#i was so busy in summer with cons and i had a hard time bouncing back but i think im ready for more comms

[siins]

here're comms i did in june to september! :^D as usual, thank u so so much to all my commissioners!

i am free right now take on more! all info >>HERE<<

[donutloverxo]

Some help

Note - this is a sequel to first night but can be read as a stand alone as well. Sorry for the months of delay. These maybe my words but my dear friend lizzygal(on ao3) helped me a lot! Couldn't have done it without her.

Beautiful dividers by @firefly-graphics.

Summary - Steve recruits his brothers help in knocking you up.

Warnings - 18+ only please, dub con, so much smut, soft dark!Steve and Bucky, Bucky is Steve's half brother, mentions of period sex, mfm threesome, some analplay, breeding kink, homophobia/sexism (cause it's medieval times).

Pairing - King!Steve x reader, Steve x reader x Bucky, Bucky x reader.

Word count - 5.8k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

“Steven,” you hummed next to his ear, his name smoothly rolling off your tongue. He never gave you the permission to call him that but you were his wife and soon-to-be queen, who would dare stop you?

He quirked a brow, looking up from the book he was reading to you, his blonde hair shining so brightly in the sunlight, the blue in his eyes even more prominent. “What do you want, my love?” he asked. Touching your lower lip with his thumb, pulling it down a bit just for his own amusement.

He had suggested a picnic with you to be more romantic. As you had demanded for him to be. It was his own fault, as much as he loved taking you apart and putting you back together every single night that wouldn’t be enough for a women. His late mother had taught better.

Never hit a woman. Always protect her and provide for her. Never force yourself on your wife.

He knew better than to even look at a woman the wrong way. He was well aware of his fathers philandering ways, how he had more than a few bastards, and the bruises his mother worked so hard to covered up.

Even though his half-brother Bucky was a product of an affair, his mother took him in and treated him as her own. Bucky had saved his life more times than he could count.

Looking at your pretty face now, he knew he could never do anything to hurt you. He loved you far too much, even though he had yet to tell you that. He knew for sure that anyone who dared hurt you would die a gruesome death by his hands.

“Would you like to play a game? I’m bored of reading.” you whined, pouting your bottom lip as his thumb stroked your chin.

You had been married to the king for over two months now and things couldn’t be better. You were sure he’d be cruel towards you, what with the way he treated you on your wedding night. But... apparently that was just a part of coupling. He only ever acted like that in bed.

He refused to let you have your own room. A king and queen sharing chambers was unheard of. At first, you weren’t sure what to make of it. He had given you the excuse of wanting a son as soon as possible and that there was no way he could keep his hands off of you.

“Sure,” he closed the book keeping it aside, “What would you like to play?”

“Well, I used to play tag with my sisters. So... um... I run and you chase after me, if you’re able to catch me then I run after you,” your eyes lit up. You hadn’t had a moment to breath or have childish fun in weeks with your wifely duties, which we’re too fun to be called ‘duties', and your duties as the future queen.

He shook his head, caressing your face “Can you run? You’re so clumsy, princess, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” he teased. He had tried to teach you how to ride a horse but you seemed to have no sense of balance.

You puffed your cheeks, “I won’t.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” he laughed “What do I get if I catch you?”

“What would you like?” you blinked.

He hummed in thought, he could ask you what he really wanted. But it’d scare off a good girl like you. He’d have to train you and discipline you some more. You were still shy and inexperienced. It’d take time and he was more than willing to wait.

“I want a lot of things... but right now I’ll settle for a kiss,” he smiled.

“Just a kiss,” you giggled “deal,” you shook his hand on it before getting up and fixing your skirts.

“I’ll give some time to get far enough. It’s no fun if I catch you in a moment and win,” he smirked.

“We’ll see,” you hollered over your shoulder, already on your feet, running as fast as you could.

You ran for the woods near the palace, towards the small waterfall you loved so much.

Laughing in mirth, with the soft summer breeze in your face, you couldn’t bring yourself to care about mudding your skirts. You craned your neck to see if he was following you, sticking your tongue out to him, “You’ll never catch me.”

He frowned at that. He was running at a much slower pace, just to let you have your fun but he wasn’t about to let you get away with being so cheeky. It would set a bad precedent. Increasing his pace, he circled a hand around your waist, sweeping you off your feet and in the air, “What was that, princess?” he whispered huskily in your ear.

“Oh,” you shivered, squirming in his hold “It’s not fair! You’re a warrior, of course you’d be more athletic than me.”

“Now, don’t be a sore loser,” He pressed his lips to your cheek. “You’re only as good as your word,” he said putting you back down on your feet as you turned around to face him.

“Fine,” you grumbled, standing up on your toes and puckering your lips to kiss him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, stopping you.

“Kissing you?” you frowned.

“You promised a kiss. But we didn’t decide on where it would be.”

“Where do you want it?” you tilted your head, frowning in confusion.

He took a hold of your wrist, bringing your hand down to his crotch to make you feel his arousal. His chasing after you as if you’re his prey, had done something to him.

You gasped, “No! My king, not here.” you shook your head. You had only pleasured him with your mouth a few times, it was hard work but worth it to see make him feel good and seemed to work you up for some reason as well.

“You’re denying your king?” you shook your head again, “Get on with it before someone comes and sees us. It would be a scandal,” he rushed you, working on freeing his erection.

“I - ” you gulped. You had no other choice.

“Your grace!” you both whipped your head as you heard someone calling. “Your grace,” Peter came running through the bushes.

“What’s wrong?” Steve fixed his pants before walking towards the boy.

“We’ve just received word. The enemy has seized the fort in queens.” he heaved “and - and they’re terrorizing the villages. They killed the Lord and his family.”

Steve processed the new information. This was bad. As good as he was at fighting a war he’d never want to willingly do it. Not unless it was a last resort. It caused too much death and misery.

He had married you just to avoid one with your kingdom, hoping to make a firm, or a good enough, alliance instead. It was a blessing in disguise really.

“Alright. Get the troops ready. We’ll leave at first light. And send for Lord Barnes,” he instructed.

“My king,” he heard your trembling voice looking behind to see you so scared, hugging yourself to make yourself small, “Are you leaving as well?” you wanted to know.

“You know I have to, petal,” he replied pulling you flush against his chest. He nuzzled his nose in your hair “You have to take care of the kingdom while I’m gone.”

“But I don’t know anything.” you sniffled.

“You’re much stronger than you think,” he swayed you both to calm you, “ and on’t you worry. I’m leaving Bucky behind. He’ll guide you.”

“No,” you pulled away to look at his face “you said that he’s your sergeant. Don’t you need him?”

“I need the kingdom to be safe, too. Sweetheart, I know what I’m doing.” He said kissing your knuckles.

You twisted and turned in your bed. Missing the warmth your husband provided you with. But he had been gone for over a month. You had to post pone your coronation and your visit to your parents.

You drowned yourself in the courts activities everyday, hoping to keep your mind off of things. If anything happened to your husband, you couldn’t bear it.

You were surrounded by people everyday, who seemed kind but you had never felt so lonely. They were only kind to you because they were scared of you. They didn’t really know you.

And you didn’t know anyone there, except for James. While you had developed a friendship with him he was often busy with his duties.

You gave up on sleep. Putting a robe on to cover yourself, you made your way to James' chambers with your guards following you.

With the king being gone and you visiting his brother in the middle of the night - you knew it wouldn’t look good. You couldn’t think about that right now. You needed to speak to James. To confess your anxieties, to have him reassure you.

You didn’t bother to knock, you nudged the door open. You blinked, rubbing your eyes just to make sure you weren’t seeing things. A woman was straddling his waist, bouncing up and down on his cock, you didn’t even know women could be on top, another was... sitting... on his face? Why would she do that? Wouldn’t that suffocate him?

When she threw her head back, moaning wantonly, you understood. Your cheeks heated up as you realised what he was doing. Just like Steven uses his tongue and mouth on you...

“Oh heavens!” the one on his face gasped as the other one stopped her moments, looking at you as her jaw dropped.

“What?” James grumbled.

“It’s the queen,” she winced as they both got off of him, collecting their clothes “I’m sorry, your grace - we’re sorry,” she gave you an apologetic look. Scurrying their way out as James quickly put on his breeches.

“Your grace,” he greeted you. “What brings you here?” he grunted, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

“Who were they?” you asked. You had no idea how or why you felt so betrayed. James was his own person, he was known to be a ladies man, you should’ve expected this.

“They were whores, your grace.” His lips twitched as he suppressed a smirk at the incredulous look on your face. Steve had told him about your naiveté, how it was so adorable and how it strangely turned him on. He seemed to love having you as his wife, that was for sure.

“You’re doing this, while your brother is off fighting a war?” you scoffed.

“It was just a way to clear my mind, princess,” he retorted. “How can I help you?”

“I - ” you couldn’t even think of anything, what would you say? Why were you here anyway. “I miss, Steven,” you said, your bottom lip trembling as tears welled up in your eyes.

“Oh,” he smiled.

You truly were adorable. And while he was happy that his brother had someone who loved him so deeply, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealously. Steve had someone like you. Who loved him for who he was. Who was missing him and waiting for him to come home.

“Steve is very capable. He can take care of himself. Don’t you worry, he’ll be back before you know it,” he promised.

“We haven’t heard from him in days. What if, god forbid, something terrible had happened,” you choked on a sob, hugging yourself you thought of how miserable your life would be without him.

Not just because you’d have to take on an entire kingdom but also because you didn’t know what you would do with yourself without him. If you’d never see his face again... you couldn’t think of anything worse.

“Hey, now,” he was about to reason with you, but you wrapped your hands around his waist, burying your face in his damp chest. “He’ll be back. Have some faith,” he said.

Steve had never been good at sharing. Even as a kid he’d often be vaguely jealous. Since he was much smaller and sicklier than Bucky back then.

Bucky had to be on the receiving end of his simmering rage when he had danced with you at a soiree. It was supposed to be just an innocent dance, but you looked so beautiful, he couldn’t help himself as he flirted and joked and made you laugh.

Only to have Steve kick his ass in sparing the very next day. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. It was as if with every punch and kick he spoke 'don't touch my things.'

Who could he blame him? If he had a wife such as yourself he’d never want to share either.

If Steve were to see this, you hugging him while he was half naked and unchaperoned in his chambers in the middle of the night...

“I should go,” you murmured, looking up at him, his dark hair, much longer than your husbands, sticking to his handsome face.

“We can talk tomorrow. And don’t you worry your pretty little head,” he cupped your delicate face, swiping a thumb across your cheek, “Steve will be back.”

You nodded, walking towards the door, hoping to catch some sleep before you have to wake up for court, but then stopped abruptly.

Looking at him over your shoulder, you shouldn’t... you’re a lady, you’re the queen! You should know better but you had always been a curious girl.

“Can three people... make love at the same time? Is that possible?” your hands clutching your nightgown as if your life depended on it.

He gave you a hearty laugh, running his hand through his hair, “Not just three, many people can make love together. The most I’ve seen is... six.”

You turned to face him, “Six?!” you gasped. “Do men like doing that? Would that mean... would the king want something like this as well?”

“Yes, many men do... if you know how to treat a woman right then she would too. But you don’t have to worry about Steve. He’s never been THAT perverted.”

You hummed, and here you were thinking your husband was the most perverted man alive. “Can... two women make love together?” you had always wanted to know.

“Yes, they can. Two men can as well,” he answered.

“How would that work?” you frowned and then realised how it would, “But sodomy’s a sin!”

“Then I guess I’m going to hell,” he smirked.

“Have you been with a man?”

“Yes, I have. Do you hate me now?” he pouted.

“No,” you shook your head, “I could never hate you. I’ve always felt that was ridiculous. There is no reason for it to be unethical... right?”

“That’s right,” he nodded.

“I won’t tell anyone though. I wouldn’t want anything bad happening to you.”

“That’s kind of you, princess.”

You faked a wide smile, nodding here and there to make it look like you were listening. You had started a book club with the ladies of the court, just to get your mind off of Steven, who had now been gone for over two months.

He had stopped writing to you, only sending messages to the James and the kings guard now. He had finally defeated the enemy and was on his way home. You couldn’t think of anything else.

“Your grace,” you jerked when you heard your handmaiden whisper in your ear.

Looking over your shoulder, “What is it?”

“His majesty is here,” she grinned, visibly happy for you.

“What?” you got up, “Where is he?”

“He’s in his chambers. We tried to stop him, so he could get a proper welcome but he was much too eager to see you,” she giggled.

“Ladies,” you turned to them, trying to curb your giddiness and act as elegant as you could, “You’ll have to excuse me. Please do continue without me.”

Steve groaned as he felt his muscles loosen up in the warm water, looking around his chambers for you.

“Where is the queen?” he asked his footman. He had sent for you over an hour ago and his patience was running thin.

“I’ll look into it right away - ”

“My king?” he heard your sweet voice calling for him, “He’s not here...” the partition to the bathtub probably restricting your view of him.

He chuckled at how disappointed you were, “I’m right here, petal,” he called, getting up from the bath as his footman helped him into a robe.

His heart swelled upon finally seeing your pretty face, letting out a shaky exhale, he took you in as the servants excused themselves. He pulled you into his chest, enveloping you in a warm hug. “How’s my queen doing?”

“Lonely without you,” you mumbled, propping your chin on his bare chest so you could look up at him, “You... shaved...” you touched his smooth jaw.

He looked much younger and different without his thick masculine beard. Not as rugged as he used to, just as handsome but in a boyish way.

“Yes, I did,” he kissed your palm, “Do you like it?” he asked as you nodded. He had only done it for you. He hadn’t been able to take proper care of it when he was away and he wanted to look presentable for you. “I’m sorry you were lonely, my love. I was too, more than you could ever imagine. All I thought about was you.”

“Do you promise to never leave me for so long again?”

“I’ll never leave you. I don’t think my poor heart could bear it. You’ve turned me soft.”

“I won’t have you make fun of me!” you half-heartedly pushed at his chest.

He held onto your wrists, for someone so small and dainty you sure could do a lot of damage with your punches, “I swear I’m not making fun of you, I love you,” he confessed.

You laid your head on his beating heart so he wouldn’t see you all flustered, “Well, I love you too,” you grumbled.

You noticed the gash on his neck, “You’re hurt!” you gasped, “We should call the doctor...”

“I’ve had much worse, so don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” he smiled at you biting your lip in worry, always so adorable, pulling it away with his thumb, he bent to nip at it. “I missed the way you taste, I’ve been thinking about it for so long, it’s the only thing that got me through.”

You hummed, your face heating up as he pressed his arousal into your stomach, his hands holding onto the curve of your hips. “My king...” you shivered.

“We can talk later, right now I have to have you, I know you missed me too...” he whispered against your ear.

You felt a shudder creep up your spine as his hot breath fanned against the shell of your ear, “Maybe later, if you let me tend to you first.”

“You want to take care of me?” he beamed at you as you nodded. “Very well. But only for a few moments after that I won’t hear any more excuses and put that mouth to good use,” he said, pressing his lips to yours one more time.

There wasn’t much you knew about treating wounds, you were only doing so for your own peace of mind anyway so you simply cleaned the few scratches and gashes he had, kissing them like your mother did to your wounds when you were little, remembering how that always made you feel better.

“They’re the best kind of medicine,” he said about your kisses, “I have a cut here,” he said pointing at his lip, wanting some more of them.

“Don’t tease me!” you huffed.

You felt his muscles go stiff as you kissed him between his shoulders, now that you didn’t have to look at his face it’d be much easier for you to talk, “I heard the ladies at the court talking, they were saying if I can’t get pregnant in three months it means I never will.”

The thought of being barren and a disappointment to him terrified you to no end.

He shook his head, “You need to stop listening to gossip - ”

“But,” you interrupted him and pouted your bottom lip quivering as you recalled their harsh words when they thought you weren’t listening, “They also said that if I can’t get pregnant you’ll get a second wife,” to which he laughs, “don’t laugh at me, you always make fun of me,” you puff your cheeks.

“I’m not cleaning you up anymore,” throwing the rag on the ground, “or letting you make love to me.”

He growled at that, turning around and pinning you to the bedding, “You don’t get to decide that, love, or tell me no, when will you understand?” he scoffed as if he was scolding a child, sneaking a hand up your skirts and inside your breeches. His fingers toying with your wet lips.

“Now that I’m back we’re going to try to make a prince every night. Before you know it you’ll be swell with my child, I won’t stop then though,” he smirked, “I’ll have you whenever I want,” it’ll only be better when your body would be fuller and curvier with his heir.

“I’m never taking another wife, ever,” he said, pulling his hard cock out of his robe, pushing it into you slowly, your walls gripping him tighter than he remembered, better than his hand could ever be, “This is the best cunt I’ve ever had. There’s no way I could ever have another,” he tried to fight off his climax so he could make you come at least once before filling you up as you squirmed and whimpered under him, “... you’ve ruined me.”

This was strange. It was almost time for bed and Steve wasn’t back. Usually he’d back much sooner, so he could perform his husbandly duties. Even though you had been trying, so hard, for over a month you had gotten your menses just a few days ago.

You were so disappointed, you didn’t have the heart to tell him, but you had to when he tried to coax you in bed. Sobbing in his arms as he calmed you, “We’ll try again, we have all the time in the world,” he had said and you couldn’t believe how kind he was. Until he had his way with you anyway, even while you were bleeding.

“As if a little bit of blood if going to bother me.” While there was you purpose for it, you knew you couldn’t make a baby while on your monthly you now also knew that you could do it with your husband solely for pleasure.

“When will the king be back?” you asked your maid as she worked on helping you get ready for bed.

“I saw him on in the gardens with Lord Barnes,” she answered, helping you into your nightgown, “Shall I send him a message?”

“No, that’s alright.”

You dismissed her, sitting on the edge of your bed you worked on a scarf you had been stitching for your mother while waiting for the king. You planned on giving it to her when she would visit you for your coronation. She would be expecting some good news as well and you hoped to have that for her as well.

You perked up when you hear the doors to your chambers creak open loudly, putting away your work for now you made sure to look into the mirror one last time to look presentable.

“How was your day, petal?” he hugged you from behind, burying his nose in the crook of your neck, “You smell so good,” he hummed.

“Steven,” you giggled. “Thank you, I had a very long day with the preparations for the ball and the court.”

“Hope you’re not too tired,” his voice salacious and hoarse with desire as he cupped your breast through the thin material.

“No,” you shook your head, “Not at all. I mean... not too much,” you added so you wouldn’t seem too eager, “do you want to...”

“There’s someone joining us tonight.”

“What do you mean?” you turned to look up at him, his blue eyes, usually as blue as the sky on a summer afternoon, much darker now.

“You told me how much Bucky helped you and how much you loved him, right?”

You nodded, you hadn’t really used the word love, you were quite fond of him but didn’t know yet if you loved him.

“Hey, there, princess,” you yelped when you heard James' voice before seeing standing at the door.

“I told you to wait,” Steve gritted.

“You were taking too long,” he took a few long, lazy strides as you scrambled to put a robe on. “You wanted to know how three people can make love at once - now you can find out for yourself,” he said to you.

Your chest heaved as you swallowed a lump of air, “Steven, what? What’s going on?”

Steve cupped your cheeks in his palms, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, “My mother told me to, made me swear on her deathbed, to take care of Bucky, to look out for him and I haven’t been doing that. I’ve been selfish with you...”

“You’re always selfish with the things you like,” Bucky chided.

“But I’m working on that. I have to get better at sharing, if I have a woman as good as you, I am obligated to share.” He tried to explain as Bucky pulled you away from him, your back pressed to his front, “Bucky,” he scolded, “wait a minute, will you?”

“I’ve waiting long enough,” he licked a stripe up your neck, leaving goose bumps on the wet skin, “You’re right she does smell good.”

“I don’t understand... is this a test?”

“No, petal. Bucky’s going to help us conceive. After you give me my son you can give us both daughters. As beautiful as you. I’ve always wanted a girl,” he smiled.

“What if people find out,” you tried to swat Bucky’s hands away but he pinned them both on your back, undressing you and taking off your robe, followed by your gown.

“They won’t. Even if they do, who’s going to stop us?”

“But.... but... doesn’t James want a wife and kids of his own?”

“He has sworn his life to protect the crown. He can’t marry or have kids.”

“Do you want me to go away, princess?” he asked you, ripping your gown away as it pooled at your feet, leaving you naked in front of both of them, “Do you want me to marry another woman?”

“No...” you shook your head.

And because he had grown tired of your questions Steve kissed you, if only to shut you up. He pulled away as James threw you over his shoulder, carrying you to the bed and thrown you on the bed.

He pushed your knees apart, settling between them he traced your inner thighs.

You tried to push him away, to close your legs. The idea of being with James was tempting... but you had sworn yourself to Steven. This wasn’t supposed to be right. This is not how it’s supposed to happen... you can only be with your husband. But it was also your duty to obey him... and he wanted this to happen.

“Steve, a little help here,” Bucky groaned and looked to Steve.

He simply shook his head, climbing on the bed, he pinned your hands above your head, “I told you she was feisty. That’s alright, though. I like it when she struggles and pretends that she doesn’t enjoy it when I fuck her so hard and deep,” he looked down at you as you pleaded him with your eyes, “Till you can barely think or walk straight. She likes it, but she’d never admit it.”

You whimpered, fresh tears streaming down your face as your husband spoke such vulgar things about you...

“Oh!” you squealed, feeling James' finger prodding at your entrance before sinking into you.

“Gotta get you ready for my brother,” he cooed, soothing a hand down your hair, “Shh... it’s okay, just take it like a good girl. Don’t you want to be good for us? To please your king and give us princes and princesses?” he asked as he kept his fingers driving in and out of your heat at a leisurely pace, “Well?” he prodded further.

“Love,” you look up at Steve when you heard his gritty voice, “Bucky asked you a question. Maybe I didn’t make it clear enough but from now on you have to listen to both of us. Do whatever we tell you. We know what’s best for you.”

You nodded, your eyes misty as you felt your abdominal muscles clench, “Yes, yes I do want to have your babies,” you whimpered as James latched onto a hardened bud on your breast, you held onto Steve’s hands as the coil in your gut snapped.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed out, looking at your fucked out pussy, glistening with want, “I’m going to fuck you, just for a bit, get you stretched out and warmed up for your husband,” he declared, his cock achingly hard at just the idea of it as he rid himself of his clothes.

“Steve told me all about how you have some magical pussy, he’s addicted to it,” he lined himself up to your entrance, looking up at his brother for just a moment before looking back to your face, “now I get to find out for myself,” he moaned as he pushed his length inside you.

“Isn’t she something?” Steve said, licking away your salty tears and letting go of your wrists since you were done being a brat, “You always look so pretty when you cry,” he praised as you whined, he held your jaw and made you look down, two sexes meeting, Bucky’s cock fucking in and out of you, “Whose cock do you like better, sweetheart?” he asked you.

You shook your head, refusing to answer, closing your eyes you let yourself get lost in the feeling of James, he was stretching you out so painfully and deliciously, your mind cloudy and unable to think or even form a coherent sentence. You felt the familiar coil forming in your belly but then James abruptly.

“Damn,” he heaved, slipping his cock out of you, “I almost came.”

“What?” you blinked as Steve switched places with James, spreading yours juices around your drenched lips, heat radiating between your legs.

“You’re all warmed up nice now, petal,” he pulled his hand away, taking his cock out of his pants, “I want you on all fours,” he instructed, flipping you over.

You barely had enough strength to stay up but James helped you by pulling at your shoulders, his hard cock bumping against your nose as you winced.

“Arch you back nicely now, I want to see your ass,” he pushed at your lower back till your ass was perched up to him, smearing his pre ejaculate against you, he sank into your heat. Moving his hips brutally against you, since you were already prepared for him.

“Will you suck me off, princess?” Bucky asked but didn’t wait for your answer as he pushed his erection past your lips, shuddering as you licked the underside of his cock, “Steve taught you well,” he breathed out. Holding onto your head, driving his cock in it, you couldn’t take all of him, but you didn’t have to, this was more than enough.

Steve had loved you since the moment he met you. He didn’t know if he could call the impure thoughts he had about you love but it was the closet thing he could think of. He wouldn’t even let another man touch you, let alone use you or fuck you like only he is allowed to.

But this was different. This was Bucky. His brother and soulmate. They were basically the same person, they could share you. He loved the idea of starting a family with you both.

He flipped you so you were on your back, he kissed you, “I’m going to fill you up, sweetheart, why don’t you come with me? Can you do that for your king?” he snaked a hand between your bodies, rolling your bundle of nerves between his fingers as Bucky whispered sweet nothings to you, telling you the names he had picked out for your kids, as you clenched around him, gushing all over him.

He released inside you, coating your walls with his seed. He pulled away to look down at you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath but he stayed inside you, to make sure his seed stays in your womb.

He smiled as you weakly wrapped you hand around Bucky’s cock, stroking him till he released all over you, white spend painting you pretty skin, all over your breasts and your stomach.

He finally pulled his soft cock out of you, laying beside you as Bucky pulled you on to if him.

“Give me a minute to get hard again,” he ran a hand through sticky hair.

“Take all the time you need,” Bucky smiled, nibbling your ear, playing with the mess between your legs, you tried to squirm but he kept a firm hold on you as he played with your sensitive pussy.

“Didn’t you hear? He’s going to fuck you again, we have to keep you ready, princess,” smearing some of the juices around the tight ring of your second hole as you gasped. “Maybe you’ll be able to take both of us at the same time someday, hm?”

“That’s... possible?” you asked as he pushed a finger in, it was strange and uncomfortable, yet you wanted more of it.

“Of course, you can. With proper training,” he kissed your temple as Steve climbed back on top of you both.

Nudging at your swollen cunt, you winced in pain, “Is it too much, petal? Do you want me to stop?” he wanted to know. He’d love to fill you up some more, but not at the expense of your discomfort. He had scared you enough already.

“No,” you held onto his shoulders, “I want it, please,” looking at him with shining eyes. He could never say no to you. Just as you to him.

“Whatever you say, love,” he smiled, licking your lips till you grant him access to your mouth, he prodded at you tongue.

He was slow and steady, mindful of the bruises on your body and your overworked cunt. He was close as Bucky pushed two fingers inside you and around his cock, stretching you out even more.

He was about to reprimand him, to tell him to be more patient with his delicate innocent wife, but you screamed out in beautiful agony, exploding around his cock and begging for more. From Bucky or from him, he wasn’t sure.

“Maybe we’ll get our son tonight itself.”

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be added to the taglist.

I really hoped y'all liked it🤭🤭 idk how the first part has so many notes but I love this trope so much! Like some king Steve corrupting a good sweet girl ugh🥺🥺

Comments and reblogs are really appreciated.

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

[romanceimp]

Relflections

hello, hello,

welcome to the dark side... this is my second collab with bnharem. Please, please, read through the rest of the collab list HERE. I am so grateful to be working with so many other talented writers and artists on this. Special shout out to @doinmybesthere for beta reading and for @kuso-deku whom I dedicate this piece fror giving me the Mirio brain rot...

TW: NSFW, 18++++ Villains, dub-con moments, sex, violence, YANDERE MIRIO, two crazy people, inter dimensional travel, killing, mentions of blood, dirty talk, some cum play

Around 7000 words

Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before. Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city? Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary. One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.

You flip off the television and rise from your seat on the couch. Your roommate and the object of your affection had already left for the night. Mirio would never obey that curfew, not as long as there were people he could be saving. That’s Mirio for you… always being the hero, even if he’d lost his quirk ages ago. But ever since the onslaught of new villains, and heroes turning to the darkside you’re patching him up more than normal… He returns with wounds more serious now, the scars abundant on his once smooth skin. He is becoming a reflection of the ruin and carnage that floods the streets. This is why you had come up with, planned out, and prepared for a way to fix everything. You could never stop him from being a hero, it was who he was… but you can get his quirk back… 

You check your pocket one last time… it’s there, wrapped in that small blue handkerchief. You examine the strange item one last time, careful not to prick yourself with it by mistake. It’s shaped like a sewing pin, only slightly larger. One prick, that’s all it takes, one prick and it will absorb the power from the first thing that it touches. Then one more prick, and the next thing it touches will absorb the gathered power. One chance, that’s all you have. 

You grip the chain around your neck and pull the locket out from inside your shirt. You read the engraving on the back, as you always do, and you smile. 

Come back to me ~ Mirio

It had been a gift, something to help you when you were learning how to use your quirk. The going part had always been easy, it was the returning from your travels that had been difficult. You open the locket, one side is a watch, the other a mirror. You check the time and write it down to the second on your arm in biro. 

7:43. 26 PM

You have 8 hours exactly and you fear you’ll need much more time than that. But your quirk’s limits are not forgiving in the slightest. A second longer and you’ll die. 

You take a deep breath, eyes now focussing on the mirror side of the locket. You’d returned this way ever since Mirio gave you the locket, but never once travelled forward through the mirror before. You meet your own eyes and start to feel the familiar pull, your face turning that strange shade of blue. 

Please let this work. Please, take me to Mirio. 

The gravity in the mirror builds and you can feel the surging power of your quirk. You feel yourself meet your reflection, becoming one with it for a split second before you’re absorbed to the other side of the mirror. 

You land in a darkened alley. The smell of stale beer and piss invading your senses, making your head swim even more than normal. The thickness of the summer air does nothing to help. It doesn't matter how many times you use your quirk, it always leaves you dizzy, disoriented. But that was to be expected when travelling to another dimension. Your quirk was dubbed Mirror Image, it allowed you to travel to different dimensions by looking at your own reflection. 

You check your pockets again… it’s still there. The “quirk extractor”, that’s not really what it was called but you’d forgotten the actual name of it. It had taken trying quite a few different dimensions to find something like it. It was very possible that you might never find that place again. You had to treat this like it was the only one in existence, afterall, it was the only one in this existence. But where exactly was this existence?

You blink, vision clearing and you examine the alley. It looks like a regular alley, slimy brick walls, dumpster, broken liquor bottles. A few people walk past on the main street, their laughter echoing off the alley’s walls. A lightbulb buzzes over a shut metal door. But there was no Mirio. The plan was to find a mirror Mirio, a Mirio that had never lost his quirk... extract this Mirio’s quirk and bring it back to your Mirio, the Mirio you loved. 

You had done enough dimensional travel to know that every version of the self was weirdly connected. That’s why you had travelled forward through the mirror he had given you this time. You had hoped it would bring you to another Mirio, since the mirror had never failed to take you back to him… even if you were in a strange corner of the universe. But alas, it was like travelling through any other reflection. As usual, you stand in an unknown location, trying your best to figure out where you’ve ended up. 

You kick a stray tin can in frustration as you walk towards the more populated streets. You laugh at your own stupidity. You knew the real reason you were doing this. Maybe, this act of love, retrieving his stolen quirk would change his mind. Maybe he would take back what he had said all those years ago… the words that would never stop ringing in your ears.

You’re standing on the sidewalk, trying to decide which way to go when the sound of rusty hinges snaps you from your thoughts. You turn to look back down the dim lit alley. A man with shaggy blue hair exits the building, his red eyes gleam and your heart drops. It’s hard to see but you’d know his face anywhere, he’s practically taken over your city, Shigaraki Tomura. Take a few steps to where you’re concealed by the wall of the building. He speaks to someone who is still inside the building. You angle your head to try and hear over the busy street. “They’ve just been getting in the way is all, and I need you to get them out of the way… see?” 

Why did your quirk take you to Shigaraki when you had specifically thought of Mirio? The streetlight’s shadows help to hide your shape. You peek around to see who he is talking to. Your breath hitches in your throat as you see the tall blonde exit from the building’s wall. Mirio. You watch as he leans his shoulder against the brick from which he just emerged. He looks taller, stronger, and still has his quirk… would your Mirio have looked like this if his power had never been robbed?  His grey tshirt is pulled tight around his body and his usually done hair is ungelled, almost messy, bangs hanging just above his eyes. “That’s easy, you have anything actually worth my time?” he jokes. Shigaraki looks unamused, eyes closing in annoyance.

 “Just do it, and don’t make it so messy this time… you tend to leave a trail wherever you go,” Shigaraki scolds. Mirio grins, but it’s not the same warm smile you’d grown to love, this smile is darker, more sinister. “I’ll take care of it boss, sheesh, you worry too much,” he rolls his shoulder on the wall until his back is flush against the brick. He pushes off of it and heads towards the end of the alley. You panic as he heads your way. “It’s that hotel on the corner of Roosevelt and Third,” Shigaraki screeches after Mirio who gives him a wave of his hand. “If you weren’t so useful I’d kill you,” Shigaraki adds. Mirio’s laugh bounces off of the alley walls. “You could try,” he calls as he rounds the corner, just passing you as you crouch near some bags of garbage praying he doesn’t notice you. But he passes you, languidly walking towards the destination he was just given by Shigaraki Tomura. That’s when it hits you… by going through Mirio’s mirror, you have found yourself a mirror Mirio. An exact opposite to the man you know.  

The thoughts are swirling around in your head but there’s no time to sort through them… you have to follow him. You slowly rise from your hiding place and melt into the crowds of people. It’s lucky that Mirio is so tall, it makes him easy to follow from a safe distance away. The crowded main streets turn to less populated side streets and you have to maneuver accordingly to stay well hidden. Mirio approaches a building with a neon sign that spells out HOTEL in red letters. A glowing arrow points to the double doors at the front of the building. He hurries up the steps before slipping inside.  

