#if my sister ever wanted to watch a movie with me she’d instantly regret it because she was sick of watching it lol

[gracieblood]

me when i answer my own question

[erodasfishtacos]

could u please do like a harry x youtuber/influencer!reader and like lots of fluff🥺

Hi bubbie! Here you go :)))

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Language

Harry was panicking. His mum and sister were going to be here in less than two hours and he’s burnt the eggplant parmigiana he had worked tediously on. 

He grabbed what he had left in his fridge - ground beef, shredded cheddar cheese, and a little bit of bacon. 

It was the type of foods he usually strayed away from so sometimes when his shopper would bring this stuff home - he’d avoid it and admittedly sometimes it would go bad sitting in the fridge.

The singer pulls up YouTube onto his phone - hoping something would come up when he typed in the ingredients on the search bar.

He clicks on the first video by cookingwithnofucks. A chuckle at the name as an advertisement plays.

A cute, bubbly girl appears on screen in a beautiful modern kitchen. She has a shirt on that says ‘fuck the patriarchy and eat pizza’. A high ponytail and minimal makeup.

“Okay - today we’re making a cheeseburger casserole,” the girl chirps, “It’s a heart attack in a dish but it’s so fucking good.”

Harry finds himself smiling as he crinkles his nose - it sounds absolutely disgusting but he’s intrigued more by the girl on the screen.

“Shit, I forgot to introduce myself. Hiii, if you’re new - I’m Y/N and I do cooking shit. Subscribe to my channel and all that jazz,” she titters while cutting open her beef package.

Harry follows along step-by-step, shaking his head as she doesn’t describe the instructions nearly well enough and is generally all over the place.

It’s a fucking cooking channel and at one point the meat starts burning. She just laughs and says, “s’just a little crispy!” 

The casserole turns out looking even better than Y/N’s to be honest. It’s done in just the right amount of time for him to shower before his family arrives.

He makes sure to subscribe to her channel - eyebrows raising when he sees that she has 16 million subscribers.

Harry wanted to spend longer, looking at her social media but there was a fixed time so he locked his phone and went to get ready.

**

Anne - always the sweetheart just tells Harry that the casserole is delicious even as a bit of grease runs down her fork from the fatty meats.

Gemma wasn’t as kind, grimacing at the casserole and remarking, “You truly are turning into an American, huh?”

**

Laying in bed that night, Harry swipes back onto YouTube. Going back to the page he just subscribed to - under a pseudonym. He clicks on another video.

“Uh, okay. So I’m cooking...fuck, it’s called unicorn bark. It looks like a magical animal puke but it looks delicious so we’re going to try it.”

Harry realizes he’s been watching this girl cook for nearly an hour. Different videos from desserts to dinners.

She curses like a sailor, fucks up almost every recipe, and makes a mess everywhere. But she’s smiling and talkative which makes him quite memorized by her.

**

“I hate editing,” Y/N groans, letting her head fall dramatically against the desktop. Her best friend and dog looked at her oddly.

“I keep saying you need to hire someone, you stubborn bitch,” Laney retorts, clicking through her Instagram feed.

“Fuck off,” she tells her friend with no real heat. The video was almost fully edited - how to make spicy as fuck jalapeño poppers.

There is a calm silence for a while until Laney gasps, “Holy shit.”

“What is it?” Y/N asks, not really caring as she clicks her mouse to trim a segment.

“Harry fucking Styles just followed you on Instagram and Twitter!” Laney shouts, her dog - Rufus popping his head up in confusion.

Y/N looks at her friend to see if she’s really serious and sees no signs of deception. “Oh my god,” Y/N replies. She loved Harry Styles in One Direction and as a solo artist - a fangirl if you will.

Y/N was a well-known influencer and has run in the circles of many celebrities. She’s even met Liam Payne but she’s never been able to bump into Harry.

Her alerts tell her it to be true, she swallows as she looks back up at Laney, “He dm’ed me.”

“Open it! What did he say?” She squeals, squeezing herself on the chair next to her, peering over her shoulder at the phone.

Y/N is a bit nervous, trying not to have a mini aneurysm as she opens the message thread.

HarryStyles: Hello. Just wanted to let you know that your cheeseburger casserole recipe saved my ass last night. Cheers x

“He’s totally coming onto you,” Her friend states instantly, bouncing excitedly - she also had a bit of a crush on the singer.

It takes the two of them a minute to cool their shit before Y/N manages a reply.

Y/N/LN: Well I guess it’s only fair. Your songs have made a few of my nights much better. I’m a bit of a slut for Fine Line.

Harry laughs behind his screen at the cheeky reply he gets back. He’s usually never this forward - especially on social media where he likes to fly under the radar.

HarryStyles: Well if you fancy my music that much, I totally love for you to come to a show. I’m performing in New York City in two weeks.

“This has to be a joke, right?” Y/N sputters to her friend, eyes wide at the invite to a concert she already had tickets to.

Y/N/LN: I’m not going to lie, I already have tickets to the show. However, I don’t have any backstage passes to meet the man of the hour. Do you know someone who can hook me up?

It does wonders for Harry’s narcissism to know that she already had tickets for his concert. Was he really going to do this? He hasn’t met up with some like this since his One Direction days.

He had to remind himself - she may just be friendly and take this as a totally casual interaction. Which would be normal, Harry really shouldn’t be so infatuated with someone he’s watched cook on social media.

HarryStyles: I think I can arrange that. Shoot me your number? I’ll have them sent digitally to you with instructions on how to get backstage.

Y/N is a bit dumbfounded at how fast they agreed to meet up. A harmless backstage tour - he could just be a fan of hers and totally not interested, right?

**

Over the next few weeks, they never really stop texting. Harry sends her pictures of the recipes he copies off her channel - that usually always look better than the original. He sends her clips of him goofing around during tour rehearsal. FaceTimes her when he’s finally home for the night.  

She sends him videos of her watching Harry Styles Best Moment Part Five. A few photos she snaps throughout the city of him on billboards and buildings, in Times Square. YN facetimes him when she’s frustrated with filming or watched a sad movie.

It didn’t make sense to either of them how seamlessly they’d clicked - especially without meeting. They were a perfect balance for each other. Harry - laidback, organized, level-headed. Y/N - eccentric, all over the place, adventurous. 

Jeff had told him that he’s been gaining media attention from his social media interactions with Y/N. They like each other’s photos, begin following each other’s friends, and comment goofy things on their posts.

“Listen, I have a great idea,” Y/N begins - which Harry learned is never good. “You should film a video with me sometime.”

Y/N knew she was going out on a limb and instantly regretted the questions she’d been building the courage to ask for days when it’s quiet on his end. There’s static for a moment and Y/N needs to fill the silence.

“It was - I was just, uh, I know you’re probably too busy. I was -“ She stutters, embarrassment flooding her.

Harry cuts her off, “I’d love to.”

“Yo-you would?” She asks timidly. Was she really going to have Harry Styles in her apartment? If so, should she take down her poster?

He laughs sweetly, “Why do you sound so surprised? I can’t wait to come to New York, love.”

Y/N giggles, “Not the fact that you’re performing in front of a sold out crowd at MSG? I don’t think seeing me will top that.”

“I’ve been looking forward to meetin’ you in person since I came across your channel. You so lovely,” Harry replies, his voice a little softer but more serious.

“I’m nervous,” Y/N admits, picking at a thread in her jeans.

“Me too,” Harry murmurs, despite not wanting to admit it - he wanted her to know this was new territory for both of them. He didn’t want her to think that this was something that he did often. But a little too prideful to admit it’s the first time he’s ever done something quite like this.

“What if you don’t like me?” Y/N whispers, she...well she didn’t compare to the models he’s been seen with before. She’s regretfully fell into the rabbit hole of looking up his past flings and relationships.

Harry barks out a disbelieving laugh, “You can’t be serious, darling. I’ve been gone for you since I saw you burn that ground beef.”

**

Harry was having a bad day - scratch that. An awful one. He tried to go get coffee at eight in the morning and got bombarded by fans, he left the shop without even ordering. They followed him back to his car and it took him fifteen minutes to pull out.

His favorite Mickey Mouse Gucci suitcase he was bringing along on tour had busted. The zipper unraveling and the trim falling off as a result. It was a one-of-a-kind.

Then he’d been stuck on a Skype meeting about tour merchandise with a group of business partners for the last three hours - all he wanted was a fucking nap.

When Y/N’s contact vibrated across his screen, he’s itching to answer but declines as he needs to give these people his attention.

When she calls again, Harry feels a prickle of annoyance. It’s not even at her - to be quite honest. It’s just the shitty day and everything’s piling up.

He always got like this before he kicked off a tour - stress level maxed out and his ability to handle minor incidents nearly shot.

I’m busy

Okay! Sorry, just have a super exciting surprise for you, bub! 

I really do not feeling like talking. I’d rather be left alone.

Oh, alright. Hope everything’s okay! Do you still want to facetime later?

Harry leaves her on read because he doesn’t want to slip up and take out his frustration on her. He’d been known to do that and he didn’t want her to think he was anything but besotted with her.

**

Y/N feels a little hesitant as she begins the uploading process to her channel. The red loading bar told her it’d be twenty-minutes before it’s going to be posted to her 16 million subscribers - one of them being Harry himself. 

Twenty-minutes for her to back out and cancel the upload. She starts having doubts about it when Harry never replies to her text which is unlike him. 

She takes Rufus out to avoid staring at the loading screen with unnecessary anxiety and uneasiness.

**

Harry is just getting home from a business dinner with the touring company’s management team. The tension and anxiety from today piling up on his shoulders and he just wants to call Y/N and crash in bed. 

He tosses his keys in the little bowl in the entry and kicks off his dingy white vans to the side. His phone dings with an alert from Gemma.

You two are the literal cutest ever. It’s quite gross.

Harry slides onto a stool in his kitchen, confused by the text message before she’s sending the link to him.

Fine Line Inspired Cupcakes!

Harry isn’t quite sure why his heart starts pounding furiously in his chest. A sinking feeling in his stomach when he realizes that this was probably the surprise she was excited about.

He clicks on the thumbnail.

“Hiiii, it’s Y/N. Okay, well today we are going to bake some Fine Line inspired cupcakes. And if you haven’t listened to the album - get your ass out from rock you’re living under and stream it on Spotify!”

She has her hair down in long, waves and a loose cropped shirt that says TPWK in rainbow embroidery.

Harrys mouth is dry and he can’t take his fucking eyes away from the screen. 

“Soo, I was thinking the first batch would be cherry flavored? ‘Cause he has a song titled ‘Cherry’. Let’s start there. First - I need to find my measuring cups.”

In true Y/N fashion, she scours her kitchen - cussing and yanking stuff out of her neatly organized cabinets before huffing and storming off to the side.

She comes back into view, a little frazzled but smiling when she holds up the ring of plastic measuring spoons, visible bite marks notched into the material.

“My asshole of a dog had a little snack,” Y/N shows the camera before shrugging, “Let’s get this shit started. Okay, you’re going to need one cup of sugar - no wait, two? I can’t read my fucking handwriting.”

Harry’s absolutely enamored by this scatter-brained, giggly girl who manages to produce cute blue and pink cupcakes that very vaguely resembled his album cover. His heart felt a million times too big for his chest.

He was enraptured for the entirety of the thirty minute video without taking his eyes away once.

To be honest, he hadn’t felt this way since his last relationship which was over a year ago at this point.

It’s not even a thought as he’s requesting a FaceTime with Y/N. 

She answers after a few rings. She has a green face mask painted on her nose, chin, and forehead with gold eye masks under each eye. She is so fucking ridiculous it’s not even funny. 

What is even more ridiculous is how gone Harry is realizing he is for her. She was quirky, unfiltered, carefree. If he was honest - he hadn’t met a girl like that in a very long time - especially a well-known influencer.

“Hi! How was your day, grumpy?” Y/N asks brightly, making a goofy face as the mask begins to tighten and crack on her skin. Not holding the earlier conversation against him and deciding to just move forward. She understood how stressful it can be.

“M’sorry. I was a bit grumpy,” He admits, “I loved your new video, darling. Did you make those just f’me?”

He can tell she’d be blushing if her face wasn’t covered, a bit bashful as she mutters, “You already know I did it for you.”

“You’re too sweet to me, only six days until we meet,” Harry replies, voice taking on a slow, lazy drawl. 

“Six days,” Y/N repeats, eyes crinkling as she smiles with excitement.

**

“Is this outfit too much?” Y/N panics. Even though there’s literally nothing she can do about it - they’re already walking towards the backstage entrance of the massive arena. It’s still about two hours until the show starts but Harry requested her to come earlier.

Laney sighs, “For the millionth time, you look fucking sexy and Harry’s going to want to rail you right when he sees you.”

Y/N shoves her lightly with a faux annoyance as they meet up with a burly man who’s blocking the entrance to the backstage hallway and rooms.

She gives him their names and pulls up the passes on her phone before he’s nodding with any expression and letting them pass.

They’re not quite sure where to go from here so they begin to wander down the long hallway toward what looks to be the main area that people are milling about.

Y/N is nearly on the ground when someone rounds the corner without looking and walks right into her. Both of them let out huffs of air as they collide and attempt to stabilize themselves.

But there are large hands grasping her arms and holding her steady. In typical Y/N fashion she’s already cursing, “fuckin like a brick wall, look out next time.”

Then she’s looking up to Harry staring back down at her with an amused expression. He doesn’t let go of her and instead tugs her against his bare chest. He’s warm and a bit sweaty - like he’d just worked out. He was only in a pair of thin, running shorts, nike tennis shoes, and a little clip holding his hair off of his face.

Y/N can’t help but wrap her arms around his waist, returning the embrace and amazed by how right it feels to be in his arms. Her face tucks right against his collarbone and it’s like they’d known each other for years.

