#i think his heart events are nice either way but like... there's some extra flavor given to when your farmer's a guy

[wildflowercryptid]

sometimes, i think about the extra bit of depth alex's romance is given when you date him as a guy and i just gotta. stare at the ceiling for a bit...

[petri808]

We’ll Take Back Heaven a Nalu Yakuza Au

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

A loud slam of the organization’s front door caused Levy McGarden to pop her head out of her own office. Curious, she walked down the hallway and saw a light on in her boss’s, Lucy Heartfilia. Had the noise been Lucy returning? That was strange because it was too early for the woman to be back so soon. The party should have kept Lucy out of the office until morning. Levy knocked at the cracked door before entering.

“Lu, why are you here? Are you okay?” Levy quickly added when she saw her boss’s forehead leaning on the table. ��Did you drink too much?”

“No… I ran into Natsu, and we had a fight,” Lucy answered without lifting her head. “He just makes me so angry sometimes, so I stormed out of there.”

“Aww, Lu.” Levy walked over and put a hand on her friend’s head. “I’m sorry.” Both Lucy and Natsu were childhood friends of hers, so she knew the history between them. It was just like a made for television movie plot and hard to stay neutral in at times because she loved them both. “Do you wanna talk about it? Need a drink?”

Having heard the loud noise, another associate Cana Alberona also came looking for the source and stumbled upon the beginnings of the conversation. “Did I hear the word drink?” She popped her head into the office. “Oh, baby what’s wrong??” She questioned at seeing Lucy upset. Cana quickly joined Levy next to their friend. “Who do I gotta kill?”

“It’s just Natsu,” Lucy mumbled. “So, no killing.”

“Oh… him.” Cana plopped her butt onto Lucy’s desk. “Ya sure? I bet I could get one of my girls to take him out of your misery.”

“He wouldn’t be interested,” Levy piped in.

“Right… he’s still—”

Lucy sat up groaning, cutting them off. “That’s enough. I really don’t wanna think about that shit right now.”

“Fine, fine, then drinks it is. Relax, babe,” Cana playfully pushed on Lucy’s shoulder before plopping off the desk. “Then you’re gonna dish about tonight.” Cana always kept a stock of liquors at her desk. So, she grabbed a bottle of high quality flavored junmai daiginjo sake, glasses and set the girls up for a gossiping session.

It was reasons like this that really spoke to the heart of their organization. Everyone in the top level of this girl’s gang had known each other from childhood or high school. They were close, a found family of sisters who all had one thing in common— a real dislike for Japan’s outdated notions of gendered norms, well that and a desire to make money. But not in a conventional way. None of them wanted to work a boring office job only to what, be subservient to the male status quo? No, thank you. So, it had been Lucy who’d first approached everyone with the idea of creating their own high-end crime organization. It was amusing at first to think about an all-girl gang similar to the Yakuza… Oh, they all knew why Lucy came up with the idea to spite Natsu and the Yakuza’s rules, but it was an appealing idea. Everyone except for Levy’s family had some kind of ties to the Yakuza, so they were in essence raised in the lifestyle without ever being able to be a part of it because of their sex.

Together they brought their strengths into play and under Lucy’s business savvy thanks to her father, within just a short couple of years they were on the road to making a real name for themselves. Levy McGarden was at the heart of the organization as a tech person, and her skills in computer language is the reason they’re able to control a massively successful money laundering operation. Cana Alberona had great people skills, so she handled the escort services. Another, Erza Scarlet was the security expert who oversaw anything to do with the protection of their assets and employees. She also kept contacts with law enforcement. Mira Strauss handled the bookkeeping and financial side, and finally Juvia Lockser managed their soapland operation. Lucy herself held everything together but was the face of the group when dealing with knew contacts and clientele. Six primary women running the organization with underlings or regular staff to manage, they were nicknamed the Yosei girls because of the various fairy-type tattoos they all had somewhere on their bodies. Lucy preferred not to show hers to outsiders, but it was a pair of fanciful fairy-like wings that took up a large portion of her upper back. Natsu used to call her his angel back in the day…

The three girls sat huddled around Lucy’s desk after Levy dragged over a couple extra chairs.

“Seriously?” Cana knocked back a shot of sake and planted it on the table. “So, you didn’t have a chance to hit any marks?”

“Nope.” Lucy sipped from her glass. “Sure, I talked to some people, but I never made it past my first cocktail. He even blocked me from getting some action tonight from the hot bartender.”

Cana cringed. “That’s even worse!”

Levy giggled at her friend, “of course, you’d take offense to that Cana instead of the job.”

“Well,” Cana shrugged nonchalantly, “girls gotta take care of needs too, right? And if he was hot, that’s a real shame.”

The comment sent both Levy and Lucy into a giggle fit. Lucy may have started this out irritated but leave it to her friends to bring her out of her despair.

“Oh,” Lucy sighed and finished her glass, “the guy Loke was a total playboy too. Perfect for a no strings attached night.”

“Loke?” Cana questioned. “Orange hair and glasses?”

“You know him?— of course, you know him,” Lucy chuckled. “Why am I surprised.”

“I’ve seen him at other parties bartending. Flirts with all— the pretty girls. Very easy to get into bed, and not bad while in it. I got his number if you want it.”

“Natsu scared him pretty bad. I think Loke recognized him.”

“Hmm, that’s possible too. But hey, what Natsu doesn’t know…”

“Oh, my Kami, Cana! You are just too much sometimes!”

“Hey, just tryin’ to help out my bestie here,” she winked.

“Nah, I’m not in the mood tonight, Natsu really killed my joy.”

“He really thought that the guys there were gossiping about you?” Levy questioned. “Just because you didn’t have an escort?”

“Yeah, and you know even if he was right, he didn’t need to be a dick about it.”

Levy sighed, “he was probably right. It sucks, but that level of men, they look down on women like us. You provide a service, so to them they’re still using you which makes you beneath them.”

“And how dare a woman show up without a man by her side,” Cana rolled her eyes. “Oh well, less guilt for me when I’m taking their money,” she laughed.

Levy and Lucy laughed too, then Lucy raised a glass. “To taking their money! Cheers!”

“Cheers!” The girls clinked their glasses together and shot down their drinks.

“Speaking of escorts, how are things going Cana?” Lucy asked. They called their employees escorts because that’s the only service they provided. Think of them like high-end modern geisha without the traditional look. Their employed women provided companionship for events or business executives trying to look good and we’re trained well in hospitality, etiquette, and such to keep their dates happy. The women were highly compensated for what they did, so it was very lucrative for everyone. Sex was forbidden on the job and if a client ever tried to pressure an escort or roughed them up, they would be immediately barred from the service. However, if the infraction were bad enough, that’s when Erza would step in and handle things. The group was lucky this rarely took place because the male clientele they had wouldn’t want the shame of embarrassment either.

“Going great. We’re already getting booked up for the holidays and that still 4 months away. I guess they wanna make sure they can get certain girls before it’s too late.”

“Suckers.” Lucy snickered. “We’re using their own social norms against them, and they don’t even realize it.”

Between the three friends, they drank about half the bottle before slowing down. The conversation switched between work related topics, private lives, and back to Natsu until Lucy would switch the topic again. She knew of her buddy’s willful infatuation in her decades old battle with the man, but she just wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. Lucy still had a lot to process privately about the issues and though she loved Cana as a sister, Levy was the only one she’d really tell her deepest feelings to and now wasn’t the time to rehash anything. A few hours passed by when a knock at the door came. Another of their group was dropping by before heading out to work.

“Hey Juvia!” The three tipsy girls giggle at the same time.

“Wanna join us?” Cana questioned.

“Juvia would but she needs to check on Faerieland.”

“How is our soapland operation doing? Any problems I need to know about?” Lucy asked Juvia. The Faerieland bathhouse was the lowest level of their operations since flesh services were considered distasteful. But nevertheless, it was a highly profitable and legal one. What set them apart from all the others was the high-end quality of services offered to guests, providing both male and/or female “bathers” that clients could pay extra for to have a sexual experience. However, for that service, the client was required to be vetted by an inhouse doctor prior to a booking to make sure they were free of STD’s. Again, that was just one reason Faerieland was considered so high end and very exclusive. Some might have found it inconvenient, but most of the regulars appreciated the health factor. It’s what kept them coming back. All the employed bathers were screened regularly by an in-house doctor, and contrary to societal belief, were there by their own choice. So, the combination of anonymity, safety, and level of service kept the soapland business running with very little down times in between.

Juvia shook her head. “No problems, just busy due to the heat this time of year. Private bookings are scheduled out into next month.”

“That’s good to hear,” Levy smiled. “It’s nice that things have been running so smoothly.”

“Agreed,” Cana and Lucy chimed in.

“There is one thing Juvia should tell Lucy.” Her voice lowered, hesitant. “Mr. Natsu has an appointment booked for the end of the month. And he… just made it tonight.”

Lucy rolled her eyes and her voice dripped with irritation. “So, who’d he sign up to bang?”

“Nobody. Mr. Natsu only booked the deluxe bath and massage package. No sex.”

“Oh—” Lucy caught her surprise before she could show it, waving her hand nonchalantly as if she didn’t care. “W-well good for him. Not that I care if we’re making money of it.”

“Juvia is so relieved! She was worried you wouldn’t like him using our bath house.”

“It’s rare that he does,” Cana tapped her chin. “Hmmm, I wonder why he made the appointment tonight of all days…”

Levy slapped Cana on the arm, glaring at the woman to behave and Juvia just stood there wide-eyed and confused.

“What?!” Cana laughed. “I thought it was funny.”

“Ha-Ha,” Lucy mocked Cana. “What Natsu does is his own business and it’s not like he was trying to relieve himself tonight, the appointment is what, two and half weeks or so away? I’m not gonna lose sleep over it.”

“Okay… Juvia is confused but needs to go. Someone can fill Juvia in tomorrow.”

“Sorry, Juvia,” Levy apologized for the others. “I’ll fill you in later. But don’t worry! Everything is okay.”

“That’s good. Well then. Goodnight, everyone!” Juvia waved as she left the office.

“Goodnight!” The three waved.

“Cana,” Lucy reignited the debated now that Juvia was gone. “I don’t care if Natsu sleeps with other women, how can I when I have no problem sleeping with other men. We’re not a couple. But what does irritate me is that of all the bathhouses to choose, why mine??”

“It’s probably because of our services…” Levy threw in to diffuse the tension. “We do provide the best.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lucy sighed, “it just— it feels like he’s doing it on purpose.”

“You know I’m just teasing you, Lucy.” Cana retorted. “But I think you’re also reading too much into it. He’s a guy and history has shown a clueless one when it comes to women, so I doubt he’s masterminded going to the bathhouse as a way to irritate you.”

Lucy exhaled. “You guys are probably right. I guess I’m just still too wound up because of the party.”

“Maybe what you need to do is to unwind Lu,” Levy suggested.

Lucy sat back for a moment mulling over the idea. Yeah, maybe she should. It sure as hell wouldn’t hurt. Maybe let off some steam and stop thinking about Natsu, and a one-night fling could do just that. “You know what…” she turned to Cana with a new resolve. “What’s Loke’s number?”

Cana whipped out her phone. “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

[chibinekochan]

How to become a Demon Ruler 112

Part:   01 I 02  I 03  I 04 I 05  I 06 I 07 I 09 I 10 I 11

GN. Reader insert

taglist:  @ayesha95    ;  @nomnomcupcakesworld ;  @fex-phoenix   ; @depressed-bixch ;   @kitsune-oji   ;  @witch-o-memes

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  Another morning comes. Unlike the previous days, I'm woken up by Barbatos. 

"Time to rise and shine young master. Due to yesterday's events, we have to squeeze in another lesson, so I have to wake you up earlier." He sounds cheerful, but his tone gives me shivers. 

  I did not think he was mad at me yesterday but this is my punishment for sure.

  With a groan, I sluggishly get out of bed. "Good morning Barbatos." I yawn. I'm too tired to fight back. "Is there time for my morning shower?" 

"Certainly, and there is time for breakfast as well." Barbatos smiles calmly. 

  With an uncertain feeling, I get ready. I really have to get back on his good side. 

  Much to my surprise, Barbatos has prepared breakfast in my room today. "Please sit down and eat with your best manners today's meals will be part of your lessons." He certainly thought this through. 

  I do as he says and use my full arsenal of polished manners. Barbatos corrects me from time to time, but not any different than in our usual lessons. 

 I hope he can see that I'm working extra hard today. 

 "Very well, now we will perform a short test of your knowledge." Barbatos presents me with a small stack of papers. 

 I wish I had prepared for this. The test covers everything I have learned in these past days. Luckily enough it's multiple choice. 

 Barbatos quickly glances over my finished papers. "You passed, though your score is far from perfect." 

I feel very depressed about this, mainly because he usually compliments me. Even when I'm far from perfect. 

 I look at Barbatos. "I know I made you upset, but please forgive me." 

He looks at me seemingly confused. "I'm not upset. I simply want to know where you stand in terms of regular demons." Then he stops himself for a moment, placing a hand on his chin. He thinks for a moment. "I'll take that back. I'm upset about yesterday, but not for the reason that you assume."

"And what reason is that?" I look at him, confused. 

"Well, I wanted to choose the outfit with you but now lord Diavolo has taken that experience from me." His face makes no motion. 

I blink a few times at him. "We can just choose an outfit together next time." There isn't any issue in my opinion. 

"I am well aware of that, but it won't be the outfit for your first party in the devil dom." He sighs, this must be a bigger deal than I thought. 

"In that case, we can buy the outfit for my next milestone together." This sounds like a good idea. 

"I will look forward to that, and you did a good job on the test." With this, Barbatos seems to be back to normal. This makes me feel instantly better. 

 Barbatos continues to give me another lesson on the devildom, focusing on its countless dangers. He isn't over yesterday after all. 

 After this, it's finally time for something much more enjoyable. 

 Our baking "lesson". 

 Barbatos leads me to the kitchen. It's very impressive and yet again I don't see a single person around. 

 I pull out a recipe book. "We should start with something simple since I'm not used to the kitchen here." 

"Just tell me what you need." Barbatos seems very excited. 

 I list the ingredients for simple chocolate cookies. 

 Barbatos has everything ready at lightning speed. 

 Then we measure everything. Barbatos is very good at this step. Much as I expected from him to be honest. 

 Barbatos then turns the mixer on and explains the oven to me. Other than its demonic nature, it's a pretty straightforward oven.

 While we wait for the cookies, I show Barbatos the rest of the book. "All of these are very interesting. I think cookies would be the easiest gift. We can easily math out a huge batch that will satisfy Beelzebub." He is very fascinated by every single item in the book. 

"Sounds good to me. Maybe we can bake two different recipes to give him a bit of variety, but I wonder if there is something that caught your eye?" It seems to be fairly easy to find some for Beel but I'm curious about what Barbatos wants. 

"The cakes interest me the most. There are many options that I would love to serve with tea." He already has some ideas, it seems. 

"That sounds great, but I meant for yourself." I gently correct him. 

"Serving you and the young lord cake with tea is one of my greatest joys." Barbatos has no concept of accepting treats. 

"Then how about a cake for all of us together?" This is a great compromise in my opinion. 

"That sounds lovely. How about this cake in that case?" Barbatos points to one of the cakes in the book. 

"Sounds great to me." I already look forward to it. 

 We end up making 3 different types of cookies, after running out of hazelnuts. We make chocolate chip cookies, hazelnut cookies, and basic cookies with different decorations. 

 I feel pretty proud of the end product. I could probably open a store with all of them. "I think with this amount I can give each of the brothers, you and Diavolo a few to try them." 

 I look at the huge amount with a sense of pride.

  "I'd be honored to get some of these as a present. Barbatos smiles. 

"How about eating a few now?" I eye the delicious-looking cookies. 

"Certainly, we want to make sure they are good after all," Barbatos smirks at me. 

I like this side of Barbatos. I take a cookie and hand it to Barbatos and then grab one for myself. I take a bite. The sweet flavor spreads in my mouth. 

"How is it?" With big curious eyes, I look at him.

"It's absolutely delightful." A big smile spreads across his face.

I'm very happy about this. 

"But now I regret that I never asked you what your favorite cookies are." He sighs with regret. 

"Oh, that would be the chocolate chip cookies. They are simple but there's nothing above them for me." It's the very cookie we have just eaten. 

"No wonder it tastes so great. I will make sure to always remember that." Barbatos smiles at me gently. 

This causes my cheeks to grow hot. "I'm just glad you enjoy them."

"Should we start with the cake now?" Barbatos must really look forward to the cake. 

I smile at his enthusiasm. It's very nice to see a completely new side of Barbatos. Baking with him feels very casual. 

"Yes, first we need to prepare the biscuit dough and bake it." We both start to get to work. "It's funny since we have never done this before, but we are a great team." 

Barbatos nods. "You are right. We should do this again soon." He seems to enjoy this just as much as I do. 

"You are right, next time we need to bake some demon delights." I already look forward to that. 

"I have this great recipe that you will love. We should make that." He smiles at me naturally. He seems so different from his usual professional self. I would love to see much more of this side of him. 

"That sounds great. Maybe we can cook together too." I always enjoy his food but cooking together sounds fun. 

"That would be very lovely." He gently looks at me with a light smile on his face. Then suddenly he seems to remember his standing. "I mean that would be very inappropriate."

I feel a strong tug on my heart. "I need to learn about demon cuisine too." I try to convince him. 

He smiles and shakes his head. "Very nice try, but I can not let that slide."

I sigh disappointedly. "But what if I don't know the dish and its ingredients and someone wants to poison me?" I try something else. 

Barbatos raises his eyebrows. "You should never eat anything that I haven't given you."

"I just really enjoy doing things like this with you." In desperation, I try the honest approach. 

Barbatos blinks a few times. I guess I surprised him again. "I can't win here can I?"  Then he chuckles softly. "Alright, but only something easy and fun to cook." He shakes his head with a smile. 

I grin at my victory. "Sounds fair to me." 

He once again shakes his head and then turns to whip some cream. 

Once the cake is made, we decorate it. It looks very good. I sent a picture to Mammon, to make him jealous. It works. 

With great pride, Barbatos and I look at our creation."It's so pretty, it's almost a shame to eat it." 

"Indeed, but it's cake time so we will." Barbatos looks with great joy at the cake. 

I can only nod to that. 

I put a few cookies on a plate for Diavolo. 

Barbatos prepares everything else. I have seen him preparing the table many times already, but it's still very impressive.

We both wait for Diavolo to arrive. 

"It's so great to see. The worst part of my punishment was not being able to see you." Diavolo looks unusually gloomy. 

"That wasn't part of your punishment, the young master simply needed to work harder today." Barbatos calmly fills his cup with tea. 

"We were very busy. We made today's cake together and the cookies on your plate too." I try to cheer him up. 

"Oh, they look great. I'm so glad I finally get to try my siblings’ baking talents." Diavolos mood shifts in an instance. He gives me a big smile when he takes a cookie and bites into it with great delight. 

"I baked them with Barbatos, but I hope you will enjoy them." I can't take all the credit by myself. 

"I didn't do much." Barbatos doesn't seem to want the credit at all. In all honesty, he did most of the work. 

"They are great, the best I ever had." Diavolo doesn't seem to care either way. 

"I think that is giving them too much credit." My cheeks are once again hot. 

"Don't sell yourself short." Barbatos smiles at me while filling my cup up. 

"With all this praise I might become the first demon ruler with their own bakery." I giggle lightly. 

"Haha, I'd love to see that." Diavolo gives me a huge laugh. "Oh with all of this fun I almost forgot. We had to move the party to tomorrow. I know it's a big hassle. It just couldn't be helped." Diavolo drops this big news like it's nothing at all. 

I almost drop my cup. "TOMORROW?! I'm not ready whatsoever!" 

Barbatos raises an eyebrow. "Has that anything to do with the demon brothers?" 

"It's mainly because of Lucifer and then the new school year will start sooner than we planned to." Diavolo keeps on calmly drinking his tea. 

"This is very troublesome. I will have to go right away to make sure that everything will go smoothly." Barbatos sighs. 

"I can't believe it. How will I ever survive at this rate?" I feel so lost right now. 

"You will be fine. After all, I will be there to support you." Diavolo is not worried whatsoever. 

"I will support you as well and have no doubt that you will shine tomorrow. Due to this sudden change, I have to entrust today's dance lesson to Diavolo, as much as I regret it." Barbatos mumbles the last part.

"Does that mean my duties will be shorter today?" Diavolo shines as he asks this question. 

"No." Barbatos coldly refuses his request without another word. 

Diavolo shrugs. "Then I will just do my best to be fast today."

"You should strive for that every day." Barbatos looks at Diavolo with narrowed eyes. "Anyway, you don't need to worry at all about tomorrow." Barbatos once again encourages me with a gentle smile. 

I can only hope that he is right. 

"He is right. There is no way the demon brothers won't love you." To answer my thoughts, Diavolo speaks up. 

"Exactly, even I personally would be happy enough with them being cordial towards you." Barbatos shakes his head. 

I start to chuckle. "That sounds like you are jealous."

Barbatos seems surprised and coughs a little bit. 

Wait does that mean he is jealous? Well, he might just be overprotective. 

Then Barbatos seems to remember that he has to be somewhere. "I should get going." 

"Yes, please don't worry about us." Diavolo gives Barbatos a kind smile. Barbatos looks critical at Diavolo. 

"I will keep him in line." I can imagine what goes through his head. 

Barbatos lights up instantly. "I will leave him in your capable hands." 

Diavolo shakes his head. "I can take care of myself you know."

Barbatos doesn't acknowledge Diavolo and leaves. He couldn't even finish his cake. 

"Of course you can, I think he just likes teasing you." At least something like that. 

"Maybe but he might be right too." Diavolo sighs. "I can see why my father adopted you. He probably wanted to motivate me."

"I'm not sure how a simple human could motivate you, but I'm glad if I have that effect on you. Honestly after seeing what it's really like I don't think I even want to become the demon ruler." I never wanted this in the first place. 

"Not any human of course, but you certainly do. Ever since you came here I feel more motivated to push my big plan forward. The union between all of the realms. Ever since meeting you, my plan seems more attainable than ever." He looks at me with full sincerity.

 He is usually so goofy that it's a completely different feeling from usual. 

"It's a great vision, and I think if anyone can do it's you, and if I can support you in any kind of way I will," I say this with my full heart behind it. 

"Thank you, you don't know how much these words mean to me…" Diavolo stops himself. "Never mind, we should clean this up and finish today's work." 

I'm sure he wanted to say or ask something important just now but stopped himself. I wonder what he was about to tell me, but I can't bring myself to ask. 

I only nod and quickly put everything back onto the cart and into the kitchen. Putting everything away, only leaving a cup and the rest of the cake for Barbatos.

  Then I read a bit while Diavolo finishes his work.

  Diavolo seems very exhausted once he is done. Lucky for him, I saw this coming and prepared him some coffee. "You worked very hard today, drink this to recharge."

"How thoughtful of you, at this rate you might steal Barbatos' job." He seems very happy about my compliment and the coffee. 

I giggle. "Nobody can do that."

"You are right." He smiles gently. "I'd also feel strange if you start calling me my lord." He seems to find this thought very amusing. 

"You are right, that would be strange." With that, we go to the dance hall. 

Diavolo fumbles with the record player and then a slow waltz starts playing. 

