#hes happy and rose can tell but one day he offhandedly says

[ottern0t]

(Tiny cw- nonsexual nudity) Context: i headcanon all timelords are intersex and ten got human dysphoria from being on earth so long

[avatar-anna]

Father's Day Fun

Young Dad! Harry x Young Mom! Reader

"Happy Father's Day, Daddy."

The first words Harry woke up to that morning. He was only half-conscious, and he was pretty sure he'd slept on one side all night and had pillow creases in his cheek. But those words were enough to stir him enough to flicker his lips into a lazy smile. And to feel the lips kissing across his bare shoulders and back.

"Is that today?" Harry asked, voice more croak and scratch than actual sound. He really had been in a deep sleep, which didn't happen very often in his house.

The kisses made their way up to the shell of his ear, taking it between teeth before kissing the curve of his jaw and making him shudder. "It is. Want your present now or later?"

As the words were said, hands wrapped around his waist, generously spreading down and around his thighs. In a way, Harry felt like he was still sleeping, but while parts of him were slowly flickering back to life, others were wide awake.

"Well, if my gift is what I think it is. Now please."

Y/n chuckled and kissed his cheek, her hands still kneading his skin eagerly. It was a familiar touch, one that came from years of exploring what made him feel the most—which spots made him shiver versus the spot that made him groan, or the place that made him freeze as lightning struck across his back. But her touch was tender, making Harry lean his back against her with ease.

"Just relax," she murmured, her breath across his skin as exhilarating as the hands on him. "I've got you."

"Feels like I'm still dreaming," Harry mumbled offhandedly, doing exactly what Y/n asked.

"Made the executive decision to wake you up early for your treat. We can go back to sleep if you want. I know you have a long day ahead of you."

But even as she said it, her hands didn't stop, and she kissed him all over every few words. Harry could tell Y/n wanted it as much as he did, and that was saying a lot.

"No, Mama. If you want to give me your present now, go ahead and give it to me."

Even though his back was to her, Harry could practically feel the grin that no doubt spread across her face. It wasn't often that they got to enjoy a moment of uninterrupted peace, and that alone was cause for celebration. So Y/n slotted her leg between his, her hands reaching up to either side of Harry's face.

For a moment, she stayed still, content to trace the pads of her fingers across his face—over his eyebrows, down his nose, and across his lips. All over until she was satisfied with admiring him. Then and only then did she lean down and kiss him, both of them exhaling a sigh of relief as she slid her to gu past his lips to tangle with his own.

Every time Harry kissed her felt like the first. From that moment until now, his whole body practically lit up when Y/n kissed him.

It had started out slow, as if both of them were still waking up and pushing away the haze of sleep. But as Harry and Y/n woke up more, the intensity rose. He dipped his hands below the hem of the little shorts she wore to sleep, guiding her legs to straddle his waist. Y/n was eager to comply, her hands gripping his shoulders when he bucked his hips up once, just to tease.

"Please," she half-whimpered when he still didn't do away with his underwear or her own.

"Please what, Mama? I thought this was your gift to me?"

But even as he said it, Harry began pushing his briefs down and pushing Y/n's underwear to the side.

It was a moment of pure bliss. For a second, Harry couldn't even see properly, but as her hips began to move, he pulled himself together just enough to settle his hands on her hips to guide her along.

"I love you," she said between shallow breaths. "Best father there is."

"Yeah? You gonna give me another one?" Harry said, bucking his hips up and disrupting the rhythm she'd created. "Love having babies with you. Let's make another one. Please, Mama?"

They weren't actually trying for a baby, but talking about it was definitely a turn on for both of them. It was the mere potential of it all, the fact that they loved each other enough to do it all over again. There used to be rumors about Harry being a womanizer and his relationship history, but none of it really bothered Y/n. Not when he came home to her practically begging, "Just one more, Mama. Let me put another baby in you, please?"

"Yes," Y/n said, though it was more of an exhale of breath. "Yes, do it, H, please—Shit. Shit!"

"What? What's wrong are you hurt—Fuck, little warning next time, Y/n—"

"Pull those back up they're coming!" she hissed, rearranging her own clothes as she settled onto her side of the bed.

Had he really not heard? Harry had been so caught up in his own pleasure he hadn't heard what his wife had, but now that he could focus, he could hear the giggles of at least four of his children just outside their door.

"I thought you said we woke up early," Harry said under his breath, rearranging his underwear and willing his erection away.

"I did. Evidently, they woke up even earlier."

Shaking his head, Harry pulled his book off his night table and slipped his reading glasses over his nose while Y/n grabbed her phone to make it look like they were doing anything than what they had been.

"Happy Father's Day, Daddy!"

Harry always braced himself for the onslaught of limbs to his body when his kids decided to greet him and Y/n by jumping on the bed. Jumping on him was probably a better way to put it.

The twins were always the first to instigate the dog-piling, then Collette, then Simone, though this time it was just three of his children who landed on him instead of the bed. Simone was swaying from side to side as she carried a small tray in her arms.

"Thank you, thank you for all the love, my little monkeys," Harry said, kissing cheeks and tops of heads until everyone settled around him. Julian snuggled closest to him while Collette and Maeve slid off the bed to help Simone.

"We made you breakfast!" Maeve said, bouncing on her feet as her sisters brought the tray to Harry.

Harry marveled at the tray as Simone and Collette brought it to him. The "breakfast" they made was toast with butter and jam on top made to look like a smiley face, and a glass of orange juice, though some of it had sloshed out on the trip up the stairs.

"I love it. Thank you so much. I can't wait to eat it," he said, kissing Simone on the head. To Y/n, he asked, "Did you know about this?"

She gave him a look as she got out of bed, no doubt to check on the babies. "This was all them."

"Daddy, why is your shirt inside out?"

Harry looked down to where Julian was playing with the hem of his t-shirt and realized that it was in fact inside out. He shook his head to himself, trying to come up with a good excuse. "Um...I don't know, JuJu. Must've gotten ready for bed in the dark last night."

Thankfully, Julian thought Harry's reasoning was sound and didn't question him about it further.

The rest of the morning was spent in bed, all eight members of the Styles family huddled up and enjoying Father's Day together with a movie and some breakfast that Y/n brought up for the rest of the kids. Natalia was asleep on Harry's shoulder by the middle of the cartoon, and the twins were getting antsy.

When the credits finally rolled through, no one gave much grief when Harry told everyone to get dressed. "We're going to lunch with Grandpa today, so let's be on our best behavior, alright?" he said to the twins as he helped them get dressed.

Later that night, Y/n was watching Harry perform from the side of the stage. She'd gone through a rollercoaster of emotions since the opening song, from wanting to tug him into the nearest room with a lock at seeing what he was wearing, from pride when he got choked up as he addressed the crowd. Y/n had seen her husband perform a number of times, had been by his side for so much of his career, but every show felt as exhilarating as the first, each one a special memory she would keep forever.

"Let me take the little ones tonight."

Startled at the sudden voice behind her, Y/n turned around. Harry's father was there, a kind smile on his face as he looked at her and Natalia, who was sleeping soundly against her chest.

"You sure?"

He smiled and reached his hands out for Y/n's littlest daughter. "Course. I'd love to spend more time with my grandbabies."

Almost subconsciously, she held Natalia closer to her chest. There weren't many moments where Y/n was away from her kids, especially GiGi and Natalia. Because of Covid, she pretty much spent every waking moment with them, so letting them out of her sight always made her pause. But only for a moment. She knew she could trust Harry's dad, and that it would only be a night. Maybe she and Harry could make use of a night off. A night alone.

"I think they'd love that, actually," Y/n said before carefully handing over the sleeping bundle. "Let me help you get them all together. And if they give you any trouble, which they shouldn't because they know better—"

"Y/n," he said gently, resting a hand on her shoulder. "You did a great job raising these kids. I know it's Father's Day, but you, dear, are a great mother. Anyone can see that."

Her shoulders sagged a little at the compliment. There were times when Y/n wondered about a different life, a different path. Some people questioned her decision to keep having kids instead of pursuing a career, or made comments that she didn't really do anything except be a mother to her kids. Harry was never one of those people. They always said that they were a team, but he also constantly filled her with compliments and praise for how much she did for their family. For Y/n, that was usually enough—along with knowing that when she needed a break or wanted to be more than a stay at home mom, he would support her one hundred percent—but it was also nice to receive praise from someone else, even if it was technically Father's Day.

The rest of the show, Y/n packed up the kids' things, going over nighttime routines and favorite bedtime stories with Harry's dad. Most of the Styles children were asleep, except for Simone, who was fighting to keep her eyes open until Harry finished his show. All Y/n had to do was help get everyone in the car when Des was ready, and they would be off.

Harry was glowing when he entered his dressing room, his smile broad and widening even further when he saw Y/n waiting for him.

"Another successful show under your belt," she said, resting her hands on his shoulders.

It was crazy to see such a change in his physique over the years. When they met, Harry wasn't scrawny, per se, but he was skinny in the way a lot of teenage boys tended to be. He'd gotten into boxing about a year later and had kept up a pretty consistent workout regimen since then, even during lockdown. But Harry had never put on this kind of muscle before.

*.*

"Gotta stay healthy, don't I?" He'd said when Y/n asked him about it once.

"You've always been healthy, H. This is a little extreme even for you."

Y/n didn't mind the muscle-building, so long as it was for the right reasons. If Harry simply decided he wanted to bulk up for the hell of it, then fine, but she couldn't help but feel like there was more to it.

"I'm at that age where, like, dads tend to let go of themselves," he finally admitted to her.

"That's why you're doing this? Because you don't want a little belly fat? What does that say about me, H?"

Harry never made Y/n feel insecure about her body. She'd gone through pregnancy five times and had delivered six babies. He loved her because of each stretch mark and weight fluctuation and everything else that came with the changes pregnancy had on her. Why didn't he see himself the same way?

"It's not that, Y/n, of course it's not. I just—I want to be able to do all of the things I did for Simone and Collette for Natalia and Gi, you know? I want to be able to toss them in the pool and wrestle and hold them up on my shoulders. I want to do all of it for them. But I can't if I start slowing down now. I'll be a potato. A bum dad."

Y/n had to hide her giggle behind her hand. His feelings were valid, but, "You are not going to be a potato, H."

"I'm gonna be the lamer, older dad when they grow up," he huffed.

"You are not! Stop this line of thinking right now, I won't have it," she said. "You're perfect now, and in a few years, a little belly or not, you're going to be the coolest dad ever. You're Harry fucking Styles, alright?"

"Promise you'll think I'm Harry fucking Styles ten years from now?"

Y/n kissed his cheek and pinched his hip. "Til the day I die, baby."

*.*

"Where are the kids?" he asked, surveying the room and realizing Y/n was the only one there.

"They all tried really hard to wait, but they all fell asleep. It's been a long week," she told him.

"Should probably get them home then," he said, moving to grab his change of clothes from his bag.

"Don't!" Y/n said, probably too quickly. She'd been eyeing him all night in his concert outfit, her mind going places it probably shouldn't have while he was performing. But he just looked so good. She wasn't ready for him to take his stage clothes off quite just yet.

"Don't what?"

"I...did a thing."

"Oh?"

Harry turned around, amused at Y/n's tone and the way her hands were hidden behind her back. She knew what she meant when she said don't. He'd felt her gaze burning into him practically all night, which just lit him up on stage even more.

"What did you do?" he asked, stepping closer to her.

"Well, it was your dad, actually. He wanted to spend the evening with his grandchildren, and I made the executive decision to say yes. But since it's Father's Day, you can totally say no, but I just—You know, a house to ourselves doesn't happen very often, so—"

"Mama."

"Yes, love?"

"Are they all asleep?"

"Yes."

"So they just need to be put in the car?"

"Yes."

"Then what the hell are we still doing here?"

Y/n squeaked as Harry picked her up off the floor and hauled her over his shoulder. He took her down the hall to where the kids' room was. Setting her down, they got to work getting everyone in Des' car, kissing foreheads and cheeks as they went. They watched as he peeled out of the parking lot, Y/n squeezing Harry's hand to resist the urge to wave for them to come back.

When the car was finally out of sight, Harry's arms slipped around her waist. He nipped at her jaw a little before saying, "What do you say, Mama, should we finish what we started this morning?"

And even though she was a little saddened at the prospect of being away from her babies, she couldn't stop her heart from flipping with excitement at the idea of doing just that.

[losfacedevil]

can i share some fm sam brain rot too? 🥺🥸

one day sophia goes to visit sam at the market and he notices she looks exhausted. he does not want to upset her in anyway, so he asks how her night was. she tearfully explains that she hasn’t been sleeping, despite wanting to so badly. her weighted blanket makes her feel too hot and constricted, but the lack of blankets makes her feel unsafe. sam invites her to sleep at his place, no funny business, just a solid goodnight sleep. she instantly takes him up on that, and shows up to his house when the evening begins. he lays out his softest boxers and coziest shirt for sophia to put on. the two of them slip into bed together and sam softly rests his head on her chest, mumbling “this ok?” to which she says yes. she’s comfortably lulled to sleep with rose keeping her legs warm, and sam holding her waist tight. sophia wakes up the next morning feeling the most refreshed she ever has, and sam notices by the unusual lack of dark circles under her eyes. he softly smiles and exclaims how happy he is that she slept well. sam offhandedly tells her she snores in her sleep, to which she’s mortified because she’s worried she kept sam up. noting her getting upset, sam kisses her on the head saying that her snores mixed with miss rose bud’s snores were just the white noise he needed to have a peaceful slumber too (he also notes to definitely avoid telling sophia she also drooled on his shirt).

She’d sigh with relief as she lays in his bed and Rose curls up in her legs. How she’d run her fingers through his hair while his head rested on her chest with just the right amount of pressure to keep the anxious jitters at bay. She’d slip into a peaceful slumber so quickly, he’d be in the middle of talking to her softly, keeping her mind off of everything going through it when he realized she was snoring softly, her hand resting firmly against the back of his head.

She’d wake up with her face tucked into the crook of his neck and Rose pressed up against her back, keeping her sandwiched safely between her and Sammy. Stretching her body out and pressing a soft kiss to Sam’s cheek who whines like a child getting woken up for school “just a few more minutes, please?” She’d be full of energy, soft giggles escaping her as his arm tightened around her waist, keeping her safe and secure next to him.

[pastelwitchling]

Somebody to You (1/4)

Chapter 1. Hidden Feelings

Alex Manes is Michael's best friend in the entire world. His platonic soulmate, in fact. That's why, when Michael discovers that Alex is in love with him, he panics. Rather than risk the loss of his friendship, Michael begs his brother Max to date Alex instead, and divert his affections. Though hesitant at first, Max agrees for the sake of helping his brother. But what happens when Max realizes that there is more to Alex than he first thought? Romance ensues, and as Max and Alex become closer, Max realizes that what had started as a favor to Michael has turned all too real. The only problem is that Michael never expected Max to actually fall in love. Can Max stay with Alex knowing that their beginning is based on the worst kind of betrayal?

               High school was hard enough without your best friend falling in love with you.

               Not that there was anything wrong with Alex Manes, guys and girls both had to admit he was pretty to look at, but he was Michael’s best friend. When he’d first come out to him last year, Michael had very pointedly not teased the question, You don’t have a crush on me, do you?

               Now, he didn’t know whether or not that had been the right move. If he’d asked, would Alex have blushed and given himself away? Or would he have been insulted? Or would he have rolled his eyes at the question like he did any time Michael said something stupid?

               Maybe if he’d asked, he wouldn’t have found out by accidentally eavesdropping on Alex’s private conversation with Liz. Maybe he wouldn’t have heard Alex’s tears, heard his voice as strung out as it had been, fueled by exhaustion and fear.

               “What if he doesn’t say no?” Liz tried, the words more a plea than an actual consideration to Michael’s ears. He could hear her desperate desire for her own words to be true, and the resignation in the knowledge that they weren’t. “What if he likes you back?”

               “He won’t,” Alex cried, and made Michael’s grip on the music room door handle tighten. “He’ll never talk to me again.”

               “Michael loves you,” Liz insisted. “He’ll love you even if you want something more. Look,” she was speaking more quickly now, “maybe if you tell him, you’ll feel better. Right? That’s why you’re crying, isn’t it? It’s just another huge weight on your shoulders, but if he knows that you’ve loved him since middle school, then – then maybe at least he’ll stop rubbing his one-night stands in your face!”

               She sounded furious at the mention of it. Michael thought about the last blonde, nameless girl he’d had two nights ago, the way he’d latched to Alex’s back the next day, eager to tell him all about it. The way Alex, the dark circles around his eyes darker for reasons other than the eyeliner, had shrugged him off and murmured some excuse about getting to class.

               Shame swelled in his chest until he realized he had nothing to be guilty for. He hadn’t known Alex had feelings for him!

               Oh god, he realized. Alex had feelings for him. His best friend – no, best friend wasn’t enough to describe what Alex was. His soulmate, the very half of his heart, wanted more than friendship from him.

               He swallowed, about to walk away. He shouldn’t be hearing any of this. He shouldn’t know any of it. Then –

               “No,” Alex said. “No, I’m just – I’m just tired.” He sniffled, and Michael imagined him roughly wiping his face with his sleeves. “I don’t want him to know.”

               “Alex –”

               “No, Liz,” he said more sternly, more afraid. “I don’t want him to know. You . . . when I told you, you promised you’d never tell him. You’re not going to –”

               “No,” she breathed, appalled. “No, of course not. I’d never do that.”

               “I know,” he said quietly. “I just . . . please, you can’t say stuff like that. It – I can’t – if he finds out –”

               “Hey,” Liz said softly. “He won’t.”

               “I can’t lose him,” he said and sniffled. “I’m just . . . upset because of my dad. The last thing I want is for Michael to leave me because of a stupid crush.”

               A moment’s pause, then Liz tried, “Alex . . . it’s more than a crush.”

               “Please,” Alex pleaded. “Don’t tell him. I never want him to know.”

               “Okay,” Liz said, and Michael heard shuffling. He dared peek into the room and saw Alex there alongside the piano, his back to the door, Liz’s arms around his shoulders. Her eyes were closed, so she didn’t see Michael. “I promise, I’ll never tell him.”

               Alex hugged her waist, and his body sagged with exhaustion against her. He hummed, but his voice waivered, like he was trying not to cry again.

               Michael had left then, replaying everything he’d heard in his head. Alex liked him. No, Alex more than liked him. What was he supposed to do with that?

               This wasn’t like finding out the local gay guy had fantasies about him. This was finding out the guy he trusted more than anybody, the guy he cherished more than anybody, had feelings for him. It felt like a threat to their friendship.

               Michael slumped against the driver’s side of his truck, his backpack barely hanging off one hand. This was Alex. What was he supposed to do?

               Alex liked him. His response? He clenched his jaw. No fucking way. He didn’t want to be in a relationship with Alex. It was Alex. It wasn’t that he couldn’t see holding his hand and going on dates with him and he’d seen him in the locker rooms. It was no wonder the girls here had had a memorial when they’d found out the hot emo musician only wanted men . . .

               It didn’t matter. He didn’t want anything with Alex. He’d had too many one-night stands and too many nameless, faceless nobodies to know that love was only something that existed in his brother’s books. Getting intimate with someone meant risking losing them.

               He clenched his fists. He would’ve rather died than lose Alex. He opened his truck door and climbed inside. He gripped his steering wheel tightly, unable to start it for a good minute as an unidentified dread settled in the bottom of his chest and climbed up through his heart.

               When he parked in front of the junkyard where old man Sanders let him stay, and he found his brother Max sitting in a lawn chair, he understood what the dread was. It was the same thing he’d heard in Alex’s voice when it seemed like Liz might let his feelings for him slip; Raw fear.

               As he stepped out, millions of worst-case scenarios swarmed his mind. What if Alex decided to tell him the truth? What if he blurted it one day in a fight? What if they were so happy that Alex got the courage to kiss him? What if things ended terribly and they lost each other?

               Max raised a brow at him. “You look like hell. What happened?”

               Michael could only shake his head as he took the seat opposite Max. He was due to work in half an hour, but sometimes Sanders let him rest up if he’d had a long day. And those last few minutes overhearing what he had in the music room had officially made this the longest day ever.

               “Tell me something,” he sighed, leaning his head back and not at all paying attention to the dotted white clouds across the blue sky. “Anything.”

                “Okay?” Max said more in the form of a question. “I – uh – saw Liz today. In the music room. With Alex.”

               He groaned. “Anything else.”

               Max nudged his knee with the back of his hand. “Hey, what’s wrong with you? You look like someone just smashed your guitar.”

               My guitar. The guitar that Alex had given him because Michael had offhandedly mentioned once that music helped ease the noise in his mind. How had he not known then? Alex had paid such special attention to him. He had read his mind and known what his heart had wanted and given it to him when no one else bothered to look past the excitement of getting to rebel under the bleachers with the genius trailer trash.

               How had he not known?

               “I changed my mind,” he said. “Don’t speak. Just let me wallow.”

               “Huh,” Max said. “Isobel’s been a fortress since she joined the Spring Dance committee, and you’re busy falling into your own despair for whatever reason.” He pulled a little brown leather notebook out of his back pocket. “Do any of my siblings have time for me?”

               “I’m not falling into anything,” Michael grumbled. “Why do you have to get so poetic about . . . every . . . damn . . .” he trailed off, his eyes narrowing at the notebook. “Alex has that same notebook.”

               Max hummed noncommittally, leaning back in his seat again and resting the notebook on his lap as he began doodling a rose. “Different colors though,” he said. “His is black. They got mixed up last week when he and I bumped into each other in the school hallway.”

               An idea formed, somewhere in the back of his mind. Like water on ink; something definitely there, but unreadable. He leaned back again, wiping whatever the itch was from his eye.

               “I don’t want to think about Alex right now,” he muttered, though even as he said it, his thoughts taunted him. Alex was all he could think about right now.

               “Whoa,” Max blinked. Even he knew how much Alex and Michael treasured each other. Michael had never said he didn’t want to do something where Alex was concerned. “You guys have a fight or something?”

               “No,” Michael said, though a fight might’ve been easier to deal with. “I found out . . . I heard Liz say . . .” He huffed, closing his eyes. He blurted. “Alex is in love with me.”

               Silence. Michael opened his eyes and saw Max’s expression completely unsurprised. He looked like he was waiting for Michael to get to the point.

               He straightened. “Are you kidding me? You really knew?”

               Max scoffed. “You really didn’t?”

               “No!” he gaped and stood. “He’s my best friend, why would I think he was in love with me?!”

               “Because he’s your best friend.”

               “So?!”

               “So!” Max said like it was obvious. “Alex hates people! Liz and Kyle are his only friends, he barely tolerates me and Isobel, and Rosa Ortecho swears he hissed at her once!” He huffed a disbelieving chuckle. “Before you came along, Liz told me he never said two words to anybody he hadn’t known since before his mom left. You want to take a guess as to why he warmed up to you so quickly?”

               Michael didn’t answer. Max grabbed his arm. “And for the love of god, stop pacing, you’re making me nauseous.”

               He tugged him down onto the lawn chair, and Michael sagged against it. He stared into the distance, lost in his memories of his first meeting with Alex. Alex had been bullied, pushed into a tree and made fun of for stares and feelings he had yet to understand himself. Then Michael had jumped between him and the bullies, waving a tree branch, screaming at them to get away or he would kill them.

               It had been the wildness of his eyes and words, wildness he’d gained from years with monsters for parents, that had unnerved them in the end. Alex had taken his offered hand with wide eyes then, and timidly asked, “You’re not scared of me?”

               Michael had known then that this twelve-year-old had been told too often that he was something unnatural, something wrong, and was expecting it from someone else now. So he’d looked Alex over, as if checking for bruises, and rested the branch on his shoulder like it had been a bat.

               He’d grinned and said, “No fangs or a tail. You look fine to me!”

               After that moment, Alex had followed him everywhere, his eyes never anything less than adoring.

               Michael shut his eyes. How could he have not known?

               A buzzing against his thigh snapped him out of his thoughts, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Alex was calling.

               “Shit,” he leapt to his feet, holding the phone at a distance as if afraid that Alex could somehow see him through the camera. “Shit shit shit.”

               “What?” Max followed and his shoulders slumped at the sight of Alex’s name. “Dude, just answer. He doesn’t know you know, remember?”

               “Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah, right, yeah.”

               “It’s still just Alex.”

               “Just Alex,” he repeated. “It’s just Alex.” He answered the call, held the phone to his ear, and all but yelled, “Hey!” He winced at himself and Max rolled his eyes.

               “Hey?” Alex asked, laughter in his voice. He didn’t sound like he’d just been crying his eyes out at all. Then it hit Michael. Alex was abused. He was used to hiding his scars. “Why’re you screaming?”

               “I’m not!” he said, then adjusted his volume with a clear of his throat. “I’m – uh – I’m not. What’s up?”

               He loves me. He loves me, he loves me, he loves me.

               Michael, so caught in the thought, completely missed what Alex had asked him. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry,” he grit out, “say that again?”

               “Oh, I’m sorry, is the auto shop really busy right now?” Alex asked like he knew the answer. “Pay attention, Guerin, this is important!”

               Of course, Michael had ditched time and time again because they hardly had any cars in around now, and all Sanders did when he was an hour late was yell and grumble, then give him and Alex an extra plate of whatever he’d had for lunch.

               “I asked what time you were coming to my gig tonight,” he said, a little more hesitantly. When Michael didn’t answer, he cleared his throat. “At the – uh – the Wild Pony? Just so I can save you a seat.”

               Michael let his hand with the phone fall, his shoulders slumped. For years, he’d owed that nervous stammer in Alex’s voice, the way he went from confident to shy with just a second of Michael’s silence, to nerves about his gigs. Now he speculated it was because of something else.

               Damn it. He wished he’d never known about Alex’s feelings. He wished he could unhear everything.

               He realized Alex was talking again, and he held the phone to his ear.

               “If you can’t make it,” he was saying, “I get it, I just need to know for the seats, you know?”

               Michael had never canceled on Alex before, but Alex was a little sensitive where his music was concerned. Michael assumed it was because he had a father and brothers who belittled what he did every day, no matter how often Michael told him he loved his songs.

               He gripped the phone tightly. He wondered what Alex would do if he canceled on him now.

               “Michael,” Max mouthed, “talk to him.”

               “Guerin,” Alex huffed a laugh. It sounded forced. “Dude, it’s fine. It’s one gig, I think our friendship will survive.”

               Will it? Michael feared. Will it survive this, Alex? Will it survive feelings that friends shouldn’t have for each other? Will it survive if I can’t help but look into the double meaning of every word you say now?

               He felt oddly frustrated with Alex, like this was his fault somehow. Like he was singlehandedly destroying everything they’ve ever had by wanting more.

               “Is it another gig?” Max asked, nudging his elbow. “Will Liz be there? Ask him if Liz will be there.”

               Michael rolled his eyes, about to snap at his brother that this was not the time. Couldn’t he see that Michael was suffering some emotional turmoil over here?

               “Guerin,” Alex tried again. “Are you there?” He heard a sigh, and Alex mumbled, “Is the reception bad?”

               Michael hated this. He was starting to scare Alex, and it was the very last thing he wanted to do. Max was still asking about Liz, his notebook, just like Alex’s but a different color, in his hand, and Michael clenched his jaw. Max liked Liz, but it would be so much easier for everyone if . . . if . . .

               His eyes widened. The idea that had begun to sink below the depths of his mind surfaced now. Before he could make it out completely, he found himself saying, “Sorry, hang on a second, babe, my brother keeps trying to talk to me.”