Pictures and videos don’t do this man justice. He’s gorgeous - sharp edges and dark inked skin. Tall and muscular but dimples that are carved in his cheeks. 

“Nice to meet you, m’Harry,” Harry rumbles, removing one hand from Y/N’s shoulder to reach out his hand to her friend.

Laney shakes his hand before asking, “Laney. I’ll leave you two lovebirds be. Where’s the food?”

Harry chuckles against Y/N’s wavy hair, “Down the hall to the left.”

Laney’s trailing off without another glance, she was very food motivated despite her skinny frame. Also not wanting to intrude of the very personal first moments of their meeting.

The popstar pulls back to look down at the girl he’s fallen for in mere weeks. She’s as beautiful as he thought she'd be - if not more. He can’t help himself, “Would it be too forward to kiss you?”

Y/N smiles widely, running a hand along his jawline, “I’ve wanted you to kiss me since you stayed up on FaceTime with me until two in the morning as I cried after watching The Notebook - despite me seeing it a million times.”

Harry ducks forward to press his lips softly to her, large hands come to cup the side of her face as they connect. He’s so gentle as he moves his mouth against hers. In true Y/N fashion, she’s bold and has no hesitation slipping her tongue into his mouth.

He’s so fucking in love with her. It doesn’t make much sense - it’s definitely not logical but he’s realizing that’s okay.

“Oii, get a room!” Someone shouts from down the hallway teasingly.

Harry flips them the middle finger and pulls back, pink lips swollen and puffy, dimples on full display, “Let me take you out to dinner after the show, darling.”

“You going to wine and dine me, Styles?” Y/N giggles, unable to contain the pleasant warmness he’s spreading through her body. 

“Mmm, have t’make sure you’ll want to keep me,” Harry murmurs happily against her lips once again, pressing kiss after kiss to her to make sure she’s real, “Definitely want to keep you.”

Y/N bites teasingly at his bottom lip, hand planted on the soft but firm skin of his stomach, “You’re never getting rid of me, hope you know that.”

“Was hoping you’d say that, now let me introduce you to my band.”

                                  -- ---- ---- -- 1 year later - -- --- --- --

“Hi bitches! Today is a super special day. We have the one, the only Harry Styles filming with us. I know that’s not really that special since he’s on here all the time with me. But we’re celebrating our one year anniversary!” Y/N smiles, bumping hips with Harry who stands dutifully next to her. 

Anyone viewing can see the absolute heart-eyes and adoration he has for the girl standing next to him. He’s still as lovestruck and gone for her as he was the first time they met. Harry’s fans were thrilled - for the first time in years, he’d opened up again.

They weren’t very public on social media beside’s tagging each other in memes and posting the occasional picture. Y/N was constantly uploading cooking videos from wherever in the world she was with Harry on his tour, she’d also begin making vlogs about different foods she’s been experiencing.

---

“Okay, so here in Peru - they’re known to have this really fucking spicy beef with noddles. So obviously, I’m going to make Harry try it first,” Y/N laughs as she props the camera up on the side of the table on a napkin holder.

Harry - who has a concert in a few hours - frowns at the steaming dish in front of him, “Darling, I don’t want to try it first. It’s going to burn my mouth. Not gonna be able to sing.”

“You’re sucha baby sometimes,” Y/N rolls her eyes, slurping up the noodles with her fork while making a silly face at her boyfriend. She pulls back, straight-faced, “It’s not hot at all. Tastes amazing, though.”

Harry takes that as an initiative to shovel a spoonful into his mouth. It only takes half a moment until his taste buds erupt in fiery flames from the spices, “You bloody little brat, y’tricked me! It’s so fuckin’ hot!”

Y/N smiles widely, laughing much too loudly in the restaurant when Harry chugs the glass of water next to the plate while glaring at his love. “I’m sorry, s’just to easy with you, lovie,” She replies, leaning over the table to press a kiss to his lips. 

He’s a sucker for her and kisses her right back despite his mouth being an inferno. His heart was on fire for her and that burned much more intensely.

---

“No, love. The instructions say baking soda, not baking powder. They’re not the same thing,” Harry sighs, attempting to read her scribbled, sloppy handwriting. She’d already spilled milk on half of the paper.

“S’interchangeable, right?” Y/N hums, cracking an egg into the bowl and Harry automatically knows to look to fish out the eggshells that’d she’d let slip in because she sucks at cracking eggs but always wants to do it.

Harry reaches over her, grabbing the vanilla extract and a teaspoon, “It’s not, baby. Lemme do this real quick.”

“Will you make me a grilled cheese after this?” She asks, nuzzling into his side and wrapping her arms around his waist as he finishes adding the wet ingredients to their bowl. Harry stopped questioning her thought process a long time ago.

Harry swipes his finger into the mixture of icing off to the side and rubs it right onto her nose, cackling at her pout and squeaking when she pinches at the fleshy skin of his hips. She in turn dips her finger into the sugary cream and pops it right into her mouth.

Harry eyes darken, watching her lips purse as she sucks off the icing. It was a dirty move on Y/N’s part and she knows it. It has her boyfriend dragging an icing-covered thumb along her collarbone before leaning down to slowly lick up the sugary trail with his tongue.

When Y/N slides her fingers into his hair and lets out a pretty moan, Harry’s standing back up, trailing over to the tripod and saying into the camera, “We’ll be back after a little commercial break,” and is then turning off the record button.

It takes little to no time for Harry to have Y/N’s bum on the countertop, mouth on her neck, and hand in-between her thighs.

And when they finally posted a very edited final cut of the video - well there may be a couple of fans who notice the how flushed Y/N is halfway through and a lovely purple mark on Harry’s neck that wasn’t there in the beginning of the video.

[kittyanonymity]

Marinette is the daughter of Wonder Woman X Superman

Hey have this!!!! I was inspired by @eve-valution and their wonderful art!

Also like.... It’s really just an excuse for Mari to be ridiculously overpowered tbh; plus.... the aesthetic of this tiny adorable girl accidentally breaking things all the time, and getting super flustered over it. >.> It’s cute, ok? lol

Honestly, my original plan for this was Daminette, and this version is; but I might also make some adjustments for a Timinette version (I love them, they’re adorkable together ok)? I haven’t decided yet. ALSO this is just a basic outline; not the fic itself. I haven’t started the fic yet. Feel free to ask things though!! ALSO THIS AU IS CLASS FRIENDLY!!! 

~ DAMINETTE VERSION~

So in the latest DC animated movies, they’ve been pushing Diana/Clark pretty heavily while implying that despite Clark’s attraction to Diana, he’s still in love with Lois; this is seen pretty obviously when Diana and Clark go on a date, and Lois shows up. Clark immediately puts space between him and Diana and honestly, it’s a little telling. (this is all in stark contrast to the Justice League cartoon from the 90’s/early 2000’s, where Diana and Bruce ((Wonder Woman and Batman)) were shipped pretty heavily) Talk about baby’s first OTP, am I right? XD

ANYWAY THE POINT IS THIS.

Lois and Clark are together, like they’re getting married. (somewhere in the world, Damian is turning one; this is relevant later.) One night, Superman has a ‘moment of weakness’, and him and Wonder woman bang. BOOM! Pregnant.

Diana is rightfully upset, as Clark immediately tells her this was a mistake, they never should’ve done that. He goes back to Lois, and they don’t speak outside of the Watchtower anymore. Diana does not tell him when she finds out she’s pregnant. She goes to Bruce, tells him she’ll be out of commission for up to 3 years.

Bruce is rightfully concerned, but Diana doesn’t tell him what’s wrong. He assures her she can leave; they’ll keep it together out here while she rests in Themyscira. She feels bad for not telling him, but resolves to do it later. Home she goes, to see her mom and the rest of the Amazons!

Her mother is disgusted by Clark’s conduct, but Diana has always wanted to have a child. They know it will be a daughter: it always is, Hippolyta says conspiratorially. The pregnancy is interesting, and many of the Amazons are startled at how quickly their princess can finish her projects. Hippolyta watches on in concern; her daughter has become startlingly creative during these months, and as a previous Ladybug that can mean only one thing.

Tikki will be back in the family soon.

Hippolyta says nothing about this to Diana, not wanting to alarm her daughter.

When Marinette is born with dark hair, and blue eyes there is no surprise. Diana stares at her daughter as if she is the most beautiful thing to have ever existed, and to her, she is. Marinette spends 3 years on Themyscira, learning from her mother, grandmother, and all of her many sisters. She’s an excitable child, with a penchant for marking walls with whatever she can draw. She grasps language easily, and much quicker than anyone would think possible.

But Diana has a duty. She must return to the outside world to assist the league. She thinks of the outside world, how it has taught her, hurt her, but ultimately made her stronger; and she knows that she wants Marinette to have all of that and more. So she contacts an old friend in Paris.

Sabine had left Themyscira many years prior, once Diana had cleared the way for the other Amazons to venture out. She’d fallen in love with a baker, and though the 2 couldn’t have children of their own, they were excellent people. People Diana knew she could entrust Marinette with. Sabine agreed after they discussed it extensively.

Diana would come see Marinette regularly once she was 10, giving the girl some years to mature, and come to terms with her mother’s identity. Diana assured Sabine she’d send any and all support requested, along with letters and gifts for Marinette as she grew. Diana hated to leave her daughter, but seeing as she would constantly be in danger once again, she couldn’t bear to put Marinette through that. Diana tells Sabine who Marinette’s father is, so they can be ready.

Sabine threatens to cut his dick off, which Diana laughs at. Diana and Marinette live with Sabine and Tom for a year, letting Marinette get to know and love them; and then Diana tells Marinette she has to go, the world needs her.

And Marinette just nods, giving her mother a smile.

“I know mommy.”

Good byes and I love you’s are exchanged, and after many tears, Diana finally manages to tear herself away, and she leaves. There is a hole in her heart the size of the Earth, but Diana has a job to do.

This is the world where Marinette lives now too, and she must do all she can to keep her daughter’s world safe.

Clark and Lois get married while Diana is away, and Jonathan is born; he’s only a year younger than Marinette, and 2 years younger than Damian like in canon. Clark is curious as to where Diana disappeared to, asking around, but the only one who knows is Bruce. And when Clark asks, Bruce simply shrugs.

“She told me she’d be gone for a few years. I didn’t press her for details. Everyone needs a break, Superman.”

Clark didn’t like it; he was worried. For her to disappear so abruptly… Surely she hadn’t truly loved him? Clark hates himself as he thinks about it, regret permeating him. He does his best to not think about it.

At least until Diana shows back up, 4 years later, and a little more jaded than she used to be. Bruce welcomes her back with a small smile, and a nod. Diana doesn’t even look at Clark.

And for Clark, it’s enough to just know that she’s safe. He doesn’t blame her for hating him; he kinda hates him too.

Literally none of the League know about Marinette; Diana doesn’t tell fucking anyone.

Miraculous canon happens as normal, only difference is that Lila is fucking gone after the Volpina incident. She’s gone after that, no return, nothing. I hate that girl, and honestly, I just wanna write something where Marinette’s friends love her, without the class drama. I can’t forgive the Miraculous writers for doing that to the students. Chat is still pretty pushy in his pursuit of Ladybug, but not in an exaggerated way. However, it does still cause some eventual complications that he needs to learn and grow from. Minimum bashing should be involved, and it will be centered around pointing out the toxic things he does, and him correcting those behaviors. Adrien is my boi and I love him.

ANYWAY.

When Marinette is 10, Diana shows up to see her. Marinette has known that Sabine wasn’t her real mother; Mari still calls Sabine Maman though cause like… the woman raised her, duh. Marinette loves Diana, even though she doesn’t remember what her mother looks like. Diana always remembers her birthday, and all of the holidays; Marinette has saved every letter, and gift her mother has ever sent her. She doesn’t realize her mother is Wonder Woman yet. Well, at least until she shows up on her 10th birthday. Marinette recognizes her as the heroine instantly, but says nothing; she’s seen movies, she knows secret identities are important!

Over the years, Sabine has kept Diana informed on the progression of Marinette’s… abilities. Look, the girl is a split between the Amazonian princess, and a Kryptonian. God only knows what she’ll be able to do. So far, Marinette has displayed signs of super strength and speed, and most recently flight; she’s got the enhanced senses as well, and she carries ear plugs with her when they go out. Diana is happy to know though, that Marinette has a strong sense of right and wrong. She owes Sabine a great debt of gratitude, and knows she’ll never be able to thank the woman enough for raising their (because yeah, Marinette is theirs now) daughter.

(Marinette goes to school, excited to tell everyone about her 2 mommies and her daddy. Despite Diana not being romantically involved with them…. Yet???? Maybe????? HMMMM)

After Marinette turns 10, Diana makes a point to visit every spring for her daughter’s birthday, and to check in on things. The day of Marinette’s 14th birthday, Diana steps off of the plane, and on her way to the Dupain-Cheng bakery, she witnesses her first akuma. Preparing to step in, Diana freezes when Ladybug and Chat Noir appear on the scene.

Diana recognizes Marinette on sight, and the spots are familiar. She remembers her mother, the stories of Tikki, and the adventures they had, the evils they stopped. She remembers how anxious her mother was during her pregnancy, when Diana could not stop drawing, writing, whatever she could be doing.

Marinette is a pure soul of creation, born of Tikki’s essence, and she is Diana’s daughter, an Amazon, and half kryptonian.

Diana watches her daughter fight, hands clenched at her sides. The Amazon in her demanding she see this through, watch her daughter be the fierce warrior she is meant to be; the mother in her is clawing at her throat, preventing her from speaking with the force of her panic.