You follow close behind to make sure not to lose him inside but leave a long enough gap so that it isn’t too obvious. Upon entering, you’re met with the old red carpet that should have been replaced twenty years ago. Dust clings to the fabric of the sofa and cobwebs dangle from the antique crystal chandelier. The floor is well polished however, reflecting the lights that hang from the ceiling. It’s strange that there’s no clerk at the desk but a few people piddle about the lobby. A man makes eye contact with you, furrowing his brow in confusion. A woman in a short, low cut dress slips her hand below another man's belt and whispers something in his ear. No one blinks when Mirio makes a beeline down the hallway to the left. This was not an ordinary hotel. You walk calmly after Mirio and peer down the long dark corridor. There’s not sight of him but you watch the door at the end of the hall close. There. The lights in this section of the hall are off and everything seems quiet, whereas the hall to the right was lit and loud. Sounds of pleasure and partying spilling from underneath each door. You curse Mirio for walking down the more sinister path and follow begrudgingly. 

The hall is dark save one room where hysterical cries seep out. You don’t want to know what was going on and instead keep your eyes trained on the small bit of light that pours from the window inside that end door. Upon closer inspection there is a coating of condensation on the glass. This must be the pool. 

You retrieve the quirk extractor from your pocket and remove it from it’s wrapping, careful not to prick yourself.  You slowly open the door he had gone through just moments ago. You slid inside the door slowly and carefully, making more sound than you would have liked, but it can’t be helped. Any sound easily bounces off the water of the glistening blue pool. The smell of chlorine is overwhelming and you start to realise that there aren’t very many good hiding places in a place like this.... And Mirio is nowhere to be found. You grip the quirk extractor as you hear a door towards the back of the room slam shut. Another exit… your footsteps echo far more than you would like for them to as you head towards the door. 

“Gotchya.”

The voice startles you. Your grip on the quirk extractor falters, coupled with the way you jump… you watch as it slowly descends into the water, effectively pricking the pool. The ball at the end of the extractor emits a green light as it sinks to the bottom. “You idiot!” you shout before you can think better of it. Mirio steps from the wall and quirks an eyebrow up at you. “Me idiot? You’re the one following me with the stealth of one of the 3 stooges.”

He looks even more dangerous up close. A long scar descends from his chin down his neck. And while his eyes are the same colour, there’s a glint in them which your Mirio lacks. He’s faster as this version of himself, and you don’t have time to think before your back is against the cold tile wall. “So gorgeous, gonna tell me what that thing was and why you’re following me… or will I just rip the answers out of you one by one.” You’re too confused watching as he looms over you. His expression is half pleased, half irritated. You inhale to speak but the words don’t come. The smile on his face right now… it’s the expression of someone who has killed and enjoyed it. It’s never something you could have pictured to play across Mirio’s face and it jars you. A chill runs up your spine and goosebumps prickle on your arms. He’s terrifying but also so beautiful. 

One of his hands moves up to grip your throat as he growls, “I’m waiting, bitch.” You flail as his grip tightens, scratching your nails into his arm in hopes that he will let go.  “Please Mirio, I-I’m sorry.” His grip loosens suddenly but his hand stays around your neck. “What did you call me?” You cough and inhale, then meet his eyes. There is a familiar curiosity within his gaze but it’s joined by something else, that same strange glint. Is it amusement or something much more sinister? You can’t put your finger on it. “Mirio, your name is Mirio,” you murmur. A sly smile crosses his face as he moves closer to you, his hips pinning yours to the tile. “Yes, but how do you know that?” 

You stutter, trying to find the right words, a sigh haphazardly escaping your lips as the heat from his body becomes intoxicating. “You been sent to spy by the heroes?” You shake your head and try to wiggle free, but only succeed in grinding against him. A low laugh bubbles from his throat as he pins your wrists above your head with one hand and stills your hips with his other. “That’s real cute, but not gonna get you out of trouble with me…” His eyes flick down your body then back up. “Quite the opposite actually,” he teases. Your face feels warm and your eyes dart down and away. “Aww you’re so shy now, makes me wanna eat you up.” Mirio tilts your chin upwards so you’re looking at him. His eyes have softened slightly. “Just tell me,okay? I don’t wanna have to hurt ya.” There's a strange pleading in his tone, a sincerity you didn't expect. “We know each other, Mirio… well sort of,” you match the tone of his voice. A smirk breaks on his face, “are you my stalker?” You roll your eyes, he still had a sense of humour in this universe. It’s nice to know some things never change. 

“No, no we’re friends, but I know a different… you.” He blinks before his eyes narrow. He starts to speak but you continue to explain… about your quirk, the Mirio you know, and how you’d planned to steal his quirk. You show him your locket, the engraving. He still seems suspicious as he turns it over in his hands, examining it. “You’re a crafty little liar, I’ll give you that, had this made and all, but now I’ll have to pull the truth out of you, and like I said, I really didn’t want to have to do that to you.” “Wait… I can prove it, just let me use the mirror… then I’ll leave you alone.” Mirio looks you up and down again before opening the locket and holding it out for you. 

You focus on your reflection and watch as your face turns that strange blue black colour. Guilt seeps from your mind and travels down your spine as you’re pulled towards your reflection. The quirk extractor was sitting at the bottom of the pool, now carrying within it the power of chlorine… You hadn’t helped Mirio, only discovered a dark side to his existence… which wasn’t all that bad it seemed. He hadn’t harmed you at all, just threatened you slightly and even then it had seemed he was teasing and flirting more than anything. Your Mirio had never flirted with you… on purpose. The pull of the mirror became stronger and there was a strange sadness, a feeling that you would miss this version of Mirio. This version of Mirio was void of the sunshine that the original Mirio held within him at all times, but this Mirio seemed to see you. This Mirio had given you more in a few seconds than the original Mirio had in years. You shut your eyes as you began to fall into the mirror’s reflection. The original Mirio’s words that he’d said to you that day still hanging heavy in your heart. You laugh at your own pathetic nature for the second time today. You fantasies of Mirio were just that… just fantasies. In all universes. 

A hand pushes you backwards away from the mirror. The impact is so strong you stumble, but the same hand catches you and pulls you into him. You gasp for air, your head reeling from being ripped from the portal. Mirio holds you close, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just- I didn’t want you to go.” His voice is riddled with guilt, shaking slightly. You fist your hands into his shirt, gripping the fabric as you struggle to stand. “Whoa whoa, hey,” he consoles as he sinks to his knees, bringing you with him. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his lap. “I really didn’t mean to- I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m okay, I’ve just never been pulled from a portal before,” you stutter. His thumb brushes over your face temple. “You remember your name?” You state your name and he repeats it, “Y/n… I love it.” A smile plays on your features, cheeks heating once again upon hearing the compliment. “Hey, what’s 2 + 2?” 

“4,”

“Damn, well I guess you’re a math wiz.”

Your eyes flutter open and he smiles, “there she is.” You squeeze your eyes shut then open them once more in an effort to stop the room from spinning. “Are you gonna kill me now?” you drawl. Mirio pouts, “well that depends, are you still gonna steal my quirk for other me?” You laugh and roll your head away from him. “I can’t, it’s in the pool now, it’s absorbed the fucking power of chlorine.” Mirio laughs, “well whose fault is that?” You look up at him, there’s an intensity to his gaze when you meet his eyes. Your heart hammers against your chest… “yours.” You start to sit up, his arms still cling to you. “You’re the dummy who let go just ‘cuz I scared you.” You hum considering his words, “you don’t scare me Mirio.” 

His arms relax around you and you move to lay down on the tile floor. Your back relaxes against the floor and you move your arms over your head to rest your head in your hands. “You should be afraid, I’m a whole different me, sweetheart,” he remarks. He moves to lay next to you, mimicking your position. “You’re still Mirio,” you sigh, your eyes taking in the blank space of the ceiling. “You don’t know the things I’ve done, my body count, nothing.” “You’re still Mirio,” you insist. Laying like this you can hear the echo of your words bouncing off of the water. “He’s lucky, other me… to have a girl like you.” His last few words are whispered, failing to bounce around the room. They hang over you, adding weight to the atmosphere. “Ah well, the Mirio in my universe doesn’t see it that way,” you deflect. Mirio rolls to face you, his head laying in the crook of his arm. “I know we don’t know each other… not really, but it’s strange, I feel like I’ve known you forever.” You turn your head to look at him. His eyes are practically on fire now, that small glint having grown into a flame. “In a way we have, I know a version of you… what I’ve come to find is every universe has overlaps of some sort… you and the Mirio I know will share some things… memories even.” Mirio’s face lights up, “yes exactly, I feel like I’ve seen you in a dream or something…” You shrug, “it’s possible.” Mirio smiles, it’s a familiar smile, a sincere happiness that the Mirio of your universe wears often. Much different than the smiles this Mirio had even just a few moments ago. 

“Why are you a villain?” you ask him. Mirio clutches his chest in mock pain. “That hurts, sweetheart… Just because I don’t accept the truths the rule makers of our world have given me… that’s what makes me a “villain”?” You narrow your eyes, “I meant more that you’re a hitman working for Shigaraki Tomura.” He laughs, “heard that did you? Guess you were following me for longer than I’d realised.” He pauses and moves closer to you. “I have no problem getting rid of a few people who won’t contribute anything of value… most lives are a total waste, I’m merely an exterminator… getting rid of the bad to make more space for the good…” He says it so casually that it makes chills run up your spine. “So does that make you the good or the bad?” He laughs again though this time he is less amused with your question. “I’m just a sacrificial pawn, sweetheart… can’t be good to make space for it.” 

You reach out and touch his bare arm. His skin is hot against his fingertips. “You didn’t hurt me… when you thought I was lying, you can’t be bad…” He smiles, “That’s just because I see how good you are and I want to protect that… protect you.” His hand begins to mirror yours, stroking up and down your arm with light fingertips. “If you can see the good, then that makes you good.” 

His fingers grip into your arm and he pulls you closer to him. He reaches for the back of your neck when he notices the smudge of ink on his hand. He examines your arm and finds the numbers. “What’s this?” he asks. You sigh, “it’s the time I have to go…” He pulls your face closer to his, your noses almost touching. “You can’t stay?” You shake your head, “Only for 8 hours, else I’ll be torn apart by the universal pulls… I’m not really supposed to be here ya know,” you joke. Mirio’s face falls, “Can you come back?” You shrug, “I can but the time I can stay is deducted every single time I return to a universe until I can no longer visit anymore…” Mirio’s thumb rubs soft circles into the flesh of your cheek. “What should we do then?” he asks. You smile sadly before sitting up. You give him an impish smirk. “Well, there’s a pool, I say we swim.” 

You start by removing your top, slowly peeling it away and discarding it to the floor. Mirio follows, taking off his grey tshirt. His figure is chiseled, each muscle toned and defined. You start unbuttoning your trousers when you feel the heat of his chest flush against your back. “Can I?” he asks as his hands rest on your hips. You nod and he slowly pulls your pants down your legs. He helps you step out of them before throwing them towards the growing pile of clothes. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs into your skin, trailing kisses up your thighs. You grab his face with two hands and pull him to standing. “My turn,” you smirk, looping your fingers in his belt loops and pulling him towards you. You undo his pants, kissing down his chest. Savoring the taste of his skin. He groans at your touch and you feel the heat pooling low in your belly. His pants removed his stands only in grey underwear, while you remain in your bra and panties. 

You teasingly move away from him and stand on the first rung of the ladder in the deep end of the pool. You look back to where he stands, calling him to you with your gaze. He groans as he moves towards you. “I’m really holding back you know,” he growls, pressing his chest against your back, his a. “Why hold back? You can have whatever you want… Just take it, make it yours.” Mirio trails his lips up your neck, ready to suckle a mark into your skin, when you add, “if you can,” and step off the ladder into the blue water. 

As soon as the water touches your skin you’re swimming towards the other side. You hear Mirio dive in after you and know that this has all been futile. He grabs your hand and slings you gently towards the wall. He places both of his hands on either side of your body, pinning you. You wipe the water from your eyes before wrapping them around his neck. “You caught me so fast… I thought you’d chase me around more,” you provoke. He shakes the water from his hair and moves his body closer to yours. “Chasing you is a waste of fucking time right? I want to have you,” he growls. You open your mouth to say something but are silenced by his lips on yours. 

The kiss is needy, sloppy. He kisses you like he’s starving, finally being fed. His tongue draws circles around yours before sucking it into his mouth. You moan into the kiss and he responds by pulling you closer, grinding on your clothed cunt with his hardening cock. He moves to run his tongue along your bottom lip before nipping at it. You sight into the kiss, turning your head to deepen it. You pull away a wry smile on your face. Mirio’s pupils are blown, that unfamiliar glint in his eye now having a name for it, desire. 

“Miri, I want you,” his hips stutter against yours upon hearing this. “Fuck princess, I won’t be able to hold back anymore if you keep looking at me like that.” You pepper kisses to his face, tasting the chlorine on his skin. “Don’t hold back,” you whisper, “I trust you, you’re good to me, I’m yours if that’s what you really want.” His breath shakes upon hearing this and he presses his forehead to yours. “Mine? All fucking mine? Like this me?” You nod and kiss him again. This time you catch his bottom lip and suck it, pulling on it just to hear him moan. 

He helps lift you to where you’re sitting on the edge of the pool. He peels your panties down your legs before spreading them. He kisses one of your thighs before massaging the other. “So fucking perfect,” he praises, “all fucking mine.” He trails his hand and mouth up the inside of your thigh. He spreads your folds, drinking in the sight of your bare cunt. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he sighs. “I’m gonna make you forget about any other versions of me, you’re going to be all mine.” He presses a kiss to your clit, “gonna be all fucking mine, princess.” 

He drags his tongue, slow, up your slit and circles it around your clit before sucking on it gently. You stifle a whine and you can feel him smiling in pride. “That is princess, lemme hear those sweet sounds.” He does the same move again and this time you don’t hold it in. Your sounds of pleasure echo around the pool, bouncing around and finally landing back on your own ears. But you don’t hear them, as you’re too lost in the pleasure. Mirio grips the wall of the pool with one hand while the other comes up to rest on your lower abdomen. His thumb starts rubbing soft circles on your clit while his tongue circles your hole. “Tastes so fucking good,” he growls and then shoves his tongue inside. The muscle is hot, wet, and he slowly begins to add more pressure to your clit while tongue fucking you. You’re completely overcome with a mind melting pleasure as you fall back onto your elbows, your hips grinding against his face. You aren’t sure how, but you can already feel that familiar knot forming in the pit of your stomach. You’re close and Mirio seems to know as he picks up the pace. “Cum all over my face- wanna taste you-” His permission was all you needed and soon you’re clamping down around his tongue, calling broken syllables of his name. He kisses your cunt as you come down from your high. “Such a good girl for me, cumming when I say.”

He lifts himself out of the pool and removes his underwear. He’s thick, incredibly so and long. The head is red, leaking pre cum. You groan at the sight, cunt aching to be filled. You reach for him, pulling him on top of you. He kisses you, deep, passionate, with lots of tongue and teeth. You can feel his cock, thick and hard pressing into your thigh. He ruts his hips into yours, his cock sliding along your thigh. “Please,” you beg. He growls and flips you to where you’re on top and he sits pressing you to him, cock wedged between the two of you. You grind against him in anticipation. “Please Miri,” you plead. He lifts you and in one swift move, you’re impaled on his cock. 

You cry out, and it echoes back to you. The stretch is incredible, a pleasurable, dull pain that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. He carefully thrusts up into you, and you crumble, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “I don’t wanna hurt my baby,” he coos, body stilling. You shake your head, “no it feels good, y-you're just so big.” He laughs darkly, “you love the pain, don't you?” He gives another thrust to test your reaction and this time he can feel it. Your pussy dripping down his cock.He looks down, eyes blowing at the sight, “fuck baby look, I’m not even all the way inside…” You look down and moan, his cock is a little over half inside. It’s too big to fit all the way. “You cute little cunt keeps throbbing on my cock, and when she does, she drools.” He wipes up some of your combined juices with his thumb and rubs into your clit again, just as he had before. Then he starts to move. 

He starts slowly bouncing you in his lap at a gentle pace, but soon his eyes change and his thrusts become harder and faster. “I’m sorry princess, but you feel too good, I need more of you, need all of you.” Mirio fucks into you harder, his cock so big he hits every spot inside of you that makes you weak with each thrust. Your cries become louder and more desperate. His cock kissing your cervix with each thrust causes you to disintegrate in his lap. The lewd sounds of his hips smacking into your ass fills the pool. Mirio’s eyes flick down and he growls. “Look at that baby, ‘m all the way inside now, doing so good, so fucking perfect taking every inch I have to give. God you’re fucking made for me.” You sink your teeth into his neck in a desperate effort to stave off your orgasm, to savor the moment you’d waited so long for. The moment where you and Mirio Togata become one. But it feels too good, the pleasure so intense that you’re pushed over the edge again, clenching tightly around Mirio’s fat cock. “Fuck baby, do that again, milk my cock for me while I fuck you into my shape.” 

His thrusts become sloppier but he manages to continue to hit all your spots, driving his cock into you at a bruising pace. You’re shaking in his lap, body convulsing from your last orgasm as another starts to build. “Fucking hell baby, you’re so fucking perfect, and you’re mine, all fucking mine.” His hips start to stutter but his pace quickens. “I’m all yours Miri, yes, I’m yours,” you moan. He pulls your head towards him and kisses you with that same hunger as before, teeth gripping at your lower lip and him sucking on your tongue. You moan into his mouth as your orgasm washes over you, white hot. It’s too much and sends him over the edge. “That’s it, milk my cock, milk my fucking cock,” he pants, pouring his cum deep inside you. “I’m gonna get you pregnant, gonna make you mine forever,” he growls as his hot ropes of cum still paint your walls. 

Your body is shaking, the post orgasm cold mixed with your wet body has goosebumps prickling your body. He pulls his cock out and groans at the way his cum drips from your hole. He smiles, “you’re even more beautiful now that I’ve claimed you.” You smile against his skin. “I feel more beautiful,” you reply. But Mirio’s words ring in your ears. You sit up quickly but wince. “I hurt you, I’m so-” “No, that isn’t it…” You lay your head in the crook of his neck. “The longer I’m here in this dimension the weaker I become… but I’m okay, don't worry.” You nuzzle into him, trying to steal some of his warmth. He caresses your back, “I wish you could stay…” “I-I have to go back, we can’t be together forever, even though it’s all I want,” when you finally say the words you start to cry. Mirio wraps his arms around you. “You’re cold,” he says. He helps you up holding your hands, “can you stand?” You nod and he walks you back towards the shallow end of the water. He eases himself in first and then takes your hand to help you do the same. 

He cradles you to him, “but you can go back to other me, and when you make love to him, you can just think of me… we’re the same.” You look into his eyes, face pleading, “that’s just it Mirio, you aren’t the same at all… he will never love me.” Mirio’s face darkens, anger, pure anger resides in his features. “Why not?” You take a deep breath. These were the words that haunted you from the moment the other Mirio had spoken them. “He told me, I will always love you, but I will never, ever, love you like that.” You whisper this secret to him.

Mirio can see it, the weight you’ve carried in your heart. That Mirio might save people all day long, be an actual hero, but he’s the one that’s more fucked… evil. Breaking the most perfect girl he has ever known into small pieces. No, Mirio could never let such evil exist, even if that evil was technically himself. “I’m gonna kill him,” he vows as he cradles you protectively. 

Your eyes widen, and you grip onto his face. He looks at you, smiling. “Miri, do you really want to be with me forever?” He nods and kisses you, “more than anything, you’re mine now, I’ve claimed you, you belong to me.” “I belong to you,” you echo and press your forehead against his. “I think I know a way,” you inform, the grin breaking over your face. He awaits an explanation with wide eyes. “You can come back to my world with me.” Mirio narrows his eyes in confusion, “won’t that kill me? Like it kills you?” You shake your head, “no… that just has to do with the limitations of my quirk… I’ve brought someone back with me before, the only thing is… that there’s already a Mirio in my universe, which could technically throw time and space out of balance. But there’s a small window where it wouldn’t… and if you really want to kill him… then there would only be one again.” You smile and hold his face, peppering it with kisses. “You can kill him and take his place!” 

You’re met with Mirio’s grin and another sloppy kiss. “I knew I was right about you, you’re perfect.” You both climb out of the pool and dress in your clothes again. You put the locket around your neck and open it focussing on your reflection. For the first time, holding the mirror, you don’t feel the weight of the other Mirio’s words. This Mirio, now your Mirio, has filled the void that the Mirio of your universe put inside your heart. You wonder now if you’d really loved him all this time or if it was a disguised hatred and rage. You’d always found blood somewhat disturbing but now you were excited to see it. Excited to watch the man who hurt you bleed out and be destroyed by the man you loved. Excited to watch him die. 

 You grip Mirio’s hand in yours, finger interlaced. “Just don’t let go, no matter what, okay?” Mirio kisses your hand. “I won’t, swear,” he confirms. 

Your face begins to change and you feel the gravity sucking you back into your reflection, but this time, you won’t be returning to him alone and in pieces. You’ll be returning to him whole.  This time… it would be him lying in pieces on the floor. 

[geminioriginalsimagines]

Dirty Secret

Requests: “91 and 99 with Enzo from the prompt list please?”

“Y/N...please just give Enzo some time. He’ll text you when he’s ready.” Damon argued on the other line. “Don’t roll your eyes either young lady I know you did.” That’s exactly what she did. “Look he’s going through a rough patch right now and it’s not really my business to tell. He’ll tell you when he’s ready. But he did tell me to tell you he loves you very much.”

“Wait...Damon please...” She begged and covered her eyes with her hand. “Just wait a second...”

“Mhmm bye bye now.” And like that she was off the phone. Wow. Damon hung up on her. She’s really going to slap him next time she sees him. Regardless she had to grab her keys and get ready for her last day of school before summer vacation. She smoothed down her sun dress and smiled in the mirror, flipping her beautiful long hair over her shoulder and fixing the strap of her bag over her shoulder and bouncing down the stairs, out the front door and to her car.

The ride to school felt like it was a long one but in reality it was only ten minutes. This last day of school was supposed to be the best. She was going to take her last final, say goodbye to her friends and favorite teachers and then Enzo was going to bring her to dinner as a congratulations to moving up to her senior year the next coming fall. 

But he wasn’t talking to her. Yes it hurt and yes it had been a whole four days since she had saw him last. And that was only for a brief five minutes where she had to pick up her clothes she left in the Salvatore’s house when she stayed with them for the weekend. She didn’t take his absence personally but figured it could have been something to do with the both of them as a whole. 

Damon Salvatore and Stefan Salvatore were like her older brothers and they had introduced the both of them at a party they hosted for Elena and Caroline. Bonnie couldn’t make it for some odd reason and originally she was just going to hook up with Kai just because he’s insanely attractive and was staring at her the whole night from the dessert table. But then Enzo came along with the brothers and his accent melted her heart and he charmed his way into scoring her as his girlfriend. That was already a whole year ago. 

Y/N put her car in park in her parking space and grabbed her bag and keys, making her way to her only class of the day. Every body seemed so happy, there were footballs being thrown across the front lawn of the school, girls cheering and giggling, guys laughing and punching at each other. All the while Y/N climbed the stairs to the front of the school and made her way to her locker to start cleaning it out before the first bell rang. 

The main hallway was crowded, nobody really cared or knew where they were going. Until a smaller crowd cleared in front of her locker she was headed to and Enzo was standing by her locker. Nobody seemed to notice him and he looked normal. Like there was nothing wrong at all. She made her way to him and now she realized just how agitated she was with him. “Well good morning Gorgeous.” He complimented but she just stared up at him waiting for an explanation. 

There was a silence between the both of them until he spoke again. “There was no excuse for my absence Y/N. I apologize, I needed time away and...”

“Let’s not do this here. Please.” She whispered. The bell rang and kids were pushing by to get to their first class. In just a few moments they had the hallway to themselves. “I do want to talk about it-” She unlocked her locker and grabbed her textbooks to turn in. “But I have a last day to get to and an exam to take. And all of a sudden my boyfriend wants to be my boyfriend again.” 

She slammed the locker shut. Enzo gently grabbed her arm, his hands were ice cold. Instead of sparks like normal she just felt frozen on the spot. She ripped her arm away. That had never happened before. “What the hell was that Enzo?” 

He clapped his hands together, pressing the palms close and then ran one hand through his hair. “Love, look...if you’ll let me explain...”

“Enzo really...you ignored me for four whole days. I’m pretty sure your explanation can wait two hours.” She didn’t mean to sound harsh and she didn’t even think she was this upset about it until she saw him for the first time in four days. 

Now she was just expressing her disappointment. Enzo chuckled as she tried to brush by but he slapped his hand against the locker door. Y/N’s eyes widened and she jumped. He realized he may have scared her some and removed his hand from the locker, and they both noticed the dent his hand had left before. “What the hell is the matter Enzo. You’re different.” She backed away from him slowly. 

Enzo stepped toward her. “Love...there’s nothing different. I’m still me. It’s me, Enzo.” He reassured her and tried to grab for her arms again to caress her. But she remembered the cold chill he’d inflicted on her and she pulled away just before he could touch her. 

“Look, I get out in two hours. Okay? We can go right to lunch and you can explain to me what happened...if you’re acting like this because I sounded rude that’s not what I had in mind.” She tried to brush by again but this time he stepped in her way. “Enzo...”

“Y/N it’s a silly test.” 

“Enzo...it’s to help me pass so I can get to senior year. We’ve already had this discussion.” She says and Enzo huffs. “Okay look I’m not arguing so let me get to class-” 

“I’ve been going against a lot of rules dear, all to make sure I could come see you today.” He grumbled, walking at her and matching her steps as she walked backward away from him. “So many rules.” He whispered to her. 

Y/N’s back hit a locker and she peered up at Enzo who was towering over her. “W-what rules? I-”

“It’s been a rough four days Lovey and I’m not supposed to be here until I’m all better.” His hand was shaking as he reached up and placed his ice cold hand on her neck. She flinched away from his cold hand. “I can assure you I’m not better but I just had to see my girl.”

“Enzo you’re scaring me.” And just like that Enzo retracted his hand away from her neck and they just stared at each other. He looked down at his finger tips where they had just traced her carotid artery just under her perfect, smooth flesh on her neck. How satisfying it’d be to bite into...how warm the skin is and how warm the blood was that flows underneath, just into the vein. If he punctured it right, he could control that blood flow. Damon taught him that years ago. 

The thought of the warm blood trickling down his throat made his stomach twirl, his face was warm and his gums were throbbing. “Why do your eyes look like that?” Enzo looked up and realized he was seeing red. Y/N pressed herself up against the locker further. Enzo opened his mouth to say something, instead tiny daggers freed themselves from his gums and the network of patterns crawling under his eyes almost distracted her from the fact his eyes were a dark red. 

She held a hand to her mouth to keep herself from screaming and she felt like she was about to faint. Her legs buckled and Enzo caught her before she hit the ground. Her books and bag fell with several loud bangs. Her breathing was heavy, its all she heard instead of Enzo assuring her to breathe and when she looked up he was normal again. His eyes were the beautiful brown she fell in love with and his face was the smooth, perfect skin she was familiar with. And his teeth were straight and pearly white, definitely no fangs to be found. 

She was wrapped in Damon’s fuzzy blanket, sitting in front of the fireplace thinking about everything. Questioning herself, questioning her friends. But there were no tears. Not yet. The fire burned, crackling in front of her and she could feel the warmth heating up her face. That was until somebody was standing in front of her. When she looked up it was Damon. He handed her a cup of water and didn’t say much. 

He took a seat on the ottoman next to her and stared into the flames with her. “He thinks you hate him.” He said quietly. Y/N could never hate Enzo, even though she should now. “I know you don’t. But I think he needs to hear it from you.” Damon looked over and waited. For any kind of response. 

Y/N finally looked over and Damon could see the emotion on her face. It was all hitting at once. “Those people that die? That are killed? Who did that Damon.” It wasn’t even a question. “Did Enzo do that?” 

“You know Enzo hasn’t made a kill since he’s met you.” He admits quietly.

“Is that supposed to make it better Damon?!” She shouted. “None of this is okay! And you guys couldn’t even have told me sooner! I thought we were closer than that?!” Here come the water works. To her right Stefan took a seat next to her with his head low. 

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Damon fixed his jaw. “I don’t know what else to say.” 

“There’s nothing else to say. It turns out that the people who I thought were my second family...I don’t even know them.” She choked. “I don’t know any of you people.” 

Stefan sighed. “Well of course you do.” He caressed her hair. “We’re a family...”

“You all have had so many life times to change yourselves. I don’t know any of you.” She sniffled. 

Stefan pulled her close. Enzo watched from a distance with his head resting against the door frame of the parlor. Caroline and Elena joined in and watched as the brothers did their best to ease their friend’s mind. “That’s the thing Y/N. No matter how hard we try to change ourselves our old lives come flooding right back in. The Enzo you know is the Enzo we know.” Stefan whispered but the vampires watching in the distance heard it loud and clear.

“Stef, maybe we should give them privacy.” Damon stood and Stefan kissed Y/N’s forehead before leaving her alone. Or so she thought. As quickly as the brothers left Enzo appeared and took Stefan’s place. The crowd was gone and it was just the both of them left with raw emotion. 

“What happened...in those four days.” Y/N hissed. “That you had to stay away from me?” 

Enzo steepled his fingers under his chin. “I lost control.” He answered simply. “I almost killed somebody for the first time in a year and I knew if I did I wouldn’t be able to look at you ever again without my guilt eating me alive.” 

Y/N sucked in a sharp breath of air. “So vampires feel guilt?” 

“So much that we sometimes have to shut it off.” He said quietly. “It’s like a switch and when we flip it there is no more pain. No more suffering.” 

She shifted and made the first move to look over at him. “What else can you do?” 

Enzo thought for a long second and then looked over at her. She was so vulnerable, so helpless and scared. Yet so beautiful. “We can control minds. If you’re trying to get at killing, we don’t have to kill to stay alive. I’ve been using blood bags from the hospital...” 

“Have you ever wanted to...”

“No.” He answered quickly. “I have never wanted to hurt you, Y/N. Seeing you like this...” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s killing me to see you this way.” 

There was a silence. “I’d like to be alone.” She whispered and Enzo paused, and said no more and left her alone in the parlor. She cried and hugged the fuzzy blanket closer to her body and felt the fire warm her face once more.

Y/N rolled over when her alarm clock was ringing like mad in her ear and slapped the top of it to turn it off. She stared at the ceiling. Her first week into her summer break and she was feeling down. She wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and made her way to the bathroom. She stared at herself in the mirror and to be honest she felt and looked like trash. 

She hadn’t talked to any of the Salvatores, or Enzo, even Caroline and Elena or Bonnie in a whole week. The thought of Enzo being alone made her stomach turn. This wasn’t easy on the both of them and she knew that. But how could she face him when she made it clear to him he was dangerous? 

He begged her not to walk out that night. But she did. She left him and whether he cried or not afterward was on him. Or maybe he had to turn off his humanity like he explained? Did she mean enough to him for him to feel like he could? 

Y/N made her way downstairs and rummaged through her fridge. A knock on the door interrupted her and she rolled her eyes. The sun shined through the door and it was too bright for her liking. When she opened the door, Caroline stood there with a bag in her hand and a huge smile on her face. 

“I know you said you didn’t want to see any of us right now but I don’t care. A friend is still a friend and honey you need a whole makeover.” She glanced down at Y/N’s un-shaved legs and tried her best not to comment. “And um when was the last time you used your shower?” 

Y/N rolled her eyes and began to close the door. “Goodbye Caroline...” But Caroline pushed the door open and made her way through the house. “Right...” She watched the blonde put her bags down on the dining room table. “I forgot...you’re all invited in so even if I want to ignore you I can’t.” She made her way to the table where Caroline was setting up boxes. 

“What is all of this?” 

Caroline turned to her friend and was just so happy and giddy it made Y/N want to puke. “I brought my makeup kit, a uh...super good razor for those legs and I’m sure those armpits need it too, I bought you a new outfit. And Ben and Jerry’s ice cream just in case we need a good cry today I will eat this with you.” 

Y/N almost cracked a smile. “A good cry? For what?” 

Caroline giggled. “If I’m giving you a makeover and you have that attitude? Please. And if you start talking about Enzo while I’m doing so...yeah we’ll need the ice cream.” She un-packaged the ice cream pints and shoved them in the freezer. 

“Okay...what’s the occasion?” She asked while looking through the bags. 

“Puh-lease, Y/N. Anyone knows you’ve been locked away in this house for the past week thinking about Enzo. God knows he hasn’t come out of his bedroom since you walked out on him. Stefan says he won’t even take a blood bag. And that’s a new record. Trust me he’s never one to turn food down.” Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat. “So I’m going to make you smoking hot again, and you’re going to face your man. Makeup with him or make out.” She winked. 

“How are you so positive about all of this?” 

Caroline’s look became serious. “When I first turned into a vampire...it was really hard. Bonnie wouldn’t even look at me. Damon wanted to kill me and Stefan and Elena were the only ones who stood up for me. My mother found out, she couldn’t take it so we had to compel her to forget just so she would talk to me.” Y/N looked at the ground. 

“So you know what it’s like when people walk out on you because you’re different...” Y/N concluded. 

Caroline nodded. “I’m not telling you you don’t have to remember everything that’s happened since Enzo came to town or when you started putting two and two together. But Y/N you have a good man and he loves you so much. He’s still the same Enzo you fell in love with. I mean does him being a vampire really change anything in your heart at all?” The way Caroline held her hands made her feel safe and comforted. 

Y/N sighed. Caroline was right. “Make me hot again.” She grinned and Caroline responded with an eager clap of her hands. 

Y/N took it upon herself to find Damon’s hidden freezer of blood in the basement as a peace offering to Enzo. She never expected ever in her life she’d have to hold a blood bag and here she is in front of his door, waiting to knock. She smoothed her blouse out and tucked her hair behind her ear. How could this be so nerve wracking? Since she was the one who basically cut it off? 