"Do you still remember the steps?" Diavolo seems slightly concerned. 

"Yeah, but I might still step on your feet." I'm unsure of my skills, to say the least. 

"Just take it slow and just focus on me." Diavolo gets into the right pose.

  I'm used to it, but Diavolo is taller than Barbatos and differently built so it's a completely new experience to dance with him. 

Diavolo starts to move slowly, and I can easily follow his lead. It feels very natural. 

It doesn't feel like practice somehow but like we even when I still make sure not to step on him. 

He smiles at me. "We should dance more freely if we can in the future."

"You mean like at a normal party or a club?" I'm not sure what he means. 

"The kind of party we have tomorrow is normal for me but I suppose. I'd like to experience a regular party in your world too." Diavolo looks deep into my eyes. 

"That sounds like fun. Have you ever been to a devildom disco?" Our conversation just naturally flows away from tomorrow. 

"I have, but I could never mingle. There are always exceptions and usually, people are scared of me." Diavolo looks just a bit sad. 

"We should throw a casual party then. With only our friends. I mean I don't have many in the devildom yet but I'm sure it will be fun." I smile at the idea. 

"That sounds wonderful." Diavolo has a strange smile on his face. 

His schedule might not allow something like that. 

"We can always just have fun together too. Just dancing like this is also very nice." I try to cheer him up. 

"Actually, I want to ask you before tomorrow… Do you like the devildom?" It sounds like this question was weighing heavy in his heart. At least his eyes tell me so. 

"Of course. I have only seen very little of it, but I love what I have seen so far." To me, it's not even a question, to be honest. 

Diavolo seems honestly deeply relieved. "I'm glad." He seems to be holding me a bit closer now. There seems more to his words. Something he isn't saying right now.

  I suppose he will tell me soon enough. I fully trust Diavolo. Strangely, I feel like this already. It's not even a week since I know him and yet here I am barely able to imagine my time before I came here.

  "What is on your mind?" Diavolo notices my absentminded thoughts. 

"Sorry, I was just thinking how funny it is that I feel so at ease here even after such a short amount of time." I feel embarrassed about spacing out. 

"I see, that is a great thing. You adapted so quickly, it's amazing. You truly are amazing all around." Diavolo has such a kind expression on his face. 

"I'm just normal. I think it's all thanks to you and Barbatos." I can't think of anything special that I have done. 

"Well, I gladly take the credit if you want to. I think we should stop for today. Tomorrow will be a long day for you." He seems sad to stop. 

I feel the same way. As soon as he lets me go, I feel like a great deal of warmth leaves with him. 

"You are right. I will just fix something to eat for myself. Do you want something too?" I don't feel like heading to bed without dinner. 

"That's such a sweet offer but dinner is already prepared in our rooms tonight. Such a shame really." Diavolo seems to have some regrets about this. 

"Oh I see, have a pleasant night Diavolo." I don't manage to fully hide my disappointment.

"Yes, have sweet dreams." There seems to be a flicker of sadness in his eyes too.

  We both don't say anything else and go our separate ways. 

Dinner feels so lonely tonight that I can't fully enjoy it.

  I feel utterly unmotivated tonight and just fall on my bed after changing into my Pajamas. 

[infernwetrust]

The Devil In Me [Michael Langdon x Fem Reader] Part 2

PART 1 HERE

MASTER LIST

Plot: What if we took the Antichrist, Michael Langdon and turned him into founder and leader of one of the largest cartel’s in California? And what’s even better, is that you’re by his side through it all.

Summary: You awake to family man, Michael and preparations for a trip to Miami take place. Duncan comes to a rude awakening. 

Warnings: domestic violence, drug use, swearing, threats, fluff, angst, mentions of loss of life, child loss, emotional, this is like kind of dark y’all.

WC: 4.0k

A/N: This was not suppose to take this long to write. It was a little emotionally taxing for me, so I had to space out when I was writing it because I would literally get stuck in a dark place. Thank you for reading! -Juno

The smell of pancakes and warm syrup hit your nose first upon fluttering your eyes open. Usually you were greeted by the warmth of your husband who either lay near by or cuddled you. But it appears that he isn't in bed this morning. He did, however, leave the curtains open just a little bit to let some sunlight in. Just enough for you to be able to see around the room. Grabbing your phone off the side table you checked the time which read, 8:30AM. You groaned, knowing that today was packed to the brim with various activities. Travel being one of them.

When Michael offered to take you and the kids with him, Duncan, and Jim to Miami, how could you say no? It was a business trip, of course, but nonetheless you were still grateful to be going. Duncan had just sealed the deal on a brand new warehouse, perfect for operations and expanding their network. Located in the heat of downtown Miami, they blended in well. And what was their front for it all? A nightclub.

You slowly pulled the covers off of you, yawning as you got up, stretching your arms over your head. You smiled as you stared down at the floor, remembering the events that took place after you and Michael's shower the previous night. It wasn't long before he had you out of your night gown for round 2. You picked it and your pair of panties off the floor, throwing them back on and making your way to the bathroom. Hickeys and bite marks covered your chest as you turned the sink on, splashing water on your face before washing it all together. You quickly brushed over your teeth, knocking your morning breath out. You knew you would return shortly after you ate to brush them again anyways.

Throwing on your favorite pair of house shoes you made your way down the stairs and immediately into the kitchen. The sight in front of you made your heart swell. On the table were 3 plates, stacked with pancakes, bacon, and eggs. In a nearby bowl, fruit. Two glasses, for you and him of course, filled to the brim with orange juice. But that's not what made your heart swell. Michael, for the most part, always waited for you before he started eating.

Michael sat at the dining table, hair messy, shirtless, and in gray sweat pants. Sat up in his lap was Junior, the back of his head firmly planted into Michael's chest. In Junior's hand was a piece of pancake that he simply just shoved into his mouth, his eyes glued to whatever Michael had put on his phone for the boy to watch. With him distracted, Michael had his attention on little Malcolm who sat in his high chair, which he had moved closer to him. You watched as Michael fed him his favorite flavored yogurt to which the boy smiled in returned after his father took the spoon from his mouth.

You cursed yourself for forgetting your phone in the bedroom and you wish you could capture this exact moment forever. But there would always be opportunity for more. Michael is nothing shy of a family man and you know he always enjoys his boys being near by, even on the days where he's just fed up with it all. Feeling a pair of eyes lingering on him, Michael turned his head to look, a smile on his face when he made eye contact with you.

"Hi mama." Malcolm said, also noticing your presence, briefly taking his attention away from Michael's phone to look at you, his face a mess.

"Hi mommy's messy baby." you replied, walking over to give him a kiss on his forehead, followed by 3 quick kisses against Michael's lips. "And hello to you too."

"Why, hello." Michael responded. "So nice of you to join us."

"And miss out on your pancakes? No way, sir."

Michael didn't cook often, but when he did, he made it count. You wondered where he picked up his cooking skill. And then you saw him one day, in the kitchen, following the personal chef around. That day he had even wore his own little apron.

"Hey." Michael said to his personal chef, who stuck by his side since the beginning, Dawn. He stood at the kitchen counter with her, tall and proud. His blonde hair covered by a chef hat.

"Yes, Michael dear." she responded, pausing what she was doing to look at him.

"Don't tell Y/N, okay?" he asked her. "I want it to come as surprise when I do actually cook."

"Of course. I'll even teach you how to make some of her favorites."

He smiled at her again before the two resumed what they doing. You could snap a picture right now, you thought to yourself. How his brothers would LOVE to see Michael's EXTRA soft side, but you stood put, the widest smile and deepest blush on your face as you watched your then, fiancé, learn how to cook for you.

You walked over to Malcolm's high chair, grabbing his also messy face and lightly squeezing his cheeks together before sticking your tongue out at him. He giggled, attempting to wrap his tiny hand around your wrist.

"Don't worry, mommy didn't forget about you." you said. "Finally letting your dad feed you, huh?"

"I know, huh?" Michael huffed out. "No fighting before hand either."

"He's sweet when wants to be." You joined Michael at the table, sliding your hand across his back as you did so.

"Daddy, I'm done." Junior said, looking up at his father.

"That's my boy." Michael praised, kissing the top of his head. Junior almost never finished his food, so when he did, it was worthy of praise. "Go play the living room for a bit,'I'll grab you to come brush your teeth in a minute, okay?"

"Kay." the boy replied as he hopped off Michael's lap and ran into the living room, excited to get his hands on one of his toys.

"No mess either please, baby!" you yelled, hoping he would hear you. Michael smirked because as you said that, the both of you heard the toy box dump out. "Shit..."

"Bold of you to assume that he wasn't going to do that." Michael mocked.

"You hush and tell me what the plans are for today." You earned a small chuckle from him as he laid his hand over your knee, quickly glancing at Malcolm who had now took the matters of eating yogurt into his own hands, literally. All over his hair, face, and hands, yogurt. Michael pouted at the sight even though it was cute.

"Daddy was so hoping that he wouldn't have to give you a bath before we left." Michael sighed. "But silly daddy for looking away for 2 minutes, huh?" Michael reached his hand out to tickle the yogurt covered child.

"You still have so much to learn." you said. "Rule 1. Never take your eyes off the baby in the high chair."

"That is so not rule 1, Y/N."

You and Michael talked for what seemed like hours while the two of you ate breakfast. He started by letting you know why everyone was going to Miami. It was so fascinating to you how he was always so well informed. He told you everything, down to the exact number in income this would generate both from the nightclub sales and the narcotics sale. Jim wanted to set up a marijuana plant down there, but Duncan had convinced him that the best place to grow for right now was right here in California. He even showed you the floor layout of the both the nightclub and the underground warehouse on his phone.

Along the minor details were where everyone was going to be staying, how everyone was going to be transported around Miami, fun things to do when there was free time, and some really popular places to dine.

"Ready to give Malcolm a bath?" Michael questioned as he took the last drink of his orange juice.

"Um." You began. "That was your job."

"Just seeing if you were paying attention." he grinned, getting up to clear the table. You watched as he throughly rinsed the dishes off before putting them in the dishwasher. Most of the time you or one of the housekeepers kept up with the home duties, but Michael knew when he needed to step in and he did, every so often, just like today. Despite his extremely busy schedule, he gave you your break because you always took care of him through and through.

"Thinking about cutting my hair when we get to Miami, yeah?"

"Michael, who do you know in Miami that can cut your hair?"

"I don't know, but Duncan does."

"How short are you thinking about cutting it?"

"Something along the lines of Duncan, but just a little longer."

"Ooo you know that's-,"

"One of your favorites. Yes my love, I do know." He turned around to face you, leaning against the counter, giving you a wink.

"And the blonde just tops it off. God, I love you."

"I love you too." Michael laughed. "Fortunate to be the only blonde out of triplets, huh?"

///

The both of them laid there, her head against his chest, sweat making their bodies glisten as the moon light shined through the window of her bedroom. This isn't the first time Duncan has hooked up with Michael's head bartender, Elizabeth. In fact, it quickly became a regular thing, the two of them finding peace within one another through a common pain. Loss. If he was stupid enough, he would actually think he was falling in love with her. Was he? He knew he really liked her and that he enjoyed her company, whether it be platonic or sexual. But it wasn't love was it? Her fingers ran circles around his chest as it rose and fell gently.

Elizabeth was just a few inches shorter than Duncan, light brown eyes, a smile that could kill, and a body that Duncan absolutely adored. Usually for Duncan, his one night stands, stayed one night stands. But with her it was different. He liked the chase. And when he finally did fuck her, he ruined her. But his trips to the bar when she worked became regular and soon enough they began talking. And of course their relationship remained private.

"I could lay here with you forever." Duncan said, breaking the silence.

"Then why don't you?" she questioned.

"You know why, Liz." Duncan sighed.

"Duncan, anyone with eyes can see how unhappy you are." She lifted up a little bit, propping her head up in her hand before resting her other one back on Duncan's chest. "She's done nothing but drain you."

"I know."

"Then if you know why don't you just leave her?"

"It's not that simple."

Truth is, she reminded him so much of, Thomas, Tommy for short. When Duncan had lost his 3 year old son, Tommy, a year after Michael stumbled across Bryce, his entire world fell apart. She was the only living memorabilia that he had left of his precious Tommy. How could he leave that behind? No matter how toxic she was, he couldn't pull himself away and that was the only reason.

He had long fallen out of love with Tommy's mother way before they lost him. But for his son, he stayed with her and put up with all the shit she put him and their son through. And then all it took was one careless mistake and he was gone. And it's been 3 years. No he's not over it. No he hasn't forgiven her for leaving their son unattended. No he doesn't know how to move on, not yet.

When Duncan stumbled into his luxurious penthouse that he shared with, Samantha, he felt uneasy. He took his shoes off at the door, gently setting them down. He walked, slowly, to the master bedroom where the door was just cracked open slightly. And now he had his reason.

The exact same guy she told him not to worry about, was the exact same guy who laid in his bed, curled up against his, well, could he even say girlfriend? He took a deep breath, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. What could he even say? What could he even do? And then he just snapped. He walked in, grabbing the guy by his throat and taking his pistol out of his waist band, pressing it between his eyes.

"Woah man! What the fuck?!" he yelped, startling Samantha awake.

"You have 10 seconds to get your shit up off this floor and get the fuck out of my house before I blow your brains out." Duncan said through a clenched jaw.

"Duncan wa-," Samantha began to say but he cut her off.

"Shut up, bitch."

The guy wasted no time picking his clothes up off the floor and scurrying out of the room, Duncan pointing his gun at him the entire time. Duncan slammed the bedroom door shut behind him, scratching his head with his gun before throwing his hand back down to his side.

"Please don't kill me." Samantha begged on the brink of tears. Duncan chuckled, walking over to her quickly causing her to scream.

"Shut up." he grabbed her by her throat, slamming her down on the bed.

"Dunc, please... I'm sorry."

"I'm gonna talk now. And you're gonna listen. And when I'm done, you're gonna pack all of your shit and you're gonna leave. And if you don't, I'll kill you."

///

Michael took it upon himself to go get Duncan. He was suppose to come over early to meet with him and Jim to go over some analytics before leaving for Miami in evening, but as Michael continued to talk to Jim and continued looking at the time, Duncan still wasn't here. He had tried calling and texting, but he had no success. He had you and Jim try as well, but no success. He was worried now, so he made the 10 minute drive to his brother's apartment.

It was a mutual agreement to have spare keys for everyone's residency, but only for emergencies. Michael unlocked the door to his brother's place, quickly noticing where he left his shoes. So he was home and that was reassuring, but, Duncan never left his shoes by the door. Michael did the same, however, leaving his shoes by the door so he could tread lightly. He could hear a faint noise coming from Duncan's bedroom that only intensified the closer he got. That faint noise was now replaced clearly by arguing, but it sounded one sided. It was just Duncan that was yelling, but underneath all that yelling he heard a softer voice, crying.

Michael inhaled deeply, gently putting his hand on the doorknob. Every second that he stood there, slowly turning the knob as to not make a single sound, felt like a minute. He pushed the door open as far as he could, but Duncan in his new heightened rage, noticed. Still holding Sam down by her throat, he pointed his gun at the door.

"Woah woah woah." Michael said calmly, putting his hands up for Duncan to see. "It's just me."

"Do we not knock now anymore?" Duncan questioned, his eyes red and stained with tears as he looked his brother in his face.

"You weren't answering any of our phone calls and we got worried. I just came to check on you. Can you stop pointing that thing at me? I'm your brother, man. Just put down all together. I'm sure this is something that can be talked over."

"You first." Duncan replied, squinting his eyes.

"Dunc, you have go to be-,"

"I said you first!"

"Okay. Okay." Michael said, reaching behind him to pull his gun out, which he clearly showed to Duncan, finger off the trigger. He squatted down slowly, putting it on the floor, before kicking it to the side.

"Talked over?" Duncan mocked. "Her being the reason behind Tommy's death is something that can just be talked over?! Me coming home to another man in my bed is something that can just be talked over?!"

Michael knew the history behind Duncan and Samantha. Everyone did and while they tried their hardest to convince him to call it quits, Duncan never listened. He was too afraid to let go. Michael knew one day that his brother would snap underneath all his bottled up stress, but he didn't think it would of been this long and unexpectedly. Today out of all days.

"Okay." Duncan continued, tightening his grip on her neck as she just laid there, speechless, the tears pouring out of her eyes as she held onto to Duncan's arm. "So we talk out and then what? She gets to move on right? And be happy because it doesn't look like any of the shit we've gone through has affected her any. In and out of my life for 7 years, Michael. I'm 28 now."

"D-,"

"In and out of Tommy's life for 3 years he was alive. I basically was a single dad, but I kept letting this bitch come back because I loved her and when has ole Duncan ever loved a woman, huh? I should just kill her." Duncan turned his attention back to her, putting the gun back against her forehead.

"Duncan, I know you're still hurting over Tommy. Fuck, man. We all are, but what is killing her going to fix? It's not going to bring Tommy back. It's not going to take away the pain you're feeling. Duncan, you lost a child."

"It'll be justice for, Tommy."

"How do you know that this is what Tommy wanted? You don't. Listen to me, please."

"She doesn't get to walk away again." He cocked his gun, pressing it to her forehead again. Duncan, caught up in his own rage didn't even realize that Michael had stepped closer to him and he was still coming. "Why do you deserve to live? You took away someone else's life, so it's only fair right?"

"Duncan I didn't mean for Tommy to be killed!" she yelled through her tears.

"Bullshit!" he yelled back, when Michael grabbed him, wrapping his arm around his neck, before roughly pulling him away, causing him to drop the gun, which Michael swiftly kicked towards himself, picking it up and pointing it at Samantha, arm still locked around Duncan.

"You need to leave, now." Michael said, Duncan fighting to get out of his tight hold. "Get your clothes on, take your personals and just, leave. We'll send everything to your brother when we get back from our trip. If you ever show your face near or around Duncan or anyone he's close to again, I'll make sure they can't find your body, deal?" She nodded, quickly trying to get herself together, stumbling around as she tried to catch her breath. Michael waited until she was completely gone before releasing Duncan, who immediately turned around, shoving Michael back.

"Fuck you." he spat through his tears he finally let fully fall. "Why do you always get to save the day, huh?" Duncan shoved Michael again and he kept shoving him. When Michael got tired, he pushed Duncan's hands away, pulling his brother in for a tight hug instead.

"I can't say I fully understand how you're feeling, Dunc. But I can say that I get it." Michael said in the hug. "And I'm here for you. We all are." Duncan softened just a little bit, allowing for him to return the hug to Michael.

"I-," Duncan began to say, but he choked on his own words.

"You don't have to say anything. Just go get cleaned up and ready to go, okay? I'll probably be in your kitchen. Jim says you have really good snacks." Duncan pulled back to look Michael in his eyes again and he couldn't help but chuckle just a little bit.

"Yeah, okay." was all he said as he turned around to walk into his bathroom. Shutting the door behind him, he took one look at himself in the mirror. His face scratched from where Sam had grabbed him when he first choked her. His eyes red stained from his tears. He sighed, opening the medicine cabinet, retrieving a small vial with a white powdery substance in it. He put a some on the back of his hand before snorting it up his nose. He exhaled loudly, letting the tears fall again as he put it back up, coming face to face with himself again.

Great. His nose was bleeding. He quickly unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it onto the floor. He was going to reach for a towel, when he came face to face with the tattoo that took up his entire left side. He paid 4,000 dollars for the whole thing. It was a very detailed sketch of his favorite moment with Tommy. He shocked him every time how realistic it looks, but Jim always hooked his brothers up with the best because he knew they would do the same for him. It's Duncan and Tommy, both squatted down. Duncan has his arms wrapped around the boy as he's holding a model toy fire truck. In the background was a very detailed Christmas tree as it was Tommy's birthday on the 25th of December. In beautiful scripted font below it says:

Thomas 2016-2019

And a little hand print that matches, Tommy's to complete it. He gripped both sides of the sink, staring into his own eyes once again as he cried, but he couldn't help but laugh too because of how stupid he was.

"I'm so sorry, Tommy." he said. "I'm so so so sorry. And I'll keep saying it because I know I will never be sorry enough. I miss you so much."

///

The car ride was silent between Duncan and Michael as they drove back to Michael's home. Michael let him get his usual morning coffee. And when Michael stopped at the store because Jim wanted another pack of cigarettes, he got Duncan his favorite pack too. It was rare that Duncan ever smoked, though, but Michael knew he needed it. He even let him smoke one in the car, sunroof and windows cracked. He didn't even bother to try to hide his dilated pupils from his coke intoxication, the only thing that was keeping him grounded. His head rested against the window and he stared blankly, but his mind was far from blank.

When they got back, Michael helped Duncan move his bags over to the car they would be using to go to the airport. Duncan trailed behind Michael as they walked around to the back, where Jim sat in one of outdoor sofas, typing away on his business computer. All it took was one glance over and Jim could see that Duncan had been crying.

Duncan sat down next to Jim, taking out another cigarette from his box and lighting it. Michael tossed Jim his own box to which Jim smiled and nodded before turning his attention back to his other, clearly distraught, sibling. Jim threw his arm around Duncan's shoulder, pulling him closer to him, resting his temple against Duncan's. He wasn't going to question him. He knew that he would be told when Duncan was ready. But considering Duncan's state at home, he already kind of had an idea.

"We're gonna have a kick ass 3 weeks, okay?" Jim said. "The 3 of us. Like it's always been. Palm trees and beach babes. And I know whatever has got you so upset, sucks, but we're right behind you. I'm sure you know that."

And then Duncan began letting the tears fall once again as Jim tried to console him. He use to be the head strong one of the pack before he let Sam into his life. And now he was stuck and confused, searching for answers and searching for reasons why. He exhaled his cigarette slowly before tossing it into the ashtray.

"Let's just go over these analytics, yeah?" Duncan croaked out. "Business is business boys."

"That's my boy." Jim said, patting and squeezing his shoulder.

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid @9layerdevilfoodcake  @xavierplympton @guiltyfiend @theneverendinghunger

[ifmywishescametrue]

numbers are hard

also on ao3

Steve has been acting strange all day, and for the life of him Tony can’t figure out why. It starts with sex when they first wake up, which isn’t all that weird. More tender than usual, slower and sweeter than most days, but nothing that makes him question anything right away. The only slightly abnormal part is that Steve skips his run entirely for it, but it’s happened before. 

Breakfast is the first real sign that something is up, when Steve breaks out all of the stops to produce french toast dusted with powdered sugar and topped with sliced strawberries. It’s quite the step up from his everyday toast and eggs, and his grin when Tony compliments his cooking is brighter than the morning sun coming in through the wall of windows. 

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Tony says, dragging a piece of french toast through a puddle of maple syrup. 

Steve leans over, and the kiss he plants on Tony’s cheek is slightly sticky. “You deserve something nice today.”

Tony chews his bite slowly, processing that. Nice today, implying that today is different than other days. He checks the date on his phone as inconspicuously as possible. 

There’s nothing significant that strikes him about May 10th. He has a couple weeks to go until his birthday, five more days until the anniversary of their first kiss. Another eight until the anniversary of their first real date. May 10th couldn’t be less special if it tried, really. 

For now Tony shrugs it off, chalks it up to just another Steve thing. Like the way he wears socks to bed, but only in December, and drinks a different flavor of tea for every day of the week. 