And Marinette is an excellent fighter. Diana recognizes many of the moves she used to practice while they were still on the island, and they’ve been refined, polished, and put on display to show the world. It had to be Sabine’s handiwork, teaching her this. Did Sabine know she was Ladybug? No, she would’ve told Diana first thing.

Diana does not intervene, watching Ladybug win, and undo the damage.

Once the akuma is dealt with, Diana follows her daughter as she swings away and finds a quiet place to de-transform.

“My little light, you have exactly 2 minutes to tell me what is going on.”

Marinette jumps a mile, whipping around to see her mother, and then Tikki is smiling, hugging Diana’s cheek.

“Diana! It’s been too long!” Diana gives the kwami a smile.

“Hello, Tikki, mother misses you.”

Marinette is dumbfounded.

Diana explains everything, about how she knows, and why; tells her about Hippolyta, and her connection to the Miraculous. It was the most exciting and stressful birthday yet.

Diana starts making more regular trips to Paris to assist her daughter when she needs the extra help; since Diana is generally fairly good at keeping her emotions in check, it works out. Marinette works extra hard to make sure she keeps her extra abilities in check.

She uses her powers in small subtle ways; using her flight to get a better distance out of a yo-yo swing, but doing it in a way where it’s unnoticeable to the standard eye. Or using her x ray vision to avoid people she doesn’t want to see. She lets herself be clumsy, and careless with her movements in her daily life, making sure none of her friends can ever make the connection between her and Ladybug later on; before Ladybug, she’s clumsy so she doesn’t draw attention to her powers. The only one who knows she has powers is Nino.

It’s hard to explain to your childhood friend why you’re flying after all; he had been there the first time she’d accidentally used this new power. OOPS

All abilities/side effects Mari has:

-Super strength

-super senses (hearing, sight, smell, etc ((is taste usually included in this???? hm)))

-Enhanced vision (x-ray, thermal)

-Flight

-Super speed (bout as fast as Superman if she tries hard enough)

-Ladybug luck

-Martial arts/various fighting styles

-Amazon swordfighting & archery

Side effects:

-Sluggish in Winter thanks to Ladybug things; will hibernate if she gets too cold

-Has bursts of creative energy that keep her up far longer than she should be; usually crashes afterwards; these will stop as she gets older, and gets a better handle on her Ladybug powers.

-Gets sick easily during the cold months

-Kryptonite hurts her, obviously; she gets a wicked migraine, and nausea; usually her vision gets bad too.

Marinette’s personality doesn’t change all that much, really. She’s still undeniably kind, and selfless, always going out of the way for her friends. She’s a bit more vocal about her sense of justice, not putting up with bullies. Chloe gets her redemption a bit early because of this. Marinette is also not afraid to just absolutely throw down and brawl if you’re being a violent asshole. Like, damn. She is tiny, but she will miss you up.

ANYWHO.

With Diana making frequent trips to Paris, it catches Bruce’s eye, and he of course gets suspicious. The French government has been keeping the situation with the Akumas under wraps for about 3 years now, no news escaping the country. Marinette is currently 16, Diana has been helping her deal with hard to handle akumas for 2 years; Damian is 17, and Jon is 15.

So when Bruce looks into Diana’s activity in Paris, he’s startled to find little to nothing about Wonder Woman. An article briefly mentions something called an ‘akuma’ but then there’s no further mention. Instead he finds records of Diana Prince shacking up with a married couple and their daughter.

When Bruce finds a picture of Diana standing with the Dupain-Chengs, his breath leaves him. She is staring at the girl in the picture with such a proud adoring gaze, and he would have to be blind to miss the resemblance. The girl’s age lines up with when Diana left, and Bruce remembers how unusually concerned Clark had been about her location.

He’s the world’s greatest detective, and the pieces are too easy to put together.

SO Bruce Wayne does what Bruce Wayne always does.

Finds a way to get information.

He invites Francois-Dupont to his yearly student seminar, meant to help students get a jump start on their careers. They must prove why they deserve to attend, like all the schools invited, in the form of an essay, accompanied by a video of their school.

Mlle. Bustier’s class is selected as the class to make the video representing the school; Marinette and Alya volunteer to head the project with audio assistance from Nino, while Adrien offers to help with the budget. The class comes together to offer some kind of assistance or another, even Chloe, who goes out of her way to help the class plan. Marinette writes the basic video out, how it should look, what it should say.

But they need a narrator.

The class unanimously votes for Marinette.

“You know us better than anyone, Nette. It’s gotta be you.”

“Everyone knows you here, Mari; you’re the sweetest girl in the school.”

“A WELCOME VIDEO!”

It’s Alya who shouts it, grinning at the class.

“It’ll be a welcome video with Marinette showing a ‘new kid’ around!”

Marinette’s gotta admit, it’s genius; the class agrees, and planning begins in earnest now that they have a better idea for it.

All of their carefully laid plans fall to pieces when their high end camera breaks the day they need to film. Everyone is shouting, stress is high, and Rose is crying. Marinette knows she needs to do something before an akuma shows up, but then she hears a yelp, and she looks over to see a first year stumble back as Kim knocks into her. Marinette’s there in an instant, steadying the girl on her feet, and giving her a smile.

“Are you ok?”

She’s unaware of Adrien watching her with a fond smile, while he elbows Alya; Alya stops yelling at Chloe long enough to look over, and quickly take her phone out, and press record. The classes attention immediately shifts, the tension all but disappearing.

The first year nods hesitantly.

“Y-yes I’m ok. It’s just my first day here, a-and I’m…” The dark haired girl bit her lip, looking at the floor, “I’m really scared.” Marinette frowned for a moment before she smiled, and took the girls’ hand.

“I’m Marinette, what’s your name?” The girl sniffled, rubbing at her eyes.

“My name’s Bridgette.” Marinette nodded, her smile growing.

“It’s nice to meet you. Sorry about my friend Kim over there. He gets a little excitable sometimes.” Bridgette offered her a smile.

“It’s ok. It looked interesting so I wanted to get closer, but I wasn’t paying much attention.” Her eyes fell, and she looked off to the side, but Marinette gripped her hand gently, causing her to look up.

“I can show you around the school if you like. Everyone here is really nice, I promise. We look after each other the best we can, and you can always ask one of us for help.” Marinette gestures to her classmates, who offer Bridgette encouraging smiles. It’d been awhile since they’d seen Marinette work her particular brand of magic. Bridgette’s smile grew, and she finally nodded.

“I’d really appreciate that, Marinette thank you.” Marinette simply waved her off.

“It’s fine! We’ll make it fun!” She turned to her class, missing Alya hiding behind Adrien, still recording.

“I’ll be back in a bit guys. Come find me when you get the camera replaced.”

The camera panned around Adrien’s back as Marinette turned away, and began leading Bridgette further into the school. Alya hurried to catch up, the class following shortly after.

Marinette showed the young girl all around the building, from her homeroom class, and to each individual classroom so the girl would never be lost. And she talked to her, learning that Bridgette had just recently moved there from Italy, escaping her old school and the torment she’d endured there. It burned Marinette to know that someone had been so cruel to such a sweet girl, but Bridgette assured her it was fine since she wasn’t there anymore. Marinette in turn, assured her that no one at Dupont would ever treat her so cruelly. And if anyone did happen to do so, she should come find her immediately.

Bridgette laughed, flushing pink.

“Thanks, Mari!” Bridgette’s gaze grew wistful, “It’s been awhile since I’ve laughed with a friend.”

And Marinette was resplendent in her joy, pulling the girl into a gentle hug.

“We’ll look out for you, Bridgette. You can count on us.” The girl returned the embrace, nodding. After a moment, the two girls pulled back, and Bridgette smiled.

“Thanks for caring, Mari.” Marinette shrugged, giving her a smile.

“You’re worth it, Bridgette, remember that.” She nodded her head towards a classroom, “But you should probably get to class now. I think you’re really late. I’ll have a talk with Mr. Beaumont about why right after my class and I finish this project, ok? Just tell him Marinette will explain, and he should understand.” Bridgette nodded, thanking her again, before kissing her cheek, and heading to her classroom. Marinette watched her go with a smile, and sighed, before turning to head back to her class.

Only to promptly freeze at the sight of them behind her, grinning in glee, Alya at the front, phone held high.

Marinette flushed bright red.

“Guys, what’re you doing?” Alya clicked end on the recording and grinned at her best friend.

“Getting our video of course!”

Marinette was certain she was going to die. Or combust on the spot. God, what if she actually did though, and it was just another damn power to worry about???

Needless to say, she’s embarrassed. But once the class reviews the video, they find it to be perfect. They were able to stay close enough to hear Bridgette’s and Marinette’s conversation, and hear Marinette explaining things to her. Nino took the audio and boosted it in certain parts, and making sure to edit out any personal information the girls discussed during the tour.

The video coupled with the 15 page essay Marinette submits secures their spot in the seminar.

Meanwhile, when Diana hears Marinette gushing about their school being invited to the annual Wayne Seminar, she is immediately suspicious. She finds Bruce within the day, appearing in the Batcave with no preamble; Bruce is waiting for her.

He offers her a drink. And Diana sighs, because he definitely already knows; so she accepts his drink, and they sit.

And they talk.

He asks why she didn’t tell him, he would’ve helped her. And Diana laughs, and it’s surprisingly good natured.

“Bruce, you would’ve killed him back then. Don’t think I don’t know how much you two hated each other back then.” She sighed, “You idiots were finally about to be friends, and if I’d told you what he’d said, what we’d done…” She snorted, “I was quite sure you would’ve killed him.” Bruce didn’t deny her accusations, nor did he accept them.

“What’s she like?” And Bruce watched Diana’s whole body relax, a small smile on her face as she swirled the liquor in her glass.

“She is the best thing that has ever existed for me in this world. She’s my little light, and I will see that this world is safe for her.” Bruce thought of his sons, his daughters, and he nodded.

“And her powers?” Diana’s grin grew broad, and she raised her fist.

“She is strong, Bruce. The strongest.” Again, Bruce nodded, having a drink from his glass as Diana stared him down, “If you hurt her while she is in your care, Bruce, we will have problems. You know this?” Bruce sat his glass down, reaching for the bottle to refill his cup.

“I know, Diana. My intentions are purely curious, I promise you.” He smiled, a small upturn of his lips, “She was the star of their video, you know.”

He shows her the video the class submitted, edited to include the class singing the praises of their class president as an intro, before it cut to some footage taken on a cell phone. It followed Marinette around as she guided a younger student around the school, offering advice, and going out of her way to help the girl. The footage ended with the girl’s blushing face before it cut to an outro featuring the Journalist of the class, Alya Cesaire. Alya had said that since Marinette was writing the essay, she knew her friend wouldn’t include her own good deeds, and since Alya was in charge of the video, she’d take care of it here.

And Diana watched her daughter’s best friend proudly declare Marinette’s achievements, and her aspirations; the good she’d done, and the bad she’d prevented, or outright ended.

Bruce pretended not to notice Diana’s tears.

OOF I DID NOT MEAN TO WRITE THAT MUCH OF THAT WOW

Ok so anyway, trip to Gotham gets secured cause of all that. Master Fu will send Kaalki with Marinette as an assured countermeasure against akumas, and Diana promises she will stay in Paris while Marinette is in Gotham. This assures Marinette that between her mom, Viperion, and Ryuuko they could hold their own until she could get there.

To Gotham! YAY!

They land mid afternoon, check into the hotel, and fucking sleep. That’s it.

Next day, they have a guided tour of the Gotham Natural History museum, which is super dope, and everyone is excited; except for Chloe, because even redeemed she’s kind of a brat. I love her. Marinette meets Tim first in this one. Tim is at the Museum because as CEO of Wayne Enterprises he is donating something to the museum. They bump into each other, and she knocks him down.

Tim is kind of stunned cause this tiny pixie like girl just knocked right into him and didn’t even budge, holy shit. And Marinette is stumbling over her words as she apologizes, and helps Tim up, and wow, that is one hell of a grip for someone that size, what the fUCK. Tim is properly dismayed, but waves off her concern good naturedly, saying he shouldn’t have been standing in the middle of the hallway like an idiot; Marinette flushes brighter, insisting she should’ve been paying more attention.

And then Jason shows up, cause like damn Tim, what the hell is taking you so long?

Looks at Marinette.

Hey isn’t she a bit young for you, Drake?

(in another timeline this would probably be a fun Timinette AU, I won’t lie. hmmmmmmm…..)

Tim rolls his eyes at Jason’s antics, offering Marinette a grimace.

‘Sorry about him, he’s deplorable. Again I’m sorry for running into you’

Marinette laughs it off, shaking her head

‘I’m so sorry for knocking you down. I’ll make sure to pay more attention.’

Tim and Jason leave, Jason offering her a wide grin and a little wave; Marinette just shakes her head in amusement, and catches up with the class.

MEANWHILE, SOMEWHERE ELSE IN THE MUSEUM

Damian and Jon are hanging out; Jon has decided to come and pester him since his school, Metropolis Prep, is also invited to the seminar, and Damian likes his friend, he really does, but *god* he is suffering right now. Jon is making comments left and right, and Damian is about to lose it.

‘Ooh, am I making you mad, Wayne?’

Damian glares at his friend.

‘Stop talking. My head is killing me, and I am *this* close to killing *you*.’

Jon just laughs, and Damian rolls his eyes.

After awhile of wandering around, looking at things, they go get some lunch in the cafeteria. There’s a large group of French students taking up one of the tables, one dark haired girl standing while the others are sitting; there’s a map and a notebook spread out in front of her. Damian watches as she smiles at her classmates, writing things in the notebook, while marking things on the map.

‘Oh, that’s cool!’

Damian looks at Jon, ‘What?’ Jon grins.

‘They’re planning on what they want to see while in Gotham.’