She swallowed her heart back down and made three knocks. “Currently dying. Be with you in a jiffy.” Sounded from inside. Y/N pushed the door open and Enzo was found inside, laying on his back across his bed. His eyes were closed. “Typically that means go away...” He paused and then opened his eyes and glanced at the door. Y/N quietly closed the door behind her and waited for a greeting. Or any kind of response to her presence. 

Enzo couldn’t believe how beautiful she looked. Did she not care at all? “I came to talk.” She admitted softly. “About everything. About you, about us, about what I said.” She swallows the lump in her throat. “But you have to understand that the way I found out...” They look at each other for a split second. “Enzo I love you. Okay? I love you.”

His heart flipped in his chest only she couldn’t hear what she did to him. The corner of his mouth lifted with a half smile. “I’ve thought it over…I want to be with you still. You being a vampire doesn’t change how I feel about you.” She finally admits. His ears perk up. “I thought this only happens in shows or really bad movies...” She trails off and hides her blush and smile with her hands on her forehead. Enzo sits up and crookedly smiles at her. 

“Don’t say anything else.” He whispers and when she uncovers her face he’s in front of her. Right, she forgot they can move silently and quickly. Now she looks up at him and Enzo places both hands on her neck. His touch was warm as opposed to his ice cold skin a week ago. 

He pulls her close and locks their lips together quickly and passionately. Y/N was the first to break away and clenched Enzo’s shirt in his fists. “I’m totally going to ruin the moment.” She whispers and he searches her face with amusement. 

“You’re still weary?” He asks. Y/N’s silence confirmed his thoughts and she closed her eyes. She had gotten so lost in their kiss that she forgot everything she was upset about and everything that he was. 

“I trust you Enzo. I do but I still can’t forget everything that’s happened in town. My friends lied to me.” She reasons. He nods after listening and thinks of what to say to her next but nothing comes. She is justified to be upset with them, especially him. “Everything that I feel for you is magnified now and I want to be with you more than ever. But it’s the lying I can’t take anymore. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be friends with somebody for so long and then find out they’re not who you thought they were?” 

He nods down to her. “I understand. Listen, Love, at the time it was your best interest to keep you out. If you are exposed to this there are risks...risks that I wasn’t willing to take.” 

“And what exactly is that?” She clutches his shirt tighter. Enzo tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and cups her cheek gently. 

“Enemies flood in by the dozen, oftentimes many more.” He says. “They will stop at nothing to weaken us as a whole. And Y/N if they knew you knew about me, this, us they would harm you to hurt me.” 

Y/N could tell this was hard for him to say. And suddenly fear rose in her stomach and she felt butterflies. Enzo could hear her heart beat quicken and shook his head at her. “I won’t let that happen, Y/N you will never know harm while I am here.” He then reaches down and grabs her hand, locking their fingers together. “And I’d never hurt you myself. Your friends adore you, please as hard as it is to understand we just wanted you safe.” 

It was hard to understand. Especially for a human mind. She didn’t have the responsibility to make sure others were safe so her intentions were always simple. “I can learn to accept it.” She says. 

Enzo smiles at her and presses their foreheads together. “There is so much I want to show you and to tell you. I won’t hold back.” 

Y/N nods and closes her eyes again and melts into his chest. This was where she felt the safest. And to be honest it just felt normal again. Nothing changed the way she felt about him. “Tell me.” She says softly. Enzo wraps his other arm around her waist and carries her to his bed and wraps her in a fuzzy blanket and lays his head on his pillow at the same time she does. He tells his stories while caressing her cheek until she falls asleep, listening to his calming voice and feeling back at home in his arms where she belongs.

[hank-mcdankblade]

I Know A Bottom When I See One Princess (Part 3)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary

Chapter 1: You and Dean have been pals for as long as you can remember, practically raised together. Are things still the same as you remembered when you reconnect with him after a couple years apart? Well there is one thing you see differently and you’re about to call him out on it.

Chapter 2:  After you flirt back with Dean you start to rethink all of your life choices. Why did you flirt back instead of making fun of him? God it would be so much easier if you were just a genderless blob. Hopefully the new supernatural case a friend of your mom’s gives you will distract you from all this romance mumbo jumbo.

Chapter 3: You and Dean both start to realize your feelings are not what you both originally anticipated them to be. If only you two could actually talk like adults instead of bantering like childish 8 year olds. The case picks up when you see a certain someone’s name over every case, a certain boomer’s name.

Chapter 4: You and Dean do some sleuthing into Chrissy’s apparent death. After learning the truth your trip to Wendy’s/Jack in the Box gets interrupted by Chief douchebag. Rick takes the three of you on a nice drive to the mountains to introduce you to his daughter.

Word Count: 5,041

Warnings: Many, Many swear, Dean being a little shit, pg-13 thoughts from a certain green eyed hunter.

  ______________________________________________________________________

      The car was quiet. You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you were the cause of it. You reminded yourself that there were a million other reasons as to why the drive was silent. Hell there were hours spent in this car with nothing but the sound of guitars and dig of the tire against the road as background noise. All you needed was each other’s company and nothing more. The rational part of your mind was scolding you to shut the hell up about it and stop worrying, pointing out multiple pieces of evidence disproving your original theory. Meanwhile your much less rational side disagreed. She was a bit of a dumb bitch, but very persuasive. It was practically her superpower to ignore all the facts and blindly believe in her opinions.

        “Hey, sorry about springing the whole relationship thing on you. Just thought it’d be easier to fly under the radar as a couple….” You clenched your hands and wrung them together. Your eyes glanced at Dean to your left, quietly gauging his reaction. 

       “Don’t apologize, it’s ok. It was quick thinking. And who knows how suspicious detective douche would’ve been if you hadn’t.” Dean only took his eyes off the road for a moment to look over at you, lying through his damn teeth.

       “True…guess Jen was right about the cops being jumpy here.” Finally, with that off your conscience you could relax into the leather seats with ease. Things were fine. You were just putting way too much thought into this flirting with Dean thing. It was just how your relationship with him was and everything was ok. 

       You were fairing much better than Dean though. Dean’s grip on the steering wheel could be described as vice-like. The insides of his fingertips could feel the stitches in the fabric of the wheel. It felt like he had cotton shoved into his head, there was only one thing consuming his thoughts. Was he really interested in having you the way you spoke of the other night? Bent over and vulnerable while you took advantage of him? Thank god that his right foot was preoccupied with the gas pedal or his entire leg would be bouncing. 

        To you his face looked stoic, and void of emotion. Dean’s eyes were painted with a foggy filter. Mentally he was miles away from the Impala. Every couple of minutes or so he would come back and hyper focus on a different part of the reality in front of him. Dean sometimes focused on the way his joints bent or how his skin felt, and other times focused on how you were too close to him and too far away at the same time. Dean’s hand was shaking, aching to have it on your leg, give you a good squeeze or anything just something to feel you and your skin on him. He wanted to feel your firm grip on him, on his legs, his hands, around his throat. He wanted so badly for your hips to be driving his into the mattress, coming up and down bouncing on his cock until he came closer and closer…

        “Ready to head in and get some info.?” Your delicate voice slowly reintroduced him to the present. Dean looked in front of him and saw a beige building that looked like it was built in the 60s and was never remodeled since. The black letters on the brick wall by the front door read, ‘Grand Mesa County Libraries Central Library.’ His body was slowly returning to its normal temperature as he stepped out of the car. 

        “Yeah, let’s do it.” Getting back on track Dean prepared himself for the first step in every hunting trip you two took, do some re-con and get info about the case. He was gonna have to put his thoughts of you on the back burner for now, which was easier said than done. Once you passed the threshold, the smell of old carpet and moth balls slapped you in the face. It was a nostalgic potent smell that reminded you of your kindergarten years and would haunt you for the rest of your life. Looking around, the place did not seem too busy. There were a few people scattered across the building casually mulling through books and movies to check out.

        “Wanna check the newspapers and I’ll look into local lore?” You two nodded to each other and went your separate ways diving deep into yellowed paper and books with broken spines. Soon enough you could no longer hear the soft thumps of Dean’s boots.

        After scanning the isles you checked out a couple books and started a nest by the computers. The first thing you knew you had to check out was the case at hand. You tapped away at the very out of date computer keyboard.

        Disappearances Grand Mesa National Forest

        There were about a thousand hits online for disappearances. The hard part would be finding information from a reliable source. The first few minutes into researching changed your posture as your spine straightened up and mind shifted into its case-mode. Everything in the world went blurry except for the books and screen in front of you.

~~~~

        ‘Newspapers…newspapers.’ Dean’s fingertips brushed over the tops of age softened newspapers. Once you spend months in different libraries you tend to pick up what their usual lay out was, so the newspapers were an easy find. Thankfully instead of having to search through the records by hand, this library had a computer to search key words in to find articles. If Dean ever went to hell, he was sure that being forced to dig through newspapers by hand would be his torture. 

        ‘Newly-Wed couple from Illinois vanished without a trace. Last seen in Grand Mesa National Forest.’

        ‘Scouts No Longer Holding Summer Camp in Grand Mesa National Forest After Four Scouts Lost to the Curse.’

        ‘The Grand Mesa Curse strikes again with the disappearance of a family of three.’

        Seeing the pictures from the crime scenes made things real. Of course Dean knew the hidden reality that the supernatural world truly was, but sometimes it was easy to forget. It was easy to forget that there was true evil in this world, that there was evil more than just a greedy billionaire or corrupt politician, but pure evil that only sought to drag as many souls to hell as possible. There were so many families that had their loved ones ripped from them without a reason, completely unknowing of the darkness that lurked so closely to them. They would be driven mad with the lack of ‘logical’ facts in their eyes, cursed to never know what really happened and given answers that felt bitter to the taste. Others had their eyes opened unwillingly, shown what was behind the curtain before they could even sputter out an answer. Dean wondered what he would’ve chosen had he been given the choice. Would he rather know what killed his mother and spent his life fearing those that hid behind human faces? Or would he rather go on with his normal apple pie life never finding closure in the death of his mother? Neither option had more pros or cons than the other. He could spend a lifetime mulling the answer over and never find one that felt fight.

        “Excuse me, are you looking for something in specific? You look a little lost…” Dean turned his attention upwards and saw a young librarian. She looked like she was probably a couple years older than him, a native here for sure.

       “Huh?” Dean blinked a few times before really processing what she said to him while he was on autopilot. “Oh, no. I’m alright but thanks.” Dean offered her a smile before going back to flipping through the stacks of old newspapers. 

        The librarian nodded before looking at what headlines he was choosing. She raised a brow as assumptions about who this mysterious man was filled her head. “Interested in the Grand Mesa Curse huh?” Now there was something useful that he needed. 

        “Uh…yeah. Somethin’ like that. Know anything about it?” Dean leaned his arms on the newspaper stand. Any info you two could get would make this whole operation go smoother. 

       The woman let out a short breath of a laugh and shook her head. “It’d be impossible to live around here and not know about it. Around this time of year nobody really goes up into those woods, and especially near the mine shafts.” She paused for a beat and then continued. “My name’s Shan by the way.” Shan looked at Dean with an eagerness in her eyes. The gesture fell on deaf ears and Dean simply smiled back at her.

       “Dean.” He held out his hand to hers, and gave her a firm shake. “Well, I’ve got all I need for now.”

       “Feel free to call me if you need anything.”

        “Will do, thanks.” What a nice lady. 

~~~~

        After collecting a handful of articles from different newspapers, Dean headed back to you ready to get down to business. You were hunched over a loud keyboard like a goblin, typing away all the notes you were compiling for future use. There were probably about 15 tabs open on one browser and 17 pages from various books that had been dog eared. From the looks of it, Dean could tell you were already on a roll. Not wanting to disturb you, he silently pulled out a chair next to you and started to flip through and score the articles he had. 

        About an hour later you two felt confident enough in your information to start piecing something together. 

       “Hey.” An unfamiliar voice interrupted your work process forcing you out of your thought bubble. When you looked up you saw what you assumed was a librarian who worked here looking right at Dean with some form of recognition lighting up her features. “Thought I’d check in to see how you were doing with the Grand Mesa Curse.” There was something in the tone of this girl’s voice that really put you off. Instinctively you tried not to reveal your true thoughts with your facial expressions. There was nothing on her, or within her, that was tripping up your Slayer signal, so she definitely was not a monster. Regardless, something was feeling weird as you looked between the two of them.

       “Pretty good actually, just getting some basic information.” The two of them chatted for a bit before the girl eventually left to actually do her job. Ok there was a possibility that you were being harsh, but this girl was interrupting your research session so regardless she’s being a bother. Human or not.

       Ok…

                Deep breath….

       You took a moment to restart yourself in a sense. She was human, and she wasn’t even at your table for too long so why were you so on edge around her?

        Next to you, Dean felt something in the air shift and looked over to you. Your eyes were still glued to the computer screen but your vibe felt different, more ridged, and that worried him. Still looking at you, Dean nudged you with his elbow.

        “Hmm?” You hummed, still focused on your research.

       “You ok? You seem…upset.” Damn him for knowing you so well. Hunting together had given him the skill to pick up on all your tells. You didn’t know whether this was a blessing or a curse.

        “What? No I’m ok.” You spared him a moment of your attention before returning to work. Dean slowly narrowed his eyes at you. The slightly higher pitched bubbly-ness in your voice was not genuine. You were lying, but he wasn’t going to press you on it in such a public place. 

        The moments drew longer and blurred together as you two eventually got back into the swing of things, but there was something that caught your attention as the hour flew by. It happened every fifteen or so minutes when you would catch a glimpse of that girl that talked to Dean. She would linger by the book stands and rearrange the books there, giving herself an excuse to look at Dean while she ‘worked.’ With each time she stalked near, her act became less and less convincing and it was starting to tick you off. You had work to do and she couldn’t take the hint with the piles of books you two had. Not to mention how little Dean seemed to pay attention to her advances. If she was a monster, she was a very poor one at that, but if she was a human then you had an idea of what she was after. Either option made you want to pull Dean’s chair closer to you, look over his shoulder to see what he was working on even though you already knew. A burning feeling started to ignite with every trip she made past your table. 

        Annoying woman aside, you two had found some important information. The history of the Grand Mesa National Forest was pretty plain. The forest was created by President Benjamin Harrison in 1892. No amount of digging brought up any supernatural affiliation. No massacres of any kind, no Native American burials, and no cults made that forest their home either. So this meant no large scale hauntings, which honestly relieved you. This narrowed the field down. Looking over articles from books and online and newspapers brought to light what was commonly known here as the “Grand Mesa Curse.” 

        It started about two decades ago when a group of college kids traveled up into the mountains for Christmas break. According to their parents they only planned on staying for a couple of days. Things took a turn for the worse when it had been three days after the kids were supposed to be home and no one heard from them. Entire search parties of police officers, family and friends, and many other volunteers combed the forest the best that they could. No bodies were found but their campsite was destroyed and barren. The press and police chalked this up to be the fault of the bears that roamed around, and the same was happening with the most recent case. Luckily this time around there was one girl who survived the attacks, Chrissy Hamilton. 

        There had been a couple cases before this particular one as well that dealt with bear attacks and missing people, but the thing that made it stand out was that the disappearances grew in number afterwards. They were all around the same time and similar location. Something that caught your eye immediately was that a girl from the group of college kids had the same last name as the sheriff you and Dean saw. 

        Lydia Sullivan, daughter of Rick Sullivan, went missing two decades ago and was never found. Her mother, Emily Sullivan, passed away soon after not being able to handle the death of her child. “Ok so if his daughter got merked, why is Sullivan Chief of Douchebags so lax with all these cases? You’d think he’d take his time.” Your tone of voice was low and gravely coming out slowly. That ass hole’s name was popping up everywhere. Rick Sullivan oversaw every single disappearance case in the Grand Mesa National Forest district since his daughter went missing. The man was seen as a determined father that wanted to keep Colorado’s kids safe. He may not have worked every case personally, but the records stated that he went over the paperwork and guided his officers. 

        “Maybe he’s luring kids into the forest? What purpose would he have to cover all of this up though if he wasn’t involved?” Dean leaned his forearm on the back of your chair to get a closer look at what you had. 

        “Doubt it, on all their suspect lists they show alibis too and his checks out. So that means that all of this is coincidental. He could be overseeing every case because he feels guilty for letting his daughter down?” 

        “Like a coping mechanism?” Dean sat back in his chair, eyes focused on a blank part of a wall as he tried to process everything. 

        You nodded. “Yeah, those things that normal people have.” You gave Dean a smirk knowing full well that both of your coping mechanisms included heavy amounts of alcohol and repression. Dean rolled his eyes at you with a smile that mirrored yours, remembering all the countless nights where you two would stay up far too late with a bottle of whiskey. Many times at the end of those nights the thoughts and pictures that kept you up at night would tumble out from your mouths. Subconsciously the space between you two would shrink, physically and emotionally. Dean could count on his left hand how many people he trusted and felt safe enough around to be vulnerable with. After all the shit you’d been through and years you’ve known each other, if he didn’t trust you he would never trust anyone. 

        “Hey, me again. Wanted to let you know that I found a couple of stragglers for the paper you two are putting together.” Jesus Christ this librarian really couldn’t see a moment when it was right in front of her could she? You had had enough of this girl’s talking. You thin string of will power snapped and opened up the lines from your direct thoughts to your mouth.

        “Why are you here?” Your eyes narrowed. Dean was taken aback. He had seen you lose your temper before, but only on those who truly deserved it. I.E. bar assholes, clowns/mimes, and religious nuts trying to convert you. This wasn’t the usual anger he was used to seeing before you knocked someone out, it was a silent subtle kind that would creep up on you if you didn’t watch for the signals. He was seeing all of them in slow motion. 

         Your jaw was clenched, no doubt thinking of biting her head off if she didn’t scamper off back to the corner she came from. What was usually a smile was replaced with a thin line that showed no welcome. But the thing that scared him the most was your eyes, cold and distant. Those eyes had never been directed him, eyes void of compassion. 

        Shan flinched just the slightest, brows pulled together not expecting such a reaction. “Uh-um, I’m here to help. It’s kind of my job.” She bit back at the end of her sentence, though her stare was not nearly as intimidating as yours. When she talked to Dean earlier she assumed that the two of you were merely classmates or just friends, but she had a bad feeling that she barked up the wrong tree. Your aura seemed dangerous, like a crazy jealous girlfriend. 

        “It’s your job to creep around the patrons and watch them from afar while you pretend to do your job?” One brow was quirked as you leaned back with your knees open and arms crossed. The attitude you were throwing was one that would rival middle schoolers and mothers looking to talk to the manager. It was very out of character for you to be petty, it always made you feel sick afterwards.

        Shan narrowed her eyes back, cheeks flushing a deep red. “Excuse me-”

        “Listen sweetheart, my boyfriend and I have a lot of work to do and you’re being a bother. So how about you get back to your real job and stop making googly eyes at my partner huh?” Your bite was sharp as a knife, cutting deep into Shan’s emotions. She took one look at Dean, who was currently preoccupied with staring at you, and quickly scampered off. You shut your eyes and opened them with only one goal in mind. The faster you knew about this case, the faster you could get the hell out of this library.

        Those thoughts that Dean were having to put on the back burner suddenly moved to the front. “So…..was she somehow endangering our hunt that you had to cover for us again?” The smug bastard was referencing what you did because of Detective Sullivan.

        “Yes. She was endangering our efficiency.” Your fingertips flipped through a book closest to you, anything to not look at Dean. In the tone of his voice you knew he was pleased. 

        Dean was more than pleased, albeit a little confused about his feelings but pleased nonetheless. He loved hearing the commanding tone of your voice, telling some other girl to back off of him. Telling that girl to back off because he was yours. A needle pricked at the back of Dean’s mind as he replayed the rollercoaster of emotions he felt. He liked that moment. He liked your tone of voice, but why? It was because of the insinuations he could make. You wanted him. You wanted him to yourself, there was a possessiveness to what you said and how you said it. It was dominant and commanding. 

        No. Dean liked it because it meant you wanted him. He was not a bottom, and he did not like that interaction because you were possessive and domineering. 

        ……

        “Mmmhhmmmm,” Dean hummed, his inflection rising up and then down. Now it was his turn to lean back into his chair. His perfect lips were pursed with a small smirk, one brow quirked with intrigue. “You sure someone wasn’t jealous of a pretty lady giving me attention?”

        “Sorry but the only pretty lady I see in this library is me,” Your voice attempted to make you seem preoccupied with cleaning up your space. Your fingers moved a lightning speed as you emailed yourself all the notes you had taken and shut down all the programs you had opened. “So I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Your facial features moved in a comical way depicting a dramatic expression of confusion, with a hand on your hip. The table was finally free of all your possessions, the last notebook was zipped up into your backpack.

        Dean had you right where he wanted you, embarrassed and caught. He knew you would dodge and change the subject as quickly as you could if confronted with a topic you didn’t like. “I’m gonna remind you of this!” He shouted to you with his hands cupped around his mouth.

        You were already speeding off to the car, desperate to run away from this conversation and what it could come to. If anyone was going to be in control of a situation, it was going to be you and you’d fight anyone and everyone for that control with your bare hands. 

        “I’ll forget it!” You yelled back at him over your shoulder, bleaching your mind of any itchy feelings you were experiencing. 