               “Oh!” relief flooded Alex’s voice and he chuckled breathlessly. It sounded so much more real, and that hurt Michael all the more. “Yeah, sure! God, Michael, you freaked me out a second there. Yeah, take your time.”

               Michael covered the speaker on his phone and told Max quietly, “I need you to come to Alex’s gig with me.”

               Max’s eyes widened. “Liz will be there?”

               “Doesn’t matter,” Michael said. “I need you to ask out Alex.”

               Max stared a moment, then, “What?”

               Michael held up a finger to his brother and brightened his tone when he told Alex, “Hey, Alex, can I bring Max to your gig tonight?”

               “W-wait,” Max said, “Michael, what’d you mean, ask out Alex? Was that a joke?”

               Michael ignored him as Alex scoffed. “Sure. But you’re definitely coming, right? Because I was totally lying before. If you don’t make it, I’ll never talk to you again.”

               Michael smiled and almost said, Would I ever not show up for you?, realized how Alex might take it, and diverted at the last second.

               “Uh – yeah – see you tonight, then.”

               It was awkward and unnatural for them, but Alex hardly seemed to notice, lost in his own happiness, as he told Michael he’d see him tonight, and hung up.

               He barely met Max’s dark eyes and crossed arms when Max said, “No.”

               “Hear me out –”

               “If your next sentence doesn’t end with, ‘and then everyone will laugh, and it’ll totally take the edge off,’ I don’t want to hear it.”

               “One date!” he begged, following Max back to the chairs and their backpacks. “Just one! Consider it a birthday present to me! For the next five years – no, ten years!”

               “This isn’t a favor, Michael!” Max argued. “I’m not going to ask your best friend out just so you can avoid having to talk about this!”

               “But –”

               “Besides,” Max said, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, “I’m not gay or bisexual or pansexual or anything. He’d smell a fake a mile away.”

               “You’d totally pass for bisexual!” Michael argued. “Look at you” – he tapped Max’s arms, his chest, his notebook – “you have the whole muscly jock with a tender heart thing going on, come on!”

               Max stared. “Do you hear yourself?”

               “Max,” he urged. “I need you to do this one thing for me! I’d do it for you!”

               “You wouldn’t have to,” Max said. “I don’t pass off people who like me to my brother like a freaking torch.”

               Michael winced, and Max sighed, his expression softening. “And I like Liz, remember?”

               “Then this’ll be the perfect in for you,” he insisted. “Getting close to Alex means getting close to Liz. Then, in – in a month, just until the Spring Dance, you can smooth your way to Liz, and Alex will know the breakup is coming.”

               Michael swallowed thickly before he said, “I know him. He hates being left behind, so he’ll end things first.”

               Max shook his head. “And he’ll be heartbroken. Assuming your plan works. Is that what you want, Michael?”

               Michael hesitated, then, “It’ll just break for a minute.” He added quickly, “Th-then I’ll come in, and he won’t want to date your brother, so he’ll know we’re better off as friends.”

               He pursed his lips a moment, then walked past him. “You’re crazy.”

               Michael clenched his jaw and blocked Max’s path. “I can’t date Alex,” he said fiercely. “I can’t.”

               “He doesn’t know you overheard anything,” Max told him, not unkindly. “Can’t you just . . . play along?”

               Michael shook his head, his fists tight at his side. “It’ll come out,” he said. “I know it will. Please, Max, I . . . I can’t lose him. I need you.”

               Those were the words, Michael knew, that Max could never say no to. Those were the words that he and Isobel used only in extreme cases, when guilt for taking advantage of their brother’s good heart had to be put aside to fix whatever had happened. Michael hated using them, had used them only once before in his life, but knew he had to use them again now.

               Max sighed and looked away, something like resignation settling in the slump of his shoulders. A moment’s pause, then – “Alex hates me.”

               “No,” Michael breathed, already smiling despite the pinch in his chest that he would’ve rather not thought about. “You said it yourself, he barely tolerates you.” He took Max’s journal and held it up. “And if anyone can make something into something more, it’s a writer.”

               *

               Max wasn’t good at being a boyfriend. Not that he’d ever been anyone’s boyfriend, but that was the problem. He had no idea how to flirt or tease or ask anyone out. It was why he’d spent the better part of the last year pining after Liz Ortecho, stumbling through his hellos.

               Now, for whatever reason, he was prepping himself to ask out someone for the first time in his life. And it was Liz’s best friend. The things he did for his siblings . . .

               As Michael parked his truck outside the Wild Pony, Max thought about the few times he’d seen Alex around town. He was reminded of the Greek mythology stories he loved reading; of Hades, Lord of the Underworld, and how sunlight couldn’t touch him. He was nothing like his brothers who were all on one sports team or another. Who seemed to have no problem being popular.

               Though none of them, he knew, were like Alex. The dark prince, the one everyone wanted to know for his mystery, but the one who didn’t want anyone near him. The one people gave up on because he was too difficult to approach.

               You had to have an in. And, Max supposed, Michael was his in.

               “Remember,” Michael was telling him as they left the truck. “His favorite song is Welcome to the Black Parade, don’t get him a beer until after his set, and whatever you do, do not insult Star Wars. He didn’t talk to Valenti for two days when he thought there were Jedis in Star Trek.”

               Max started to laugh, saw that Michael was watching him expectantly, and huffed. “Would you calm down? I’m the one who gets to worry here. There’s no way Alex will let me come within three feet of him.”

               “I already told you,” Michael said. “You have me. You just think about being your usual charming self –”

               “Is that supposed to be another joke?”

               “—And Alex will be happy to have you.”

               Michael stopped abruptly just as they reached the doors. He turned to Max and pointed a warning finger. “Just don’t kiss him.”

               Max blinked. “Excuse me?”

               “Don’t kiss him,” he repeated seriously. “That’s . . . it’s too far. He deserves to be kissed by someone who . . . really wants to kiss him.” He shook the thought out of his head. “Just – just don’t kiss him.”

               “I won’t kiss him,” Max held his hands up. “I don’t want to anyway.”

               “And don’t talk that way around him,” Michael grit out. “Anyone would be lucky to have Alex.”

               Max looked to the skies for aid. “Then you date him!”

               “I can’t,” was all Michael said, and tugged on Max’s arm. “Come on, you’ll do great.”

               The Wild Pony doors opened to chatter and cowboys and clanking drinks. Max heaved a sigh, tapping his fingers on his thigh. He could do this. He could do this.

               Michael patted his back and went on ahead. Max followed, thinking of what he’d say to Alex when he saw him.

               He considered, “What’s up?”, “How’s it hanging?”, “‘Sup, bro!”, and winced at himself. He needed more time to think of something, but he didn’t have any. He spotted Liz first, and Kyle and Alex beside her. Liz and Kyle were laughing about something, but Alex was focused on his music sheets, his fingers running over the keys as if making sure he knew the song by heart.

               Right then, Max realized what a terrible idea this was.

               “Michael,” he tried, reaching for his brother’s shoulder. “I – I think we should talk about this –”

               “Alex!” Michael called, and went ahead. Max was left stumbling behind him.

               Alex glanced up and smiled at the sight of Michael. “Hey! I saved you a seat up front!”

               Michael looked like he was going to wrap an arm around his shoulders like he usually did, then his smile dimmed and he cleared his throat, patting Alex’s arm in the end.

               “Duh, buddy,” he said. “What are friends for?”

               Alex glanced down for a fraction of a second before his smile returned and he pulled Michael to behind the keyboard to look at his song. It was like Max wasn’t there.

               Michael seemed to notice that, too. He raised his brows pointedly at Max, and Max cleared his throat, stepped forward, and said, “H-hey, Alex.”

               Alex looked up like he thought he heard someone talk to him, and his eyes met Max’s. His brows furrowed and he pressed his lips together, clearly confused as to why Michael’s brother was talking to him.

               “Hi,” he murmured. “So, Guerin, look at this, I used the lyrics you came up with yesterday.”

               “Uh –” Michael barely glanced at the page. “Hope you don’t mind that I brought Max,” he said, pulling Max forward. “He really wanted to hear you sing.”

               Alex narrowed his eyes at Max. “If he’s here to, like, make fun of me or something –”

               “No,” Max said at once. “No, I – I really do . . . like . . . music.”

               Alex stared a moment. Then he looked away, uncomfortable, and took Michael’s hand. He muttered, “Is he coming with us for ice cream after?”

               Michael chuckled and subtly removed his hand from Alex’s. Max could see the flash of hurt in Alex’s eyes before it was gone, and he thought he might’ve imagined it.

               “We’ll see,” Michael said, “about the ice cream, okay?”

               Alex scoffed and bumped their shoulders. “Yeah, okay. The day Michael Guerin says no to ice cream is the day Kyle Valenti gets into med school.”

               “Hey!” Kyle argued.

               “I’m kidding!” Alex laughed. “I knew you were listening in, you freak!”

               Kyle pulled Alex to him, and Michael kept laughing until he whipped around to face Max, then his smile fell away and he hissed, “Work with me here!”

               “I’m trying,” Max hissed back. “I am making him uncomfortable, Michael.”

               “He’s just not used to you talking to him,” he whispered. “Just – just – just . . . move in there!”

               He pushed Max forward, and Max nearly stumbled into Alex’s keyboard. Alex looked startled.

               “Max,” Liz blinked, “are you okay?”

               Kyle tilted his head. “You drunk already, dude?”

               “Uh . . .” Max started, and pointed at the keys. “I like your piano.”

               Alex raised a brow. “It’s actually not mine. It belongs to the bar.”

               “Oh.” Max nodded. “W-Well, you look really cool. I wish I could play the piano, so that’s – that’s really cool.”

               “Thanks?”

               “Can I – uh – can I buy you a beer? After your set?”

               His face burned as Alex stared. Then, while still watching Max apprehensively, Alex called, “Guerin?”

               Michael didn’t answer. Max turned to find that he’d started talking up the first blonde he’d found. Asshole, he thought, clearly looking for any excuse to leave him alone with his best friend.

               He looked back at Alex, and saw that he was watching Michael, too. His shoulders had fallen, and his brows pinched, but there was no surprise in his face. He was so used to Michael ignoring him when a better offer came along.

               He knew he should say something, though he didn’t know what. If Alex thought of Michael as nothing but a friend, this wouldn’t have hurt him.

               Liz then suddenly wrapped her arms around Alex’s waist, tighter and tighter until he burst into laughter. Kyle picked up the music sheets and complained why Alex never played any heavy metal.

               “You dress like you play it,” he said, “is all I’m saying!”

               They were clearly trying to distract him from whatever Michael was doing. Max scratched the back of his head, not knowing what to do himself.

               When the show started, Michael was already in his seat, pulling Max to sit down beside him. Liz clapped the loudest and Kyle offered a thumbs up. Michael kept his arms crossed, as if afraid anything he did would be taken the wrong way. Max could see Alex’s momentary confusion before Mimi DeLuca announced his song.

               Max was looking everywhere, namely at Liz, until Michael nudged his side with his elbow, and Alex started playing. As the first few notes fell together like a soothing waterfall, Max started. He looked to Alex, eyes wide. This was his music? He didn’t know why, but he’d imagined, like Kyle had teased, heavy metal or I-hate-everything ballads. But this . . .

               Not thirty seconds in, Max’s eyes had fallen shut.

               He had no idea how it had happened. One second, he was in a wooden chair at a bar where most of the crowd was laughing and talking over the music. The next, he found himself in a forest, surrounded by pine trees, with a clear lake behind him.

               When Alex started to sing – who knew he had such a smooth voice? – Max then felt the breeze of a desert night across his cheeks, the stars and full moon bright above, the rest of the world turned to peaceful quiet.

               The further along Alex got in his song, the more Max’s fingers itched to write. He couldn’t remember the last time ideas poured into his head like this, the last time he felt his heart swell with the anticipation of creating something.

               This was a song Alex had made up. Had he always had such talent? Max had never been to one of his gig’s before because he’d never been invited. Or he had, and he had been lost in the chattering crowd in the back, not paying attention.

               Now, he had to pay attention. He found it impossible to do anything else. When Alex finished, his friends and Michael stood to applaud. Liz screamed, Kyle whistled, and Michael looked prouder than Max had ever seen him of anybody. Max slowly did the same, staring.

               Alex looked red-faced, but his eyes shone brightly and he smiled widely, like even he could feel the emotion he’d just created. He stepped down, running a hand through his dark hair, and accepted the bottle of water from Kyle with a thanks.

               “Is it over?” he breathed after taking big gulps.

               “Yeah,” Kyle laughed, ruffling his hair and messing it up again. “It’s over, buddy.”

               “That’s my Alex,” Michael said before he could help it, and Max saw the blush deepen in Alex’s cheeks. Michael seemed to have realized his mistake, and handed a cold beer under the table to Max.

               Max hesitated, then held it out for Alex to take.

               Alex looked startled, but he was still smiling. “Thanks,” he murmured, accepting the bottle.

               “So,” Kyle drummed his hands on the table. “Ice cream to celebrate?”

               “Ice cream!” Liz yelled and Alex laughed. He turned to Michael.

               “Ice cream?”

               “Uh . . .” Michael looked over at the blonde he’d been flirting with. She waved to him from across the bar. Max saw the tick in his jaw, the way his fingers curled to fists under the table, and he knew that the last thing Michael wanted to do was cancel on Alex.

               Yet that was what he did.

               “Raincheck?” he said, and nudged his chin at the girl. “I think I’m about to live the Rockstar fantasy.”

               Liz frowned, disapproving. “But you’re not the Rockstar. Alex is.”

               “Well, the girls have to go somewhere,” he shrugged, already walking backwards. “If any guys show up, I’ll send ‘em your way, babe.”

               “O-Oh,” Alex’s brows pinched. “Okay . . .”

               “Max can take my place!” he offered, and turned his back to them. “See you tomorrow!”

               “Jackass,” Kyle muttered.

               Max opened his mouth to defend Michael, not knowing what he’d say exactly, when Alex said, “He’s just been really stressed out lately. He – he has all those honor classes. I think he should let off a little steam.”

               Liz did not look like she agreed. “Alex . . .”

               “It’s okay, really,” he said, then managed a smile that did not reach his eyes. “More for us, right?”

               Max stared. “You really care about him, don’t you?”

               “Of course I do,” Alex said simply, and looked at Michael’s retreating form with a forlorn look. “He’s my best friend.”

                 Alex seemed distracted. No matter how much Liz and Kyle tried to pull him into conversation, the best he could manage was a smile that even Max could tell was fake. Max felt kind of bad for him. He seemed to really be trying his best to cheer up, but every time a blonde girl or any straight couple passed, his mood dimmed again, like he couldn’t help but wonder what Michael was doing now.

               Not knowing what else to do, Max nudged his arm and asked the only question he could think to. “Did you really write that song you sang tonight?”

               Alex looked confused as to why Max would ask him anything, and he shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah.”

               Max shook his head. “That’s so cool,” he breathed. “It – I mean, it was really good.”

               Alex checked to make sure Liz and Kyle were too caught up with each other to hear them, then said, “Okay, what’s your deal, Evans? Why are you suddenly being so nice to me?”

               Max frowned. “I’ve always been nice to you.”

               Alex raised a skeptical brow. “You’ve always been polite. And that’s only because I’m friends with your brother. I know you’re as scared of me as everyone else.”

               “That’s not true!” Max said at once. “I’m scared of everyone!”

               Alex blinked, and Max realized too late what he’d said. He blushed and looked down, expecting to be laughed at. When he heard Alex huff an incredulous chuckle, he shut his eyes tight, humiliated.

               Then he said, “You? Mr. Perfect?”

               “I’m not perfect.”

               Alex scrunched his nose. Max was reminded of a kitten. “Aren’t you though? Tall, dark, and handsome,” he nudged his chin at the notebook poking out of Max’s back pocket. “And you write.”

               Max smirked. “But you’re all of those things.”

               Alex blinked, startled, and Max could’ve sworn he saw a pink tint across his cheeks. Maybe it was just too dark.

               Max cleared his throat and went on. “You should know then, better than anyone, that it doesn’t matter how good-looking you are. Sooner or later, some people just give up trying to get close to you.”

               “Is that what you’re doing?” Alex scoffed halfheartedly. “Trying to get close to me?”

               He wouldn’t look at Max as he said it, as if he was sure that was not what was going on. It made Max’s words come out more smoothly than he’d expected. “Yes. It is.”

               Alex stopped, surprised. Max also stopped and faced him. He could see Liz and Kyle stop out of the corner of his eyes, and prayed they couldn’t hear him.

               When he spoke, the lie left his lips with a little more trouble. “I like you, Alex. I – I always have. I’ve wanted to talk to you for years, but I . . . I’m not good at . . .” he gestured at his entire self, as if to say everything about him was an obstacle.

               “That’s why Michael brought me to the show tonight,” he said. “He knew I’ve wanted to talk to you forever. And I finally got to.”

               Alex stared, his expression unreadable. For a terrifying moment, Max wondered if he saw through the charade. Then he said, “You like me?”

               He said it more like a statement, a dare. Max could only nod once, gripping his notebook so tightly his knuckles turned white.

               Then he saw it. The doubt and suspicion behind Alex’s eyes. Alex sighed and kept walking. “Then let’s see how long,” he said, “until you give up, too.”

               *

               Max Evans stared. A lot.

               Alex was not new to people watching him. Everyone was usually curious about the youngest of the Manes brothers until they realized just how different and unapproachable Alex was, and then their curiosity’s limit showed.

               But the longer Max stared, the more curious he seemed to become. If he wasn’t glancing at Alex’s hair or eyeliner, he was looking at Alex’s bracelets, the rings on his fingers, the drawings on his shirt, his necklace, his nail polish.

               Alex felt like he was being studied. It was weird. He wished Michael was here to get Max to stop staring. He wished he could snap at Max to look away, but the guy was like a walking cinnamon roll. It was impossible to get angry at him without feeling bad.

               When Alex ordered his Neapolitan ice cream, Max not only insisted on paying for it, but offered a spoon of his own lemon sherbet cup for Alex to try.

               “Don’t you have, like, hundreds of other friends you could be spending Friday night with?” Alex finally asked.

               “Just my brother and sister,” Max confessed, picking at his sorbet. “Hey, since it’s Saturday tomorrow, y-you want to do something?” Then, as if it was an afterthought, added, “Together.”

               “No,” Alex grumbled around his spoon.

               “Why not?”

               “Because I always spend Saturdays with Michael,” he said, and immediately longed for Michael again. He wondered if he was having a lot more fun than Alex was right now. He tried not to think any harder about where Michael might be.

               “Oh,” Max said quietly. Alex glanced at him and saw that he was awkwardly tipping the melted part of his sherbet into his mouth. His lips twitched before he quickly schooled his features.

               He thought that would be the end of that conversation, but then Max asked, “If he cancels, you wanna do something?”

               Alex frowned. “Why would you think he’d cancel?”

               “Just . . .” he shrugged. “He kinda does what he wants, you know?”

               “Michael never cancels on me,” Alex bit back.

               He nodded, but wouldn’t look at Alex again. “Sorry.”

               Alex faltered. There it was, that guilt again. Saturdays belonged to him and Michael. He didn’t want anyone else coming along. He continued quietly eating his ice cream. At least maybe now Max would know to give up this ridiculous chase.

               “Well, maybe Sunday then?”

               Alex blinked and looked up. “W-What?”

               Max was smiling nervously, swirling the contents of his sherbet. “There’s – well, there’s this museum for fine art pieces. I – I heard it’s really cool, I’ve been meaning to go, but Isobel and Michael don’t really . . . like paintings and sculptures.” He shook his head. “Sorry, I know you must not either, I – I don’t know why I thought you would –”

               “Paintings?” Alex couldn’t help but ask. “Like Potthast? And Einaudi?”

               Max blinked. “Y-You know about them?”

               “I mean,” Alex scrunched his shoulders. “I’m not an idiot. I love any artist who pours themselves into their work. It’s” – he blushed – “inspiring.”

               Max perked up. “Right?! I’d do anything to be a writer, you know? Seeing people love something as much as I love books, it kind of makes me feel like . . .”

               “Like it all has to mean something,” Alex finished, smiling to himself. “I can’t love it this much for nothing.”

               Max huffed a laugh. He looked surprised, his cheeks tinted pink. “Yeah! Yeah, exactly . . .”

               Neither of them said anything for the next minute. Alex rubbed the sole of his shoe against the pavement and cleared his throat.

               “I mean,” he finally said, “I guess . . . if I’m really not doing anything Sunday . . . I can come. B-But only if Michael’s coming, too! I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

               Max didn’t say anything, and Alex chanced a glance at him to see he had a small smile.

               “What?” he demanded. “I said I’d – I’d come. M-Maybe!”

               Max nodded. “Er – can I have your number?”

               Don’t do it, Alex thought. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it. Max was just a stranger.

               But he’s not a complete stranger, he reminded himself. He was Michael’s brother, and if Michael was letting him get this close to their tight little group, then he must’ve trusted that Alex was safe around him. And he could trust Michael more than anyone to look after him. He knew he could.

               “Yeah,” he said, handing Max his phone without looking at him. He saw Liz and Kyle watch him from across the street where they were twirling around a lamppost. They were tilting their heads and smirking, like they knew something he didn’t.

               Alex cleared his throat, and, as if his friends could hear him, added in a mutter, “Whatever.”

               Even Max smiled at that.

               *

               The next morning, Max woke to knocking on his window. He saw Michael and leapt out of bed, letting him in.

               “Can’t you knock like a normal person?”

               “Didn’t want to wake anyone else up,” he said. He smelled like he’d spent all of last night drinking, but his curls were wild, like he’d walked for hours in the desert instead of lying in someone’s bed.

               He nudged Max aside and sat cross-legged on his bed, shoes and all. “Tell me about Alex,” he said. “How’d last night go?”

               Max put his pillows up and slumped against them. “Fine. Good. Okay, I guess. He was mostly quiet the whole time. Did you have to blow him off like that?”

               Michael looked down and clenched his jaw. “Don’t remind me,” he grumbled. “I hated not being there. The whole time she was talking in my ear, I was trying not to get her to gag on me. I almost called Alex like fifty times!”

               He shook his head, as if eager to be rid of the memory. “Forget me. So he didn’t say anything the entire night?”

               “No,” Max said. “He did. I got him talking about music and other artists and stuff. I even asked him out to the museum today, just like you said.”

               Michael clapped him on the shoulder, happy. “Yeah? Max Evans, you sly dog!”

               Max couldn’t share in his enthusiasm. Would Michael have been so happy if he’d seen the look on Alex’s face last night? The way he defended him even when it was clear that his own heart was breaking?

               “Yeah,” Max said, rubbing his eye. “Said no.”

               “Well,” Michael shrugged a shoulder, “it’s not like he was going to fall in love with you in a few hours.”

               “Actually,” Max said, “he said he might be able to come tomorrow. He can’t today because you guys usually hang out on Saturdays.”

               Michael raised a brow. “Oh yeah?” He hummed, studying the blanket. After a long few minutes, he said, “I might . . . just call him and –”

               “Er –” Max cut him off, “he was pretty adamant that you would never cancel on him. Even after . . . you kind of already did.”

               Michael’s shoulders slumped, and he looked away. He muttered, “Yeah?”

               “Yeah, Michael,” Max sighed. “Look, can’t you just talk to him about this? It looks like he really cares about you, I’m sure if you told him what you heard –”

               “He’d hate me,” Michael said. “Imagine finding out that the one person you like knows you like them, and it makes them uncomfortable. Would you ever be able to look them in the face again?”

               Max pressed the heel of his palm into his eye. “And you’re sure you don’t like Alex like that? At all?”

               Michael looked up, holding his brother’s gaze. Max had never seen him so fierce. “I can’t date him, Max.”

               “Why not?” Max said. “You don’t think your relationship would survive a breakup?”

               “I can’t risk it,” he said. “I won’t.”

               Max almost pointed out that that wasn’t an answer, but decided not to. “Fine, well,” he laid back down and turned his back to Michael, trying to fall asleep again. “He’s not going anywhere with me on a Saturday, so see you tomorrow.”

               Michael did not leave, or say anything for a good long while. Then Max heard shuffling, and tapping. He peeked an eye open and saw Michael texting. Immediately, the look on Alex’s face last night hit him and he sat up.

               “What’re you doing?” he demanded, reaching for Michael’s phone. Michael kept himself out of reach. “Michael, I told you, if you cancel –”

               “I’m not canceling,” Michael murmured, brows pinched. “Just texting someone.” His finger hovered over the screen a moment before he hit send. “There,” he said, pocketing his phone. He didn’t look any happier than he’d been seconds ago. “Now Alex will be the one asking you out.”

               Max’s shoulders slumped. “What’d you do?”

               Michael didn’t answer, but the guilt on his face said it all. He was about to break Alex’s heart.

               *

               Alex had woken early. Last night he’d climbed through his window to his father banging on his door. He’d managed to sneak under the covers and play asleep the second Jesse had burst through, but he knew his luck wouldn’t last.

               It hadn’t mattered, because there was nothing that was going to keep him from an entire day with Michael. So he’d risen early, forgotten about breakfast at the risk of running into his father and being trapped inside again, and just had water from the hydro flask he kept by his bed – he didn’t care, he would eat later with Michael. He’d thrown on his favorite skull and crossbones t-shirt, his silver skull choker, and his rings.

               He felt silly fixing his hair in the mirror, running his hand through it so that the strands looked windswept. It wasn’t hard, as his hair rarely stayed down neatly. He’d learned to live with it.

               Michael wouldn’t ever like him like he liked girls, he knew that, but maybe . . . maybe some part of him might find Alex attractive. Maybe he might look at him differently without realizing that he was looking at him differently.

               It was dumb, but he could hope.

               At least, he had hoped until Michael met him in front of their favorite coffeeshop with his arm around Maria DeLuca’s shoulders. Alex had been holding two coffees, a caramel macchiato for him and a mocha for Michael, because he loved chocolate. He’d nearly dropped them at the sight.

               “Hey!” Michael called.

               “Uh – hey, Alex,” Maria smiled awkwardly. “Guerin,” she said, “I thought we were hanging out today.”

               “We are!” Michael smiled widely, taking his coffee and handing it to her. “With Alex! I always spend Saturdays with Alex.”

               “B-But . . .” Alex looked between them. He could feel his heart slowly sinking into his stomach. He pressed his lips together in a quick smile to Maria and tugged Michael aside by his sleeve. “What’s going on?” he whispered. “We always spend Saturdays together.”

               Michael tilted his head. “We are together.”

               “Alone,” Alex insisted. “Just you and me, remember? We’ve never invited anyone else. And . . . Guerin, Maria?”

               Michael laughed. He was laughing far too easily, and smiling way too much. He knew that of all people, bringing Maria would be a real sting. Didn’t he care about how Alex felt? And today of all days?

               “Come on, Alex,” he said. “I’m just trying to have a little fun here.”

               Alex felt like he’d just been slapped. “S-So being with me isn’t fun?”

               Michael rolled his eyes like he thought Alex was messing around. Alex, horrifically, thought he might cry.

               “Am I supposed to turn down a hot girl for you?” he said, taking Alex’s coffee and having a sip. “Seriously, so Maria’s coming. What’s the big deal, right? I mean, it’s not like we’re dating.”

               He reached out to pat Alex’s shoulder, but Alex flinched back, away from his touch. For a split second, Michael’s face fell and he looked mortified. But it was gone so quickly that Alex was sure he must’ve imagined it.

               He felt guilty, and dramatic, and pathetic. He felt cast aside, unwanted. All of that was okay, he was used to it. Maybe not from Michael, never from Michael, but he was used to it.