But then it continues throughout the morning. Steve asks him to go for a walk with him in Central Park, and he seems more affectionate than usual when they’re in public. With the Captain America mantle hanging heavy on his shoulders, Steve has typically always been more reserved around others. Their relationship has never been a secret, but Tony knows for a fact that there is exactly one paparazzi photo of them kissing in existence. There are quite a few more with hand holding, maybe the occasional shot of Steve’s arm slung around his shoulder, but never more than that. 

Today, Steve kisses him on the pedestrian bridge as they lean against the railing, then again when Tony gets ice cream on his lips from the cones they buy from a street vendor.  

“You’re in a very good mood today,” Tony observes on their walk back to the tower. 

Steve smiles, “Why shouldn’t I be? It’s a good day.”

Tony nods in agreement, though he still isn’t sure what separates today from all the rest. 

At some point it stops being strange and starts giving him anxiety. Weird turns into terror-inducing, because he has to be missing something, right? Boyfriends don’t just wake up one day and decide to be extra caring for no reason at all. 

He thinks about asking, but what if he really has missed something important? He can picture the look on Steve’s face when he realizes that Tony has forgotten something that clearly matters to him. The way his eyes will widen slightly, brows turning down and shoulders slumping. Then his face will close off again, turning perfectly neutral to hide the hurt and disappointment. He’ll say it’s not a big deal, but Tony will know he’s lying. 

So he stays quiet through the afternoon while he works in the lab on team upgrades and Steve sits on the couch and sketches. It’s easily the most normal part of the entire day, and Tony basks in the quiet comfort of just co-existing with the person he loves. 

Steve goes upstairs after a few hours, kissing Tony’s cheek and patting the bots’ metal arms as he goes. He tells Tony to be on time for dinner, and his voice is more pointed than usual, which is why Tony heads up early to be able to shower off the grease from his hands and arms. 

There’s a candle burning on the table when he walks into the dining room post-shower and a vase of flowers sitting a safe distance away from the flame. Tony freezes at the sight, but hopefully Steve doesn’t notice as he comes into the room with two plates. 

He smiles softly as he sets them down and pulls out Tony’s chair for him. Tony reaches for the glass of red wine the second he sits down. He’ll need it for the night ahead of him. 

The dish in front of him is some type of pasta in a creamy red sauce, and after the first bite he asks, “Did you make this pasta yourself?”

Steve nods, and even in the dim lighting Tony can see the way his ears have gone pink. “I had to practice a couple of times to get it right. Luckily Clint volunteered to taste test.”

Now Tony is downright desperate to know what he’s missing, but still unwilling to ask. So he hopes he can be vague enough in his conversation to get Steve to say it. 

“I don’t know how I deserve all that work, but thank you.”

Steve’s response, while sweet enough to melt Tony’s heart, doesn’t help. “You’ve done a lot for me. It’s really the least I could do for you.”

He keeps failing all throughout dinner. Every time he vaguely talks about the significance of the day, Steve answers with something that would probably make sense if Tony was on the same page as him. 

It’s in the kitchen after dinner that he finally breaks. 

“I can do these,” Tony says, gesturing to the sink full of dishes. “Seeing as you cooked and all.”

Steve wraps his arms around him from behind, breath ghosting over Tony’s neck as he ducks down to kiss him there. 

“Or,” Steve murmurs, “we could just leave them there for tomorrow.”

“What?” Tony asks. He twists around in Steve’s hold and presses his palm to Steve’s forehead. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to get sick anymore, but you’re clearly delirious.”

Steve laughs, “I’m not delirious, and I’m not sick either. I just want to make the most of our anniversary.”

Tony’s mind goes blank. That was the one thing he was sure he could eliminate from possibilities. He frowns, “It’s not our anniversary. Our anniversary is next week. May 15th.”

Steve’s face crinkles. “No, it’s today. May 10th.”

“On May 15th, you came down to my lab after that mission in New Jersey, and you yelled at me a whole bunch about being reckless - which you were wrong about, by the way - and then you kissed me and I asked you out.”

Steve looks at him like he’s grown a second head, and his arms drop from around Tony’s waist. “On May 10th, we came home from a mission, I rightfully told you that you were being reckless, I kissed you because you told me to make you shut up, and then I told you that I was in love with you. Nothing happened on May 15th.”

“No, no, I know it was May 15th because I thought it was ironic that we got together on the two year anniversary of when you called me an asshole for the first time, and I know what day that was because I marked it on your calendar as a joke, and then you called me an asshole for the second time.”

“It’s May 10th because we had our first date on May 13th. We went to that theater, because they were showing Friday the Thirteenth, and you said that I had to see it because everyone else has.”

“JARVIS, please tell Steve that he’s wrong.”

Steve scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, “You’re about to be really upset when your own creation betrays you by telling you I’m right.”

JARVIS cuts off Tony’s snarky reply before it can finish forming. “According to my data, the event that you both have described occurred on May 7th of last year.”

Tony and Steve exchange a look, and it’s painfully silent until JARVIS speaks again, “I can provide the recording of this event if you would like.”

Tony waves his hand through the air to dismiss the suggestion. “No, that’s okay, J. We believe you.”

Steve rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, and his face turns pink. “So I guess we missed our anniversary.”

Tony dissolves into laughter, and Steve stays serious for all of three seconds before he’s joining in. He hooks his arms around Steve’s neck, getting on his tiptoes as he pulls Steve down to meet him in the middle. Steve’s hands cover his hips completely, warm on his skin even through his t-shirt. 

“Happy one year and three days?” Tony offers. 

It’s one year and two days longer than he ever thought they would make it. He expected Steve to change his mind after the first day, when Tony was such a nervous wreck that Steve had to be wondering how he ever got his reputation for a playboy in the first place. And when that didn’t happen, he expected Steve to grow tired of him. To come to the same realization that every other significant other has reached throughout the years - that he isn’t worth the effort. 

But here they are 368 days later, and Steve still wants him. He would call it a miracle if he believed in that kind of thing, but the reality is that against all odds, they just work together. There’s no one else he would rather be with, and he knows that Steve feels the same. 

Steve smiles, “Happy one year and three days.”

[vintagedolan]

forgetful (egd)

it’s not like Ethan to forget things, so there’s no way he forgot your birthday... right?

word count: 4.2k

requested by: anon (thank you beeb!) 

warnings/tags: sad!ethan, forgetting of a birthday, panic attack, mentions of sean, angst (but it’s resolved cause im a weak fluffy bitch oops)

feel free to send in requests! i’ll write most things! hope you enjoy :)

This was one elaborate plan, you’d give him that. And he was hiding everything so well that you were ridiculously impressed. You went along with it, not wanting him to think that you were suspicious of anything.

“You all packed?” You asked, pouting a bit as he zipped up his bag and stood it up on its wheels. 

“Yep. It’s just for a few days, I’ll be back on Thursday. Need some family time with Mom,” he reassured you. 

Thursday. Your birthday. 

You never really made a big deal out of birthdays but after you had gotten Ethan two new custom longboards for his, he had promised you an epic celebration for your big day. And he hadn’t let you in on the secret at all. It took all your self control not to pry and ask questions as you followed him out to the car where Grayson was waiting. Was he even going to Jersey? Or was this all some big ploy? You wouldn’t put it past him. Either way, you knew you weren’t going to see him for a few days, which pulled at your heart strings a bit.

“Okay, well fly safe, and let me know when you all get there,” you wrapped your arms around his torso, squeezing tight. He nuzzled into your hair for a moment, squeezing you even tighter than he usually did. Between the way he was talking and that, you could tell something was definitely going on. 

“I will. I love you,” he said, leaning down to kiss you goodbye. It was quicker than usual. It only convinced you more.

“Love you too,” you smiled at him, letting go and moving to hug Grayson goodbye. You waved until they were out of sight before going inside, with a million thoughts of what he could be up to running through your head. 

He text you a quick made it safe about 6 hours later, right on time for a landing in New Jersey. You sent back some hearts and a response. 

Have fun hanging with your mom, I know you’ve missed her. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I love you! It was a subtle way of trying to assure him that he didn’t need to be talking to you when he should be visiting with his family. 

He sent back a I will baby, I love you too and you left it at that. 

The next day went by fairly slow for a Monday. You piddled around the house, getting some work done and generally just relaxing. Ethan FaceTimed you around noon, and was acting even weirder than before. Something was definitely up, and you couldn’t help but get a little bit excited. He must be planning something big if he was this nervous about it. 

Tuesday was even weirder. He sent you a good morning text, but you didn’t hear from him again until that evening, and when he called you could tell that he was exhausted and wasn’t much in the mood for talking. It puzzled you some, but worried you more than anything. 

“Are you okay baby? You seem a bit off,” you asked.

“Yeah, I’m just tired. I need to go to bed. I love you.”

“I love you too, get some rest.” 

By Wednesday, you were actually starting to get concerned. You considered texting Grayson - if Ethan was actually upset about something, his brother would probably tell you. But you felt bad at the idea of going behind Ethan’s back so you waited. 

It was 9pm your time, which was midnight back in Jersey, when he finally facetimed you. He was in a bit higher spirits, which made you smile. His day was much more interesting than yours had been, so you listened to him talk about anything and everything, just content to hear his voice. When he finally got through all the events, he asked all about yours. There wasn’t much to tell, but you walked him through.

“I’m sure tomorrow will be more eventful,” you teased, rolling your eyes a bit.

“Yeah, about that. Cam is coming to surprise mom tomorrow, and Gray and I are gonna stay an extra day so we can see her. It’s been ages since we’ve all been home,” he explained. You balked. Was he kidding? You watched him closely, trying to see if he was joking or not. You noticed that he was fidgeting a little bit, one of his nervous habits. Something else was up. 

It clicked for you then - he was probably setting up the surprise, wanting you to think that he wasn’t even going to be in the state. Sneaky.

“Okay, that’s fine,” you responded, secretly looking around the screen to see if you could spot a camera. He would be filming this for sure if there was a video, and you didn’t want to ruin it.

“I was wondering if you could do me a favor tomorrow though. Louis Vuitton is getting a shipment of new stuff in for me and Gray, and we’re supposed to pick specific stuff by Saturday, do you think you could go get it and bring it home so we have more time to decide once we get back?” 

There it was. 

The weird get-you-to-a-certain-place excuse that was customary with any Ethan surprise. You breathed out a sigh - for a second there you really thought that he had forgotten. This was one of his less creative ideas, but you rolled with it anyways. 

“Yeah, I can get it. What time am I supposed to go?”

“Whenever is fine! Thank you baby,” he offered you a soft smile.

Weird. Usually he would be specific on a time. Oh well. He definitely just needed you out of the house so he could set up whatever it was. 

“You’re welcome. Isn’t it like 1am there now? You should be asleep,” you reminded him.

“Yeah, we’ve gotta get Cam pretty early in the morning so you’re probably right. Well, I love you, I’ll check on you tomorrow. Goodnight!”

“I love you too, goodnight baby.”

It was hard to sleep that night. Your mind was racing with a million different things, trying to think of what he would be planning. He was probably on a plane already. You woke up throughout the night, convinced you were hearing him sneaking in. But eventually you fell asleep with no dreams.

And when you woke up the next morning around 9am the house was empty and quiet. You didn’t feel any older, and to be honest it didn’t feel much different from your past few birthdays - you usually spent them alone. You walked around the house cautiously, peeking around corners to see if someone was there to jump out and surprise you. No one showed, so you simply went to the kitchen and made yourself a quick breakfast. 

Once that was done, you went back to Ethan’s bathroom and started getting ready. It had been awhile since you’d done a full face of makeup, and you put on one of your favorite outfits as well just to make you feel nice.

As you were putting your shoes on, you felt your phone buzz. 

Morning baby! what’re you up to? was the text from Ethan that came across your screen. 

morning! I’m headed to louis to get your alls clothes

You felt the butterflies starting to mount as you headed out to the car. Who knew what was gonna be there when you got back. Deciding to make the most of it, you stopped by your favorite coffee shop and got a drink on your way to the store. The workers were nice as always, even helping you to get all the garment bags into your car before waving as you drove off. 

The excitement mounted with each minute that passed on the way home. You were practically bouncing by the time you got to the driveway, opening the gate and pulling in. Nothing looked different - of course, he would have hidden the cars somewhere. 

You gathered all the garment bags, holding them high above you so they didn’t drag the ground, hoping you wouldn’t drop them if someone jumped out. 

Opening the door slowly, you braced yourself.

And nothing. 

Nothing happened. 

You kept walking, placing the bags down over the couch. 

“Hello?” You said, listening to the echo. There was no response. And then it hit you like a ton of bricks. 

No one was here. 

No one was coming.

You’d been forgotten. 

The tears came quickly, hot and angry down your cheeks. It took a moment for you to realize that you were actually embarrassed. You’d made up a whole scenario in your head that your boyfriend was planning some major surprise for you, when in reality he was actually across the country with no idea what day it even was. It stung much more than you thought it would. 

And so, you sat on the floor and cried, leaving tear stains on your outfit and throwing a full on pity party. You felt stupid, and childish, and unloved all at the same time. A tiny sliver of hope remained, but when you got a snapchat from Grayson of them in the car with Cam, it faded too. 

After about an hour you managed to get yourself up off the floor, going through the motions. You hung the boys clothes up in their closets, cleaned up your makeup; it was still your birthday. You were going to try to have a good day if you could. So you went back out to the grocery and bought yourself a cake. A whole ass cake in your favorite flavor, and you had the bakers write “happy birthday to me” on top of it in white icing. 

As you drove back to the house, your sadness started to turn into anger. You didn’t deserve this shit. You deserved to be celebrated on the one fucking day of the year that was about you. And you were happy that Ethan was getting to see his sister - you really were. If he had told you about it and been apologetic that he couldn’t be there for your birthday, you would have understood. But it was so very obvious that he’d completely forgotten, and that was what bothered you the most out of anything. 

When your phone rang with a facetime from him, you knew better than to answer it. You would say something that you really, really regretted. You let it ring through as you pulled in the driveway, carrying your cake inside and sitting it on the counter. Your phone rang again, and you ignored it. 

He seemed to give up, and sent you a text instead.

Hey baby, we ended up needing to get a flight tonight so I should be home around 11 or so your time. didn’t want you to get scared if you heard me. can’t wait to see you, I missed you!

You closed your phone. You didn’t trust yourself to not be an asshole. You knew that as soon as Ethan realized what was going on he was going to feel absolutely terrible. So you didn’t want to be a complete asshole. But... that didn’t mean you couldn’t be a little bit petty. 

So you decided to stay up until he got home. And by stay up, that meant waiting in the kitchen for him with your cake on the counter so he could realize exactly what had happened. Petty. But justified. 

The wait was long, but worth it when you finally heard them coming down the driveway. You started eating the cake, making sure to just get the corners because you wanted the words to stay visible.

The door clicked open and shut, and you heard the rustling of the boys coming in.

“Tell Y/N I said hey if she’s up, I’m going the fuck to sleep,” you heard Grayson explain, not even coming into the kitchen.

Good. You didn’t want him in the middle of all this anyways. 

Ethan almost passed you on his way to his room, but you caught his eye. His entire face lit up when he saw you, and you felt your resolve to be petty crack a little. He was so damn cute, it was hard to stay mad at him. 

“Baby you didn’t need to stay up! I figured you’d gone to sleep early since you didn’t answer earlier,” he grinned, coming over to you. 

“I’m awake.” Your tone stopped him in his tracks - he was on his way to kiss you, no doubt. You were even surprised at how mad you sounded. It wasn’t like you to pick a fight. 

“I can see that. Are you okay?” He was more cautious now, looking around to see if he could figure out what was happening. You gave him a minute before you took another bite of cake to give him a clue.

He looked down at the icing, and you watched him mouth the words as he read it. 

“Did you buy a clearance cake or something? What’s going on? I’m confused.”

“I can wait until you figure it out.” 

You watched the gears turn in his head. When he looked up from the pastry, his eyes were wide. 

“What’s today’s date?” He asked, his voice meek.

“I’ll give you one guess,” you murmured, taking another bite.

“Oh no. Oh no no no no,” he said, hands coming up to his hair. He held his head for a moment, and you noticed that his chest was rising and falling too fast. He stumbled a bit, reaching back to catch himself on the counter. His hand slipped slightly - was he sweating?

You pieced it together immediately. 

Panic attack.

Any anger, any pettiness you had flew out the window. You dropped your fork, running over to him and grabbing his hand. 

“C’mon, come with me Ethan it’s okay,” you said, guiding him as quickly as you could to the room you shared. They always resolved quicker if he was in his most comforting place, so when you got him in the room you immediately guided him to sit on the bed. 

You knelt in front of him, holding his hands in yours. 

“Breathe in while I squeeze, out when I let go, okay? Just like we always do, and it’ll stop. I’m right here,” you reassured him, squeezing his hands. To your relief he was able to take a deep breath in with you, but he exhaled immediately, panic still overriding. 

“You’re. You’re gonna - leave.” He was gasping through the words.

“Ethan I’m right here. I’m right here, I’m not leaving, no matter what. Just breathe baby, just breathe.” 

It took almost 15 minutes to get him fully calmed down, and you only knew it was over when he opened up his arms for you. You climbed onto his lap, no hesitation, wrapping your arms around him. 

It didn’t matter how angry you were - nothing was worse than seeing the man you loved in pain. You couldn’t stand it. 

“I am actually the biggest piece of shit to walk the face of the earth,” he mumbled into your shoulder a few moments later. You shook your head, pressing a kiss to his hair. 

“No you aren’t, I’m -”

“If you apologize, I swear to god,” he cut you off and you fell silent as he sat up and looked at you. “Please, please do not try to make me feel better right now.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” You asked honestly. You felt guilty that your pettiness had caused him to panic so quickly. 

“Yell at me, scream at me, be fucking pissed off that I literally forgot the most important day of the fucking year,” he said, exasperated. 

“I’m not gonna do that.” You couldn’t do that was the correct answer. “Besides, I already had my fun. With the cake.” 

Ethan looked like he was going to explode.

“So I forget that today is your birthday. Not only do I not have a whole party and surprise for you, but I don’t even say happy birthday. And you spend the entire day alone, while I’m just fucking around on the other side of the country.”

“You were with your family, that’s not fucking around.” 

“While I’m just fucking around on the other side of the United States-” he repeated. “And your revenge on me was to buy yourself a cake...”

“And be petty about it,” you shrugged. He looked at you in disbelief. And honestly, you were surprised at yourself too. You’d been so hurt and mad earlier, but all that anger had left you somehow. Something about being with Ethan put you at peace, even in the most unsettling of situations.

“That wasn’t even being petty! What do you even mean!? How are you not screaming at me right now!?” He practically yelled. 

“I mean yeah, I was sad, but I pretty much hurt my own feelings.”

His face was actually red with frustration.

“Please explain what ridiculous way you’ve convinced yourself of that.”

You hesitated.

“It’s gonna make you sad.” 

He didn’t say anything, and you sighed, knowing he was gonna make you tell him. You looked down, toying with the hem of his shirt as you explained.

“Well, I thought it was kinda weird that you were going home so close to my birthday, so I kinda convinced myself that maybe you were surprising me or something. Like pretending to be gone, but actually you were gonna be here. And you seemed off while you were home, so I thought maybe you were just planning stuff, or maybe you were nervous about pulling it off. And I thought you asked me to go to Louis to get the clothes so you had time to set stuff up. But then when I got back I realized you were still in Jersey. So really it was only bad because I thought something was happening.”

“I am a piece of shit,” he repeated after a moment. 

“What was going on in Jersey that had you acting so weird?” You poised, trying to change the subject. He was going to continue beating himself up over forgetting, and there wasn’t much you could do to stop him, but you were genuinely curious as to what had been going on. You knew him well enough that you were sure that it was something - you’d just assumed wrong when guessing it was about you. 

His arms tightened around you slightly, pulling you to his chest while his cheek rested on your shoulder. Sometimes, he found it easier to talk about things when he wasn’t looking right at you. 

“It was Mom and Dad’s anniversary last week. It’s always really hard for her, and Grayson and I wanted to go see her to make sure she was alright, but we couldn’t get out there on the actual day. But we went to his grave on Tuesday, and I realized I hadn’t been back out there since the funeral. It stirred up a lot of emotions for everybody, but it was really nice being home with my family, even just for a little while. We facetimed with Cam while we were there, and she got upset too and wanted to see everybody so we got her a flight to come up for the day.”

You took a minute to process everything, and then you leaned back so that you could look at Ethan.

“Baby why didn’t you tell me? If I’d known all that I would have told you to stay longer.”

“I just... I didn’t want it to be a big deal. It shouldn’t be a big deal.” 

“Yes it should. Your family is the most important thing to you, it always has been and it always will be. That comes before anything,” you reassured him. “If your mom was having a hard time, you did the right thing by going to see her when you could.”

“My dad always handled everything so well. Always had a million things going on at once and never dropped anything. And I can’t even remember two fucking things.” His voice was getting rougher, and you could tell his throat was tight. You put a hand behind his neck, running your fingers through the hairs at the nape of it.

“I just wish I could be more like him. I always fuck everything up.” 

“You don’t Ethan. You’re more like your dad than you’ll ever know, he raised you to be an amazing man. I see parts of him in you everyday.” 

And for some reason those words broke him down, and he began to sob. You hadn’t seen him cry like that in a while, but when you had, no words could comfort him. So you just held him tightly and let him cry his way through it, running your fingers along his back gently and occasionally pressing a kiss to his temple. 

When he had finally cried himself out he just melted into your shoulder and let you hold him for a while. It was a few more minutes before he spoke.

“This must be a wonderful birthday for you. Your asshole boyfriend forgets about it, then comes home and spends the last hour of it in a panic attack and then bawling like a baby over his dead dad. I sure do know how to bring the party huh.” 

You leaned back to meet his eyes, and he had been so monotone through the whole thing that you couldn’t help but laugh. Your giggle caused him to start to crack, and before you knew it you were both cackling so hard you were crying.

“We’re quite the duo,” you teased, taking his face in your hands and wiping his tears away.

“I really am so sorry baby. I feel terrible.” 

“It’s alright Ethan. You had a reason, and to be honest it was kinda fun being petty for a minute. I don’t get to do it often,” you said. He was already forgiven. To your surprise, instead of arguing, he took your wrist in his hand, turning it to look at the time on your watch. 

11:58

“It’s still your birthday. Can I give you your present?”

“You got me a present?” You perked up.

“Of course I did, I’m not that shitty.”

“Gimme,” you smiled, holding out your hands. He smiled at that, putting his hands on your hips and lifting you off his lap. You watched him as he went to his closet, reaching behind one of his shoe boxes to pull out a small blue wrapped box, followed by an envelope. You made a grabby hand at it, making him chuckle as he handed them over.

“Which one should I open first?” 

“You’re the birthday girl, you decide,” he grinned.

You opted for the envelope, pulling it open and looking inside. There were a few pieces of paper, but you chose the one with Ethan’s handwriting on it first. In his messy scrawl you read:

plus a shopping spree for anything you want to take with us :) 

“Take with us? Where are we going?!” You exclaimed.

“Open the rest of it,” he urged. 

You reached in and found two plane tickets to Maui. 

“Holy shit! We’re going to Hawaii!?” 

“We leave in two weeks. I figured it was about time we went there by ourselves. I got us a nice little villa to stay at, and we’re gonna go clothes shopping for whatever you want. Though, I do request you pick out many, many bikinis.”