        “Constantly!” Dean yelled back, only to receive the bird from you. He laughed and tumbled after you, happy to finally have some new material to ruin your day with. 

~~~~

        After five minutes of Dean looking like the cat who got the cream, white all over his smug stupid whiskers, you arrived at a locally owned diner. If you rolled your eyes anymore you were certain that you would go blind, and yet it would still be worth it just to let Dean know that you were mildly inconvenienced by his existence. The hum of the impala came to a soft halt. With the combination of Dean teasing you and your hunger, you may have strangled someone if you didn’t get fries in you soon. 

        A bell attached to the door rang out once you two stepped foot inside. Only the waitress on staff bothered to look up from her post behind a counter, the other employees were too engrossed in just making it through another eight hour shift without losing their minds.

        “Seat yourself wherever you like, I’ll be with you in a second!” She flashed a bright smile before dipping into the back of the kitchen. You and Dean nodded before following her directions and finding the corner booth in the back, cause that’s where all the cool kids sit. And with you two sitting there, only the coolest of kids sat there. 

        Dean leaned his chin on his hand and gazed at you. “So do you wanna talk more about how you secretly have a crush on me?”

        “No.”

        “Maybe about how you were totally going to duel that hot librarian for my hand?”

        “Rot in hell.”

        “Oh! Oh! Maybe we can discuss your feelings on a certain other topic that’s definitely unrelated.”

        Your unamused eyes continued to look at him, giving him no response hoping that he’d take the FUCKING hint. “Oh yeah? And what topic would that be?”

        “Me, and my cute face.” Dean winked and did his signature blue steel look. With a loud bang you hit your head on the table, laying your arms on the table around your head limp.

        “Deaaannn, I swear to god I will strangle you until the last breath from your lung is used.”

        “So what you’re saying is that you want your hands on me? You want to touch me?” Dean leaned closer and dropped his voice as low as he could go with every word that came out of his mouth just egging you on to do something. “You wanna put your hands all over my body?” 

        You whipped your head up, eyes wild and craving revenge, and you were just about to open your mouth and verbally destroy this stupid boy’s whole career when your waitress popped herself in front of the table. 

        “Hi! I’m Audrey, and I’ll be taking care you guys tonight. Have you been here before?” She had the whole speech memorized and recited it off as she handed you both a menu. 

        “Why no we haven’t! Darling aren’t you so excited to be here?” Dean grabbed your hand across the table affectionately with a huge fake smile. The weird vibe Audrey got from this table was throwing her off but regardless she had a job to do. 

        ‘Some of us will never eat again…’ You thought to yourself, thinking of all the places you could stab Dean with a fork. 

        “Thrilled.” You stated, pointedly glaring at Dean and his boyish charm getting the best of you. Audrey smiled to herself and started to understand what was going on and dismissed her earlier thoughts. After getting you two started with drinks she left you to look over the food options. 

        “Can I guess what you’re gonna get?”

        “As long as I get serve you cyanide afterwards.” 

        Dean settled into the booth and looked off into the distance to pretend to think very hard. “You are gonna get a cheeseburger with everything on it, as rare as they serve it. Side of fries and a large lemonade because even at age 23, you’re still an 8 year old.” 

        Damnit he was right. 

        You shared Dean’s smug look, ready to dish back what you were served. “Ok fine, you’re going to get the most overloaded bacon burger in order to cash in on that heart attack you’ve been waiting for forever, but hold all the vegetables because we want this one to be a big one. Side of fries and a shitty great value coke.”

        Dean nodded slightly and clapped quietly for you. “Right you are.” A moment was spent in silence, just the two of you laughing at each other smiling like love struck idiots. Your eyes tore away first, landing on a newspaper that was from today. The headline was the real reason you decided to pick it up.

        Local Crazy Believes Creature of the Night Kills Friend

        You flipped through the pages to find the story. It was published today and showed a picture of your sole survivor, Chrissy Hamilton.

        In a sad attempt to get some attention, Chrissy Hamilton offers her break out story. 

        “It was like my friends’ voices were coming from two different directions!”

       “This thing was too fast to see…”

       Clearly this is just another example of our country’s failed mental health system…

        “I wouldn’t spend too much time reading that malarkey…” Audrey said with her eyebrows pulled together, eyes cast down as she refilled your water glasses. 

        “Do you know her?” You asked, laying the paper flat on the table for Dean to see too.

        Audrey sighed as she stood back up, water pitcher straining her left wrist. “She’s my best friend. I’m not sure what really happened up there, but the newspaper doesn’t have to ruin her reputation like this and publish a drag story.” Her jaw clenched at the mention of the newspaper.

        “Does she have any enemies at the newspaper, maybe that would want to defame her?” Dean spoke up. Audrey eyed Dean caught up in her own thoughts.

        “We’re trying to run a counter story to get the Denver Times to redact the article.” You butted in, if this girl was going to give you anything it had to seem like she wasn’t gossiping with customers but giving info to fellow truth seekers. 

        Audrey pursed her lips in thought for a moment. “No, but the police chief doesn’t seem to like her. I don’t have any evidence to back it up, but I’m pretty sure he went to the head news correspondent and told him to run the article.” As more information poured in, the two of you couldn’t seem to figure out what the hell this cop’s problem was. He seemed to do everything in his power to derail this investigation, the dude was definitely hiding something. 

        “You’re pretty sure?”

        “Yeah…they’re drinking buddies so it wouldn’t surprise me.” Audrey’s attention was pulled away when the bell at the front door rang again. “If you guys have any more questions I can answer them after my shift.” 

        You and Dean shared a look. “The same voice coming from two different directions and super fast? I think I have an idea of what we’re looking for…”

        “Can we please talk to that Hamilton lady first, I’d very much like to drag this out before I freeze my balls off…”

_______________________________________________________________________

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[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 55

~*~Sebastian~*~

I stared at her. Stunned. I'm not sure if it's how the conversation went or she wants me and whatever comes with me. Emma is so intentional. Her words carry meaning. She wants to be clear and asks for clarity. This is heaven for my overthinking brain. I’m not stuck wondering what she means nor am I afraid to ask. Because I know she'll answer. Really answer.

"I've got eight years on you, how are you the more mature one?"

"Stabilizing influence and frighteningly direct communication of my second dad."

The expression on her face and deadpanned delivery had me laughing. "I can see that. I'll be the emotionally reactive one and you can be the calming one." Then I remembered. "Although, Eli did tell a story about you laying into some guy in Hawaii at a volleyball game. Ed dumped you in the ocean. I wish there was video."

"There is. You'll have to get dad to send it to you."

Tuesday was a good day. Workout was hard and my abs were already sore, but we'd laughed a lot. Good phone call with mom. The house had come together, she was enjoying some time in the pool, and she'd picked up some piano students. My afternoon was spent in my manager, Emily's, office. Mostly she and I, but a few conference calls. I was about to be busy. The next six weeks I was more gone than home. I was excited about the work. Excited to see friends.

Admittedly, the timing wasn't the greatest, new relationship and all, but I was confident we'd figure it out. This is different. I'd like to say it was because my previous experience is whining and bitching about me being gone so long, knowing I was going to pay for the distance, and trying to front-load my leaving to make it more palatable. While all of those all true, the actual difference is I care. The emotionally unavailable hot and cold thing comes into play here. I put up a wall to block the whining and bitching, not really listening, because it's my job. Bitching at me isn’t going to change anything and I’m not going to feel guilty for doing my job. Well, I do, but it just pisses me off because I shouldn’t.  The expectation of gifts, dinners, or a vacation to make up for being gone made those a lot less fun. And I was never successful at cramming a bunch of stuff in before I left, because my work didn't start when I left. It starts weeks before. I don’t leave for filming for a month, but I’m already prepping: gym reading, watching things, research, and studying the script. I get pretty singularly focused. I don't know any other way. And when pushed I shut down. I don't respond. I brood. And I appear cold. None of this is right. Some just is. Some is my fault. Getting to where I didn't care about her (any of the previous hers) feelings and concerns with me gone was a side effect of shutting down and I regret doing that. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about her feelings. It was feeling ineffectual to do anything about it and my self-protection kicking in. Looking back, saying effectively “deal with it” was incredibly insensitive. Not proud of it.

But now, sitting here looking at my schedule I’m finding places I can find some time for us. We’ll figure it out. I can tell you what won’t happen. Emma won't whine where I block her out. She's not going to emotionally blackmail me for things, which will make me want to give. And she’ll leave me alone to prep, let me bounce things off her, or cook something to remind me to eat. I need all of those. I care how Emma's going to feel about me being gone. I care about what we’ve begun and how we'll keep in touch. I also know that while I'm away she will carry on living the life she had before she had me and be just fine.

Emma had practice tonight and a game tomorrow. It was after eight when she called. She was in a tank top and her hair was wet from her shower. I caught up on her day before leading into mine. "I have good news and bad news."

"OK." Emma drug out the word, wary of my response.

"When I get back from Canada, I've got some time to spend with you. Then I’m gone for the month of July. Fashion show, audition and meetings, comic con, then filming in Rome." Playing off last night’s conversation, I added. "I'm not expecting a bad reaction."

"Well, that's good." Her hand moved toward the screen and I chose to believe she was touching my face. "I'II miss you, but I’m excited for you. And me getting to hear about what you're doing. Living vicariously."

I'd had some time to think. I had a lot of thoughts on plans. This was the soonest.  "You get back Tuesday, doubleheader Wednesday, and I get back late Thursday. What's your weekend look like?"

"Empty. I'll come to you. You'll barely be home if you come here. I can come anytime Friday. I'll be done with work except maybe packing up my room. I can do that whenever."

"Early Friday. Thursday night." I wanted to maximize our time. "I have to do some work."

"I can amuse myself."

"Maybe the shop you liked so much will be having a sale?" I laughed at the way her eyes lit up. "July fourth weekend I'm at a fashion show. Wanna go to Paris?"

"What?" Her face moved closer to the screen. I’d surprised her.

"Not necessarily Paris, but near. The third is the show. Have you been to Paris?"

"Family spent the summer in Europe when we were thirteen. Then Pearl Jam tours. Love Paris."

"Not much more than a long weekend, but museums and I'm sure we can find some romantic Paris shit to do."

"I would love to go to Paris with you."

That was good because I'd already made reservations. "California for about two weeks then straight to Italy for at least that. Depends on how long shooting takes. Hopefully back in time to join you in Chicago. Then nothing until the end of August. Will and I had been talking about a group of us going away. We were waiting for my schedule. What do you think about a group trip and we stay a little longer or go off alone? It would be a beach somewhere."

"You going to rub sunscreen on me?"

"Um yay, part of my volleyball job. Beer bitch and sunscreen applier."

“I’m in."

"End of August is a Disney thing. Labor Day weekend is the Toronto Film Fest. Little stuff in there, nothing big. No idea past then."

She laughed, eyes wide, and moving her head in all directions "It's crazy like a tour schedule. I'm jealous. I love touring."

"I thought about Rome, but the schedule's tight. You wouldn't see me."

"I wasn't trying for an invite. I'll get some of my summer PD hours done so I won't have to worry about them. Make sure I've got time for us."

I leaned back on the couch, "That was easy."

She glared at me. "I thought you weren't expecting a bad reaction?"

I shook my head, "No, no, I wasn't. Just an observation. Thought I might have to talk you into the beach." I held it a second before smiling, "Not really. I do know it’s a lot."

"I will always go to a beach."

"You’re not allowed to play volleyball."

"Did you get the video from dad?"

"About an hour ago." I'd enjoyed it several times. "You're a feisty little thing."

Wednesday was a day of pictures and texts. After the gym, I settled in my extra room to prep. I had my laptop on the table, a stack of books on top of my script, and a huge bottle of water. I took a picture and posted it to Instagram along with one of me with a pencil between my teeth and pulling my hair.

Emma ~ How'd you get a picture of your expression during your last blow job?

Sebastian ~ Hidden camera in bedroom. You should see the other things I have. Coupling Season 1. "The Cupboard of Patrick's Love."

Emma ~ “You really don't have enough blood for both ends of your body, do you?"

Sebastian ~ Very good, Sally.

 Love that she can quote one of my favorite shows.

After lunch, Emma posted a picture of her in the middle of a group hug with her students. "I'll miss my munchkins.”  I sent a sad face emoji.

Then I fell into a hole. I got pulled into my research and reading and the next time I picked up my phone it was one a.m. I need time like this and put my phone on do not disturb. The only thing that comes through is two calls from the same number within a few minutes. Anyone important knows how to reach me. Emma knew, but she didn't. Not even when the Demonic Crickets won their game. She posted several pictures, but I got a much better one in a text. Emma with her back to the camera in her team tank, arm up flexing her bicep, and her looking over her shoulder smiling at me. The gold flecks in her eyes were sparkling and the darker ring made the green more intense.

Emma ~ Hope you're getting a lot done. Internally anyway.  XOXO

Sebastian ~ * 12 hours later * Yeah, I did. I'm hungry. Congrats on the win. Picture is beautiful.

Sebastian ~ You're beautiful

 Her thank you came while I was working out. After a shower, I fell back into my hole until it was time for therapy.

I'd been seeing Celie for a long time. Frequency varied. She had a dark brown bob, glasses, and a round face. At this point, I could read her as well as she could me. If she was looking at me over her glasses, she thought I was full of shit. No words needed. She was about ten years older than me and her style worked for me. It was a great one-sided friendship.

I took my regular spot on the blue couch, "How are you today, Celie?"

Celie smiled. She had the unconditional positive regard thing down. I say that, but she does genuinely like me. Most of the time. I can be a pain in the ass. "I've had a good day and after you I get to go home. You seem to be in a good mood. Tell what's going on with you, Seb."

I was always her last client of the day. Sometimes I needed more than an hour. "I am in a good mood. I met somebody. Last time I saw you I was going to help my parents move. I met Emma there. In a grocery store, if you can believe that."

"Sounds like you can't."

"I asked her to dinner in under fifteen minutes."

She widened her eyes in disbelief. Exactly my point. "Did you? Good for you, Seb. A complete stranger. What led you to ask her out?"

"I was all covered up and she tells me I looked like a rehab patient checking into the clinic up the road. But she was kind to me. A sketchy stranger. She didn’t know who I was until we were outside and I introduced myself. She helped me find the things on my list and we chatted." I put my hands in front of my chest, fingers splayed. "She felt good. I didn't know why, just enough that I knew I wanted to know more.”

“And what do you know now?”

I spent the next several minutes telling Celie the salient points. We’ve been doing this long enough that explaining isn’t necessary. She’ll recognize why things are important. My face hurt from smiling after I was finished talking about Emma. I stopped short of the whole conversation on Sunday.

“Besides the obvious early relationship high, how are you feeling about all this?”

“Good. Happy. Hopeful. The only concerning thing was Saturday I woke up from a night terror, panic attack. I got myself calmed down pretty quick, wrote for a while, and once Emma got up I went for a run.”

“Even with being happy, there’s been quite a bit of emotional activity. I’m pleased that you’ve only woken up once. Much better. What do you suspect triggered you?”

I took a deep breath, “Emma and I wound up in this conversation Sunday afternoon. A couple of my friends at the party had told her I wasn’t acting like I normally do with women, but more like I am with friends. This led to a conversation about my relationship issues. I’m not the same with her. She really doesn’t know that version of me. I think that’s why I had the anxiety. It was the night after the party but before the conversation. First time we’d been around my friends. I think it was not because I’m scared, but because I’m not. Like you said, there’s been a lot of emotional shit going on and I’m good. Remarkably good.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Emma is different. She’s incredibly kind and is . . . gentle. Not weak though. She’s strong.”

Celie shook her head, “When I think of gentle people it’s a combination. They can be painfully truthful, but their manner makes others able to listen. They have a compassion for others.”

“Exactly! I noticed she knew everyone. She talked to everyone and used their name. I asked and she said she looked at their nametags and you never know what someone’s day has been. That might be the first nice thing that’s happened all day. I know it’s a little thing, but it’s her. She’s like that with me. She doesn’t try to talk me out of being anxious or overthinking. She doesn’t think my insecurities are stupid. They’re all just part of me.”

“She accepts you.”

“Right. The more we got to know each other, the more we talked, I felt safe. She doesn’t do those things I usually shut down over. I don’t feel the need to protect myself. She’s very different.”  Celie was looking at me over her glasses. Uh oh. “You’re giving me the look.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Why?  I thought I was doing good. I asked out a stranger and got this amazing woman.”

“Sebastian, as quick as you are to fault yourself, you’re slow to take credit.”

“Take credit?” I didn’t know what she was talking about.

She leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees. “You think this relationship is different because of Emma. You lucked out and met an accepting, kind, gentle person.”

“Yes. No. Both. Emma is different and she makes me different.”

Celie made a loud, jarring beeping noise. This was new.

“Ok, I guess I’m wrong.”

“You are. Not completely. You’re not giving yourself enough credit. Any credit. You’ve worked very hard. You’ve read. You’ve journaled. You’ve talked. You’ve done things I’ve asked you to even if you didn’t understand or want to. I’ve seen you grow. To give responsibility for this relationship being different all to Emma is dangerous. What’s going to happen when she falls off this pedestal you’ve put her on? Is that going to be an excuse to shut down and protect yourself? Fall back on old habits.”

I could feel my eyebrows pulled down and the scowl on my face. “So you’re saying this isn’t as good as I think it is.”

“Not at all. I’m saying it’s got as much to do with you as it does her. Previously you would have never asked out a woman you met in a grocery. But that seems to be the furthest you’re going with how you’re different. I do not believe for one second that no other woman you’ve gone out with has been kind and accepting. Or would have been if you would have been able to show them you.  You used to do things to test them. You’d say or do things to see how they’d react. As we’ve talked, you weren’t being real, so you don’t know that their reactions were.”

I nodded then looked down, “I know. Pretty manipulative.”  I felt Celie’s hand on my arm and looked back up. Her face was very soft with a smile.

“Stop, Seb. You need to be proud of yourself. You are doing things differently. You have learned from your past, grown, and come a long way in accepting yourself. Warts and all. You have shown Emma who you are, even the parts you don’t like so much. She can have credit for how she’s responded to you, but you deserve the credit for being brave enough to show her in an honest and authentic way. That allowed her to respond in an equally honest and authentic way.”

I grabbed a tissue from the ever-present box on the table and wiped the wet from my face. Neither the first nor the last time I’d cry in this room.

"If you had met her even a year ago, with her exactly as she is now, this relationship would be very different."

"The wedding."

"Excuse me?"

Yeah, non sequitur. "I was supposed to go to a friend’s wedding last summer but didn't because there was a change in my shooting schedule. Emma was at the wedding. You're right. Had I met her then," I shook my head. “I wouldn't have been ready for her and now could have never happened."

Celie shrugged, "Probably not."

I sniffed and wiped my eyes, "How do I get her off this pedestal I’ve put her on?"

"You seem pretty smitten. Maybe not take her off, just lower it a little." I laughed and she went on. "What you do is own your part. You have been making choices to improve yourself. You have been making choices to go out of your comfort zone. And you have been making choices to let her know you. Emma's been making similar choices to be with you. I'm sure you know what she's come through to be where she is. It seems like you complement each other. Recognize this is both of you waking up and choosing to be with each other. Talk and negotiate what that means. Tell her what you want. And when you're not talking you listen. Listen to what she needs from you. The most important for you is to keep processing the feelings with her. She's the only one who can help those make a picture. And you need to give her the same gift. She has things she’s not so proud of and afraid for you to know about her. We all do. You will need to accept her and treat her with gentle kindness she gives you.”

I was crying again. "She told me. I told her she was different than the others. She asked if maybe I was different."

Celie snickered, "I like her."

"You would. She speaks therapy."

"I want to be very clear, Seb. She sounds wonderful and she may make you better. You sound wonderful and I bet you make her better too. That’s how it should work in a relationship. You help each other along. It takes two people with self-awareness making choices to do what it takes. You both have to choose growth, honestly, humility, vulnerability, and sacrifice. I hear you holding up your end. I’ve not heard you do this before. And while she may be the right woman, you've become the right man. Please, please, do not underestimate how much work you've put in to become the right man for another person.”

"I want to go home and cry for an hour or so."

"I wish Emma was here for you."

I shook my head with a grimace, "It's going to be ugly until I get it out."

"Yes. I think Emma would want to be there to hold you and you'd find more acceptance and comfort in that than you can imagine."

At home, I grabbed a beer, sank down in my favorite chair, and cried. I felt everything all at once but fought to untangle the threads. Sad was remnants of the past and dissipated quickly. Its friends regret and shame fought a little harder to stick around, but they were toxic and needed to go. Pride and relief were together too. Celie was right. I had worked hard. An infinite number of hours had gone into figuring myself out. There have been so many times I thought I'd be stuck forever. Sometime in the last two years that I've been without a girlfriend, all the work must have come together. In the last two years I've been filming almost nonstop. Five movies have come out. Two of which were Marvel circuses. It's like all the therapy (and the work that goes with it) knitted me back together while I was busy filming and living my life. Celie had told me to trust the process. I couldn't rush it or make changes happen before it was time. Patience. I am inherently impatient. Pride was for the work. Relief was for seeing results. Finally.

Next was happy. I’m in a good place. I'm excited about the movie I’m making. I have supportive, fun friends, and a loving family. I don't need a girlfriend to be happy, but one does bring everything together. I like having a person who is mine. Mine in the sense of us experiencing life together. The good and bad. I like that. I want that. And now I have it. The beginnings of it, anyway.

After I pulled my shit together, I wanted to talk to Emma. I wanted support. Maybe not support, but I felt raw. I wanted someone to soothe the raw nerves, to sit with me while all this new stuff integrated. I wish she was here. What I needed was a hug.

Sebastian ~ Can you talk?

I don't like that I asked. It feels insecure and I have zero reasons to feel insecure. I quickly decided to cut myself some slack.

My phone rang and I connected to FaceTime. "Hey." Her bright smile and obvious happiness to see me did wonders to soothe those raw nerves.

Emma's face went from a smile to wide-eyed concern. "Sebastian, what’s wrong? You look like you've been crying. What happened?" Before I could answer, she jumped to a correct conclusion. "You had therapy. Good, bad, or cathartic tears?"

"Mostly the last one."

Her hand went to her chest, "Ok." She picked up what I assumed was her iPad and crossed to the chair in her bedroom. I could see her pull her knees up when she put her feet on the ottoman. She rested the iPad on her knees.

"Mostly a repeat of what we talked about Sunday. Celie said I wasn't giving myself enough credit for the work I've done. My growth."

As Emma had alluded to the same thing, I expected a smile or some acknowledgment of her asking if I was different. Instead, I got, "What do you think?"

"I think I still need to work on not being so hard on myself." I smiled because that statement was me still being hard on myself. "When Celie pointed out how I've changed I could see it and was proud of myself. I can’t see it on my own yet, but I'll get there. I never thought anyone would get past my walls. It wasn't someone getting in, it was me getting out." More goddamned tears.

Emma reached out and touched the screen. "I‘m so happy for you. Proud of you too."

Her words felt like a hug. Close enough for now. "Thank you."

"I know you're a grown man, but I wish I was there. Crying alone sucks."

"Oh," I laughed a little, "the chances of us having a messy reunion are high."

"Why?"

"A lot of you and I talk today. I know me, it's gonna hit me when I see you."

"I should warn you. I have a strict policy that nobody cries alone in my presence."

I smiled at her exaggerated southern accent with the "Steel Magnolias" quote. "See ... gonna be messy."

[7-wonders]

Everything All At Once

Summary: Summers are supposed to be fun, not stressful. Whatever deity is pulling the strings in your life never got that memo, apparently.

Word Count: 3651

A/N: Sorry for how long it’s taken me to post this! Life has been crazy lately. Enjoy, and if you did I would love if you left a like, comment, or reblogged!

Read Mad Love (part one) HERE | Read Totally F***ed (part two) HERE | Read The Isle of Flightless Birds (part three) HERE | Read A Hard Day’s Night (part four) HERE | Read Pour One Out (part five) HERE | Read Where Angels Fear to Tread (part six) HERE | Read Naked & Afraid (part seven) HERE | Read Ironically Alive (part eight) HERE | Read Blame It On My Youth (part nine) HERE

The process of moving, while normally quite stressful, is made simple with magic on your side. Boxes are packed according to room in a matter of minutes, dirty floors are cleaned with a glance, and the need for a moving truck is eliminated when items can just be transmuted to your new home. Even dealing with the bigger pieces of furniture that you no longer need, such as your bed and the couch, is an easy task when your new Antichrist roommate can just snap his fingers and send them to a thrift store in need. That last act is done much to Michael’s chagrin, who presents the admittedly tempting option of dropping them on your enemies. In mere hours, your once-full apartment is now completely empty. You’d be lying, however, if you said you were going to miss it. If anything, you’ll miss the certain sentimental value that your first apartment holds within its walls, but the cons of this place (a shower that never heats up, testy thermostat, that one time there was a family of mice living under your kitchen sink, and so much more) far outweigh any pros that could convince you to stay.

Adjusting to living with Michael full-time, however, proves to be the main challenge of your move. Just redecorating your room caused his face to turn a sickly shade of white, horrified that the once-pristine black and silver color scheme has been taken over by tapestries and fairy lights. It was especially painful for him to comply with your request to remove the large pentagram on one of the walls, but you suspect he did it because he doesn’t want to make you mad. He’s already aware of just how monumental a concession of living with him was, and he would rather not push his luck. Your new living arrangement, though, is going to be the only victory you give him if you have anything to say about it.

“No school for three months, then?” Michael had asked when you were hanging clothes up in your closet. 

“Thankfully.”

“So I suppose I’ll be seeing a lot more of you since you won’t be darting in and out between classes.” His tone was all too hopeful, and you hid a smirk at the meaning that he wasn't doing a good job of hiding.

“Well yeah, when I’m not working.” You weren’t looking at him, but you knew that his jaw was clenched tightly.

“Why would you be working? You’re aware of how much money I have at my disposal; there’s no logical reason why you need to have a job.”

“How else am I going to pay you rent?” He breathed in harshly through his nose, and you buried your face is a shirt to keep from laughing.

“Excuse me? You--you don’t have to pay me rent, (Y/N), you’re my wife.”

“You’re letting me live with you, it’s the least I could do.”

“If,” Michael stopped, choosing his words carefully, “if that’s what you would like to do, then I suppose I cannot stop you.”

“Thank you!” you said cheerfully, going back to the task at hand while humming a song that had been stuck in your head.

It’s not like you’re that determined to keep paying rent now that you live with Michael. In fact, if this was any other person and not the Antichrist insisting that you don’t need to pay to live on their property, you would happily oblige. With Michael, though, things have to be made a little difficult for him. Ever since the contract negotiations during your first weekend at what you’ve come to refer to as Langdon Manor, you had remained adamant that nothing would change just because you were now bonded in unholy matrimony. For the most part, that has remained the case. It’s also just fun to see how mad you can make him before he needs to go be alone in his office, but that’s besides the point.

Nannying, although not glamorous work, pays better than any other job you’ve had. Getting to look after cute children is also a plus, and they keep you busy enough where there’s never a dull moment. The two kids that you nanny, sisters Maggie and Sarah, love going to the pool and playing make believe. They play so well together that you often find yourself just reading a book and keeping an eye on them while they decide to run a daycare or start a school. Easy work, even if the hours are sometimes less than ideal. Their parents, a doctor and a police officer, work odd hours and have a penchant for date nights on Fridays, which is often their only time off without the kids. It’s not an inconvenience to you; extra hours equal extra money, and the girls go to sleep early enough that you can just watch videos on your phone until they arrive home.

The only one who has a problem with your hours is Michael, of course. You’ve suspected since the house party three weeks ago that he’s been trying to figure out how to ask you out on another date, but obstacles have managed to shake up any plans he may have. He’s not the most subtle, asking you on every Wednesday what your plans are for Friday while trying too hard to look like he’s not invested in your answer. By this week, your third straight Friday date night shift, he’s over it. 

“But tomorrow you don’t work, right?” Michael asks from the speakerphone. Your phone is resting on the kitchen counter, the girls in the living room while you make a dinner of chicken and rice for everybody.

“Nope,” you say, leaning back to make sure the girls are still watching their movie instead of beating each other over the head. 

“We’re having a movie night tomorrow.”

The tone of finality in Michael’s voice makes you laugh. “A movie night? Michael, have you ever even seen a movie before?”

“Yes, (Y/N), I have seen a movie before.” You can almost hear how he’s rolling his eyes right now. “You can pick the movies, and I’ll worry about the snacks?”

“No. Knowing you, your snacks will be something like pickled eyeballs washed down with a tall glass of ice cold blood. I’ll be the one in charge of snacks.” You can’t resist slipping a joke in there, and Michael sighs heavily. 

“Fine. I’ll see you when you get home?”

“Yep, bye.” You hang up the phone curtly when the oven beeps, more focused on pulling the chicken out than crafting a sincere goodbye.

Turning around to put the pan down so you can slice the chicken, it’s not at all surprising to see the girls sitting at the table and staring at you. The two love to eavesdrop, especially when it comes to people talking on the phone.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Sarah asks, her blonde curls bouncing in her ponytails. 

“No, he’s not, and you shouldn’t be listening in on other people’s conversations.” It’s impossible to be serious, and a smile plays on your lips as you dish up three plates and put them on the table. 

Right as everybody starts to eat, Sarah gasps and bolts up from her chair. “I forgot Aunt Stephanie!” You look at Maggie for an answer as Sarah runs off, but the older girl just rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

“Do you have an aunt coming over? Your mom didn’t tell me anyone else was going to be here tonight,” you ask. 

“No, it’s a picture that Sarah keeps in her room, sometimes she likes to have it with her.” Sarah comes back as Maggie explains her sister’s actions, clutching a framed photograph to her chest. Setting it down next to her, you see the senior portrait of a smiling blonde girl staring back at you. Her hair is crimped in some places and straight in others, reminding you of the 90s, and she’s wearing classic goth makeup. 

“She’s pretty,” you compliment, smiling as Sarah digs in.

“She’s up in Heaven, so we never met her,” Sarah replies in that easygoing tone that all young children use to reveal information in.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you say awkwardly, not really sure how to respond.

“Dad hardly knew her, either,” Maggie retorts. “He was little when she was killed.”

“Your aunt was killed?”

Maggie nods, smirking since she knows something you don’t (ten year olds are going to be the death of you), “uh huh, she died in that school shooting, the one at Westfield High School?”

“Well, at least you get to hear some neat things about her from your family.”

The girls both nod and go back to eating their food, but you just stare down at your full plate, pushing the food around with your fork as your hands shake imperceptibly. Like a puzzle, the pieces all click together. You nanny for the Boggs family, the patriarch of which had a sister named Stephanie, who was killed in the Westfield High massacre. The massacre that was perpetrated by the unwilling sperm donor from which Michael sprung, Tate Langdon. Everybody knows about the infamous Westfield shooting in the way that everybody knows about Columbine or Sandy Hook. You just didn’t know that the family of one of the victims was now employing you.

It’s something that sticks with you long after the girls have gone to bed, and even as you drive home after their parents (the Boggs’, you remind yourself) arrive back from their date. Whether Tate was influenced by the Devil or not, he is still ultimately responsible for the choices that he made. This legacy, the dark thoughts and the murders and the horrible things, extends far beyond Michael. Tate may consider Michael to be the penultimate evil, one who he could never be associated with, but it’s true when they say that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. 

Michael’s still awake when you get home, having gotten in the habit of waiting up for you since you still lived at your old apartment and he would wait for your text to let him know you had made it safely. He’s sitting in the main living room (of which there are three), reading a book and petting your cat, who’s curled up peacefully on his lap. You toss your shoes and bag in your room before sitting down next to him, picking up your now-disgruntled cat and cuddling her to your chest.

“What are you reading?” you ask him, not able to see the cover that’s obscured by his hands.

“One of those Harry Potter books you told me to read. I must say, I am enjoying it a lot more than I thought I would.”

“Goblet of Fire, that’s a good one. I’m glad you like it.” 

Michael marks his place in the book, setting it down next to him before giving you his full attention. “How was your day at work?”

“It was...okay?” Michael frowns slightly, not pleased with that answer.

“Did something happen? Did the children finally act out with their parents gone?”

“No, it’s nothing like that, it’s just--something they said,” you trail off, picking the skin around your thumbnail instead.

“What did a ten-year-old and a six-year-old say to you that rattled you this much?”

“There’s no easy way to say this, especially when you’re looking at me with those eyes,” you mutter, looking up at him. “Their aunt, I guess, was killed in a school shooting. The Westfield High one?”

Michael looks at you seriously, your recollection of the girls’ words obviously catching him off-guard. “And that got you thinking--” “Not in a bad way or anything, you know I don’t blame you at all for Tate’s sins. It just...got me thinking, I guess.”

“About how much fate must hate us?” Michael laughs bitterly.

“Tate,” you ignore Michael’s last comment, too lost in your thoughts, “loves acting like he had nothing to do with you and that you two couldn’t be more different when, in reality, you’re more alike than he cares to admit. I mean, he shot up a goddamn high school and set his stepfather on fire years before you were born. It really should not have surprised him that he fathered the Antichrist, whether it was willingly or not.”

“I wouldn’t shoot high schoolers, that’s far too messy.”

“I know that, but what I’m trying to get at is that everything, in some sick and twisted way, all comes back to you. I can’t even go to work now without being reminded of you and the carnage that the Langdon name has wrought upon the world. The same name that I carry now too, I guess.” You laugh bitterly at your misfortune, knowing that you can never escape Michael wherever you go.

“You’re being too introspective for your own good tonight, (Y/N). You need to breathe, okay?” Michael takes your hands and forces you to focus on him, making you realize that you’re barely huffing out shaky breaths. “Like you said, you don’t blame me for Tate’s sins. While I have done bad things, they are all to serve a greater purpose. Tate--he was just a dumb kid who hated the world and wanted to kill people in an attempt to feel something.”

You stare at him, repeating Michael’s movements and taking deep breaths while trying to calm down. You’re not sure why this has freaked you out so much: maybe it’s because you’re married to the sire of this mass shooter, or it could be concerns that any future children that you may have with Michael (God forbid that ever happens) would carry a bit of that darkness in their souls.

“We’re having an impromptu movie night tonight,” Michael says suddenly.

“Why not wait until tomorrow?” Maybe it was a distraction tactic, but it certainly did its job. 

“You’re too worked up to sleep, and I worry about you being alone with these dark thoughts swirling in your mind. You need something to take your mind off of it.”

“But we don’t even have snacks.”

“Go check in the kitchen, the staff tends to overstock it with food I would never eat. I’ll pick the movie. Put on some clothes to watch a movie,” the thought of sweatpants calls your name at that, “and meet back here in ten?”

You nod, running your hands over your feverish cheeks before standing up and walking towards your room. As you throw on your favorite sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants, you can’t stop thinking about your outburst. The knowledge that you were babysitting the nieces of one of Tate’s victims shouldn’t have messed you up like it did, and maybe it’s just you being overly paranoid. Whatever the reason, you’re more than eager to find some candy and popcorn and eat enough sugar to make your thoughts go numb. 

There’s plenty of candy hidden on one of the shelves of the staff pantry, and you leave an apologetic note explaining that there was an emergency and promising to restock tomorrow. The popcorn selections are endless, and you end up popping two bags when you can’t decide. Carrying the goodies back to the living room, you see that the lights are dimmed and there’s a nest of pillows and blankets on the couch. The movie’s already cued up on the television, and you smile at the familiar music playing through the speakers.

“Sorcerer’s Stone?” you ask, sitting down next to Michael and pulling a blanket over your lap.