               So he did what he always did when he was reminded just how worthless he was. He forced his chin up, exhaled shakily, and kept his words steady. “I actually just remembered that Max wanted to go to a museum thing today.”

               Michael was still smiling. It felt wrong, but Alex couldn’t look at him too long to read into it. “Oh yeah?”

               “Yeah,” Alex took another few steps back. He couldn’t remember ever wanting to be away from Michael, but at this moment nowhere felt far away enough. “He sounded like he really wanted me to go with him, but I had to say no because of today.” He moved further away. “I really wanted to go, too, to be honest. It sounded cool.”

               “Yeah?” Michael sounded quieter. Maybe that was just because of the distance between them.

               “So if you’re going to hang out with someone else, then I guess it’s okay if I go, too?”

               Michael didn’t answer for a minute. “Yeah. No, yeah, that’s great. Works out for both of us, huh?”

               Alex turned around so Michael didn’t see his face fall. “Yeah,” he said, and began walking away. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

               Before Michael could say anything else, Alex pulled out his phone. He wouldn’t dial until he rounded the corner and was out of Michael’s sight. He fell back against the wall, his legs giving out under him. He held the phone to his forehead, breathing deeply.

               Kyle, he knew, was on a camping trip for the weekend with his dad. Liz was busy working shifts at the Crashdown.

               It’s okay, Alex told himself. It’s okay. You don’t need anybody. It’s okay.

               He may not have needed anyone, but he didn’t want to be alone today. So he dialed Max’s name, and held the phone to his ear.

               It rung twice, then Max answered. “Alex?” There was hesitation in his voice that made Alex blush. Was he not actually expecting Alex to call?

               “Er – hey,” Alex murmured, and rubbed his face with one hand. “Look, t-turns out I’m free today after all . . . If you . . . still want to go to the museum . . .”

               Max didn’t answer for a long few seconds.

               “O-Or not,” he said quickly, “doesn’t really matter to me, I just thought –”

               “Yeah!” Max said, “Yeah, I’m – sorry, I was changing. I’m ready to go when you are! Where do you want me to meet you?”

               Alex’s shoulders slumped. He felt a strange relief trickling through his chest, but it didn’t ease the weight on his heart. He muttered, “Wherever you want. Just text me the address.”

               He waited for Max’s okay, then hung up. He rested his chin on his knees as he waited for the message to come in, closing his eyes and promising himself that he would not cry.

                 Max didn’t live in a house. He lived in a mansion. The two story villa stretched out over a valley of cacti and desert flowers, the windows long and the front doors big enough to fit ten grown men standing side by side. Michael had once told Alex how he’d sneak in through his brother and sister’s windows, and Alex now had to wonder how.

               No sooner had he gotten to the door than Max came stumbling out, a bag thrown over his shoulder.

               “Hey,” he panted, “let’s go.”

               Without waiting for Alex’s greeting, he bodily turned Alex around and nudged him back toward the road. Alex was not new to being hidden away by boys who’d rather their parents not see him, but he’d already had his plans with Michael ruined, and was in no mood to humor any homophobia.

               “What?” he sighed. “Afraid mommy and daddy will know you asked out a guy?”

               Max blinked, surprised. He stopped. “What’re you talking about? I’m not trying to hide you from my parents.” He looked over his shoulder as if remembering they were supposed to be in a hurry, and frog-marched Alex away again.

               “Oh?” Alex rolled his eyes. He tried to ground his heels to make it harder for Max but had no will to do it. He was tired, but anything was better than spending the day curled up in bed, abandoned and pitiful. “The who are we trying to hide from?”

               “My . . . crap . . .” Max trailed off, and, following his gaze, Alex understood why. At the end of the road, her arms crossed, her purse hanging off one elbow, was Isobel Evans. She did not look happy.

               “Sneaking off?” she demanded. “Who do you think you are? Michael?”

               “Isobel,” Max warned. “Not now.”

               “Did you honestly think you could hide your date?” Isobel narrowed her eyes at Alex. “Huh. You weren’t kidding. It really is Alex Manes.” She reached a hand towards his face. “You were right, he is very pretty –”

               “Isobel,” Max slid in between Alex and Isobel, forbidding her from touching him. “I never said that.” Then to Alex, “I never said that. N-Not that you’re not – I mean, clearly you are –”

               He shook his head, and turned back to Isobel, his jaw clenched. “I’m not kidding, leave us alone.”

               Isobel was relentless, tilting her head over her brother’s shoulder, since she was almost as tall as he was. “Oh, what do you think I’m going to do, Max? Get out of the way, let me look at him!”

               “Alex,” Max said, his wary eyes on his sister, “I am so sorry about this.”

               “Sorry about what?” she demanded. “I didn’t do anything! Get out of the way, Max! Do you have any idea how rare it is to get a look at him this up close?!”

               “He’s not an octopus, Isobel!”

               “It’s a compliment!” She told Alex, “It’s a compliment, it means you’re really cute.”

               “We have to go,” Max insisted, fending off his sister’s reaching hands. “We have a thing at the museum and –”

                “What museum? Why didn’t you invite me? I want to come with you!”

               “NO!”

               “Why not?”

               “Because you’ll make it weird!”

               “What does that even mean? Scared I’ll embarrass you in front of your new boyfriend?”

               “Isobel!”

               Watching them, Alex should’ve been annoyed. But Max was being gentle with his sister, and Isobel’s eyes were so genuine that Alex could tell her curiosity was innocent and eager. There didn’t seem to be a malicious bone in either of their bodies.

               Crouching behind a building just half an hour ago, Alex had not thought he’d be able to smile for the rest of the day. Now, a giggle escaped his lips before he could help it.

               Max and Isobel stopped and stared, wide eyed. Max’s cheeks were tinted pink. Alex pretended not to notice.

               “Isobel,” he said wearily, “you want to come with us?”

               Isobel looked momentarily surprised, then pleased, a satisfied grin stretching across her pink lips. She lightly shouldered her way past Max and hooked her arm around Alex’s.

               “I like him,” Isobel said cheerfully, and pulled Alex down the road. Alex looked over his shoulder at Max, who blinked out of his haze and ran to catch up to them.

               “Why would you invite her?” Max murmured.

               Alex took one look at Isobel and smiled, something about her radiant demeanor an interesting contrast to the darkness he lived in. Maybe it was having a writer with him, maybe it was that he was kind of a writer himself, but he thought there was a fascinating story here between the three of them.

               To Max, however, he merely shrugged a shoulder and smirked.

               “Come on, Evans,” he said. “I wouldn’t want you to think this was a date.”

               Max again blushed, and Alex again pretended not to notice.

Ahhhh here it is!!! Finally!!!

I know only three to four people may enjoy this, but I wrote it mostly for me, so my expectations are low. Or, I should say, that’s how I’m trying to keep them. Don’t ask me how long until the next chapter comes up, this is just supposed to be fun. Any questions about updates shall be ignored.

That said, if you did enjoy it, comment! Tell me what you liked, if it was funny, angsty, if it’s not your kind of thing but you decided to give it a chance anyway - I love that stuff. And share/reblog. You may not have liked it, but maybe someone else really will!

[bansheeoftheforest]

I see that amnesia keeps sneaking into all of your AUs, so I’m gonna raise you this:

Amnesia + short term memory loss

This could be a branch for any of your AUs or maybe its own AU- Jekyll suffers some sort of head injury and bam- suddenly he forgets everything. On top of that, everything that his brain doesn’t register as long term memory just.. vanishes after a while. (It can be a few hours, or even minutes….)

Shenanigans ensue:

Henry regularly forgets who everyone is despite the constant introductions- meaning that he meets Robert “for the first time” multiple times. Which means that he falls in love with him over and over and over every single day-

They all reintroduce themselves to Jekyll, and while Henry learns Robert and Rachel’s names after some days, some lodgers aren’t quite as lucky. (Jekyll: oh I need to ask you something… uhm… Francis. Mr. Griffin, who has been called every name under the sun except his own for a month: ….yes?)

Jekyll keeps forgetting what people say to him after just a few minutes. (Lanyon: Henry don’t eat the biscuits- we’re gonna have dinner soon. Jekyll: oh sure. [2 minutes later] Jekyll, glances to his right and sees the cookie jar: oh! biscuits! :D)

Although his short term memory is damaged, Henry can still store information through his long term memory; so if he works hard on remembering something (through journaling? Journaling helps), or if his brain just deems it important enough, Henry can form new memories. This makes it particularly heartwarming when Robert offhandedly tells him something like “oh yeah purple is my favorite color.” one time, and a few days later Jekyll is like “I got you a rose! :D” and it’s a PURPLE ROSE,, and Robert is trying not to cry because Henry remembered his favorite color—

Look, the angst that could become of this au is obvious, but I just... I love the wholesomeness of it, too. Like, Henry being so excited to meet all these new people and realizing that they are his friends!!! He has a lot of friends and they like him!! And most of them (like the Carews, Brokenshire, and all other friends Henry has outside of the Society, together with the Lodgers of course) don't mind having to reintroduce themselves over and over because, hey, it's Jekyll we are talking about. He is as sociable as a golden retriever puppy. He can and will almost jump up and down with pure happiness when he gets introduced to a close friend of his and despite not remembering it, he will ask them a bunch of questions about themselves and their relationship. Just Henry being so happy and carefree because... Well, he can't remember all the bad things that happened to him, and he can't really remember all those gentlemen lessons that Robert taught him. He is just happy!

Also; Henry always feeling bad about forgetting people's names so he just... Ends up taking his journal, asks all Lodgers for their names (full names, even, just to hammer it into his brain) and then he draws a little doodle of the Lodger next to their name so he can use it as some sort of lexicon or dictionary when he forgets their name. Give me Henry about to ask a lodger something, immediately picks up his journal, flows through the pages until he gets to the doodle that matches them, and then looks up and hesitantly says their name and give me the Lodgers being so happy and excited about it!!!!

No cookies being safe in the hands of Henry Jekyll because, while he tries to be a good boy, he always forgets what people tells him and biscuits are so hard to resist.

Goddamnit!!! It's so adorable. Henry remembering something and being so excited about it, or maybe he doesn't notice when he remembers something. He will he talking with the Lodgers and they will mention something and Henry will go "Oh! That happened at the same time as X, right?" and the Lodgers will just go !!!!!!! Because Henry remembered something!!! Probably something completely useless but it's still something!!!!! Just.... Hghghhgngngngngn. I love this. It's so wholesome and I absolutely love it. Just... An au with angst potential but no angst yes and please <3<3<3<3

[hopelikethemoon]

Room Service (Javier x Reader) {MTMF} [smut]

Title: Room Service Rating: Explicit Length: 2500 Warnings: Smut (bathtub sex) Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set May 22nd, 1998 after “I Do”. I had a lot more planned for today, as it’s the 100th update of MTMF, but my brain was like “boo you suck” all day so HERE WE ARE. Summary: Reader and Javier celebrate after their wedding. 

@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale  @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand​ @historynerd04​ @mrsparknuts @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper @awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @frietiemeloen @arrowswithwifi @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl  @yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx @punkass-potato @coredrive @pascalesque @theduchessofkirkcaldy @queenquazar @sabinemorans @buckstaposition @holkaskrosnou @yespolkadotkitty @fleetwoodmactshirt @seeking-a-great–perhaps

You traced your fingers over your name and Javier’s as you stared down at the marriage certificate that legally bound the two of you together. Marriage used to feel like a restrictive societal construct that was used and abused by people. The thought of getting married used to fill you with dread — you could still remember how anxious you felt after Lance had offhandedly mentioned his own desires to get married and have a family. 

And then there was Javier. 

He wasn’t particularly old fashioned, but you had known for awhile now that he wouldn’t mind marrying you. Hell, he wore a band on his left ring finger that was meant to look like a wedding band. 

You tucked the certificate in between the pages of the travel map you had brought, before stowing it in the interior pocket of your suitcase. You’d have to get a protective sleeve for it when you got back to Miami — and update whatever needed to be updated to reflect that you were married. 

There was a knock at the door and you rose from the bed to open the door. 

“Room service.” Javier said with a put-on voice as he walked inside, brandishing two bottles of champagne. 

“Oh, I don’t remember ordering room service.” You teased as you shut the door behind him. “I think you have the wrong room.”

“I believe your husband ordered these.” He winked at you, his lips drawn into a grin. 

You bit down on your bottom lip as you leaned in to him, ruffling your fingers through his hair as you lean up to kiss him. “I do have one of those now.”

You took the bottles from his hands and walked over to the counter where the coffee pot was. “Champagne from a plastic cup or a coffee mug?”

Javier moved in behind you, his arms snaking around your waist as he rested his chin against your shoulder. “Plastic cup.” He kissed the curve of your neck, “I thought we might utilize that fancy tub in the bathroom.”

Your brows quirked upwards and you caught his reflection in the mirror in front of you. “What are we celebrating again?”

He cupped your jaw and turned your head so he could kiss you. You turned in his arms, draping them over his shoulders. 

You smiled against his lips, brushing your noses against his as you pulled back to meet his eyes, “I swear Javi, a five minute ceremony in the city hall has taken five years off of you.” You traced your finger down the side of his cheek, before curling it around the back of his neck. 

Javier chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m just happy. Real fucking happy, baby.” 

“Me too.” You whispered as you kissed him again, letting it linger before you pulled back. “Go get the water running and I’ll pop the corks on these.” 

Javier stole another kiss before he reluctantly released you and headed into the bathroom. You grabbed the small hand towel that was sitting beside the coffee pot, covering the neck of the bottle as you twisted the bit of metal that held the cork in place. You leaned it to the side and worked the cork out. 

Somehow celebrating your wedding in a hotel room in San Francisco, with two bottles of champagne and plastic cups screamed perfect to you. 

Nothing about your relationship with Javier had been particularly flashy. Even the details of it had been intentionally downplayed for the news. No one needed to know. 

Only your family — Monica, Nadia, and Steve and Connie — knew the truth. And you were content with keeping it that way. 

You placed the cups over the open bottles of champagne and followed Javier into the bathroom. 

“I’m glad we’re finally getting some use out of this thing. Right before we go home, of course.” You grinned as you sat the bottles down on the broad side of the tub. It was clearly designed to be entertained in. 

Javier swept his fingers through his hair, flashing you a grin. “Better late than never.”

“The theme of our lives.” You quipped, snapping your finger and shooting finger guns at him. “You should feel very proud of yourself.”

“Yeah?”

“Steve always jokes that I domesticated you, but in reality you domesticated me too.” You tilted your head as you met his gaze, a warm smile playing over your lips. “You loved me just enough to convince me to pop the question.”

You took a step towards him, reaching for his left hand and bringing it to your lips. You kissed the spot just above the ring on his finger. 

“You sure I can’t tell Chucho?” Javier questioned as he curled his fingers around yours. 

“Javier!” You laughed as you rolled your eyes. “I guess you can tell him. Just him.” You warned him. “If I find out you’ve told Steve I will be forced to divorce you.”

“Baby.” Javier’s hand curled around your hip, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. “It’s our secret, save for pops.”

You rested your forehead against his, playing your fingers over the back of his neck. “Let’s tell him when we go there for Thanksgiving.”

He nodded, “I don’t know if he’ll believe us.”

You laughed, “I barely believe it.” You tilted your head, brushing your lips over his as your hand moved downwards to work at his belt. “The water’s going to get cold.

“We wouldn’t want that,” Javier said lowly, catching your bottom lip between his teeth and applying just enough pressure as he drew back to make your body throb with want. 

He reached around behind you, drawing the zipper of your dress down your back, letting the red fabric fall around your feet as he stepped forward, causing you to step backwards towards the bathtub.

You pulled his belt loose from the loops, making quick work of the button and zipper — shoving his jeans down his hips. 

“We’re celebrating.” You reminded him, giving his cock a brief squeeze through his boxers before you slipped out of his grip and finished undressing by yourself. 

Javier fixed you with a ravenous look, his gaze raking over your bare skin like it as the first time he’d seen you. “Baby, you’re gorgeous.”

You grinned, watching him undress the rest of the way as you poured the champagne into each cup. “You’re pretty easy on the eyes yourself.” You remarked, biting down on your bottom lip as your gaze flickered to his hardened cock resting against his belly. 

You held out the cup and Javier took it from you. “We gonna toast?” He questioned. 

“Yeah.” You nodded. “To a long life together.”

“To a long life together,” Javier echoed as he tapped the rim of his cup against yours, before you both took a sip. “We’ve got, what? Another good forty years together.”

You sputtered, “Aim high, babe. Let’s say fifty.” The thought of spending a single day without him in your life made your heart ache. You sat the cup down on the edge of the tub as you stepped in, sinking down into the warm water. 

“Think I’ll make it to ninety-seven?” Javier questioned as he moved to sit across from you in the tub. 

“You only smoked for what? Thirty years?” You scrunched up your nose. “Maybe you’ll make it ninety.”

He shook his head, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “I used to think about this shit, you know? Figured I’d end up on the ranch. Alone.”

“Funny,” You started somberly. “I always pictured myself alone too. Living in a small apartment in a city, married to my work. I don’t even think I saw myself having a pet.” You took another sip of champagne. “Now I have everything besides a white picket fence and… I can’t picture another life.”

Javier scratched at his jaw, “Me neither,” He mirrored you as you both took another sip of champagne. “All I see is you.”

“I always used to say that I could do all of this without you. With Josie, at least. But, I don’t think I would’ve really wanted to. You’re part of what makes this life perfect.”

“Aw, baby. You sound like you might want to marry me someday.” He teased, nudging at your leg with his foot beneath the water. 

You flipped him off.

“There’s my girl.”

“Fuck off, Javier.”

“You’re stuck with me.”

You feigned disgust, “What have I done?”

“You were already stuck. You have two kids with me.”

“Touché.” You pursed your lips as you turned to grab the bottle of champagne and moved across the tub to join him. 

You sat the bottle and your cup on the edge as you settled down beside him, leaning back against the edge of the tub. “I can’t wait to see the girls grow up. Josie’s going to be such a spitfire.”

“The older she gets the more obvious it is that she’s your daughter.” Javier remarked, curling his arm around you beneath the water as he took a sip of champagne. 

“She’s a character alright,” You laughed. “We need to get her back into ballet.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck, “What? Not threatened by the dance moms now?”

You slapped his chest playfully, “I was never threatened, buddy.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “And we’re not going back to that dance studio.”

“She enjoyed gymnastics.” Javier mused, finishing off his cup of champagne before grabbing the bottle and refilling. 

You took the bottle from him and drank straight from it, “Sofía is totally you. She’s such a cranky little baby.”

“Oh, trust me. I know.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair. “What are we doing for her birthday?”

“Something small on the Sunday before.” You took another pull from the bottle before passing it back to him. “I did set up a family photo session for the weekend after.”

Javier leaned over and kissed your temple, “Think we can pull Monica into the photo this time?”

“Oh yeah,” You grinned. “She’s got to this time.” You shifted closer to him, your leg pressed against his beneath the water. “Hey, Javi.”

“Yeah?” He turned to look at you. 

“We got married today.”

Javier’s eyes lit up as he met your gaze. “We did. Baby, you made me the happiest man alive today.”

You maneuvered yourself into his lap, straddling his thighs as you leaned in to kiss him. The water lapped at your skin at the wake of your movements. 

“You made me pretty damn happy today too.” You told him, your words muffled against his mouth.

Javier ran his hand up your back, his other hand curling around your hip as he shifted beneath you, his cock pressed right against the apex of your thighs. 

Today truly had been one of the best days of your life. Everything about it had been perfect. From the early morning decisions, to Javier’s vows. To this moment right here. 

You loved him. With every fiber of your being. Against all odds. You were both more than a little broken and yet, from those broken pieces you had created a family for yourselves. 

Javier’s hands dragged up your sides as you rocked against him, sliding your cunt against his cock beneath the water. 

He ran one hand up, fingers tangling in your hair as he grasped at the base of your head and pulled you in for another kiss. 

You grabbed at his shoulder for leverage as you worked your other hand down between you to grasp at his cock. You held him steady, rising up on your knees before lowering yourself onto him. 

Your name spilled from Javier’s lips as you rolled your hips downwards, seating him fully within you. He ran his hand over your lower stomach, sliding his hand around to grab at your hip. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

“So do you.” You whispered, scraping your fingers through his hair as you leaned forward and pressed your forehead to his. “Husband.” You teased, cupping his jaw. 

Javier moved beneath you, leaning forward to brush his lips over the valley between your breasts. He ran a hand up your stomach, skimming his fingers over your ribs before he grasped at your breast. 

He trailed his mouth down the curve of your breast, catching your nipple between his lips and swirling his tongue around the hardened peak. 

A moan rose up the back of your throat and you clenched around him in response as you ground your hips against him. 

He cupped your other breast, teasing the other nipple in tandem with his mouth. He left a row of open-mouthed kisses over your skin, before biting softly at the tender flesh.  

You inhaled sharply and tugged are the soft strands of his hair, drawing his head back as you looked down at him. “Making up for lost time?”

Javier smirked, “You know how much I love your tits, baby.” He drawled out, cupping them both as he palmed them roughly. 

“Forever a tits man.” You laughed, reaching behind him to grab at the edge of the tub, angling yourself so the bounced right in his face as you moved atop him.

He groaned, a low sound that rumbled in his chest as he thrust upwards. He grabbed at your ass, certain to leave bruises there as he left kisses on the soft skin of your breasts. 

You were close. You could feel the tight bind of desire pulling within your belly, threatening to snap. “Fuck. Fuck.” You hissed out as you rotated your hips, trying to get just the right angle. 

Javier dragged his mouth along your collarbone, his tongue sweeping out to taste your skin as he grasped your breast, stroking his thumb over your nipple. 

“Are you going to come for me, baby?” He questioned, his lips coming to rest close to your ear. “I wanna feel you. Wanna feel you come for me.”

The band snapped within you. 

Javier’s released your hip, hand delving beneath the water to the point where his cock was buried within you. He stroked his thumb over your clit, pushing you straight over the edge. 

You cried out, louder than you should’ve, as your body pulsed around him, your release burning hot through your veins. 

Your name was heavy on his tongue as your nails dug into his shoulders, his own release coming quick on the heels of yours. He bucked upwards, holding you tight as he came, his cock pulsing as his seed spilled from him. 

“Javi. Javi.” You whispered as you sought out his lips, kissing him almost desperately. You ran your fingers through his hair, sinking forward against him as little trembles of your release continued. 

Javier curled an arm around you, keeping you pressed to him as you both basked in the moment. 

“Holy… shit.” He laughed, pressing his lips to the side of your head. 

“Keeps getting better.” You mumbled, tracing your finger down the curve of his shoulder. “I love you.”

He gave your hip three squeezes as he trailed his lips down your cheek. “Forever and always.” Javier promised, “Wife.”

You snorted, “Get that out of your system before we get home.”

“I’m never gonna get you out of my system, baby.”

[illyria-12]

Finally decided to post one of my one-shots here. I wasn't going to, as I'm still trying to figure out this platform and my work is on several others... but my friend is ridiculously convincing 😂

Levi X Reader - Flirting With Levi

A cute and fluffy one-shot depicting flirting with Levi. Title kinda says it all. Rated T.

Flirting with Levi was always a bit awkward at first. After the initial explosive kiss that one time in his office, where he admitted he was attracted to you and the two of you had decided to see where ‘this thing goes’, it had taken a long time for the both of you to get comfortable again with each other. Levi had barely even acknowledged your presence for the next two days, which had left you just a bit confused and more than a little unsettled.

You had finally decided enough was enough, and stormed into his office to confront him about his recent shift in attitude. Levi, had never been particularly talkative, but things hadn’t felt this icy between the two of you since you first joined the scouts almost two years ago. This had resulted in a small one-sided argument, where you had vented your frustrations, and Levi had sat quietly at his desk, watching you pace the room exasperatedly and listening to your rant. Right up until the moment you had stalked right up to him, taking his head in both of your hands and pressed your lips to his.

Levi had froze, completely not expecting this meeting to take this sort of turn. He hadn’t responded, neither had he pushed you away. When you released him you had moved back, quite taken by surprise at your own actions and Levi had raised an eyebrow at you incredulously.

“Better?” he asked, his face blank and tone just as monotone as ever. You had thought about it for a second before nodding your head.

“Better.” He smirked and nodded his head at you. You had felt quite uncomfortable and had turned to leave until his voice stopped you.

“(Y/N)...” you had turned to look at him, expecting some sort of lecture to follow about your brash behaviour.

“Bring tea after dinner. If you’re free, you’re welcome to join me.”

And that had been that. You had joined the captain in his office for tea that night, and almost every night there after. Some nights you would just sit in each others company, engaging in light conversation here and there while he worked, other nights you would read quietly on the couch, some nights you would clean his office, and some nights you would help with his never ending paperwork.

Those nights had quickly become your favourite. Levi would always tell you to bring your chair next to him, claiming he didn’t trust you to not mess it up. But you didn’t care for the reasons, you were just happy to sit close to him. When you felt particularly brave, you would brush your shoulder against his, feigning innocence the whole time. The first time, Levi had momentarily stopped writing, though he did nothing else. He just paused, noticing the action but not actively recognising it. And as far as you were concerned, if he didn’t pull you up about it, it was okay.

The first time you had brushed your hand against his in an innocent display of affection, he had recognised it. Watching your hand intently. You had been watching for his reaction, cautiously caressing the back of his hand with yours. He had just stared, clearly unsure of how to react for a moment, before he had laced his fingers with yours and continued writing. You felt your heart soar at the subtle gesture. He always had the same sort of reaction with every touch. Whether it be you grabbing his arm to get his attention, or nudging him playfully with your arm while you chatted, he always just looked for a moment, as if deciding whether he liked the affection or not. You found it quite amusing.

One particularly long night you had rested your head on his shoulder, groaning about the amount of paperwork he had to complete. You had both been working at it for a good couple of hours, and it had been a pretty intense day as it was. You were tired, and were pretty certain Levi was too. Levi had looked at you again, in his usual unsure way before pressing his lips to the top of your head, kissing you gently as his fingers stroked your knuckles on the hand he was currently holding. You had smiled, not complaining again for the rest of the night.

It had not taken long after that, for you to muster up the courage to amp up your affections. Delicately running your fingers through his hair or greeting him with a quick kiss on the cheek when you brought tea to his office. Levi never commented on your displays, just regarded you quietly with a thoughtful expression. You were always the bolder one in your affections, usually the one to initiate contact, but never overstepping. You knew Levi was adjusting and was happy to be patient. The fact that he would never rebuff your advances and would very occasionally reciprocate was enough for you.

Leaving his office one night, you bid him goodnight in your usual way. Kissing his cheek affectionately as you released his hand, murmuring a goodnight, watching as his lips twitched into a soft smile and he bid you goodnight. You smiled, feeling more confident and gently touched his face. He looked at you, slight confusion etched onto his usually stoic features and you quickly leaned in, gently taking his lips in a soft kiss.

Levi had stiffened, but had not pulled away. You lingered for a moment, pushing a little closer before pulling away. His eyes giving nothing away as he gave his usual stare. You smiled, leaning back in to kiss him again, less innocently this time, moving your lips timorously against his. Your heart pounded in your chest and your steady breathing faltered when you felt him respond, pressing back gently, his lips parting so slightly.

From that day, you would kiss him every night, and every night he would respond.

Levi soon grew accustomed to your affections, no longer regarding little touches in such an awkward way and barely paid them any mind. He had also started to encourage your tenderness, often reaching for your hand unflinchingly to hold it. He had a nice habit of running his fingers through your hair when you rested your head on his desk. You did this often when you were tired late at night, wanting to sleep but not wanting to leave his side.