You smacked his chest before you kissed him.

“This is too much. Way too much.”

“Not possible. Here, open this one. It’s not as exciting, but I think you’ll still like it.” He passed you the box and ripped off the paper. What else could he have possibly gotten you?

When you pulled open the box, you gasped. It was a beautiful ring, with a raw black crystal on it that had a tiny blue stone nestled in it. It was obviously hand crafted, and it was just your style.

“Ethan this is beautiful,” you said, picking it up and admiring it. “What kind of crystal is this?”

“It’s black tourmaline, and the little stone is zircon, which is my birthstone. Black tourmaline is for protection, so it’s my promise to you that I’m always going to keep you safe.” He took the ring from your hand and slid it onto your finger. 

“I love you,” was the only response you could form as you crawled forward and settled yourself back in his lap. You kissed him hard, trying to say what you wanted without the words. No one had ever gotten you a gift so meaningful. He kissed you back, responding to each move you made, reciprocating as you lead, hands wandering. 

He took you by surprise when he stood up, hands moving to your ass as he lifted you and carried you towards the door.

“Where are we going?” In all honesty, you didn’t care. 

“I’m declaring it birthday week, and we’re celebrating every day. So we’re starting day two with cake.”

“I have sad news.”

His feet stopped and he looked at you, quirking an eyebrow.

“It’s not dairy free.”

He gasped a bit in mock hurt, but it turned into a smile that you kissed off his lips a moment later.

“Well then, I’ll just watch you eat cake and think of all the ways I’m going to spoil you until your next birthday to make up for this one.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” 

[heroprose]

the regular;

a/n. well what do u know.... turns out i WILL be writing for jojo on this blog...... @jojosmilktea, that is!! hi jojo i was ur bnha spring event anon! and i’m SOOO sorry this is late RIP!!!

ship. shoto todoroki x reader

summary. bubble tea shop au. it’s true that he knows your order by heart, but he wishes he knew a little more.

//

to be quite honest, you didn’t know this bubble tea shop even existed in this part of the city. 

it certainly didn’t look the part, all pristine with white stone walls and flower boxes hooked onto the closed glass windows. no, in fact it looked a little too bougie for this gray high rise district and you suspect that if it were not for the current downpour, wherein great big rivulets of water are endlessly streaming down the streets, hipsters would populate this cafe’s space in no time.

you cannot blame them, of course. it’s certainly a nice building and totally instagram-worthy. but what attracts you to it is not the vintage stone walls nor the massive poster plastered on the inside of the glass window, with vibrant letters that spell out NEW SEASONAL FLAVORS! but instead, it’s the generous pink awning in front that’s saving you from the insidious downpour. 

you were supposed to do a little grocery shopping before heading home, damn it. technically, though, you could brave the rain for a while and shop for bread and eggs while sopping wet, but it’s a deeply unappealing idea. it doesn’t help that your go-to grocer with the terrific deals is three train stops away either and that your phone is dead, drained from too many rounds of crossy road on your commute long before the rain even began.

restless, you squint through the window of the shop inconspicuously and gape in horror as you realize it is just as cute inside as it is outside. from what you can tell, it’s set up like a little garden party, with metal outdoor chairs and circular tables and the tiles even have flower smiley face stickers on them. oh no. 

it is something of a relief you’ve only discovered this bubble tea shop now because any earlier would have you blowing your bank account on extra boba and grass jelly. and in this economy? not ideal.

still, your eyes waver to the poster again. rose milk tea? peach iced tea? the prices aren’t listed anywhere so you presume they must be absolutely monstrous. completely insane, probably, and jacked up immensely to compensate for the expenses gone in the decor alone and--

“we’re open, you know. you can come in.”

you pull away from the window hastily, letting your back bump into the metal back of chair. biting back a cry of pain, you eye the speaker head-to-toe before letting your shoulders slack. the black apron tied at his waist screams barista. actually, everything about this dude screams barista, from the rolled up sleeves to the vaguely disheveled collar. even the watch on his wrist-- woah. is that a limited edition tag heuer watch? you blanch a little.

he grips the broom with both hands and gestures with the jerk of his chin to the door. “you can come in,” he repeats. his bangs flutter about his forehead thanks to the gusts of wind and it’s a bit mesmerizing to see the red and white flutter like that. 

“oh,” you say, desperate to recompose yourself as you pretend you weren’t wringing out droplets of water from your clothing just minutes before. “it’s okay, thank you. i’m just waiting for the rain to pass.”

the barista opens his mouth but before he can speak, a loud clap of thunder zips through you and goosebumps erupt across the expanse of your skin. with ears ringing, you wince and the tag heuer-wearing fellow only watches. you purse your lips, glancing from him. to the onslaught of rain, to finally the door. 

well. so much for staying outside. wordlessly, he pulls the door open for you and you oblige quietly, mumbling a small word of thanks as you pass him.

unsurprisingly, the shop is wholly vacant, save for him, the boy who follows you in, and another barista behind the counter, who leans against the table behind him with arms crossed. the radio is on but it’s turned down so low that it might as well be off.

it would be painful to loiter in this shop for an hour or so without buying anything, so begrudgingly, you pull out your wallet and pray to whatever higher deity up there that you won’t get hooked on their drinks and subsequently, their freakish prices. you’ve got a budget, for goodness sake. 

when you step to the counter, the barista that met you outside sets his broom aside to meet you on the other side. “what would you like?” he asks automatically, with the tilt of his head. you glance over the menu above his head despite knowing your answer deep inside your heart.

“taro milk tea, please,” you say, bringing your gaze back to him. a trickle of rainwater slides down the curve of his cheek and you have to tear your gaze away. “medium, with boba. and extra sugar too.”

“will that be it?”

“yes,” you reply with your eyes downcast, carefully deciding on whether to use cash or credit. maybe you can use some of your spare coins this time.

his gold name tag says “shoto,” and it gleams even in your peripheral vision as he nods and turns to the other barista with the spiky hair who stands a few ways’ away and glowers a bit. 

“katsuki,” says shoto. “one medium taro milk tea with--”

“yeah, yeah,” says the other barista snappishly. “i heard. i’m literally right here.” he pulls away from the table and exits to the back forcefully and you two watch him in relative silence. a guitar-heavy shawn mendes song plays in the background; played too softly for you to determine which one though.

shoto’s gaze swivels back to you, undisturbed by the attitude his coworker just presented and so you do your best to remain indifferent as well. it is similarly pure irony to have such a gentle cafe hosted by such personalities. 

“name?” he simply asks and you tell him, not bothering to question why that was still necessary if you were the only customer in the entire shop. 

and it is equally strange that after katsuki returns with your drink, about to hand it to you, shoto acts to intercepts with an extended hand to take the cup away.

“what are you doing?” says katsuki incredulously, drawing back.

shoto presents the sticker with the order printed on it in the air. “i need to put this on.”

“seriously? it’s not like you could hand it to the wrong person,” he mutters, but lets shoto tease it out of his hand before promptly returning to the kitchen again, letting the doors swing behind him. you refrain from smiling too wide as shoto carefully presses the sticker onto the cup behind the counter with an unexpectedly concentrated expression on his face.

when he utters your name to catch your attention, shoto slides your drink over to you, not letting go until your fingers accidentally brush over his. “here you go.”

“thank you,” you say brightly, shaking it for good measure. the ice clinks distract you momentarily from the noise of rain hitting concrete. the cream and purple taro swirl together brilliantly.

he nods, turning away to take a cleaning rag into his hands. shoto wipes at the counter meticulously, every once in a while swiping a smudge with his fingertips to evaluate his work. the quiet is only periodically punctured by the clap of thunder and when shawn mendes starts belting out the background adlibs via the radio.

“when do you think the rain will let up?” you muse absentmindedly, fingers drumming the raised counter as you push along your bubble tea and dig around the container for a straw of your favorite color. “not for long, i hope.”

shoto blinks, glancing up. “i heard it’ll last all through the night.”

steely dread pools at the bottom of your stomach. “no!” you gasp, confronting shoto. “really? i don’t have an umbrella or anything.” you didn’t hear anything of the sort, but then again, you haven’t checked the forecast since this morning. maybe you can wave down a cab or something. you let out a brief laugh of disbelief that rapidly devolves into a groan. “man. that stinks.”

he looks at you sympathetically, watching you deftly pierce the plastic seal top of your milk tea with more force than necessary. 

you bring the straw to your mouth, sipping quietly as you think of your next line of action. the richness is disturbingly good and you’re saddened to know that you’ll be returning in the future, rain or no rain. 

taking a seat in a metal chair, you finally give the shop a thorough glance over. with all the bright lights and pale wallpaper plastered with colorful stickers. above you, the ceiling vents buzz quietly. the whole shop is just--

“dazzling,” you murmur after several minutes, submitting to its glamour. “everything’s so pretty here.” the interior designer really went ham here and it shows. you fish your phone out of your slightly damp pocket and wipe at the screen with a sigh. you’d even take a photo if you could.

unbeknownst to you, shoto had left the counter upfront and is wiping down a table nearby as you speak. “thank you,” he says and you jolt, head snapping towards his direction. “we do our best to be presentable and comfortable.”

“full marks on both then,” you say breezily and a ghost of a smile teases at his lips before he walks away to the backroom. 

he’s amused. did he think you were funny? your ears start to warm up a little and you drain your milk tea faster. in any case, it’s best that you brave the storm sooner than later. 

there’s little doubt that the rain won’t be stopping any time soon and it would really be the icing on the cake if you not only got stuck in a thunderstorm but fell ill as well. you’ve realized, from all your years of life, that people don’t appreciate their functional nostrils until they get stuffed. 

and you don’t know how much time passes in that cafe with the absence of clocks and your phone, but after catching yourself glancing over at shoto for the fifth time, wondering if you can make him smile like that again, you finally think that enough is enough. your chewing speeds up. 

then you stand up, careful to not let the metal feet scrape the tiles. should you just book it, through the rain? or should you stand under the awning a little longer, hoping the rare cab will notice your helpless self and save you? as you mull these thoughts over, you toss the cup into the bin and wipe your hands with a spare napkin, getting rid of the condensation.

“wait.” 

shoto’s calm voice makes you whirl around yet again.

as he walks closer, you notice that he’s gripping something in his hand and you can only bring yourself to stare as he presents it to you.

“take it,” he says. “this is my umbrella.”

your heart stutters for a second. “huh? no, i couldn’t,” you say hastily, dismissing him with a wave. “that’s really kind of you though, thank you.”

“but you said you didn’t have one.”

you give him a quizzical look. “but if i take yours, then you don’t have one.”

“katsuki-- um, the other person who works here-- lives near me. we commute together sometimes. so please,” he says, gesturing the closed umbrella.  you wrap your fingers around the clear plastic gingerly to his coaxing. “take it.” 

tears nearly prick your eyes as you lean over to pat him on the arm graciously. he’s more alarmed than anything else as you do, silently wide-eyed, and is it only then that you notice his eyes are different colors. “thanks, shoto. i’ll be back tomorrow to return it then. i promise!”

he gives you a quick nod. “i don’t work tomorrow. i’ll be here all weekend though.” 

“alright, shoto. i’ll see you on the weekend.”

“stay safe.”

you’re already turning away and pushing open the door before you see the flicker of a smile pass over his visage again.

/

“you gave away your umbrella?” says katsuki after the cafe closes later that evening. his eyes narrow down at his fellow coworker sharply. “to a damn customer?”

“it’ll get returned,” assures shoto. his upper arm is warm where you had touched him, and his hand hovers over it for a second before he shrugs on his jacket.

“that’s not the point,” his coworker seethes, angrily hanging up his apron. “my car is two blocks over and i was relying on you to do your part in bringing the umbrella. idiot!”

ah.

/

you come back that sunny weekend, with shoto’s trusty transparent umbrella in hand... as well as the weekend after. and the weekend after that. sans the excuse of the umbrella, of course.

when it is katsuki that greets you at the counter, he does little to hide his disapproval of your order; grunting when you greet him with a cheerful “hi katsuki!” and grimacing each time when you smile and add, “with extra sugar!” to your order.

“you’re aware of how much sugar is already in this stuff, right?” he tells you. 

“i’m here for a good time, not a long time,” you reply. “and are you really supposed to be asking me that? as someone who works here?”

katsuki scoffs and wordlessly punches your order in anyway. his brew, however, is immaculate without fail so you don’t question his tactics.

but when it is shoto... he greets you warmly, stretching the conversation by asking about how you are and about your day.

“the regular?” he eventually asks after several weeks of you making the same order as the last. 

you smile. “the regular.”

sometimes, you loiter near the counter when it’s not busy. you learn, with some semblance of glee, that shoto is a student like yourself and he only works part-time-- the rainy afternoon you met him on had been a shift he was covering for someone else. other times all you can do is take your drink and wave him goodbye.

even on the extremely busy days where you cannot even find a vacant seat, there are brief seconds where you think of leaning against the wall and enjoying the atmosphere. it is a startling realization, how desperate you want to linger in his presence. 

your affection is making you ill. ugh, and being bloated is not a good look on you either.

drinking taro milk tea at competitor bubble tea shops don’t even sate you. it’s always too watery, too thin; the flavors rounding off as bitter, over brewed tea. but you drink them to wean yourself off. you should probably stop drinking them altogether though.

some time passes before you can find it in yourself to return. the storefront is as pretty as it always is whenever you pass it by on your commute.

“hey, how are you? have you been alright?” asks shoto right off the bat, dropping his washrag haphazardly beside the sink when you find yourself at the counter again after the weeks of hearty self-restraint.

his concern is so vivid it unnerves you. it’s a funny and ill-placed nervous look on his face, eyebrows pulled tense. “i’m fine,” you say, “how have you been?”

“i’m well,” shoto says. “and... that’s good. it’s been a while. i thought you might have started getting your milk tea fix from somewhere else.” he pauses. “have you?”

his sincerity makes you throw your head back and laugh, but your stomach gurgles at the recollection of drinking so many subpar taro milk teas. “never,” you tell him finally. “i like this place too much. and the people here too.”

“i see.” shoto’s smile is bright this time, eyes so soft even as he speaks. “the regular then?”

you let out an exaggerated sigh, your own gaze crinkling up. “you know me so well, shoto.”

/

“quit freakin’ flirting at the counter,” snaps katsuki, mopping the floor vigorously. “do that shit when you’re not at work, icy-hot. it’s disgusting that i have to stand here and listen to you two.”

shoto frowns. “it’s not flirting. we have to be kind to customers.” he calls from the kitchen.

“kindness is you giving extra napkins, not asking if they’ve been going to other bubble tea shops. as if.”

“we’re... just friends then.”

“just friends, my ass. what, you think that extra sugar ass sweet tooth loser came in every week alone just to get tea? you know what...” katsuki’s peeved grumbles trail off until they’re no longer comprehensible.

shoto just ponders on this as he drains the sink.

/

“here,” says katsuki one saturday afternoon. “take it. and go.” he pushes the purple drink into your hand and wipes his own hand on his apron. “extra sugar. don’t blame me when your teeth fall out.”

“damn,” you say, although you are hardly taken aback by his crudeness anymore. “but i will. i’ve got a lot to do today, so i can’t stay and chat. bye guys!”

“take care,” says shoto just as katsuki says, “don’t care, didn’t ask.”

(when you wave goodbye, however, you are pleased to see that they both reciprocate kindly.)

by the time you eventually take a sip, you’re already on your way to the rail to get to your favorite grocery store. today, it’s buy one get one free bags of potatoes so you know you’ll be stocking up this time.

mindlessly, you pierce the top with your straw, careful to aim for the center. you give it a stir before taking a sip, the familiar creaminess filling your mouth. 

although it’s... different, somehow. 

sweeter, you think. did katsuki actually overload it with sugar this time? seemed like a weird prank to pull. perhaps he was teaching you a lesson but considering that he hasn’t been fired yet indicates that this was an infrequent occurrence. hopefully. 

chewing the boba thoughtfully, you pull the cup away in order to squint at the dark text printed on the sticker. it’s the same as you always say it: a medium, iced, taro milk tea, with boba and 25% extra--

the word “sugar” is scrawled over with black ink, although not deliberately it seems. it’s just covered up with a slew of numbers and letters written unbelievably neat in spite of being on a cylindrical cup and you nearly hack up a black clump of sugary boba onto the concrete sidewalk. 

but nevertheless, you force it down to look at the order again, more closely this time.

they’re numbers, and your heart stutters in your chest at the realization there’s just enough to be a phone number; followed by a name that you only ever saw emblazoned on a gold name tag.

you want to commit the numbers to memory, but it’s undeniably hard to concentrate. not when shoto’s gentle smile is on the forefront of your brain and  when big, fat droplets of water are hitting your forehead with incredible force. 

you glance up at the swirling, ashen clouds above you, bloated and expecting. an uncomfortable feeling crawls up your spine at the realization that you’ve forgotten your umbrella at home today too. 

oh god. not again.

/

“i can’t believe you actually wrote your number on my cup today... very smooth, shoto.”

there’s a beat before shoto replies, his voice tinny and distant over the phone. “actually, i did that the first day you came in-- when it was raining. i figured you didn’t notice or you were rejecting me.”

“oh. so, wait-- you did it twice then? that day and today?”

“no,” says shoto. “just that day.”

“then who--” you stop yourself.

outside your window, a clap of thunder shakes the sky. and the epiphany that follows renders you both silent.

[charlieknighte]

un jour tu t’en voudras - part 1

Ethan Hitchcock/Maelgwyn

Modern AU - University AU - Fake/Pretend Relationship - Pining - Hurt/Comfort but like significantly more hurt than comfort - french people being terrible

13,060 words

content warnings: terminal illness, drunkenness and smoking, unhealthy family dynamics

For three hundred dollars, Ethan Hitchcock will attend your family's holiday event posing as your shitty art school boyfriend and do everything in his power to wreck the night. Maelgwyn's getting tired of Thanksgiving.

(Featuring art from my dear friend Matt Prairiecryptid!)

For once in his life, Maelgwyn is excited to see Thanksgiving go to shit. 

Nausea always creeps up on him as he moves towards a family gathering, but he’s distracting himself with schadenfreudian thoughts of how much of the night’s chaos and strife is going to be his responsibility this time. They’re going to hate the boy he’s bringing on his arm so goddamn much. Ethan has taken it upon himself to sound like even more of an egregious Quebecois douchebag than usual, like he's cramming a handful of extra vowels into every single word. It would bother Maelgwyn too if it wasn’t a result of an evening back home spent excitedly brainstorming ways to make him insufferable. It’s all Ethan can do to make himself as disheveled and douchey as possible. Maelgwyn’s paying a pretty penny for him to antagonize his parents, after all.

The Hitchcocks rarely advertise their services through anything but word of mouth anymore. Exam cheatsheets, less than legal party supplies, forged doctors’ notes, winning Roll Up The Rim cups—everyone around campus knows there’s not much they can’t get for you if you’re paying. Their acting services don’t come all that cheap, either, but once in a blue moon someone needs to make an ex jealous or fake a family emergency. Maelgwyn had come to them with his dilemma half expecting to be turned down, but they’d just nodded knowingly and named their prices as if they’d performed this particular service a dozen times before. 

So now Ethan’s here in Louisiana with him, blowing cotton candy-flavored clouds into the evening sky as they walk through pretty polished suburbs on their way to Maelgwyn’s grandfather’s house. He didn’t come cheap, even if they gave him a discount for a year of friendship and for the fact that they know how much shit his parents piled on him. Still, Maelgwyn is relieved he’s here. The thought of affronting his family again is much less dread-inducing with the knowledge that he’ll have backup. Ethan is a good friend to have—he’d endeared himself to Maelgwyn mostly by sleeping through the film classes they’d had together and later begging to study with him, then slyly turning their study sessions into outings with his friends. It was one of the reasons Maelgwyn had finally broken out of the lonely shell he’d hidden in through his first year at university.

He can work with him, he knows that much. He just wishes they’d had more time to prepare a plan for the night. Maelgwyn clears his throat. “So, we’re starting off on too good of a footing already. My parents are way too happy to hear I’m bringing home a boy.”

Ethan tucks away his vape and gives him a sideways look. “Aren’t you bi?”

“Yeah, well… I rode out making them think I was straight as long as I could. It pissed my dads off thinking I wouldn’t even consider experimenting.” Maelgwyn pulls a face. “Samot wanted to throw me a coming out party.”

Ethan snorts. “Too much acceptance is really an unusual complaint to have.”

“I know, I know.” Maelgwyn lets the matter slide. It’s a petty thing to bring up, and really the least of his worries when it comes to his parents. “Anyway, you’re also going to get brownie points with Samot right off the bat for being, y’know… good-looking.”

Ethan raises his eyebrows at him and gestures at himself. His Habs jersey and ripped jeans are wildly inappropriate for a dinner party, and he’d purposefully smudged his eyeliner at Maelgwyn’s request. His earrings are even mismatched. “Am I, though?” he says, skeptical.

“I mean your face. You’re not ugly.”

“Oh.” Ethan puts a fist under his chin and pouts at him. “Well, that’s all I get? I’m not ugly?”

Maelgwyn sighs good-humoredly. “Yeah, yeah, you’re pretty.”

Ethan splits into a grin, having gotten what he wanted out of him, and puts a spring into his step. Maelgwyn shoves his shoulder fondly. “Pretty fuckin’ annoying.”

“ Oh! ” Ethan stumbles and clutches his chest. “Is that any way to speak to your beloved? You wound me, mon cher .”

Maelgwyn laughs despite the strange feeling creeping into his chest. He really wishes they’d had a chance to rehearse. Hearing Ethan refer to him so affectionately is strange. Something occurs to him. “Oh, shit. Um, one more thing. My parents are pretty PDA, so we’ll probably have to… 

“Match their expectations so they don’t assume your relationship is crashing and burning?”

“Good way to put it.” Ethan really has done this before. Maelgwyn’s not sure how to feel about that.

Ethan’s hand hovers by his waist. “Can I, then?” 

“Sure.” Maelgwyn lets him put his arm around him and tries to adjust to being held as he walks. It’s not that foreign of a feeling. He’s had to endure the Hitchcocks’ drunken snuggling enough to not be fazed by them being touchy-feely when sober. Still, people don’t usually touch him here. He feels like he’s being flirted with by a spineless frat boy at a party. 

As they near the house, Maelgwyn finds himself nervously hoping he knows enough about Ethan for their false relationship to appear plausible. He knows that Ethan’s the cheery, personable one in relation to his brother, and that his general knowledge of the world is extremely hit or miss. He knows he’s kind enough to once have comforted Maelgwyn as he heaved his guts out in the bathroom of a frat party, and that he lacks enough common sense to have been found passed out in the bushes himself twenty minutes later. Maelgwyn doesn’t know shit about his life before university, but he figures Ethan will fill in the gaps if he needs to. He’s resourceful like that. Spirits buoyed again, he turns them onto the driveway leading up to the house.

Samol’s mansion is deceptively quaint, vines creeping over its two-story columns and cheerful flowerboxes and porch swings decorating the wrap-around deck. You would imagine it had been purchased for a pittance and passed down through generations. In reality, the house had been built as a wedding gift a few years before Maelgwyn was born, and the charming plant life and Victorian-era aesthetic was a result of careful curation. Maelgwyn still doesn’t know if he’s relieved or resentful over his parents giving it up. 