“I’ve never seen the movie before, and since I already finished the book I want to see which one I like better,” Michael explains sheepishly, stealing some popcorn from you and pressing ‘play’ on the remote.

It’s easy to get lost in the magic of Hogwarts, even though Michael keeps making snide comments about how he doesn’t need a wand to do more impressive magic than that. You let them slide, not too bothered about it when you constantly point out differences between the book and the movie. You both finish the first movie strong, albeit with a lack of snacks, and eagerly pop in the second to continue the marathon. 

Throughout the course of the movie, you had inched closer to each other ever so slowly. Using the excuse of forgetting to move back after stealing a snack, or having to move in order to have an equal amount of blankets, results in the most awkward move you’ve ever seen someone pull. Michael, under the guise of shifting to get more comfortable, tries to sneakily slide his arm around your shoulders. You notice the ploy almost immediately, and smirk at him when he thinks he’s pulled it off.

“Really? What teen movies have you been watching lately?”

“You knew?” Michael asks, withdrawing his arm from where it’s sitting around your shoulders.

“Michael, that’s one of the oldest tricks in the book. Of course I knew.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, cheeks bright red as he looks back at the screen.

“Just because I called you out on it doesn’t mean that I’m not fine with it.” You’re not sure where this sudden streak of bravery came from, but you’re going to take it and run with it. Grabbing his hand, you place it in the previous position of being draped over your shoulders. Leaning into Michael’s side, your head rests on his chest as your eyes go back to the movie. “This good?”

“Yeah, this is--it’s fine,” Michael’s voice comes out at a higher pitch than normal, and you bite your lip to keep from laughing.

It’s a lot more difficult to continue watching the movie as the night wears on, and you find yourself more focused on just trying to keep your eyes open than on how Harry and his friends are going to figure out what’s petrifying the students. Michael can tell that you’re on the verge of sleep, nudging you gently every time you start to nod off. “I’m up,” you’ll always reply, “just resting my eyes for a sec.” It’s amusing, and he would send you to bed were you not so adamant that you’re completely awake.

“(Y/N)?” Michael calls gently, your tired eyes flickering up to him. 

“Hmm?”

“Do you think that...well, do you think that you could ever, uh, like me?”

“I do like you, dumbass. Why else do you think I’m sitting here watching movies with you?”

“I know you like me as a friend, but I mean--could you ever see yourself thinking of me as something more?”

“Is this because of what I said earlier, about your legacy?”

“Yes and no. This is something that has been on my mind for quite some time.” You’re awake now, and you sit up and pull yourself out of his embrace.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” 

“I’d rather we discuss it now,” Michael says carefully, knowing that you’re starting to get stand-offish. “(Y/N), you’re very aware of my feelings for you and that I believe what my father has told me about the two of us. I just want to know--I deserve to know how you feel about me.”

“Do you even know how hard it was for me to trust you after you kidnapped me?” you ask, standing up and clicking the TV off. Michael stands up with you, making sure you don’t run off before he’s gotten some answers.

“I thought we were over that by now!”

“We are, but--”

“Then what’s the issue?”

“The issue is that you’ve been in love with me from the moment you first saw me, and I don’t even know if I can let myself have romantic feelings for the fucking Antichrist!” The anger in Michael’s eyes is extinguished, replaced with a crushing sadness.

“You told me that you didn’t blame me for how I was born,” he says quietly. You bite your lip, realizing you just hit him in his weak spot.

“I don’t, Michael, but you’ve also done a lot of bad things, you’re doing bad things, and you’ll continue to do bad things.”

“I would never do those bad things to you. Everything I do is to benefit the plan that my father has.”

“But what if one day his plan changes and you have to kill me?” you shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself to protect against the sudden chill in the air. “You can make all of the excuses you want, but at the end of the day you’re still the Devil’s son, murdering and plotting the end of the world.”

You should have stopped long before this, but the words just won’t stop flowing out of you now that you’ve spilled them. Michael runs his hand down his jaw, nodding slowly. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

He’s thrown you off, and you’re sure it’s obvious that he has. “What?” You’re expecting him to yell, throw things, and maybe slap you again. Instead, he’s eerily calm.

“I asked for you to be honest, and you were, so thank you.” He turns to leave, his movements stilting and robotic.

“Michael,” you reach for him, unsure of what you should do.

“Get some sleep, you’ve had a long day.” Michael smiles weakly at you, his hand resting on the door frame. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You nod dumbly, mutely, unable to do anything but watch as he leaves. Suddenly, you’re entirely too aware of how he must have felt all the times he wounded you with only his words. It’s a bitter feeling, one that replaces the lingering sweet taste of candy with sour words you had spilled so recklessly. It’s a taste that won’t go away, long after brushing your teeth and falling asleep with the taste of salty tears on your tongue.

/////////////////////////

Tag List: @sammythankyou @girlycakepops @ultragibbycentralworld @sebastianshoe @nana15774 @queencocoakimmie @lichellaw @grim-adventures58 @dandycandy75 @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @everything-is-awesomesauce @ccodyfern @jimmlangdon @omgsuperstarg @queenie435 @dextergirl12345 @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @coloursunlimited @punkysouls @kahhlo @storminmytwistedmind @1-800-bitchcraft @langdonsdemon @langdonslove @carousallie @cuddletothecake @born-on-stgeorges-day @mega-combusken @michaelsapostle @babyloutattoo89 @divinelangdon @venusxxlangdon @idespac @hexqueensupreme @hecohansen31 @rocketgirl2410 @gold-dragon-slayer @tcc-gizmachine @90sroger @atombombastic @stephanie-everlasting @nsainmoonchild

[roslinadama-sinequanon]

Saying Good-Bye to Yesterday-Chapter 11

So, yes it’s been forever and day. I haven’t dropped off the planet or quit writing for Shandy. It just got difficult for a while.  

You can find the chapter here https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13004092/11/Saying-Good-Bye-to-Yesterday and here https://archiveofourown.org/works/15321687/chapters/53083987 and here

****

"Hey, hon." Andy paused in buttoning his shirt at the greeting, his lips curving into a smile when he took in Sharon's disheveled appearance as she entered their bedroom, fresh from a workout, spandex shorts clinging to her long toned thighs, loose tendrils of hair slipping out of her high ponytail.

"How was the Barre class?" He asked.

"It wasn't Barre. It was Spin." Over the past few months, Amy had convinced her to start taking spin classes with her, adding to her usual regimen of Body Barre, Pilates, and Yoga.

"Well, how was Spin?"

"Ugh." She pulled the sweaty racerback tank over her head. "Jelly legs."

"Gorgeous legs," he corrected.

"Yes, well, that takes work, darling." Though she ate healthily, for the most part, was supple, naturally active, and thanks to genetics and a great metabolism, didn't have to fight hard to maintain her slender figure, she exercised to keep toned and fit. In addition to the classes she attended when her schedule allowed, she swam laps almost every day, did some light weights at the PD gym, and also got out to Malibu to a riding stable as often as she could. When she first mentioned her horseback riding to Andy as a full-body workout, he gave her a typical Andy quip, "for the horse, right? " She'd ignored the comment until she could prove her point. One afternoon she'd taken him on what he referred to as a "ball crushing" ride, and he'd sheepishly eaten his words. Later still, when they'd become intimate and he'd felt those "thighs of steel" around his waist, he'd come to an even greater appreciation of that "full-body" exercise.

"Well, I'm pretty gross right now, so I'm going to hop in the shower." She pulled off her sports bra and wiped at the sweat under her breasts before dropping it in the hamper and disappearing into the bathroom. When she emerged 15 minutes later, she had one towel wrapped around her torso, the other turban-style around her head.

"Don't forget, I have book club tonight," she said.

"Yeah, I'm gonna hit a meeting."

She glanced up sharply from her dresser, a pair of rose-colored panties dangling from her fingertips. "Everything okay?"

Though her tone remained neutral, Andy picked up the tiny inflection of worry. It wasn't his usual meeting night. "Yeah, everything's fine," he assured her. "I had to skip last week because of our case, and I haven't gotten the chance to talk to Isaac."

"About us?"

"Yes."

Once in her fresh panties, Sharon shimmied on a pair of black leggings that she paired with a long, slouchy v-neck cashmere sweater in a soft shade of blush. To finish off the casual outfit, she slipped on a pair of two-tone quilted Chanel ballet flats, big silver hoop earrings, and a silver cuff bracelet. Andy continued to watch her dress. Watching her shed her professional persona for her personal one was kind of a ritual for him. At work, she was all fitted, classic, sleek lines. Understated and sophisticated. At home, her wardrobe was softer and a little more eclectic. Even her jewelry was different. At work, simple diamond studs in her ears and her watch, no bracelets, no necklaces, no dangling earrings. At home, she often wore pretty bracelets, hoops or dangling earrings, and a variety of necklaces, including the crucifix she never wore to work. Separation of church and state and all. He asked her once why she stopped wearing necklaces when she took over Major Crimes. After expressing surprise that he had actually noticed that, she told him that Brenda had warned her that wearing a necklace when interviewing suspects was dangerous because they could use it to try to strangle her. Given the violent animosity their former Chief seemed to bring out in suspects, he figured she was speaking from experience. Probably a good idea that he wore his sobriety necklace tucked in under his shirt. He was pretty sure there were hundreds of suspects over the years who would have loved nothing more than to strangle him.

A half-hour later, with her hair blown dry and her make up re-applied, Sharon came out of the bedroom to see Andy slipping on his jean jacket as he prepared to head out. Rusty was sitting on the couch on his laptop.

"You boys are on your own for supper tonight," she reminded the two.

"Okay. " Rusty glanced up. "What do you want to do, Andy?"

"I have a meeting, so I thought I could pick something up for us on my way home. Want a pizza from Palermo's?"

"Just make sure my half isn't loaded down with veggies."

Andy rolled his eyes. "No veggies. Got it."

Sharon smiled and started to reach for the Trader Joes bag she'd left on the table.

"I've got that, babe." Andy took the heavy bag and followed her out the door. Not so long ago, she might have bristled at the move and argued that she could carry the bag herself, but Andy knew that. It was simply a gentlemanly act of kindness, and she no longer looked for any sort of underlying misogynistic meaning to his kind gestures.

******

The strong smell of flowers hit Sharon just outside the storefront, and she glanced up at the pretty awning hanging over the doorway. "Lotions and Potions," her friend Summer's bath and body shop in Mar Vista. She opened the door, and the floral and spicy scents grew more pronounced. Taking a few steps in, she scanned the room, looking past the displays of soaps, bath salts, body creams, and lotions to see Summer with a customer over in the incense and essential oil section. The little bell that jangled at her entry drew Summer's attention, and when she glanced over and saw who it was, she gave Sharon a smile and a hand gesture indicating that she would be with her in a minute. Sharon nodded and began browsing, lifting and examining the vintage apothecary jars Summer used to carry her product. The old-fashioned jars and antique-looking sepia labels with their intricate designs and calligraphy lettering harkened back to another era as if she was stepping back in time.

Several years ago, this had been a New Age jewelry and clothing store where Summer worked as a clerk. Summer fit right in with today's millenials, often flitting from job to job, but for as long as Sharon had known her, she grew herbs and made homemade soaps and lotions in her house, selling her creations on the weekends at craft fairs and farmer's markets. Then Anabel, the storeowner, allowed her to put a few samples out for sale at the store, and they were a big hit. Soon she had a whole product line for sale. When Anabel decided to sell the store, the first person she approached was Summer, which had taken Summer completely by surprise. She was an artist, after all, not a businesswoman. I mean sure, she practically managed the store, but what did she know about running a business? At least that's what she said to Sharon when they were talking out the pros and cons. It was a moot point, anyway. Summer didn't have the kind of money needed to start a business.

But Sharon did. When her grandparents died, she was bequeathed quite a large inheritance. Some of the money was in a trust, but she had more than enough to lend Summer for the start-up costs. Summer hadn't seen it that way. It had been a battle royal for Sharon to get her best friend to agree to the loan. The very idea of it terrified Summer. What if she didn't succeed? What if she couldn't pay Sharon back? Sharon had gone through hell digging out of the mess Jack created for her financially, and she didn't want to see her have to deal with anything like that again. And most of all, she didn't want the money coming between them. Their friendship was too important. But Sharon prevailed. They worked it all out, with Sharon as an investor, and then they worked together to make Summer's vision become a reality.

The quirky little store was a reflection of its quirky little owner, and it was a hit. Situated only a few miles from both Venice Beach and Santa Monica, it drew in both the unconventional crowd and the well-to-do. Summer paid Sharon back several years ago, but Sharon still took pride in all that she had helped her friend accomplish here.

Grabbing a bottle of her favorite vanilla/jasmine body cream, Sharon glanced back around to see that Summer was still engrossed in conversation with her customer, her light brown curls bouncing on her shoulders with every enthusiastic nod of her head. Rather than stand around waiting, she decided to make her way to Summer's office in the back of the store. She pushed aside the beads that hung in the doorway, in lieu of an actual door, giving a loud sigh at the chaos. As usual, Summer's desk was filled with clutter: folders, papers, coffee mugs, and a bunch of opened boxes. No way could she ever work surrounded by such a mess. In fact, she could already feel the prickles of anxiety at the very idea. She started to move things around to make a spot to set her bag down when an item in one of the boxes caught her eye. Reaching in, she pulled it out, eyes widening with both surprise and curiosity.

"Find anything you like?"

Sharon jumped, nearly dropping the glass object. "Dammit, Summer! "

Summer's wide grin grew even wider. "Gotcha. Either you're losing your cop instincts, or that object holds more than a little interest for you."

"What is it?"

"If I have to tell you, Andy has a real problem."

Sharon flushed. "I know what it is; I just mean why do you have boxes of this stuff?"

"That stuff, as you call it, is luxury personal care products. "

One elegant brow rose skeptically. "Luxury? They're…"

"Glass dildos."

"And again, you have boxes of these, why?"

"I had a distributor come in for a meeting today. She wants me to try selling her line here."

"You're going to sell sex toys? Here? At Lotions and Potions?" Sharon looked so appalled that Summer had to giggle.

"No, I am possibly going to sell luxury personal care items. I told her I would think about it. It's a big and pretty lucrative business right now. Look at them, Sharon, they're works of art."

Sharon looked again at the item in her hand, eyeing it critically. Blown glass with swirls of color, graceful lines. She had to admit, it really did look like a piece of art.

"Much more attractive than the real thing. Am I right?"

Sharon gave a little snort-laugh. "Oh my God, you're right. It is. Though we better not let the guys hear us say that."

"God, no. Men do love their penises, don't they?"

"Mmm…" Sharon hummed affirmatively.

"Almost as much as they love our boobs."

Sharon shook her head with amused affection and another little snort-laugh. She never quite knew what was going to come out of Summer's mouth. In that respect, and in so many more, they were as different as night and day. Oil and water. Chalk and cheese.

Summer was as outgoing and irreverent as Sharon was private and respectful. As unconventional and flighty as Sharon was traditional and responsible. As loud and boisterous, as Sharon was soft-spoken and reserved.

Summer was thrift store boho gauzy tops, flowing skirts, Birkenstocks, and arms covered in bangle bracelets. Sharon was Neiman Marcus pencil skirts, Armani suits, killer heels, and diamond earrings. Summer lifted her arms in worship to the winter solstice while Sharon knelt in reverent prayer at midnight mass. Summer was homeschooling and a childhood spent on a commune. Sharon was private Catholic schools and summers on Nantucket. Summer was Stevie Nicks to Sharon's Grace Kelly.

And yet, they clicked. For 26 years, they had been best friends. From the day that Sharon and Jack moved into their new home in Mar Vista and a bossy little child knocked on their door stating, "I'm five. Do you have any little girls my age I can play with?" With baby Ricky on her hip, Sharon smiled at the little ragamuffin with Popsicle lips and a mop of brown curls and then introduced her to a bashful four-year-old Emily. Within seconds, a harried woman in a tank top and an Indian wrap skirt straight out of the 1970s followed. Since she shared the same wild head of curls with the little moppet now dragging Emily along by the hand, Sharon assumed she was her mother. Indeed, the woman said she was looking for her daughter and, like Sharon, she too had a diapered little boy resting against her shoulder. Sharon introduced herself then invited the gypsy looking woman in for a cup of coffee. It was the beginning of three very important friendships: Sharon and Summer, Emily and Jade, and Ricky and Cody.

Despite their differences in background, personality, and temperament, the two young women easily found common ground. Their kids were the same age, they both loved the arts, and they were both in difficult marriages. Their bond was quick and strong. They spent their days off from work building sandcastles with their kids at the beach, pushing swings at the park, or attending children's reading circles at the library. They babysat for each other, swapped books, and on those rare occasions when they had time for themselves, browsed through art galleries, bookstores, and museums together. Most importantly, since neither had extended family in Los Angeles, they created a much-needed support system for each other. And that was something that became increasingly important, because, within a few years, they were both on their own. Single parents.

Summer came across as flaky, but she was everything Sharon needed in a friend: supportive, warm, honest, and a strong shoulder to cry on-one of a very select group of people whom Sharon allowed to see her vulnerability. They had journeyed together through all the difficulties and heartaches life threw at them, helping each other raise their children, bucking each other up when things seemed bleak, and sharing in each other's joy as they each found success in their professions and new love. From breast-feeding to hot flashes, they had seen each other through it all.

"So, " Summer continued. "Go ahead and take whatever you like. I know you're not a prude. Try one out and let me know what you think."

"I'm good." Sharon placed the item back in the box with a little quirk of her lips. "I've got the real thing now."

"Yeah, well what about these? Could be fun." Summer dangled a pair of handcuffs.

"Again, I've got the real thing."

"Pfff… Those things would hurt. These are love cuffs. Nice and soft. See." Sharon admired the plush cuffs Summer thrust in her face, faux fur with little tiny bows, definitely not standard LAPD gear, but shook her head negatively. "I'm all set." She glanced down at her watch. "Come on, Sum. We really have to get going or we're going to be late."

"Oh, no, we wouldn't want to be late."

Sharon rolled her eyes, ignoring the sarcasm. Fate had surrounded her with smart asses. "No, we wouldn't. So, let's go."

"Okay, okay, don't get your panties in a wad. Just promise me you'll think about it."

Sharon blew out a long-suffering sigh. "Fine, I'll think about it, now let's go."

*****

Sitting in the back corner of the bookstore, Sharon found herself center stage, surrounded by a group of women gushing with excitement over the diamond on her finger, grabbing her hand to look at it and pumping her for all the details of the proposal.

"It's so beautiful, Sharon. " Aggie's eyes went dreamy, her hands in a prayer triangle under her chin, lost in the fairytale of Sharon's proposal. "And how romantic. I can just picture it…A winter wonderland. A romantic sleigh ride through the woods and Andy down on one knee professing his undying love for you-" She broke off, swiftly coming back to reality when everyone burst into laughter. "What?" She defended herself. "I love romance."

"As if we didn't know," Marina scoffed. Whenever it was Aggie's turn to pick their monthly book, it was invariably a romance of some sort.

"Hey, I thought Russians were supposed to have romantic souls." Aggie's protest was made in the soft New Orleans drawl she hadn't lost despite having lived in LA for the past 20 years.

"I had one of those…Four husbands ago." Marina, a ballerina, had defected to the United States in the late seventies and had later opened a ballet studio in LA after retiring from the stage. Sharon met her when she signed Emily up for lessons at her studio after her young daughter had become more serious about studying dance and outgrown her instructor. It was Marina who had seen the talent and drive in Emily and helped her become the principal ballerina she was today. Marina was also cynical and pragmatic and went through men, mostly younger men, the way Andy used to go through younger women.

"Don't listen to her," Sharon said. "You're right, Aggie, Andy couldn't have picked a more romantic way to propose. Hard to believe I found a man whose sense of occasion can actually rival mine. It's certainly a night I will never forget."

"I still can't believe Andy took Gavin to help pick out your ring and not me," Summer sulked. The room went silent, all the women turning to her with wide eyes before erupting in giggles. "What?" She held her hand's open palms up and shrugged in a "what the hell" gesture.

Rachel, a pretty blonde, responded. "Come on, Sum, when it comes to style, there is nobody, other than maybe Roz here, who is more opposite from Sharon than you."

"I'd take exception to that if it weren't 100% true," was Roz's good-natured response. A writer for a comedy sitcom, Roz was notoriously sloppy in her dress, preferring the sweatpants, t-shirts and Converse sneakers she was wearing right now to any other attire. When she was forced to wear something nice, she chose boxy male suits and would never be caught dead in a "girlie" skirt or dress.

"I don't think we're that opposite." Summer's protest drew more peals of laughter.

"Summer…" Rachel lifted her friend's skirt, smirking when she exposed plastic clogs. "You are wearing Crocs. Need I say more?"

"There's nothing wrong with Crocs. They're comfortable." Summer pushed her skirt back over her shoes.

"No offense, I love you to pieces, but they're fugly and Sharon wouldn't be caught dead out in public in them." With her sleek dark blonde bob and stylish clothes, Rachel Garner had far more in common when shopping with Sharon than Summer. Like Andrea, Rachel was a lawyer, now an advisor to Mayor Garcetti. She and Sharon had become friends back when Sharon was promoted to the LAPD's Women's Coordinator position and they had worked together on numerous cases.

"What I don't understand is why you want to get married in the first place. I mean you just got out of a bad marriage, why jump right back in?" The room went silent, this time with tension, not humor. Roz sat back, arms crossed over her chest, seemingly unconcerned by the group's collective disapproval.

"What the hell are you talking about?" It was Summer who quickly jumped to Sharon's defense. "Just out of a bad marriage? She's been done with that ungrateful, immature, disloyal prick for 23 freaking years! Just because she only formally divorced him a couple of years ago doesn't mean-"

"Summer," Sharon tugged on her friend's arm. "It's okay, calm down."

"It's not okay; she has no right to say that. You," she pointed a finger at Roz, "have no idea what she went through. You've known her for what? Four years? You have no right to question her choices. And just because you hate men doesn't mean she has to feel the same."

"Okay, okay, whoa. I didn't mean to start World War III." Roz held her hands up in defeat. "And for the record, I don't hate men. Well, all men anyway. I'm just saying, she doesn't need a man…a husband."

"Roz is right." Sharon agreed, taking a sip of her wine.

"What?" Summer turned to her with confusion.

"She's right. I don't need a man. But I can want one without needing him. And you know what? That makes this the purest relationship I have ever been in, ever. I don't need Andy's money, I don't need his security, I don't need his protection, I don't need him to provide shelter for me, I'm not looking for a father for my children. I am with Andy for one reason only. I love him. It's as easy and as simple as that. I love him and I want to spend the rest of my life with him. And yes, I want the formal commitment of marriage. I know I don't need it, but I want it. And that's my choice." She tapped her fingers on her chest, stressing the point. "I am at a place in my life right now where I can do what I want to do, not what I need to do, and you have no idea how much freedom there is in that for me."

"And we're thrilled for you." Summer's narrowed eyes shot daggers at Roz, causing Sharon to suppress a smile. Summer was about as laid back a person as she knew, however, one thing they did have in common was that you didn't mess with the people they love.

"Yes, we are." Patrice set a gentle hand on Sharon's knee. "Andy is a great guy, and he loves you to the moon and back." As Andy's caregiver while he was recovering from his surgery, Patrice had gotten to know the man and the way he felt about Sharon better than any of them.

Andrea nodded in agreement. "You all know how I feel about marriage, but hell, if I had a guy who looked at me the way Flynn looks at Sharon, who knows?"

Aggie, who had gone off to pilfer through the shelves, returned and flopped down in an oversized chair. She opened the small book she'd been looking for and began reading. "To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable."

"That's C.S Lewis, isn't it? " Sharon recognized the passage from having read a lot of Lewis's work.

Aggie nodded. "From The Four Loves."

"Well, he sums it up rather nicely, doesn't he? " Sharon poured a little more wine in her glass, then sat back. "Loving someone is a risk, no doubt about it, but I will always believe that it is a risk worth taking." She was well aware of how easy it would have been to encase her heart in one of those caskets after Jack, to allow herself to become unreachable. But that just wasn't in her DNA. Barriers, yes, she had certainly erected some of those, but closed off completely? No. She simply had too much love inside her to shut down like that. She knew people often thought she was cold, aloof, unemotional. They never knew it was all a façade, a shield meant to hide the fact that she actually felt things very deeply. She'd had to learn how to contain those emotions, to hide her feelings, but they were there, they were always there. And, had she entombed her heart, she never would have been able to let Rusty in, nor been able to embrace the man who had become the love of her life. Vulnerable? Yes, love made you vulnerable, but the rewards far outweighed any risk.

"I agree, we all need to remain open to love. Now, who's hungry?" Helen, the owner of the bookstore, set to restore order to their opinionated little group. "We'll eat, then dive into the book."

Sharon shot the older woman a grateful look. They might all be friends, but she had never really been comfortable with people dissecting her life.

The food was potluck. Each member of the club took a turn hosting the meeting, but it was always potluck so no one was stuck having to feed the whole group. At the end of each meeting, they drew out of a hat to see if they would be bringing the beverages, an appetizer, or an entrée to the next meeting. Though it wasn't a rule, they often tried to base whatever food they brought on the setting of their book. The only part of the meal they did not draw for was dessert. Mary Agnes Boudreaux McCormack, Aggie, always brought dessert. Twenty years ago, Aggie had moved to Los Angeles after Craig McCormack walked into her bakery in New Orleans and swept the 37-year-old widow off her feet, taking her home with him to California. Aggie opened a pretty little bed and breakfast near Venice Beach and brought with her the French and Creole delicacies of her former home, including the to-die-for beignets she brought to each meeting, regardless of the setting. No one was willing to forgo those beignets.

This month's book was set in Mexico, so there were cheesy nachos with garlic guacamole, sweet potato and black bean taquitos, a creamy taco soup, Mexican chicken and rice, and fish tacos. Sharon had drawn beverages at their last meeting, so, along with a case of seltzer water, she'd brought a few bottles of a Baja Cabernet Sauvignon/Merlot blend along with the makings for Mojitos.

"And these," she drew out two large bottles of champagne. "Because we can't celebrate 10 years without a little bubbly. I still can't believe we've been doing this for 10 years." She poured the champagne and passed the glasses around to the ten incredible women sprawled over the sitting area. Ranging in age from their late forties to early sixties, with most in their fifties like Sharon, black, white, and mixed heritage, native Californians and transplants, gay and straight, single and married, they were a diverse group who had come together to bond over a shared love of books. And somewhere along the way, they had become friends. Friends that had seen each other through infidelity, divorce, infertility, empty nests, cancer, adoptions, menopause, job losses, promotions, and new loves gained and lost.

The book club had come about rather organically not long after Helen and her business partner, Jenny, opened "The Book Nook", a combination bookstore/café a little over 10 years ago. Helen's husband, Christopher, had accepted the position of visiting professor at USC, and the British couple fell in love with the climate and laid back lifestyle of Southern California. So, when a permanent position became available, they decided to leave the gray skies and rain of England behind and settle in the land of sunshine and surfers. At the time, Jenny was a stay at home mom whose marriage had fallen apart after her battle with breast cancer. Divorced, her children in college, and cancer-free, she was ready to embrace a new life when Helen became a patron of the coffeehouse where she was working as a barista. Soon they were discussing a joint venture. A few years later, their bookstore/cafe became reality, and Sharon, Summer, and Rachel became some of their first customers. Recommendations of authors and long chats over coffee regarding the books they read or were interested in reading had Jenny suggesting the idea of starting a book club.

For Sharon, it was perfect timing. Ricky had just gone off to Stanford, and with Emily across the country at NYU, she was reeling from the effects of her empty nest. For 21 years, her life had revolved around her children and their needs, car-pooling, cooking, laundry, helping with homework, getting them to practices, cheering them on at games and recitals, and most recently visiting college campuses in preparation for their futures. And then suddenly they were just…gone. The house was too quiet, too empty, too filled with memories. And, with her children gone, the fact that she did not have a love life only became more pronounced, her bed suddenly emptier, colder to the touch. And it didn't help that she was starting to feel like she was in a rut at the PSB. Melancholy enveloped her in its insidious web, eating away at her, telling her that her best days were now in the past.

Later, she would find that she actually enjoyed the peace and solitude of being on her own, the freedom of not having to organize anyone but herself. But in the beginning, the loneliness was crushing. Both Rachel and Summer commiserated with her because they were going through the same thing. It was Marina who encouraged her to use that time to focus on herself and do some of the things she'd wanted to do but hadn't had time for in the past.

For many years, Sharon had helped out a few nights a month at St. Joseph's soup kitchen, bringing Emily and Ricky along with her, which was how she'd gotten to know Aggie. Now, she began volunteering at the church's domestic violence shelter, counseling the women on their rights, teaching them how to defend themselves, and helping them to find jobs. She coached them through the interview process and helped them select outfits from donated clothes-including her own-that would help them look professional. Eventually, she ended up on the board of directors. She also became the LAPD's liaison with "The Sunshine Kids Foundation" helping kids with cancer, worked with Rachel to raise money for "Emily's List", sold her house and bought the condo, and then she joined the book club.

It was the perfect hobby and helped her to expand her group of friends. Other than Gavin, Summer, and Rachel, she didn't really have any close friends, confidantes. It wasn't that she was anti-social, she had many friendly acquaintances: Marina, Aggie, a few women and men at work. But, the truth was, she had never had the time to cultivate deep friendships. As a single mom, she was usually either working or taking care of her kids. And where most people made friends on the job, her work within the PSB made that impossible. Barriers were essential in her position, and that had not been easy, especially in the beginning. Even though she'd always been a bit reserved, she was not a naturally unfriendly person, so having to close off that side of her had taken time and effort. But she'd become good at it. Maybe too good. Once her walls were built, it was hard to let people back in.

The book club started out small, and though it had not been intentional, they were all women: Helen, Sharon, Summer, Rachel, Jenny, Marina, and Aggie. Roz, Patrice, and Andrea were later additions. Once the only women thing was established, they decided to keep it that way, which pleased Sharon. She was surrounded by men all day long, worked in a profession dominated by men, and she didn't have a problem with that. For the most part, she liked working with men, liked their direct ways, and had always felt that the best teams had a combination of women and men. On the other hand, it was nice to spend time with her women friends and immerse herself in the female perspective. It was also easier to be herself and let her hair down without the male/female dynamic, without feeling like she had to prove that she was tough enough, strong enough, smart enough, the way she did at work, every… single… day. Around these women, she could express her emotions, and frankly, her sexuality, without being embarrassed or viewed as weak.

"To ten years!" Helen raised her glass of champagne.

"To ten years!" The group chorused.

TBC

[sirfleurs]

i was sixteen years old when my hand was blue.

The grayscale pitch

Preface      

Life is not easy when you are high and alone watching television or pulling an all-nighter listening to Jimi Hendrix. The brain becomes dull. Overstimulated by genius. You stop thinking and overthink at the same time. I guess that’s what some people call daydreaming. All your bad thoughts get loose and all your inhibitions disappear. I figure this is right before the moment you are most likely to kill yourself. I’ll give it an hour before my Manic-Depression shows its ugly face. As I haven’t killed myself yet in an age of 23 I think I’ve done pretty well. I was sitting in my room in some Woodstock apartment writing on my first ever soon to be book. I had decided to call it ‘The Pitch’. It would be about some witty guy who had a great idea and he would be trying to sell his ‘pitch’ to everyone who’d listen. I had thought the rest of the story through. To be honest I didn’t know more than that. As I was about to sit down I had a beer, smoked a cig and 5 minutes beforehand I had masturbated to a busty forest nymph. Believe me was I tired.

A week ago I was checked-in at Fitzroy Hostel in New York City. It had been insane. My supposedly friends and I were drinking cheap wine in our room during this pandemic across the country. Geez after two bottles of wine I somehow managed to pay for- and eat two caps of MDMA and it blew my mind. I sat on the floor to cool my ass but everything began to spin and it hit me hard like a jolt. Andrew said “hey dude, maybe you should go to the bathroom and stick two fingers in your throat you don’t look too good”. But he was just too late. I burst like a water balloon, vomiting on the floor of Duncans room. Duncan was this nice guy that played XBOX and drank occasionally. Geez was I sorry. I locked myself in the bathroom to get the caps out. I was trying to vomit and I began to feel heated. The MDMA had already kicked in and it was too late to reverse it. I would have to wait this one out. Everything started to feel nice all around the body. My eyes became big as small plates and my teeth began to clench. I got an strange urge to stick my hand in the toilet to cool my body. Something I am not very proud of. On the small shelf I found a shampoo that I emptied in the toilet too just for the hell of it. Minutes later people would lock the door up with a coin and find me covered in shampoo. The helped me in the shower and I went to bed shortly after. Hours later I woke up. Two guys invited me for a joint. Something I couldn’t decline. It was only the second time I had ever tried drugs. While we smoked this cat, Alex told me “you know this only happened because you drank too much. You can never be too careful with mixing alcohol and MD. It doesn’t help that you hadn’t eaten anything either.” “Geez, I was not in control at all. I’d better stick to weed and drinking. That’s something I know”. Always do drugs with very good pals of yours.

So I went to the street and couldn’t make any money. I was to make something one way or the other. Which isn’t always easy when you don’t know what profession you want to be in. All I knew was that I didn’t need any tiresome busy work in my life. I like to feel needed but not so much that I can’t laugh and have breaks during the day. Life is life you know. But I would dance down the street like drums banging through the air. Long time ago I would have taken every job offered to me now I’m not so sure. I went to a fruit parlor in the New Habor Market in near Manhatten in princess St. I asked the first guy :” how much are these avocados.” “two fifty for three piece”. Fruit in the markets are much cheaper than everywhere else and the life is strong on the street which I thought couldn’t be bad. Everyone just running back and forth doing their bussinnes as usual. The markets was one of the places that hadn’t closed due to the pandemic. Nice, I thought to myself. I handed the guy three dollars and told him to keep the rest. “ hey man, how you get a job here standing here selling fruit, I’d really like to know”. “ah young man, I could take a look at your resume if you’d like”. Problem was I didn’t have much to offer him, so I stalled him trying to promote myself in person. I can be a very persuasive guy sometimes. When I’m in the right mood and I felt it crippling in my fingers my mood was good for this situation. “Hey man, I don’t exactly have a written resume. But I’ll tell you everything you’ll need to know. Im good at shouting and a quick learner give me a shot and ill prove to you, you didn’t waste your time”. I sounded like a sucker. But I couldn’t eat my words. The guy didn’t seem interested. I said “I promise give me a shot and I will not blow it.” He looked me in the eye and we stood for a few seconds staring at each other. “come down tomorrow at 6 sharp I’ll see what you can do. You won’t be paid for your three first shifts and from thereon you’ll be paid commission on how much you sell”. Sounded good to me so I nodded “you betcha” I said with a coy smile I sounded like a dork geez. Anyhow that’s how I got my first job. It went fairly well. I continued down the street. I still had something else to do before my first shift. Let me stand next to your fire I thought to myself. I was excited as hell. Down the road I saw a green balloon it was helium filled balloons. A clown was giving them out to kids. Everything was nice the weather was good and you could hear the wind sweep from central park. I needed to buy some weed for the next time coming. So I got up my phone and rang my friend Alex who had a connection. “O boyy I got a job fix me up with some of that green”. I met him outside the hostel and bought a quarter ounce for 50 dollars which is a fine price for nugs like these. Then I went home and lit a blunt. Just a small one while I sat at my outside porch. We had a giant tree and a lot of ungroomed weeds in our garden. We also had a cat I personally named Pysser in the name of my favourite old person who recently died. He was a sergent Knud Romer was his name. He once wrote an article about me when I was fifteen going to summer camp for young boys with no other places to go for their vacation. God was I sad to see him go. When I was done with the blunt I went up to my room and opened my book. It was called Pimp and the author went by the moniker Iceberg Slim. What kind of badass shit was that. It was kind of interesting the way he proclaimed the pimp life. And he was a real gangster. His bottom whore at the end of her mileage. Meaning the whore who kept every other whore in his house in line. When she goes everything always goes to hell for a pimp. He conend her. He made a whole setup with actors to con her into thinking she killed a rich motherfucker. She would be in the hotel room and this guy would collapse on her. Slim would come up to the room and call a doctor and get the guy collected. Slim conned her into thinking he bribed the police. That way his bottom whore was good to go for more tricks. That’s some cold shit. My thought whirled reading about the cocaine snorting and his nose hurting feelings of something scraping at the roof of his brain made me dizzy. I closed the book and stared at the ceiling. Dreaming. Aw man what do I do now. My head bounced like a bass line I felt slick. Breathing heavily but still relaxed. I went down for a cig to clear my thoughts. Sitting there I couldn’t stop looking at all the animals we had in this household. Cat and two dogs just lying freely whenever wherever.