‘How do you know?’ Jon rolls his eyes as they get some food.

‘Damian. I have super powers, idiot.’ Damian snorts.

‘Doesn’t explain your incompetence though.’

Both boys miss the wide eyed stare Marinette is giving Jon from her table.

She hadn’t MEANT to hear him, but when you can hear pretty much everything, eavesdropping is inevitable; doesn’t mean she has to like it though.

Also, wow that boy looks so much like her?? How weird.

She and the class finish planning other places they’d like to go, while Marinette turns the list of locations into Miss Bustier for her to review. They had a basic schedule set up, but their teacher had allowed them to see Gotham for what it was before finalizing things.

After lunch, their tour resumes, and Jon and Damian find themselves along the same path as Marinette’s class. They’ve moved past some of the older cultural items, and are entering the room of heroes and villains. Wax replicas of Batman, all of the Robins’, Black Bat, Batgirl, and various big name villains line the walls. Damian was on edge the entire time, not quite listening to Jon’s rambling.

And well OF COURSE something goes wrong, because you can’t have the Dupont kids go anywhere with no problems.

Two Face steps down from where his figure used to be, unloading his gun into the ceiling. He thinks he’ll have an easy time taking this French class hostage.

He is not prepared for these kids.

Alix and Kim tag team a couple of his henchmen with support from Max who has outfitted Markov with some new tech as well. Juleka (who has been tapped for the Lion Miraculous before) and Rose (who’s used the Mouse) take one down, while Ivan smashes two more henchmen together, shielding Mylene. Alya takes the knees out another one while Nino comes across his jaw with a hard left cross. Nathaniel is in front of Sabrina, shielding her when Chloe comes down hard on the henchman in front of them.

Adrien and Marinette go for Two Face, each of them a bit surprised at how the other moved.

And Damian is shocked stupid, watching this French class absolutely decimate one of Gotham’s finest rogues.

Meanwhile Jon is stuck staring at the duo. Between looking at the cute blonde boy, or the dark haired girl who is *WAY* stronger than she looks; especially if she can throw Two Face around one handed, damn.

And Marinette is more concerned with keeping her friends safe than hiding her abilities, and she probably moves too fast, and uses too much strength; her classmates buy her excuse of her extra martial arts classes outside of class.

Damian however does not.

And then the police show up, shocked to find this group of criminals subdued by a group of foreign teenagers.

The second Damian is out of the museum, losing Jon for a moment in the chaos, he calls his father.

“Why didn’t you tell me there was a meta among that French class you invited?”

Damian can practically his father shrug.

“It’s not my business to tell, Damian. Just talk to her.”

He growled as his father ended the call; the man knew something, he knew it.

And thus begins the chronicles of Damian trying to figure out WTH is going on with Marinette; which leads to friendship. Damnit.

This is where the typical getting to know you Daminette stuff will happen.. Including dates, and identity reveals.

The biggest conflict of this is honestly dealing with Superman when he finds out. Marinette has known who her father was since she was 10 years old, when she learned her mother’s identity; but Diana didn’t officially tell her until her 14th birthday, after the akuma incident.

“No more secrets, little light; I will tell you everything.” Diana had said; and she had.

Marinette is glad to have Tom, because wow her real father sounds like a dickhead.

When she officially meets Jon (Damian introduces them), she immediately realizes ‘well fuck, I have a little brother???? And he’s best friends with the boy I have a crush on, shit.’

Anyway, Superman finds out Diana had a daughter, their daughter, after the trip to Gotham concludes, and he immediately heads for Paris as Superman. He finds Diana as Wonder Woman talking to a young girl in Red with black spots, but Superman is set on speaking to Diana as he lands, and starts striding up to her.

“We need to talk.” Diana stares at him dispassionately as he walks up.

“I have nothing to say to you. Leave.”

Clark reaches out for Diana’s hand, only to have his wrist grabbed by the girl in red; who is glaring up at him fiercely. Wow her grip is tight…

“If you touch my mother, I will decimate you.”

And Clark is reeling, because holy shit, this is his daughter; his and Diana’s blood. And Clark just looks at Diana, conflicted.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Diana?” Diana shrugged.

“Telling you would not have changed the outcome. I have always wanted a child, and she is everything I need of this world. Why would I tell you?”

“Because she’s my blood too! She’s kryptonian!” And the girl growls, and then she is hovering in front of his face, blocking his view of Diana. Her eyes are a blazing blue behind her mask, and Clark realizes: she can fly.

“I may share your blood, Superman, but I am not Kryptonian; I am an Amazon. I am Ladybug. And I will not listen to you berate my mother for her choices. She told you to leave, and I can assure you, I won’t be as nice when I demand your absence.”

And Clark is just. Stunned. Because yeah, that was definitely an Amazonian level threat she just gave him; but he’s Superman, and yeah, she’s his daughter, but how strong could she be? Should he push the matter?

Clark watches as other heroes slowly appear behind the girl; One clad in orange, one in green; A fox and turtle respectively. Then there’s the one in black, green eyes narrowed at him; a feral cat, it looks like. Then there’s the one in yellow and rusty orange, a snarl marring her lips; a Bee?? Or a Hornet?? The final two are teal and red, a boy and a girl; a snake, and a… dragon?

What has his daughter been up to in Paris?

Grief swells within him, and he sighs.

“Ok, I’ll-”

Ladybug screams.

“Hello Superman, I am Hawkmoth.”

And that’ll be the final fight of this fic I think! They’ll beat akumatized Superman (batfam Zetas in to help, and so does Jon and Connor), and then Clark leads them to Hawkmoth’s base, and Gabriel is dealt with, along with Nathalie. Marinette and Adrien will both do university in America, with Adrien learning under Bruce about business along with Damian (the 2 become surprisingly good friends after a point), and Marinette accepted Audrey’s internship while she goes to school in New York. She frequently pops over to the manor to see the Batfam.

I’m gonna work on the Timinette version of this next; that ship is so adorkable and I *LOVE* it

There may also end up being a Jasonette version?? I haven’t decided yet tbh

[whumphoarder]

Beanimia

Summary: While Peter is visiting Tony and Morgan at the lake house for a long weekend, the six-year-old manages to accidentally break his nose. Unfortunately, Spider-Man's super-healing decides to go on holiday the same weekend that he does.

Word count: 3,877

Genre: Fluffy illness/injury, whump, hurt/comfort, humor

A/N: Thanks to @xxx-cat-xxx and @sallyidss for beta-reading and to @awesomesockes for plot, summary, and title ideas <3

Link to read on Ao3

“So”—Tony snaps the single use ice pack to activate the chemicals and gives it a few shakes as he moves back over to the kitchen table—“which one of you is going to explain what happened here?”

Morgan shakes her head gravely side to side. “Peter didn’t catch the beans...”

“Well, to be fair,” Peter points out, his voice significantly more nasally than usual due to the wad of paper towels he’s pressing to his heavily bleeding nose, “you didn’t really warn me you were about to chuck a can of beans at my head.”

“But I did!” the six-year-old defends. “I said, ‘I’ll throw down the supplies.’”

“Supplies for what?” Tony questions. He passes Peter the ice pack, earning a grunt of thanks.

“For the mission,” Morgan explains as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We were playing superheroes and we needed to pack the supplies to take with us ‘cus we had to go fight the bad guys in space.”

“She’d been stockpiling stuff for the last couple days in the treehouse,” Peter goes on, “so she was just tossing everything down for me to put in the bag. Which, y’know, was fine for the stuffed animals and the walkie-talkies and the plastic lightsabers”—he gingerly touches the ice to his nose—“just not for a sixteen-ounce can of refried pintos.”

(Tony winces in sympathy.)

Morgan lets out an exasperated exhale. “Well, we had to bring something to eat—it’s a long way to Pluto.”  

Huffing out a laugh, Tony shakes his head slowly. “I guess it’s hardly Peter’s first experience getting injured before a mission officially even begins...” he muses. He grins at the teenager. “Remember when you tripped off the quinjet ramp and sprained your ankle two minutes after we landed?”

Peter rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed. “That was one time, Mr. Stark.”

“Memorable though,” Tony quips. He gestures to the kid’s messy face and sighs. “Alright, let’s see the damage.”

Reluctantly, Peter pulls the paper towels away and fresh blood starts to trickle down. There’s a cut at the bridge of his nose and it’s rapidly swelling, a dark bruise already starting to form under his eye.

Tony prods carefully at the break, making Peter wince. “Well, it’s definitely broken,” he reports after a moment, “but it seems pretty well-aligned at least. Nothing to reset.”

Peter lets out a short, breathy laugh. “Probably because it was already a little crooked from the last time I broke it. Guess she knocked it back.”

“So… I made it better?” Morgan asks hopefully.

Tony turns in his daughter’s direction. “Oh no, don’t you start thinking you’re off the hook here, Little Miss Budding Plastic Surgeon,” he says, holding up a stern finger. “You still need to be more careful where you’re chucking your beans.”

Peter snorts, then instantly seems to regret that as he groans and adjusts the ice pack on his face.

Morgan’s expression sobers and she drops her gaze down to her feet. “I just thought he would catch it. He always catches stuff when I throw it to him…”

Her comment gives Tony pause. Now that he thinks about it, it’s not the first time since Peter arrived at the lake house for their long weekend that the kid has seemed rather sluggish and off his game. He’d dozed through most of the drive over on Friday afternoon and then slept in until almost noon the next day. Even now, he can see the dark circles under Peter’s eyes and the pallor to his cheeks that can’t be completely explained by his current blood loss.

“It’s okay, Mo,” Peter reassures her with a small smile. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. It’ll be all better by morning, okay?”

Morgan perks up at that, so Tony pushes aside the twinge of worry in his gut. After all, Peter’s been taking seventeen credit hours at MIT this semester, not to mention his Boston vigilante activities and the additional part-time lab assistant gig he’s picked up; that’s enough to make anyone run a little ragged.

“Why don’t you two just watch a movie or something?” Tony suggests. “Give Peter’s nose a little time to sort itself out.”

Morgan and Peter agree, so Tony rustles up some of Peter’s super-strength painkillers and sets the kids up in the living room with some weird movie that Morgan inexplicably loves about a talking parrot whose biggest goal in life is to see the sun rise over the Grand Canyon. Before they even hit the fifteen minute mark, from out of the corner of his eye, Tony sees the ice pack slide down Peter’s face as the boy drifts off.

X

The combination of pain pills and the usual post-injury recovery time knocks Peter out and he sleeps straight through the rest of the movie. He’s still a little groggy and disoriented when Tony wakes him for dinner, but years of mentoring a reckless teenage superhero have taught the man that this is all par for the course.

Given that the pork chops Pepper left for them to reheat (before heading to her sister’s house for the weekend) require a bit more chewing than Peter’s face is up for at the moment, Tony whips the kid up a smoothie to drink instead.

Peter peers warily into the glass Tony hands him, swirling the green contents around. “What’s in here?”

Tony shrugs. “Whatever I found in the fridge. Blueberries, yogurt, scoop of protein powder, a banana, some spinach…”

“Ew, why would you drink spinach?” Morgan interrupts, her nose wrinkling up in disgust. “That’s gross.”

“Says the girl who put mayonnaise on her graham crackers last week,” Tony points out.

“It was good!” she defends.

Peter takes a cautious sip of the drink. He looks contemplative for second, then must have decided that he approves of the flavor because he just shrugs and proceeds to down about half the glass in a few gulps.

Morgan makes a dramatic gagging noise. Tony rolls his eyes and flicks her arm playfully.

“It’s actually really good,” Peter admits, lowering the cup back down. “Been awhile since I’ve had real vegetables.”

“Ugh, lucky,” Morgan groans as Tony adds a few pieces of asparagus to the little girl’s plate. “They��re the worst. Except for artichokes—those are good.”

“You like artichokes?” Peter questions.

“Uh huh.” She grins. “And turnips!”

“Well, Gerald likes turnips,” Tony clarifies, “and Morgan likes feeding them to him.”

This comment inspires Morgan to launch into a long-winded explanation of all the things she’s ever seen Gerald eat—from grass, to broccoli stalks, to a weird-looking bug—and which of those were his favorites. Peter nods along to her rambling, but seems far less engaged than usual and doesn’t even react when she mentions Gerald’s favorite type of cookie is double stuffed Oreo.

(Tony, on the other hand, interrupts at that point with a stern lecture for the six-year-old on what she can and cannot feed the alpaca moving forward.)

Once dinner is over, they all migrate back to the living room. Morgan wants to play Uno, and Peter obliges for a while, but his overall lack of focus persists.

“Peeeterrrr,” Morgan whines for the third time, poking his arm to snap him out of his daze. “It’s your turn again. You gotta draw two.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Peter takes two cards from the deck and adds them to his hand before reaching up to rub tiredly at his temples.

Tony’s brow furrows. “Headache?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Peter admits. “It’s not bad, just like… there.”

“Hm.” Tony nods. Turning to Morgan he says, “What do you say we finish this game up tomorrow?” Morgan’s face screws up and she looks like she’s about to protest before he adds, “Pretty sure there are some fudge-pops left in the freezer. I won’t tell Mommy if you don’t.”

Morgan drops her cards with an excited whoop and jumps up to run to the kitchen.

Tony gets to his feet to follow her. He glances back at Peter, who has sunk into the cushions with a relieved sigh. “Fudge-pop?” he offers.

Peter makes a non-committal noise in his throat. “I dunno. Think I might just head to bed.”

Tony glances at his watch. It’s just shy of eight o’clock—even Morgan doesn’t usually go to bed for another half hour. He knows Peter’s healing always takes a lot out of him, but he’s seen the kid looking less drowsy and out of it after getting slammed into the airport tarmac in Germany and cracking three ribs than he does at the moment. “Think you might be coming down with something?” he asks.