You were getting ready to head back to your room one night when you turned to him. He looked at you softly and your brows furrowed slightly.

“You never kiss me.” You had stated offhandedly. Levi’s own brows had furrowed slightly in a mix of mild confusion and amusement.

“I kiss you all the time.” He replied, remembering how he had not gone a day without kissing you for the last couple of months. You had shook your head, smile ever present on your face.

“Noo... I kiss you. You merely respond to my advances.” You corrected. You had been right. Despite the first time in his office where Levi had literally grabbed you and kissed you so intensely, he had not initiated anything since. His eyes narrowed slightly.

“Why is that a problem?” he questioned curiously, trying to understand what the issue was here. You chuckled and rolled your eyes.

“Because... it sort of feels like you’re not interested.” He frowned.

“If I wasn’t interested I wouldn’t allow you to kiss me in the first place.” There was nothing wrong with what he said. That was a solid response. However, you would not be that easily deterred tonight.

“Well regardless, I am not leaving tonight until you give me a kiss.” His eyebrows rose slightly and a small smile threatened his lips at your cunning. He looked away for a moment, eyes finding interest in the small stack of papers on his desk as he let out a small chuckle.

“Is that a fact?” His voice showed no amusement, but his eyes were soft as he sighed and looked back at you. You gave a cheeky shrug, still smiling at him. Levi must know you well enough by now to know just how stubborn you could be. He shook his head and leaned forward, gently pressing his lips to yours in the quickest kiss ever before he pulled away.

“Happy?” you pulled a small face in wry amusement, tilting your head to either side.

“Hmmm... maybe...” you teased, earning yourself an eye roll from the irked captain.

“But this time can you kiss me like you actually want to have sex with me and not like I’m your mother or something?” Levi’s eyes narrowed considerably but he accepted your challenge, reaching forward, hand cupping the back of your head as he kissed you again.

He deepened the kiss almost instantly, his lips moving against yours in coordinated motions. Your heart thundered in your chest. Levi hadn’t kissed you like this since that one time. That kiss had been full of passion and want and need, an attempt to portray what he had wanted to say without words. Levi was not great with words. But since then, he had reduced his fervour considerably, never initiating a kiss and certainly not responding to it with this much vigour.

It took your breath away.

You felt his tongue glide effortlessly into your mouth and almost jumped at the action before throwing yourself back into it heartedly. Levi took your bottom lip gently between his teeth, giving it a playful nip before he pulled away and observed you. His eyes were focused, locking onto yours heatedly.

“Happy?” he asked. It took you a second to respond, your body burning up and head hazy from such a passionate kiss. You nodded your head and smiled happily at him.

“Happy.”

Flirting with Levi was always especially fun when it was unexpected. You had a habit of saying things that were often, in his eyes, unwarranted, and it provided you with great entertainment to watch his reactions.

Something simple like giving him a pet name, would bring about a cold, hard stare. He didn’t approve of them, that much had been made very obvious. You had walked into his office with tea one day, feeling particularly chipper and beamed at him .

“Hey cutie.” His eyes had immediately found yours, no trace of humour as he had looked at you disbelievingly before returning his gaze to his paperwork.

“Too far.”

And that had been the end of that. As far as he was concerned. However, as far as you were concerned, it had just been the starting point. You continued to throw the occasional name at him and every time, he would respond in exactly the same way. Once he had not even glanced up at you, just said your name in warning and you had chuckled but stopped.

So pet names were a no go.

You had discovered however, that suggestive touches, were not quite on the taboo list. Standing behind him and giving him a hug was apparently acceptable, and he didn’t seem to mind the soft kisses you would place on his neck. A small nip to his ear, had made him stiffen, the grip on his pen had intensified and his head had automatically jerked, shoulder rising slightly in an attempt to stop the action.

“Woman!” He had said, his voice taking on a slight warning tone to it, reprimanding you. But you had a feeling there was no real substance to it. You had chuckled against his neck, running a hand through his hair as he continued to work.

Placing your hand on his thigh whilst sitting beside him, had earned you a solid glare, though he had done nothing else. Until you had started to draw lazy patterns with the tips of your fingers, nails now and again scratching ever so lightly at the sensitive skin underneath. Then he had gripped your hand, stilling your movements and laced his fingers with yours, opting to hold the pesky hand in order to stop its distracting touches. You had smiled, trying to contain the giggle that was threatening to spill but had not continued.

Surprisingly, Levi had been the one to offer for you to stay the night in his bed. There had been no grand romantic gesture, nothing to spark the offer, he had just simply asked. And you were more than happy to accept. It had been nice. Levi had wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him while his other arm had slid under the pillows and held your hand. You had certainly not expected such a level of intimacy from the usually composed captain, yet you were in no hurry whatsoever to push it away. It had given you butterflies in your stomach to just be lying next to him in such a way.

He had offered again the following week.

And the week after that.

And several days after that.

At breakfast one day, you took your seat next to your raven haired boyfriend, flashing him a small smile, which he ignored as usual and listened to the flurry of conversation going on around the table.

After a few moments, you nudged him, gaining his attention.

“You not talking to me today?” you teased, smiling playfully at the captain. His lips twitched into a small smirk.

“You haven’t said anything yet.” You rolled your eyes, spooning your porridge, but smile staying firmly in place.

“You could try making conversation, you know?” you teased and he scoffed.

“I could, you’re right.” He deadpanned. You knew Levi was still, to this day, trying to get used to your playful and friendly nature. He was also, still getting used to your relationship. And though things had progressed steadily, and he had improved drastically since the first week, you both knew there was still plenty of room for improvement. You both also knew, however, conversation was really not his strong point.

“Okay, fine... I’ll talk...” Levi turned his attention back to his tea, though still intently listening to you. The first time he had done this you had been incredibly insulted, assuming he was dismissing you, until he had reiterated everything you had said word for word and effectively shut you up.

“How is the new training exercise going?” you asked. He sipped his tea and nodded.

“Fine.” You smiled more, he was never one to make this easy for you. You nudged him again.

“Maybe you can take me sometime?” Levi’s head immediately snapped to look at you, his ears picking up your suggestive tone and eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

You had a tendency to put a twist on a lot of seemingly innocent conversations, quickly adding a sexual innuendo to them. It had taken him a while to notice, but now it was like second nature to him.

“Are you flirting with me?” he asked incredulously. You chuckled a little, resting your hand on his thigh under the table, noticing him jolt a little before his hand wrapped around yours, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention in the middle of breakfast.

“Of course not! If I were flirting with you, your pants would be off already.” Your tone was completely dispassionate, as if you had said nothing out of the ordinary.

Levi’s reaction was instant. His eyes momentarily widening at your remark before fixing you with a hard glare, jaw clenching slightly. You couldn’t stop the smile at his reaction as you took a spoonful of porridge, ignoring the bellowing laughter from Hanji who had obviously overheard your little comment.

“Too far?” you asked teasingly, eyes dancing with amusement and playfulness and he nodded.

“Too far.”

Something that always threw you off guard, was how serious Levi could sound when he very rarely decided to entertain your advances. You were usually always the one to flirt with him. However, he had his moments, and they always came out of the blue.

You had been cleaning his office one day, talking absentmindedly at him. Not to him... because that would suggest that the conversation was flowing, and Levi had barely uttered a word since you had arrived. You were definitely talking at him. Levi was working at his desk as you talked, not knowing really whether he was even listening, but not really caring either. He let out a long sigh.

“If you’re going to stay here and continue prattling, at least take your clothes off and distract me properly.” Your eyes had damn near popped out of their sockets, head flying to look at Levi who regarded you with his usual distant expression. You were totally lost for words, had he really just said that? And so flippantly? You had felt the rising blush dust your cheeks and quickly looked away, silencing yourself instantly. Your reaction had not gone unnoticed by the captain and he chuckled as he approached you.

“Well that certainly seems to have shocked the shit out of you, doesn’t it?” his hand reached up to gently caress your warm cheek as he kissed your forehead softly.

“You could have asked me nicely.” You grumbled, turning back to the bookshelf you had been inspecting and continued looking for a book to read. His hands snaked around your waist, locking together around your abdomen as his head rested neatly on your shoulders, lips brushing against your ear as he hummed gently in agreement.

“Hm, alright. Take your clothes off please.” Your blush intensified as his husky voice washed over you and you clicked your tongue at him.

“I meant, you could have asked me to be quiet nicely!” you hissed, earning a chuckle from the man behind you as his lips pressed against your head.

“My mistake.” He teased, releasing you and heading back over to his desk, apparently satisfied with your level of embarrassment for now.

Flirting with Levi, was something that only got better with time. You liked the fact he was a lot more relaxed with you now, but you still derived pleasure from knowing you could still surprise him from time to time. Your soft touches rarely fazed him now. He was used to your fingers trailing down his back when you wanted attention, though the action still made him shiver. He was used to you distracting him with kisses to his neck and nipping playfully at his ear until he snapped and kissed you. He was used to the sexual innuendos, the more subtle approaches you took.

One thing he wasn’t used to, was your ridiculous pick up lines.

Sitting in front of him one of the evenings, watching him thumbing through the pages of his paperwork and rambling incessantly about how much there was to do you had cocked an eyebrow and smirked.

“Hey, Levi?” you asked, making the man in front of you pause in his stress induced rant and sigh.

“What is it?”

“Smile if you want to have sex with me.” He had almost instantly let out a small chuckle, finding your humour oddly refreshing for a brief moment before he cleared his throat and his gaze fixed firm again, continuing to organise his workload.

“No.” He replied, returning to his previous straight faced expression.

“You smiled.” You teased. His lips twitched, eyes shining with mild entertainment as he released another long sigh.

“Doesn’t mean I want to have sex with you.” He replied, gaze locking on to you for a brief moment and you chuckled, happy to be able to lessen his stress even slightly.

Another scenario had been when you had approached the captain at dinner. He was sat around with the usual crowd and you had came up behind him, slinking your arms around his neck as you brought your lips close to his ear, whispering in a hushed tone so nobody could hear you.

“Are you in to casual sex, or should I dress up?” he had spluttered, almost choking on his tea as you pulled back and sat down beside him, feigning innocence, aside from the sly smile you wore. He glared at you pointedly, and your shoulders shuddered as you fought to repress the laugh in your throat. Almost everyone at the table had looked on in confusion, wondering what the hell had just happened. You waited a few moments until everyone had resumed their conversations before you had nudged him playfully.

“You didn’t answer my question.” You teased, moving back and taking a drink of water. Levi shook his head, refusing to look at you for a second before he leaned close to your ear.

“Doesn’t bother me, it’s coming off anyway.” Your eyes widened and you coughed several times, trying to not spit water everywhere. Levi just smirked and turned back to his tea, ignoring your shocked expression.

It had been his turn to cook breakfast one morning. He and Hanji were in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for all the regiment when you had walked in, wearing your night shirt and not much else. Levi had turned to you and frowned slightly.

“Where are your clothes?” he asked as you leaned over and gave him a chaste kiss before sitting yourself on one of the counters, actively ignoring him. He clicked his tongue.

“Get your dirty ass down from there.” He scolded and Hanji chuckled as you rolled your eyes, pushing yourself off the counter and leaning against it instead.

“My clothes are drying, you want some help while I wait?” you offered, smiling softly. Levi returned your smile and shook his head.

“We’re alright. Nearly done. How do you like your eggs?” he asked, cracking one into a pan. You smirked.

“Fertilised is good.” Levi froze as Hanji practically fell to the floor in hysterics, the captain grimacing at you in a revulsion.

“You’re disgusting.” He spat, ignoring the two howling women on either side of him. You smiled playfully at him as you put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t touch me.” He said, but you knew he didn’t mean it, his eyes were soft even if his face was firm. You leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

“I’m going to go and get dressed.” And you started to leave, hearing Levi shout ‘Shut up, Hanji!’ as you left.

He also, could not get used to your forwardness.

One such incident, was when you had walked into his office one evening and quite literally crawled across the desk to reach him before nestling yourself on his lap, straddling him as you kissed him fiercely, hands gripping his shirt tightly as you pushed your body against him. You pulled back ever so slightly to look in his eyes that were blown wide with surprise and lust.

“Take me to bed or lose me forever.” You had rasped, barely able to contain your own want.

Levi, had not hesitated.

You smiled as you stared down at the man who was sleeping across your lap that night, gently running your fingers over his bare back and shoulders and brushing his hair out of his face. It was rare he slept so deeply. It was even rarer for you to still be awake. His eyes twitched slightly, indicating a dream and you couldn’t help but wonder if you were part of it. You shimmied down the bed, making the captain groan slightly, though his eyes did not open. As you shifted to settle next to him, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you tightly against him, pressing several kisses to your neck before he lay back down beside you.

You smiled as you thought of just how far you had come together. Things had changed so much between you since that awkward kiss you had given him in his office all those months ago. The memories you had warmed your heart.

You decided there and then, flirting with Levi was definitely your favourite pastime.

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

Much love to my friend who hounds me relentlessly 😂❤

[elderkale]

by any other name

50th masterversary @dwmasters​

tell me we’ll never get used to it - by any other name

(posting chapters here while off ao3)

There was no conclusive start to their time together. For her to have marked a beginning would have meant accepting that there would be an end, a limit, a day when their time would run out. And she didn’t.

She remembered the first time she’d seen her only because she knew it must have happened. What had she been wearing? Had it been sunny outside, or had it been overcast? Was the room hot or cold? When had their eyes met for the first time?

What had she seen in her?

This is how it goes.

There’s a monster on the loose, and everyone is hiding. There’s a monster on the loose, and the story should have a hero. There’s a monster on the loose, and it should be taken down by spears and cannons the strength of dozens.

There’s a monster on the loose, and she doesn’t care about any of that.

The Midsummerman, they’d called him. He’d liked to display his victims in works of art so meticulous it almost hurt to take them down—knives and cyanide, crowns perched on bleach-white skulls, hands and wrists interlocked in a bed of flowers. Like children, asleep in the meadow.

Midsummer for his dreams. Man because that was what they believed him to be.

Sometimes, she still cursed his name in her sleep.

*

She approaches her nightmares critically, clinically, cynically, and calculatingly, and everything else that starts with a C. What does this mean? What about that? Whose face is this? This hand? This body hanging from the rafters? Are those my demons crawling from the shadows and pinning me down, or are they someone else’s? Is it a river I’m standing in, or is it a sea?

Denial is the prescription she writes herself. She’s not a doctor for nothing.

*

She’d paid attention to her in the way a person paid attention to the stones on a trail, or the turn of the stars behind the clouds.

In another world, she didn’t think she’d even have noticed her. In another one, she didn’t think she’d have been able to tear her gaze away. Maybe in yet another one, where stakes were higher but life was simpler, they’d have been thrown together by fate and accident and wild, wild circumstances and gone up in each other’s flames, and it would have been easy.

She’d bumped into her on the first day, she recalled, going around the corner. She’d spilled tea on herself—not much, just a splash—and dropped a pen. Of all her memories of the day, she had no idea why that was the one that stood out the most. The way the mind works, eh?

She’d asked questions, she remembered. Most people liked to ask questions as if they already knew the answer to them—sos and what you’re sayings and rights. She’d asked questions the way questions were meant to be asked—wide-eyed and curious and serious at the same time, taking things in and thinking about them instead of being bitter about being wrong. She thinks that’s what struck her first.

She’d listened with her eyes and her hands and her face and her body, and, when she’d looked up, she’d meet her eyes and nod. A happy nod, a solemn nod, an impish nod, but a nod nonetheless. Yes, it said, I hear you.

And then, over a body stuffed with coals in a field of withered flowers, in the midst of lights and frenzy and protocol and shouting, she’d held a shaking woman in her arms and stroked her back and sat and listened until she gave a name.

*

What do we do now?

*

There had been an expression that almost looks like loss on her face when they’d lead Van Statten away, and, not quite sure what she was doing, but doing it anyways, she took her hand and led her to a hole-in-the-wall chippy with enough actual holes in the walls that she refused to eat in the building itself (much to the disgruntlement of the woman behind the counter, who’s shouts of It’s fucking atmosphere! followed them all the way down the street and around the bend).

(Maybe that’s when it started—the two of them wandering into a churchyard and sitting beneath stone angels, her laughing as she upset the box, and laughing harder as she plucked chips from the ground and ate them, dirt and all.)

Looking back, she found herself wondering why she never left. Or, rather, why she stayed. Companionship was the word that often surfaced. Camaraderie and a mutual inability to think of anything else to do, and maybe some curiosity thrown into the mix, too.

And then, one day, on the highest bluff in the middle of nowhere, hot and sweaty and aching to the bone, the trees below lit up like a forest of flames in the light of the setting sun and the sky above burning and swirling with stars and clouds, she took her face in her hands and pressed her lips to hers, and everything felt right.

*

Is this love, she wonders at a point, or is this obsession. And who’s to say that it isn’t both.

She doesn’t know the difference.

*

It’s enough to say that not much changes, because it’s too much to think about the little things that do. Hands that linger for fractions of seconds that burn like dying suns and the smallest of smiles from across hallways and conference rooms that shouldn’t make her heart beat like there’s two of them but do. Gazes that hold her and make the hair stand up on the back of her neck and scorch her to the core. A jacket hanging on a doorknob in her flat and an old pink mug on the kitchen counter in hers. Calls that stretch far past what could reasonably be called night, except there’s a reason now, and strands of bleached blonde hair tangled up in the sheets with brown.

And the kisses. The kisses are good, too. And everything else that follows.

She mentions it offhandedly, one day, the pipes and mildew in her flat. And then, because she wants to help, or because she doesn’t have a filter, or for no reason at all, she’s asking her to move in.

There’s a moment, when she’s staring at her, where she thinks she’s put her foot in her mouth. But then she throws her arms around her, and she can feel her smiling against her lips.

Her flat sells surprisingly well, considering the nest of cockroaches in the bathroom they didn’t tell the buyer about.

*

Jack is ecstatic. When is he ever not?

If only he could know how it ends.

*

It had been unrealistic, she supposed to have expected things to be perfect then and for forever. More fanciful, still, for her to expect her to be perfect then and for forever. Smiles tended to wilt behind closed doors and laughter turn to growls, and she had the illusion of all the time in the world to see every grin twist into a scowl.

Money was one of the few things she’d never had to worry about, which was just as well. She didn’t think she’d have been able to bring herself to care.

She’d disagreed. She’d disagreed back. And then they were shouting, and then she was storming out of the flat. The slam of the door had echoed down the hallway behind her, and kept ringing in her ears even five blocks away.

She’d spent the night curled up on a bus stop bench, hood pulled over her face and arms crossed tightly over her chest, and woken to an old woman with a shopping cart tugging at her boots.

She’d given her the boots. She didn’t know why. She still thought about them, sometimes.

She’d found her like that, twisting an old coupon the woman had given her idly in her hands, in the morning, a cup of tea in either hand and a box of custard creams tucked beneath her arm.

They’d bought a purple couch.

*

Three of us against the world, she used to say. And then it was two, and then. . .

And who knew what it was, now.

*

Communication is the key to a good relationship, she’d heard someone say once. A teacher, maybe? She doubted it was any of her friends. Maybe Jack, if he weren’t so bad at giving advice, and even worse at following it.

Communion is subjective. She talks, of course she talks. It’s the one thing she’s never learned not to do. She talks and she talks and she talks, but she never says, and she doesn’t think she hasn’t noticed.

She knew her; she barely knew her. She told her everything, but she still knew nothing. They’d speak without ever exchanging a word, and she would squeeze her wrist lightly when she stood to refill their mugs. She’d answer questions until she didn’t, and she’d ask until she stopped. Ebbing and flowing, the conversations went, and that’s how they left it.

It was beyond words, in a way, and so much lesser in another. Honest. Arduous. Cryptic and impossible and, depending on how you looked at it, completely pointless. She wishes everything were so easy.

She thinks that she knew—about her, what she was and what she wasn’t—or suspected, at the very least. She’d never said anything, not with words, but she’d say it in other ways—the way she’d roll over when she would crawl back into bed in the dead of night, and silently wrap an arm around her waist; the way she’d make no comment about the plain, dark clothes that would appear and vanish in their closet without explanation; the way she’d turn the news off when she switched it on in the morning and locked their fingers together as they drank tea over the papers; the way she never said a word.

See? Communication.

*

She wished—

Oh, god, she wished.

*

There’s a house on the junction of Satellite Street and Fifth Avenue. Boards that hadn’t been there when the house had been sold are nailed across the windows on the first floor. The windows on the second floor are shuttered. Daffodils grow in the front yard, and the roof is covered in dead leaves and fallen branches.

He was tired. Tired and scared, and ready to give up. She’d time it perfectly. He wouldn’t have fought.

Except she was wrong.

Nine shots. Six hits. She still couldn't stand fireworks.

Trembling on a porch, gasping for air, spreading pools of red, and pain that was so much more than just physical. Hands that couldn’t move, a heart that couldn’t beat, and eyes that could do nothing but watch as two more bullets sunk into her heart.

*

Rose.

[silwenworld]

Until The Last Petal Falls (Part 2 in the War Roses Series)

Summary: He could see the flowers floating before his eyes. A Bouquet. A single flower. Every time in different configuration but one thing was constant - the petals were falling away. Each time there were fewer and fewer petals attached to the stalk. And each time that happened, he could feel himself slipping further and further away.

Or: Captain Gold has a son to find and woman to come back to, and nothing short of dying will keep him from doing just that.

A continuation of the Rumbelle Showdown 2020 fic “The Dried Rose”

Category: M CHAPTER 8 [AO3] [First Chapter]

Gold had tried to live up to the promise he had given Belle. It wasn't an easy task, but he set his mind to fulfil it as best as possible. It was hard to wrap his mind around the fact that their talk on the balcony had happened only recently and not a lifetime ago. Gold had more or less accepted the way he looked now and that his life would never go back to the way it had been before. Of course, there were bad days that he grew to despise - the nightmares were still the worst, and he had found himself in a poorer mood for the following day every single time, almost ready to snap anybody's head off for getting too close to him. But he was getting used to it, even if he wished for it to just go away. The thing that was lightening his days, though, was the fact that Belle looked better these days too, and it made him happy that she could enjoy her free time with not only him but also her friends. And seeing Belle more lively made him want more too.

It was almost back to normal.

Almost.

*

The streets now were almost deserted. Many people rushed past him without so much as a glance, which suited him just fine. Some might have shot him some weird glances, but he tried to pay them no mind - he would have stared too if some bloke was simply standing there doing nothing. Gold looked at the pawnshop's door for the better part of ten minutes, glaring at the sign above. It took him long enough to get his head around the idea of coming here in the first place, but it seemed that getting into the shop was the bigger problem. He knew it wouldn't hurt to just look around, he didn't necessarily need to buy anything after all, but something was holding him back. An invisible force that had him rotten to the spot, something that had never been present in his life before he had been shot - self-consciousness mixed with ever-present uneasiness.

Mr A. Prentice Pawnbroker & Antics Dealer.

The sign mocked him as he scowled at it. Well, for a start, Gold had nothing to deal with - no money, no precious heirlooms as the last remotely valuable thing he had to give away to be able to come back to the country. His hand unwillingly raised to look for the locket at his neck that was no longer there. He swallowed hard as it dropped to his side, curling into a fist. He didn't even have the photograph of his only child, so what was the point in going in?

Gold glanced up at the sign again.

To hell with it.

He took a step forward.

*

A soft jingle of the bell started him, and he jumped, gripping his cane tighter while looking around. There was no one in sight; the noise of ticking clocks was the sole witness of his misstep, and so Gold straightened his jacket and walked further inside.

The number of things gathered in the room was overwhelming. From old paintings, some partly covered and some clearly visible, to bigger and smaller trinkets littering almost every free surface. Clocks, chests, music boxes, instruments, gramophones and many more, all dusty and clearly not touched for a very long time. Gold looked around the cluttered front room, and somehow he got an impression that not many people visited the shop.

Off to his right, he spotted a glass cabinet in which lay an open wooden casket. His eyes winded when noticing a display of various rings, one more decorated than the previous one. They were all beautiful but very clearly above anything he would be able to afford. He was so lost in his head that he didn't hear that he was no longer alone.

"A fine eye you have," an old raspy voice made him stiffen, and he whipped his head to the side, coming face to face with a man dressed in a fine, black suit and redshirt. He was older than Gold, probably somewhere in his seventies. His white, groomed beard reached his chest, only emphasizing his age, but he surely knew how to move silently.

"I apologize for barging in - "

"Well, the sign on the door does say 'open', so I wouldn't call it bargaining in," the man cut in with a smile and exchanged his hand. "Alfred Prentice, I'm the owner of this cluttered establishment."

"Roy Gold," the captain accepted the handshake, a little surprised by the strength of the man's grip.

"Oh, I know who you are, but it's nice to finally meet the famous captain Gold," the barely contained flinch from Roy's side didn't go unnoticed. "The town talks," he added, letting go of Gold's hand with a slight twitch of his lips.

"Still?"

"Oh, a lot less than before, let me assure you. Now," Prentice clapped his hands and passed by Gold to sweep the dusty boxes away from the glass cabinet. "I see you have found the rings. I'm terribly sorry for the mess, by the way."

"You don't get many costumers, do you, Mr Prentice?" Gold asked as his eyes took in a mess around the shop.

"Not really." He didn't seem bothered by that. "Those who need my services usually find me anyway. So, Mr Gold which of them you think is the cheapest?" Roy was so taken aback by the fact he wasn't addressed by his former rank that it took him a second to notice that the rings were now fully displayed before him.

It was weird, he thought as he bent over the box - being seen as a civilian - A feeling he wasn't eternally opposed to, but instead of dwelling over it, he took a step forward to have a better view.

There were ten rings in total, each having some distinctive features - be they the stones, shape or engravings. Gold looked closely, fascinated. They were in perfect condition, even if not new. Polished and restored to their former glory, captivating and beautiful. It seemed that Prentice was putting a lot more effort into conservation than in tidiness of his shop, or maybe it was deliberate.

"That one," he gestured to the ring in the middle, and Prentice raised his eyebrow, a slight smirk slowly lifting the corner of his mouth.

"Oh? How so?"

"It's brass. The others are golden."

"Very good," the man was fully smiling now with a glint in his eyes, and Roy had a feeling he was being tested. For what he couldn't tell. "And which is the most valuable then?"

He held the older man's gaze for a second, trying to read him, but finding it hard to do, he looked down on the rings again, his eyes darting back and forth between the two on the far right. They were similar in appearance - both with a golden band, with decorative ornaments resembling petals. Delicate, definitely not conspicuous with blue sapphire as the sole stone drawing attention away from the engravings.

"May I?" Gold asked.

"Of course."

Their weight was almost identical. Almost.

"This one." Gold put both of them back and pointed to the one which had been the farthest to the right. Prentice grinned broadly.

"Impressive. I knew you had a good eye."

"I used to pickpocket rich people as a lad," he said offhandedly, shrugging his shoulders. Not many knew that, but it didn't matter. It wasn't as if he was still doing it. "This one is older than the other one, more used and heavier. That one is a good fake, I must admit."

"My own making, so thank you very much."

Prentice closed the lid, amusement clearly visible on his face with bearly hidden laughter in his voice. He didn't know why, but Gold found it hard to draw away his eyes from the sapphire ring even when it disappeared from his line of sight.

"What pushed you into the military then?" the other man asked, bringing Gold out of his thoughts. He looked up to Prentice, who was now leaning casually on the cabinet with hands in his pockets and smirked at the memory.

"I robbed the wrong person," he answered. "I wanted a golden watch, and it turned out I got a commission from a general instead. He said it was either this or calling the police. I'm still not sure if it was a good deal."