The next morning I came back 6 sharp. A long 10 hours shift. My legs were aching and my head spiining. I wasn’t used to long as shifts. I was only used to lying around doing nothing chilling with friends. But it would come to me In time oso I ekpt coming there shouting like the others. Loud and confident keeping my back steady trying to pull in costumers in. At the end of each shift you would get paid a percentage of what you’ve sold. The first day I sold I couple of vegetables to this old lady who though I was cute and some couples wanting watermelon smoothies. It didn’t go so well. And I sure as hell didn’t want those pity purchases from old ladies. I made two fifty. It really wasn’t much. But at least I was paid the first day. Something I wasn’t expecting. I went to home sat on the couch with the other living there. We sat there chilling drinking beer and playing chess. And some girl that was visiting was playing skyrim.

Dreamers day

I remember when I was a small kid. I would look at the ocean and dream of being a bird. I would be on the moon. I was a gay kid, really. So much that my mother and sister thought I was actually gay. I remember the beach of Turkey. The warm ocean on my limbs under the moonlight. The salt burning in your eyes. Those were the days of happiness and good rest. Father would show us to surf the water on our stomachs whenever a wave came. Also the days of Levanto were nice. Father and I would hike the mountains at daybreak. We would struggle to find a parking spot and Father would cuss. Sister and I would get mojitos and look at the natives. The parties were everywhere. We would bathe in the clear water by the cliff. I remember many young adults would jump in. Everyone wearing speedos except one skinny langy kid. A couple kissing. The guy would get a boner and the girl would cover his little man with her belly. They kissed passionately. People would jump in from 5 meters and even more. Chances were one day they wouldn’t jump far enough into the water and they would hit the sharp rocks at the cliffs bottom. I picked small black clams from the rock and lurked it open. Levanto was a trip through forests cussing. We were in Italy. Driving a big bad car. I would lie across the extra three seats in the behind. I would push my bare feet against the cold glass of the window. I would see the damp print of my feet and the water drops on the other side of the window. I was glad I was inside the warmth of the car. My sisters friend was along. I liked her. She must have been sisters best friend. Not anymore.. I would lie in the bed reading. I was afraid of small gold fish. We would see the colosseum. I would ask “is it real”. Father would laugh for 10 years. I am now here in bed. On the other side of the world. Mother was different. We would be inside. I would care about her. She would be weaker. Depressed. I would be worried sick. I am still worried. But I am also smarter. She can care for herself. She stopped smoking now for the seventeenth time. She says one day she will make it. I hope it for her sake. I am not sure. The price of cigarettes went up. I would watch television. I would come out and talk to her she would listen and I would cry. This pretty much sums up our relationship. I still love her though. I was a dreamer. My English teacher told my sister I lived on the moon. That was fine with me. Not anymore. I want to be in this world now. I want to do good.

The days when we were friends we would go around your backyard make silly films. Scream like small girls. But we were small boys. Guess there is not that big of a difference. We would draw silly faces in class. We would play on the smartboard. We didn’t care about anything but fun. We would be older and try to learn music. Try to do good in school. People break apart and new people find each other. Right now I don’t find anyone. I am alone with the people I live with. The are polite and we drink together. But we are not friends. Not yet but we could be., I think things can happen. “Don’t think twice it’s alright”. You can get everything down the first time you try. You see poetry and stories are written in the haze in the bottom of your mind. You have to write it now not think too much. Know what you want to write and hurry up. Times against you. You have to run or it will be dull or you will be drowsy. Don’t let anything walk up behind your back. Keep your ears and eyes open for everything. This is not the time for storytelling. Open your eyes open your ears. You didn’t see the best minds of your generation starving hysterical naked.

Three small kittens

The day came after the weekend to go back to work at the fruit parlor., The guy seemed to be very contend with my abilities. I would make at least ten dollars for my self each shift. And I would have just enough for food for the day. Not that it was enough. I still had rent to cover. So I seeked my boss for help asking “how do you make a living out of this. Whats the catch.” He responded “the catch is catch 22 anyone who wants to get out of combat duty isn’t really crazy”. “would you have to be crazy to want to be in combat?” he nodded “and it works the other way around too”. I pondered it over “you would have to be rationel to want to come out of combat?” “exactly”. It didn’t make any sense to me. What did that have to do with anything. After the shift my chef handed my a fairly small red book with the title Catch-22. I had only made eight dollars this day. It felt lousy. At least I was able to take as much leftover I wanted. That would cover my hunger, but the money wouldn’t cover my rent. Soon I would run out of money and I had no idea as to what to do. I came home and fell down the stinking madras on the floor of my room. I opened the first page of the book he had handed to me. Whatever it was about I was kind of excited to dick in. Every two hours I would go down for a cig and occasionally a glass of water. Didn’t eat anything except avocados. They sustain you for a long time and are delicious with salt. Just be careful some of the avocados are bad inside and will give you diarrhea. It isn’t very comfortable to go to the bathroom every ten minutes during a shift with your boss around. Next I had collected 330 dollars earning eleven dollars for myself. Which is a personal record of mine. I knew I could do better. Catch 22 was a real witty book I didn’t know what I had to learn from it. Each day I would come back to work my boss wouldn’t mention the book. He would just keep yelling for ten 12 hours straight like a muezzin standing on the top of the tower calling to prayer. He was insane. During the day his temple would pulsate like an angry cat who had catched syphilis. Sometimes his lips would be blue and he would have to sit down. Whenever that occurred shortly after he would pull up a small orange container from his pocket and down some pills. He must have had a heart disease or something. I wouldn’t get involved though. He never brought it up himself. So I figured he must have had a good reason to keep low profile. It wasn’t my fight to fight. Four times a day I would go further away with some of the other youngsters trying to make it as a fruit parlor. I was doing the worst but who really cares. It was no competition. I was just trying to make a living.

[nyxtoxicate]

hello yearning: a'plyae mae.

Summary:

Jung Taekwoon, a fourth tier soccer player in the K3 division of Korea's football leagues, juggles the struggle of raising his nephew as well as pushing his career forward when he unconsciously commits an act which bestows a faerie of good fortune upon him. A problem; the faerie is very mischievous. Another problem; the faerie is also very, very attractive.

Rating- Mature.

artwork by @changbaegi​. used with permission.

Chapter 5: Petrichor (or read on ao3)

Taekwoon begins to regret arguing with Jaehwan in the weeks to come. The reasons as to why Jaehwan became so upset with the ground rules Taekwoon had set were a mystery to him, but Jaehwan was particularly cold to him, going so far as to literally turn his back to the man whenever he entered a room.

 And Minyul, in an act of solidarity with the asparas who was quickly becoming his new best friend, began to reject more and more of Taekwoon’s invitations. Even the ones where he could have skipped an extra tutor session after his regular class. Needless to say, Taekwoon was finding himself feeling down often these days. Not to mention that all of his left socks were slowly going missing.

So much for having a faerie of good fortune around.

The worst part, and he came to find this out begrudgingly when he stopped into the cafe down the street from his apartment ( a small thing, barely a hole-in-the-wall, but still somehow cozy and charming ) for the first time and was met with the sight of a very familiar looking barista smiling brightly from behind the counter at a few ogling, giggling female patrons.

“J-Jaehwan!” He may or may not have exclaimed extremely loudly right in the middle of the entryway to the cafe, where Taekwoon had frozen out of astonishment, effectively blocking both flows of human traffic in and out of the establishment. Jaehwan had simply shot him a wink, causing Taekwoon to (1) flush so profusely he nearly became dizzy from the rush of blood to his cheeks and (2) stumble so fast back out through the door that he almost tripped over his own shoes. His only saving grace had been clinging to the side of the building so hard his knuckles turned white even as the Fae’s tinkling laughter sounded from behind him, ringing in his ears on and on and on and…

Taekwoon went home coffee-less and with a growing headache that day. And the worst part was that the funny business didn’t stop there because, somehow, Jaehwan had choreographed his shifts at the cafe so that he was working whenever Taekwoon was out and in their home whenever Taekwoon was not. Taekwoon saw little of Minyul and way too much of the faerie, and Jaehwan was talkative. Oftentimes he had a story to tell the toddler, something that sent him giggling before he went to sleep, and Minyul was sleeping well lately. There were few nightmares where he would rouse Taekwoon from sleep to comfort him from before the asparas showed up, but in the following month, not a peep came from his nephew’s bedroom. Still, the glow of Minyul’s nightlight shone from his room down the hall, but no matter how much Taekwoon tossed and turned endlessly into the small hours of the morning, Minyul was silent.

Jaehwan took up residence in Taekwoon’s living room, much to the soccer player’s dissatisfaction, but there was little he could do stop it. Truthfully, it wasn’t all that bad considering there was just this extra person thrust into Taekwoon’s life who was now tearing down all of the carefully built walls that he had made to keep his nephew safe and healthy and maybe, hopefully, logical. There was just that small, little thing. (Jaehwan actually helped around the house, too. The living room was, somehow, never dirty. Messy, sure, but every day Taekwoon didn’t have to vacuum was a good day in his books.) The problem was the lack of knowledge. Taekwoon wasn’t learning anything about Jaehwan like this except that he could hold a grudge for a really long time, was incredibly petty and had an affinity for vanilla cream-filled cookies with rainbow sprinkles; many of which he found circulating around the house. Why they ended up in the freezer at one point, Taekwoon didn’t know, nor did he ever want to find out.

An end to his predicament didn’t seem to be in sight, either, and there’s a growing ache in his bones as the warmth of the sun begins to fade and there’s a tangible crispness to the air.

Taekwoon starts to get ideas as the season changes. The sweet bliss of summer had offered some weeks of relaxation for him, and the few weeks that Minyul had off school meant that he could take back some of the time Jaehwan stole from the uncle- nephew duo. Needless to say, there was much intake of sugary treats and little exercise that Taekwoon got, which Jinsoo made sure to poke fun of the next time they had a spar session and Taekwoon found himself out of breath rather quickly.

September came and went with few incidents. Jaehwan was gone more often, presumably working now that caffeine driven teens and young adults were pining for their fixes. (Taekwoon hadn't stepped foot in that cafe ever since the first time) and the thing was that the soccer player was getting used to having another body around. If anything, it was less... lonely. Taekwoon felt not so isolated nowadays, especially considering that his continuous mumblings to himself rarely went unheard. Pro: he didn't feel as crazy. Con: if Jaehwan was around, Taekwoon was sure the fae was storing everything the man said to use as blackmail for another day.

It gets to when the leaves change colours. A melancholy mood befalls the asparas, and Minyul is the one to point it out to Taekwoon when, after a while, it became clear that Jaehwan was not going to be teaching Minyul a 'super cool trick'.

“Ta,” the boy starts, blissfully unaware of the depth of human emotion, “he won’t play with me.” So, Taekwoon drops to knee level, square to his nephew so he can look into the heartbroken eyes staring back at him.

“Why don’t we all go to the game today? That might cheer him up,” Taekwoon suggests, because the football season was starting now and it was time to get back to the grind. He would be playing today; glad that Jinsoo put him through rigorous and relentless training after his previous lack of ingenuity.

Minyul perks up at that, with big brown eyes beginning to fill with excitement. He missed being a part of the crowd, Taekwoon knew. There was an energy in the stands that couldn’t be matched, and even if his nephew was unable to completely comprehend why the atmosphere was so electrifying, he could at least revel in it.

“OK!” Then he’s off, running into the other room without another care in the world and leaving his uncle still kneeling, fond eyes following the child because surely there was a time when he was so easily appeased, too. Taekwoon wished he was so easily appeased now.

Jaehwan’s mood was a downer in the home. His lack of enthusiasm for things had not gone unnoticed, and it made Taekwoon wonder… It made him want to pry. Taekwoon was not a slave to his curiosity, though, and could handle not knowing everything going on in other people’s minds. That had really been the last straw though, when Minyul came to his uncle unhappy. Taekwoon would not allow that, knowing that no person could be perfect all the time but also acknowledging that Minyul was harbouring growing feelings for the fae. Why couldn’t it have been someone Taekwoon was close with, at least? (Taekwoon was never going to admit that he felt threatened by Jaehwan. The lack of a mother figure in Minyul’s life was a painful thought, and Taekwoon constantly thought that Minyul may be better if he had someone else to look up to besides his uncle).

As the soccer player stands, his knees crack in a reminder that his body was getting older. Putting it through intense cardio may keep him feeling young, but every day was another day closer to the big three o, and that was scary- life kept going on, but where was he going to end up? He trudges into the living room, where Jaehwan is sitting at the windowsill, fixated on something down below on the street.

“I’m taking Minyul to the game later,” Taekwoon pipes up after a moment of silence, Jaehwan not paying his arrival any attention. “He’d like it if you joined us.”

Taekwoon isn’t sure what he’s expecting, but it sure as Hell wasn’t radio silence. But, that’s what he got. The asparas was motionless, still looking below. Every so often, he would blink, which almost alarmed Taekwoon because he might have been a statue otherwise. Taekwoon clears his throat.

“I would like it if you came, as well.” That seems to catch Jaehwan’s attention, because he is visibly startled. Shoulders tense, and the barest movements of his head in Taekwoon’s directions suggest the fae’s newly found interest. It looks like he nods, and that’s enough for the soccer player. It was time to attend to his kid.

As evening arrives, so does the taste of anticipation. Competitive genes were being brought back to life, stretching their stiff limbs in Taekwoon’s nervous lip bite and bouncing leg as he sits on the bench in the locker room beside his teammates. They’re a good sized group today, almost two full lines meaning that they would actually have time to stop and breath on the sidelines before they had to head back in and tear up the turf again. Taekwoon’s cleats felt like lead on his feet, even though he had just been going through warm- up in them. Out there, he knew Minyul would be watching, and he wanted his nephew to be proud; as proud of Taekwoon was Taekwoon was of him.

His captain is spluttering some garbage about friendliness, but Taekwoon had stopped listening some time ago. They all signed the waiver, they all knew the dangers that came with the game. Too many a broken limb for Taekwoon to bat an eye about the issue of a fair game. (He knew how to play dirty. They all did. The difference was that he didn’t go down after every hit to try and invoke a penalty. That was just plain rude, in his opinion). Anyway, bouncing leg. Jinsoo’s hand was on his thigh. Taekwoon didn’t hear what his friend was saying, he just knew that it was time to enter the field and start the game when everyone stood. He’d missed this. He’d missed feeling free.

The noise in the stands deafens him. Or was he deaf beforehand? Taekwoon wasn’t listening, perhaps, because his eyes were scanning for the one face that he actually wanted to see- or maybe it was two now. Jaehwan was sitting with Minyul today, as per the young boy’s request, high enough that he was most likely safe from any ball that decided to leave the play. Taekwoon made sure of that.

“It would be great if Leo made an appearance tonight,” Sungmin was spouting somewhere close to him. Sungmin was a good player, Taekwoon could remember. Sungmin also spent a lot of time with nation- deemed undesirables. Still no drug scandal, though, so Taekwoon had to give him props for that. He throws his teammate a thumbs-up, earning a bright grin from the midfielder before starts mingling with the other men. Caught by the entrance to the locker rooms, Taekwoon can see that Dongchul, their captain, is being hounded by press for that extra moment they can squeeze in before the game. Taekwoon’s chest is starting to feel tight again.

The whistle sounds, but the starting line is devoid of him. That was alright, though, because Jinsoo was pacing beside Taekwoon beside the rest of the team, encouraging their group on until it’s time for them to take over. Whatever goes through Taekwoon’s brain as he plays is a fuzzy recollection. He’s seen videos of himself on the field, a force of nature to be reckoned with and there were more than a few occasions his teammates admitted to never wanting to be checked against him. It’s because Leo was mean.

Sure enough, halftime rolls around in a blink when Taekwoon comes back into himself. He’s panting heavily, sweat rolling off his body from the exertion and he takes long gulps of the bright blue drink in his water bottle. It’s energizing him, he rationalizes, replacing the… Electrolytes? That’s what they were.

His head is between his knees so that he can stare down at the too- bright green turf below him, just too far on the side of fluorescent to look real. Taekwoon loved that he didn’t have the air to think when he was here. He reveled in it.

“The kiddo’s wavin’ at you, buddy,” Jinsoo elbows him in the ribs, effectively breaking Taekwoon from his short dissociation so that he can look at the plump fist rapidly gesturing in the air. A large grin breaks over his face when he waves back, not bothering to see if Jaehwan is doing the same. The life of a second forward could be hard, but meeting the asparas’ eyes was turning out to be a whole new level of difficult.

Twenty minutes of intermission is both too long and painfully short, especially if your team is lagging by two shots. They were all determined to prove their worth, though, and when Taekwoon turned on the jets, the game really started. He ended up assisting on three goals and scoring one in the entire match, earning him a clap on the back from his coach and captain alike because now they were in the lead, and that looked good to the press. Hometown heroes, a lot of them were; just silly children with dreams of making it in the big leagues. Every sport had its politics, however, and Taekwoon knew better than to disregard that fact.

“You and Sungmin really made it for us tonight, you know,” Jinsoo praises him later, when the stands are clearing out and it’s only the two of them left in the locker room to change out of their uniforms. “You don’t need to be playing with us lowly folks in this tier.”

“Then who would I smack around?” Taekwoon snorts, throwing his perspiration-soaked shorts at the defenceman and earning a spluttering sound from the other man. He grins. They were all riding the high of their victory, it seemed, because a win on the first game always felt good. They could expect their rivals to come back with a fury, though, and that was the best part. Always a new challenge, always something new to divert Taekwoon’s attention.

“More like ‘who would deal with your angsty teen whiny ways’?Drinks later? Yeonseok was telling me coach is buying first round. Besides, saw you got that babysitter. Now you can actually have a good time.”

The freezing of Taekwoon’s shoulders had nothing to do with Jaehwan being mentioned, he told himself.

“I’d like to head home, actually. I want to help Minyul with some homework,” he fibs easily. It was a bad skill to have, really, being able to make up an excuse so easily at the expense of his kid. Still…

��Alright, alright. I dunno the parent life, so you got me there. Anyway,” Jinsoo raises from his position, balling up Taekwoon’s shorts before chucking them with terrific speed at his friend’s head. “If you change your mind, I’ll text you the name of the place, how about that? Thought I saw Minyul trying to start a scrimmage before we came in here, too, and that’s waaay more interesting than you right now. Peace.”

Taekwoon shakes his head at Jinsoo walks his way backwards out of the room, performing a ludicrously cheesy spin on his heel before disappearing behind the wall. The sound of the swinging door pushing open reverberates, and then Taekwoon is alone. Finally time to let out a long breath, to actually take a real breath in.

His moment of serenity is short- lived, because too soon the door is opening again, only, the person who comes through is not who he would have expected to see.

“Oh!” Jaehwan jumps along with his exclamation, holding the collar of his yellow shirt out away from his chest where Taekwoon can see a red liquid stain blossoming.

“Are you alright?” Dad Instincts activate, concern riddling Taekwoon’s voice as he springs into action. He has a little boy, his first thought is blood.

“Y-yeah, it just spilled on me…” Jaehwan’s voice is small, more quiet than usual, and Taekwoon sees there’s uneasiness behind his actions. Most likely because Taekwoon had become very close to him very quickly.

“There should be… I have an extra shirt,” the football player recalls, turning his body to dig through the bag left on the bench beside him. “There isn’t really… We all just change in front of each other, so unless you want to find the washrooms…” Taekwoon trails off, attempting to find an escape route. “Actually, I’ll just wait outside for you, alright?”

A nod from the other man staring at Taekwoon’s shoulder, so the shirt is pressed into Jaehwan’s open palm and Taekwoon steps around the body to emerge into the open field. Only, he forgets his bag, his reflexes betraying him because he doesn’t think before reversing to retrieve the item.

And that’s when Taekwoon sees them. With Jaehwan’s bare flesh presented to him, although without the asparas’ knowledge, the haphazard array of angry white lines scarring the tan-tinted skin. They ran up the side of his body like a flame, licking hungrily even in their frozen state to permanently mangle the fae’s form. They were beautiful, in a horrific sort of way, and Taekwoon wasn’t able to stop the gaping of his mouth as his mind tried to register just what he was looking at. What could have possibly made a mark like that?

The clearing of Jaehwan’s throat is what he hears next, and Taekwoon startles at the sound, his eyes focusing on a spot on the floor as he dips his head shamefully. Even if Jaehwan hadn’t meant for Taekwoon to see the -they had to have come from a fire. It was the only thing that would make sense- pattern extending from Jaehwan’s ribs to his left hip, he shouldn’t have reacted that way.

“Yeah, they’re pretty bad. They don’t hurt, though, and it actually looks kind of cool, don’t you think?” Comes Jaehwan’s cheery voice, and Taekwoon winces internally, chancing a glance up at the fae whose resolve seemed to waver just about as much as his mood; which was never.

“Y-Yeah, it looks cool. Like a… Tattoo?” The soccer player tentatively responds, going along with Jaehwan because maybe something like that was normal in the realm of the FaeFolk. It wasn’t like Taekwoon was an expert on such things. Anyway, the other man seemed to relax at Taekwoon’s statement, so hopefully they were heading into safer territory now.

Jaehwan finished with slipping the loose t-shirt over his frame, covering the large patch of tarnished flesh with the cotton mass and flashing a smile at the football player now rooted to the spot. The longer Taekwoon spent around him, the more of an enigma Jaehwan was.

“It’s kind of like a tattoo, but one that you get if you’re not very good at your job. Or if you piss a high- seated fucker off. Or if someone just really doesn’t like you,” he continues nonchalantly- he being the asparas moving to sit on the locker room bench- his hands clasping with fingers folding together in front of him as his stare levels into one that’s blank. He was looking intensely at something that Taekwoon couldn’t, and didn’t want, to see. “I know you enough to know that you won’t ask, but I guess I should tell you. Just like you didn’t have a say in taking me in, I didn’t get to deny coming. Kinda funny how that works. If anything, I think They saw what you did and thought to themselves ‘gee, I bet he’d be a good guy to let Kalan off to.”

Taekwoon wasn’t going to stop Jaehwan at this point. There was a little voice in the back of his head telling him not to, that Minyul would be well looked after for a few more minutes by his teammates if no one else, so he takes the opportunity to sit slowly on the opposite end of the bench, ready to listen.

The shaky breath that Jaehwan lets out signifies that this is hard for him. There was always the underlying assumption Taekwoon had that no being could be as happy as Jaehwan seemed to be all the time (sans the last few weeks). Of course he would be hiding behind a facade of bright behaviour.

“I have a sister. She’s part of the Diamae sect, too, but she’s not a troublemaker like me. She looked out for me a lot even though she’s younger than me. Human families and Fae families are really similar like that.” Whether or not he intended to, the asparas started to smile. “Her name is Mavis because she has a really nice singing voice. She taught me how to sing. She said that it would help me to control my ‘mischievous nature’.” A trembling of his bottom lip and then Jaehwan is blinking, as though coming back to the present with a new clarity shining in his deep brown orbs. He actually turns to look at Taekwoon now, probably because he knows that Taekwoon is trapped under the spell of those eyes every time they’re laid on him. “They sent me to you to get me out of their hair, and now I can’t go back to her. But, that’s OK. Minyul is here, and you aren’t even that bad, either. I know you saw me that day in the park, because I was thinking to myself that being around you wouldn’t be as awful as everyone who was sent to the wosh realm made it out to be. But, I can’t help thinking that it would be easier for you if I wasn’t here anymore. You two are really… You’re all I have right now. The only reason I would want to go back is for her, anyway.”

When Jaehwan is silent for a few moments, Taekwoon knows that it’s his turn to speak, but he had no idea what to say. Encouraging Jaehwan would be cruel, he thought, since he was essentially contracted under the human now in an agreement neither of them had made the regulations to. The world could be cruel, and Jaehwan was still regarding Taekwoon with the same look as before, with that small smile still on his lips.

Attempting to speak resulted in a hushed noise sounding from Taekwoon’s throat, and he has to lick his lips before he can start again. He hopes that Jaehwan can see the truth in his words even if they were reflected in his eyes.

“If I had to be stuck with any creature that wasn’t human, I’m glad that it’s you.” (Wow, that was really lame, Taekwoon. Way to sound like a bad drama protagonist, he chides himself internally as he bites down nervously on his tongue.) “Minyul likes you, probably even loves you. That kid feels hard. And… I like having you here. Around. Even if you sometimes make me want to pull my hair out.” There was no way he was making the situation better, but Taekwoon couldn’t seem to stop the words from falling from his mouth. Jaehwan is looking at him with parted lips now and Taekwoon is sure that the furrow of his brow is from confusion, but even as he’s rambling, Jaehwan is moving closer. Inch by inch he was moving closer, until Jaehwan’s impish face is mere centimeters from Taekwoon’s and the nonsense coming from him had hushed to a murmur of unintelligible sounds before eventually ceasing entirely. Jaehwan was very close now; so close that Taekwoon can see golden flecks spastically decorating the irises of the fae’s eyes. They almost glowed, imbuing Taekwoon with an odd sense of astonishment. He was comfortably held in place by the stare, and in the next instant, he can feel the soft exhale of Jaehwan’s breath on his face. If the thundering of his heart pounding in his ears weren’t so loud, he might have heard the door to the locker room swinging open, but it took the bang of the door hitting the wall just inside the room for Taekwoon to spring into action. He jumped, and the moment was broken, Jaehwan leaning back and crossing his ankles as he looked expectantly in the direction of the short hallway separating the inner room from the door.

“Yo!” Jinsoo shouts, raising a hand in greeting to the two men sitting on the benches as his angular head rounds the corner. “Minyul’s challenging Kyung to a match. You wanna come out and watch your star nephew kick some professional soccer player ass?”

“You bet we do!” Jaehwan answers for Taekwoon, already up from his seat and Taekwoon might have been offended, but he wasn’t. He stands with creaking joints, feeling much older than his 25 -almost 26- years and thinking there were things much too ancient for him to be pondering over, but maybe he should be asking more about Jaehwan and less of him. They had only known one another for three months, anyway.

It isn’t until they’re back in the cozy apartment suite that they call home that the topic comes up again, and it’s when Minyul is in the washroom brushing his teeth while Taekwoon and Jaehwan just happen to be lounging in the kitchen waiting for their turns to get ready for the night. The man who broaches the subject isn’t even Taekwoon; it’s the fae sitting somewhat nervously on one of the bar stools beside the island, wringing his wrists together in front of him in visible uneasiness.

“I didn’t tell you all that so you’d feel bad for me!” He splutters when Taekwoon is reaching into a cupboard to grab a glass to fill with water. The soccer player pauses in his action, turning his head to look full-on at the man suffering in his vexation. The arm previously raised lowers, devoid of any cup, to splay its fingers out on the counter-top level to Taekwoon’s waist. There is no audio indication that Minyul would be out of the bathroom anytime soon, and so this would be as good a time as ever to confront the demons Taekwoon knew now plagued the normally jolly-tempered man.

“I didn’t think you had,” Taekwoon murmurs, his tone the softest - the one he used when Minyul accidentally scraped his knee or bumped his elbows against something hard- as he rounds the side of the island to slide into the empty seat beside Jaehwan. The black cushion of the chair did little to stop the chill of the metal frame beneath from seeping into Taekwoon’s skin, but he would live.

The man beside him is acting unlike Taekwoon had ever seen of him before, with nervous glances at the human from the corner of his eyes setting Taekwoon on edge. First, he would try to calm Jaehwan down. There was no doubt he might be feeling some insecurity after the confession from before, and Taekwoon wouldn’t judge him for that.

Yet again, the asparas takes Taekwoon by surprise though, when, in a terribly accurate Heath- Ledger- as- The- Joker impression, Jaehwan huffs out a “wanna know how I got these scars?” as if to set a happier mood to the conversation. If he hadn’t gone through years of being an uncle to an unpredictable young boy, Taekwoon might not have been able to keep in his laughter. Instead he wondered how Jaehwan figured out the means to watch The Dark Knight on his television in English considering Taekwoon didn’t own it and there was no pay-per-view option for his cable plan. (He would later toss and turn, thinking of the many possibilities to achieve such a thing before realizing that Jaehwan must have hacked into his laptop somehow to stream films.)

“I would… Appreciate if you told me. But, you shouldn’t feel like you have to. I’m sure it’s very personal.” Despite the times that the fae had driven him crazy, Taekwoon knew there was a limit to what he could ask of the man -creature- in his home.

He seemed to have said the right thing, because the tension in Jaehwan’s shoulders begins to fade, even though he is looking at the doorway to the kitchen and now refusing to meet Taekwoon’s wondering gaze. Taekwoon decided that he did not like, at all, when the fae got like this; it made him too unreachable.

“I told you, I got into a lot of trouble when I was littler. It’s not the same as here -people have no time or patience for the young folk- and when you don’t really have anyone to keep you in line except for some stuffy old Elders you’re supposed to look up to and cherish every waking second of the day from the day you can speak onward, it starts to feel like some BS,” the blond starts to ramble, the start of an electrifying current beginning to form in the air. Taekwoon takes a chance and rests one of his hands on Jaehwan’s, the one currently tapping a finger progressively more rapidly against the linoleum counter.

“Parents and stuff, that’s this world things, really human things. Well, I guess even the animals have got those, too, but where I come from, you take after the people around you. A community, really, who raises you and tells you what you’re supposed to be like and then what you’re GOING to be like. You don’t get a choice. They divided us into sects based on how we got along with the other FaeFolk, and I just happened to be placed in Diamae because I showed some potential. They called it potential, anyway.

“The Diamae heads, though, they didn’t really like that I was there. Probably because Grenog -that’s a great name, Grenog- never believed I had what it took. I was kinda… What’s that movie we saw the other day? Aladdin? I guess I was kinda like that ‘riff-raff’ ‘cause I was loud and stuff.” He takes a breath now, the unbroken speech too much for his (human-like) lungs before continuing.

“I was just lucky that my sister was in my sect, too. Everyone liked Mavis a lot, and none of them thought we were actually related. I heard them all talk about how she must have just taken me in as a brother figure because she was so nice -and she is nice. The nicest creature in the whole universe. She’d love Minyul a lot, I think. The Elders looked at her like she was a star, and she always made sure to meet all of their expectations, not because she wanted to all the time, but because she knew if she didn’t that I would be the one blamed.

“There’s one thing that humans and FaeFolk have in common, though,” and Jaehwan’s raw eyes (Taekwoon certainly wasn’t imagining it now; there was definitely something sparkling in them) land on the human beside him. Said human under the spell of the story, his shoulders leaning in to soak in the information even without his knowledge. “We feel things the same. Emotions and physical pain. We could make music like humans can because we needed it to keep us sane. But, it does sound different. When you guys sing, there are some who use those weird things to make their voices unnatural. That’s interesting, but it’s not really that beautiful to me.”

So what if Jaehwan lost himself on some tangents? Taekwoon was nodding his head rhythmically to the beat of his words. Melodic.

“I used to make music that they didn’t like, and they didn’t want me to sing, either. Mavis could sing, though, a lot better than I can. They wanted her to sing just for them, and I think that’s why they hated me so much; because she was always with me, and if she was with me, she wasn’t with them. I liked taking her from them, though. It made me feel powerful, like I had something the Elders couldn’t take away from me. I guess I should’ve known that they’d do something to get back at me for it.”

A vague knowledge of Jaehwan turning his hand over to grip onto Taekwoon’s comes over the soccer player, and he squeezes down in what he hopes is a consoling manner to the trembling digits. Queue the tragic backstory he might never tell Jaehwan.

“They got their opportunity when Mavis was called out for, I guess you might call it two weeks time here, her duty. There was a group of gialltravelers who were granted access to our realm and she was meant to lead them. She was basically a messenger, but she was also one of the most trusted Diamae, and she had to watch them to make sure they didn’t interfere with our way of life too much. The Elders warned us all the time that humans destroyed their own worlds and so we couldn’t trust them not to harm ours.

“Anyway, she was gone so I was basically in the Diamae sect alone because we still had places where we could live, like houses and stuff, but not like this. More like… We like flowers a lot, so usually it’s based off of those and we try to make them out of pretty stuff. Mavis really likes dandelions because she can stew them.

“They started to watch me really close for those two weeks, and I knew they would, but I was stupid and I started doing dumb things just to deliberately make them mad. I wanted them to know that I hated being around them just as much as they hated having me. It’s not a nice feeling, you know? Not a nice fucking feeling at all. I took the people who were actually rooting for me for granted, too, because there were people I cared about there. I don't think I could ever show my face to them after that, though, after what they did. Well… You saw.”

If nothing else, Taekwoon admired Jaehwan’s tenacity. It was clear that he wanted to tell someone his tale, and Taekwoon was humbled to be the one who heard it.

“I ended up hearing something I shouldn’t have. Where the Elders are is like a private place, I guess you could compare it to how there’s a president here. They’re in control of a lot to keep everyone happy and in line, and when there’s Defects… They called me that. I was a Defect, and so they had to deal with me properly. I used to sneak into the place all the time, and I just happened to hear something I shouldn’t have, so they had a reason to.. To…”

He can’t seem to go on after that, and there’s something that breaks in Taekwoon’s heart when he sees the utter despair present in Jaehwan’s expression. He takes the smaller man by the shoulders, bringing him close to Taekwoon’s chest as the tears that Jaehwan had been making a desperate attempt to keep at bay finally spilled over his eyelids to leave clear liquid tracks down his cheeks. Taekwoon noticed the shaking of the fae’s shoulders even though the asparas was clearly reluctant to make a sound. Taekwoon decided not to mention it.

The passage of time wasn’t clear until the sound of a running faucet in the bathroom suddenly ceased and Taekwoon looked at the digital clock on the microwave across the kitchen. The bright glowing green numbers told him it had been only ten minutes since Jaehwan began speaking. Somewhere, he thinks he hears a clock chime.

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

His Sister (Stan)(part 3)

A/n: This is so long but I LOVE it, so I hope you guys do too. side note: I suggest “Another One of Those Days” by Cavetown for this!

Word Count: 3900+

MASTERLIST

"This is annoying," Y/n complained as she picked at the bandage around her head. Richie reached over Stan to smack her hand and she glared at him.

The boy rolled his eyes. "Stop messing with it, Y/n, it's almost healed." She grunted but obeyed, leaving her hands at her side.

The twin's mumbles fell away as attention returned to Beverly, who had just finished her telling of everything that happened after they recapped all that It chaos. It had been a week or two and Bill had gathered them all together yet again to determine if It was really gone or not. From what Beverly had said, it seemed there could be a definite no, which struck a chord of fear in each of the Losers.

Bill stood. "Promise me. Promise me that if It comes back... so will we." He brandished a piece of glass and Y/n's eyes widened. Oh he meant like... promise promise, huh? Beverly stood and then Richie, which meant that Y/n stood too because she wasn't letting Richie anywhere near It without her. Then came Stan, Ben, Mike, and Eddie. Bill started with Y/n and when they locked eyes she sighed and then offered her hand. He took it gently, just having cut his own hand, and cut hers next. She flinched and sucked air in through her nose but otherwise kept her vision of strength up. Bill continued and she looked at her hand as the blood pooled in her palm, thinking of the blood that had been crusted in her hair for hours after the It incident. She thought of Stan walking her into the hospital because he was the most rational and easiest for adults to trust because he wasn't shy, spastic, hard to understand, had a bad reputation, or was bad at lying. How he guided her, hand on her back as he flagged someone down, his voice calm and smooth and soothing.