Peter shrugs once more, prompting Tony to press his hand to the kid’s forehead. He definitely isn’t detecting a fever—if anything, Peter’s skin is a little cold.

“What’s not feeling good?” Tony clarifies. “Head? Stomach? Throat?”

Peter hesitates a second. “Just… just my head I guess.” He sighs. “I think I’m just tired. Haven’t really been sleeping that great lately,” he confesses.

Tony’s forehead creases in concern. “Kid, you know May and I talked to you about overloading yourself your first year at school.”

“No, I go to bed,” Peter clarifies, “I just don’t always, like, sleep.”

“Why?” Tony’s frown deepens. “Are you having nightmares, or…?”

“No…” Peter exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that. I just can’t always, like, settle down? I don’t know—it’s really not that bad,” he quickly backtracks. “I think I just need a good night’s sleep. I’ll be better tomorrow.”

(Like an idiot, Tony believes him.)

“Alright, well, sleep well kid,” he says as Peter shuffles off to the guest room.

X

“Okay, so... this is a little weird,” Peter says as he enters the kitchen the next morning.

Tony glances up and blinks at the sight of Peter’s very swollen and now darkly bruised nose and cheekbone. He sets down the bowl of waffle batter he’s been whisking and moves over to get a closer look.

“What the hell, kid?” Tony mutters under his breath, running his fingertips carefully over the still-clearly-broken bone. “You once healed from a compound fracture overnight.” He pauses a beat. “Of your femur.”

“Eh...” Peter shrugs tiredly. “Super-healing isn’t really a science, is it?”

“Well it’s certainly not an art,” Tony retorts. He gestures to the kid’s nose. “Unless this is your Black-and-Blue Period, Picasso.”

Peter groans, sinking down onto one of the kitchen chairs. “That was almost as painful as my face,” he complains.

It’s clear the kid meant it as a joke, but that admission does nothing to alleviate Tony’s concern. He finds Peter a fresh ice pack and doses him out another painkiller before resuming making breakfast.

Somehow even a second night of sleep doesn’t seem to have restored much of the kid’s energy. Peter sits hunched forward with one elbow on the table to hold the ice to his face and has his phone resting in his lap. He scrolls idly through it, looking like he might nod off any second.

After a few minutes, the backdoor to the kitchen swings open and Morgan re-enters with pieces of hay still stuck to her boots.

“I gave Gerald two turnips,” she announces. “And he hummed at me and then he tried to steal my hat but I got it back ‘cept for the fuzzy thing.” She points at the red knit hat on her head, which is missing a pom-pom.

Tony groans as he ladles more waffle batter onto the iron. “He didn’t swallow it, did he? Because if that vet has to come out here one more time, I swear—”

“Peter!” Morgan blurts, suddenly noticing the boy at the table. He startles and looks up from his lap as the six-year-old runs over to him. “Your face looks so bad!”

Tony clears his throat. “Uh, Morgan, we don’t—”

“So, so, so, so bad,” she emphasizes, as tears well up in her eyes. She throws her arms around his waist. “I’m really r-really sorry!” she cries. “I didn’t m-mean to hit you with the beans!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Mo,” Peter assures, wrapping her in his arms. “It’s gonna heal really soon, okay? I’m a spider, remember? I always heal fast.”

“But sp-spiders don...don’t heal fast!” Morgan sobs into his chest. “You can squish ‘em re-really easy and they d-die if it gets too c-cold or if they get sprayed with bug killing stuff, an-and…”

Peter glances up and shoots his mentor a look of utter helplessness.

In return, Tony shrugs his shoulders in an exaggerated fashion. “Don’t look at me, kid. I’ve been wondering the same thing since we met.”

Still holding the crying child, Peter rolls his eyes at him.

“Kidding, kidding...” Tony says under his breath. He abandons the waffle iron and heads over to gather the sobbing six-year-old up into his arms. “Morgan, sweetheart, listen to me,” he says as he rubs her back gently. “Peter isn’t really a spider, okay? He’s actually more of a mutant.”

(Morgan only cries harder at that.)

Peter huffs out a short laugh and leans back against the chair. “Doing great, Mr. Stark.”

“...And because he’s a mutant,” Tony plows right along, “his DNA is different from ours and that’s why he usually heals freaky fast,” he explains over her tears as she buries her face in his shoulder. “Except it’s just being a little slow today, so we’re gonna just let him rest and eat some good food and that should help fix him up, okay?”

She hiccups a few times. “So he ju...just needs some w-waffles?” she manages to get out.

That jogs Tony’s memory. He spins around to see that the iron is still very much on and the waffle is starting to burn, smoke wafting up around the edges. “Ah shit,” he mutters.

“It’s okay, I got it,” Peter says, pushing himself quickly up from his seat. But the moment he gets to his feet, he staggers sideways and grips the table, his face draining of color.

“Pete?” Tony goes to set the still-sniffling six-year-old back down, but before he’s able to get her feet on the floor, Peter’s knees give out.

Tony curses and shoots a hand out just a second too late as Peter crumples first to his knees and then to the ground, landing directly on his already-injured face.

Morgan’s eyes go wide. “Daddy!” she shrieks.

Tony plops her down abruptly. “Go unplug the waffle maker, okay?” he instructs her as he drops to his knees next to Peter. He figures the last thing they need to add to the chaos is a smoke alarm.

Eyes still locked on the scene before her, Morgan nods and runs over to the counter to unplug the device. Meanwhile, Tony rolls Peter over onto his back and instantly grimaces at the sight. Besides the deathly pallor, the kid’s broken nose is definitely crooked now and fresh blood is streaming down.

“Is he… dead?” Morgan asks, horrified.

“No, no, of course not...” Tony presses two fingers to the pulse point in the boy’s neck, relieved to feel a strong, albeit fast, beat. “He just fainted—he’ll be fine,” he says, shaking the unconscious boy’s shoulder. 

“He looks dead,” Morgan whispers, still staring.

“Yeah, but he’s not,” Tony says firmly. Not wanting the blood to run down Peter’s throat, he continues to roll the kid over until he’s on his side in a sort of modified recovery position. “Pete, c’mon, this isn’t a good look,” he mutters, tapping Peter’s cheek. “We’re all getting enough trauma therapy as it is…”

Finally, the kid’s eyelids start fluttering open. “There you go, that’s it,” Tony praises when Peter blinks up at him. “You back with us yet?”

Peter groans and lets his eyes close again. “Do I ‘ave to be?”

“Yes,” Tony says curtly. He starts shaking Peter’s shoulder again, though gentler now. “I need to know how I’m taking you to Bruce—car or ambulance?”

“Ugh… How ‘bout neither?” Peter mumbles. He lifts a hand up tiredly to wipe a bit of blood off his upper lip. “‘M alright. Just got a lil’ dizzy…”

“Nope.” Worry is quickly taking over Tony, though it comes out in the form of briskness. “You’ve got sixty seconds to get off the floor or I’m choosing for you,” he declares, already pulling out his phone.

Morgan’s voice comes out small and quavering. “Peter...?”

Ultimately, that sound is what it takes to make Peter move. With Tony’s support, he pushes himself up and sits there for a moment, blinking wearily as blood trickles down from his nose. Tony sends Morgan to fetch a box of tissues and a clean shirt for Peter, then loads them both into the car for a little field trip.

X

“Anemia?” Peter repeats, incredulous.

The kid is sitting on an exam table at the SHIELD Medical base, his recently-reset nose now splinted. Meanwhile, Morgan sits in the chair beside Tony, entertaining herself with a handful of wooden tongue depressors and a roll of medical tape.

Bruce adjusts his glasses as he scans the results from Peter’s blood panel on his tablet. “Yeah, that’s what the tests are showing. Basically, it means that your body isn’t getting enough iron to produce hemoglobin, so it can’t carry oxygen effectively. This results in fatigue, lightheadedness, insomnia, headaches, shortness of breath, and—apparently in your case—a reduced healing factor.”

“But how did I get anemia?” Peter balks. “I’m Spider-Man.”

“Well, there are a few possible causes,” Bruce explains, “but based on several nutrient deficiencies I’m seeing in your bloodwork, my best guess is from your diet.”

“Ah.” A look of understanding flickers across Peter’s face for a second. “Yeah, okay, that checks out...” he mumbles.

“Wait, how exactly does that ‘check out’?” Tony asks.

Peter shrugs. “Well, I just… haven’t been eating the best food lately.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Doesn’t MIT’s cafeteria serve a pretty decent spread?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” Peter allows. He rubs a hand at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I just haven’t been really… uh, going there?”

Tony blinks at him. “Why the hell not?”

“That’s Mommy’s word,” Morgan pipes up without looking up from the two wooden sticks she’s connecting together with tape.

“I just don’t have a lot of time between my classes and job and stuff, and the cafeteria is all the way across campus,” Peter explains. “So I mostly just eat my own food.”

“Which would be…?” Bruce asks.

Peter hesitates. “Ramen,” he says after a moment. “The chicken flavor one.”

“Hm, okay…” Bruce nods, jotting this down on his tablet. “Not really the most nutritious option, but definitely a college staple. What else?”

Dropping his gaze to his lap, Peter starts picking at a piece of fuzz on his sweatshirt. “Uh… sometimes I get the beef one?”

Tony blinks at him. “Beef ramen?”

“I tried the lime chili shrimp one once. Not a fan.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Tony blinks again. “Peter, I’m paying for you to have three square meals a day at that college—not three styrofoam cups of dehydrated noodles.”

“I also eat granola bars,” Peter says. “And bagels.” He starts ticking foods off on his fingers. “Microwave burritos, yogurt, uh.... those little frozen chicken taquito thingies? But like, only if my roommate isn’t using the freezer for his weird cult ritual stuff. That’s why I usually stick to the soup.”

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose and heaves out a sigh. “Jesus take the wheel…”

“Oh! I had an apple last week!” Peter throws in.

Bruce runs a hand through his own hair, exhaling a carefully measured breath. “Okay, Peter, you know that you have an enhanced metabolism, right? That means you need to eat significantly more food than the average person.”

“Right, and I do!” Peter nods. “I always make sure I get enough calories.”

“And that’s good,” Bruce says, “but you also need to make sure you’re getting enough nutrients. Calories are just a part of that. With your unusual physiology, it’s especially important that you’re getting all the required vitamins and minerals to support the rapid regeneration of your cells, and a diet of cup noodles and bagels—”

“And frozen burritos,” Peter interrupts.

“—is simply not nutritionally dense enough for you,” Bruce finishes. “Not by a long shot.”

There’s a beat.

“Oh.”

“What does ‘nu-tri-tion-al-ly dense’ mean?” Morgan asks. Her tongue depressor creation has folded over itself and vaguely resembles a collapsed bridge now.

“It means Peter needs to eat more vegetables,” Tony butts in. “Just like you and Gerald.”

She sticks out her tongue. “Gross.”

“Alright, we’re gonna start you on some iron supplements,” Bruce addresses Peter. “But it might take a couple weeks to get your levels back up enough to reverse the anemia. I’m also going to give you a list of foods high in iron—things like dark leafy greens, broccoli, dried fruit, nuts, red meat, kidney beans—”

“NO BEANS,” the other three all declare in unison.

X

After hauling the kids back to the lake house, Tony sets Peter and Morgan up on the couch with another movie (Pirates of the Caribbean this time) and heads to the kitchen to fix them all some lunch. Potatoes and turnips are both high in iron, so he cooks and mashes up a big potful with some milk, butter, and salt, figuring that would be easy to chew without hurting the kid’s face too much. He scoops some into a bowl for Peter and then whips up another green smoothie for him to drink, as well as sandwiches for himself and Morgan. Once everything is ready, he piles it all onto a tray and heads back.

As he approaches the living room, Tony can already hear Morgan’s voice floating towards him in the falsetto stage-whisper she always uses when she’s voicing make-believe characters.

“Help me! Help me!” she cries. “Oh no, I’m falling!”

Tony stops in the room’s threshold to watch. The movie is still playing in the background, but neither kid seems to be watching. Instead, Peter is lying on his back on the sofa with his eyes closed, giggling quietly while Morgan kneels on the floor in front of the cushions, dancing a single M&M around the edges of the boy’s open mouth.

Suddenly, she drops the candy into his mouth with a dramatic gasp. “Noooo… the king has fallen into the pit! The anemia monster got him!” she cries.

“The anemia monster?” Tony asks in amusement.

Peter’s eyes snap open. “Uh, we were just playing a game.”

Morgan turns back to look at her dad, grinning. “Chocolate is on the list Uncle Bruce gave him!” she says, waving the piece of paper in Tony’s direction.

“Pretty sure that says dark chocolate,” Tony says, eyes narrowing at them as he crosses the room. “Not leftover M&Ms from the Christmas stash.”

Morgan’s face falls. “Aw…”

Tony sets the tray of food down on the coffee table. “Don't worry, kids,” he says, passing Peter the kale and fruit-rich protein smoothie. “Iron Man to the rescue.”

X

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Morgan Stark, M.D.

Dad Level: 3000

Long Distance Dadding

X

[highqueenofelfhame]

As soon as they were out of the car, Aelin was reaching for Aedion and lacing their fingers together. Lysandra appeared on her other side, arm looping through her own as they surrounded her as a steadying force. Aedion pressed a kiss to her temple, murmuring that he would be right beside her the whole time. It felt silly, needing so much support to walk into a house, but it was support that she couldn’t be without today. 

They stood in front of the manor, the place she had grown up. Her home. Aelin had still failed to go inside, but she wanted to visit the grounds before bringing Rowan back to go through her father’s study. The primary concern was that if she didn’t, she would have some sort of a breakdown over the whole affair. 