Prentice laughed, but there was nothing mocking in his voice - he seemed generally amused by the dry tone the captain had delivered the confession. Roy didn't know how, but somehow, he got a feeling that he passed the test. He was about to ask what the whole exchange was about when the older man tilted his head to the side as if thinking about something.

"Tell you what, Mr Gold," he rested his hands on the cabinet, leaning towards him. "You can have that ring you just picked."

"I don't - "

"As payment, you'll come work here for me," he added, not letting Gold finish his protests and only smiled at the captain's dumbfounded face.

"You - What?"

Prentice shrugged his shoulders.

"I hardly think that your military pension - nor your salary at Marco's for that matter - could make you afford even that brass one as of now, but I'm old, you see."

"I'm not sure I understand, sir," he answered, frowning.

"You don't have to answer right away, of course.," Prentice continued waving his protests aside with a move of his hand. "I understand you need to think about it, but I really believe you could be just the person I was looking for to help around here."

"You want me to work here? As who?" Was the man mad after all?

"But my assistant, of course," Prentice rounded the cabinet and winked. "You may find me a better employer than your previous ones, and it's a lot quieter in here than in the workshop. Think about it, Mr Gold."

With that, he just left Roy standing in the middle of the front shop, not waiting for his reply and disappearing to the back room through the drape in the doorway.

What the hell had just happened?

*

Ruby glanced at the envelope lying on the counter for the fifth time in the past five minutes. It came in today's post, and at first, she had been able to ignore it, but the longer it stayed where it now was, the harder ignoring it had become.

It was crumpled and stained at the corners, probably because of the neglectful messenger. Yet it wasn't the state of the envelope that had her concerned the most, but who had sent it and to whom.

She stared at it again, squinting her eyes as if the paper could jump and bite her when uneven steps that she now associated with captain Gold reached her ears. She glanced up, her heart beating faster with nervousness as she spotted him. He looked better lately as he put on more weight and walked with more confidence, but right now, his gaze was fixed more on the ground than anywhere else, and his brow furrowed in thought. He past by her without a glance, too lost in his own head.

"Captain?"

Gold turned around from where he stopped, only now realizing he wasn't alone. Even though his expression cleared, Ruby could see in his eyes that whatever had him occupied still lingered. It was intriguing how good she had become in reading him since he had returned.

"Yes, Miss Lucas?"

"There was a messenger for you, sir. He dropped in a letter."

The frown returned as he took the envelope from her, and a shadow passed over his face, darkening his expression. It looked to her like he debated with himself whenever to open it with her standing next to him or not, then tucking in into his coat pocket after making the decision.

"Thank you."

Gold turned on his heal, swiftly making his way to the stairs, not giving her much room to protest, so he was already on the third step when she had called after him with a question she was sure as hell not have asked a year ago.

"Sir? Um, You OK?"

He seemed confused at first, as if his mind was somewhere else eternally, looking at her with a dumbfounded expression. Ruby didn't know, but it took him a while to fully comprehend the meaning behind her words, but then his lips twitched.

"At the moment, yes." She wondered if she should press the point or not, but he was already at the top of the stairs. "Miss Lucas?" She glanced up, startled as he leant over the balustrade. "Thank you."

Only when he descended the stairs with a lost expression, sporting what looked like his old military jacket, the same one that Belle had carried around with her constantly when thinking him dead, she knew he wasn't as fine as he claimed to be.

Gold had thrown something over his shoulder about needed to think and clear his head and that if Belle asked, she would know where to find him.

Ruby just hoped he wouldn't do anything stupid.

That one time dragging his drunk self had been enough for her.

*

She would have run, at least before. Now, she walked. Maybe at a quicker than usual pace, but still - walked.

There were times when she was still afraid to have him out of her sight - petrified that all those months had been a dream, but she hardly thought that her mind could come up with how fragile he had seemed to become. But she had noticed the recent changes too - his eyes were no longer empty as they had been for those first couple of months, and he walked with more confidence in his steps, but she still worried. Maybe it was due to the vacant expression that sometimes lingered on his face or the fact that it still looked to her like he didn't get enough sleep - she didn't really know, but she tried to honour her promise to him and not over-worry herself. They managed to come to some sort of an equilibrium that none of them wanted to shatter.

As she got to the edge of town and near the woods, carefully avoiding puddles of freshly melted snow, she couldn't help but marvel at this new version of Roy. She had a feeling that he was somewhere in between now - no longer the person that had left, but also not the one who had returned. He was still looking for himself, and even though Belle sometimes missed the past, she knew it would not return, and she loved this new, slowly emerging version of Roy just as much. The man just had to be reminded of that fact more often than not.

The ground was muddy where the trail had started, and it was easy to spot his footprints going up and then disappearing beyond the bushes. It looked like he had lost his footing more than once but hadn't fallen over - a good sign, considering the uneven terrain. Belle followed the tracks, pushing away the branches in her way. It had been so long since anybody had come here that moving past the overgrown vegetation was a lot harder than before.

She spotted him sitting on the tree trunk that had probably fallen during the recent storm. Roy had his gaze focused on the river as his hands played with the golden handle of the cane. On closer inspection, he didn't look lost, at least not in the same way as he had that day when he had gotten himself drunk.

"It didn't change much," he said, not turning around. "Took me long enough to get here, though."

"Well, the snow had just started to melt. Even I had trouble."

Belle made her way towards him and sat down on the log, her shoulder touching his. She tried not to look at the bloody patch on his uniform jacket. No matter how much she had tried, she couldn't get rid of the blood.

Instead, she looked at the river, smiling as his fingers entwined with hers. It was their spot and the first time they had been here together since the day before his departure so long ago.

He was right - it didn't change much, only they did.

Belle waited patiently, knowing well by now that it would be better to let him start without being pushed. She felt him shift, letting go of her hand, and soon, a crumbled letter was pressed into her hand.

She scanned the paper, frowning a little as she made it to the point that had probably had him agitated.

"They made you a major?" She asked, turning towards him and saw him grimace, displeased.

"Aye. In gratitude for loyal service. It sounds almost like a joke," Roy's tone turned bitter, and she risked a glance in his direction. He was still looking ahead, his jaw set, and a crease on his forehead that he always got when either thinking too hard or displeased. It took him a moment to slowly breathe out and relax his shoulders. "Well, at least they finally confirmed it in writing that I'm out of the army even if I can't get myself out of it."

She frowned.

"What do you mean?"

He tapped the handle of the cane with his index finger in thought.

"Everyone calls me 'Captain', and I've never seen myself as anybody else... But then today that man in the pawnshop kept calling me 'Mister' -"

"What were you doing in the pawnshop?" She couldn't help but cut in with curiosity. Her question made his eyes widen briefly, which only made her more suspicious.

"I was offered a job, actually."

"In Mr Prentice's pawnshop?" He nodded, making her beam. "That's wonderful! Will you take it?"

"It seems...beneficial," he added, fidgeting with his cane - a new quirk of his that she noticed him doing more and more lately when thinking or nervous. "It's just - I've been a soldier almost my whole life... I can't - " He trailed off, running his hand threw his hair in frustration. "I won't be able to forget, will I?"

Roy searched her face for answers she couldn't give with helpful eyes. As much as she wished she could give them to him, she was unable to as it was something he would have to come to terms with on his own - even if it pained her so see him doing so.

"Do you still dream about that german boy?" she asked instead. "The one you told me you had to run through during your first fight?"

He swallowed hard and nodded.

"Do you feel the same when thinking about him as then or different?"

Gold didn't answer for a while, and when fidgeting became not enough to keep him distracted, he stood up and limped closer to the bank, resting the tip of the cane against the protruding root. He concentrated on the sound of the water, calming his mind. He looked down and tried not to focus on the eyes of the blond boy that had immediately appeared before his eyes. He risked a glance towards the apparition, noticing not for the first time that the boy's eyes were the image of his own gaze at the time - petrified and sick.

"I think... I think that whoever told us that the enemy was different from us had to be the biggest liar," he admitted slowly, pocking the root with a frown. "We were the same; I was just quicker with my bayonet."

He had been sick after killing that boy. They both had been deceived.

"Roy..." Belle licked her lips, and he looked over his shoulder at her. "I won't lie to you that you'll forget, but maybe with time, you'll be able to change your thinking as you did with that boy?"

"Hmm."

He turned away at poked at the root again. Belle sighed and hopped off the log, and with a couple of swift strides, she made her way next to him, then sat on the root instead, looking up at Gold. He avoided her gaze at first but then shook his head, sighing.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking at her apologetically as he took her hand in his. "You don't deserve any of this." She tilted her head to the side, raising her right eyebrow. "And I'm repeating myself, yet again," he added chastened.

Belle smiled softly, squeezing his hand. "When I thought you gone... I couldn't cope with it," she admitted, looking down. "Sometimes, panic still grips me at the mare reminder of how it felt because I don't want ever to feel that way again."

"You won't. I'm not going anywhere."

She shook her head. His voice sounded firm and convincing, but she knew he couldn't be entirely sure about that. It was scary how much one could depend on another person.

"What I mean is, that feeling... it won't leave me, and I'll have to accept to live with it."

Gold smiled softly, love shining from his eyes. He bent down, closing the distance between them, chasing away the shadows of worry as he locked his lips with Belle's. Her eyes fluttered shut as she focused eternally on the warmth spreading through her body and the touch of his hand on her cheek. The sounds faded into the background, and even though the kiss was soft and undemanding, it spoke of reassurance and conviction.

Gold loved kissing Belle. From the first time it had happened to now, he knew he would never get enough of it. And now, when he no longer had to hide his affection from the world, he wanted more.

To bestow her with not only kisses but his whole life.

To never leave her side ever again.

He was hers. And she knew it. And that knowledge alone made him one of the happiest people on Earth.

Slowly he broke the kiss, but instead of drawing away, he rested his forehead against hers.

"I would be lost without you - you know that?" He murmured, rubbing his nose against hers, making her smile.

"I think it's mutual."

She could see the desire in his eyes, lurking beneath all the confusing feelings, but they both knew it was neither the time nor place for anything more than stolen kisses. And so he pecked her on the forehead and straightened up, looking around.

She watched him curiously when he limped to one of the trees, and with some difficulty, he put more of his weight on the left leg, balancing on it to remove the jacket, and then hung it on the branch.

"I can't see myself as a pawnbroker," he said, and Belle could help but chuckle.

"If it means having you in a tailored suit, then I can definitely see it."

"I can't afford a tailored suit," he wiggled his finger at her, but instead of hurt, there were playful sparkles in his eyes that she missed so much. She stood up from the root.

"But when you will, I'm sure you'll look mighty fine in it." Belle tone was husky as she approached him. Gold could only watch, his Adam's apple bubbling as he swallowed when her hands rested on his shoulders. She climbed on her toes, pressing against him, making him back against the tree as she kissed him. He could feel the bark scraping his back through his shirt, but he couldn't care less.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, bringing her closer. It was cold, but neither could feel it, not when so close to one another. She parted her lips for him, and he swept his tongue against her palate, making her shudder and scrap her fingernails against his scalp.

As he proceeded to kiss her behind her jaw, in his desire to hold Belle closer, he forgot himself. He let go of the cane, not even realizing that it had fallen to the ground before it was too late. Gold instantly wobbled, his leg folding on itself like a pocket knife. He would have fallen if not for his hand darting sideways and wrapping around the tree branch.

"Damn it," he hissed, trying to regain the balance, both frustrated and embarrassed not only by what had happened but also because he had to support himself on Belle's shoulder as well.

"It's OK," she handed him the cane, her eyes never leaving his. "Hey, look at me," she turned his face towards her and smiled. "It's actually a good thing."

He grimaced. "I don't see anything good in the fact that my leg is fucking useless."

"Well, making out against a tree trunk among the melted snow wasn't such a good idea."

There was laughter in her voice, but not at him - never at him, and he sighed. Belle might have been correct, but it didn't change the fact that at that moment, he would want nothing more than bash his own limb with that golden handle of the cane.

"When I make an honest woman out of you, I promise it won't happen again."

He felt like a lair just by saying those things, but Belle didn't look offended, more amused than anything.

"If I remember correctly," she stated, helping him find his footing and leading him away from the tree, "you made me a very dishonest woman right in this spot."

He chuckled, following her. Some of the clouds chased away.

"Minx."

"You bring the worst in me."

He grinned. Wrapping his arm around Belle's waist and pushing the pain in his ankle aside, he matched her tempo, walking in step with her.

The jacket stayed where he had left it - hanging on the branch.

The soldier was gone.

*

The last rays of the sun shone through the cracks in the pulled blinds, basking the room in a warm, red light. He flipped the sign to close at least an hour ago but still couldn't bring himself to leave the shop just yet. It wasn't as if anybody was waiting for him at home, and he didn't have anything better to do.

Lighting a gaslamp on the workbench, he sat on the stool and put the watchmaker's loup in his eye. The pocket watch he was currently working on was a magnificent object. The lid decorated with a crane taking flight among the swamp was so detailed that it was easy to spot single feathers in the animal's wings. A family heirloom, as his client had claimed, even if he himself suspected it stolen. Not working, but not for long.

One of his favourite activities was repairing watches—this, and restoring paintings. But his eyes weren't the same anymore, and he found out it took him longer to complete his tasks than before.

He took apart the mechanisms, lying the cogs next to each other in a neatly formed raw, not even an inch out of the line. He had always been thorough and a good judge in the value of things. This watch once restored and repaired, would be twice as valuable as it now was. Prentice knew this, and so did the owner, patiently waiting for the repair. He would then proceed to sell it, and Prentice would get one-third of the deal. Not bad, not terrible.

He just wished his hands wouldn't shake so much.

Prentice chuckled and shook his head. It was good that they hadn't done so in his youth. If they did, his skill would have been wasted, and he wouldn't be where he was now. He sighed as he glanced around the backroom before picking up the smallest screwdriver.

Once upon a time, there were three of them - three Musketeers as Martha used to call them. Wilfred Lucas had ended with the Diner and a motel, Prentice with the pawnshop and Leroy with a drinking problem. They did with their money what they thought was the best - once part of the Intelligence, then ordinary citizens. But now, one was dead, the second alive, and the third on an excellent way to join the first if the second wouldn't beat him to it - one never knew.

Storybrooke might have been a small town, but it surely did attract many individuals. No one knew what the three of them had been doing during the First War, only that they were part of the military. Of course, there were talks, just the same as with that whole mess with Captain Gold.

Prentice chuckled again as he replaced the broken cog with the new one. If Gold only knew about the past, he would be a lot less stiff about the whole affair. Being in love with a local was hardly a big deal, at least to Prentice. To be honest, he found it quite amusing. It almost reminded him how Wilfred and Martha used to be when young.

The bell above the front door jingled, and he smirked. The clever lad had noticed that the door wasn't locked despite the flipped sign.

"In the back!" he shouted, not tearing his gaze away from the watch in his hands. His back was to the doors, but it didn't stop him from knowing who had come to his shop. He always knew who his clients were. "You can come in, Mr Gold. I'm just finishing."

"How did you..?" He didn't need to look at the man to see the surprise on his face that was so evident in his voice.

"Maybe I'm a clairvoyant taught by a magician," he began, putting the watch down an turning around on the stool with a smirk, "Or maybe I saw you in the mirror that hangs above that closet."

Gold gaped at him, then glanced at the mirror and chuckled.

"Fair point," he admitted.

"What can I do for you, Mr Gold?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

The ex-soldier looked like he didn't want to stare too much at the various things in the room but couldn't help himself much. Prentice let him stare. He already knew what the other man wanted.

"About that job offer," Gold turned his gaze away from the antique Ming dynasty vase on the top shelf, "I have one condition."

"I'm all ears."

Gold looked like he searched for the right words, his hands clasping and unclasping in the handle of his cane. Wasn't it Wilfred's? Prentice tilted his head to see it more clearly. It definitely was; he had found it for the man himself. Alfred must have admitted that it suited the ex-soldier very much so. Blinking, he went down to the matters at hand.

"It came to my attention," Gold started, straightening up, "that years ago, a ring might have come into your possession, Mr Prentice."

Oh, that was too good. It was really hard not to openly grin.

"I see. I presume that by the seller, you mean Maurice Fench?"

Gold nodded, not surprised that Prentice already knew what he was talking about.

"You're in luck then, Mr Gold," Alfred jumped from the stool and went to the nearest drawer. It was good that he had already prepared himself for this conversation. Honestly, sometimes people were too predictable. He tossed the ring to Gold, impressed that the man had caught it with one hand. "It just happens that the ring I have promised you is one and the same as the one pawned to me by Mr French."

Gold stared at the ring, his mouth slightly agape. Then his eyes narrowed.

"Did you plan it?"

Prentice shrugged his shoulders with an innocent look.

"What can I say? I'm good at reading people. And you were right - it was the most valuable among those other rings. An old family heirloom," he added as he made his way towards Gold. "The times were hard for the Frenches after Colette's death, and I might have given a little bit more for it than required."

"So, how much is it worth now?"

"I would say, two months of your work here," he smiled. "And then you may decide if you want to stay here or not."

Gold offered the ring back, even if reluctantly, then exchanged his hand.

"I accept your terms, Mr Prentise."

"Splendid!" Prentice shook it vigorously then clapped Gold on the shoulder, making the other man jump slightly. "Consider yourself haired, Mr Gold."

Without another word, he rounded the younger man and grabbed his coat from the rack.

"The keys are in the smaller drawer right there. You can play around with the watch if you like, oh and do close up when you finish, would you? Have a nice day, Gold!"

Roy didn't manage to get a word in, and before he knew it, he was left alone in the shop. He could swear he could hear Prentice's laugh from the outside down the street.

He looked around, still not sure what exactly had happened. Slowly he approached the table with a dismantled pocketwatch and tilted his head.

Well, why not?

He sat down on the stool and began to study the cogs.

[the-juniors]

For the au headcannons: coffee shop/café - I am here for whatever drama caffeine-distributing establishments can bring

i actually have a coffee shop au in the drafts right now (if anyone’s interested, lmk👀👀) so let’s make this one nice and just completely different

jingyi and zizhen work at a cute little coffee shop and they are always put on shifts together bc they work so well with each other

sizhui and jin ling are their favorite regulars

and goddamn the four are crushing hard for each other

when they first met, sizhui walked into the shop, saw the cute baristas, went oh no then when he saw the only open seat was at jl’s table, almost spontaneously combusted

can u tell i’m a big supporter of internal mess sizhui

(lwj’s influence, truly)

jin ling is there almost everyday bc he’s a student at the nearby university (the other three already graduated) and his orders sometimes worry ljy nd ozz

“i’ll have a large coffee with seven shots of espresso”

“jesus, just do cocaine”

basically this post

he’s a business major (what else) nd he was the liner in high school so he’s not used to ppl just being nice to him, and suddenly??? these three very attractive ppl??? are nice??? to him???

like sizhui, during their first meeting, noticed his homework nd he had taken that class nd now helps him study?? zizhen always writes a cute message on his cup?? jingyi actually cares abt what he has to say???

zizhen is weak for these boys

jingyi’s smiles always just make him go weak in the knees, nd there was this one time where he started singing along to the music playing when the shop was empty nd he almost felt his soul ascend, it was a religious experience he swears

jin ling is so dedicated and passionate, unafraid to call an asshole out nd once he reamed a karen who was being racist nd zizhen has never felt more ✨comfy✨

and god, sizhui is the literal personification of the dawn, all that is warm and good, he heard his unrestrained laughter once and he had to take a five minute break bc he was just feeling so much—

(sizhui was laughing at jingyi showing him the frog that he had caught in a cup and labeled it “one cup water, no water +one froggy baby”)

now, jingyi is that last the realize he’s crushing but only bc he’s used to deeply feeling platonic affection so he didn’t realize it was romantic until one day

one day when he offhandedly mentioned to jl that he was working in his birthday nd zizhen’s head snapped up to him, and the two looked to each other but didn’t comment

zizhen went on his lunch break nd jl left, but they came back together, sizhui in tow (somehow, don’t worry abt it) and bc the shop was empty, when they gave him a potted miniature rose plant, he practically vaulted over the counter to hug them

jingyi will deny vehemently that he teared up when jl handed him the plant blushing

then when he got home, he looked at the rosebuds, thought of the three, and oh. OH.

they’re all pining messes :))

communication is not their best friend :))

there’s a lot of confusion and assumptions bc of course :))

it wasn’t until when it’s finals season for jl and, after their shift, jingyi nd zizhen stay with jl nd sizhui to help jl study

and jl, in a haze from pulling a four-night all nighter, pretty much intoxicated on coffee and vibrating with stress from finals, blurts everything accidentally when he’s nonsensically rambling abt one of his classes

sizhui, after he’s done reeling nd noticing that the other two are frozen, has to basically force jl’s mind to cooperate with him when he asks him to backtrack just a bit—

it takes a minute, but then he repeats what he said nd jl freezes

sizhui tells him that they don’t have to talk abt it now, but they will after his finals are over and he’s actually had a night’s worth of sleep

and they do :))

and they’re cute and happy :))

but they never go in coffee dates bc jl will insist that no coffee is as good as zizhen’s

the other two readily agree nd zizhen is vv flustered

sorry for this taking a bit to be answered, school’s starting nd i am Stressing. so i will be a bit busier in the coming months but i am still answering asks and i’ll do them as fast as my creativity allows me, so don’t hesitate to send in one :)

[yaya-does-things]

Leon x fem!reader: A Recollection

Prompt: “I’m sorry.... But I don’t remember you”

Word count: 5812

Alrighty. This is finally done. I took forever to finish it cuz um I’m slow and also I didn’t know how I would properly finish it. But now I have. So yeah. Hope ya’ll enjoy :)

~~~~~~

She had arrived in Wydon on a particularly cloudy day. A fresh coat of rain layered over the streets as people scurried through the town. Pokemon could be seen casually following in their owner’s wake. With the bustling about, and the splatter of water, (name) stood outside of the train station, looking around in wonder. She had never been in Wyndon before, seeing as it was a city she never visited when she was younger. She noted the stadium, the lovely way it looked like a rose. Then, she saw the hotel, all the way across the town, the clock tower seen in all of its glory. She smiled, and walked down the entrance. There, she saw a man and woman standing, waiting. They looked to her, the man smiling as he stopped twisting the longer piece of his hair. He walked towards her, extending his hand.

“Ah! You must be (name), am I right? I’m Rose, the League Chairman of Galar,” he said. (Name) took his hand, shaking it with a smile.

“Nice to meet you sir.”

“I hope your trip was alright?” he asked, referring to the large suitcase in her hands.

“Oh! Yes. It was very nice. Galar is so beautiful!”

“I’m glad you think so. Oleana, do you mind grabbing her luggage?” 

The woman beside him nodded, her face emotionless as she stepped toward (name).

“Oh, haha, no, it’s alright sir. I can --”

“But, I insist! Plus, Oleana is more than happy with carrying your stuff, isn’t that right?” Rose says, waving his hand offhandedly as he starts to walk. (Name) looks to Oleana, who nods, and quickly takes the luggage from her hands. A look of confusion is plastered on (name)’s face, but she shrugs off the peculiar relationship between the two, and walks after Rose, falling in step with him as they head to the hotel.

“So, have you ever visited Galar before?” he asks in an attempt at small talk. They pass a few buildings, which home the many people that live in Wyndon.

“Well, yes of course. I actually used to live here,” she replies, looking around as she speaks.

“Really? Well isn’t that exciting. You must be happy to be back,” he says. 

“Oh yes. I haven’t been here in years. I’ve missed it so much,” she sighs, looking to him. His face is neutral, a look of disinterest as opposed to the enthusiastic way he sounded. She’s silent for a bit, taking in the scenery as she ignores the discomfort of the Chairman’s company. His demeanor was welcoming, but gave off the feeling that this was just a chore. Something he didn’t need to do. “I thought the Champion would be here too.”

He doesn’t reply immediately, seeming as if other things are on his mind. A nudge from Oleana can be seen and he snaps into a jovial mood. 

“OH! Yes, he was, but alas he had family business to attend to.”

“Ah, I see…” she nods in understanding. A strong silence is placed in the air as they finish their walk to the hotel, Rose stopping at the entrance to turn to (name), his seemingly fake enthusiasm emerging again.

“Well! Here we are! The Rose of the Rondelands Hotel! It’s quite the elegant one, if I do say so myself,” he says, with a grand gesture to the large hotel in front of them. Just saying the name brings about a glow to him that hadn’t been expressed at all during their short time together. 

“It is rather lovely,” (name) agrees, hoping her approval will spark something other than discontent with the Chairman.

“Yes, it is,” he seemingly sighs. Then, he perks up and his usual business-like expression re-emerges onto his features. “Well, this seems to be the end of our tour!”

It wasn’t much of a tour.

“I guess I’ll leave you here. You can get settled in just fine, am I correct?” he asks with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“Oh… um… yes. I’m sure I can handle myself,” she replies with an uneasy nod. She glances at the large building again, feeling a bit discontent with his “helpfulness”. 

“Wonderful! Then, I’ll have Oleana return your luggage,” he says, nodding to the woman who (name) completely forgot about due to her silence. She steps forward, handing over the suitcase’s handle, the slightest tinge of relief and annoyance etched onto her stoic features. She steps back beside Rose, who beams at (name).

“Well, I guess this is where I take my leave, my dear,” he says, with a bow of his head. He turns to leave but soon stops in his wake to utter one final remark. “Oh! And Leon will definitely be here to accompany your trip around Galar soon enough. In fact, I messaged him just as you arrived, telling him not to keep you waiting for too long.”

“Oh, haha, you didn’t have to tell him that,” (Name) says, feeling bad for the Champion who has to deal with such a seemingly demanding Chairman. “I mean, he can take as much time as he needs!”

Rose chuckles in response. 

“Of course. Well, now this is the final time I will bid thee farewell. Good evening (name)!”  

And with a final wave of his hand, the Chairman walks away, seemingly heading to what Galar uses as a “flying taxi” system. 

“Right… Yes…” (name) mutters to no one in particular. She looks around, noting that no one is around, and shakes her head, as she heads up the stairs into the elegant foyer of the hotel. 

~~~

By the next two days, (name) had had it with Wyndon and the people of Galar. How could she be stuck in a hotel since her arrival? Why hadn’t the Champion been the one to whisk her away instead of that iffy Chairman? Her brain was jumbled with questions, annoyance and frustration entering her system as she paced inside her room. 

The hotel was extremely lavish, including everything a five star hotel should. Even her room was far too much, her own suite accompanied an entirely different room for a kitchen, and a bathroom that had its own spa-like bathtub. A shelf above lined with different soaps and scents to richly bathe in was also included, which wasn’t something she would much complain about, but found much too extravagant. Even the bedroom was over the top, the bed itself having a curtained canopy bed frame, with so many pillows that one could drown in. Now, she herself thought the suite was amazing, but as she was only one person, with rather small pokemon to accompany her, she found she missed the quaint hotels she usually stayed in when she traveled across the Regions. And her annoyance with Galar’s lushness didn’t help due to the fact she had yet to actually see any of it because of the Champion’s utter slowness to get to her. Perhaps she was being selfish, but he knew of her whereabouts and didn’t seem to put her as priority.   

And so, with a swift plop onto the nearest chair, she pulled out her Rotom phone, just about to dial the Chairman to give him a piece of her mind, when a sudden knock was heard from the door. She tilted her head as she stared at it, wondering if it would sound again, when yet another, much louder rap was heard on the wood. She stood, adjusted her outfit as needed, and headed to open it. With a click of the lock and a twist of the knob, the door opened, revealing a man she had never imagined she would have ever seen again.