American Thanksgiving has always been Samol's domain, which Maelgwyn is constantly grateful for. He couldn't survive his parents' dinner party posturing again after having to endure it once in October. He doesn’t think Ethan could survive a polite evening in their mansion without snapping either, based on the three-room shithole apartment the Hitchcocks share. It might have inspired him to ask for more money too, which Maelgwyn couldn’t afford without going through the mortification of asking his parents. It’s much better to be here, where their wealth is plausibly deniable. Maelgwyn knocks on the door and braces himself.

There’s a distant hubbub deep within the house as his family politely argues over who’s going to answer. Ethan pops some gum and starts chewing obnoxiously, getting on Maelgwyn’s already frayed nerves—but he supposes that’s the point. Finally, a flash of blond hair approaches through the frosted glass on the door. Samot swings it open, flashing his campaign-trail grin. Maelgwyn’s excitement for his parents to balk at his disheveled, offensively casual boyfriend starts to wane a little as he tries to estimate how much Mayor Samot’s qipao of black silk and golden gilding must’ve cost the taxpayers of Toronto. His hair is in an elegant updo that he must’ve paid an equally opulent amount for.

“Maelgwyn!” Samot says, delighted as if he had no idea that his own son would be attending the family dinner he’s pressured into year after year. He steps out and wraps him up in a perfumey hug, earrings tinkling. Maelgwyn pats his back to participate without having to hug him back. “Oh, it’s so good to see you,” Samot effuses, stepping back. “Come in, come in. Everyone’s been asking after you, sweetheart.” 

Maelgwyn lets himself be shuffled into Samol’s nicely decorated if overly floral foyer. It’s pointless to fight Samot when he’s turned into an overwhelming cloud of energy and charm in his determination to do something. Ethan steps in after them, and Samot looks to him like an apex predator zeroing in on movement. His smile gets a little wider, showing more of his painfully white teeth. “You must be Ethan.”

“Yeah. Hi.” Ethan takes one hand out of his pocket and shakes his hand. Samot’s sharp smile dulls a little as he takes in his outfit. Still, the fact that it stays on his face instead of dropping away entirely means Maelgwyn was right to say Ethan would pass his standards for appearance. He feels a twinge of annoyance. 

An unfavorable twinge passes across Ethan’s face too as Samot’s deceptively slender fingers crush his hand. “Samot,” he says, smile back up to its maximum brightness. “Charmed, I’m sure.” Maelgwyn wishes his parents didn’t feel the need to establish authority over every single person they meet, but then again he wishes a lot of things about his parents. Every interaction with them is a fucked-up give and take exchange mired in the complicated politics of their family.

There are heavy steps behind him, and his heart sinks. He turns unwillingly. Samothes is making his way down the hall with a drink in one hand, as tall and stern and regal and terrifying as he was when Maelgwyn last saw him. That was some time ago. The golden embroidery down the chest of his sherwani matches the pattern on Samot’s qipao, and Maelgwyn has to resist rolling his eyes. He steps out to meet him, wanting to get it over with. “Hi, dad,” he says, and doesn’t deign to add anything else.

“Glad you could come,” Samothes says, hesitating for a nearly imperceptible moment before he pats Maelgwyn’s shoulder heavily. His gaze goes past him and visibly grows darker. He leans in and asks under his breath, “What is this?” As if Maelgwyn’s brought home a stray dog he doesn’t approve of.

“This is my boyfriend.” Maelgwyn turns so he doesn’t have to interact with him further and marches over to take Ethan’s arm firmly and interrupt whatever invasive questions Samot was trying to wheedle him into answering. Samot smiles innocently. Samothes comes to put an arm around his husband’s waist, frowning openly at Ethan. Maelgwyn can watch him doing Ethan’s job for him and making a dozen unfavorable assumptions about him already.

Ethan raises his chin at him in greeting and snaps his gum. “What’s good?” he asks. He’s discreetly wringing out his hand from Samot’s handshake.

“This is Ethan, dearest,” Samot says, leaning into his husband and drawing himself up to his full height to rest his head on his shoulder. His eyes are getting narrower and narrower as Ethan’s dreadfully inappropriate outfit and lack of manners already start to outweigh his pretty face.

“Ethan,” Samothes says, and doesn’t make any attempt to welcome him. Ethan puts out his hand, realizes there isn’t a handshake waiting, fumbles and puts it down. Maelgwyn can see him start to take on a tinge of genuine nervousness. He feels like he should’ve warned Ethan in some way, but there’s really not much more he could’ve done after telling him my parents are politicians. Samothes, who relishes in his position as senator of Ontario largely because of his lack of contact with the public, is really the worst one to have to impress.

Then again, Ethan isn’t really here to impress. “Um, Samothes, I guess?” he says like he’s only half-interested, getting even more insufferable about his gum-chewing.

“Mm,” Samothes grunts, still glaring at him. Maelgwyn imagines how terrifying his parents must seem from Ethan’s point of view, tall and beautiful and hostile in that courtly, dismissive manner of theirs. Making them hate him is going to be easier than he thought. 

“Let’s not keep everyone waiting, yes?” Samot says, nudging his husband and sweeping them back off to the foyer. He throws Maelgwyn a look that says they’re going to talk about Ethan’s outfit later. Maelgwyn can’t wait. 

He kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his coat, throwing it over the rungs of the staircase to the second floor for lack of available racks. “Well, that was hostile,” Ethan remarks, following Maelgwyn’s lead with noticeably less care. “They’re very—”

"Don't joke about how hot my parents are,” Maelgwyn snaps.

Ethan raises his eyebrows at him. "I didn't say anything."

"I know. I’m just saying. I didn’t want to tell you in advance and hear a million dumb jokes from you and Edmund."

"They made a good-looking kid. I didn't really need a warning."

"You can’t deflect from calling my parents hot by flirting with me. That just makes it worse . " Maelgwyn jabs a finger at him accusingly, and Ethan raises his hands.

"I didn't say anything ,” he insists.

Maelgwyn sighs and leads him through the dim foyer and into the bright, bustling living room. The adults are dressed as if they’re attending a formal gala. Adults—Malegwyn hates that he still calls them that unconsciously. They throw a few judgemental glances at Ethan out of their cloud of cocktail dresses and tailored suits. Ethan’s jersey had set him back a few hundred bucks, but no one here would find that an exorbitant sum. “Well,” says Ethan, insolently refusing to be intimidated, “should we make the rounds?”

“Yeah,” Maelgwyn says, though he’s reluctant. He can see his grandfather in his usual rocking chair, swimming in a stark white dress shirt that used to fit him perfectly. He’s laughing at something his sister is saying. Maelgwyn makes a beeline for him, pulling Ethan along by the arm.

Samol catches sight of him and eases himself up, smile so wide and genuine it crinkles the corners of his eyes. He holds out his arms for a hug, and Maelgwyn leans into him much more gladly than Samot. “Hey, grandpa.” He puts his arms around him and feels a moment of protectiveness at just how frail he is.

“It’s been far too long. I hope they’re treating you well up north.” Samol steps back and grins over his shoulder. “And this must be the famous Ethan.” 

“Yeah, hi,” says Ethan, putting out a hand. Samol ignores it and pulls him into a hug, too. Surprise quickly flashes across Ethan’s face, and then he hugs him back politely.

“Good to meet you. I have to say,” Samol says, pulling away, “we haven’t heard all that much about you, son. I’m looking forward to getting to know just who you are.” He smiles, easy and kind. Still, there’s an edge to the statement that Maelgwyn doesn’t quite understand.

“Um, you too,” Ethan says. He can’t bring himself to be rude to Samol, as most people can’t, but he looks slightly discomforted by the idea that people have been wondering about him. Maelgwyn doesn’t blame him when it’s these people.

Samol holds out a hand to the rest of his family. “This is my sister Severea. Her partner Galenica. My… brother of sorts, Tristero.” Severea and Galenica glitter as always, and Tristero’s in his signature jet black suit. They give Ethan smiles in varying shades of politeness as he shakes their hands in turn. 

"Pleasure," he says, greatly enjoying his aggressive Quebecois shtick. Tristero narrows his eyes. His handshake looks painful. 

"Likewise," he says, with his perfect Parisian lilt. Maelgwyn can see the exact moment Ethan stops enjoying himself. Tristero snatches away his hand like Ethan has the plague and turns to speak to Severea in mainland French, abruptly cutting him out of the social circle.

Ethan stands there for a moment, taking furious breaths, and then he turns around to round on Maelgwyn. "You didn't tell me you were French."

"All sorts,” says Maelgwyn. “I said we were all sorts."

Ethan puts his hands over his face and mutters a long string of curse words that contains tabarnak no less than four times. Some of Maelgwyn’s family members look at him strangely, but none of them really grasp what he’s saying. “We’re in Louisiana,” Maelgwyn reminds him. “What did you expect?”

Ethan puts his hands down, but he’s still sulking. “Your family has a hell of a grip,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, it’s from all the political grandstanding.” Maelgwyn puts an arm around his shoulders and turns him away from the adults’ corner of the room and its dozens of empty martini glasses. “You wanna meet my cousins?”

Ethan nods miserably and lets himself be led over to where the Tristé siblings are sprawling across the couches texting. Adelaide is draped across the length of one couch, head propped on her arm, and Angelo is aggressively manspreading at the other end to try to win back some space. They aren’t dressed extravagantly, but they still drip in brand names and good taste and organic locally-sourced handpicked vegan textiles. 

Angelo rolls off the couch and hops up to give Maelgwyn that shining grin that he shares with his father and hates so much. “Bro,” he says, pulling him into a hug and slapping his back, “where’ve you been? Tristero’s made me go on a humblebrag parade around the room, like, five times. It’s your turn, Oscars boy.”

“Oh, god, I hope not.” Angelo’s been out of the house much longer than Maelgwyn has, but Maelgwyn knows he resents his father treating him like a child at these gatherings as much as he does. He punches Angelo’s shoulder amicably. “Nice to see you.”

“This your boyfriend?” 

“Yeah—yeah. Uh, Ethan.”

Ethan jolts to attention and steps in to slap Angelo’s hand. “Hey,” he says, a shade more friendly than he was with most of the family. He seems relieved not to have to shake another hand. Trusting Angelo to be polite unsupervised, Maelgwyn turns his attention to the other Tristé sibling.

“Hey, Adie,” he says, leaning down to give her a one-armed hug. “You guys look great.”

Adelaide squeezes his shoulders. “And your boyfriend looks terrible. You’re trying to piss off Samot, aren’t you?” Maelgwyn gives her a pleading look, and she raises her hands. “My lips are sealed. Enjoy whichever game you’re playing.” 

Maelgwyn breathes a sigh of relief and drops onto the couch across from her. He appreciates that the Tristés consider him to be enough of an ally in the political landscape of their family that they’ll call him out on his shit instead of pretending to fall for it. He and Ethan chat with them during the long lull before Samol announces dinner is served. Maelgwyn mostly sticks to small talk and half-listens to Ethan enthusing about his fencing team with Angelo. It’s completely unsurprising that they get along well. He just wishes he hadn't given Ethan free license to exaggerate his accent. It's already getting grating. 

It’s not even halfway into the night, and Maelgwyn’s weary and itchy and uncomfortably warm. He wishes desperately he could be home, not for the first time and not for the last. At some point Ethan leans over and asks if he can put an arm around his waist again. It helps to have some time to parse the feeling of Ethan’s arm around him in a place he usually hesitates to let people touch. It’s not so bad once he gets used to it.

Finally, Samol comes back from checking on his food and announces that dinner is served. The slow shuffle to the dining room starts, and Maelgwyn endures nearly ten more minutes of laughter and milling about and seats being scraped back and forth. Ethan’s arm around him starts being less of a touch he’s tolerating and more of a grounding sensation. Finally, the seating arrangement is established, with Maelgwyn sitting as far from Samothes as he possibly can and ending up by Samol, who’s taken up the other head of the table. His grandfather smiles at him for a moment before they say grace, eyes merry and twinkling between wrinkled lids. Maelgwyn can’t help but smile back. 

Samothes settles himself in his seat with gravitas, looking gravely out over candlesticks and seasonal decorations and heaping plates of Louisiana home cooking. "Dear lord," he begins, projecting his booming voice. There’s a flutter as hands are clasped and eyes are closed. "Thank you for this food. Bless the hands that prepared it. Bless it to our use and us to your service—"

Ethan suddenly shoves back his chair with a loud noise, makes sure people are looking as he spits his gum into his hand, and gets up to throw it out in the kitchen. The table sits in stony silence until he returns. Maelgwyn desperately holds in laughter. When Ethan returns, Samothes says in a low, dangerous voice, "Would you like to finish our grace, Ethan?"

He freezes. "Me?"

"The lord seems to have moved your spirit." 

There's a nervous chuckle around the table. Ethan's squirms, waiting to see if it's a joke that will blow over. It isn't. He opens his mouth and hesitates. As if someone else is saying it for him, he mumbles distantly, "And help us to give you glory each day through Jesus Christ our lord."

An amen goes around the table, and dinner properly begins. Samothes looks grimly pleased. Ethan rips apart a dinner roll violently. Maelgwyn briefly worries that Samothes has genuinely upset him, but Ethan's anger seems to evaporate a moment too quickly. Or maybe he’s imagined it. It’s never easy to tell what Ethan’s thinking. Too many of his actions are the result of one facade or another.

Either way, Ethan eventually pulls himself up from his childish slouch to serve himself like everyone else. He goes for his dinner fork, hesitates and purposefully picks up his dessert fork instead. Samot goes to say something, seems to think better of it and just purses his lips. Maelgwyn has always noted that Ethan has strangely impeccable table manners when he wants to, and he’s thrilled that he’s deciding to use his knowledge of etiquette for evil. He picks up his own dinner fork, because to do otherwise would be a little too suspicious, and digs into his food enthusiastically. Samol’s jambalaya has often been the only thing getting him through this fucking holiday.

"So, Ethan," Samol begins, smiling warmly, "where do you spend your Thanksgivings when my grandson isn't dragging you out to my neck of the woods?"

Ethan gives him a small, polite smile. Samol is too hospitable for anyone to stay standoffish when speaking to him. "At friends', with my brother." To tell the truth, Maelgwyn is tremendously envious of the friendsgiving he’s constantly missing out on. For Thanksgiving to be a pleasant night and not a drawn-out affair of family drama and faux-politeness would be a dream.

"Not with family?" Samot asks from across the table, masking judgement with concerned curiosity.

Ethan snorts. “Wouldn't know where to find them for it, and wouldn’t care to see them." They have the opposite problem, really. Maelgwyn has too much family, and Ethan has next to none. Ethan has never seemed to give much of a shit about it, which Maelgwyn envies tremendously. He wishes with all his heart and soul that what his family was doing didn’t bother or affect him.

Samot takes a slow sip of wine. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.” His eyes are intense over his glass as he watches Ethan rub at his eye, purposefully smearing his eyeliner a little further.

Ethan shrugs and shovels more shrimp in his mouth. Samothes gives him a narrow-eyed, skeptical look Maelgwyn’s learned to fear, but Ethan seems completely unfazed by it. “This is great,” he says as an aside to Samol, mouth is full of shrimp. Samol smiles brightly, and Samothes moves on, having recognized that Ethan is outplaying him by winning his father’s favor. The strain between them tightens a few fractions more. 

“ Puis-je avoir du sel? ” Tristero says, gesturing to the salt shaker at Ethan’s elbow. 

“ Ouais, ” says Ethan, leaning unnecessarily hard into the a to make it absurdly clear that he isn’t saying a proper oui. He reaches out and drops it into Tristero’s hand. Tristero’s eyes widen as if horribly offended, and he straightens his back self-righteously. Maelgwyn braces himself for one of his insufferable speeches on table etiquette.

“ Il ne faut pas passer le sel de la main à la main, ” says Tristero, growing steadily more hostile with each word. “It should be set down on the table in front of your neighbor so they can pick it up for themselves. I just thought I should let you know, seeing as they don’t seem to teach etiquette up in your country.”

“Oh,” Ethan says, reaching the point of hostility much faster. “I see. Well, let me put this in a way you’ll understand, since there seem to be so many cultural stumbling blocks between us. Je m'en fous.” 

The table quiets slightly, everyone finally able to understand Ethan’s profanity (except for Samothes, who keeps eating his rice in blissful ignorance). Maelgwyn and the Tristés try to suppress snickers and smiles. Samot goes to snap at Ethan, finds himself in the position of not wanting to discipline a stranger, and instead says in exasperation, “Maelgwyn!”

Maelgwyn tries to stop smiling and look appropriately serious, but is only halfway successful. “Ethan,” he says, touching his arm.

“He started it,” Ethan says sulkily.

“I know, babe.” Maelgwyn finds himself rubbing Ethan’s shoulder and feels foolish both for acting like his father and for using a term of endearment for the first time. He should’ve rehearsed it earlier, as Ethan had. He drops his arm and goes back to his food, hoping he isn’t red in the face. Samot looks disappointed in him for taking Ethan’s side, but he doesn’t instigate the matter further.

“Well, it was always said that passing salt de la main a la main would cause a quarrel,” says Samol good-humoredly. There’s some reluctant chuckling around the table. The matter having been smoothed out enough to ignore, they continue picking at their plates. Still, there’s a considerable strain underpinning the evening. Ethan and Tristero keep trading blows, though neither escalate as far as the spat over the saltshaker. A steady, dull pain grows in Maelgwyn’s chest, and he starts desperately avoiding speaking with his parents. He almost thinks he’s home free when Samothes abruptly clears his throat and asks, "How are your films going, Maelgwyn?"

Maelgwyn swallows. "We don't really put out anything till third year, dad." 

It’s not technically true, but he doesn't feel like explaining the intricacies of his projects to his father and watching his eyes glaze over. He waits for a followup question and gets none. Samot touches Samothes's arm, making it clear to Maelgwyn that he told him to ask, and then he speaks up instead. "What about you, Ethan? What do you study?"

“Performing arts,” Ethan says, sounding appropriately contemptuous and uninterested in regular human interaction for someone of his major. Maelgwyn can see Samothes’s face completely drain of hope that he had brought someone normal home. Samot progresses to rubbing his arm comfortingly. It’s awfully early in the evening for him to be doing that, which is a good sign.

“I see,” Samot says, “and do you know what you plan to do with your degree?”

“Perform art,” Ethan says flatly. There’s a chuckle around the table, mostly from the Tristé siblings and Samol. Ethan splits into a shitty grin. “I’m joking. You can’t do shit with an arts degree. It’s join the army or marry rich.” 

The table finds this less entertaining. Samot’s hand goes still on his husband’s arm, and Maelgwyn can see him digging in his nails. Ethan sips his drink peacefully like he was just making pleasant conversation and as if Samothes isn’t staring daggers at him less than a day into knowing him. Maelgwyn finds himself wishing he hadn’t been thrown under the bus by association, but he still has to respect the balls Ethan has to have to act so unbothered by his father’s ire.

Samot lets out a fake, tentative laugh, pretending this is a joke to give him an opportunity to backpedal. Maelgwyn realizes he might’ve had too much wine. “But you… do have goals other than that.”

“Well, marry rich. I already said that.”

“That’s not…” Samot sighs. “Maelgwyn’s going to make films. You haven’t considered acting in them?”

“Sure.” Ethan drops his cutlery and pushes back his chair with a harsh scraping noise. “I mean, in case you haven’t noticed, you seem to be doing well enough for yourselves to look down your noses at me. I’m sure you’ll bribe someone to give your son a few dozen mil, right?” Samot’s mouth drops open in indignation. Ethan sits back, gesturing around at the dining room in all its faux-antique charm. He’s smiling one of his most horrible smiles. “Hell, I’m sure some portion of all this is willed to Maelgwyn, and your tête de la famille will keel over soon enough, won’t he?”

If Ethan’s previous outburst had quieted the table, this one completely kills all activity around it, forks clattering still and jaws pausing mid-chew. The silence is murderous. Adelaide chokes on something politely and brings a hand to her mouth. Samot sits back with his wine, staring at Ethan with open, intense malice for the first time in the night.

Samothes holds his knife like he wants to slice Ethan open with it. “What did you say?” he says, voice low and dangerous. It’s redundant. Everyone knows what he said. Ethan blinks at him.

“I said you’re doing well enough for—”

“No, you know what I mean. How dare you?”

Ethan slides back down, looking less confused than pissed off now. Maelgwyn tries to say something, but all that comes out is a squeak. It’s still enough to get Samothes’s attention, and he fixes him with his awful stare instead of Ethan. “How do you manage to be with someone like this? How could you trust him enough to tell him?”

Maelgwyn wants to disappear. He can’t even slink down in his seat, he’s so frozen with fear. The table hovers in its silence, no one daring to breathe. Samothes’s directed malice fades to an aimless fury. “You didn’t tell him,” he says quietly. It’s more of an accusation than a question. Maelgwyn shakes his head wordlessly. He feels like he was just plunged under six feet of water. Samothes sighs and looks to Samot. “Tell your son—”

“ My son?” Samot snaps, sitting forward again and sloshing wine onto the tablecloth in his indignance. Maelgwyn stares down at his plate and pushes around some rice, chewing mechanically without tasting his food.

“Aw, don’t kick up such a fuss,” Samol tries to say, but he’s spoken over immediately.

“I’m sorry, what was I not told?” Ethan says, something hostile about his tone even though Maelgwyn silently begs him to stay soft. He might’ve been pushed too far. 

The table becomes abruptly quiet again. Samot and Samothes sit looking at each other, not knowing how to break the news. They’ve never known how to talk about it. It’s like the mere mention of it has plunged them back into grief as fresh as the day the news was first broken to them.

“It’s stage four,” Samol says softly. Ethan blinks at him, opens his mouth to ask a dumb question, and then understands and slowly melts into horror.

Samothes pushes his chair back with a horrible screech and gives Maelgwyn a look before leaving for the kitchen. The blame is shifted to him as always. Maelgwyn didn't do enough, didn’t behave properly enough, wasn't enough. He should’ve better informed Ethan about his family’s history, and yet he should never have brought it up—or brought him home—to begin with. Tristero stands up in a huff and completely leaves the room, slamming the door to the back porch. Angelo and Adelaide jump up to go after him, giving Maelgwyn looks of apology and pity. Severea regards her brother with a deep sadness, and she and her partner rise and follow them out more slowly. The festively decorated table suddenly seems ridiculous and inappropriate in the sober atmosphere. Maelgwyn feels like slinking under it, pressing his head into a corner and hiding for the rest of the night. He can hear Samothes washing dishes aggressively, trying to regain some sense of control over the world. The way he bangs each dish brings Maelgwyn back to the arguments that used to echo through this house in his childhood, and how badly he would flinch at every little noise.

Samot rises from the table, still fixing Ethan with an openly malicious look. He walks around the table slowly, scaring Maelgwyn more with each step. "You've got a little something," he says, and then hauls Ethan up by the scruff of his neck like a kitten and scrubs vigorously at the corner of his eye. He drops him just as quickly, looking furiously satisfied, and storms off to the kitchen after his husband. Ethan sits there, blinking and stunned. When he looks at Maelgwyn questioningly, he can see that Samot had wiped off the eyeliner he's been so insistently smudging towards his temple. 

It almost makes Maelgwyn laugh despite everything, and then the hissing whispered argument beginning in the kitchen reaches him and all mirth he could’ve summoned evacuates his body abruptly. He took this too far. He knows that. He sinks down in his chair, every harsh consonant he can hear hitting him in the stomach like a blow. There’s nothing he can do. There never has been.

