.

Will laughed, bumping their hips together. Mitchell grinned, overdramatically coy. “I’ll see you later, Solace!” He bit his lip, mostly for show and also for the brilliant fact of Will’s retreating zipper.

Mitchell turned back to his seat, enjoying the bright red that was currently covering his boyfriend’s cheeks. It was hard to make a Stoll blush. He was allowed to enjoy it when it happened, it was a fact.

“Jealous much, Stoll?” Mitchell grinned, cocking his hip out as he walked back. Almost immediately, the other boy was on him like an octopus, his hands circling around Mitchell’s waist and chest.

“I know what you’re doing.” Connor’s voice was muffled, his face buried in Mitchell’s neck. “You’re putting out of ton of your love child hormones and you’re driving me crazy.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Mitchell told him, his hand coming up to rest on the back of Connor’s neck. He liked that place, where he could just tangle his fingers with the short curls at the back of his neck.

Connor huffed out a laugh, “Well, you’re shirtless and that’s basically the same thing. Did you get lucky?”

Mitchell buried his face in Connor’s neck, “Considering I’m sitting in the lap of the cutest boy in camp, I would definitely say I got lucky somewhere.”

“Second cutest. I’m the one who managed to snag an Aphrodite kid, after all.” Connor grinned up at him, “Although, you’re right. I am quite a catch.”

Mitchell hummed, resting his cheek in the other boy’s curls. They were gelled back earlier, to better fit the American Dream inspiration he supposed, but they had broken free of the product hours ago. Like the boy himself, his curls were wild and hard to contain.

And, also like the boy himself, Mitchell enjoyed them the most when they were under his hand.

There was a round of squealing laughter from the group, but neither of the boys were paying them any attention.

“When you are leaving?” Connor asked, his voice low. Mitchell noticed he did that, when he was asking questions he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Lowered his voice, because it was always harder to crack that way. It broke his heart a little every time, and Mitchell could report that it still very much did.

Mitchell brought up his other hand to trace the bright star on Connor’s chest with his fingernail. “The portal closes at midnight.”

“Oh.” He only answered, his arm coming up to circle around Mitchell’s shoulder. “I thought...I don’t know.”

Mitchell swallowed, his hand pausing to sprawl across the image on his chest. Connor’s chest rose and fell with heavy weight, and the other boy took a moment to close his eyes, tipping his head closer to the other boy.

He turned his face into Mitchell’s chest, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I could...I can always book a flight.” Mitchell spoke softly, surprising himself. He continued, “I can...I can stay for a bit.”

Connor’s arm tightened around Mitchell, unwilling to let himself hope. “Don’t you have class this week? What about your history test? And that physics project? You’ll miss too much.”

So incredibly touched that he remembered, that he thought of the silly things Mitchell would ramble on about during their Iris messages, he took a moment to bend down and press a dry kiss to the underside of Connor’s throat. He tipped down Connor’s chin, waiting until the other boy showed his brilliant, bright eyes before he spoke.

“I miss you more.” He gave the other boy a small smile. “I’ve got about a year’s worth of absences saved up, and I know for a fact Seb is staying for another few days.” He wanted to shoot a look to where his younger brother was talking up one of the twin Nike counselors - Holly, maybe? - but he didn’t want to pull away from the moment. “I’m staying.” He was sure in that moment, seeing the spark of hope ignite in the other boy’s firework eyes. Mitchell grinned, suddenly so sure of what to say. Of what to do. “I just haven't decided...” Mitchell spoke again, peeking up at him through his eyelashes, “Where am I staying tonight?”

Connor took a deep breath, and even Mitchell could tell how much hope was in that movement. He held out his hand. “I know a place.”

Mitchell grinned, taking his hand. “I look forward to getting the tour.”

“Back from your Walk of Flame, I see.” Sebastian observed, his grin as vicious as a shark. “This’ll be my...second?”

“Of the night?”

“Of course.” He dismissed, turning back to reapply his eyeliner. Looks like he was still planning on a third. Mitchell ran a hand through his greasy hair, wincing at the dried sweat on his skin.

“Walk of ‘flame’?” Valentina questioned quietly, turning to whomever nearest. There were some unnamable demigods passed out on the floor, and Mitchell was sure half of Aphrodite kids were still missing, but that was expected at this hour, on this morning. It was still dark and hardly four, anyways.