“Lee?” she said, an astounded look on her face as she gawked at him. He looked rather different, with his hair much longer, and the mature stature of his face and form, but she could tell, this was the Leon she had known so long ago.

“Um… Hello? Are you (name)?” he asked, a confused look on his face as he responded to the unauthorized use of his nickname.

“Oh! Haha, yes! That’s me! (Name)!” she laughed nervously. Why was she all of a sudden so apprehensive to speak to him? Was his reaction not what she expected? She remembered him, but was it not a reciprocated remembrance?

“Uh… So, I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting here for so long. I’m sure Rose told you I had family business to attend to, but I really wanted to meet you when you got here! And um… mind if I come in?” he asks.

“Yes! Um, of course! How silly of me not to offer…” she mentally slapped herself as she opened the door wider. He entered with a grateful smile, walking over to the quaint living room and taking a seat on the sofa. She followed tenaciously, not understanding the confusion she was feeling.

“So, have you gone out to explore Wydon?” he asks in an attempt at small talk.

“Yes! I did actually. The-uh-the stadium is lovely.”

“Yeah! It really is!” he laughs. 

A silence emerges as they both grasp for something to say. 

“Want anything to drink?” she asks in a final attempt to keep the conversation from being dead.

“Yeah, uh, water would be nice?”

“Is that a question?” she quips, in an attempt at humor.

The move was not very effective.

“No! I mean if it’s too much trouble, I don’t want you to go out of your--”

“I was joking! It’s no problem at all…”

And to think things couldn’t get more awkward.

“Why did you call me ‘Lee’ when you opened the door?”

And yet they can. 

She froze from her spot at the fridge, her arm in midair as she was about to grab a water bottle. She quickly wracked her brain for an answer, but didn’t really know how to word it correctly, herself standing as she responded.

“O-oh, well I mean, I know you I guess.”

That didn’t come out the way she wanted.

“You know me?”

She could sense the raising of an eyebrow from his tone.

“Well, I don’t know-you-know-you per se… but I did…”

She turns to walk back to him, her suspicions about the raised eyebrow looking correct.

“You did?”

This conversation was getting worse by the second.

“You know what? Let’s just forget I even said---”

“No continue, you have me intrigued.”

She sighs.

“Well, I mean…” --Just ask it (name), there’s no going back now-- “Don’t you remember me?”

“Well, wouldn’t you think I would when I first saw you?”

“So… then you don’t…”

“I’m sorry… but I really don’t remember you.”

She sighs again in disappointment.

“Yeah… I figured you wouldn’t. It would be a long shot if you would have remembered me, seeing as we were so young when we met…”

A new look of curiosity enters his face.

“Young?”

“Yeah. We were just nine or ten I think. You and I would always hang out… don’t you remember that? And we would battle all the time…” she chuckles, “... and you would always win, with that awesome Charmander of yours. Do you still have him?”

He nods, patting the pokeball strapped to his waste.

“Ah. He must be such a big one now huh? A Charzard right?”

He nods again. There’s a look in his eyes that she can’t quite read, but she dismisses it and continues on with her explanation.

“Anyway, I guess since I moved away after you became the Champion, you forgot about me huh?”

This takes him aback. A newfound form of defense rising in his system.

“Wait a minute. You can’t just say that!”

“What?”

“That I ‘just forgot about you’ because I ‘became the Champion.’” he says, his defensive side on full blast as he uses air quotes to emphasize his disagreement. “I don’t even know you! And if I did, a friend would never assume that! If anything, it sure does sound like you were jealous of me if you can accuse me of that so easily.”

She scoffs with an offended shake of her head.

“Excuse me? I would never be jealous! I never was!”

“Then why don’t I remember you? Why didn’t you ever stay in contact with me if we were ‘such great friends!?’”

The air quotations used made that phrase sting, it piercing a wounded nerve that never fully healed in her heart.

“I never stayed in contact with you!? You can’t even remember! You don’t know SHIT!”

“Then enlighten me, oh knowledgeable one! Because your story isn’t turning out very believable.”

She stared at him, not able to process what to say. The pain in her heart resurfaced, something she hoped would never happen again. She knew she tried. Oh she tried so hard to remain friends with the boy who became Champion at such a young age. She wrote to him as often as possible. Replies only existed on occasions, and even then they were short and unmoving. So of course, soon enough, all efforts to keep a friendship afloat was thrown overboard. What would one expect from a pair of ten year olds with short attention spans? Not that he had one. No. His was the excuse of being constantly busy. Matches being forced upon a young boy. Exposure to the media. Instant fame. All the features that would keep someone busy. And of course, that forced the end to anything they could have possessed. The only way was for the one reaching out to stop all hopes. To learn to grow up. And to perhaps do so at the same rate that he endured.  

She looked down at the floor, face filled with disappointment. Perhaps there was no convincing someone of a lost friendship.

“I’m sorry. I… I made it up. So, much for a first impression I guess,” she tried, a smile forced upon her lips as she looked up. He stared at her, eyebrows knit together. How could she just say things like that? There was obviously something she needed to convince him of. To end all efforts meant she was truly making it up, or her nerves were all too much. He softened, sitting up and clearing his throat.

“I-it’s fine. Uh…” he didn’t know how to continue further. It was too much now. The mood was ruined. There was too much of a tension in the air for either of them to speak. 

They sat there, with a silence so thick neither felt like they could breath. Suddenly, she stood. She cleared her throat, and went to her room. He stared after her, dumbfounded. What was he supposed to do now? Was he supposed to apologize as well? He felt a pang of guilt, but he wasn’t sure of what for. He bit his lip, confusion filling his system. He also stood, placing a hand on his forehead. Perhaps it wouldn’t be right for him to accompany her across Galar after all. With one last glance to the room she disappeared into, he walked to the door, and opened it. He was just about to step out when he heard her voice.

“You’re leaving?”

He turned back.

“I thought you wouldn’t want me here anym--”

“No! I-I’m sorry… I was just gathering… my… stuff…” she said, eyes shifting to the side as she revealed her suitcase. He stared at her, yet again, with an inaudible “oh” escaping his lips. Silence resurfaced.

“You still want me to… help you out?” he asked, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

Oh, how much more awkward this has become.

“Well, I mean I waited for you this long.”

He looked up at her, seeing she was trying her best to lighten the mood. He nodded, his own attempt at a smile showing on his face. 

“Let’s go then,” he said, opening the door wider, allowing her to walk through first. Oh how interesting of an adventure this would be. 

~~~~~

To say things got better… would be a massive disappointment. The air about them was now always filled with a tinge of discomfort, neither knowing how to address the other’s obvious feelings. They traveled in silence, both on their phones doing nothing in particular, but looking as if they were busy to stifle any form of conversation. It wasn’t until they entered Wedgehurst Station that anything interesting was said.

 “Wow… it’s a lot smaller than I remember,” (Name) said, slowly turning to take in the sights all around her. “But much more beautiful.”

“Yeah. It really is,” Leon said, nodding in agreement as he himself looked around at the 

rolling fields that made up the small town. He stopped for a moment, then looked at her. “You’ve… been here?”

“Yeah, of course,” she replied, not once taking her eyes off of the fields. “I used to live here.”

He was taken aback by this. Was she really telling the truth about knowing him when he was young? He looked at her, watching her reaction as she longingly stared at the scene around them. It wasn’t long until a crowd formed however, the people finally noticing the Champion was in their midst. 

“Leon!”

“We’ve missed you!”

“It’s great to see you here!”

All this and more could be heard coming from the people surrounding him. His face broke out into a smile, greeting the people as if they were friends. She watched this, noticing his change in mood like a flick of a switch. To think he could so easily go from a serious face to something with so much eagerness to please with just a call of his name.

She moved to the side, watching as he greeted everyone, each person getting their time with their beloved Champion. The crowd soon grew smaller, until a single boy stood in front of him, the widest grin placed on his face.

“Lee!” the boy exclaimed. He looked oddly familiar, with the same colored locks and the same sparkle of golden eyes as the man in front of him. Leon chuckled, ruffling the boy’s hair as he pulled him into a hug. 

“Hop! What’s up mate? How’ve you been?” 

“LEEee! I literally just saw you a few days ago! But, I’ve been fine. I’m glad you're here! Did you take the person around Galar like you said you would?” the boy asked, looking up to his brother.

“Uh-huh. Actually she’s here right now,” Leon said, whispering the last bit into the younger’s ear.

Hop looked around, spotting (name) quickly as he beamed at her. She waved, her own attempt at a smile aimed at the boy who looked ever so much like Leon. 

“Hi! I’m Hop! You must be (name)!” he exclaimed, walking over and taking out his hand to shake.

“Aha, yes. That's me,” she replied, taking his hand in her own. 

“Lee’s told me all about you! You must have so many pokemon as someone who travels around the Regions often! Seen any rare ones?! How many do you have?! Can I see them!?” he exclaims. His enthusiasm is nice, but just the way he looks so much like his brother makes her tense. She doesn’t know how to respond, that is until Leon places a hand on the bouncing boy’s shoulder.  

“Haha. Alright Hop, let’s give her a break. You can ask her all about her Pokemon when we get settled at home.” -- the boy opens his mouth again, but Leon beats him to it -- “and after we eat dinner.”

Hop looks as if he physically deflates, his enthusiasm replaced with a glum look. It quickly returns, however, as he insists to take her luggage. She couldn’t say no, so she allowed him to do so. He soon starts running as he calls back he’ll beat the two to the house. Leon shakes his head at his overly hyper brother, (name) letting out a snicker as she watches him do so.

“What?” he asks, enjoying the fact that she is amused.

“Nothing,” she says, starting to walk in the direction that Hop went. He followed, wanting to start a conversation after such a long silence they both endured. 

“So… how long ago did you move away from Wedgehurst?” 

The question surprises her.

“Oh… well it was quite a long time ago. I would say… around 17 years?” she replies, a thoughtful look on her face as she tries to recall the exact time. “I don’t remember much. It was definitely a lot different…”

She trails off, not knowing what else to say. 

“Uh… yeah! I mean, um, when I was younger this place definitely wasn’t as lively as it is now… I mean, I guess that’s because everyone knows that this is my hometown…”  

“Ah. I see.”

The awkward silence is placed yet again. He wished he could figure out what else to say but he truly was at a loss of words. How to talk to her after such a blunder the first time they spoke was confounding to him. He just wanted to fix the relationship they never had. Or so he thought.

Nearing his parents house, (name) grew even more uneasy. It looked exactly the same as she remembered, the place she had visited oh-so-many times. Why did he have to forget her? It would make things all the worse if his parents were able to remember and not him. She stopped in her tracks, shaking her head as she stared down at the floor. 

“What’s wrong?” 

She heard him, but didn’t care to listen to his obvious sound of concern. She didn’t want anything to do with another situation that would lead to his utter confusion. The fact he didn’t remember hurt all too much, but if his parents could and he could not? It would cause all the more heartache. And so, with a swift turn, she ran. She had no idea where she would go, but as long as she didn’t have to step inside that house, everything would definitely be all the better.

Leon, however, didn’t know how to react. Her sudden exit was not what he was expecting, and he had no clue how he would comfort her now. He knew she was hurt. Knew that her story of a lost friendship was becoming all the more real as he learned more about her. He glanced at the door, only inches away, but knew leaving her alone would never be of help to her. In a final seconds decision, he quickly ran after her, only able to see her retreating form heading for the Slumbering Weald.

~~~~

How he found her, he had no idea. As someone who was terrible with directions, Leon finally found her sitting alone on an extremely old looking swing. The trees surrounding left the slightest gleam of light enter through the leaves, illuminating her hair and back. She hadn’t yet noticed him, but the sound of sniffles could be heard. 

SNAP

Her head flung up, turning to Leon as he slowly lifted his gaze from the twig he just stepped on. His eyes were wide, but softened as he noticed her features blotched with red, and tearstained. He stepped towards her, but stopped when she turned away.

“Why’re you here?” she asked, head bowed as a tinge of venom escaped her lips. He gulped, but continued to walk towards her, ‘till his figure towered over her sunken form.

“I wanted to know that you were okay…”

“You don’t need to. I’m fine, so you can just leave,” her hand waved him off, eyes still not meeting his own.

At this point, he didn’t know what to say. What was the point of following her when he knew she didn’t want him to be around? He sighed, placing a hand at the back of his head as he ran his fingers through his hair. What to do… What to do… he wondered to himself, and finally took in the scene around him. 

This patch of opening in the forest was something that seemed familiar to him. A place he remembered stumbling upon on his own when he was young. He had no idea how he made it there, but recalled returning whenever he wanted to be alone. Then he remembered the slightest of detail that made him turn to her ever so quickly. 

“How did you know about this place?” he asked, a sense of hope in his voice as he started to understand.

“I… I stumbled upon it when I was young… It was my--”

“Quiet place?” he finished. She raised her head again, turning to stare at him in wonder.

“Yes… it was…”

“I used to come here too. You know, when I just wanted to get away.”

A moment's flash, and the recollection of a girl sitting on this exact swing entered his mind.   

“Could-could you tell me more about how we met?”

The sudden question made her stare at him even more, confusion falling over her as he looked back into her glossy eyes. She gulped.

“Why do you want to know? I thought you didn’t care.”

He cringes at her words, his brows creasing as he looks to the floor.

“No never. I-I do care…” he looked back up to her to finish, “just tell me. Please?”

Her eyes searched his, moving over his features to see if there was any falter in what looked like sincerity. She found none. She sighed.

“I first met you when I was what? Maybe 9? 10--?”

“When? Where?”

She tilted her head, looking at him in disapproval from his interruption. He sheepishly looked away in his embarrassment from eagerness. She sighed again.

“I was on my way here actually, when I could hear the softest voice speaking in the woods ahead. In fact, in the place where I was headed. I was careful. Quiet. And then, I saw you with your charmander, speaking to it in the most loving way a ten-year-old could speak to something. It looked hurt from what I could tell, but you were comforting it in such a way, I wanted to know what you were saying. So I stepped out. I guess I had made too much noise because you immediately looked up. Which also drew the attention of your pokemon.”

Leon looked at her with such an intensity, trying to search his mind's eye of any recollection of an event like this. She continued, ignoring his strong gaze.

“It got scared, from what I saw, and you yourself seemed pretty startled. I mean, you hid the poor thing from me, as if I hadn’t seen it already. I didn’t dare step closer, only because I didn’t want you or it to go anywhere. Not like you could… but still….

“I tried talking to you. I was an extremely shy child back then, so just allowing myself a ‘hello’ took a bit of courage to say. I walked closer, and crouched just in front of you, each of us just staring at the other, not knowing what to say. At this point you had a curious look in your eyes, as if you wanted to say something, perhaps to ask how I ended up in your secret place…. Our secret place. And just as I was about to ask who you were, your charmander ran up to me, taking a defensive turn to try and protect you. I of course got scared, myself not owning a pokemon of my own and not sure of how I was supposed to defend myself. So, I ran. And that’s how we met.”

She stopped her story, blinking at Leon as he shook his head in confusion.

“That’s it!?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s how we met?” he sounded incredulous.

“Mmhm.”

“Then how exactly did we become friends?”

“Well that’s the question now, isn’t it?”

“Well I am asking it.”

She laughed.

“Okay, fine. Next time we met, I thought I would be sure to be here,” -- she motioned to the spot they were in -- “before you. So, I would come everyday, the same time I remembered you being here. I went everyday for weeks, and one day, I realized perhaps I would never get to see the golden eyed boy with the feisty charmander. So here I was, sitting on this exact swing, thinking to myself, when I heard steps. I looked up, and woah and behold, you were there.”

His eyes widen at this revelation.

“I remember this!”

“Huh?” 

He nods vigorously now, another flood of memory entering his mind as he jumps back.

“Yes! I do! I remember you, sitting right there! In my spot! And I remember I got so mad that --”

“That you challenged me to a pokemon battle?” she intervened, a blossom of hope entering her eyes as she eagerly sat up.

“Yeah! And I remember, I remember you just stared at me. You stared with those big… pretty... eyes… and gave me that look of utter confusion… and wonder… and….” he trailed off, looking at her the same way he did as a little boy. He always thought she was pretty, even as a young lad. He remembered how her eyes sparkled when she tilted her head, not understanding his sudden attempt at a challenge. And how he remembered his contempt when she told him she had no pokemon of her own to battle with. And then, he remembered his own wonder, at how in the world this girl could have no pokemon of her own to love and to hold. 

He looked at her for a few moments longer, her face expressing the same emotion he just described, waiting for him to continue. He smiled and went on. 

“And I gave up when you told me you had no pokemon. Instead, I found it was my duty to help you get one of your own, so that we could battle and I could regain my spot for my own… but that didn’t happen now did it?”

She shook her head.

“We decided to share it,” she replied.

Leon smiled even wider than before.

“Yeah. We did.”

There was a long pause in the air. A silence that had risen between them yet again, but this time something that was welcomed and not filled with awkwardness or discomfort.

“So… you do remember?” she asked, standing from her seat on the swing, but holding onto the rope that held it up.

“Yeah. I do.”

And then his happiness turned to sadness as he recalled the rest of the story.

“I remember you telling me right before my challenge with the champion that you were leaving. That you were moving away from Galar and probably never coming back. And I remember getting so mad at you. Mad and sad. And it was because of those feelings that I was able to beat the Champion. But it was also that feeling that caused me to push you away.”

She gasped, looking into his golden eyes as she herself recalled the betrayal felt when her only friend started to push her away.

“I-I thought that since you were leaving, it would be best to just not talk to you anymore. And since I was the new Champion, it made it all the more easier. So when you left… it didn’t make a difference to me… because I was already prepared to forget about ever seeing you…”

She looked to the ground, his honesty hurting her more than he could imagine. 

So her attempts at mending their friendship was futile after all. It wasn’t because his Champion duties took away his time. It was because he truly did not care. And with this can of worms opened, it only made the heartache hurt more. 

A sniff, and then her eyes welled with tears, herself biting her lip in an attempt at trying not to cry. Her attempts betrayed her when he said more.

“I remember you sending me letters now. I read each one. And all they did was rekindle the fire of sadness that was in my ten year old heart. All I wanted was for my friend to be there with me along the way. To be of help when I needed you. So that’s why, I don’t remember. You leaving hurt me so much, that I guess I must have pushed the very thought of you away.”

And then the floodgates broke. A sob exited her lips as she covered her mouth, and with that one sound, she was engulfed into his arms. He held her as she cried, caressing her hair in attempts to comfort her. He let her cry as much as she wanted, because he knew this was what she needed. A way to help cope with her feelings after such a long time of remembering such a heartache. When there were no tears left to cry, she leaned back in his arms. Looking into her tearstained face, one last question entered his mind.

“Why didn’t you just forget me? Why keep this inside of you for so long?”

She didn’t look into his eyes, but had an unfocused stare that she placed on his chest.

“I guess it’s because you meant so much to me. You were practically my first friend. The person who caught me my first pokemon. Who challenged me to so many pokemon battles that always ended in your success. The only one that I enjoyed spending time with because you were so fun to be around. I guess that’s why. Knowing you could so easily forget is the reason why it hurt so much. Because I cared so much.”

He nodded, not knowing what to say. Instead he lifted her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes. They stayed like this for a few moments, then he smiled.

“Geez, I’m glad I got to meet you again. Maybe it wasn’t in the best way to rekindle our friendship, but it was definitely the most interesting. The question is, are you alright with forgiving me for being such a dummy for so long?”

She giggled as she wrapped her arms around him again. 

“Of course I am,” she said, her head resting on his chest.

“Good. I’m glad.”

They finally let go of each other, a new air about them as they sighed in relief.

“So, ready to get back to my place?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

“Think you could lead the way? I get lost easily…”

She laughed in response, placing a hand on his shoulder as she shook her head.

“Yeah. Sure. Come on you forgetful man,” she laughed as she walked back through the trees.

“Hey! I’m not that forgetful!” 

“Haha okay bud.”

“I’m serious!”

And so, perhaps her trip back to Galar wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be, now that things were out in the open and everything was alright with Lee.

[yaboylevi]

Does Eren's question mean that he has a cruch on Mikasa?

Mmm, I’ll try to explain how I read the scene.

Short answer: No, I do not believe Eren has a crush on Mikasa and the scene, albeit presented in a romantic light from Mikasa’s pov, it was not on Eren’s part. Same as usual, I’d argue.

I will expand on this under the cut, but I just want to reiterate that this is just my interpretation, as one of the anons said, and I am aware everyone is free to have their own, even if they might puzzle me. You are free to disagree, but please don’t send me hate messages.

Upon reading the chapter the first time, I didn’t feel romantic vibes. It was actually quite tragic and disappointing for me to see one of my favorite characters (Mikasa) completely misunderstand my favorite character (Eren), in spite of how close they are supposed to be. I was so depressed and disturbed by the whole chapter, that even if I read it at 5 AM and I could’ve slept another 2 hours before having to actually wake up, I just laid in bed restlessly, absolutely depressed. I even tweeted about it lol.

Anyway, I was pretty busy that week, and only later I found out most people interpreted the scene as Eren being in love with Mikasa. It was a shock for me. It was literally the opposite of what I personally understood.

- Eren’s headspace

Let’s first talk about Eren and where his mind is in this chapter.

I felt discomfort and anxiety throughout the whole chapter. I am a pretty empathetic person, so I realized why I was feeling like that only later, after rationalizing chapter 123: Eren’s memories (which we know are horrible and gruesome and depressing) were being triggered the whole time he was in Marley and it was disturbing to watch.

He looks distressed and uncomfortable. His gaze is often unfocused (or, well, not focused on the present) and he is constantly spacing out - Armin notices but doesn’t seem to care or understand why. Honestly, it is cringe-worthy seeing Eren’s friends’ behavior. They should know what memories Eren has of this place. I do not know if anyone reading right now is familiar with triggers and what they do to a mind affected by PTSD. It’s enough to know that you feel like suffocating because you are fundamentally battling a panic attack and you ideally would want to get away from the source that is triggering you. So, imagine being in a situation you can’t escape from and everything is triggering your worst nightmares. Literally.

Even here, I’m ashamed no one in canon (and almost even in the fandom?) realizes or bothers to be understanding and careful, even when Eren makes a disturbing comment about it. Mikasa admits to it when it's all too late.

The ice-cream scene, just like the one I’m supposed to analyze in this post, is rose-tinted through Mikasa’s glasses, until we are faced with reality and are asked to reflect on Eren’s emotional state, again and again.

Reality is not a happy trip in a foreign country. Reality is a crowd of grown men wanting to hang a child because he’s different. Reality is people wanting to kill them all. Reality is Eren being triggered by ice-cream. Imagine being unable to look at a certain food because it reminds you of people being abused and brutally killed, something that you have actual memories of.

It’s just really frustrating seeing Mikasa looking at Eren, with this dumbfounded look on her face, every time Eren’s eyes seem to scream “help”.

The strain he is put under for the whole time culminates in him crying while looking at the war victims’ homes. Here at this moment, Mikasa enters the scene.

- The “eremika” scene

At this point, Eren’s reminiscing about an awful part of his past, and has a pretty clear idea of what will happen in Marley in a close future. We can be certain of this because he voices both of these topics out loud.

Eren is visibly distressed. Honestly, I’m pretty sure his voice in this scene will be quite telling of his emotional state in the anime. The direction his thoughts go, when expressed out loud, and the expression on his face are self-explanatory. Or should be, at least.

It doesn’t matter that Mikasa hasn’t seen him cry, she saw Eren wipe his face and noticed that there is, again, something wrong, but she doesn’t even ask him if he’s alright. She either doesn’t comprehend the depth of Eren’s pain, yet again, or she isn’t brave enough to ask. I believe it’s the former.

The whole chapter revolves around Mikasa’s inability to see Eren’s true feelings. Chapter 123 opens with this concept. And it is also quite clear that everything is retold from her point of view, so we shouldn’t complacently accept a surface reading of it; we are instead invited to have a deeper look into the events, both by Mikasa’s initial lines as well as the not at all subtle visual storytelling. So yeah, she has a perspective on Eren that is wrong. I think we should keep this in mind.

That’s why the moment she thinks ice-cream can make Eren happy, she is wrong. The moment she thinks Eren’s question has romantic implications, she is wrong. The moment she wonders if a different answer could’ve prevented Eren from choosing this path, she is also wrong...

Let’s go back to the scene.

Eren opens up on his own, even if Mikasa didn’t ask. He’s always been open throughout the time-skip (and even before), but I believe at this moment he has reached the breaking point since landing in Marley. He is at the most vulnerable. Like a dam finally breaking, his walls, that he had tried to keep up until that moment, fall and his feelings/thoughts spill out, after being mostly silent all day.

His short monologue is a direct continuation, or out loud repetition, of what he had been thinking about only moments before and that had caused him to cry. I believe the future he has decided upon also plays a part in it, but he doesn’t voice it, just offhandedly acknowledge its existence with that “Not yet.” comment.

Seeing a family living in poor conditions because of a war they didn’t even have any say in, has triggered Eren’s memories of the past. His and Mikasa’s and Armin’s past. They only had each other, as family, because the adults weren’t there anymore, unjustly killed, like many others. They had experienced first hand what it meant to lose your loved ones, to live a life without enough food, enough rest, enough protection. Without freedom.

Mikasa doesn’t say anything to this. She doesn’t know how to reply, and, thanks to the chapters dedicated to the time-skip, we know this has been going on for years. It’s honestly…disappointing.

And even before the time-skip, we know that she sometimes projected her insecurities and wishes on Eren, misinterpreting him really badly, to the point of making situations romantic when it really weren't.

The scene in chapter 123 is no different, especially because, as I said, it is explicitly a chapter told from Mikasa’s point of view where she also explicitly says she hasn’t been seeing Eren correctly.

There have been a lot of parallels with past chapters in this recent arc, and even 123 wasn’t lacking in this department: if the ice-cream scene parallels the ocean scene, with everyone having fun, while Eren is in emotional pain and discomfort; This other scene parallels chapter 50. At the ocean, Eren’s words gave pause to everyone, but in chapter 123 nobody, quite frankly, gives a damn about Eren to the point that they forget about him. Similarly, in chapter 50 Mikasa had managed to express her feelings for Eren’s existence (gratitude, acceptance and unconditional love - not necessarily romantic), and managed to surprisingly help him because she understood his needs on a basic level. In chapter 123, she doesn’t understand Eren’s pain and so she doesn’t say the right thing (that, btw, wouldn’t have changed Eren’s mind about his future actions, imo).

Just like in chapter 50, Eren is in an emotionally fragile moment, and what he needs, unconsciously, is the reassurance that he is loved, that someone cares about him for who he is, even if he feels undeserving of it.

I believe he is feeling despair on both occasions.

Of course, we can only guess about what made Eren cry in this new chapter, because we don’t have access to his mind this time around, but I’m sure it’s a mixture of things: knowing how ineluctable their future seems, and whatever it entails is upsetting for Eren as well; empathy for someone else’s painful condition because he’s been there before; probably also sadness, because he knows what he himself will cause to happen (as implied by that “not yet”) as well as that his time with his found family and friends is about to end; the bonds he will have to break, something that breaks Eren in return.

So it’s honestly not that surprising that he searches for comfort. I guess he’s been struggling with what he has seen in his future because he would have never thought himself able to kill innocents. His mindset used to be about protecting himself and his loved ones and innocents from being robbed of their freedom, yet he knows he is about to become someone who takes away that freedom, along with lives. For him, life equals freedom, because when you are born you are intrinsically free. So his future actions must have been weighing heavy on his mind and heart.

I find it fitting and incredibly sad that he asks Mikasa what she thinks of him now, after talking about families being robbed of their freedom and how much pain this causes.