He, Ethan and Samol are the only ones left at the table. "I'm sorry," Ethan says, soft and genuinely regretful.

"It's alright, son. You didn’t know." Samol gets up and claps him on the shoulder. Maelgwyn watches Ethan re-evaluate how frail he is, how much trouble he has getting himself upright. For a moment Maelgwyn wants to burst into tears and rest his head against his grandfather’s bony shoulder and tell him everything, lay out their whole horrible scheme and try to explain why he thought it was a good idea. 

He remembers confessing the fear and unease of his home life to Samol when he’d been a child in the midst of his parents’ impending separation, and the relief of Samol telling him he’d take care of it and letting him sit in his Marlboro-scented car as he walked into the house to chew his fathers out. Maelgwyn aches for the same sort of relief, but he still can’t bring himself to speak. He watches Samol make his way across to the door out to the back porch and rest his hand on the handle. “I’ll smooth things over,” he says in his effortlessly comforting manner, and steps out. 

Maelgwyn feels a fraction better, but only that much. Even though there's no one left at the table, he finishes his dinner silently. Ethan sits there for a few more moments, then follows suit. He seems unsure of what to say.

“I didn’t think it would come up,” Maelgwyn says when he can be verbal again. It feels like a woefully inadequate excuse. Ethan looks up at him from his dish. He doesn’t seem angry with him, for which Maelgwyn is awfully grateful.

“I guess it worked in our favor,” he says, but he sounds unsure. He pushes his food around a little and then looks up again, eyes anxious. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t—Don’t worry about it.” Maelgwyn doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. He stabs a piece of shrimp a little too hard. It’s quiet for a few minutes as they finish their food. The argument keeps gaining traction in the kitchen, growing more and more heated. Samol is coughing outside. Something about the harshness of the sound makes something in Maelgwyn snap. 

He gets up abruptly and slams open the door to the porch. It’s darker than he expected it to be, none of the porch lights on and the suburbs glittering in the moonlight in the distance. Samol is sitting on the edge of one of the porch swings, a lit cigarette between his fingers as he rests his hand on his knee. The Tristé siblings lounge on another of the benches, looking sullen. Their father leans against the railing at the edge of the deck. They all blink at Maelgwyn’s sudden, violent entrance.

"You're not supposed to smoke anymore,” Maelgwyn snaps at his grandfather.

"Maelgwyn," Tristero says warningly, but Samol waves at him and goes to stub out his cigarette.

"Naw, he's right. C’mon, Tristé, ain’t there been enough unpleasantness tonight?” Tristero glowers at Maelgwyn, but relents. He shoots an even dirtier look over Maelgwyn’s shoulder as the door opens. Ethan steps up beside Maelgwyn and puts a hand on the small of his back. Maelgwyn isn’t sure if it’s supposed to be a comforting touch or just a part of the act, but it makes him feel better to have someone at his back. 

Tristero takes a step towards the staircase that leads down to the backyard as if Ethan’s very presence disgusts him. Ethan takes bold steps out to meet him, hand outstretched. "It's was good to meet you.” Tristero regards him with a moment of wary disdain, trying to figure out what he's playing at, before he clasps it.

"Have a good rest of your night," he says, enunciating his accent pointedly. The moment he lets go and steps away, Ethan jams his hand in his pocket like he wants to get rid of the feeling of touching him. Maelgwyn appreciates his dedication to his job, even if the rivalry he’s trying to embroil himself in might be a little bigger than his paygrade. 

Tristero descends the stairs and walks off across the lawn into the dark. Galenica and Severea wait for him by a streetlight. Samol stays behind, rocking back and forth on his porch swing quietly. Maelgwyn wonders if he hates the family falling apart because of him as much as he does. “Where’s everyone going?” he asks Samol. All the venom has gone out of his voice, and he sounds small and tired.

“Just to take a breather,” Samol says evenly. Maelgwyn wouldn’t be surprised if he was lying to spare his nerves. His grandfather’s guitar is leaning against one of his rocking chairs, and Samol hobbles across to sit in it and pick up a quiet tune. Even if it doesn’t quite match the situation, it’s soothing. Maelgwyn crawls onto the porch swing he just vacated and sways back and forth miserably. 

(Read part 2 here)

[spockandawe]

I think I want.... to talk about Luo Binghe.

Because I never ever get tired of talking about Luo Binghe, honestly. And I’m trying to mentally prod at my bingliushen au, so talking about any of those three dorks (or about 79) counts as being productive, right? XD

Anyways, I think one of my favorite things with Luo Binghe is how insecure he is, but not in the more common ways I see insecurity done in fiction. He’s skilled as SHIT, and he’s confident in his skills. He’s smart as hell too, and a dedicated learner. Shen Qingqiu even has a spot in the book where Binghe is like ‘oh, where did shizun learn this?’ and it’s from reading the novel, but Shen Qingqiu bullshits like ‘uhhh it’s from a secret book back at the sect’, and immediately is like SHIT and Binghe is like ‘hmm it must be a very, very secret book if this disciple never read it.’

And in the canon-verse, he’s got a magnetic, charming personality. He collects this MASSIVE harem of pretty ladies, he manages to charm political figures, etc., etc. He’s plenty strong as a fighter, but it sounds like he doesn’t often have to bring that to bear, because he naturally manages people well. He winds up comfortably ensconced in a position of power and with no serious threats facing him.

However, comma, he’s still massively insecure on the level of like... basic interpersonal relationships. Which sounds silly, considering the size of the canonverse harem. But even in the novel extras where canonverse bing-ge hops over to the svsss universe and talks to sy!sqq, he still craves shizun’s approval. Even though he, uh, dismembered his own shizun, and had some dream-ish encounters with this version of shizun where he popped off a couple limbs (though it didn’t stick). He finds out shizun and this luo binghe are happy together and shizun takes care of binghe, and he’s like what the FUCK, WHY DOES HE GET THIS, WHY DON’T I GET IT, I WANT IT I WANT IT THIS ISN’T FAIR--

I love that, that he has literally hundreds of women ready to dote on him in all kinds of ways, but it sincerely throws him that his old shizun, who rejected him, is willing to treat another version of him so well.

And like, in the actual novel itself, Binghe being insecure is a straight-up plot point, which is delicious. It’s such a nice build of the pieces of his backstory, starting with the way his mom gave birth to him and immediately tossed him into an icy river (it was more complicated than that, but that is the sequence of events he is aware of). And in the canonverse and novelverse, it’s a hugely formative moment when his shizun is like ‘oh, you’re half-demon? lemme just yeet you off into the abyss and tell everybody you died’

Plus in the novel, that feeling of rejection only builds and builds once he comes back, which is SO EXTRA TASTY because the rejection is actually shen qingqiu being terrified of binghe, not because he hates him. But from luo binghe’s perspective, shizun is his most important person, and shizun loathes him THIS. MUCH. it was one of my FAVORITE moments, even experienced indirectly, where luo binghe is like ‘wow, shizun would literally rather die than stay with me’ (and refuses to accept that dafghsgdj)

And!!! It’s not resolved by shizun visibly softening up to binghe either!! Even after he softens, even though it’s already a MASSIVE concession in terms of his typical reserve, that isn’t enough. He holds Binghe a little too far at arm’s length, and Binghe melts down because he concludes that it’s been made clear to him now, nobody will ever choose to stay by his side, nobody ever has chosen to stay by his side, and if anyone he cares about is offered a choice, they will choose to leave him.

Which, honestly, is also probably one of the things that draws me SUPER hard to svsss fic. Even though the story has a pretty emphatic romantic conclusion, and the extras go hard on the romance too (the marriage extra was PRECIOUS), that is some fertile-ass ground for fic to prod at in more depth. That’s the kind of emotional chasm that a novel has to bridge and move past, but maybe i want to go wallow at the bottom for a year or ten. 

It’s a relationship that carries the codependency to slightly worrying extremes, but has the story behind it to OWN that codependency. In the 100 questions extra, binghe’s most precious wish it to stay by shizun’s side for three whole days. Shen qingqiu is like ‘what, only three days?’ and binghe is like ‘but after three days, surely shizun will be tired of this disciple’ and sqq is like ‘Nope.’ It’s not as much of like... a lazy, relaxed codependency as cygate, it’s a coiled spring filled with potential energy. Which means, of course, that i also love the fics where their relationship has lasted long enough that binghe is able to relax his grip a little without feeling like he’s going to lose everything. And oh my goddddd, i love bingliushen, and seeing binghe able to relax his grip enough to let someone else in? GOD!!!! DELICIOUS! 

(and, if we’re talking about my personal fanfic ventures, having a triad introduces all kinds of new and delicious tension to the mix. as well as silly, silly things like ‘leave room for jesus’ memes, except it’s ‘leave room for binghe’)

But this kind of emotionally-driven insecurity is EXACTLY my favorite kind of flavor for a character. Like... tbh, binghe is probably the premier mxtx example of insecurity, but it’s a LOT of what draws me to jin guangyao as well, and to xue yang once he realizes Oh No, These Are Emotions. My favorite angle on hua cheng deals with this a lot too. And with jin guangyao and hua cheng especially, they are INCREDIBLY SUCCESSFUL in their personal lives, and have a good measure of their own skills, but if you ask them to evaluate themselves on an emotional level, things get much more Complicated.

I don’t really have an end point to this essay, but it’s really interesting to me just how STRONGLY svsss and luo binghe especially grabbed ahold of my heart. I hadn’t really been expecting it, and I finished the story pleased and ready to move on. But then... I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I read tgcf and erha and am working on dreamer in the spring boudoir, and still can’t stop thinking about svsss. I love fannish navel-gazing, so here we are, yet again, haha :P

[kazimakuwabara]

One Part Cream, One part Coffee

Summary: Usopp’s first love, vs his current love. (pulled from a compilation of drabbles on my Ao3 account. kaya/usopp and then SanUso)

****

Usopp had tried coffee when he was twelve.

He had pilfered some from a neighbor, who had thrown a rock at him for spreading lies. He figured that jerk could do without his dose of daily caffeine if he was going to act that way!

Late at night, he crept into Kaya's house, and in a rare moment of daring, the two crept into the kitchen and had shared a cup of coffee. It had been too bitter at first, but Usopp remembered the sweet cream his mother used to pour into her cup. After finding some stowed away in the fridge, and pouring the cream into the cup until it overflowed, the two tried the beverage again. This time it was to their liking, and they giggled quietly about the mess and drink they had made.

When Merry caught them, Usopp ran for his life, and Kaya was confined back to her room.

For days they talked about the treat they had made with one another. Kaya didn't mention how she had a fever for two days, and Usopp also didn't bring up the fact that he couldn't sleep for a little over 24 hours after drinking it. It was still fun. They had done it together after all.

Usopp thinks he started to like Kaya then. More than his crew, and a little less than his mother. It had been something different, but good. Something that mixed so well, like the sweet cream in the dark brown coffee. The new honey color of the drink felt like Usopp's budding emotions. Warm, and very sweet.

But at twelve, he didn't know how to cultivate those feelings. This sweet feeling was just a treat, one he kept for himself as he enjoyed his friendship with Kaya. He reasoned they had many years to walk towards this new emotion together. They would discover what this emotion meant together, and they would go out to sea when Kaya could. She could be his doctor, and he would be the Captain. And when they were on the ocean, it would all fall into place. 

That was what he had told himself.

He liked to think her smiles at him weighed more, when she gave them to him. He thinks they did at one point. But the sticky sweet cream that the two had found when they were children, was meant to stay in childhood. Something changed the day she slapped him. When she didn't believe him when he told her about Klahadore. The slap was hardly painful, it stung, just a little. But what happened inside, felt much worse.

The jar of sweetness he had kept on a shelf inside him, fell off. It fell, and it broke and soaked into the pit of his stomach. Why didn't she believe him? He lied, and told her stories all the time, but why wouldn't she believe him about this? They were friends, right? She would know that after all their years together. That he would never lie about her safety. He knew her much longer then Klahadore, so why did she not trust him?

The spilled feelings of that day remained ruined. He couldn't shake off this ugly feeling, that there was no coming back from that pivotal moment. 

Kaya knew it too.

When he had met her at the edge of his island, when he planned to go off to sea, it had been an accident. He hadn't intended to say good-bye, he had full-heartedly planned to slink away. When Kaya met his eyes, something sad and remorseful passed through them. Her smile was brimmed with longing, but she seemed resolved to accept the fate she had played a part in. Still, she said she would wait for his return, and Usopp promised to tell her many fantastic stories when he got back. But his dream of taking her onto the sea was gone.

It was dropped among the sweetness of his first love.

It would have to stay there. Childhood couldn't last, and not everything from your youth could come with you.

He smiled at Kaya and left her behind. He thought, at the time, it was the bravest thing he had ever done. He would never have coffee with cream again. It was a little promise he made himself, something unspoken aloud or even fully thought of. But it was his decision, and he was going to stick by it.

It took some time on the sea, for him to appreciate the taste of black coffee. 

Even if he didn't like it at first, he drank it every day. Especially when Sanji joined the crew. You couldn't waste food with that guy, not if you wanted to keep your skin.

Usopp could be pretty good about keeping a straight face too. Well, in this case, he could smile as he tried to swallow the bitter brew.

"Longnose... what are you doing?" Sanji asked Usopp in the crow's nest one night. He had stopped by to deliver Usopp some drinks and a few snacks while he was on watch. As he opened the hatch, he was startled to see Usopp making a disgusted face as he finished a mostly cold mug of coffee.

"Oh... Sanji..." Usopp muttered around the drink, "Uh... just trying to get through this."

Sanji watched Usopp, with a rather large amount of confusion as Usopp coughed and shuddered after finishing the drink. Usopp then took the tray of food and drinks from Sanji. Usopp sighed, shaking off the last bit of revulsion, and then picked up the fresh mug of coffee Sanji had brought up. The look in Usopp's eye as he poured thew new batch must have let Sanji know Usopp's disgust was for the drink itself, and not the cool temperature. 

"Wait! Wait... if you hate black coffee so much, some milk or cream-"

"No," Usopp gently but quickly interrupted Sanji, "No. I can't have cream. No." Usopp's voice was sad, even if he hadn't meant it to be.

Sanji tilted his head, "Then I can start making you tea."

"No... I need to do this. Coffee is fine. Black is fine," Usopp sighed, looking purposefully away from Sanji.

Sanji sighed, "Well... if you're sure."

The next day at breakfast, Sanji set a cup of coffee down in front Usopp. It was different... somehow. Usopp squinted at it and glanced at Zoro's cup. Yup, Usopp's cup was somehow... a little more tinted with orange. Usopp looked around and then noticed Nami and Robin's mug was the same slightly different color that Usopp's was. Usopp felt a pulse inside his chest, his heart had picked up the pace. Usopp glanced at Sanji, who was watching him, his blue-gray eyes glaring hard at Usopp.

He lifted his own mug, and nervously Usopp copied him.

Sanji pressed the mug to his lips, and Usopp did as well.

Sanji slurped his drink, and blushing Usopp did too.

This brew was different. It was really good. Less bitter, and hinted in a fragrant note. Cinnamon? Nutmeg? Usopp really didn't know, he didn't have the pallet Sanji had. But it was good. Bitter but fragrant, the after notes of the drink rather nice.

Usopp drank the coffee and smiled when he was done. It was the best he'd ever had, and he didn't need cream.

Usopp hung back that night, and with his hands twisting nervously behind his back, thanked Sanji, "I know you don't give out special stuff unless it's for the ladies... so I really... I really appreciate it Sanji."

"Not a problem Longnose," Sanji shrugged, "I wanted to show you there were other types of brews that worked just as well. There are many different flavors of coffee out there, you should try everything."

Usopp nodded, and turned to leave, but Sanji called after him, "Oi, Usopp!"

"Uh... yeah?"

"Ask. I might, maybe, give you something special time to time," Sanji's voice was low and serious. He didn't turn to look at Usopp.

Usopp's chest thudded again. 

Usopp didn't think he could fall in love with the bitter notes of coffee, but maybe time would tell. It was different. Not what he expected. But now that he was starting to enjoy the flavor. He really wanted more. There was an extra spring in his step, when he left Sanji's kitchen. 

It became a secret tradition. Usopp and Sanji drank different styles and flavors of black coffee together. Usopp mirroring Sanji's first sip, and the two smiling with their eyes as they both basked in the flavor. Usopp always thanked Sanji for it, and Sanji smiled, his eye fixed on Usopp, filled with emotions the sniper wasn't sure of. Usopp thought he could reach out and touch it, and this time not be slapped in the face for it.

But then again... maybe Sanji wouldn't trust him either when it came down to it.

Usopp didn't want that to be the case. So he would settle for friendship. No use hoping for something different, no point in ruining a good thing. Better not try, better not hope.

After the events of Water 7, when Usopp was back with the crew, back where he belonged, Usopp sat alone in the crow's nest. He had said sorry a dozen times now, and everyone said he was forgiven. It still didn't feel right somehow.

"Oi, Longnose, something for your shift!" Sanji's voice was just behind him, and Usopp flinched at the sound.

Usopp slowly turned around to face Sanji, who had pulled himself up to sit on the door of the trap door. His legs dangled casually through the rigging, and the tray was set between them.

Daring to scoot closer, Usopp glanced at the coffee. It was that slightly tinted orange color of the first new flavor of Coffee, that Sanji had ever offered him. Usopp's throat closed up at the sight of it, and his eyes welled with tears.

"I-I didn't think you would... would still do this with me," Usopp croaked, as tears began to drip down his cheeks in waves.

"Usopp..." Sanji whispered, his voice soft with concern.

"I'm s-sorry! I really messed up, I'm sorry! I thought I'd ruined everything. I'm sorry, really sorry! I-" Usopp began to babble, and Sanji took Usopp in his arms.

Usopp stiffened, quaking against the embrace he didn't feel like he rightly deserved.

"I know. I believed you the first time. You're sorry, and I know you mean it. You don't have to keep lamenting the issue!" Sanji's voice grew exasperated and his hold on Usopp tightened. "It's done. You're back. You're back with us. And we're so glad. I'm so glad. We'll share coffee together, like always."

Usopp buried his face in the crook of Sanji's neck and sobbed against the chef. His hands fisted the fabric of his nice vest, and he wept relieved that he was believed. That Sanji had faith in him. That Sanji had pulled him to him, instead of slapped his face.

"...You've been afraid we weren't ready to accept you back?" Sanji accused his voice rough and raw, "How stupid can you be, you shitty longnose. You're our sniper! You're home." One of Sanji's hands had come to tangle in Usopp's hair, and he tugged it at the root. Usopp circled his arms around Sanji's waist, bringing them closer. He had managed to get his sobbing more under control and rest his cheek against the nape of Sanji's neck.

He would have happily stayed tucked there if Sanji let him.

But instead, Sanji pulled Usopp away and then tilted the Sniper's face up. Usopp blinked, confused as Sanji seemed to be trying to figure something out. Usopp's face was turned again, at a slightly different angle, and Sanji descended down on him. Sanji kissed Usopp at the perfect angle to avoid Usopp's nose, a careful calculation that Sanji had considered.

Sanji's eyes closed, his brow narrowing in determination, as he seemed to be trying to pour everything into this kiss. Usopp gasped at the tingling shock of warm lips against his, and stubble slightly scraping his chin, as well as the feelings that Sanji was trying to have him drink.

Sanji took Usoop's gasp, as an invitation, and slid his tongue into Usopp's mouth.

Usopp stiffened a little more, nervous hands flying to Sanji's chest. But Sanji pulled Usopp closer and kissed him all the harder. Usopp trembled, his heart racing as he tried to copy Sanji's movements. Was this the right amount of pressure for a kiss? Did you suck on the tongue as so? Where should his hands be? Did Sanji like it? Like it as much as Usopp did?

Sanji broke away to gasp for a breath, and Usopp gasped too. At his desperate intake, he realized Sanji tasted like the coffee the both of them loved. Usopp tried to speak, but Sanji's lips were on his again, and Sanji's hands had slammed down on the wooden floor of the crow's nest, between Usopp's arm and near his hips. Usopp's back roughly bumped against the wall of the crow's nest, but he brought both hands to Sanji's face. Sanji's skin was soft and slightly cool in his hands, but as they kissed Sanji's cheeks grew warm. Usopp's hands slid into Sanji's hair, and Sanji continued to press and push against every small thing Usopp had to give.

Usopp's kissing was more timid and shy than Sanji's.

Sanji kissed him like he was starving.

Usopp shuddered. There was something nice about being kissed this fiercely, about being wanted so bad. 

Had Sanji been scared too?

Usopp had to shove Sanji hard after a couple of minutes of intense kissing. Sanji, rather reluctantly, finally pushed away, a string of saliva still connected between their lips. Usopp choked, in desperate need of breath, while Sanji licked his lips, breaking that small strand, a hungry look in his eyes as he looked at Usopp. Usopp choked and coughed, spots dancing in front of his eyes. "Ah! You love-cook! Are you trying to suffocate me!?'

Sanji had the decency to blush red and look embarrassed. Coughing uncomfortably, Sanji mumbled, "I thought you would run away, and you didn't... you...you kissed me back."

The suggestion hung in the air, and Usopp nodded nervously. He could still taste the coffee on his lips. Taking in gulps of air, and feeling his face hot with a myriad of emotions, Usopp licked his lips. He was sorry that the kissing had stopped, but he needed to think clearly. Sanji's eyes flickered at Usopp's tongue, and he grit his teeth with impatience. Sanji did not like this pause in their kissing, something that thrilled Usopp in the back of his mind.

The predatory gaze was thrilling, and Usopp felt his nostril's flare as his own excitement mounted. But there was something that needed to be said first before they could continue.

"I like you," Usopp and Sanji said at the same time, though Sanji said it with less of a tremor in his voice.

Tension bled from both their bodies once the words were out, and Sanji reached out for Usopp's hands, gripping them tight. Usopp leaned forward, his forehead pressing against Sanji's shoulder, and for a moment he thought he might cry again.

"I thought... I didn't think you could like me. I'm not... not a girl," Usopp muttered, relief washing all over him. Sanji wanted him. Sanji believed in him and wanted him. Out here on this sea, on this new ship, Usopp was wanted.

"You're you," Sanji whispered dryly, "it doesn't matter you're not a girl. You're you, and I want you."

Usopp shuddered, and closed his eyes. He let himself smile. Sanji encircled Usopp in a hug again, holding tightly on to the sniper's small frame. They held each other, and something better than that sticky sweet love of childhood, was warming him up from within. As warm as a fresh cup of morning coffee.

Sanji and Usopp eased into each other, calmer, and quieter this time.  Sanji tucked his nose into Usopp's hair, and Usopp curled against Sanji's chest. They steadied their breaths together, the warmth of their bodies and steady rhythm of their heartbeats calming them. They both ignored the coffee that was growing cold.

Usopp thought briefly of Kaya. Her sweetness, and her kind smiles. She was his first love. Sanji's hand swept over Usopp's back, warm and rough, pressing Usopp against him a little too hard. Usopp sighed, eyes fluttering closed.

He preferred the black coffee of adulthood better.