The manor itself was massive. When they’d pulled up to the front, they circled the large fountain before parking in front of the stairs that lead to the main entry. To her right, the green house jutted out slightly, the large dome of the glass ceiling sparkling in the sun. Stone banisters curled around the greenhouse, snaking around the back of the manor. Nearly all the window panes were covered in ivy, even the main portion of the house that leaned on being more gothic-style in architecture with spires reaching for the clouds. 

Banisters lined the flat roof, a place Aedion and Aelin had spent many nights pointing out constellations and dozing under the cover of the moon. When they got older, Sam had joined them, too. It’d always been something special, something soothing when things were rough. Part of her wished desperately that she had let herself grieve her parents and Sam with Aedion up on that roof, shielded by the dark blanket of the night. But it was a little late for that now. 

Exhaling slowly, she released Aedion’s hand to begin her ascent up the stairs. She was careful to avoid the icy patches on the steps that had yet to completely thaw under the mid-morning sun. With her support system behind her, she couldn’t help but feel her stomach twisting at how odd it felt to be going home at long last. It was familiar, it was home. But somehow it felt foreign and cold. 

Aelin pulled out the key and unlocked the door, a heavy exhale dropping from her lips as the door swung open to reveal the grand staircases on either side of the entry. In the center was an abundant floral arrangement on a large marble table. It was opulent and every bit the home you’d expect a Lord and Lady of Terrasen to live in. 

Down the hall to the left, sugary confections were being made in the kitchens. The smell made her stomach grumble and tugged her toward it, begging her to go see, to go taste. If she’d missed anything about life at the manor, it was Marion Lochan’s baking she had so often snuck down to the kitchens for in the middle of the night. She followed the smells, taking in the sight of the manor that remained, for the most part, completely unchanged. 

When she reached the door to the kitchen, a voice was humming along to a song and she knew immediately who the voice belonged to. Pushing into the room, she received a double-take from both women behind the counter before the younger of the two was bounding across the room and throwing her arms around her neck. 

“Oh, Aelin!” She breathed, squeezing her tightly. Aelin melted into her embrace as Marion joined them, kissing Aelin’s head and running a hand through her hair. It was impossible to resist melting into the embrace, to feel a motherly touch after so long of living the way she had been. Her life the last few years had been hard, by no one’s fault but her own, and she sorely regretted not coming back to this sooner. Her eyes instantly teared up as she shifted to hug Marion tightly, her face pressing into the matron’s neck.

Marion was the head of household. When her parents were away, she had often been in charge of Aelin and everything that entailed. As a young girl, she’d played and tutored with Elide constantly. When Elide had grown older she had become Aelin’s hand maid. However, they were so much more than servants or people that worked in the house. They were family, and that was that. 

Marion was like a second mother. Not in the sense that Evalin Ashryver had ever for a second been inadequate in any way. In fact, her mom was the best mother in the world, she’d wager. But Marion had always been a steady constant in her life, had always been there if Evalin was out of reach. Marion and Evalin had been the best of friends, sisters of sorts. Elide had quickly become the same to Aelin, someone that had become like a little sister that she’d never had. Elide had harbored all of Aelin’s secrets like a sister, never once selling her out for sneaking out her bedroom window to spend nights on the lake with Sam. 

“Welcome home, my love,” Marion said softly against her hair, hands running soothingly over her shoulder blades. She pulled back slightly, wiping the tears from Aelin’s cheeks. Elide, however, was beaming. 

“Aedion mentioned you were due to come by today. We’re making your favorite.” 

“Chocolate hazelnut cake!” She exclaimed, having known as soon as the front door had opened what would be awaiting her down the hall. “Thank you. Really, you didn’t have to.”

“Go finish having a look,” Marion insisted. “I’ll call for you when it’s finished.” So following instruction, Aelin nodded and left the kitchen to explore the house that had built her.

Not a single thing had changed, even when she got to her own bedroom. It had been kept tidy and clean, nothing out of place and no dust bunnies in sight. Her school books were still stacked on her desk by the window, her bed was made with all nine pillows overflowing the plush duvet. The book shelves that covered half the room remained color coded and as pristine as she’d left them. Her fingers traced the letters down the spines of some of the titles. Some of them were first editions of classics worth tons of money, and she felt guilt rising up in her chest for leaving them unattended for so long. 

Pausing near the window, she touched the white gossamer curtains and frowned. The purple, silver, and white color scheme somehow didn’t fit her anymore. As soon as she was back downstairs, she made a mental note to request a change of color scheme to better suit her tastes now. 

From the curtains, her gaze shifted to the desk where a photo of her and Sam was perched front and center. Immediately, her chest was squeezing and contracting, her throat burning with tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. Her lips were pressed to his cheek and he was smiling in a wide, goofy grin. Their hair was sprinkled with snow, their noses and cheeks nipped with cold. Aelin glanced over her shoulder at Aedion, who took a few steps toward her.

Instead of speaking, Aelin shook her head to halt him as she moved to her closet. Dress after dress lined the left side, so many of them unworn. All of her casual clothes had been packed up by Lysandra and were at her apartment now, so the right side of the closet remained mostly bare. She stepped back into the main room, not bothering to glance at the bathroom before exiting back into the hall and turning toward her parents’ rooms. Aedion walked beside her down to the west wing, his hand a reminder that he was there as he rested it on her lower back. 

When she pushed open the doors, her hands began to shake because everything was perfect. 

Perfect, like they would be coming home any minute. Her mother would be home to take a hot bath and slip into more casual clothes, her dad would disappear into his study until dinner. After dinner, they’d watch a movie while she studied for exams, or go downtown to the antique shops they frequented every week. 

When she stepped into the closet, she was nearly brought to her knees. Everything was so perefectly preserved that she swore she could smell their perfume, their cologne. Harder her hands shook as she picked up the bottle of perfume on a shelf and sniffed, tears falling down her cheeks in white hot streaks that she couldn’t stop. When the sobs began, she couldn’t stop them. The bottle slipped from her hands and shattered all over the marble floor. Small pieces of glass grazed the skin of her ankles in the explosion, drawing blood and stinging as the perfume settled into her skin. The scent was overwhelming as she dropped to her knees, sobbing in the mess until Aedion scooped her into his arms and carried her from the closet. 

“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I’m so sorry, Mama. I’m so sorry.” The confessions poured out of her, that she was sorry for not finishing school, for disappointing them. That she was sorry for wasting her life. She even turned her face up to Aedion’s as he held her and apologized to him, too, for all the trouble she’d given him over the years. With her entire body shaking, she pressed her face into his shoulder and sobbed. 

There, curled up in Aedion’s lap in her parents’ old bedroom, she wept and wept until there were no more tears to cry. 

~*~

“Ace, you know I hate this creepy ass building.” Aedion had a look of distaste curling his lip as she walked them into the mausoleum. Eyes rolling, she pulled open the gate and gestured for them to get inside.

“I need to show you something.”

“What could she possibly need to show me in a crypt?” He grumbled to Lysandra, who elbowed him roughly in the ribs. Once inside, Aelin unlocked the secret door. The look on Aedion’s face was priceless as it crumpled with complete and utter confusion at the whirring and churning sounds coming from the walls. When the wall jutted out, his jaw dropped open, but his complaints about the crypt didn’t stop. Not even when Aelin had revealed the hidden space that Rowan, Fenrys, and Aelin affectionately referred to as the Bunker. 

Aedion had as many questions as Aelin, and she didn her best to explain. It was easy to see that this was as much a surprise to him as it had been to her; Aedion’d had no idea what her father had been up to down there. It seemed he’d only ever been trained in the family businesses, not whatever this was. She watched him carefully as he took in all the writing on the walls, as he traced a finger along what could only be described as the conspiracy wall. 

“When did you find all this?”

“A few weeks ago. That day I found that note in your desk. Fen has been helping. Dr. Whitethorn - Rowan - he thinks that they were murdered. And I think he’s right.” Aelin was twisting the hem of her shirt in her hands anxiously. Aedion let out a whoosh of air like it had been knocked clean from his lungs, and as his eyes fell shut he quietly said, “Tell me everything you know.”

~*~

Friday rolled around quicker than she had expected. She was down in the bunker, packing up every bit of information that had been left behind. They had spent the last two days organizing all the information into a foolproof system that would make it easy to find anything they sought out. After taking multiple photos of the conspiracy, they began to dismantle that, too, so they could later rebuild it at a different location. 

Aelin’s hair was braided down her back, stray strands around her face sticking to the slight swear she’d managed to work up while heaving boxes around. She had just finished packing another when she heard her name being shouted from outside. Lysandra immediately opened her mouth to make a snarky comment, but Aelin cut her off. “He’s my doctor. And a friend. And he’s helping.”

“Helping you orgasm?” Aedion snorted at his girlfriend while Aelin threw an old passport at her like a frisbee. Her friend hissed in response. 

“No, that’s what Fenrys is for,” she countered, sticking her tongue out as Rowan descended the stairs looking criminally good in a leather jacket. 

“Fenrys is for what?” 

“Nothing,” Aelin said, the same time Lysandra said “Aelin’s orgasms.” The blonde shot an incredulous look at her friend, putting the lid on the last box and moving it to sit by the stairs. “I’m going to kill you.” Rowan’s face looked indifferent, but there was something about the way his mouth tensed at the corners. 

“Why are you packing everything up?” Rowan took the box from Aelin and carried it up the stairs behind her. Once outside, her eyes shifted from the snow-capped mountains in the distance to Rowan’s face. She chewed on her bottom lip as he deposited the box into the back of a moving van. “You don’t want my help anymore?”

“No. I mean, yes, I do want your help. I was going to talk to you about it in the study.” Rowan’s fingers grazed the outside of her elbow and she turned to face him. “I think I need to go to Rifthold. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how often my family went to Rifthold. Sam went on weekend trips all the time and I always thought it was just to do with seeing his mother’s grave but now I’m not so sure.” Their breath mingled between them, hanging in the air and drifting away in little clouds. With his cheeks and nose flush from the cold, he looked younger somehow. 

“If you’re going to Rifthold, I -”

“I know you can’t help me from here. Not easily, but I thought -”

“Would you let me speak without interrupting?” He quipped, a brow arched. Aelin pressed her lips into a thin line, frustrated that he wouldn’t let her finish. She needed - “If you’re going to Rifthold… I’ll have to sort out some things first but I’m going with you. I respected your father too much to let you do that alone. It could be dangerous, and I wouldn’t ever forgive myself if something happened to you.” He said it so bluntly, like it was the obvious choice, that without thinking she threw her arms around his neck. Rowan seemed surprised at first, but after a moment his hands braced against her back. When they finally separated, she looped her elbow through his and nodded toward the house. 

“Let’s go sift through the study.”

~*~

Fenrys was lounging on her bed in the manor while she dug through the formal gowns in her closet. It had been a week since Rowan agreed to go to Rifthold. Ever since, getting there and sorting out what her parents had been so hell bent on uncovering was her top priority. It seemed, based on all the research in the bunker, that her parents thought it had something to do with magic. Doing so would require going to some parties to mingle with the Royal family, so she was neck deep in her most expensive gowns at the moment.

She wouldn’t be going to Rifthold as Aelin Galathynius, it had been decided. It was too risky if her family had genuinely been murdered. If she was found in Rifthold she could meet a similar fate and she wasn’t too keen on that happening before she figured out what was going on. She hadn’t seen any of the royals since she was thirteen, and she liked to think she looked quite a bit different as a mature, young woman. She also planned to dye her hair when she got there, making her even more unrecognizable. 

“This one?” She stepped back out into her rooms, holding a black velvet dress to her body. After a moment, she turned it to show him the back and Fenrys gave her a low whistle. 

“Whitethorn would lose his mind if he saw you in that,” he said, shaking his head. Aelin paused and looked over her shoulder at him. 

“What?” 

“What?” He repeated, brows raised.

“Why would -”

“I mean, I certainly would. Why wouldn’t he?” The grin on his lips was sheepish and his eyes dropped to look at the cream sheets he lay on. Soon, all the gowns would be packed up and hung in the back of the moving van, all ready to go for Rifthold. With narrowed eyes, Aelin walked over to Fen and plopped onto the mattress beside him, wiggling to tug the nightgown she’d been wearing when he showed up down her thighs. 

“Are you nervous?” Fenrys’ weight shifted and she turned her head to look at him properly. He was rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

“I’m tired is what I am,” she sighed. It was the truth. Mentally, emotionally, physically, the girl was completely wiped. Sleep didn’t come as easy as it used to. Lately, her nightmares of the accident had started back up again. Not to mention the nightmares she had of her parents being murdered right before her eyes. Dreams of Sam pulling her onto a dance floor, wedding dress swirling around her feet only for blood to start oozing from his chest. Yes, she was very tired. Perhaps the most tired she’d ever been in her life. 

So when he made the offer to wear her out so she could sleep like a rock that night, she let him roll on top of her and claim her mouth with his own. 

~*~

Life was changing at a rapid pace. She had been stagnant for two years, letting herself waste away. Now, she had a purpose, a reason to wake up and keep living the life that she had been given a second chance for. 

Her heart was fluttering in her chest viciously as Rowan and Aedion closed up the door of the trailer. Aedion and Lysandra were supposed to be moving her down to Rifthold, but some things had come up at the company that Aedion flat out couldn’t get out of. It ended up okay because Rowan didn’t work this weekend and offered to drive her down himself after recruiting Fenrys and another cadre member, Lorcan, into helping. Aelin was still unclear just on what role Rowan and Lorcan seemed to play in her father's arsenal. Though she could assume they were the brute force of the bunch just by looking at them. 