When Bill finished, he dropped the piece of glass and everyone took hands. Y/n grabbed Stan’s hand and then Bill’s, wincing at the feeling of blood smearing between their palms and fingers. When Stan interlaced fingers with her, Y/n looked over at him and he smiled. Just a little one, shy and shaky and broken. Maybe even a little forced. But a smile that pulled the corners of Y/n’s mouth up in a similar expression that came in a smaller portion. Stan looked forward again and so did the Tozier girl. As they dropped hands, the promise sealed and the horror hopefully in the past, Stan declared, “I hate you guys.”

Laughter, as light and weak as Stan’s smile had been, echoed and Y/n took her cue. “I’ll see you guys later, I gotta go.” She waved to Richie, who nodded back, and then headed to her bike. She straddled it, almost reaching for her bandage again before sighing and shaking her head, about to mount it before someone appeared in front of her.

Hands on Y/n’s bike handlebars and feet planted firmly, Stan stood there as if a superhero stopping a train. The girl’s eyes widened as she was startled and Stan caught his breath, obviously having just stopped running. “Wait.” She paused obediently, silent and watching him as he took another second before asking, “Are you staying?”

Y/n was confused. “What?”

He looked awkward, shuffling and kicking the grass at his feet. “When school starts again. Are you... are you leaving? Like usual?”

There was something in his eyes that startled Y/n and she couldn’t even be upset by the implications as she simply nodded, genuinely unsure how to handle his panicked earnest. Satisfied, he relaxed. He then realized how wild he looked and calmed into his usual self, stepping away from the bike and dropping his hands by his sides. “Sorry.”

The Tozier girl smiled, chuckling softly. “You’re fine. Some questions must be answered.” He looked up, smiling as well, and they both started laughing. It was lively and full even though it was quiet. Y/n felt a weight lift off of her shoulders as she hopped up on her bike.

His smile didn’t falter. “I’ve missed you Thing Two.”

Y/n’s heart exploded in her chest and she blushed. It felt... weird, the way he said it. Not like how Bill or Richie or Eddie had said they missed her. Not like how Ben and Bev had called her Thing Two. It was like- like he was flirting with her. The lilt in his voice that made Y/n’s body set on fire and the way his eyes started at my feet and then flickered to my face as he sort of looked at her through his eyelashes. Could this boy drive her any crazier? “I’ve missed you too, Stan the Man.” And then, after a second, she settled her foot on the bike pedal and pushed. Immediately she was off, trying not to be overly aware of the feeling of his eyes on her back as she did so.

-

Freshman year was the year for forgetting It and moving on. It was hard to say goodbye to Beverly, but not long after she left, school started and everyone got busy. It was upsetting when Beverly stopped answering their letters and returning their calls, but they eventually got the hint. When school picked back up again, they were distracted altogether. There was sort of a... panic.

As if no time had passed at all and she hadn’t ignored Y/n for three entire months, Greta waited for Y/n just inside the high school doors. Y/n knew she was waiting because she went from leaning against the lockers and looking bored and irritated to standing and lowering her dropping, lazy eyes on Y/n as she approached. Greta seemed surprised to see the Losers with Y/n but otherwise seemed to think there was nothing new going on. Y/n felt the boys tense behind her and she held her books tighter to her chest and stuck her chin out, her eyes narrowing in determination as a sense of nausea settled into her middle. She could go back. She could be safe from bullies and be in power again. She could be strong and untouchable and breakable...

But, she wasn’t. She never had been any of those things, she just lied to herself that she was. She wasn’t a bad person. Her and Greta weren’t friends. The Losers were her friends. Her family. SHE was a Loser. So, despite how much it scared her to throw the gauntlet down and start war between her and Greta, Y/n did it. Y/n ignored her, walking right past. An audible gasp sounded and Y/n flinched, but Richie was at her side to block her from Greta’s sight so that the moment of weakness went unnoticed.

Day two was worse, because Greta wasn’t in the same place as she was yesterday. She was just inside so that the Losers had enough time to get up the steps and a little inside and think they were home free before Y/n saw Greta and the dread settled back into her stomach. Today she had her backpack full of the books she’d carried yesterday and now she had nothing to grab, so her hands balled into fists until her knuckles were white. She saw someone step up next to her in her peripheral vision and the back of a hand bumped into hers. She looked over and saw Stan, her face coloring a bit pink. He smiled reassuringly, his fingers brushing against her skin. She loosened her fist and he took her hand, interlacing their fingers and then squeezing it reassuringly. It made her insides - which had been an icy wasteland as people looked at her and Greta sneered quietly - into a warm, tropical paradise; it showed on her face as she grinned. It showed in her body as she relaxed, her steps coming with a little bounce now. Stan blushed. Stanley Uris BLUSHED.

Eddie and Bill exchanged knowing looks, both smirking as they noticed every detail of the exchange. Richie, who was talking to Ben, missed it entirely. Ben got the general idea but was distracted by Richie’s ranting. Stan and Y/n didn’t stop holding hands until they got to class. Mike wasn’t there because he was still home schooled, but when Eddie went off about it later, he and Ben went back and forth about what they thought for quite some time.

The rest of the year went along those lines, with Stan taking plenty of time with Y/n. He let things go slow and with time came bonding and healing and a healthy, happy relationship grew between them. Nothing official, though. Not yet. The summer after freshman year brought a lot more than just weekends spent with Mike, where Bill quickly learned that the feelings he’d started to develop for the rarely seen boy was more than the love and care he felt for his family and friends. That summer was crazy, with Ben starting to fall in the most silly kind of love with every girl that moved. Other than Y/n. Richie started to flirt with Eddie instead of just insulting his mom. Bill and Mike kissed at the end of the summer.

Sophomore year was for being healed, moving on, forgetting, and starting anew. As if the summer of IT had never happened, the Losers continued with Bill and Mike getting together, Eddie beginning to flirt back with Richie, and Ben getting his first girlfriend. With all of the swimming and bike riding they did over the summer, Ben had lost a little weight and had gotten a tan none of the other boys seemed to be able to. Stan and Y/n’s flirting also became much more physical, with bumping shoulders and touching thighs and a lot more hand holding, fingers brushing, cuddling, and physical teasing (picking Y/n up and spinning her around, jumping on Stan’s back when he wasn’t expecting it, etc.). At that point, everyone at school got the point: the Losers Club was coupling up.

Ben broke up with his girlfriend by the end of the year and Richie and Eddie got together. The summer between sophomore year and junior year, things between Stan and Y/n rose in tension until it seemed to the others that they were taking it too slow. Richie finally took his eyes off of Eddie long enough to notice the extreme chemistry between his best friend and sister and - after a long session of grilling Bill - went off on Stan because apparently the boy wasn’t good enough for Y/n. Y/n interrupted the session, demanding to know just who was good enough for her. When Richie couldn’t come up with anything, the conversation ended.

But the seconds that had stretched where Stan had thought that Richie genuinely had someone in mind that would be better for Y/n than him had made him realize how much it threw him into utter panic to think about her with absolutely anyone else other than himself. If Richie was right then he was a sucker for waiting so long and if Eddie was right all his sucking would make him lose the girl... well he just couldn’t let that happen.

So, on a Thursday evening after he had dropped her off at home and then turned around after almost leaving because no, he WAS going to do this, Stanley Uris knocked on Y/n Tozier’s door with the kind of anxious, nervous, shaky, wild confidence that border-lined the purest kind of panic. When she opened it, she was surprised to see him there, but before she could question it, he blurted out, “Will you go on a date with me?”

Y/n’s froze, eyes wide and lips parted to speak even though the words had completely withered away to nothing in her throat. After an (awkward) pause, she managed, “Yeah.” She more gasped than spoke but the second she said it they both light up like a Christmas tree. “I would love to, Stan.” This she said with more conviction, easing the both of them.

He was giddy. “Perfect. Then I’ll see you tomorrow night? 6?” She nodded. “Movie and dinner,” he added. “That- if you need to know what to dress for, um, that’s what I was planning on doing. Unless you wanted to do something else?”

The girl giggled. “That sounds perfect.”

He nodded, choosing to close his mouth before he said anything else that would ruin his chances, and stepped away from the door. “See you tomorrow.”

She chuckled. “See you tomorrow, Stan.” And he was gone.

Until the following night, when he showed up at 6pm on the dot, fiddling with the flower in between his hands as he knocked on the door, waiting a second before the panic settled in. He was wearing a collared short sleeve shirt and a jacket (more for her, because he hoped he would get the chance to give it to her) and jeans. The jeans were the thing. When had he ever wore jeans? Was a collared shirt and jeans an acceptable outfit? Was he dressed up too much just for a movie and a diner dinner with the shirt? Was he too dressed down for a date with the jeans? Oh gosh why was he sweating so much? Would she think it was gross? Would it make her avoid touching him? Would he stink? Why was it suddenly so hot and hard to breathe?

The door opened and Stan almost gasped in relief, but held in it and just let a slow breath out through his nose to calm his already racing heart. Richie stood there this time and the Trashmouth paused before shaking his head and turning back to the inside of the house, screaming, “Y/N! YOUR... DATE IS HERE! OR WHATEVER!” He turned back to Stan, smacking his lips with an expression like he’d just bitten something bitter. There was a pause and then Richie muttered, “You hurt her and I break you.”

Stan almost busted up laughing, half because he was nervous and half because the idea of Richie attacking him and Stan having to fight back was the most ridiculous thing to ever come to mind. He resisted the urge by a serious miracle and responded far more at ease than he felt. “I would never.” Richie seemed about to go off again but was interrupted.

Like an angel sent by God, Y/n slipped under Richie’s arms and sidled next to Stan, their shoulders bumping as she grabbed his hand, interlacing their fingers and reaching over to grab his bicep with her other hand, gently tugging him after her as she walked away from her older brother. Stan’s face light up immediately and she called a far too cheery, “Thanks Richie love you! See you later!” Over her shoulder.

Stan finally let loose his bottled up laugh, quietly so only she could hear. Richie screamed back at her, finally catching up with the change of situation. “BE HOME BY MIDNIGHT OR I SWEAR, Y/N!”

The girl rolled eyes but smiled, replying, “I KNOW TRASHMOUTH OR I’LL BE DEAD!”

“NO, YOUR BOYFRIEND WILL BE!” As the couple began to walk away, both blushing at what Richie had said, he called out a last, “AND IT’LL BE ALL YOUR FAULT.” They were finally too far and Richie huffed, going back inside the house and slamming the door closed.

Finally free of her brother, Y/n giggle. “Sorry about that.” Her hands held him tightly and Stan was glad that he had chosen to walk. He had chosen to come when he had so it would give him leeway to take all the time he wanted. Stan liked slow. He liked taking his time. Walking allowed them to talk more and the setting sun was threatening to fall into nothingness, the promise of chill coming near. It also meant that Stan didn’t have to let go of Y/n, keeping her close and feeling her hand in his- just how he liked it.

Fittingly, they did talk. A lot. They talked about Richie and how annoying he was, both of them laughing quite loudly. Stan noticed that she hadn’t brought a jacket and he wondered if she had done it as purposefully as he had brought one or if it was just a thing girls did, not bringing jackets. They talked about school coming soon, junior year looming now that summer was coming to an end and all it meant- the beginning of the end. Y/n noticed how the light from the moon and the stars and street lights light up Stan’s face and filtered through his hair and she wondered how it would feel to run her hands through his brown curls.

They made it to the movie, sitting in the back and growing silent as they watched. She still held his hand so he couldn’t wrap his arm round her, but she lay her head on his shoulder so he thought that was just as good as he lay his head on top of hers. After the movie they went to dinner, Y/n going on and on about the movie, over analyzing it and ranting about all the details he had missed while admiring the way the colors and light from the screen reflected in her eyes and the way awe looked on her face as she got more into the scenes he just couldn’t focus on, more than he had ever seen anyone else get into an imaginary world with fake people enduring things that had never happened. They ate, the tops of their feet tapping each other’s so that their toes bumped together again and again, smiling around each of their bites of food.

The diner was open for quite a while but they couldn’t stay there forever. Stan had a plan for this too though and he took her hand, pulling her after him. “You didn’t think I was pulling you out of your house on a Friday night just to go to a movie and dinner did you?” He asked, smiling. She trusted him but still found herself getting nervous, especially when they walked back to his house. He guided them to his car. “I like walking,” he explained softly. “But I figure we can sit in here until you have to go home.”

Y/n shivered a little. “Yeah,” she confirmed. “That’s fine. Let’s just get in, tonight was colder than I thought it would be.” She smiled sheepishly, her free hand rising to rub the back of her neck.

Stan saw his chance and took it. Dropping her hand, he began taking off his jacket. “Oh, here.” He wrapped it around her shoulders before she could protest.

Her face blew up with red and she chuckled softly, her smile brilliantly bright and painfully wide in that way only he could make it. “Thank you, Stan.” He opened the door for her and she slipped in, settling before he closed it again. Stan walked around, hands in his pocket and smile on his face as he thought about how well the night had gone by so far. When he got into the driver’s seat, it was quiet.

“Stan?”

“Yeah?”

Y/n looked over at the boy and he looked back, Y/n’s sudden nervousness making Stan jumpy too. “Tonight was really great,” she began and Stan didn’t interrupt because she was definitely going somewhere with this. “And I’m glad we have more time to spend together. Honestly I don’t want this night to end, ya know?” She laughed to fill the space as Stan nodded. “I... I just, I really like you.” She looked up, their eyes meeting as she surged forward with sudden courage neither of them could place the source of. “Earlier, when Richie called you my boyfriend. I know he was being his usual self but it- it felt right? And this is like, date one and we’ve been going so slow so I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to but I kind of... well, I wondered if you felt the same? About us?”

Us. Stan couldn’t explain how wonderful that made him feel, that word. “I feel exactly the same,” he mumbled. “You- you make me nervous. And at first that kinda scared me so I tried to slow down because I didn’t want to ruin it when it felt so fragile but-“ He didn’t know where this was coming from. He LIKED slow. Didn’t he? “Honestly, I’m just ready to skip the pleasantries.”

They both laughed, and then Y/n got a wild look in her eyes and she leaned forward, catching his lips in hers. If holdings hands and flirting and blushing and giggling and pushing each other around was fire, the feeling they had now was a star exploding, an atom bomb going off. It was incineration as they melted from the inside out, turning to soft, warm puddles of two humans hopelessly into each other. Y/n reached up, running her fingers through his hair, pleased beyond everything that it was as nice as she imagined it would be. He reached down, gripping her waist with one hand and her face with the other.

Heaven above that kiss was amazing. It wasn’t perfect or magical or wild but it was warm and sweet and they both loved it. The future would eventually show them just how good kissing could be when you really knew what you were doing and who you were doing it with, but for now, this was wonderful.

After the kiss, they lay back on their chairs, holding hands on the center consul and not talking. Eventually Y/n looked at Stan, admiring him and thinking about how lucky she had gotten to not have only fallen for one of her best friends, but to have him feel the same. To have come so far and fixed so much so that she could be so happy now, compared to how alone and miserable she’d been only two years before. Stan looked over at some point too and their eyes met. They smiled at each other.

Stan’s watch went off, alerting him that it was time to take Y/n home and they both sat up, dropping hands so that Stan could start the car and start driving before he reached for her again and she obliged. He stopped at her house, getting out, going around, and then helping her out. He walked her to her door where they paused.

“My parents are asleep,” she reasoned. “But Richie isn’t.” She giggled, grabbing his collar to tug him down to her so they could kiss again. His hands both went to her waist this time and they smiled into the moment. The porch lights flickered and they parted, laughing. “Goodnight,” Y/n whispered.

“Goodnight,” Stan returned. They finally parted and she left a last kiss on his cheek before opening the door, waving to him to draw out the moment just a little longer. He waved back, moving to his car and then driving home half in a daze. He had gotten her home on time, though, so Richie couldn’t bitch or moan.

Neither Y/n or Stan could fall asleep that night, far too wired and dreamy to do much more than stare at the ceiling and smile.

[carmenlire]

Higher than the Big Trees Ch. 34

read chapter one

read on ao3

Like Father, Like Son: The Apple Didn’t Fall Far from the Scheming Tree

Byline: Victor Aldertree

Magnus Bane, son of notorious Asmodeus Bane, who is currently serving thirty seven years in state prison for defrauding his clients and shareholders of over one billion dollars in assets, has been spotted out on the town with music’s darling, Alec Lightwood.

Is it love, though, or has Magnus just found a different way to make his fortune?

Dear reader, we at Idris News love good gossip and when a source close to Bane came forward to tell us about the hottest tip in town, we couldn’t resist.

It appears that Magnus Bane, professor at Columbia University, has been hiding an unsavory past.

An insider reveals all. To protect her privacy, she asked that we not reveal her name.

Let’s start the story with one Magnus Bane. Born and raised in Manhattan-- on the upper West Side-- Magnus is the son to notorious swindler Asmodeus Bane.

Bane, who is infamous for his unbelievably successful ponzi scheme that stretched over twenty years.

Asmodeus Bane was a wall street broker from 1980 to his long tumble from his gold-plated pedestal in 2004. Considered far and wide to be a charismatic man, Bane Sr. was a shark on Wall Street, known for having a bloodhound’s nose, always sniffing out the Next Big Thing.

Most accredited his success to sheer luck and hard work.

No one knew that he was swindling coworkers and clients alike out of savings accounts, retirement plans, and talking up potential investments that would become a long string of proverbial gold mines in the Old West.

No one knows for certain just how much money Asmodeus Bane absconded with when all is said and done. Working for twenty years afforded him connections and a sharpened sense of when the chips were about to fall. There were dozens of accomplices and just as many scapegoats as Bane kept his nose clean even as those closest to him were caught and indicted.

Bernie Madoff who? Some estimates have Bane’s scheming amounting to over one billion dollars, most of which has never been recovered.

In 2000, the FDIC launched an investigation with the White Collar division of the FBI. After four years, they accumulated enough evidence to formally arrest Asmodeus Bane of over one hundred counts of fraud and embezzlement. After his lengthy trial-- which was a media circus in and of itself-- Bane was sentenced to 53 years in New York’s State Penitentiary.

Due to good behaviour, that sentence has been reduced to thirty seven years with the possibility of parole after ten more years.

Which brings us to his son, Magnus.

Magnus Bane, now an esteemed faculty member of Columbia University, wasn’t always so sparkling clean.

No, our source reveals that Bane Jr. has quite the sordid juvenile record.

Literally.

Magnus Bane was arrested half a dozen times for petty crime between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, when his record was officially sealed. Our intrepid reporters were able to find the dirty details, though.

After Asmodeus’s incarceration, Bane became part of the foster system where he bounced from home to home in the city. His mother died just a few years after giving birth and growing up, Magnus looked up to Asmodeus as only a son can look up to his father.

By all reports, Magnus was a model student-- at least on paper. That didn’t stop him from regularly skipping class or getting up to no good.

Looking at Bane’s record reveals charges for petty larceny, vandalism, and underage possession. And that’s the mere tip of the iceberg.

Things certainly don’t look good for Magnus, do they?

Still, something changed and Magnus took his SATS, graduated summa cum laude and headed for greener pastures-- Yale as a matter of fact, where he completed his undergraduate degree in three years before moving on to his doctoral thesis, spending part of that time in London.

Magnus Bane will be thirty in just a few months and things have never looked better for him-- he’s the Chair of the History Department at an Ivy League Institution, he’s been published dozens of times and is regularly invited to speak at conferences, both domestic and abroad.

We’ve even heard that he’s been busy working on a new book with an anticipated Summer 2019 release.

But that’s not all. Magnus Bane has been spotted out on the town with Alec Lightwood, the hottest musician in the world right now who just wrapped up a sold out world tour in May.

By most estimates, Lightwood is worth an astonishing 300 million dollars.

That begs the question to any reporter worth their salt: What does Bane see in Alec?

It’s easy to see what could have captured Lightwood’s attention. Magnus is handsome (have you seen his Insta???), successful, and we’re sure charming as hell.

We bet he gets it from his father.

But does Magnus see Alec’s million watt smile and rugged good looks or does he see dollar signs flashing?

Does he see a man who would do anything for his fans or his next meal ticket?

Alec is talented-- he can sing, act, and is well-known for his philanthropic endeavors. Idris News has long since waited with bated breath for the biggest name in the music scene to find his perfect match.

We just didn’t want to see it happen like this.

Our inside source claims that things went cold between them when she refused to keep paying for Bane’s tuition in London. Apparently, the professor was in dire straights and like a good girlfriend, our source had wanted to help-- until it became too much.

As you can see from our photos, it looks like Magnus and Alec have been getting cozy for quite a while. Those pictures at the zoo are #couplegoals and don’t get us started on the two of them enjoying a romantic walk throughout the city.

Is Magnus in love? Are we witnessing a real life fairy tale or has Bane just duped Lightwood into becoming his naive sugar daddy in a move that would make his father proud?

It seems like a dream come true for an earnest professor to meet a polished celebrity. We just wonder if fate had a helping hand and if Alec isn’t being played for a fool.

Shame on you Magnus for breaking our golden boy’s heart. We’ve seen Alec through many a scandal dating back to his pre-album days and we’ve got to say that we aren’t impressed.

Or maybe we are. It certainly takes a certain je ne sais quois to pull off such a trick. Time will tell what’s truth or lie with Alec and Magnus and who wouldn’t miss a seat to potentially one of the biggest scandals this year.

Whatever the case, the staff at Idris can’t wait to see what happens next.

Magnus looks up from the glossy magazine at the knock on his door. He sends Ragnor a wan smile.

“I take it you’ve seen the news.”

Ragnor looks at the magazine like others would a vulture. “If you’re asking if I’ve read that piece of trash then, unfortunately, the answer is yes.” He’s quiet a moment, studying Magnus before asking in a gentle voice, “How are you doing?”

Magnus laughs and it’s a bitter, angry noise. “How do you think I’m doing. I woke up next to Alec feeling great enough to take on the world. I didn’t think I’d actually have to, though,” he says, shaking his head.

Ragnor’s gaze sharpens at the mention of Alec. “And have you talked to lover boy since the story broke?”

Shaking his head, Magnus sits back in his chair. He looks through his office window and everything seems the same. There are students milling about like zombies so early on a Monday morning and there’s the kid that’s always flying a kite in a dinosaur onesie.

On any other morning, it’d be more of the same.

Too bad that Magnus’s world has imploded.

“I left his place less than two hours ago,” Magnus says, gaze unseeing. “I only found out when I came to campus. I was passing the Student Center when their magazine stand caught my eye. I certainly didn’t expect to see myself on a cover.”

He chuckles humorlessly. “I haven’t been in a magazine since I was fifteen.”

“Is your career at risk?”

Magnus shoots him a look. “I have tenure so they can’t fire me, if that’s what you’re asking. Forget that I haven’t even done anything. No, I think I’d go so far as to say that I’ve just become the most sought after guest at conferences for the next little while. What is it they say? All publicity is good publicity?”

Ragnor is quiet and the silence starts grating on his nerves. He can’t believe how fast things went to shit, after all.

“Goddamnit,” Magnus mutters, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s bad enough that my past has come back to bite me in the ass. I always knew it would if I continued this thing with Alexander. What I can’t stand is that I wasn’t the one to tell him.”

Magnus looks at Ragnor, beseeching. “Alec had to find out that my dad’s a fucking con from someone else. From the press? From his PR team? It doesn’t matter-- all that matters is that I’ve probably ruined everything. Sometimes I hate my father so much I can taste it,” Magnus bitterly whispers and clenches his fist where it’s resting on the arm of his chair.

Taking a seat in front of Magnus’s desk, Ragnor takes his time thinking before looking up at Magnus. “What makes you so sure that you’ve ruined anything, friend? Surely if Alec is as great as you’ve been screeching about all this time then he won’t cast judgement so cavalierly?”

“What is there to judge? My dad is quite literally the worst crook Wall Street has ever seen. For Christ’s sake, his nickname is ‘The King of Wall Street.’ How does someone get that reputation,” Magnus demands before answering his own question. “They get it by being a cheat, by swindling hundreds and hundreds of people out of their money. Shit, he took savings from the elderly and college funds from middle-aged couples. He was a greedy bastard and he got what was coming to him.”

“That doesn’t mean that you should pay for what he did,” Ragnor says quietly. “You dad was a bastard. That shouldn’t reflect on you. If Alec is the man you say he is then he will see that, friend.”

“Yeah? And what if he doesn’t,” Magnus asks morosely.

“Then he doesn’t deserve you,” Ragnor snaps back impatiently. Magnus looks up to see Ragnor looking at him with fire in his eyes. “You’re a good man Magnus and I can’t stand that you let your father weigh you down like this.”

Magnus shoots him a dry look. “I think I’m incredibly well-adjusted for the shitstorm that was my adolescence.”

“Be that as it may, you’ve castigated yourself enough. I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you looked at Alec yesterday. From what I’ve seen, Lightwood seems like a decent enough man and anyone with eyes could see the way he’s smitten with you. I’m choosing-- shocking, I know-- to give the boy the benefit of the doubt.”

Thinking over Ragnor’s surprisingly impassioned speech, Magnus reaches for the phone on his desk on autopilot when it starts ringing.

“Bane,” he says, voice clipped.

“Dr. Bane, this is Elle Donovan from Celebrity Magazine--”

“No comment,” Magnus says coldly and hangs up without another word.

“The little parasites have already latched on to you,” Ragnor says easily.

Blowing out a breath, Magnus glares at the phone. “Goddamn rodents.”

“It looks like everything is out in the open now, at least. No matter how it was revealed, at least it’s no longer hanging over you and your relationship with Alec like a proverbial thundercloud.”

“You’re right,” Magnus drawls sarcastically. “Now instead of worrying about Alec’s reaction to learning about my past-- in which I envisioned that we would talk about things and, assuming he didn’t run as far away from me as he could get, we would sit down and formulate a plan to deal with the press-- I get to jump right to the inevitable break-up as well as deal with the fucking media frenzy at the same goddamn time.”

Ragnor raises a brow before standing and straightening his jacket. “I can see that you’re in no mood to listen to reason,” he sniffs. “I’ll leave you to your sulk and trust that you’ll deal with things without too much time spent crying into your damn hanky.”

“Like I have a choice,” Magnus mutters.

Ragnor ignores him. Making his way to the door of Magnus’s office, he spares a glance back.

“I know that this isn’t what you wanted and I know that you’ve been running from your past since the day you stepped foot onto Yale. I know that you had a bit of a misspent youth that’s easily forgiven. Alec makes you happy and I’d hate for you to end things before you even see what your boyfriend is thinking.

“As loathe as I am to admit it, there is rarely a silver lining that can’t be found. Talk to Alec and go from there. It doesn’t do anyone any good to decide the future before it’s even had a chance to play out. Talk to him,” Ragnor repeats and Magnus nods once.

“Thank you, Cabbage,” Magnus says softly.

Ragnor doesn’t say anything, just sends him one last piercing look before leaving Magnus’s office.

Sighing heavily, Magnus scrubs his hands over his face, makeup be damned. Looking at his clock, Magnus laughs a little incredulously that it’s still shy of eight in the morning.

He has class in half an hour and Magnus doesn’t even need to think about it before he’s opening an email and cancelling his classes for the day.

Just the thought of teaching to a room full of twenty year olds with such a white elephant hanging about ominously seems repulsive.

Standing, he picks up his bag-- that he hadn’t even had a chance to unpack-- and calls it a day, leaving his office and locking up.

He heads back to his apartment, hoping to fuck that he doesn’t run into anyone.

Magnus looks up from where he’d buried himself in work. The last of his revisions are due by the middle of August and he still has hundreds of pages to edit and review in the next two weeks.

Seeing that it’s late afternoon-- Magnus has successfully distracted himself for hours-- he stands, working out the kinks in his back from where he’s been bent pouring over his manuscript.

Looking through the peephole to ensure it’s not a particularly perseverent journalist, Magnus opens his door to see Cat and Madzie waiting in the hallway.

“Good afternoon. What are you two doing here,” he asks with an arched brow.

Rolling her eyes, Catarina moves past him as Madzie skips to the living room. “What do you think we’re doing here? The shit has hit the fan and what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t check in?”

“No, ‘I told you so?’”

Shaking her head fondly, Cat goes to sit down in the living room as Madzie goes to her cabinet and takes out some crayons and a coloring book, settling down in front of Cat to draw on the coffee table.

“I’m better than that,” Cat says dryly.

Magnus just sighs before sitting down in a chair. “You did warn me, though,” he admits.

Leaning forward, Cat rests a hand on Magnus’s knee. “Yeah, but even I thought you had more time.” She raises a brow. “You know who went to Aldertree, don’t you?”

“I’d have to be a fu-- fool not to,” Magnus scoffs, clearing his throat as he glances at Madzie.

Smile reaching her eyes, Catarina just shakes her head. “All this time and she just can’t help herself.”

"She did warn me in London. I probably should have seen this coming. Maybe I’m losing my touch,” Magnus mutters under his breath.

“Or,” Catarina draws out. “You’ve been a little preoccupied lately. It happens to the best of us,” she teases.

Magnus laughs a little. “Still,” he allows. “I feel like I should have known-- had a feeling, something-- that my world was about to implode.”

Cat shrugs as she leans down to pick up a crayon that fell to the floor. “The only thing you can do now is move forward. Deal with whatever happens and know that you aren’t alone. You have us, of course, but don’t forget that you have Alec.”

“Do I?”

Glaring, Catarina replies, “Yes, you stupid man. You do. Until Alec explicitly ends things, he’s in your corner. From what I’ve seen, I hardly think that an opportunistic viper is going to make him tuck tail and run. He’s made of sterner stuff than that and you do both yourself and him a disservice thinking otherwise.”

“But I didn’t tell him, Cat," Magnus implores. "He found out from someone else and you can’t tell me that doesn’t cast things in a dark light.”

“Please, Magnus. Like we don’t all have things in our past that we’d rather not see the light of day. Like Alec Lightwood doesn’t understand that.”

“Cat,” Magnus says, tone soaked in self-deprecation. “We literally talked about this a few days ago-- about his reputation and insecurity surrounding his career. He’s been used in the past and was rather jaded. I talked him down and we reached an understanding. I said that I didn’t want his money, that I was far more concerned with the person behind the wallet.”

“Well, there we go, then,” Cat exclaims. “He knows your intentions and that you aren’t just another bottom-feeder.”

“Don’t you see, Catarina? I said all of that only for my past to blow up at the worst imaginable time and you must know that any sane person would have an unpleasant case of whiplash.”

Cat sends Magnus an arch look. “Not if that person was as smitten as your boy is over you.”

Magnus opens his mouth to retort but Cat beats him to it. “On the surface? Yeah, Magnus, it looks bad. I won’t lie about that. But that isn’t taking into consideration that you two have been friends for months and Alec should know better. He should at least talk to you before making any rash judgments.”

“I just don’t want to talk to him-- to have that conversation-- and have it be the end.”

“Sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do and sometimes people surprise you, even if you thought you had it all figured out,” Cat counters.

“What’s wrong?”

Magnus looks up from where he’d been brooding to see Madzie at his side. He smiles, smoothing a hand over her hair. “Some people found out some things about me that I’d rather they hadn’t. I’m a little afraid of what the consequences will be.”

Madzie hums a little as she thinks before her gaze snaps back to Magnus. “You’re always telling me that I have to be brave even when I don’t want to. Like, when I fell off my bike and didn’t want to get back on. You told me that I had to face my fears and I did! And now I love riding my bike in the park with Cindy.”

“Are you saying that I have to take my own advice?”

Madzie nods solemnly and Magnus smiles. It’s small, and a little defeated, but it’s there nonetheless.

With that, Catarina stands up, helping Madzie clean up her crayons. As she does so, the shifts so that she can see Magnus.

“When are you going to talk to him? You really can’t let this fester,” she warns.

Magnus opens his mouth to respond just as his phone vibrates. He looks over on autopilot and freezes when he sees the text message.

“Speak of the devil,” he murmurs and stares down at his phone, dread settling in his stomach like lead.

Magnus, when are you free? We need to talk.

[folerdetdufoler]

oh friday. we love a fredag in this house. this was the one day i had plans, and by “i had plans” i mean i tagged along for haidee and nadège’s plans because they were in oslooooo! they were flying in later that morning, so i had some time to spend on my own, which was good. i took my sweet ol’ time eating breakfast, looking out the window and hoping for the clouds to part, a ray of sun to appear, anything. but no. it remained quite dark most of the day, and the light you see in the photos is mostly due to editing in instagram. there was also a pretty constant drizzle that remained from the day before, but i wasn’t going to let that stop me. i had a city to explore!

so, naturally, i went back to the opera house, my most visited location outside of my hotel room in all of my trips combined. it was a bit too windy to deal with my travel umbrella so that went back into my backpack after the second time it blew inside out. i walked over to the harbor to see if, perhaps, the view was better over the water. it was not. but i climbed up the opera house steps anyway, because at least i could walk off breakfast. it was strange because i was the only one up there, but it was also shit weather and not much of a view (again), so i just figured i would enjoy having the place to myself (was the opera house closed? mayhaps.). and enjoy it i did, because i managed to slip and fall at the top! i was done climbing, it wasn’t even any kind of incline…i was just distracted trying to take a photo of the non-view and my feet were like “okay let’s make a break for it!” and they most certainly did. now i love my alone time, being able to experience the world without the pressure of existing in it, but i really loved my alone time just then, when my body decided to stop standing. feet went up, ass went down, i probably screamed, and then i posted about it on instagram, like you do. the tradition of climbing up the opera house in the winter and then eating it was alive and well.

i held on to the wall as i climbed back down.

then i walked around the harbor, hoping the light rain would soak enough of the rest of my pants as to disguise how wet my ass was. i went to the salt…area? installation? i’m not sure how to describe it. the other side of the harbor. just because it was a location i’d seen in a bunch of norwegian instagram stories and i had to see these t-shirts for myself. it was cool. i was slightly distracted because i was going low at that point, had walked off too much of my breakfast in fact, and only had a packet of gushers in my backpack for a sugar boost. so i moved on to an apotek to find glucose tablets.

i changed pump systems back at the end of august, adding a cgm and increasing my insulin usage by like…500%. my previous two trips were done on an old, dying pump and barely any bolusing or glucose monitoring, so this was my first trip where i was actively using insulin and keeping my numbers in range. this is a good thing, of course, but it was also new and a distraction and created dangerous situations for myself as i insisted on walking back and forth across the city center. i struggled to count carbohydrates with the different nutrition information on the food i bought (y’all what’s the point of telling me how many carbs are in 100 g of food if i can’t tell how much food is in the container?). i mean, i did okay, because i’ve been eyeballing this shit since i was twelve, but my new system relies heavily on accurate carb counts and boluses. if i don’t give it the right information, it has to compensate with the basal rate, and those automatic adjustments were not jiving with my bursts of activity. ugh, okay, well this was all just a weird venting aside and explanation for what i did in my down time: struggle.

in some flash of unusual foresight, i had kept the empty tube of glucose tablets and was able to show that to the pharmacist so she could do the translating for me. i would’ve cooed over the norwegian version of my tablets if i had the mental capacity in that moment, but i had to eat some first before i could even navigate my bag to find my wallet to pay for them. i was blessedly alone in this pharmacy as well, so only this one lady had to witness me dumping my damp backpack out on the floor to find a fuckin’ credit card. anyway, crisis averted. i chomped on raspberry-flavored sugar as i walked back to the hotel. whatever parts of me hadn’t gotten wet from the rain were now soaked through with my sweat so i had to dry off before the main event.

haidee had arranged for a late lunch for us at ett bord, so i met her and nadège there, along with margaux and charlotte. it was so lovely reconnecting with my girls and meeting new ones, and talking about the show of course but also learning about their regular lives as well. i don’t have much to compare it to, but it always feels so easy meeting strangers because even if we never interacted online, we still have this same source material that, at this point, courses through our veins. we talked about the show and fic and the con of course, since half of us were attending it the next day. i took a picture of the quiche that haidee had ordered because i…did not know that was quiche. and then maybe halfway through lunch i shit my pants?

or whatever it is that my body did when it heard henrik’s voice over my shoulder. maybe it was the opposite of shitting my pants. maybe i was clenching too hard because i felt like my heart was going to fall out of my ass. yeah, that.

our end of the table went silent. i was the last to realize what was going on because i had angled my body to face everyone else so i couldn’t see him enter or sit down. but i heard his voice and i froze and i hated myself for it.

we managed to get talking and eating again like the adult human beings we are. i think a couple were sat between our group and henrik then so it felt like there was a buffer and i could relax a bit. siv came over to chat and we were #exposed as fans (though if the chick clenching so tight she was about to eat the stool with her ass wasn’t a tip off then…) but i think we remained chill? i hope we did? i was still functioning well enough to use a fork so there was that, at least. and the food was good! i cleared my plate.