Piper sighed, “Scarlett made it up - because she looks, and I quote, ‘radiant as a damn flame’ during her after-sex walk home.”

“I...see.” She accepted quietly, turning back to massage her sore feet. She had a passed out Ron Weasley in her bed, Hogwarts robes with red hair and all, that she seemed to be tending to.

Mitchell sighed, stepping over a barely dressed Demeter boy, and ignored the lingering scent of alcohol in the air. He made his way over to the showers, wanting nothing more than lavender scented soap and steaming water.

“Where’s Sabrina?” He asked, eyeing Piper, a bit surprised she was here. With Jason, and his entirely empty cabin, he was surprised she’d appeared at all during the party.

“One of Hebe girls hosted a sleepover for the younger kids because she knew that most of the cabins would be otherwise occupied.” She grinned as she said this eyeing, no doubt, the low bruise on his neck that Connor managed to leave. She turned back to polishing the first place trophy in her lap, and Mitchell had no doubt that the trophy was passed on from sibling to siblings with the utmost care all night. “I’m surprised to see you back so early after being…otherwise occupied.”

Mitchell stuck his tongue out, not really caring for his childishness at the moment. He was tired and gross.

Asher passed over one of their fluffier towels without looking, and he’s said it before, and he’ll most definitely say it again, thank the gods for Asher.

“And he didn’t even make you breakfast?” He teased, his eyes twinkling with laughter as Mitchell tried to escape into the bathroom. He paused at that, his body freezing.

Mitchell swallowed, and considered his brother’s words. The towel, just a moment ago worshipped, slipped out of his hands and onto the floor.

“He…” Mitchell sighed, bringing back the details he’d just managed to pushed out of his mind. He gripped the doorway, leaning on it a bit too much. His voice was weak, war-torn. “He bought out a Denny’s.”

There was a pause, and Mitchell hadn’t considered how many of his siblings were eavesdropping

“He did….what?” Lacey’s voice was quiet as she whispered to probably Sophia. Mitchell sighed again, rubbing a hand over his greasy eyes.

“I don’t know how he did it...I really, honestly don’t. But I woke up and there was an amount of food to feed a literal army, or at least the Ares cabin after a workout.” He paused, remembering the true, horrific amount of food that was spread before him only hours before. “There was...so...much...toast.” He shuttered, “Every kind of egg, laid out…”

“Why Denny’s?” Scarlett whispered, disgust screwing up her face. He hadn’t noticed her coming in, but she had apparently heard enough. Without looking, she took the golden trophy from Piper’s lap and cradled it to her chest.

Mitchell shrugged, “I just woke up and...It was everywhere.” He shuttered, “I don’t think I can ever eat breakfast food again.”

“Sounds like a Will Solace wet dream.” Sebastian observed, leaning against the wall, probably now distracted with the words ‘Will Solace wet dream’.

There was a moment of quiet. “Is there….is there any left?” Stefan held up his hands in surrender at their sharp looks, “What? I’m starving. And everyone knows the Mess Hall only serves oatmeal on Tuesdays.” He suddenly grinned, low and suggestive. “I had a hard, long night after all.”

“With that Iris kid?” Sebastian thought for a moment before nodding in approval. “Good job.”

Mitchell held his hands up, pushing the thoughts from his mind. “I’m done - I’m - I’m just gonna shower.” He told them, pulling his borrowed shirt off and turning his back to them.

There was a gasp, “Are those scratches?” Scarlett’s voice was high and absolutely filled with barely hidden glee.

Mitchell sighed, slamming the door on them, and rejoiced in his rare moment of silence. But he smiled softly at their shared bells of laughter, despite what he was feeling in that moment.

Regardless of their craziness, Mitchell wouldn't trade them for anything in the world.

He paused as several wolf-whistles echoed after the slamming of his door, and briefly reconsidered.

With the heavy addition of their craziness, Mitchell would probably trade them for a case of Mountain Dew. A six pack, if desperate.

#conchell #fic #Percy Jackon and the Olympians #Heroes of Olympus #trials of apollo #connor stoll #I am in love with connor stoll

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