“I’ll be down next week, so if you need anything from home let me know.” Aedion said, reaching out to brush her hair behind her ear. He looked like a nervous wreck and part of Aelin understood the feeling. After his mom died he had moved in with them, and they’d not been separated since. Even when he was mad at her, they saw each other usually twice a week. They had always lived in Orynth together, never too far apart, and now she was moving five hours away. Aedion was a protector, and she knew it drove him mad that he wouldn’t be around the corner at any given moment if she needed him. But she also needed him here, taking care of the company because for all their secrets, they loved their work. Aelin needed her cousin running the business, keeping everything normal and even though he hated being away from her he would do it. So when he pulled her into a bone crushing hug, she let him and squeezed just as hard back. 

“I love you so much,” she whispered into his shoulder, and with a kiss to her head he returned the sentiments. Aelin moved to Lysandra then and hugged her just as tight as she tried not to cry. The last few years had been rocky because of her issues, but Lysandra was still her best friend.

“Phone call away. That’s all I am,” Lys said. “And we’ll come down as often as we can, hell I’ll come down even when he can’t.” She pressed a kiss to Aelin’s cheek and she stepped back and appraised the last of her family. 

Rowan’s hand fell to her lower back and she knew it was time, so she headed over to the passenger side of the van and climbed in. Lorcan and Fenrys were packed into Aelin’s car ahead of them, already looking ready to kill each other. It brought some sort of joy, enough to make her laugh despite the steady stream of tears falling down her cheeks. 

Aedion and Lysandra waved until the gates swung closed behind the van and she couldn’t see them anymore. 

@starseternalnighttriumphant 

@westofmoon

@over300books

@booksbringmetolife--

@notaelingalathynius

@bookishdrawings

@dreamcatchersimss

@cmoff1

@wifeofchrishemsworth

@pen-paper-and-ink

@highladyofelfhame-remastered

@therealgoldenbookworm

@casuallyghostlywonderland

@sweetgooppeachmonger

@cat5313

@secret-lil-rendez-vous

@running-with-thieves

@silvermindwarrior

@ame233

@highladyofnothing-yet

@faerie-queen-fireheart

@the-regal-warrior

@anabelkay @city-of-fae

@empress-ofbloodshed

@athousandlivesread

@elide-lochan-salvaterre

@vi0let-femmes

@andreywasnthere

@shyvioletcat

@vasudharaghavan

@goth-mother

@xxrattlethestarsxx

@nalgenewhore

@lady-westfall

@lizzzziebear

@clockworkgraystairs

@hellas-himself

@tangledraysofsunshine

@totalcompletebookworm

@dean-winchesters-impala-1967

@bookloveaffair

@la7sorcellerie

@lovemollywho

@rowaelin-fireheart

@rosesandglass

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@buffaloxchange

@flora-and-fae

@amren-courtofdreams

@damebadwolf

@addicitedtowriting

@ladyofstoriesandmusic

@waterless-cloud​

@ariadneswake​

@hellolenas​

@impossiblescissorspeachpaper​

@the-book-reaper​

[thecloserkin]

Doom (2005) fic roundup

I have now recommended this action/sci-fi/horror film based on a bestselling video game franchise to not one not two but three friends and I am happy to report they all concur, cinema Peaked in 2005, this is the best movie ever made. I watched it for the first time on @shipcestuous‘s recommendation: She has an extremely thorough breakdown here, and the pitch of her enthusiasm and the penetration of her analysis are without peer. Honestly I can’t think of a single reason not to watch this movie. Watch it for Rosamund Pike. Watch it for Karl Urban. Watch it to marvel at how much Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson’s acting chops have improved in the past 15 years. I have now seen this cinematic masterpiece three (3) times and I have zero (0) regrets. There is a sequel out, Doom: Annihilation (2019) but it’s not worth your time. Recently I went through the John Grimm/Samantha Grimm tag on ao3 and read every single fic, most of them for the second or third time, and I had a fucking blast. Friends, if any of you would like to experience this cinematic masterpiece for yourselves please please PLEASE message me and i’ll send you the link to dl it.

Doom (2005, dir. Andrzej Bartkowiak) is about a squad of Marines dispatched to contain a zombie outbreak in a secure scientific facility on Mars. There is no earthly reason for it to be set on Mars btw so I just chalk this decision up to video game continuity (same with the first-person-shooter sequence in the third act, which is five minutes long and it was the longest five minutes of my life). What’s impressive about this film is it somehow manages not to glorify (1) the military or (2) the scientific establishment. It’s a film stuffed to the gills with dudebros (outside of Rosamund Pike they’re all dudebros) yet to my eternal delight the humor actually landed, and I think the anarchist bent of the narrative is a big part of why (anarchist as in hella skeptical of authority). I don’t think it’s giving too much away to say this is another “we tried to cure cancer, accidentally unleashed the zombie apocalypse” setup. What’s surprising is that the protagonists are failed by science, as an institution. Our protagonists are one of the Marines (Karl Urban) and his estranged twin sister (Rosamund Pike), who is an archaeologist at the quarantined facility. The chemistry between these two is instantly and unmistakably through the fucking roof. The first time they appear in the same frame the other Marines mistake her for his ex, and it just gets better from there. Every time I watch it, the final frame of this film has me flailing and screeching. I still can’t believe we got a mainstream movie that was this good to us—horror movies in general have a track record of being good to us ‘cest shippers, but this is on another level.

cold hearts, thawing by merely (3k) They’re on the run and they get FAKE MARRIED!!! My god the amount of characterization smuggled into this—Jon and Sam getting hot for each other’s respective areas of competence is my entire kink. It’s not predominantly humorous in tone but the humor slaps in the best way. This is my forever favorite because it was written by one of the friends I got into the movie, so tailor-made for meeee ❤

Before, During, After by anr (1k) If you plotted the arc of their lives it would be a circle. Something about the spareness of the prose & the amount of stuff occurring in the interstices really stayed with me. I realized later it’s because I’d read another of the author’s fics from a diff fandom—it’s in the same mode, love to see it when authors just nail that one register.

DOOMED by chase_acow (1k) ”I thought you said your microbiology was rusty!" "You know I like it when you give me the bottom line.” Lmaooo. In case you haven’t noticed this fandom consists almost entirely of post-canon getting (back) together fic.

Normal by mneiai (<1k) Shut the front door did somebody say pre-canon getting-together fic??! Of course we all know 90% of the reason John enlisted was to flee his feelings for Sam right.

Glimpses of Clarity by izzyb (1.5k) John and Sam have rough sex and it’s completely consensual, but still scary. Part of working through trauma is recognizing that removing oneself from the traumatic situation does not, in itself, dispel the trauma. John has this inability to relinquish control, or abate his vigilance—except, apparently, when he’s fucking Sam hahaha.

Written in the Scars (of our hearts) by Mercury32 (21k, unfinished) I don’t read a lot of soulmark AUs so idk if this is common but it turns out John and Sam are not soulmates??? He gets his tattoo covered up because he’s only ever wanted Sam. They’re on the run because there’s a nationwide manhunt on and they take refuge in their grandpa’s cabin in the woods and along the way they meet Jon’s actual soulmate but he chooses Sam. He will always choose Sam until the day they put him in the ground. The conversation where they explained to their ex-CIA grandfather how they were going undercover as newlyweds is unadulterated gold.

No Heroics by amathela (3k) They go back to their jobs. They try to keep John’s newfound abilities under wraps so as not to turn him into a target or a military guinea pig. The stakes are high but it’s so …. whimsical? And domestic? It’s so good ahhhhh I love it when they’re trying to hide something other than the incest. “He never was able to win an argument against her.” “She rolls her eyes. ‘Not all of us are as pretty as you.’”

He a Tiger Will Be Who Drinks of Me by Brenda (3k) This story is packing some serious mythological and folkloric resonances. I was going to label it post-canon but half of it is pre-canon. When you frame their relationship as Ares and Aphrodite, Selene and Endymion, it does seem inevitable doesn’t it? All roads lead to you.

Need You Tonight by Mercury32 (2.5k) Hot damn it’s a pwp that’s kicked off by Sam having nightmares, and is all about how Sam trusts John implicitly. I still think about the way Rosamund Pike delivers that line in the movie, I know you, like, on a weekly basis. “You've ruined me for other men and I'll probably be walking uncomfortably tomorrow, but no, you didn't hurt me.”

And I Know What You’re Thinking by amathela (1k) Sam loses a lot of blood and John donates his. Course, now that John is a genetically modified superhuman this creates a psychic bond between them. Nobody does dialogue like amathela does, it’s like you can hear the words behind the words the characters are saying.

Homecoming by amathela (1k) Not as playful as her work usually is but still lovely and understated.

Ephelides by Rahmi (1k) Sam gives John anatomy lessons and it’s sexy as haaaaale. "Just because I'm about to give you a handjob doesn't mean I'm not still your sister.” "Your intelligence reflects on me. And you're my brother. Therefore, you're intelligent."

The Edge of DOOM by chase_acow (1.7k) I don’t know what’s going on but the apocalypse is here and Sam and John are shooting things.

If You Don’t Know Me by Now by Mercury32 (4k) Sam and John rifle through his unsent letters and it isn’t 100% full-blown epistolary but we still get a firm idea of what they were up to for those ten years apart. Ok but CONSIDER: what if they sent each other birthday postcards. Imagine!! This line in particular cracked me up: “Congratulations, you finally got your wish of being an only child.”

desert ghosts by river_soul (1k) They’re not “almost home” because they’re together therefore already home asdfkdjfkdjfd. Gorgeously wrought.

You Hit Me Once (kiss with a fist) by aohatsu (3k) I could read pre-canon John/Sam fics at a rate of 100k a day probs. God these kids are so lonely and nobody else understands. John getting into schoolyard brawls to defend Sam’s honor? Habitual bedsharing???!

I Wanna Kiss You (but i want it too much) by Mercury32 (<1k) It’s not a missing moment from canon, exactly—it’s a replay of the scene where the squad meets Sam, only the camera is firmly situated inside John’s head this time. “His fingers are twitching with the need to hold her, to see if the curve of her hip still fits into the palm of his hand, if her forehead still tucks perfectly into his neck. Like a jigsaw puzzle, she'd observed once, made to fit together.”

No Relation by aj2245 (<400 words) I mean the “surprise! they’re not related” reveal came outta nowhere but it was worth it just for this line: “Life on Mars is fragile. The three coffins waiting in the Ark anti-chamber speak to that. One little mistake and she's lost everything. She's lost John, it's just on time delay.”

In the Blood and the Bone by kyrene (10k) Pwp where John and Sam try to get pregnant. It wasn’t my thing but it’s the top-bookmarked fic in the tag, so other people must’ve liked it, and I always try to assume other people are acting rationally so there must be something this fic does well that I’m missing because I don’t care about that facet that much.

**This is not an exhaustive list of John/Sam fics, just a list of the ones I had anything coherent to say about. I do not think there is a single bad fic in the tag and they’re all bite-sized and bingeable!

[ivy-stjames]

AND THE PLANETS OF THE UNIVERSE GO THEIR WAY → ivy + leo

𝚆𝙷𝙾:  @leo-mccarthy​ && @ivystjamess​ 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽:  the evening of saturday, july the eighteenth 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴:  mccarthy residence, basement / leo’s room 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃: in attempt to feel more herself again, ivy goes over to leo’s, things don’t exactly go as either of them planned.

possible tws: mention of abortion, breaking up

IVY:  TO PUT IT SIMPLY, IVY WAS HAVING A ROUGH WEEK. after crying to julien, lemon, and her big sister, she still sort of just felt like a shell of herself. no matter how hard she attempted to train her eye to the movie playing on the screen leo had hanging on the wall at the foot of his bed, she found herself eyeing him with an odd culpability. she laid on his chest, his arm around her in their usual way, but his touch burned, and not in the good way. no longer did his fingers brushing across her hip leave her breathless, nor did his kisses against her skin make her swoon. she felt empty, shattered even, held together by encouraging words of her friends and the lingering sensation of a hug from her sister. every passing second the knot in her stomach unraveled and tightened with each breath she took. what she had done yesterday was irreversible, her and leo wouldn’t be having a child, and no matter how hard she tried to remind herself she loved him, she was blinded with resentment. all ivy wanted to do was cry, but she couldn’t. in a lame attempt to soothe herself, she nuzzled closer into her boyfriend, taking his free hand and kissing his knuckles. still, only a lonely nauseous feeling lingered. tossing about slightly to try and get comfortable, once again she just couldn’t. getting fed up, ivy sat up, hair falling in her eyes as she was illuminated only by flashing images of the movie. . . “leo,” she began softly, a certain fear in her voice. anxiously, she grabbed his hand and played with his fingers as if things didn’t feel resoundingly off. they had always walked to a beat of different drums, but now it felt like they couldn’t even hear each other’s. whether it be from avoidant glances, silent treatment, or arguing, they just weren’t settling back into the usual pace of things. sure, it had only been a day. but this? this wasn’t love. this was unbearable, “i think like. . . i think we like might need to talk about things.”