but then that fucker decided to come over to our group and say hi before he left, exhibiting the kindness and hospitality he’s known for at this point, and ugh. how dare he. i did not consent to death, thank you very much, yet there i was, clenching and dying.

i don’t know how to explain it without sounding rude and ungrateful, so i guess i’m being rude and ungrateful. but it did feel…violating? if only because i thought the screen that had always separated me from him as an actor was still in place. i realize i was in his city, in his family’s restaurant, and i was at this place of my own volition, but i still expected that wall to remain intact. i’d been to the restaurant twice before without coming into contact with his family, or been identified as a skam fan. i had assumed it would happen again. i had assumed those involved with the convention would be busy elsewhere with that, or hiding from it as long as they could. the restaurant is weirdly an established fan attraction, and thus far i’d been able to enjoy it without that association, and i had naively thought it would remain that way even on the eve of such a large fan event. but i’m a goddamn fool, and henrik is a very generous host.

he left. i unclenched. i think everyone else was simply delighted by the chance meeting and excited for the weekend to come because that’s why they were there. they were there to be skam fans. and i guess i…wasn’t? even though i’ve been struggling with my identity as anything but a skam fan, here i was, at the heart of the show, trying to deny it. ugh.

anyway, marie joined us as we were finishing up and from there we all walked to the convention location so they could register in advance. i met up with jenn there, and then we just bounced around until it was time for the play. we went to an atm, then to a christmas market, then to tanum on a sudden, exciting hunt for books, then to the theatre! and finally, finally, surrounded by blonde children who only came up to my waist, i got to hug kit. third time’s the charm, bitch.

then it was time for snøfall! we were seated painfully close to the stage because in my enthusiasm over the summer i had chosen some aggressive seating. on top of that actors were entering the stage from the aisle and the wing right in front of us, so while it was a funny and sweet story, i was legitimately frightened multiple times throughout as residents of snøfall ran right past us. but it was a fun show to watch, and the singing was impressive. i got to tune my ear to more norwegian, and of course, see tarjei. i loved the whole atmosphere of it, because it reminded me of my own family’s christmas tradition as a child, going to see the nutcracker at lincoln center. and holy shit, the set design was amazing? i barely looked at the program but at the end we stood in the lobby and tried to figure out who was responsible for choreographing such detailed settings in a very mechanical yet elegant way (i think it’s gjermund andresen and christer berg, fyi).

it was a wholly enjoyable performance, riiiiight up until a tarjei stan ran up to the stage to hand him flowers. he had to step out of the bows to accept them, which felt rude to the actual stars of the play and the children actors, but i didn’t catch their actual reactions because i was busy dying, again. i slid down in my seat hoping to melt into the floor but alas. #exposed.

we left. no one had a plan (welcome to the club) so we wandered to the christmas market. then we figured we needed dinner, so we walked over to grünerløkka to a place jenn had on her list. they were too busy for drop-ins, but their host kindly directed us to another restaurant with a similar vibe. at this point we’d done quite a bit of walking and were getting hungry, so when we spotted a bislett kebab on the way we decided to just give up and grab something there instead. it didn’t really matter to me, because food is food (and at least i was familiar with this food since i’d had it a couple of times last winter!). i would keep walking for hours as long as we were talking, but it was good to finally rest. i think it made me realize how tired i was, and i wasn’t even coming off of a morning of travel like everyone else. we split off after dinner and i collapsed back at the hotel. what a day.

before i go though, i just need to say that the best part of all of this was listening to margaux, charlotte, marie, nadège, jenn, and haidee talk about fic. i think they talked more about fic and the characters than the actual show, which makes sense, because that’s the most active part of the fandom (this was before the bloopers announcement). they were talking about what was still so alive for them, what they were keeping alive with their own stories and comments, and i just want to…i don’t know, give them credit? these women are amazing. they are why i impulse-bought tickets back in august, so i would have an excuse to see them again, and meet more like them, and attempt to show support in return. they are pursuing what they love, accomplishing so much, honing their own skills and supporting the talents of others. as much as i am ashamed of being one myself, i love how they are fans. i admire their lack of shame and their abundance of respect. they were on a trip, thoroughly enjoying themselves, and it was just comforting and affirming to watch them be relatable and wonderful human beings treating themselves to a fun weekend (what they deserve). i wonder, when i grow up, if i could be like them someday.

[skyfallofcybertron-blog]

Transformers: Skyfall. Like Real People Do

((Mun Note: So I wrote this forever ago for @light-edge-with-a-blog​. Before the boy got himself a blog. I still REALLY proud of it and thought I would share it with everyone else too.))

The time got away from me. I don’t know how. Normally, I was pretty good at keeping track of my day. However, when I was with the Autobots, on their base, with Light-Edge and his adopted family; I don’t know… Something about them eased me. Team Prime eased me. Unbelievable. I had read Decepticon intel upon Decepticon intel on how ruthless and traitorous they where. Yet, they were so close. All of them. They where a family.

The Decepticons were never that close. We were comrades, partners, brothers-in-arms and team mates; never anything that could be considered a risk. Yes, there was pairing offs. Pits, Night Glide and I got bonded during the War. However, we were the odd balls. Most of the time, it was aggressive bots just trying to...blow off steam.

The Great War molded Team Prime into something greater than anything the Decepticons could have imagined. And slowly, I was being integrated into it. ‘Slowly’ was the key word here. It was still pretty split when I would show up. The younger members; Bumblebee, Smokescreen and Light-Edge (along with Optimus Prime) had pretty much welcomed me since day one. The others not so much. I was still very much a Decepticon to them.

Maybe this was part of Optimus Prime’s grandmaster plan. To show his team that the War was really over. I thought that at first. I thought that the Prime was just using me to get the closeted and shy Light-Edge out more.

Poor kid. He was from Earth, supposedly in status throughout the whole war. Of course, the ‘Cons had no documentation of the mech. Something to do with the human military force finding him first. I’m not to sure. I was never got much on Light-Edge’s backstory. It was clear that he was hurting though. Ratchet and Arcee followed him around like a pair of hawks. He was sick or something to the like. I was never told what it was. It wasn’t my business to know.

Light-Edge was so dissociated when I first met him, all those months ago.

Yet, upon Prime’s secret orders, I started coming to the base. I started to get to know Light-Edge. I started to get to know the members of Team Prime. Everyone began to open up and enjoy my company. And I was enjoying theirs.

To the point where I was steadily powering down on Light-Edge’s shoulder one late and stormy night. The solar winds had brought the summer heat from the Sea of Rust over Metroplex like a blanket; making everyone hazy in function. The first really muggy summer since we all returned. Most of the bots where readjusting. Expect for Light-Edge. The humans pulled him out of a desert on their planet. The mechling was used to it.

I felt my helm dip one last time. It clinked off of Light-Edge’s shoulder plating with a quiet ‘tink’. I finally gave up and yawned. The mechling I was sitting on chuckled in amusement as I lifted my arms over my head to stretch.

“What?” He asked, smirking softly, “Earth cinema not good enough for your Cybertronian palette?”

“It’s not that.” I yawned once again, “Gamera: Guardian of the Universe is clearly a masterpiece that needs to be preserved for generations to come.”

I slowly slid down his outstretched arm to look at him face to face. I smiled wearily and added, “It’s late, kiddo. I don’t know what you do all day, but I have work in the morning.”

There was a crack of lighting outside the base. I could hear the rain pounding off the roof. I didn’t need to look out the mechling’s cramped room window to know that the rain was pouring down in sheets. He looked at me with great disapproval.

“You’re going home? In this?” Light-Edge said dryly. He gestured to the downpour blowing pass his window.

“That? You?” He continued, “You’d get blown away.”

“I can walk.”

“You’ll get swept up in the streets.”

“Then I’ll call for a pick up.”

“Night Glide will get hit by lightning.”

I smirked. “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

The blue mechling huffed. He crossed his arms and tried to give me a tough face. However, the mechling was still a mechling. It came out more like a pout then anything resembling a threat.

“I just don’t want you to go home in this. It’s too dangerous, Sky.”

“I agree with Light-Edge.”

My helm swiveled to the door where Ratchet, the Autobots head medic, was making his way into the room. Medical kit in hand.

Light-Edge’s nightly diagnostic. I scampered to Light-Edge’s other arm as Ratchet didn’t skip a beat and began to set up for the mechling’s tests.

“I haven’t seen winds like this in eons. You’re too small to make the journey across the city on your own.”

“Jeez, thanks for the vote of confidence, Ratchet.”

Ratchet didn’t even look at me as he lifted a digit to silence me. “I’ve repaired enough Minicons before the war to know what their physical limitations are.”

The old bot took Light-Edge wrist and plugged in one of his scanners. Ratchet paused for a moment before added briefly, “As Light-Edge said; we don’t want to see you get hurt, Skyfall.”

I smiled softly upon hearing that. Ratchet was a bit of a hard bot. Four million years of war made his bedside manners less than to be desired, but underneath all that flaking plating was a spark of gold. Even when he didn’t want to admit it.

Ratchet waved me off; trying to shoo me off of Light-Edge’s shoulder. I took to the air to avoid his servos.

“You two sparklings can finish your movie once I finish here.” Ratchet said, “Now, shoo. You’re a distraction.”

“Sparkling? I’m only 400,000 years younger then Arcee.”

“Well, you’re a sparkling compared to me. Shoo, will you?”

Ratchet continued to bat the air in front of me. Light-Edge was finding this very amusing. He was laughing by the time I retreated to the doorway. Light-Edge waved at me. I waved back. Ratchet grumbled as he returned back to the blue mechling’s side.  

“Really now. Minicons.”

Outside Light-Edge’s dorm, I stretched out my arms and wings. I turned on my peds, walking towards the common area of the base. The large hanger was filled to the brim with the rest of the other Autobots; lounging around to avoid the summer storm outside.

Bumblebee and Smokescreen where sparring while the rest of Team Prime watched and chatted among themselves. The clashing of fists was almost as loud as their trash talk. I couldn't help, but chuckle. Mechs would be mechs. The two rounded pass me as I entered the room.

“Hey, Sky!” Smokescreen said cheerfully, pinning Bee’s arm painfully by sitting on the poor mechling, “Not going home in this, are you?”

The bots started tumbling once more. I sidestepped out of the way. Bee gave his partner a swift kick. Smoke fell like a bundle of bricks.

Bumblebee added, “Need a ride home?”

“I'm staying here for the night. Doctor’s and Light-Edge’s orders.”

The sure fire sound of Optimus Prime’s peds came echoing throughout the chamber. The roughhousing nearly stopped when he came into the room. Almost. Prime looked fondly at his team, then his optics fell onto me.

“Both Ratchet and Light-Edge are wise to think that.” Optimus said, “We have plenty of space for you to stay until the storm passes, Skyfall.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Smokescreen remarked. The mechling’s doorwings were bouncing with excitement. “I always wanted to do a sleepover ever since the kids ever talked about!”

Bumblebee’s servo shot up straight into the air, “I call first pick for movies!”

Somewhere down the hallway, Light-Edge retorted. His answer echoing off the metal walls.

“We’re still watching Gamera!”

Ratchet also sighed. Seemed like wrangling three energetic young mechs was a full time job. My spark swelled up, once again amazed by the seamless family they had all became. I giggled, but it quickly because loud and clear with delight.

I had not felt a something like this since I was with Jetstream and her trine.

A wave of bittersweet washed over my spark; making it heavy with the memory. Sure, I was bonded. And yes, Glide and I were a family. However, it was just the two of us against the world for such a long time. Something deep in my coding always longed for more though.

Night Glide was raised a Vosian Seeker. He was cool and distant. Affectionate, but never openly showed it. Ever since we came home, he worked long days. He was a cop, after all. Even with the battles over, there was still grudges that would arise.

I was working a lot myself. Immigration and all that. A lot of my free time, I was responding to emails from off world colonies or here. Helping with Light-Edge’s reintegration into our society.

Our schedules never quite lined up anymore.

I don’t know. Maybe I was overthinking this. Maybe I was lonely. Or maybe I was greedy and wanted more. Whatever it was; I pushed it down and enjoyed the rest of my evening.

It went as well I one would expect what three mechs would think would be entertaining. It was a B-movie marathon. I was introduced to a wide array of Earth films; ranging from slashers to spaghetti westerns. All of them equally trouble in their own unique ways. I don’t think I’ve laughed as hard in a long time then listening to Smokescreen’s and Light-Edge’s constant commentary.

At some point, Knock Out came and joined us as well. Another follow fan of the art form. The medic would regal about his time sneaking into the parking lots of Earth’s drive-in theaters with his partner, Breakdown; watching the local picture show. The former ‘Con seemed a little down over the memory. He was hiding it though through wit. I knew that he and Breakdown where close, but I guess the scars of war hadn’t healed just yet for the red sportscar.

Slowly, as the night and storm dragged on, one by one; the mechs turned in for the night. I was set up in a spare dormitory next to Light-Edge’s room. That’s where I found myself just unable to sleep. Not for the reason I thought I would either. I thought I wouldn’t sleep being so close to the Autobots, but in reality, I couldn’t sleep without my carrier.

I was just used to being held in my carrier’s deployer compartment. I had not (or at least very rarely) ever just recharged on my own. I was used to the warmth and feeling of safety that being in my carrier provided. It also was a good way to mentally unwind too. Hooking up to my carrier provided me a safe way to ‘unload’ my emotional stress as well. It was easier to share the anxiety between two, then to suffer alone.

As another hour clocked by, I finally gave up. I shifted from my alt. mode (my prefered charging state) and sat up in the massive berth I was provided. I looked towards the wall where I could hear Light-Edge sleep peacefully. I groaned in embarrassment. I had two options:

Ask for help with this predicament.

Or risk not getting any charge and crashing at work.

Ask for help with this predicament.

Or risk not getting any charge and crashing at work.

I swallowed my pride. I hopped out of berth, crept into the hallway and peeked into the blue mechling’s room.

The kid was powered down, breathing softly as I tip toed closer to his berth. On cue, like he knew I needed something, his optics dimmed online. Light-Edge yawned and lazily stretched. My wings hung close to the floor. I immediately fault stupid over this and regretted my actions.

“Hey…” He mumbled, “What’s up, Sky…?”

It took me a moment to answer. My mouth suddenly went dry. I also felt so much smaller. Light-Edge tilted his helm in concern when I didn’t say anything right away. Though, he waited until I was able to piece my words together.

“I have the dumbest question...”

“It’s not a stupid question if you were willing to wake me up in the middle of the night to get an answer.” The mechling gave me a haft smile. He lowered his servo to allow me to hop up onto his berth and sit next to him. “What’s wrong? You seem upset.”

“Not upset. Just...embarrassed.” I looked up at him. I smiled weakly. “I can’t sleep.”

Light-Edge chuckled, “That all?”

“Yeah. Normally have Night Glide around.”

“Used to having another person to share the berth or something?”

“More like used to sleeping in the other person.”

Light-Edge raised a puzzled eyebrow. A tired chuckle escaped me. I leaned back. I rested my helm against the larger bot’s shoulder plate. Light-Edge shifted and curled an arm around me. I smiled weakly. That helped a bit.

“It’s a Minicon thing.” I explained, “I link up with my carrier every night and power down with them. I’ve been doing it for so long that it just feels...weird not charging like that.”

“So, you just need a box or space like that to sleep in?” Light-Edge said.

“Something like that. Yeah.”

“What about my trunk?”

I blinked. Wait? He was going for it? Actually?

He chuckled. My confusion must have been plain to see. He pointed over his shoulder with his spare arm.

“My trunk.” He repeated, “It’s on my back. Do you just want to charge in there? You’re not going to bother me. I’ve slept through much worst.”

It took me a moment for his words to actually sink into my mind. Slowly, I felt a chuckle creep up my throat. My turbines whirled to life as Light-Edge sat up. He offered me a servo to land on while he smiled. With a click, the hatch between his shoulder blades opened. Light-Edge rested his forehead against mine.

“Night, Skyfall.”

“Night, Light-Edge.”

He pulled away as I took off from his servo; transforming into my jet mode. I rounded his shoulder and landed squarely in the back of his trunk. It closed behind me. I settled in the darkness; feeling a hundred times better. Comforted in the metallic blanket I was wrapped in. Soothed by internal hums and machinery.

I found myself listening to the consistency of Light-Edge’s sparkbeat. Every spark had a different rhythm then the one next to it. Every bot was it’s own little song. It’s own little record spinning through the cosmos. Light-Edge’s spark was no different. His spark steady and calming. Melodic. Much like the bot it belong to.

It ended being my own personal lullaby. I was asleep before I knew it.

***

I missed my home. The one that was thousands of millions of light years away.

On a blue, glassy planet was my home. The only one that I had known in my short life. The sand and rock of Jasper. The vistas and the nearly endless expanse of the desert skies. How quiet and peaceful it all was.

I missed my family. My mom and my friends; Raf and Miko. I hadn’t seen them since I came here. I missed watching movies, playing video games, working on my bike in the garage...the warmth of my mother’s hug.

I missed so much of my homeworld. So, so, much.

I wasn’t this. What I become. I was a monster now; a mess of wires and metal and energon. Ratchet made me like this to keep me alive. Yet now I had to keep up a living lie. I couldn't become what Optimus wanted me to. Now I'm stuck. In between something I am and something alien.

My name was Light-Edge.

I am Jack Darby.

We were Skyfall.

I gasped for air as if I was drowning in mercury. No. It was Ratchet’s cybermatter. Or at least the memories of it. I floundered. My frame felt slow and sluggish; my processors trying to catch up with the rest of me. My interfacing cables unplugged themselves as I began to realize what was happening. I had plugged myself into-

“JACK!”

The kid was screaming. I knew why. Oh Primus, I knew why. From the bottom of my spark, all the way through my wiring; I realized with crystal clarity was if I felt every fiber he was feeling that he felt every inch of mine. And I had four million years of wars, surgery and abuse on top of his meager nineteen.

“JACK!” I yelled once more, but the bot- boy- kid, was still screaming.

He probably couldn’t hear me under all the plating. I went to eject. Yet, the way was firmly locked. Jack was on his back. He probably woke up from a dead charge like this and didn’t understand what was happening.

Against better judgement, I did the only thing I could do while trapped within my carrier. I plugged myself back in.

Somewhere between our two minds was the meeting point. Every carrier/deployer had one. It was the space where our two hafts became one; where the passing of knowledge was seamless. I knew he was there. What I didn’t expect was to find the human; not the mech, doubled over in pain and sobbing.

“Sweet Solus Prime...”

I came over to him; finally eye to eye with each other. I set a servo on his back and traced it along his spine. Jack sputtered out a gasp. Wild blue eyes looked up at me with both confusion and relief. I smiled weakly; pulling him into a hug. Jack grabbed onto my back plates like it was the last things on Cybertron. In our combine minds, they might as well be. I continued to rub his back to calm him.

“I know…” I cooed softly, “I’m so sorry… You’re ok now, kiddo. It was just a bad dream-”

“No, that wasn’t.” I heard muffled against my plating, “That was real. That happened. To you.”

Slowly, his shaky hands wrapped themselves around my helm’s filigree. I had thought I was used to Jack’s striking eyes by this point. Yet, his steel blue eyes looked so heartbroken. So, concerned for me. Let alone his own well being.

I think that hurt more than the fact I just traumatized him with eons of my memories.

“Why didn’t you tell me about any of this?” He asked.

My breathing hitched. I tilted my helm to nuzzle into his palm. I gave Jack the only answer I had.

“Cause I’m still working through it.” It wasn’t a lie. “It hurts, but not as much as it used to.”

My servos brought him closer in the hug, “I’m sorry that I dragged you into all of this, Jack. It’s-”

A pop up window flashed before me. I felt my face scrunch up as I pulled myself away from Jack to read it. Jack swiveled his head to see it as well; looking as completely lost as I was feeling. His eyes flickered as he tried to read what I had already finished.

Primus, no.

“Sky?” He questioned, “I’m not up to date on my Cybertronian. What is that?”

I let the boy go quickly. A hissed slipped through my teeth. I closed the window. Then opened one of my own. Jack finally got to his feet as I began to furiously type on a holoboard.

“Sky?” Jack’s fear was starting to creep back into his voice.

My screen crashed. The keyboard disappeared. I looked quickly at the boy before Ratchet forcefully ejected me from my current carrier. Both carrier and deployer where screaming with my removal.

Ratchet should have known better. With our two minds linked like that; it was similar to a psychic patch. It was mutual. A symbiotic process. A respectful partnership.

It wasn’t as abrasive as the patch. However, a forced deployer ejection was just as dangerous. Luckily, (or out of the medic’s skill) it didn’t outright kill the both of us. It just felt like our bodies where being ripped in half.

Though, I have a feeling that the old medic was pressured into it.

I could barely figure out what was happening before I was unceremoniously dumped onto the main hanger’s floor. Ratchet’s voice was coming down the hallway; trying to calm down Jack. I was caught under the seething gaze of Jack’s guardian, Acree.

“What the frag where you thinking?!” The blue femme screamed at me.

Terror ripped through my body. My intakes hitched as I backed off from the femme. Arcee closed the gap between us. My mouth hung agape. I was shaking; from my helm to my wings. A crossed Arcee was a dangerous one. I had read about it in Decepticon reports. She was quick; precise and more often than not, vindictive when concerning her partners. I think out of all of Team Prime’s warriors, besides Prime himself, I feared her the most.

“Are you going to say anything, ‘Con?”

The two-wheeler was looking for answers. Ones that I didn’t have. My mind was blank. My mouth was as dry as those solar winds that brought us this horrible summer storm. I couldn’t even breathe. I was just staring up at Arcee. Like an complete idiot.

Maybe I was just a dumb Decepticon.

“Arcee, leave her alone!”

Thunderous peds falls came crashing down the hallway. I couldn’t figure out who it was at first until they were right on top of us; wedged between me and Arcee. The bot did cause Acree to back off slightly.

Light-Edge was standing over me. The mechling had his shielding on and firmly pointing it towards his partner. He was glaring. I had never seen him like that. Arcee had a look of surprise. So, it must have been a rarity. I, on the other hand, felt tears roll down my cheeks. It was as if an invisible servo was squeezing my spark.

...What was I doing here?

“Arcee, I know that you’re scared.” Light-Edge said calmly. Yet, firmly. He was making a point to her. “Hell, I’m weirded out too. I’m still getting used to all of this Cybertronian head probing stuff, but I don’t think Skyfall intended this to happen. It was a mistake.”

Light-Edge looked down towards me. His face softened once he noticed I was crying.

“Isn’t that right, Sky?” He said gently.

I nodded. Slowly, at first. My processor unable to anything more than that. I croaked on a sob. My helm nodded faster. Oh Primus, if I could speak, it would have been a long string of apologizes. Instead, I just pulled up my knees to sob into them. The only thing I could do. My spark ached. I couldn’t tell from what anymore. Fear, guilt, the reopening of old scars. All things where equal in my mind.

Arcee seemed to understand my complete lack of vocal communication. The femme’s stance shifted. Her shoulders sank. Her optics went distant with thought. After a moment, she vented out a sigh. Light-Edge straightened out; putting his shield generators away. Carefully, the mechling lifted me off the floor. And in an ironic twist of fate; it was now my turn to cling to him for dear life.

The stalemate between Light-Edge and Arcee only lasted a moment. Ratchet came stomping towards us. The older mech simply glared all three of down in complete disappointment. Like a sire scolding his sparklings. That made me feel even smaller in Light-Edge’s grasp.

“That’s enough from the three of you.” He hissed lowly, “You’re going to wake up the whole base if you keep this up. The heat is getting to you.”

He jabbed an accusing digit at Arcee first. “You know better. Skyfall has been coming here for months. Optimus even approved it himself.” The old mech flattered for a moment as he glanced at Jack, “She was bound to find out about all of this. Sooner or later.”

Ratchet’s optics fell on me briefly. He opened his arms towards Light-Edge and gestured, “Give her to me. I need to look her over. And go back to bed.” He eyed Acree again, “Both of you.”

“But Ratchet-” Light-Edge started to protest as the medic plucked me from his hold. Ratchet shot him another glare.

“That’s enough.” Ratchet retorted.

With a defeated sigh, Light-Edge nodded. He made his way back towards his room; disappearing into the dark corridor. Arcee didn’t leave right away. She was simply staring at where Jack had ventured. Ratchet shifted me in his arms.

“He’s fine, Arcee.”

She hummed softly in thought. Finally, Acree broke rank. She walked passed us; patting Ratchet’s shoulder plating as she did. Perhaps as a way to either thank him or apologize. The femme went down another hallway. Ratchet huffed a sigh out of his vents.

The old medic walked over and set me on to a table to properly examine me. I was surprised how careful Ratchet was in doing so. Even to a Minicon like myself. After taking my vitals and running a few tests, Ratchet sighed quietly in what I would like to believe was relief.

“Everything checks out. Would you like some help getting back into bed?”

There was a beat of silence between us. I looked back up at the old medic and whispered, “You saved his life...”

Ratchet was caught off guard by my comment. He hid it well. He ignored me at first; choosing to pack his equipment. Though, it slowed until he sighed heavily. There was regret in his eyes when he looked over his shoulder to see me.

“...Did I?” Ratchet mused, “You would know better then I would. You were the one that was linked to him, after all.”

I hummed. Newly adopted memories of Earth flooded my mind. That feeling of loneliness. The feeling of homesickness. That feeling of being trapped on a completely alien world in all sense of the word.

That feeling of being loved by a family. Both biological. And found.

I smiled weakly.

“You did, but he needs an outlet.” I looked up at the big mech, “He needs something to do. You can’t keep him locked up in here. He’s a good kid, Ratchet. If you were worried about him not fitting in, keeping him sheltered from Cybertron isn’t going to help. Let him help us. Let him help us rebuild. And let him go back to Earth and see his family.”

I chuckled softly and added, “Though… I have a feeling that I didn’t need to tell you any of that…”

Ratchet’s big shoulders sagged slowly. The silence fell between us once again. The rain outside was not as vicious. The winds not so harsh. Ratchet turned on his ped and offered a servo to climb onto. It was a moment before he spoke again.

“Sometimes I need a reminder…”

I smiled a little bit more and stepped into his hand.

[weaselle]

I put them both in one post.

I have a brother 10 years older than me and a younger brother and sister 5 and 7 years younger than me respectively. I call the older by his name, and also “dude” a lot. You know those twisty metal puzzles you have to figure out how to take apart or put back together, like puzzle rings and shit? He can do those in seconds without even thinking about it, like, idly while talking to you. He’s a daredevil bombs and blades tinkerer, and a practical joker. Once he told me he was getting out of the lake because it was noon and that’s when the sun shone straight down to the bottom and woke IT up, and then got out and snuck halfway around the lake to climb back in and swim up from underneath me to wrap a hand around my ankle and suddenly yank me down about ten feet at an angle toward the center of the lake. He went to jail for building a bomb, it’s a good thing they never found his other homemade weapons, like arrows with exploding tips, or the underslung potato gun mounted to the frame of his car. And I SAY potato gun but I saw him use his tester model to launch a wad of duct tape through a truck camper shell at the junk yard in the R&D phase, and he use to load it with a wad of something for batting topped by a snapple cap and a handfull of roofing nails and disintegrate mail boxes with it. He is a good wood sculptor and has a surprisingly delicate yet raw style when drawing with charcoal or graphite. He can take apart and put together almost anything. I could just write a whole book about his antics.

With my younger brother it’s mostly his name and “dude” quite often. Every once in a while, I will call him bro, or brother, but usually when I am low-key reinforcing our age difference. Like if he thought mom would react one way to something, but I had seen her reaction to that same thing before he was born or whatever, like, brother, I’ve known her longer. He is one of two people I know personally who may be legit geniuses. He used to play video games in the early 90′s by hacking their code and modding them - I’d walk in and he’d be 12 years old like “Instead of cannon balls, I made the cannon shoot cows that bounce around randomly a few times and explode, and I’m trying to make it so that each time a cow bounces, it spawns another bouncing cow bomb”. He has a… I want to say a Masters in Physics. His math teacher in high school tried to hold his interest by having him teach the first 15 minutes of each class. Once when the rest of us siblings were all standing around talking about sneaking out of the house, we asked if he ever did and he was like “why would I sneak out in the middle of the night… that’s when I sleep.” Now he’s a very mellow polyamorous hacker who brews his own beer and “isn’t allowed to tell you where I work, it’s so silly”

Our youngest I call by her name, and dude a fair amount, and a combination of the word sister and her name (like if her name was Brittany I would call her Sisttany) I do call her sister more than I use brother for my fraternals, but she calls us all brother quite a bit.  I think there are some complex reasons for that, but it boils down to her having been teased terribly and given a very hard time growing up by us, her brothers, who had a certain alliance against her. Of course by now we’re forced to admit that she is awesome and special and maybe the best of all of us. Certainly the coolest. Like, my younger brother is hella cool on paper, but when you’re in a room with him, he’s a little.. the only way he pulls it off is by truly not giving a fuck if people think he’s cool, which, as we all know, instantly awards coolness to whatever you’ve got going. On the other hand, when my sister is in a room, people laugh when she decides something is funny. Someone else is often making the decisions, but everyone only agrees to go along with them if sheagrees with them. She’s not wearing those clothes because they are cool, those clothes are cool because she’s wearing them, Once she worked at the same hotel I did for a while, and I asked her what she thought of it, and she said “I only ever want to work in a hotel again if I OWN it”. She was 19. She once knocked out her (now ex) boyfriend for forcefully taking his car keys away from her too roughly when he’d been drinking. He realized what he’d done too late to save him and she pulled him down from the fence he was climbing to get away from her so she could lay him out. She ran her own business for a while doing marketing stuff for publications and wineries and things, but she felt she was working too hard for the return she was seeing, and now she works for some firm overseeing the people who manage their social media or something.

And then there’s me, the Bard of the group, basically. I travel around on lots of adventures (I was arrested by the US airforce in Germany, I got stuck in England for a summer when they took my passport away from me at Heathrow - I stayed at a circus school with a few of the circus students who had no real home to go back to for the summer, and I put together a circus busking group with some of them and that’s how I made enough money to eat every day.) I used to write and produce full length comedies for the stage. I was SO sure I was going to be a con-artist, so I studied slight of hand and magic ( I ran a crooked poker game at recess) but as a young adult, when I picked my first pocket, I found I had no taste for stealing from real people (I’ll fuck up Coke any day, where’s Amazon’s pocket? Side note: I tapped the guy on his shoulder and handed his wallet back to him and said “I think you dropped this” and never picked a pocket again, but I can still do some pretty interesting stuff with cards and coins and things, Juggle knives and torches. that sort of stuff). Anyway, I adventure, and I write songs and stories, and my siblings mostly call me by my name, and very occasionally, dude. Also, my origins are steeped in mystery and my siblings are actually my cousins by blood, but that’s another story. Okay, here is that story.

My Grandmother was left-handed and the reason I love cooking and definitely some kind of Being. Her title was The Grandma. She had 4 great grandchildren by the time she died, and so her daughters became Grandma, but she was THE Grandma. She had this way about her, like she was incredibly present, but also paying attention to everything in the whole world. And then sometimes (notably when you fucked up) it was like she pulled her attention off all those things and put the whole thing on you; it was very unsettling. And she had the Voice, which she almost never used.

The last time Grandma traveled on an airplane with us, we were going though security and she couldn’t go through the metal detectors because by then she couldn’t get out of the wheelchair for longer than twenty seconds at a time. The TSA agent said she was going to search her or pat her down instead, and reached for my Grandmother. And Grandmother said, in the Voice

“Don’t touch The Grandma”

The TSA agent blinked and looked at grandma’s eldest daughter (a celtic witch if ever there was one) who merely shrugged and said “…don’t touch the grandma”.

TSAgent hesitated as if about to reach forward and insist, thought better of it, called TSA Supervisor over. TSA Supervisor explained everything to The Grandma - it’s just a quick pat-down, everybody who can’t go through the detectors has it done, they won’t even ask her to stand - and then reached forward to pat down my grandmother

“Don’t. Touch. The Grandma”

TSA Supervisor’s hands stopped as if hitting glass. She looked confusedly back and forth between the TSA agent and my grandmother for a second, and then the confusion left her face and she stepped aside, looked at the TSA agent and said “Don’t touch the Grandma” and waived us through security. They didn’t even scan the rest of us

It’s a shame she couldn’t fly anymore after that, she loved to fly; when her first husband died, she married P, a WW2 B52 crewman who taught her to pilot small planes, and they would fly up and down the coast to any cities they wanted to visit - she knew the West Coast in a way few people do.

One morning in the deserts of Nevada a year after P’s death she woke me up and said “get dressed, were going to into town to the casino; P visited me in a dream last night and told me I’d win a video poker jackpot with a royal flush today” and we drove into town so she could spend fifteen minutes playing video poker. I say fifteen minutes, because after fifteen minutes she hit her jackpot with a royal flush in hearts, and we went back home.

She used to sit in her chair in her living room with her back to the kitchen wall, and I’d go to leave the kitchen and I’d hear her from the other room “don’t you leave my kitchen mat like that” and I’d look over my shoulder at the mat in front of the sink, and sure enough, it would be all rumpled up; sorry grandma.

Grandma and I shared a birthmark, a red stain I won’t describe fully. And my grandmother and I were both adopted. Let me explain.

My Grandmother was adopted by a nice family.

And then that family all died, and she was adopted AGAIN.

She grew up and married a man whose Irish father I am named after: K, who came here from Ireland to work the Alaskan gold rush. She and her husband lived with his father K for a while, and this is a story about that:

Every Sunday. great grandpa K would go off on his own for a couple hours to “walk in the woods”. Grandma followed him one day. K walked into the woods, packed a pipe, sat down with his back to a tree, and took a small handful of nuts and seeds and fruits and leaves out of his shirt pocket. He scattered them around. Soon, as if expecting him, several animals came and helped themselves. The squirrels climbed all over him, on his head even. The raccoons sat in his lap. The birds sat on his knees and shoulders and in his beard and peered into his face. The deer checked his jacket for more snacks. After they hung out for about an hour, they all went on their way. Then K smoked his pipe and went home.

Grandma and K’s son had 5 kids.

One died as a child.

The eldest became an ER nurse and a savant witch. She would never admit she is a witch, but there’s a horseshoe over her door (not the front door, mind you, but the door she actually uses) and she’s the one who taught me to always leave a single spider in your house when you clean. She has a natural way with plants and animals -  the deer eat everything but her herb garden, which isn’t even fenced. This year one of them stayed in her backyard for nearly two months raising twins to be big enough to take back to the herd. She recognizes the individual squirrels and birds in her yard and knows their personalities and habits and things about their families. And of course as an ER and ICU nurse, she’s a hell of a healer.

The youngest was a witch, but sadly neglected, remained immature. Still, she had talents. She could fool people and make them laugh as easy as breathing, like some kind of glamour. Every long line of strangers she ever waited in became a party among friends. Could literally smell if you were lying to her. As in, she’d lean close and take a couple deep sniffs and then be like “Nope. Tell me, where did you really go after school?”

The only brother became a wandering holy man of sorts. Used to hitch-hike around the country in robes and junk, with a small, like, cult; then he quit them to just grow his own holy experience. He died in his 30s.

And the middle sister was my mother. She was double jointed and very dyslexic, and everyone says she was incredibly gifted in many ways. She did intricate artwork in ink, fractal gardens and faux woodgrain that was made of salvador dali faces, stuff like that. She was self taught on the piano, used to just walk up to a piano and play songs she made up on the spot that sounded how she was feeling and little crowds would gather. Made her own exercise equipment. Could pick up an accent within minutes and become semi-conversational in days. She had me with a half Japanese guy in the Air Force (he didn’t stick around). Then when I was about three, she sent me to live with her eldest sister, because her life got too, ah, interesting. Like, her partner had a hit put out on them. It wasn’t safe for me. By the time I was six it all caught up with her, and she died in an accident when she jumped out of the passenger side of a car and tried to run away as it stopped at a red light.

That’s when her eldest sister adopted me. The paperwork was messed up and my name is different on my birth certificate, my SS card, and my ID. Then, the person who filled out the “messed up” paperwork was fired, but I’m still a mystery to the bureaucratic world.  

So here I am, same birthmark as my psychic grandmother, orphaned son of a savant creative criminal and a Japanese-American soldier, named after my Irish, gold hoarding, bearded, pipe-smoking beastmaster great-grandsire; raised by a celtic witch, hidden away from the official world. Sometimes I feel like all those hero origin stories are trying to call me out of hiding. More about my adventures soon.

[sdvbrsb]

running anywhere from 40 to 50 miles per week

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