[knchins]

Hi Ally!! Hope you’re well today; I saw you were doing match ups and thought i would send u one :3 My pronouns are she/her; I’m okay with either gender! I’m a pisces and ISFJ personality type. I really love playing games, hanging out with my partner, and trying new snacks, LOL. I’m a bit introverted so I tend to need a lot of alone time too. I have like an athletic but not slim build with hazel eyes and brown hair medium lengthish hair and that’s all I can think of to tell you JSJSJD You can do the fandoms: BNHA, Fire Force, and Haikyuu! Any single one or all, whatever you’re feeling! Have fun! :)

eee Lily!! I was so excited to get a message from you uwu

I have found your matches!! I pair you with...

Eijirou Kirishima!!

Okay BNHA was kinda tough because there were so many that came to mind when I thought of you. Ultimately though I decided on the boy with the best dye job!

Kiri absolutely loves your hazel eyes. He thinks they’re just so unique and he swears he sees a different color every time he really looks at them. He also quite adores your athletic build, find it very appeasing to the eye.

He favorite way to spend time with you is to play games with you and your friends. Him and Bakugou get a bit too competitive, but you don’t seem to mind. Of course if he notices your social battery is about empty, he quickly makes an excuse for you both to go home so you can recharge and not get overwhelmed.

Of course, he understands your need for alone time and totally respects that! When he sense that you would like some space, he is perfectly capable of occupying his time doing something else. He knows that you’ll reach out when you’re ready to be social again, and doesn’t worry or get upset by the distance. If he gets lonely and wants company, then he’ll go hang out with Bakugou or Denki to pass the time.

Your defender personality type is perfect for pro-hero Kirishima! Your kind heart and lovable personality makes it easy for anyone to fall for you. Kiri knows he hit the jackpot when you agreed to go out with him and he cherishes your relationship very much. He is extremely protective of you and if anyone hurts your feelings then he’s quick to problem solve.

A perfect date I feel like would be a nice night in! He’ll order your favorite foods for takeout and you can stay cozy at home while you eat before playing some co-op video games together. Kiri knows he doesn’t have to do anything super extravagant to convey his love to you, which is another thing that makes you so great for him!

Maki Oze!!

Gorilla Cyclops Girlfriend!

Maki was honestly surprised that you even wanted to date her. Her poor self image makes her believe that she doesn’t deserve you, despite how many times you tell her that’s simply not true! You are both kind hearted and caring. She definitely is a hopeless romantic though and is unafraid to show you love for you both in public and in private.

Her favorite thing to do for you is to find new snacks for you both to try! Whether its a limited edition flavor and a special seasonal treat, she’s become a pro at hunting down even the rarest of foods. She loves watching your face as you try them, and gets a good laugh if you don’t like it because of the expression you make.

Maki is very fun loving so she definitely would want to take you out around the town. She likes to keep you to herself mostly, so she probably wouldn’t invite anyone else. Though she would definitely try to buy you anything you want, even if you protest.

That being said, if she senses you want some alone time, then she knows to distance herself. Though she’s not as good at being away from you, she knows that being too clingy isn’t good for any relationship. During those times she tries to train or maybe hang out with her coworkers at the 8th. Anything to distract her from how much she misses you.

The perfect date for you both I believe would be a carnival! You both play games to try to win the other prizes, and you love to try all the different foods that are available. Both of you have a lot of fun and its not something you’ll ever forget!

Kenma Kozume!!

Okay but having a pro-gamer rich boyfriend would be such a dream

Kenma also adores your eyes, though he never really says it. You just often times catch him staring, lost in thought of how you ended up with a guy like him. He is incredibly grateful to have such a loving girlfriend with the same interests as him, one that he knows for sure isn’t just after his money.

Though the go-to couples activity is game playing, Kenma is extremely competitive which can sometimes be a bit annoying. He is not the best loser in the world, but he won’t throw a temper tantrum if you win. He’ll just see it as a reason to get better and try again. He’s always looking for a rematch and you’re more than happy to oblige him!

Luckily, with his incredibly busy schedule, it is easy for you to find alone time. Kenma is the type to also need time to himself to recharge, though occasionally he doesn’t mind sitting in the same room as you. You are the kind of couple that can be content with sitting next to each other but doing two entirely different things. Just your presence is enough to bring him peace.

Kenma doesn’t show a whole lot of emotion, but that definitely doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel any. You are able to read him perfectly so he doesn’t have to say exactly how he’s feeling all the time. You naturally pick up on when he’s feeling down or maybe needs some extra love and encouragement. He’s very happy to have a partner that is able to do that for him, as others simply though he was cold and distant.

Perfect date? I’d say going to the arcade and playing on retro machines together! You can do fun co-op games or even verses. He’ll rent out the entire arcade so that no one else will be there to bother you besides staff. Unlimited game play with your boyfriend? What could be better than that?

Event Page

[avengerscompound]

The Grind House - Chapter 3

The Grind House: A Bucky Barnes Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x  F!Reader

Word Count:  1406

Rating:  E

Square filled:  @buckybarnesbingo - B3 Pining, @marvelfluffbingo - Mutual Pining, @star-spangled-bingo - Mutual Pining

Warnings:  None for this chapter, future smut most likely

Synopsis:  When Bucky Barnes stops to get coffee and warm up at your coffee shop, he had just expected that caffeine might lift his mood a little. He didn’t expect to fall head-over-heels for you over a game of chess.

Chapter 3

It was weird to develop a crush on a customer after so few interactions.  It had happened before.  Not serious ones or anything, but there had been a few customers who’d come in almost daily that were consistently nice that you might have confused niceness for affection and started drawing your initials together inside hearts while you absentmindedly doodled on things.

This was different.  There felt like their might be something there.  Like these little interactions you’d had where you’d just talked while you were playing chess between serving customers were almost dates and you were unlocking more and more about each other and you really liked him.  Not knowing when he was going to show up again, or even if he would ever show up again, was slightly painful.  The second time he showed up and you ate your lunch with him you’d been really excited to see him.  You had expected that he’d maybe just not get the time and then forget about it.  Those things happened and he was a celebrity after all.

When he showed up today, just after the breakfast rush it felt like you heard lept into your throat.  You couldn’t have helped the smile that spread over your features if you wanted to.  He hung his coat on the hook and turned, smiling at you.

“Hey, Bucky,”  You said warmly.  The store was mostly empty now.  A group of college students was burning up your wifi as they worked on a group project at the largest table, each nursing a completely different drink, and there was a couple of tourists who had stopped in to warm up after not being quite prepared for the snow.  “You here to play?”

“If you aren’t busy,”  Bucky said coming over.

You gestured vaguely around the room.  “I think you’re safe.”  You joked.  He smiled a little.  A shy smile of a man who might be relearning how to do it.  It made sense that might be the case.  “What can I get you?”

“You said something about syrup?”

In the end, he’d ordered a caramel latte.  It was still a safe choice, but one that pushed the boundaries of his experience a little further.  He’d also ordered one of the large chocolate chip and macadamia nut cookies.  You made his drink and one for you too and grabbed two cookies while Bucky set up the chess board.  Two more tourists came in while you were putting things on a tray and you served them before coming over to the table with everything.

You looked over the board and frowned.  “Hey, you took my knight.”  You said.

“Them’s the breaks.”  He said.

You chuckled and took a seat as you went over the potential moves.  Bucky took a sip of his coffee and looked at you.  “What the fuck?”

“What?  No good?”  You asked as you took his rook with yours.

“It’s so good.  Why have I been drinking black coffee so long?”

You shrugged and shook your head.  “With your sweet tooth?  I have no idea.”

He smiled and blushed a little.  Not much.  You could just see the pink reach above his beard line. “You noticed the sweet tooth?”

“How could I not?  You get the sweetest desserts each time.  It’s never just coffee.”  You said, grinning.

Bucky moved his rook next to his king to protect it and shook his head a little.  “Dunno where it came from.  Everything was so bland growing up.  Now I’m just like ‘give me all the sugar.’  Steve’s the opposite.  Likes things with flavor but if it’s too sweet or too spicy, he can’t take it.”

“That’s really interesting.  I know you have to kinda develop your palate.  But you poor sugar-starved thing.”  You said and moved your queen forward one space.

He laughed.  He rarely did that and it always made you feel extra soft.  “Yeah, gotta make up for lost sugar.”

A couple of customers came in and you got up to serve them.  Unfortunately, when you finished with them two more came in.  When you returned to your seat Bucky had finished his cookie and was down to only a quarter of a cup of coffee left.  He’d also taken your rook with his bishop.

“Sorry about that.”  You said.

He shrugged.  “It’s your job.”

“Still, I’ve been having fun.”

“Me too,”  He said with a rather cheeky twinkle in his eye.

“You looked over the board and shook your head.  “Can’t believe you took my rook.”  You said.

“Like I said, them’s the breaks.”  He said with a twinkle in his eye.

You scrunched your nose and moved your night taking his bishop.  “Yeah, well, so are those.”

He chuckled.  “Not sure that was the best move.”  He said and moved his queen to the side, putting you in check.  “Check.”

“Bucky!”  You squawked.  Not so much upset that it looked like you might be very close to losing, but more that if you did there was no more reason for him to come back and hang out with you.  Maybe he would anyway.  Maybe it wasn’t just about finishing this game for him either.  You’d hope he might actually ask you out and then you could actually go on a date with him.  You couldn’t ask him.  It was against the rules you had made yourself.  This was supposed to be a safe place.  Where customers could come unharassed.  The rules were if a customer made you feel unsafe you could also tell them to leave even if it was only one of the lunchtime coffee makers and not management that felt that way.  So the entire ball was in his court now and you were reluctant to make any more moves because you were worried that even if he did feel that way about you, maybe he wasn’t at an ‘asking strange women out’ stage of his life.

It was also a lot to assume this Avenger had any feelings for some woman who made coffee for a living.

You used your knight to take his queen.  It was the only move you could make and it wasn’t exactly a good one.  He looked at the board and drained the last of his coffee with a frown.  You didn’t know what he was waiting for.  There was one very obvious move there.  He had to take it.  He even put one of his metal fingers on his plastic rook and was rocking it back and forth in on the board.

“Why don’t you take the move?  You know it’s the only one.”  You said.

“I don’t know.  If I take it, the game is over.”  He replied.

“We have other games.”  You said.  “Finishing this one doesn’t mean we have to stop playing together.”

He shifted the rook from side-to-side.  “I guess not.”

“You could come to one of our Friday night things?”  You suggested.  That wasn’t exactly asking him out.  They were public events after all.  Anyone could come.  “You could play with my friends.  Or I could play with you and yours.  Or you know?  Whatever?”

“I guess… yeah.  That would be fun.”  He said and a half smile spread over his features.

“There’s always the coffee too.”  You said.

“Right.  Still, so many flavors to try.”

You laughed, which made the smile form fully.  “Yeah, lots more ways to make it sweet.”

He chuckled a little and moved his rook, putting you into checkmate.  “Mate.”

You pretended to go and flip the table.  “God damn it!”

He laughed and reached forward giving your arm a small pat.  “I know.  Sucks to lose.”

You chuckled, but your skin flushed where he touched it.  “Sure does.  I’ll be sure not to next time.”

He started to pack the game away as you cleared up the cups and plates.  “This has been fun, Bucky.  I hope you’ll keep coming back.”

He looked up at you and smiled.  There was a look in his eye.  Slightly hopeful.  You hoped it meant he could feel that tiny ember of potential you were feeling too.  “Yeah.  I’ll be back.”

You took the dishes back, collecting up other empties from the room and wiping down tables.  That crush you had deepening a little more.

“Bye!”  He called as he opened the door.

“See you, Bucky.”  You called back and as the bell jingled when it closed you started counting down until the next time you saw him.

// NEXT

[saskiel]

Moment you loved her

A short story which was written for @sakuramonth , by me.

This one holds a special place in my heart. I am not sure why. It’s rather bittersweet and it makes me cry. Is it a good or a bad thing when my own story makes me cry, lol.

Also, if you do read the story all the way to the end, I am curious about who do you imagined asked who. It was made open to the reader's interpretation on purpose.

Two life-long rivals were dressed in black, standing side by side, their heads down. They were the last ones here, everyone else has already left. Itachi turns away from the lifeless body in the display coffin, glancing at Kakashi.

"How about we bury the hatchet for tonight and get a drink? She'd want that," the other man sighs in response but nods in agreement.

An hour later they are sitting in a quiet pub, each nursing a glass of hard liquor. Neither of them has said anything ever since they left the funeral home. Looking at them, no one would be able to tell these men used to brawl about the stupidest little things during university studies. They simply look tired, anyone could confuse them for two businessmen who needed a bit more time after a trip out of the country before returning home.

"The ceremony was done well. It was nice seeing everyone there, even with these circumstances," Itachi blinks, unsure if he heard his drinking companion correctly. When the man across from him offers no more words, he decides that this is as good of a start as any other.

"Yes. It was peaceful, wasn't it? I'm glad so many of her friends were able to make it, given the short notice," he takes a sip from the glass, hoping the alcohol would blur the memory of the phone call from the hospital, still fresh in his mind.

For a while they are just sitting silently again, each lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly, Kakashi smiles and snorts. Itachi looks up from the amber liquid, frown on his face.

"You know, I still remember the first day I saw her. She was waiting for someone in front of our school during December. It was cold that year and there was a lot of snow. It was somewhat of a miracle that I even saw her, she was all bundled up. Her face was facing the gray sky and she seemed to savor the light touches of snowflakes falling on her skin, melting instantly. Not sure if it was the pink hair or the serenity that she radiated, but I thought at that moment that she is the most beautiful creature I've ever seen in my life," Itachi smiles at Kakashi, afraid to say something that would break the fragile moment between them.

"She was there every week after that, always on Thursday. Sometimes she'd be looking at her phone, drinking a coffee from Starbucks or reading a book. It took me over a month to gather the courage to approach her. She was sipping from a tumbler and was staring into nowhere. When I was finally standing in front of her I was suddenly unsure of what to say. It took her a while to notice me, but when she did, she just smiled at me and said hi. She made it look so simple," he shakes his head, remembering how he must have looked like a total nitwit at that moment.

"I was wrong, you know. When I thought that she was a beauty. Because when those green eyes were smiling at me, I would have given her anything she'd ask for, right there. I still can't believe that she married you," for the first time ever, there is no venom in those words when he addresses them to Itachi.

The dark-haired man glances down at his wedding band and mindlessly touches it. Then he smiles.

"You know, there are days I cannot believe it either," they share a genuine chuckle. After that, Kakashi goes on about their first encounters and how he learned that she was waiting there for her friend. He mentions that he saw her at the funeral as well.

A good hour passes by and Itachi listens to the stories that come pouring out of the silver-haired man. Some of them he heard before from Sakura's point of view, some of them are new to him. He enjoys hearing them all - makes it easier to accept that she is no longer with them. There is no question about the other man's love for his deceased wife. Then again, it never was in a question before.

The waiter comes and gives them new drinks. Kakashi raises the whiskey glass in a toast.

"To Sakura," Itachi repeats the simple but meaningful toast when their glasses connect. After all, it means so much more to both of them. It would be impossible to put it into words even if they tried.

"The first time I've seen her was at our house. She came by to study with Sasuke, they were still in high school. I did not think much of her back then, but she was very polite and I knew my mother loved her instantly as she stepped through the door," Itachi smiles, still fond of the memory.

"She started coming over more often when they were preparing for the final tests. The three of them, Sakura, Sasuke, and Naruto, were always so loud. You know how the three would get when they got together. Sometimes I'd have to leave to go do my own studying elsewhere," Kakashi chuckles at the misfortune of young Itachi, knowing full well that the trio was always a force to be reckoned with.

"But then I saw her years later. It was a formal event but I wouldn't be able to tell you of what anymore. I can only remember her from that night. She was wearing a dark long-sleeved dress which was revealing most of her back. There was a glass of champagne in her hands while she was chatting with Ino about something. The moment she laughed I knew I wanted to hear her laugh every day for the rest of my life," Itachi stops speaking, not able to continue. He wants to tell the other man about how they danced that whole evening, how his hand was touching her skin and that made him happy, but he's afraid his voice would betray him. He takes a sip of his drink instead.

Kakashi is observing him and waits patiently. Although he did not understand Sakura's choice in men, they are both on the same page now. Mourning. He would give him the time he needs because he needs it and they need each other.

"She really did love her Starbucks coffee, didn't she?" Itachi surprises the silver-haired man with such random question, seemingly out of nowhere. But soon after he agrees with the statement, remembering all the times she'd drag him to every Starbucks in the town.

"Yeah, she for sure did. Do you remember how she would pout when they no longer served the coconut flavored latté? From the way she was explaining it to the barista when he informed her that they no longer have it – you'd think that the world was about to end," Kakashi shakes his head in disbelieve, but with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I'm guessing she had to settle for a 'caramel macchiato, with an extra shot and whipped cream on top'," they recite the infamous order together and burst out in laughter immediately afterward.

And for a while, they forget. They forget that they won't hear her laughter anymore, or see her get furious about any seasonal flavoring that she might like a little too much. That they won't see her play with her hair when she's completely absorbed in reading the newest book from a series that she adores and quotes it all the time. Even though she's the only one who understands the reference.

Itachi won't wake up with her head on his pillow tomorrow morning.

Kakashi is not going to see her for their weekly board games evening this weekend.

"I've got this whiskey at home. Maybe you'd like to come by and we could see if it's any good any time soon?" There's a hint of uncertainty in his voice, but he asks anyway.

"Yeah. That sounds pretty good to me," they exchange an understanding glance. After that, they pay and leave the bar. Sometime tonight, when they were sharing stories, it started snowing outside…

[drippinwalchemy]

This Thing That I’m Saying

Part 1 of the Either/Or Series

Summary: Simon and his friends have graduated from Creekside and are ready to enjoy their last summer together. Hanging out at Leah's one afternoon, Simon, Bram, Leah and Abby make plans for the rest of their time together.

Pairings: Simon Spier/Bram Greenfeld

Characters: Simon Spier, Bram Greenfeld, Abby Suso, Leah Burke, Nick Eisner

Tags: Fluff, Canon compliant, Gay male character, college, summer, angst, pining. 

Words: 2149

Canon Compliant with Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14134404

--

“I can’t believe you guys talked me into getting my face painted before we took all these” Leah groans.

“Aw, Leah that cat on your cheek is so cute though!” Abby exclaims.

“That’s Totoro,” Leah says, never missing a chance to correct Abby or an opportunity to talk about anime. “He’s like a giant rabbit forest spirit or maybe a small bear? It’s unclear.”

“Thanks for clarifying,” Abby deadpans, “Can’t believe I got a diploma never knowing who Totoro was.”

Graduation was a week ago, and we’re going through pictures from the senior party on Leah’s deck. I guess a couple of years before Alice was in high school some kids had left graduation and gone to a party where there was alcohol and they all drove home drunk. They were in a pretty bad car accident and one of them even died, at least that’s what the rumor was. Ever since, Creekwood has had a mandatory Senior Party right after graduation. All the seniors head to the school which is decked out in Creekwood color balloons, full of food, and set up with events and activities to occupy our time all night. We had gotten our faces painted, then decided it was a good idea to head to the photo booth. It’s pretty lame but we all secretly (OK very openly) had been psyched about it for weeks.

“Not a problem, we still have all summer to knock out that Miyazaki marathon you guys promised me!” Leah says with a smirk.

“Yes! And that Buffy marathon we’ve been talking about FOREVER. I still can’t believe you think I’m Cordelia-” Abby laughs, missing Leah’s purposefully obvious eye roll.

“Hey we talked about this,” Bram interjects, “we’re done making plans for this summer, graduation was a full week ago! Let’s start making some headway on this list of ours.”

“Yaaasss!” Abby howls, “we could really make some progress if Nick would hurry up already! Where is he? It’s not like our coffee order has changed over the last two years.”

Leah and Abby start guessing what was taking Nick so long: he had forgotten the drinks on top of his car again and they flew off as he clipped the corner out of the parking lot, he’d gone home to change out of his work clothes to look nice for Abby, he was at the hospital from burning himself on the cappuccino maker again.

Bram turns to me “You OK? You’ve been quiet since we got here.”

I realized I wasn’t talking as much today but honestly, I'm fine with that. I like listening to my friends talk, soaking up their banter. I woke up after the senior party reliving how much fun we had getting our faces painted, playing giant Jenga, Bram even did a cake walk but the prizes were a bunch of ridiculous pairs of boxers. All the soccer guys won a pair and wore them over their jeans, except Bram of course, he was so modest I think having anyone see him in his underwear even with a full set of clothes on would cause him to disintegrate (‘cept me of course). Since the party though I realized I had taken a back seat with my friends, watching them joke and make all our plans for the summer was something I knew was quickly going to change. After all we’re starting college in August, and aside from Leah and I we’re all scattering, even Bram and I, but I can’t think about that yet, I won’t.

“Yeah, I’m good,”  I say, grabbing his hand. “I’m just really happy it’s a Thursday afternoon and I’m somewhere other than Calculus.” God, why did I think Calculus was a good idea, college credit be damned there’s no way it was worth all that grief, although I did get to use the “Mom I need to go to Bram’s for help with Calc” excuse pretty loosely.

“Simon look at this picture of you and Bram!” Abby cooes, holding up her phone. Someone had taken a bunch of the “winners” from the night and posted them to Creeksecrets. On her phone is a picture of Bram and I laughing, me with my head buried in his neck, a hint of the Harry Potter scar I had painted on my forehead peaking out between my hair. Bram got a soccer ball on his cheek, he said it was the boring and obvious choice, I told him it was authentic. I smile and stifle this weird feeling in my chest that maybe words like ‘forever’ don’t mean what they used to.

“Oh my God look at all the hashtags on this!” Leah says grabbing the phone. “#CoupleGoals #Gay #Boyfriends #Spierfeld, you guys this is seriously giving me heartburn it’s so dumb and cute.”

“Aw, I love that picture Babe” Bram says squeezing my hand. We exchange side glances and I know he’s as over it as I am. Ever since we came out Junior year there seemed to of amassed a low key following on the Tumblr of straight girls who had essentially turned us into a meme. At first it was flattering and felt empowering almost, but it quickly became a very high key freaking nightmare. Leah says straight girls fetishize gay guys because we subconsciously remind them of what a heartthrob could look like in the absence of toxic masculinity (Leah started reading a lot of queer books when we came out to be supportive, she’s kind of like my gay guru). Bram has never been one for the spotlight and heck I had gotten so used to being an extra in musicals I never thought I would be at the center of my own story one day, let alone one about love. Dammit there’s that feeling again. Like my heart is beating in my throat and if I speak my friends will get covered in blood. I wonder if Elliott Smith ever wrote a song about this feeling, I doubt it, but I mentally add going through his song book when I get home to the other list of things to do this summer.

Leah senses Bram’s tone. “Look it’s weird for sure, and a lot of these sophomores really should be focusing on studying for the SATs, not fantasizing about you two.”

“Oh wow” Bram says under his breath. I think the idea of anyone but me fantasizing about him makes him nervous, let alone a 16 year old girl.

“But there’s a lot of people who look up to you for legit reasons, people you’ve inspired and people you helped in ways you can’t even fathom, just by being yourselves,” Leah goes on, “that comes with some responsibility so just revel in it while you can.”