Mikasa has always been family to him. So has been Armin, but Mikasa is somehow different. She has lived with him, he has directly invited her to be part of his family, he admitted he childishly rejected her familial care because he was jealous but after this admittance, he embraces it. Opening Grisha’s book together was an important moment exactly because they are family, and that was their home.

They are constantly compared to family. It doesn’t matter, in my opinion, that Mikasa holds also romantic feelings for Eren. She primarily sees him as family, too.

They are what is left of the Yeager household, and the story has highlighted this.

So I believe that in his pain in 123, Eren seeks something, a word of comfort, an assurance that he is not just a killer or a failure, and that he is Eren, someone who has been trying to do the right thing since forever, someone who has done the right thing often, someone who is deserving of the care of the girl he once saved (even if the question clearly implies he doesn’t think he deserves it). In chapter 50, Eren invokes his mother. I am sure he is searching for the same kind of warmth here too. The warmth of his family.

The scene, to me, felt a lot more about Eren’s feelings of self-hatred and Mikasa missing the point.

The entirety of the chapter is meant to show how Mikasa didn’t understand Eren: both by ignoring some signs and misunderstanding others.

He is suffering, but she thinks he is asking her about her romantic feelings.

She blushes, yet Eren has just finished crying and becomes teary-eyed once again.

He is distressed and looks haunted, during both of the rose-colored scenes with Mikasa. 

His questions are almost needy. Yet, she fails to understand what Eren was in need of: comfort, understanding, an “I care about you because it’s YOU”. Something that she implied later in chapter 112, when it was indeed too late.

- The two choices were possibly both wrong

Eren presented two options and I think they were both partially correct but at the same time incomplete, because Mikasa’s care for Eren is comprised of many facets. We don’t know what he thinks of Mikasa's answer because we don’t see his reaction to it. However, he seems at peace, later on, falling asleep next to the closest members of his found family, meaning he is content with and values the way their relationship is. 

Eren surely doesn’t regret saving Mikasa. He also surely considers Mikasa his family, as I stated before. But there are certain kinds of expectations in being family and in being someone’s savior. You will always care about someone who literally saved your life. You will always care about family because they are…well, family. No matter how messed up they may be, they will always have a small place in your heart, whether it’s bad or good. 

“You’re my savior” might imply a dependance or sticking to someone just to repay them. “Family” might have the meaning of “it’s my duty to look after you because it’s simply what family members do”. Both also imply that Mikasa will be hurt even worse by what Eren is about to do.

These weren’t the answers Eren needed, perhaps.

As I said already, I believe that what he searched for, was a different answer. If Mikasa had told him she cared about him as a person, as Eren himself, Eren would have felt reassured - because he would be loved for the neutral quality of simply existing. That’s also what made him feel better, when hearing Carla’s words at the end of Uprising. That he was loved, cared for, and worthy of existing just for being born. No expectations, no burdens. An “I stick with you because I love you (romantically)” could have held the same meaning, potentially, because love is love, but in no way this means Eren wanted a romantic answer or that he feels the same way. Besides, that’s not the reason Mikasa cares about Eren, that’s just a side effect, imo.

And I don’t believe Mikasa, at the question “what am I to you?”, believes she should have responded with “you are the love of my life”. That would’ve been so out of place, because Eren is not the love of her life. He is more. I think family well describes it, but her half-assed, panicked answer wasn’t truthful or as powerful as her words were in chapter 50, so they had no real effect and felt unsatisfying for everyone, honestly.

I always stated that if Eren fell in love with someone else, their love for one another wouldn’t change, because the strongest feeling Mikasa feels for Eren isn’t romantic love, and romantic love is something that has never been in Eren’s mind when it came to Mikasa, as shown countless times (or rather, the lack of romantic undertones on his part re:Mikasa should be proof enough, imo).

Anyway, I could be wrong, but I can’t see it any other way. I think it’s a very complex scene to analyze and there is way more than meets the eye, especially because we aren’t granted access to Eren.

I am a great fan of Mikasa, but this scene and chapter made me reconsider her a lot, unfortunately. I strongly believed she had resolved and understood her complicated feelings for Eren in chapter 50, so she had reached a less biased view, but there has been a regression. The same happened with Armin, his character arc was about him growing confident in himself, and learning to always pay close attention to his own realistic reading of the world, but he has just become unsure of what he has to do and lost his cynical edge.

And finally, I want to quickly address another two points so I don't have to talk about this scene anymore until new information is revealed:

The “perfect timing” comment: I interpreted it as Eren knowing what was about to happen and being depressed but used to his memories being correct. Proof, for me, is Mikasa being confused at Eren’s comment, just like she was at the “not yet” one. Besides, they had already been interrupted by the old man and he didn’t seem to mind, so this “perfect timing” has nothing to do with their friends “ruining” the moment. He willingly invites them to join in and finally, he is content and relaxed, when he is with all of them. He loves them all. 

Mikasa’s comment about “if only I had said something different”: I think she may have realized that it wasn’t a romantic situation - because clearly, her romantic inclinations have clouded her judgment. That she had failed to understand Eren’s feelings and his reason for bringing up Mikasa’s care for him. I don’t sense a “I should’ve told him I loved him”. Because honestly, familial love IS love. Platonic love IS love, too. If Eren wasn’t “saved” by the purest form of love, I don’t see how any other type of love could’ve changed anything. That panel, revisited by the current Mikasa, focuses even more on Eren’s tears. Eren’s deep sadness clashes with Mikasa’s initial frivolous reading of the moment. So stating that she believes she should’ve confessed, means going against what the chapter has stated to be…not right.

Thank you for reading all of this, if anyone has managed to! :)

[sevenincubistolemyheart]

Of Leeches and Secrets

Au: Demon

Tag list: @xsunnyhoseokx @amiraclerenee @illneverrecover​

Rating: M

Potential Triggers: Kinks in this fic include marking, possession, aphrodisiac use(supernatural power), and overstimulation. There’s also non-explicit mentions of torture. 

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Supernatural Smut, Brief Angst, Fluff

Length: 3.2k+

A/N: Happy Valentines Day @illneverrecover​!! I really hope you enjoy this bby! I struggled with including a certain someone but I hope you liked how I ended up including him and that his personality was okay!! Much love~ -Sheridan

All Taehyung had wanted to do was keep his race a secret from you. You'd been perfectly content with your normal, happy, Human boyfriend. But no- that bratty bloodsucker had ruined it all with his big mouth. 

He'd had to teleport home in a panic as he felt a rush of fear assault him from your end of the bond. The Marks he littered all over your body served 2 purposes- showing his ownership to the Humans yes but also to the world you had no idea of- race after race of supernaturals. 

He always ensured his scent was all over you too- clearly, it still hadn't been enough if the Vampire hovering over your small looking form on the couch wasn't enough proof. 

He snarled and threw Baekhyun harshly into the wall by his collar and knelt down to look into your eyes, taking in your fearful, shock filled gaze. 

He reached out to comfort you and his face and heart both fell as he saw you recoil.

Pain flashed across his face before a hiss of fury escaped him as he whirled to face Baekhyun who was effortlessly dusting himself off, a small smirk adorning his lips. 

"You really shouldn't break your own apartment you know. The walls are thin as it is."

"What the fuck are you doing here? You know better than to touch-"

He cut himself off, knowing his continuation of 'what belongs to me' wouldn't sit well with the Human he adored so much. 

“-random people you don’t know!! Our issue has nothing to do with her!”

Baekhyun hummed, eyes wide and innocent as he shrugged. 

"I haven't touched her once. Just told her a few things. She deserved to know the truth. I mean you have been keeping an awful lot of secrets from her. I couldn't help but want to dispel the poor things ignorance. What if a mean, scary Vampire wanted to suck her dry~?"

He flashed his fangs and let the true red of his eyes appear for a moment in a playful gesture. 

"She should be reassured having an even scarier demon on her side, don'tcha think?"

Taehyung let his words sink in and soon had to take a deep breath to stop his furious shaking as he turned his attention to you- ignoring Baekhyun for the moment. Bastard always knew how to push his buttons and he clearly wanted him to snap so he'd scare you more. 

"...Are you okay baby?"

His voice was nothing but gentle as he knelt down and looked up into your eyes. 

You finally spoke, eyes oddly resolute compared to the blank pools they were moments ago. 

"I'm fine. Just tell me the truth. Are you really a Fallen Angel like Baek said?"

The nickname you used for the Vampire made him bristle but he nodded. 

"Mm. I know this must come as a shock but-"

You shook your head and laughed weakly as you stood up to pace. 

"Actually it just makes me feel like I'm finally not crazy. You disappeared every night and now there's a good reason. Do you…"

You bit your lip, looking hesitant for the first time. 

"Do you actually torture people?"

He looked to the side knowing his answer wasn't one most Humans would like. 

 “I...Yeah. They're truly vile people but it’s my job. Being here on Earth doesn’t change that. I could switch to espionage on the Angels if that would make you feel more comfortable-”

Perhaps not nearly as fun as his current position but what could he say? He’d fallen for you and he was willing to sacrifice for that.

You bit your lip, a nervous tic he’d noticed you did when under stress and hesitantly met his gaze. 

“Do you enjoy it?” 

“Yes. Very much.” 

He answered without hesitation. 

Your eyes lowered once more and you fiddled with your thumbs as your voice grew quieter. 

“Would...you want to do that to me if I ever went to Hell?”

He couldn’t stop the burst of laughter that escaped his lips if he tried, trying to get it under control as your head snapped up in surprise. 

“Ahaha!! Oh, sweetheart, you are not going to Hell.”

You frowned slightly, voice growing stronger. 

“That’s not what I asked Taehyung. Do you want to hurt me? To torment me like you do those people? Has this all been a game to you!?!” 

Your voice rose and the glassiness of your eyes made his laughter cut off sharply as he gently cradled your cheek in his large palm. 

“Oh, baby no. I...I may be a sadist, yes but I would never want to hurt you. You showed me that humanity wasn’t such a vile cesspool beyond saving. You made my fall for being curious worth it. “ 

His face held a serious expression so unlike him that you let out a sigh of relief as you nuzzled your cheek into his hand.

“...And what about the other boys? And Baekhyun's group? Are you all demons?”

Baekhyun snorted as he slung himself on the couch on the opposite side to you carelessly. 

“Don’t lump me in with those weak fear generators. It’s just Kai and me who’re Vamps. The rest are Humans. We both figured it’d be fun to spend the next while influencing the world through our music.” 

He shrugged, sounding bored as he yawned. 

Taehyung scoffed, as a ghost of a smirk pulled at his lips. 

“At least I’m more than a common mosquito. As for the other boys- we’re actually all different races. It’s part of the reason we’re as successful as we are. Between Jimin as an Incubus, Yoongs as a Siren and Hobi as an Angel with memory manipulation- there’s plenty of supernatural appeal pulling Humes to us that we have no control over.” 

Seeing your wide wonder-filled eyes he chuckled under his breath and opted against keeping you in suspense like he could’ve. 

“Jungkook is a Shifter- he can take on any of our appearances and also take on one of our abilities in addition to his own. He can mimic our voices easily too. Namjoon is a Bloodsucker like this one-” He raised his chin at Baekhyun who rolled his eyes. “But he’s much more bearable. Jin is a Human but a gifted time traveler so he’s wiser than any of us would typically care to admit. That’s everyone.” 

You let out a little laugh of disbelief at both of their answers. 

“That’s...damn. Kai too?” 

You asked Baekhyun who smirked. 

“...Vamps can read thoughts just so you know love.” 

He mentioned offhandedly, relishing as you gasped and were quick to look away. Your cheeks turned red from the blood rushing to them as you blushed madly and he took in your scent with great pleasure. 

Taehyung’s eyes darkened as he took in the exchange but he said nothing, merely settling for looking between the two of you.

“But yes, Kai too. There’s a reason you’ve never been left alone with him and why Tae is so careful about being near whenever we’re at an event with you. He can be a bit...unstable with those with blood as sweet as yours appears to be.”

Taehyung had had enough of being left out. 

“Isn’t it about time you left? Got some mice to suck dry?”

He managed to get out through gritted teeth. 

Baekhyun only beamed.

“I don’t think I want to~. And I’d say your pretty little thing doesn’t want me to either, if her thoughts concerning my appearance are anything to go by.” 

His eyes darkened as he suddenly was much closer than before; his sudden lunge at you leading to him looming over you. He turned your face to him with two fingers as he made you meet his gaze, giving a lustful snarl that went right to your core, making you shiver. 

“Every thought you had when you saw us perform, when you met me the first time-” His smirk was one of a shark, sharp fangs only drawing the comparison closer as he clearly smelled blood in the water. 

“Especially that time when I made eye contact with you…”

Your eyes widened as you immediately recalled what he was talking about. He’d made eye contact with you while at soundcheck during one of their sexier routines and while you couldn’t remember your exact thoughts...they sure weren’t decent with how wet you’d been.

“If you still want I’d be glad to fuck an irresistible girl like you till you see stars and are so thoroughly fucked out you don’t know whether to beg for it to stop or for more.”

You barely mustered the strength to shake your head and only came back to yourself when Taehyung roughly pulled the Vampire off you with a hiss between teeth that equal parts frightened you and turned you on. There was a dark undercurrent to his voice you’d never heard before and-fuck what was wrong with you? It felt like you were drunk all of a sudden. 

You could barely focus on anything but you’re growing need to be filled and while sure; you had your hormone jumps and often had horny spells they were never this intense. 

“Baby? What did that bastard-” 

Taehyung loomed over you with worry in his gaze but you were too focused on how pretty his lips looked and roughly pulled his lips to yours with the hands around his neck, cutting him off abruptly. 

You made out for a few moments but Taehyung quickly put together that something wasn’t right. He was typically the one leading you- you’d never been so absolutely ravenous for him before. He forced himself back with difficulty, caressing your midsection and neck to offer you a sensation to focus on as he turned his attention to Baekhyun who was pouting and looked positively annoyed. 

“What the Hell did you do to her?”

Baekhyun shrugged. 

“I just turned up my aphrodisiac meter some to entice her is all. I didn’t expect it to backfire so much.”

His eyes still very much held his want for you, if the bulge in his pants was anything to go by anyway...and that gave Taehyung an idea. 

Even Baekhyun couldn’t hold back his shudder at the dark smirk and sadistic gleam in his eyes.

"...You think playing around with my girlfriend’s pleasure is okay hm? You poor little leech~ She'll never be swayed to you when she has someone who can actually make her feel pleasure instead of your artificial bullshit. Though I suppose  I'll give you the honor of a front-row seat so your efforts don't go to waste."

Taehyung’s voice was low and almost gentle but rich with cruel happiness that made Baekhyun puff his chest and stand up straight in an attempt to appear more intimidating.

"It's not artificial! I'm sure the slick currently pooling underneath her is proof of that."

He sniped, only to flinch as Taehyung lunged at him and...tapped him? 

He hesitantly peeked one eye open and saw they were now in the Master bedroom. Ugh. Teleportation. He tried to move but frowned as he realized he couldn't move an inch. 

A quick glance at Taehyung had his eyes widening as he hissed under his breath.  

"...Kanima venom."

Taehyung smiled smugly- taking off the glove he'd used to smear the gel-like venom onto his intruders' bare skin carefully and tossed it in the trash. 

"Your ability to speak should be going next. Try and be a good boy and enjoy the show hm? Maybe they'll teach you a lesson about spilling secrets that aren't yours."

He turned his attention to you who was pouting at him and already halfway through taking off your top only for the buttons of your top to have gotten stuck in your hair. 

He chuckled fondly, eyes softening as he gently helped you to untangle yourself. 

"Silly girl; didn't I tell you to wait for me? Now I'm going to have to punish you. I know you're eager but you know better than to disobey your Sir."

The whimper that fell from your lips may have been caused by the aphrodisiac but truthfully you knew it was all his doing. Taehyung always knew how best to make you unravel. 

"B-But Tae-" 

Your whine made him growl; that demonic undercurrent from before making you arch in need but he still wouldn't touch your core, instead letting his fingers play with the button on your jeans- already undone. 

"No buts baby. I'm gonna make you cum so many times you'll wish you were in Hell with me."

Your breath hitched and the smirk that bloomed across his lips made you shiver. 

"Ahhhaha~ I see my hypothesis was right. You like that your boyfriend is a demon don't you? My precious little slut~"

You blushed and tried to deny his claims. 

"I-no that's not it! I just…" 

You squirmed clearly embarrassed and he chuckled darkly before leaving a trail of hot kisses up your neck until he reached your ear where he bit down. 

The hiss of pain you let out caused him to moan before he licked at the red area causing a sharp spike of pleasure to make you mewl.

"Naughty girl~ thinking you can lie to your boyfriend who can read like you a book...and hear your heartbeat."

The tickle of his breath on your ear and his fingers brushing ever so gently over your covered core made you finally cave as you nodded. 

"Okay okay fine!! You win! I find it really hot and I want you to make me beg!" .

You admitted in a rush. 

A muffled moan made your attention turn to the new fixture you'd completely forgotten about. 

Baekhyun looked wrecked. He was panting; clearly desperate for relief if the large bulge set to burst out of his pants was any question, eyes glassy with need. 

When you locked eyes with him you found yourself being drawn in, unable to look away. Maybe you could help him, get fucked by both boys at once-

You found your face being sharply turned back to Taehyung as well as your senses. 

"Don't make me blindfold you Baek. I want you to savor every second of her pleasure as I bring her to the peak mercilessly."

He spoke the words to Baekhyun but his eyes never left your own and you found yourself immediately complying as Taehyung ordered you.  

"On your back baby, knees apart."

You did as instructed and he helped you remove your jeans leaving you in nothing but your underwear and bra. Perhaps you might've been insecure with having Baekhyun watching you like this as well if you weren't so focused on Taehyung and his hands as they roamed from your neck down to your breasts as he lightly flicked his thumbs over the fabric, smirking as you keened and shivered, jolting a little as his fingers brushed across your nipples. 

"Ahh I almost forgot your little aphrodisiac trick increases sensitivity too. Makes the blood pump faster doesn't it…?"

He questioned innocently, knowing he wouldn't receive a response. 

"And unfortunately for you-"

He nuzzled your mound and relished your needy moan.

"That enhanced sensitivity is only gonna get more and more intense the more times I make you cum for me."

The gentle touches and playful teasing were quickly growing to be too much for you with how worked up you were. 

"B-Baby please! I'm sorry okay I'll never even think about Baekhyun or any other man but you again you know I only have eyes for you-!!"  

Taehyung's eyes darkened at the sound of your begging and you squealed as he shut you up by simply pulling your underwear down and off you too quickly for you to see before attacking your core like a man possessed. 

His tongue relentlessly lapped over your clit while also detouring to your lips now and again to keep you on the edge. 

"That's right. You belong to me. No-one else. Least of all that vile brat needing a tan." 

Even the feeling of his breath made you pant as you arched up- needing to feel his lips against you.  Ugh, you were so close!!

"Something wrong babygirl?" 

He taunted with a smirk, now skirting ever so slowly around your clit with his tongue. 

Tears of pleasure were starting to dot your vision and you felt your thighs trembling; a telltale sign of your impending orgasm.

"P-Please. Make me cum Tae. Please. I...nngh…can't bear it-!" 

You mumbled weakly. 

And then you were gasping as he easily brought you over the edge- attacking your clit viciously as his tongue lashed mercilessly over the over-sensitized bud. As your 2nd orgasm of many approached you clenched around nothing at the demonic hiss that left his lips. 

"Oh I'll make you cum alright. I thought you'd never ask."

Needless to say your night was filled with many more orgasms. Whether from his gifted tongue, his merciless fingers or his dick. And you were absolutely littered in marks by the end of the night. At one point he'd even broken the skin just to add an extra layer of torment to his little captive. You'd talked before about overstimulation but by the time he was done you were so tired he had to clean you up and tuck you into bed. 

As you slept soundly he smiled knowingly at Baekhyun, the poor Vampire having cum multiple times himself from the display. He leisurely made his way over to him, lifting the broken boys' hopes of being given the antidote to the venom. 

Instead, Taehyung pet his hair softly for a few moments with a gentle, kind smile on his face. Thankfully, the venom was slowly beginning to finally wear off on its own so he was barely able to speak. 

"Taehyung? What are you-hnn!" 

He yipped like a kicked puppy before moaning as Taehyung cupped his oversensitive crotch, shivering in fear as Taehyung's expression didn't change once even though his eyes were dead and completely devoid of emotion. 

"...Try and come near my girl again. Ever try to manipulate her like that again- and this will be child's play compared to what the succubi and incubi I throw you to will do to you. For a year. Got it?"

His voice was pure demon now, so growled and low the Vampire barely understood it as he rushed to voice his affirmation. 

"Y-Yes! Okay okay please just-"

The world tilted and he closed his eyes, only to find himself back at his apartment with the other boys. 

"The venom will wear off naturally. Pray it's Kai that finds you and that he's not in a mood."

Was all Taehyung called over his shoulder with a smirk before he disappeared, ignoring the vocalists call to let him free.

Taehyung sighed in relief as he snuggled into bed with you, taking off his jeans and placing the antidote in his drawer before crawling beside you and enveloping you in his warm arms. You cuddled into him as you always did- a small hum of contentment leaving your lips and making his eyes soften as he pecked the top of your head. 

Yeah. Maybe you finding out wasn't so bad after all. 

[starkerhowlter]

Daddy Stark’s Surprise

Ship: starker Rating: Explicit Contains: DD/LB, Feminization, biting, Consensual Power play, light Choking, slut-naming, namecalling, degradation, begging, praise-kink, Mirror Sex, Daddy Kink, dom/sub... probably more. Words: 2953 Summary: What Should Peter do to make this Valentine's Day better and different than others? How can he make this one unique?

Read it on AO3

A/N: Oh, my Gods! I'm posting my first smut fic.... By far, this is not my first smut fic I have ever written. Instead, this is the first time I have posted it!!! Woohoo!!! I hope you love it as much as I do! Also, this is sort of a companion fic to this fic, but it can be read alone!

Thank you so so soooooo much to my beta, @plueschpop​! Be sure to go and give her ALL the love for her help in bringing this fic to life.

Peter looks at the outfit laying on the bed, excitedly. He checks his phone again, waiting for the text from Tony that says he's home. Instead, he gets a notification from J.A.R.V.I.S. that Tony wants to see him in the living area.

"There he is!" Peter smiles at the man, waiting to see what's in store. "Happy Valentine's day, princess."

Peter's face brightens when he sees the Spider-bear holding a bouquet of roses on the couch. He picks the stuffed toy up and hugs it to his chest, and then hugs Tony, "Thank you, Tony, Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!" The billionaire laughs and kisses his boyfriend's forehead,

"I'm not done with you yet, Peter. I have some other surprises for you."

The boy tilts his head, curiously, innocently. "What do you mean?"

"I have a few other surprises for you tonight, baby." Tony purrs, "Starting with this." He pulls a box out of his jacket pocket, slipping it into the 21-year-old's hands.

"Wha--" Peter opens the box, accidentally dropping the lid in surprise, "How did you--"

Tony smiles as the boy removes the necklace from the box, and looks at the charm. The little heart gem, brown like his eyes, sits with a tiny golden crown over it. The heart around the little gem meets at the crown reads "Peter" on one side and "Tony" on the other. It's perfect. He smiles as he shows Nat, Wanda, and Carol. All three coo and giggle with him. Thor wraps an arm around Tony's shoulders,  commenting on how the gift was a magnificent choice.

Peter drops the necklace into Tony's hand, smiling shyly. "What's wrong, baby?"

"Nothing, I just want you to help me put it on." Peter smiles and turns around.

Tony smiles at the boy's face and places the charm just beneath his collar bone and connects the clasp behind his head. The boy shivers at the feeling of his nails brushing his spine, and squeaks at the kiss pressed to the base of his head.

"I'm gonna go see what Bucky's doing up there..." He murmurs, "Meet you upstairs soon, princess?"

"U-Uhm... No!" His voice cracks, as it does when he panics, "I'll come and get you!"

Tony laughs, somewhere deep in his throat, and releases the boy, "Alright..." he draws out the 'i' sound, and then walks in the opposite direction of the team and his young boyfriend.

___

Once inside of their shared apartment, Peter looks at the lingerie he has laying on the bed. It all feels like too much, but he knows that his daddy will love it. The idea that Tony may tear the boyshorts sends tingles up his spine. With a deep breath, Peter begins stripping. First his T-shirt, then his jeans, and then his boxers. Carefully, he folds his clothes and places them in the hamper. "Mr Stark is going to love this."

He starts with the Miniskirt-boyshorts combo. Carefully sliding the lacey material up his thighs, making sure everything is covered enough to be teasing. Next, he rolls the little white fishnets up his legs, settling the band at his midthigh. It looks perfect. The bralette comes next. Tony hasn't ever seen him in one before, but he had tested the theory with photos from lingerie magazines left around their house. He always makes sure to leave them open on the men in the outfits, being sure that there is an emphasis on which one Peter likes. He has also varied the choices. From more masculine picks, like boxers and a tight tee, to more feminine picks like the outfit he's wearing now. Peter always notices that Tony lingers more when they're feminine selections than he does when they are masculine.

Silently, he hopes that Tony wouldn't realize the fact that the outfit doesn't fit right. His thighs have grown since he started working out for Spiderman. His hips have widened naturally, causing the rest of his body to change shape too. Clearly, this piece was meant for a female user, but he vows to keep it on, no matter the fact that the band at the base of the bralette touches his abs slightly higher than it does on the model. He will be okay. "Tony's gonna love it," he tells his reflection, making sure everything is perfect.

"Hey, Fri?" "Yes, Peter?"

"Can you turn on the reference photos I had you save earlier?"

"Sure, Peter." She lights up his mirror with all of the files that Peter had saved. Every photo of the pink eyeshadows, brown eyeliners and lipglosses lay against the mirror. He sighs, trying to mimic the photos of the models and coverboys. He fusses over it until his eyes look perfect. Pink eyeshadow, a little brown eyeliner and just enough lipgloss to make his lips look soft. Before leaving the room, he grabs a sheer black robe.

"Do I look too feminine?" he asks his reflection before walking out of the apartment. It was risky, sure. He could get caught, he could get kicked out, a lot of things could happen...

----

"Sir, everything is ready for you~" Peter calls, leaning against the wall, thin fingers playing with his new necklace.

Upon noticing that Bucky is sitting there as well, he yelps and wraps the black robe around his midriff, "Oh, sorry, Mr Barnes, sir! I didn't realize you were here!"

"It's okay, Peter. Also, remember how I told you to call me Bucky?" Bucky smiles, trying hard to look away.

"Right, sorry" Peter smiles at Tony's laugh, waiting for him to reason with him.

After what feels like forever Tony rises, patting Bucky's knee, "Right, I've gotta go take care of... that... Ahem... Don't stay up here pouting for too long, okay?" Bucky shrugs, causing Peter to smile sympathetically at him. He turns though when Tony begins heading towards him.

'Finally,' Peter thinks as Tony presses his thin body to the wall.

The inventor kisses him, "Did you see how hard of a time you were giving Barnes? He couldn't take his eyes off you. For a reason." Peter blushes, his cheeks dark pink as he hides his face in Tony's neck. "Aww, baby's shy~"

"Shush!!" He tries to sink inside the sheer material wrapped around his body. "Can we... Can we go upstairs, please?"

Tony laughs darkly, "Why, worried he'll hear your pretty noises, princess?" No matter how much Tony expected it, the nod Peter replies with catches him off guard, "What if he wants to?"

"Will you two go away!" Bucky laughs.