Bram’s holding my hand tighter and locks his fingers with mine. I know what he’s saying as soon as he adjusts his hand. Sometimes I can’t believe how special he makes me feel. After prom, we all slept over at Nick’s house in his basement, Bram and I on a pile of blankets underneath his stairs (I may have made a scene to ensure we got the most Harry Potter spot in the basement possible). He fell asleep with his face towards me, his forearms wrapped up in mine. I must’ve stayed up for hours after he drifted off just looking at him, at his perfect knobby fingers and his gentle angled face barely visible in the light of Nick’s VCR clock. How could I be this happy at 18? Who gets to be this blissed out of their mind so early in life? I can’t help but think this means something is coming, I start thinking about the word forever again.

“Yeah guys sorry you’re so dang CUTE!” Abby chimes completely over exaggerated and thank god because this all got way too real way too quickly for how I’m feeling today.

“What gives you NEVER tell me I’m cute!” Nick runs in carrying five iced coffees and his guitar.

Leah and Abby look him up and down. “Definitely went home and changed,” Leah says staring at Nick’s henley.

“Oh you’re not foolin’ anyone with this caught up at work business babe, I smell your body spray from here, what did I tell you about that stuff?” Abby says “You won’t make any friends in Athens wearing that junk”.

“Hey I’m trying to save as much as I can for college and deodorant is expensive!” Nick replies. “Plus I’ve got like 6 flavors left from middle school, this one’s called Beast Mode ”.

“That’s horrifying.” Leah says grabbing her drink.

“Yeah please go shower this is not working for me” Abby says grabbing her coffee and pushing Nick’s face away playfully.

Bram and I both start cracking up as Nick slinks off to shower.

“OK you guys so let’s get to work on this summer then!” Abby says. “What should we do first?”

“Well I was thinking,” Bram says. “We had talked about getting away to the lake, I could ask my Dad maybe about going to his lakehouse next weekend?”

“Bram that’s brilliant!” Leah exclaims. “We should get out of town, I’m so sick of all these grad parties anyways. We get it Taylor Metternich, you’re going to Juilliard, I do not need to eat that information off a fucking cookie.”

“What do you think Si, want to go away next weekend?” Bram asks me. All I can think of is going away with him forever, whatever that means to me now.

“Let’s do it” I say with a smirk.

“What is who doing?” Nick yells from upstairs.

“We’re getting outta Dodge Eisner!” Abby yells back to him. “Make sure you get work off next weekend.”

Nick comes barreling back downstairs. “Yes! I love the lake, dibs top bunk!” Nick says without any hint of irony and Abby rolls her eyes and smiles into her hoodie.

Nick’s grabs his guitar. “Any requests?” He says.

“Play something to cheer Spier up” Leah says. “Where you at today Si?”

I’m a lot of places. I’m here, with my best friends, with my boyfriend. Shady Creek, my home my entire life, soon to be where I grew up. I’m at the end of Summer, I’m at Thanksgiving break when we’ll all be back and I’m even further out than that. I’m thinking about where I was, before I came out, when I met Blue, when I realized he was Bram. I’m everywhere between then and now. Once in physics our teacher said Einstein thought time was a circle and we could theoretically experience all of existence at once in the right dimension. I wonder if Einstein realized that before moving away to college.

“I’m just thinking about how much we still have left to do this summer!” I sigh. “How about some Tegan & Sara?”

“Aw Simon they’re so sad though!” Abby groans.

“That’s the whole point!” I exclaim and Bram starts to laugh cause I swear I’ve had this conversation with him so many times he could write a thesis on it.

“As you wish” says Nick, and he launches into an acoustic Leah’s deck version of Call it Off . Leah grabs Abby’s arm and gives her a side hug, Abby whips out her phone and starts an Instagram story filming Nick, he really is a good singer.

Maybe I would have been something you'd be good at

Maybe you would have been something I'd be good at.

Bram plops his feet up on my lap and I squeeze his calves, his cute firm soccer calves already starting to bronze from the week we’ve been out of school. I listen to Nick, to Tegan & Sara and look around and let myself feel what I’m feeling. I look at Abby and Leah, swooning and laughing and exuding the freedom that comes with this golden space between high school and college. I look at Bram, and oh my god it’s like looking at an eclipse, every muscle in my body transfixed on him while my nerves simultaneously burst into flames from how beautiful he is. I let myself be in this moment in my life, for today and for all the days that still remain in this perfect group of humans I get to call my home.

But now we'll never know

I won't be sad, but in case I go there

Everyday, to make myself feel bad

There's a chance that I'll start to wonder if this was the thing to do.

Leah and Abby chime in on the now we’ll never , and I close my eyes and feel the sun speckle my face through the leaves of Leah’s oak tree. I wonder if this happiness, our happiness, is worth the risk of the sadness it keeps at bay. It has to be, I tell myself as I hum the harmony and return to right now.

[icecoldparadise]

Thankful for a Change

Moxiety, Logince

I know not everywhere celebrates Thanksgiving, but here in Murica we do. So have fluff.

No trigger warnings.

             After the adventure of Halloween, the four men retreated to their own rooms for a much needed recharge period. They still ate meals together and worked on videos with Thomas, but no one was offended when the others kept to themselves for about a week. During that time, Virgil managed to convince himself the events from Halloween (especially between him and Patton) were just the influence of the holiday’s magic and withdrew even more from the others; Logan relished the quiet monotony of scheduling events and reorganizing information; Roman redecorated his room to reflect the new friendship dynamic he and the other sides had established (he refuses to tell anyone how he got pictures of them all in costume); and Patton looked back on the recent memories fondly while excitedly anticipating the next big event. Logan and Patton united first from the break with a common goal in mind: they needed to start planning their Thanksgiving celebration, which required both memories of past successes (and failures) and new ideas for this year. Roman felt them trying to brainstorm new ideas and felt inspiration flare up inside him. The three began planning, not realizing they were unintentionally leaving out the gloomier side. He had never taken part before, and while they would love him to they didn’t expect him to take any interest.

           It came as a surprise to them when he began giving small pointers here and there. Roman managed to find a way to decorate for the underappreciated holiday, and he was in the process of decorating the common room Virgil slinked in on his way to get coffee from the kitchen. He paused, a critical gaze on the prince’s handiwork. It was alright, but there were too many turkeys and the single orange streamer he had put up was haphazardly pinned up. “You should use some yellow and brown streamers, straighten the orange one, and put some of those turkeys in the kitchen.” The anxious side critiqued, his quick low voice startling Roman. The creative side turned to gape at him for a second before stepping back to look at his current progress. “Hmmm,” he began, and Virgil thought he was going to get mad for a moment when he continued, “You know what, System of a Downer, I think you might be right.” Virgil was surprised his opinion was validated and quickly muttered something about “Needing coffee” before disappearing in the kitchen. Logan and Patton were both debating the recipes they had settled on at the kitchen table. Virgil quietly listened as he got his much-needed caffeine fix. “But Logan! It’s a holiday! We should do everything and have lots of food to choose from!” The logical side quirked an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Patton, that’s absurd. Some of these recipes clearly have ingredients none of us like. We shouldn’t use them if no one will like them.” They went back and forth like this, running in circles. Virgil peered over their shoulders and read some of the recipes.

           Logan was right. A few recipes had ingredients such as prunes, spinach, cranberries or cooked broccoli. He scrunched up his nose reading those, but had to admit the rest of the recipe sounded delicious. “Why not just omit those ingredients and either substitute them with something else, or just scrap em entirely and make a modified version of the recipe?” He piped in before he could stop himself. The two stopped midsentence and gaped at him much like Roman did. ‘Ah, shit I ruined everything they probably think I’m annoying I shouldn’t have said—’ Patton beamed up at him. “That’s an excellent idea Virge!” Logan gave a small, stiff smile as well. “Excellent compromise, Virgil. I am quite certain we can work out alternative ingredients while still maintaining the integrity of these dishes.” The anxious side flushed before ducking out to his room, clinging to his coffee mug. His brain raced at the thoughts of them all liking what he suggested, but he couldn’t keep away the thoughts that they may just be trying to be nice while secretly hating what he said. He stayed in his room the next few days.

           At last Thanksgiving arrived and the entire mindscape felt warm and cheery, the scents of maple pancakes and bacon filling each room in a tasty breakfast call. Everyone stumbled into the kitchen to see Patton in a ridiculous turkey-themed apron with “Kiss the cook” stitched on the front. He turned briefly and flashed his characteristic smile beam at the others. “Morning kiddos! Happy Thanksgiving!” They greeted him, lightly teasing him for his apron (“Seriously Patton, it even has tail feathers!” A laugh, “It’s so I can shake a tail feather!” Groans.) Logan began spouting off facts related to the holiday, some of which mortified the fatherly cook, before Roman took mercy on the heart and turned the conversation away from the history of Thanksgiving. “I declare, I think this year I am the most grateful for our epic (if not slightly disasterous) Halloween adventure! It was the best one yet!” The creative side boldly stated, causing some laughter at the memories. “Remember how cute Logan looked as a cat?!” Patton cried out, causing the normally reserved side to blush and scowl slightly. “Oh! Or how those werewolves nearly got us but Virgil saved us?” The laughter turned to a solemn agreement. Logan peered at the flustered boy who was currently stabbing his pancakes with a vengeance. “Yes. I am quite grateful we got out of that alive and in one piece. I am also thankful for Thomas’s renewed interest in academia.” Roman snorted, choking on some orange juice he had just taken a swig of. “Of COURSE you would be, AstronoNerd.” Laughter resumed, and they piled into the living room to watch the Peanuts Thanksgiving episode. When that finished up Logan pulled out a book to read out loud while Patton started on dinner, and Virgil couldn’t help but follow him inside the kitchen.

The anxious one watched as Patton started gathering ingredients, noticing a haphazard measuring system that was mildly terrifying. “P-pat? That’s not how you measure stuff.” The fatherly side peered up, his eyes warming up the way they did on Halloween. “Whatdya mean, kiddo?” Virgil fought down a slight blush and ignored the slight chill that went down his spine. “You’re not… Um, being very precise and that can affect the flavor.” Patton tilted his head, thinking about it, then smiled and offered a apron to the other. “I suppose you’re right! Why don’t you help me out, Virge?” The dark brooding man nodded and quickly got to work. Everything was measured precisely, times were kept exactly in the middle of the suggested times, and food was plated to the detail. The entire time they cracked jokes, commented about how the food looked and smelled, joked about the cream of broccoli and possible effects it could have on Princy… And Virgil felt at peace. He ignored the unnecessary, almost affectionate contact Patton would give randomly throughout the process. He hid his disappointment when the cooking was done and Patton called the others in, not wanting the time between them to be done yet. Roman and Logan came in, looking suspiciously disheveled. Patton appeared blissfully ignorant but Virgil caught the subtle shift in his eyes- an amused warmth that wasn’t quite like how he looked at the anxious side. Virgil smirked, not able to resist a snide remark. “So Princy, I see you were extra Charming while Pat and I slaved away in the kitchen.” The sheer brightness of the red on Roman’s cheeks was worth the disapproving glare from Logan and the gentle chastising he received from Patton; still, he saw the two quietly hold hands under the table later and couldn’t help but feel simultaneously happy for them and a bit jealous of them. He shoved those thoughts down as they all grabbed a plate and loaded it with food. Conversation was light and full of abnormal amount of praise for the food. “I must say, Patton, this food is absolutely out of this world! You’ve outdone yourself this year.” Roman complimented, digging into some stuffing with turkey shredded into it. Patton glanced at Virgil before grinning widely. “Actually, I can’t claim all the credit here. If it weren’t for good ol’ Virge here, I would have added too much of everything all together.” The others looked at the hiding side with a pleasantly surprised expression on their faces. “You can cook, Green Day?!” Virgil buried into his hoodie more but nodded. “I-I learned so that Th-thomas wouldn’t burn the house down or give someone food poisoning.” He muttered, red as a beet. Logan rescued the clearly distressed side. “Well, I for one am grateful you’ve ensured our food is safe for consumption. If you aren’t opposed, I think it would be beneficial for you two to cook together from here on.” Patton and Roman enthusiastically agreed before moving on to spare the poor man from the attention overload. Midbite Patton exclaimed, “You know what I’m grateful for?! I’m thankful for how close we all have gotten and how far we’ve all come!” They all toasted to that, clinking glasses of juice together.

Once dinner was done Logan and Roman volunteered to clean up the dishes since the other two cooked, allowing them to plunk down on the couch in a food coma. Patton had sat close to the anxious side, which Virgil blatantly tried to ignore as his cheeks dusted red. “You haven’t told us what you’re thankful for, Virge.” Patton said softly, forcing the darker side to look at him. He ducked his head a bit. “I’m thankful for you, Pat. You’ve helped pull me out of the darkness, more than the others could.” Patton put an arm around him gently and pulled him into a hug. “Awww shucks kiddo. That’s the nicest thing someone’s ever said to me.” Virgil relaxed into the hug, heart racing a little at the contact. He noticed the moral side was still wearing his “Kiss the Cook” apron. Gathering up his courage, Virgil peered up at Patton. “Pat? Has anyone ever actually kissed you while you were wearing this?” Patton glanced down and chuckled, a surprisingly deep rumble emitting from his chest. “No, I don’t think so. The others aren’t very touchy-feely with me besides occasional hugs.” There was a brief silence as Virgil contemplated his next action carefully. Fuck it. He quickly kissed Patton, surprising the moral side. He was about to pull away when the heart gently stopped him and gave him a soft kiss back. Virgil’s heart fluttered, and they both cuddled together on the couch for the rest of the night.

  @storytellerofuntoldlegends

@justanotherpurplebutterfly @ssides  @thelogicalloganipus @pirate-patton @thatsthat24 @tinysidestrashcaptain @sidewritings @i-love-word-association-games @fandomsandanythingelse

[papillonrecordhouse]

Ebele x Liber: C-B Support + Event 1

In collaboration with: @mo-re-mi123

@fe-exire

Liber: *walking through the market, marking off a shopping list* Let's see, fruit, check, eggs, check, a new set of glasses, check... Looks like all that's left is spices and herbs. Now where can I find- *sees a merchant selling herbs* ah, perfect timing~

Ebele: *fidgeting with her fingers* Wh-what?!  500 g-gold for som-

Merchant: Look lady, that's my price! If ya don't like it then you can scram!

Liber: *notices the two bickering* Oh dear, this doesn't look fun.

Liber: *walks up to the merchant, flashing a charming smile* My my my, what seems to be the problem? Such a ruckus might scare away other customers~

Ebele: *jumps at his sudden appearance* !!!

Merchant: Huh? oh... Look, I don't want any trouble, but this lady practically wants to steal from me!

Ebele: I-I am not! I- *scared silent by his stare*

Liber: Oh? Is that right? *peeks down at Ebele, gives her a small smile of reassurance*

Liber: *looks back at the merchant, crosses his arms* And how, pray tell, is this lovely woman possibly "practically wanting to steal from you"? From where I'm standing, it looks like you're harassing this poor woman just because she can't pay for your outrageous prices.

Merchant: Wha-! *sweats* W-well obviously these are top quality herbs and spices! *gestures at the herbs that are obviously overpriced*

Ebele: The market price, at most I-I *looks like she'll back down, but looks at Liber* -is 215 gold...!

Liber: *smirks* Ya hear that? 215 gold. At most.

Liber: *looks over to Ebele* And how much was he charging you for those herbs there miss?

Ebele: 500 gold...! *looks at Liber desperately* He's the robber here...!

Merchant: *sweats* L-Look here Miss! I don’t need this trouble. Look I'll sell it to you at 215, and you keep quiet okay? *eyes darting, hoping no one heard*

Liber: *flashes a devilish grin* Listen, there's no need for anyone to get upset. You're just trying to make a living, right? And she's simply just trying to buy some nice herbs. So how about this?

Liber: I pay 350 for her herbs and you throw in some of those spices from the back and we'll call it square? No one has to start any trouble~

Merchant: *looks* What but-! *sees the grin and gulps* F-Fine! *gives them both their purchases, single tear in his eye*

Ebele: *takes it cautiously, then looks to Liber* Thank you so much sir..! *smiles a bit*

Liber: *smiles back* Not a problem. Anything to help a beautiful woman needing to be rescued from conniving rodents.

Liber: Dealing with merchants can be tough, sometimes it helps just to have an extra person around for back-up!

Ebele: B-BeaUti- *bright red, backs away* I- uh! *shaking, like she's going to be eaten*

Liber: *concerned, moves a little closer to her* M-miss? Are you alright? You're shaking-

Ebele: *backs away even more* I'M FINE. *quickly curtsies* THAnK yoU FOr THe ASsisTAnCE. I DO NoT DesIRe FuRTHeR AFfAiRS...! *sounds rehearsed but panicked*

Liber: *looks at her, confused and even more concerned* Um, are you sure? You're acting kind of off...

Ebele: GOOD DAY! *flies away*

[End of Support C]

 [Event: Vernalis]

Ebele: *walking around the streets when she smells something delicious* Oh! Is the feast today? *holds her belly* I hope Sis and Brother won’t be upset with me... *sighs*

Liber: *sighs* Damn it all, I can't find the others anywhere....

Liber: Guess I'll just head to the feast by myself then-

Liber: *notices Ebele* Hm? Wait a second, is that...?

Ebele: *hears someone and turns to see Liber* !!! *not sure what to do*

Liber: *walks over to her, smiles* Hey, you're the woman from the market, right? You ran off in such a rush I never got the chance to catch your name, haha.

Ebele: ! *looks at him* Uhhh, I-It’s Ebele... *darting her eyes around* I-I um... I'm sorry sir, but I d-do not desire any... "further affairs".

Liber: .....riiiiiiight, "further affairs".

Liber: I just came over to make sure you were okay, you had me a little worried there the other day. I hope nothing I said offended you?

Ebele: ... *looks at him cautiously* ... I... I just don’t appreciate advances sir. Um... What's your name, I didn't get it either…

Liber: Advances? Oh, I see, my apologies, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I was just simply stating a fact!

Liber: Liber Aurelius, at your service~ *bows gracefully*

Ebele: ! *feels flattered* Well again, thank you Liber for yesterday. I... umm I'm sorry for worrying you. I just... flattery is just not for me! It feels creepy when someone tells me things like that. *wants to hide her face*

Liber: Ah...I see then.

Liber: *smiles* I understand, won't happen again!

Liber: Are you attending the feast?

Ebele: No, sadly... I usually have it with my siblings, but they’re all the way in Goldoa. I actually completely forgot about it. Why? *looks at him with suspicion*

Liber: I was just asking if you wanted to go together! I seem to have lost my group and I figure instead of being alone, we could go with each other! Food always tastes better with someone else's company after all~

Ebele: ! Ah- *shocked but then curious* Are you sure? *looks down then up at him, with soft eyes*

Liber: Of course I'm sure! No sense in both of us being alone during a festival, might as well make the most of things, hm?

Ebele: *judges her options, but then her tummy grumbles* ! Oh well, I suppose you're right. *stands next to him, but with good distance between them* Very well then, um, lead the way?

Liber: Of course, right this way m'lady~ *offers his hand out for her to take it if she wants*

Ebele: *looks at his hand* ? ... oh! *pulls out her purse* Sorry I only have this much. Is there a toll for the feast? *hands him 100 gold*

Liber: *stares at the gold* uh.....

Liber: *hands it back to her* Never mind, let's just get going.

Ebele: *confused, but smiles* Okay!

[End of Event 1]

 Liber: *setting up the table* Okay, plates, check, flowers, check, Food, check.... Now all that's missing is Ebele...

Liber: *looks up at the clock, then back down* Ah, what the hell? She probably won't come. I guess I better get ready to call Chen over soon-

Ebele: *lightly knocks on door* Um, anyone home?... *looks at the paper with the address* This is it, right?

Liber: *hears her knocking* No way... *peeks through the window* I can't believe she actually came.

Liber: *quickly runs over, opens the door* Well hello there, welcomed guest~

Ebele: ! *jumps at the sudden opening* O-oh! Liber, thank you. *curtsies* It’s a pleasure to be here. So this is your home? *looks behind him, as if to be sure they are alone then relaxes*

Liber: Sure thing! Oh please come in, you're just in time for dinner!~ *runs back to the kitchen, allowing Ebele to make herself comfortable*

Ebele: *walks in, looking around* ... *looks at pictures then sees the flowers* Oh! How lovely. *quickly walks over* I have never seen flowers like this before! Are they native to here? *smiling brightly as she gently touches them*

Liber: *yells from the kitchen* Yes ma'am! A friend of mine helped pick them for me, I figured it would help set the mood haha.

Liber: *comes out carrying two hot plates of food, sets them both on the table* Milady, dinner, is served~! *bows dramatically*

Ebele: *looks at him and chuckles* Why thank you~ *smiles and takes in the aroma* It's heavenly! *takes a seat and waits for him*

Liber: *takes a seat* Prepare to be amazed~

Liber: I don't wanna brag, but when I said at the festival I could make something just as good, I meant it!

Ebele: I believe you, just by the smell. *takes a forkful and gasps* !!! *looks at him with wide eyes, filled with joy as she slowly chews her food* Oh my, such flavor! You added a bit of chili pepper didn't you? I can feel the kick~ *takes another forkful*

Liber: *lets out a sigh of relief, a huge smile spreads across his face* I'm glad that you enjoy it! I worked really hard!

Liber: Ahhhh, you noticed! Yeah I thought it really help bring out the main flavor.

Liber: How is everything else? Not too overdone? All the flavors balance out okay? How about- *realizes he's rambling, stops. Mumbles out a quick apology for his behavior before stuffing his face with the food in front of him*

Ebele: *chuckles and nods* It’s not overdone at all! Maybe a bit less salt and it would be exactly perfect! But close to perfect is still amazing! *puts has hand to her heart* You shouldn't apologize for your excitement, its endearing. You must really enjoy cooking. Where did you learn? *takes another forkful*

Liber: *face still red from embarrassment* A-ah, you think so? I suppose, although such behavior really doesn't fit my image I guess, hehe

Liber: *tenses up a little, tries to laugh it off* W-where did I learn? Oh, well, most of it I actually taught myself, but some tricks I learned from my brother. It was my mom who taught me the basics and really got me into it I guess, haha...

Ebele: Oh? Will I hope I can meet them sometime to thank them, their lessons have proven fruitful! *finishes her meal* Delicious! Even better than the feast for sure. *looks at him and notices his tension* Uh, is everything alright?

Liber: *shakes it off, throwing Ebele another smile* Of course, everything's perfect! Another person got to try my cooking and they loved it! What more could I ask for?

Liber: *already picking up her plate* Here, I'll just get this out of your way for you-

Ebele: *cups his hand by instinct but then let’s go* ! Um... Are you sure you're okay? *looks up to him* I didn't mean to intrude.

Liber: *slightly taken aback by her sudden reaction, then eases up* Ah, it's nothing really. You aren't intruding, I promise~

Ebele: *thinking then gets an idea* You know... There's a festival coming up. And after such a lovely dinner... I was thinking I could treat you to some then! I won't be busy with patients that day so... It'd be perfect if you like.

Liber: *thinks about it* Hmm... You know what, that sounds lovely! Any chance to spend more time with you would be a wonderful treat! I accept~

Ebele: *smiles again* Great! Then on that day, I hope to meet you at the festival. *gets up* I should get going, I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow. *curtsies*

Liber: Of course, of course! Until then milady. *tries to bow with the plates still in hand, a lil wobbly, but still pretty good*

Ebele: *chuckles and leaves*

[End of Support B]