Tony laughs, chasing the young scientist down the hall, "Go. Go Go!" In the elevator, Tony nearly dies laughing, pushing the button repeatedly. "I swear, both of our lives flashed before my eyes right then."

"Oh yeah?" Peter smirks, "Are you scared, sir?"

"Of what? Do you think I'm scared of Barnes? No. Not anymore. I have no reason to be. He's dating one of my best friends!" Tony smiles sliding his arm around the younger's waist before leading him out of the elevator and into their apartment.

The moment that Peter's back hits the closed door, he knows the answer to his earlier suspicions. Tony won't stop staring at him, as though trying to decide just how he wants to take the boy apart. "So," Peter finally breaks the silence, "I'm guessing you like your surprise?"

Tony laughs breathlessly, "What gave you that impression?"

"Oh, I don't know, could it be the fact that you are looking at me like you want to eat me? Maybe the way you can't stop eye-fucking me? Or maybe it's the fact that you're --" Peter grabs Tony through his skinny jeans, "hard for me right now, Mr Stark." The younger takes his glossy bottom lip between his teeth, chewing the side seductively. "Fuck..." He whispers, hoping the other doesn't catch it. Tony's cock always felt so good in his hand. Heavy, hard, perfect.

"What was that, Petey?" He presses the spiderboy's body harder against the door, causing his grip to release, and his head to fall back. "I forget how fucking needy you get for me. So wanton just from touching my hardon through my jeans? That's a new level of easy." Peter shivers, a fruitless attempt at getting some sort of friction.

"Daddy..." He whines, trying to get his attention, but failing.

"You know, I could tell you were nervous to show me this, Princess. Were you worried I wouldn't like it?" He runs his hand down the young scientist's chest, teasing his nipples through the thin bralette, "Worried that I would think you look bad?" His hand continues its journey downwards, to the band of the micromini, "Were you worried that I would cast you out?" Peter nods silently, feeling called out. "Well, I wouldn't dream of it, Peter. You look amazing! I can't get past how delectable you look right now. This skirt looks perfect on you."

"Show me?" Peter asks, offhandedly. At that moment, Tony has never been more thankful for the wall of mirrors in their room. The inventor takes Peter's hand, pulling him down the hallway. "Where are we going?"

"You asked me to show you, baby." He replies when they enter the bedroom. "And I plan to stick to my word." Tony intertwines their fingers, pressing his hand to the back of Peter's. He takes his now open palms and places them on the mirror's glass surface. Afterwards, he taps the toe of his shoe against Peter's ankle softly, causing him to spread his feet. Streaks-be-damned, because nothing looks better than Peter does right now. The young Queens boy looks amazing, head down, hands spread on the mirror, and legs far enough apart that it causes him to stick his ass out to keep his balance, the small charm that marks Tony's ownership dangles between himself and his reflection. "Now, little spider," Tony growls in his ear, "look at yourself."

Peter raises his head and catches sight of their reflection. The whimper that tears from his throat sounds wrecked, needy. "W-woah." His flushed cheeks tint pink as his chest rises and falls, clearly turned on. Peter casts his glance down to his microskirt and catches sight of the precum already smearing across his lower stomach.

"Look how fucking needy you are, baby. Already desperate for my hands on your body?"

"Yes, Mr Stark."

"Where would you like them?" He asks, "Here?" Tony places his hands on the boy's waist as he begins kissing his neck from behind, licking the chain lightly.

"Yes, Mr Stark," Peter repeats, knowing what it does to the other man. He doesn't know when, but his eyes slip shut. About the same time, his breathing speeds up, causing his heart to pound.

"A-a-ah, Peter. I want you to keep eye contact with yourself. Watch your face as I take you apart."

"Okay, Daddy."

"Such a good boy, aren't you?" Tony asks as he sinks his teeth into the side of Peter's neck, leaving a perfectly angry ring of teeth divots behind.  A shiver wracks Peter's body. "Oh, you liked that? You like when daddy sinks his teeth into your neck, marking you as his?" The boy nods, pushing his ass back into Tony's crotch. "Fuck, Peter, don't."

"Don't what, sir?" Peter feigns innocence, "Do this?" he presses back again, grinding his ass harder. "Does that turn you on?" his voice sounds mocking, as though he's trying to feel bad for him, but it's more fun to laugh, "Pity, you look so pretty like that."

"Where's that confidence coming from, Peter?" Tony asks as his fingers trace over the younger's throat, touching the bite mark he'd previously made. His other hand continues its venture down Peter's body, pressing in some places and scratching in others. At his mid-thigh, Tony stops. "These are the best part of this whole look, baby boy." He snaps the band of the fishnets against Peter's thigh, causing him to gasp.

"Mr Stark, please!" He begs, pressing again, trying to get the dom to crack. "I just need you to... Please!" His voice cracks as he begs, the comments coming out ragged.

"God, Princess, I haven't even gotten you undressed and you're already whimpering for me. May I take this off, baby?" He asks, snapping the back band of the bralette. Peter squeaks, arching towards the mirror, nodding. Tony smiles, satisfied with the response, "Off." With the single statement, Peter's scrambling to get the fabric off of his body. "Skirt too." Peter follows orders, stripping in front of the mirror, maintaining eye contact with Tony's reflection. "Fuck, baby. We may have to do the mirror thing another day."

"What's wrong, daddy? Struggling to keep your cool just because your baby stripped?" Peter smirks, grinding back. Tony's nails drag across his abdomen, leaving thin red tracks in their place. "Please, daddy."

"Please. Please what?" Tony struggles out, "What do you want? Wanna show off for me? Or do you want daddy to get you off while you watch yourself? Hm? Because after we do that, I plan to fucking rail you into the bed," He growls.

"All of it, please daddy! Whatever you want, just wanna cum for you!" He whines, all of his snarkiness melting away. "Please, I wanna be good for you! Please, please, please!"

"How's this?" Tony walks the two backwards, before sinking to the floor. "C'mon, little boy, sit down with me." Peter nods, sitting with his back to Tony's chest, leaning against him. Tony leans back against the bed, sliding his hand back between the other's legs.

"C-can you take your shirt off, daddy?" Peter murmurs, already beyond wrecked.

"What?" He asks, leaning his head over the boy's shoulder.

"C-can you take off your shirt, daddy, please?" He asks again, trying to raise his voice.

Tony chuckles, "Sure, little one." the inventor strips off the AC/DC Tee he'd been working in, smiling at how quickly Peter leans back against him.

"Like feeling you everywhere." He murmurs, nestling back against Tony's scarred chest. Tony smiles, kissing his neck and shoulder. His mechanic's fingers creep along Peter's inner thigh, appreciating how he shivers, how his hips jump when Tony's fingers finally touch his dick. "Pretty baby boy. Look at yourself." Peter picks his head up off of Tony's shoulder, opening his eyes, staring at himself in the mirror just a few meters from them. "God, baby."

Tony slides his hand down the other's shaft, playing with the vein, and the underside of the tip. "Play with my nipples, daddy, please!" Peter begs, arching up when his other hand slides up to pinch at his little pink nubs. The younger whimpers helplessly, watching his cock twitch and his chest wrack with each little shiver. "Please, more!" Tony drops the boy's dick, moving his fingers down past his balls ghosting them just underneath, pressing on his perineum. He gasps, moaning.

"Can you get the lube for me, baby? Out of the drawer right there?" Peter nods wordlessly, reaching up to the drawer, whimpering at the loss of Tony's warmth. "Thank you." He murmurs, taking the bottle. "Come sit back against me, Peter. It's time I give you your rightful attention."

After a bit of scuffling and whining, Peter's got fingers back on his nipple and thighs. "Please, just... I need your fingers, daddy."

"You have them. Just not where you want them. Isn't that right, baby?" Peter nods, trying to move his hips. He attempts to work his hands downwards, hoping that at least one will end up on his hole.

"What's the jerking for, baby? Is there something you want?"

"Y-your fingers."

"Clearly but where?" Tony growls, popping open the lube and squirting some on his fingers.

"Here!" Peter grabs his wrist, dragging his lubed fingers down to his core, trying to get the point across.

"Aw, are you wanting daddy to finger you?"

"Yes, please, Mr Stark!" He begs, trying to push the fingers inside of himself.

"Alright. First things first, this" He grabs Peter's hip and pulls him back against him, "has got to stop. You may be a slut, but you /are not/ a whore. Quit. Fucking. Acting. Like. It." Tony pushes his forefinger into his asshole, causing Peter to melt against him. "What's your safeword, baby?" Tony asks, working the finger in.

"I-it's red." He gasps, pressing down onto Tony's finger, "M-More!" Tony presses a second finger to his hole, pushing it into the fluttering ring carefully. "Such a good boy for me." Peter whimpers at the praise, silently begging for a third finger. Tony grants the wish, pushing a third finger alongside the other two. "I--'m close, sir!" Peter begs, "Please, let me cum!"

"Why should I? You look so good like this."

"Please! I can't wait any longer!" he whimpers, little broken mewls slip from his mouth as precum pools at the head of his cock. "Daddy!" he gasps, trying to plead with Tony's reflection.

"Look at yourself, Baby. Watch daddy's little slut in the mirror. Watch how he falls apart, crying my name. I wanna watch you beg, princess."

"Please, daddy?" He tries, knowing good and well that it's not enough, "I'll be so good for you!"

"More."

"Please, daddy! Please! Please! Please!" Peter whimpers, jutting his hips up into the air, hoping for some sort of release. "Please, Mr Stark, it feels so good!"

"Fuck, Peter," Tony growls, biting at his neck. "Cum for me. But do not break eye contact. "

With a final broken whimper, Peter releases. "Thank you, daddy!" He presses against the man's hands, whining at the overstimulation, "Thank you, daddy."

"Don't thank me yet, princess. Now, it's time for your real present."

[crimsonshadow323]

Ghost Hunt Story Ch 1

Hey everyone! I am back with a Halloween chapter! Hope you all had a happy Halloween! Please enjoy this chapter! Please note that there are some elements that I borrowed from BBC’s Merlin. So if they seem familiar then that’s where it’s from. 

This now has an Ao3 and FFN 

You can see the previous chapter here

Gene looked at the girl with a smile, absently noticing that the girl hadn’t fawned over his looks yet, before holding out a hand. “Well it’s nice to meet you Miss Lionheart. My name is Eugene Davis. Perhaps you have heard of me?”

She must’ve what with being a part of the paranormal world. 

Ava gave him a bemused look before shaking his hand slowly. “Uh not to my knowledge no. Why are you someone important?” 

Apparently not.

She gasped quietly as a thought came to her head. “You’re not some kind of long lost prince are you? A samurai? I better not have raised a great warrior from the dead...again.” 

Now it was Gene’s turn to look bewildered. “What?”

“You’d be surprised at how many times that has happened. Once I accidently rose George Washington from his grave.” Ava shrugged helplessly. “Now that was an awkward weekend. Lovely fellow though.” 

“Rest assured, I am not some long lost prince, samurai or great warrior. Though I do want to hear the full story of you reanimating George Washington.” Gene cracked a grin before a shiver racked his frame. 

Right. He was still drenched in lake water and it was getting dark. He should probably call a taxi or something. At least that’s what Oliver would do--

Wait! Oliver! 

“Oh bugger.” Gene muttered as he realized that his bond with his twin was offline. That meant that Oliver must have either felt or saw him die. Double bugger. 

“...are you British?” Ava asked, looking mildly amused as Gene searched his pockets frantically. 

“Yeah I am.” Gene spoke offhandedly still focused on finding his phone. “You?”

“Mm... American.” She watched him search for a few more seconds before nudging him gently. “You do realize even if you find your phone --which honestly is most likely at the bottom of the lake by now-- it wouldn’t work because it was submerged for who knows how long?”

Gene paused as he realized she was right. With a sigh and a hanging head he stood up. It was rather difficult as his legs seemed to stop cooperating. Once he was finally standing he turned to Ava as she too stood up. He was rather amused to notice that he was several inches taller than her.  

“So Miss Necromancer, do you have a phone I could use or do your powers work on electronics as well?” Gene asked his lips twitching as he heard her mutter about ‘tall people’

She gave him a flat look. “That would be Cyberkinesis. And no, I don’t do that.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out an iPhone before tossing it to him. “Here.”

Gene fumbled slightly at catching it but that was only because his fingers were going stiff from the cold...or so he hoped. Muttering a quick thanks he then dialed Oliver’s number hoping that he would pick up quickly. It went straight to voicemail. Damn.  

Quickly he tried Lin’s number but it went to voicemail as well. With a huff he tried both his mother’s and father’s numbers. Each time it just went to voicemail.

“Bloody hell.” He muttered crossly, he kicked at a pebble and sent it flying into the lake. 

“No one answered?” Ava asked curiously, she gave a sympathetic wince when he just glowered in her direction. “That sucks. But we should probably get going. It’s getting late and really cold too. Wouldn’t want to get hypothermia or something.”

Gene sighed knowing that he needed to contact his family as soon as physically possible in case Oliver did something idiotic with his powers again. But Ava was right,  the more pressing matter was getting into some dry clothes before he caught hypothermia and died... again. 

Which reminded him...

“So Ava, how exactly did you bring me back to life?” Gene asked as the two walked along the path that led into town. “Did you do a ritual? Read a spell? Smack me back to life?” 

Ava blushed lightly still feeling the embarrassment of bringing him back so forcefully. “Uh...well It was kind of an accident.”

“So you said.” Gene’s tone was amused. “But it still doesn’t explain how exactly you did it.”

“Well...y’see I was taking a walk passed the lake here, and noticed that it had a death aura around it. So, being the curious idiot that I am, I decided to investigate.”

“What exactly is a ‘death aura’ if you don’t mind me asking?” Gene asked, rather fascinated. He could practically imagine Oliver demanding answers of her. 

 “Oh. A death aura is when a place or an object, or maybe even a person has come in contact or, in this case, witnessed a death recently.” Ava shrugged at the look he gave her. “It usually comes across as a heavy feeling of sorrow or anger. It usually depends on if the death was sudden  and violent-- like a murder or a car crash-- or still and peaceful-- like of old age or sickness. For some you can even see a haze or mist surrounding the place, object or person.”

“I see,” Gene mumbled as his thoughts raced upon receiving the information. “And do you see this mist?” 

“Yeah, usually. That’s what drew my eye to you. Lucky thing too otherwise I’d be here forever trying to search for you.” She gave him a quick grin before continuing her explanation. “So anyway, I saw the death aura around the lake and followed it to where you had sunk to the bottom. I pulled you up which took longer than I had anticipated. --you’re not exactly light you know.” 

“Hey! Are you calling me fat?” Gene gasped in mock outrage, stopping in his tracks. 

“Meh, if the boot fits British boy.” She snickered at his offended glare, she too had paused in her walking. “After unwrapping you from that blanket you were tangled up in, I tried to wake you up.”

“By slapping my face.” Gene’s voice was flat.

“Heh...yeah. That might not have been the brightest idea. All I know was that I wanted you to wake up and then suddenly you’re spitting up water all over yourself like some drooling baby.”

“I am not a drooling baby.”  Gene sniffed, turning away from her smirking face. 

Rolling her eyes at his dramatics she continued walking down the path, only to laugh as he squawked in outrage at being left behind. They walked in a companionable silence until Gene noticed Ava glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

“What?”

Ava ducked her head in embarrassment, her cheeks tinged pink. “It’s nothing...”

“No it’s not. What is it?” Gene asked again, giving her a curious look.

“Why do you... um... what I mean to say is...” She huffed in frustration at being unable to find the right words. “Are you a psychic?” 

“In a manner of speaking,” Gene hummed giving her a small smile. “I’m a medium.”

“Oh honey, have you looked in the mirror? I’d say a size higher with those legs of yours.” 

Gene blinked at her not quite getting what she was talking about before it clicked. “What-- no I meant a ‘medium’ as in, I see dead people.”

“Did you just quote The Sixth Sense?” Ava snorted in amusement.

“I... It wasn’t intentional.” Gene spluttered and now it was his turn for his cheeks to flush. 

“Sure it wasn’t.” Ava snickered before shrugging at his look. “Sorry sorry... please continue Mr. I see-dead-people.”

Gene rolled his eyes again before continuing his explanation and ignoring her amused laughter. “I can see ghosts and talk with them. I’m what’s called a perfect medium, that means that if or when I get possessed I am able to speak whichever language the ghost spoke in their past life.”

“Interesting. But tell me this British boy, why on earth would you want to be possessed by a ghost? That is the stupidest idea I have heard all day.” 

“It’s a thing Mediums do, I wouldn’t expect a necromancer to understand.” Gene’s tone was teasing. 

Ava blinked at that before smirking. “Fair enough.”

Gene chuckled before continuing. “In all seriousness, it’s a thing we do to help the spirits of the departed crossover into the next life. Sort of a ‘last rite’ if you will. For instance if I met a ghost of say a grandma and her biggest regret was not saying goodbye to her family then I would allow her to possess me so that she may fulfill her final wish and then pass over.”

“Oh.” Ava went quiet for a length of time mulling that over in her mind. “That’s really cool.”

“So what do you do? As a necromancer I mean.” He gave her a sideways smirk. “Y’know besides accidently reanimating founding fathers.”

Ava scowled and muttered something about how that happened only once but no one would ever let it go. “Well it depends on the people and on the situations. Like this one time there was a couple who had gotten into a car crash. It was quite sad because they had only just gotten married a week prior, the husband was alright, only a few broken bones but the wife was in critical condition.”

“So what did you do?” Gene asked, captivated by the story.

“I helped them of course, though I hadn’t planned on it. I was at the hospital visiting this old guy, Carl, that was there visiting the children --nice dude, he loved volunteering in the pediatric ward-- when we heard the reaction of the husband finding out that his new wife would probably never wake up. Carl, who knew exactly who and what I am, was moved by the husband’s grief and offered his life in exchange for the young woman’s. After making sure that Carl was absolutely sure about his offer, I went to the young man and introduced myself. Now the husband’s name was Keith and when he heard that I could potentially help his wife wake up he agreed to the terms. Once the spell was done the wife woke up and Carl passed away.”

There was silence for a bit after the end of her story, Ava lost in memories and Gene in his thoughts. They both were so preoccupied with this that they didn’t realize they had made it into town until they heard the hustle and bustle of the town’s inhabitants. 

“So what’s next for you British boy?” Ava asked curiously.

“A shower and clean clothes.” Gene said immediately, he wanted to get out of his still damp clothes as soon as he could. 

Ava snorted at that. “And then?”

“Then I have to call my brother.”

[cornholio4]

Saltinette Aftermath: Luka’s Date

Author’s note: uploading this here. This was a sequel to Saltinette by Freedom-Shamrock written with permission.

Juleka had wished things had been better as of late. Ever since Lila had returned to class; things had been sort of tense when it came to Marinette. While Lila wowed them of her stories of the celebrities that she had met; Marinette kept insisting she had to be lying but everyone started glaring at her and ignoring her.

There was an incident where she got out of the bathroom shaking out and claimed that she was almost Akumatized; Juleka had been concerned but Lila had suggested she was lying for attention and everyone was back to glaring at her.

Juleka was not so sure about alienating her (plus feeling like she wanted to comfort her after she was shaken up) and so was Rose but Alya had told her that they were just giving Marinette some space so she could mellow out. She would apologise and things would get back to normal.

She was not so sure but she knew Alya was her best friend so she must know what she was talking about.

However soon enough Marinette was growing colder to them; when she was at her parents’ bakery at the counter she would leave as soon as spotting her or their classmates. She stopped appearing in class and they were growing concerned.

She didn’t answer any of their emails or phone calls. Asking her parents at the bakery would tell them that she actually switched schools and that she didn’t want to see them. They didn’t give any other answers; not even to the persistent Alya.

Juleka had started feeling a bit guilty and bad about this; while Rose was her best friend she believed that Marinette could be her second. She was not close to her the way Alya or even Nino was; but Juleka missed their class’ everyday Ladybug as she was the one who always ended up helping others if they needed it.

She went out of her way to make sure Juleka was seen in the class photo; it was starting not to feel like distancing themselves of her jsut because of a disagreement with Lila.

Juleka could not bring herself to be as excited about Lila and her stories as before and the same as her classmates; they wanted Marinette to come back and enjoy themselves together.

But the night of her brother Luka in a music competition hosted by Jagged Stone himself was anticipated by herself and her classmates; she would be watching at home on her TV with their mum and her fingers crossed that Luka would win in front of all of France. Sure enough he did and performed with Jagged Stone himself.

She was excited and her mother was now dancing all around the houseboat in celebration. She saw Luka seen with his classmates and friends Alan, Jess and........... Marinette? She was stunned to see Marinette there looking happier than she had been in a long while.

Luka did her that he was going with his friends from his class and he did go to an art academy and being the designer that she was; Marinette would feel at home there. Still; surely Luka would have told her that she was now in his class.

But as she watched the interview Jagged had with Nadja Chamack and he offhandedly mentioned never having had a cat; there was now some doubt as the stories Lila has been telling them. Then she remembered Jagged pointing out that Marinete has designed one of his album covers and she did knew beforehand that she had done so; it then hit her....

Marinette did know Jagged so of course she may know if he had a cat or not; plus he had Fang so having him and a cat as pets would not be a good combination.

She felt like a fool after this.

In the morning when she saw Luka she went up to him, “Marinette is in your class.” She had told him; it being a statement and not a question. Luka had sighed and shook his head. “Did Marinette ask you not to say?” Juleka asked feeling sad.

“I wanted to respect her decision and she was in a bad place when she came to my class; we got her to open up. She admitted she didn’t want to see anyone from your class at the moment; she said she would kick them in the teeth if she did.” Luka told her sheepishly and Juleka felt sad at this.

It was probably an exaggeration; Marinette was not only so nice (too bad they didn’t repay her kindness by being there when she needed them too) but non violent even when she confronted Chloe.

Juleka truly didn’t believe Marinette could get violent or physical if she tried to; it was the main reason she would stop entertaining the idea of her actually being Ladybug when it popped in her head. She was certainly heroic enough to be a Superhero but she could never be a fighter.

Besides she was there with the Class when Ladybug appeared to stop Alix when she became Timebreaker.

“I have been a bad friend, haven’t I?” Juleka asked with tears in her eye and Luka held her in a hug. He did his best to comfort her and when Juleka calmed down she asked “I know Marinette doesn’t want to see any of us, but can you at least tell her that I’m sorry and that I hope she’s happy now?” Luka gave a smile and told her that he will do so.

Later she had met up with Rose who could not stop talking about seeing Marinette with her brother all over Social Media. Alya had gone to them with Mylene and Alix at her tail.

“Did you know my best friend was hanging out with your brother? Have you been hanging out with her behind our backs?” Alya had demanded and Juleka tried to tell her that she didn’t know about any of this.

“Please don’t badger Juleka like that.” Rose had told her and Alya calmed down a bit.

“Well Juleka, you think you can tell your brother to set us up to see Marinette?” Alya asked and Juleka just gave a shake of the head. “What do you mean no? I need to see my BFF more than ever and your brother is my best chance to do so!” Alya had told her with a glare but Juleka stuck to her guns.

“Marinette doesn’t want to see us, we can start being good friends to her again by respecting her decision. I will be asking Luka if you or anyone else have been hounding him about Marinette.” Juleka told her surprising even herself with how bold she was.

At the next school day everyone looked to Lila (she had been ignoring calls and emails since the finals of the competition) as she took her seat looking angry; it seemed that she was upset about the news of Marinette being seen on social media and the news; she tried to give excuses to the barrage of questions.

Finally she snapped as she shouted out “even when the stupid goody good is out of my class; you still make it about her! Do you know how annoying it is muttering about her not being here and she has to go and tell Jagged to tell me off in that stupid interview; as if I was supposed to know she actually knew him! I was starting to wonder if it was worth driving her away from all of you idiots!”

There was silence as Lila quickly realised what she had said and paled; she tried to stammer but everyone began glaring at her as her words sunk in. She was the new pariah in the class and soon enough the entire school.

When Adrien came in he was angry at everyone and took Marinette’s old seat at the back and was cold to just about everyone; even a bit angry at Nino. Juleka was angry at everyone including Lila and especially herself.

If only she had spoken up when she had suspicions.

A month and passed since the competition and the class were basically trying to get on with their lives while dealing with their own guilt (plus ignoring Lila who was blaming Marinette for her predicament and could be heard muttering how was it that she ended up losing when it looked like she had won); Alya basically kept trying to see if she could find Marinette in their usual hang out spots. When she was not doing that Alya was finding it harder to run the Ladyblog; since it seemed like Ladybug was intentionally trying to get away from her wanting to do an interview.

It was a Friday evening and she was on the couch listening to her mother looking over Luka as he was actually going out on a date. Juleka gave a smile looking at her embarrassed older brother.

Juleka decided she wanted to go out to the top and see if she could spot who it was who was going out with her brother. Her eyes widened when she spotted someone on the street waiting in fancy new clothes; someone she had not seen in person for quite a long while.

She knew she should have stayed away but she could not help herself as she walked up to where Marinette was standing. Marinette jumped and was whispering to herself that she should have asked Luka to pick her up at the bakery.

She was a bit happy to learn that it was Marinette that Luka would be going out on this date with; truth be told when she learned that Luka was getting along with Marinette she was secretly excited. She liked seeing them together and though she did help Marinette on her attempts to act on her crush on Adrien; she secretly hoped she would go after her brother.

The idea of having Marinette as a sister in law appealed to her.

Speaking up she asked hesitantly “you’re not going to kick my teeth in, are you?” Mariette managed to let out a giggle. She was still certain that Marinette would not be able to back up that threat.

“Luka told you about that, didn’t he? I know you told him to tell me that you were sorry when he told me that you figured it out where I was going to school now.” Marinette responded looking nervous with a frown.

“And I truly am, for all the good saying it will do I am sorry. Sorry for not trying to give you the benefit of the doubt and sorry for not being there for you. I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t believe me if I say I was a bit concerned and suspicious of what we were doing.” Juleka told her and Marinette had a hint of a smile that disappeared.

“I do kind of miss you all but I still don’t think I am ready to face everyone just yet, still thanks for telling me.” Marinette admitted and Juleka could not blame her.

“Everyone else misses you as well; especially Alya.” Juleka decided to let her know; she was kind of dreading how she would react if she finds out she got to speak to Marinette.

“I would never have been able to tell with all the times I had to empty my spam folder on Alya’s emails alone.” Marinette decided to joke and Juleka gave a small bit of laughter. “Plus the fact that you all asked Cat Noir himself to come talk to me.” Marinette continued but Juleka looked dumbfounded.

“What do you mean? We never asked Cat Noir anything about talking to you; we didn’t even know if he did!” Juleka told her with wide eyes; the only person she could think of who would have a chance of talking to Cat Noir would have been Alya. Or it could be possible one of their classmates did so after they were Akumatized and asked them then if they were not to shaken up.

“Well I don’t know what to tell you, that’s what the Cat told me.” Marinette told her with a shrug, “Plus thanks Juleka for respecting my wishes on not wanting to see the class at the moment.” Marinette told her and Juleka gave a smile in return.

“So no threats on what you are going to do if I don’t treat your brother right?” Marinette asked and Juleka shook her head; she never had to worry about that as far as it being Marinette that she was talking about.

Juleka gave a wave as she got back to the houseboat as Luka walked past the entrance. Juleka told her brother to have fun as she could not help but watch with her mother as Luka and Marinette went on their date hand in hand.

Now that she knew that Marinette was happy and there was a chance of reconciling with her friend; she could continue on with her life. She wanted to tell the class did but knew it would not be a good idea; it would reveal that she actually got to talk with Marinette and they would mean having to face the ire of Alya.