LEO:  Leo felt like he’d just been going through the motions ever since Ivy told him she’d booked an appointment at planned parenthood. He felt like a shell of himself, not because he had regrets, but because he knew she was suffering. His silver lining in this mess of a situation was that he was confident they had done the right thing. When Ivy told him she was pregnant, or…no…when he guessed she was, it was clear that she was in a highly emotional state. In Leo’s opinion, she had seemed too emotional to make a logical decision. Her idealistic rambling about them starting a family together probably would’ve sent any other person who didn’t want to be a teen parent into a spiral, but he had been confident in his ability to reason and rationalize with her—to get her to come back down to earth. At least that was what he told himself as they laid cuddled up next to each other, watching an obscure arthouse film in his bedroom one day after her abortion. For the first time in a long time, it felt like they just couldn’t get comfortable. Leo kept his eyes fixed on the projector screen, trying desperately to pay attention despite Ivy’s fidgeting beside him, but his mind was elsewhere. There was a very clear elephant in the room and quite frankly, he didn’t know how to address it. He wanted to talk to Ivy about what had happened and how she felt, but he also knew he had to tread lightly. His silence was his attempt at respecting her space. So he sat there, biting his tongue with a soft smile as she took his hand and kissed it. He tightened his grip around her as she nuzzled into him, quickly kissing the top of her head and doing his best to maintain some sense of normalcy. The only way out of this empty feeling was through, so he was prepared to weather this. He would do his best to be strong for both of them. However, the second Ivy sat up and said his name, his instincts told him to run. But there was nowhere to go. So he took a deep breath, pulled his hand out of hers, and reached over to his desk to grab the remote and pause the movie they were clearly not invested in. “Okay,” he responded quietly, feeling a knot form in his stomach as his heart rushed to put up its defenses once again, “we can talk. What do you want to say?”

IVY: AT HIS QUESTION, IVY FELL MUTE. what did she want to say? while she might not of actually spoke, her eyes did a whole lot of talking. there was a heavy sadness laced with a confusion that had never graced her lively blue hues prior to this moment. her mouth opened and closed a couple of different times to speak, but over and over she couldn’t gather her thoughts. the past week had blurred together in a nightmare of emotions and numbness tipping the scale in way or another. still silent, ivy brought her hand up to leo’s cheek with a certain longing and tenderness. her heart guiding her actions before she could even think about why she was making them. in the quiet ivy brought a hand to run through leo’s hair, as if for the last time. tears noticeably welled in her eyes. in a final movement, ivy scooted close to leo, pressing her forehead to his own as if getting their brains physically close would put them on the same page. at the action, the tears began to spill down her cheeks and ivy was in a place where she felt like she knew. “leo, i think that like. . . you are so great. . .” she began, still leading with her unpredictable heart. “and i love you like i’ve loved nothing or no one before. . .” these were unmistakably the beginnings of a break up speech. where ivy had gotten the idea this was the solution had come from a place deep within herself that her heart lead her towards. part of her wished she wasn’t crying and the room was lighter, so she could admire her boyfriend’s features for what she was beginning to think would be the final time unobscured by the glassiness of her eyes or the darkness of a room. “you are my first love.” ivy choked out, bringing shaking hands to either side of his face. she felt probably just as scared as he did the more and more her heart used her tongue to enact it’s will. “but this just like. . .” a sniffle, “i-i don’t know if this is like a good fit for us anymore.”after the words spilled out of her mouth, ivy knew there was no taking them back which resulted in her gasping and choking back sobs much like she had the last time her and leo opened themselves up to one another in his bed. she loved leo, there was no doubt about that, but being with him this past day was painful. their interactions were like navigating a minefield or a beach with far too many burs. it was difficult, and the effort no longer felt worth it. they had always struggled, but this didn’t feel like a bump they could get over without losing hold of one another. “i just. . .” ivy said, pulling her forehead away from leo’s and looking at him. a dull aching was added to the pile of other achings living in her chest currently. “i love you, i can’t tell you that enough this is just like . . .” she shook her head, grasping anywhere she could think of for a feeling that was indescribable. “awful, it’s so awful. i feel like, part of my soul has been totally torn from me.” ivy cried out to him, continuing on her near hysterical ramble. “and i just like look at you and it hurts me, leo. like it hurts.” she vocalized, before crying into her hands. her heart had brought her to this point with no warning and the weight of what she had been saying was clearly starting to settle. “and like i don’t want it to be like this, but it is, so like maybe it’s time to throw in the towel.”

LEO:  Leo had seen Ivy sad before, he’d even been the root of that sadness before, but he’d never been on the receiving end of this particular look. He felt himself crumbling under her stare. She was struggling to speak, but if he was being honest, she didn’t have to say anything. He could tell what was coming. As he watched her open and close her mouth time and time again, he felt himself wanting to speak too. But the words never came. Time slowed when she put a hand on his cheek, then ran another through his hair. What had once been a comfort now felt like wound. Leo could see her tears starting to form and almost instantly felt himself shutting down. He closed his eyes as Ivy pressed her forehead against his. He couldn’t look at her. When Ivy started to speak, all Leo could focus on was how dry his throat suddenly was. He couldn’t stop swallowing. He wanted so badly to reach up and touch her face and run his fingers through her hair and pull her close, but he was stone. No part of him could enjoy or bask in Ivy’s words because he knew there was an inevitable ‘but’ waiting for him at the end of her ‘I love you.’ His breathing became shallow as she let herself really start to cry and he was grateful for the darkness. The last thing he wanted was for Ivy to see him looking so dejected and lost. He couldn’t bear it.’You are my first love.’ Leo felt the skin on the back of his neck and the tips of his ears burning as he sat there, close to Ivy, listening to what felt like a goodbye. The memory of Ivy passing him a note backstage during RENT rehearsals intrusively entered his mind. He hadn’t known back then that Ivy St. James, some sophomore girl he’d only heard of and admired from a distance, was going to enter his life like a hurricane. He hadn’t known back then that one kiss by the lockers would turn into months and months of sleeping next to each other and sharing secrets and taking pictures and arguing over who got to control the music in the car. Leo kind of felt like he couldn’t breathe. When Ivy said what he knew she was going to say, he nodded slowly, still unable to speak. What was he supposed to say anyway? He should’ve seen this coming. People always left. Nothing good ever stayed. Even as she sobbed and gasped through her words, all Leo could do was stare. Had he known that pushing her towards the right decision regarding their unexpected pregnancy would result in this, maybe he would’ve done things differently. Maybe they could’ve had their baby. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad. But what use was it to dwell on that now? As Ivy pulled away from him and insisted again that she loved him, he found it in him to speak. “You can stop saying that.” It was curt and possibly cruel, but he felt powerless. He didn’t know what to do. If she really loved him, she wouldn’t be leaving him. If she really loved him, she would try to work this out. She would give them a chance, like he had time and time again when she had fucked up. As Ivy started rambling and crying harder than before into her hands, Leo was at a loss. He was burdened with guilt and with each passing statement, he knew he’d carry the weight of this feeling for the rest of his life. ’I just like look at you and it hurts me, Leo. Like it hurts.’ He’d never meant to cause her this much pain. “I’m sorry,” his words came out strained and hoarse, “I’m really fucking sorry.” This whole time he hadn’t moved. He remained sat in the same spot he had been when Ivy was cuddled into him and pressing their foreheads together. But suddenly he needed to move. He cleared his throat and got up quickly, headed straight for his doorway. He flipped the light switch so they were now illuminated. No more hiding in the darkness. For a long while he just stood there, one arm around his torso to hold himself together while the hand on his other arm covered the bottom half of his face. He stared at the ground as he tried to formalize his scattered thoughts.“You’re breaking my heart,” he mumbled, feeling choked up for the first time but quickly swallowing down those emotions and refusing to speak again until he had them in check. Earning Leo’s trust was a lot like pulling an elastic band. Ivy had pulled it and stretched it farther than anyone else had, but by deciding to throw in the towel, she had released the band and it had snapped back to where it started. All that progress—all for nothing. “I’m—“ I’m in love with you. Please don’t do this. Please don’t go. “not going to beg you to stay.” He sniffled, took a deep breath, and dropped his arms to his sides in defeat. “If you want to give up, then there’s nothing I can do.” He stepped aside a little, leaning back against the wall by his doorway and not so subtly unlocking the door. If she wanted to go, then she was free to go.

IVY:  IVY KNEW HER AND LEO WERE DRASTICALLY DIFFERENT. they were moon and sun, winter and summer, oil and water, but ivy liked that. she liked that they worked against all odds. but she certainly didn’t think her candid admission on this scale would be met with such a lack of reaction. she thought there would at least be some talking, some goodbye, not ‘im sorry’s’ or ‘stop saying that’s’. launched out of her excessive crying by anger, ivy followed leo out of bed and looked up at him. a dangerous look settled over her expression and in an instant her heartache about having broken up with leo was momentarily snuffed out by the fury his response had spurred. as he stood, covering half of his face in silence, ivy waited, seething until he dropped his arm. had their relationship meant nothing to him? how could leo say she was giving up when he wouldn’t even fight? guilt thickly coated her throat, leaving ivy speechless for a moment when leo insisted she was breaking his heart. it took her a moment to find her footing, but once she did, her blunt and brutal rage was unleashed. “speak like an adult leo, quit mumbling.” she demanded, cold. “i thought we were supposed to be mature?” ivy jabbed, though the tremors in her chin made it clear this outrage was rooted in a place of hurt. “i’m fucking sorry, too leo.” she continued, her voice raspy from all the crying, but her volume loud. not giving him time to respond, she continued, “i’m sorry that you’re a scared child who can’t even own up to his emotions and i’m sorry that i have always been open with someone who can’t even like articulate that he loves me one more time, and i’m so sorry for breaking your heart, but maybe, just maybe if you weren’t selfish about our future you wouldn’t have broken mine first!” any trace of tenderness was gone and the tears started coming once again in her angry rant about things that she wasn’t really sorry for. ivy rapidly tried to wipe her eyes, feeling like leo no longer deserved to see her cry. it was no use though and her anger rapidly took a turn towards a full meltdown. “i got an abortion for you and you can’t even have a mature break up with me?” ivy asked rhetorically through gritted teeth before adding, “fuck you, leo mccarthy. you broke my heart and i hope you’re miserable forever for it!” she cried out before pushing past him, up the steps, out of the basement, and eventually out of the house. though it was dramatic, ivy weirdly felt a weight off her chest the moment she crossed the threshold of the mccarthy home and ran to the haven that was her car. it was about a half an hour of crying and trying to uselessly make sense of what had happened before she even moved her car from being parked out front. part of her entertained the idea of giving another her a piece of her mind, another part toyed with forgiving him and making up, but the third part just hated him and wanted to be at home with her sister. so, once she got the tears under control, ivy started the car, and set her course for home, trying (and struggling) to leave her love for leo mccarthy behind her.

END

[caps-lockdown]

Sweater Weather Part Two

Here’s part two of this fun series. Full Steamy! Steve ahead!

Pairings: Steve Rogers x PottsRelativeFem!Reader

Ratings/Warnings: Hard R

For everything from language, crude jokes, ADULT situations/impure thoughts, booze (because it’s pretty much a staple in my fics at this point.), arguments, and an extremely overprotective Tony Stark. Very little angst, as I try to keep most of my fics light humored. But of course there are some insecurities/unsure feelings, as well as sad feels from everything with endgame/ the decimation. Also dead parents.

Also AU in the fact NO ONE DIED during Endgame/Steve didn’t go back. Also as much as I adore Morgan Stark, she isn’t around yet. I didn’t know where this would fit timeline wise, so just ignore the timeline. Kay? Cool.

Slow(ish) burn. Lots of pining

Words: 3,422

Summary: You’ve just moved to New York after a long 3 year stint travelling the world and helping with various charities, taking a new job with Stark Industries thanks to your cousin Pepper. A trip out to surprise Tony and The Avengers for the weekend turns from good to terrible when the a/c at the compound breaks. How will you beat the heat for the record breaking weekend?

Part two

“Toss me the salt will ya Short stack?” You lazily passed the salt to Tony who sat at your right of the dinner table, everyone digging into the massive roast chicken you and Pepper had made.

You had to admit the two of you were unstoppable in the kitchen. You danced around each other with ease, almost in a creepy silence save for the music you had picked out. You were positive it would have been awkward, getting back into small habits with your two closest family members but it had been like a warm hug instead. It was like you had never left. Conversations flowed easily and not just with Pepper and Tony, but the rest of the team as well. You found your sides hurting after laughing yourself silly due to Bucky and Sam’s married couple-esque bickering, not to mention Tony’s constant glares at Steve whenever he so much looked at you. You didn’t realize until you were halfway through your meal just how much you had missed everyone.

“You two should cook more often together, this food is incredible.” You smiled warmly at Thor’s compliment, Nat reaching to spoon another large portion of mashed potatoes onto her plate.

“I agree, you dames do pretty amazing work in the kitchen.” Bucky nodded at you, your heart swelling in pride.

“It’s all Pepper guys. I just follow instructions and hope she doesn’t stab me if I fuck up.” You nodded to your cousin, who chuckled in between bites.

“I’m just glad you’re back home where you belong Y/N. This table just wasn’t the same without you these last few years.” Tears threatened to prickle your eyes as she raised her wine glass up, the rest of the team following suit. “To Y/N!”

“To Y/N!” Everyone shouted, a large smile breaking out over your face as you sniffled away the tears of happiness away.

Dinner plates were soon cleared after that, the Avengers assembling in the kitchen for dish duty.

“I can help!” You tried moving past the walls that were Steve and Bucky, only to have them shake their heads at you.

“Not how this works Doll.” The captain smirked, his best friend giving you a light shove backwards.

“Yea Y/N. You cooked, we clean, no exceptions. Now go run along and get comfy, we’ll be in there to watch movies soon.” Bucky playfully wagged his finger, “You’re not gonna get past us, so don’t try it.” You threw your hands up in mock surrender, turning on your heel and slowly walking away.

You paused for a beat of time before running back at the two men full force, personally driven to get past them. Using your momentum you easily flung yourself to slide gracefully over the island countertop on their left, landing snugly between an impressed Tony and Natasha. You took the plate Stark had meant to hand his teammate with a smirk, grabbing the towel off of Nat’s shoulder and wiping it off before grabbing the other plates to take to the cabinet they belonged to. Sam couldn’t stop laughing as he offered you a high five for your efforts, the sound of your joined hands echoing throughout the kitchen.

“I thought you two were supposed to be super soldiers. Not super slow-pokes.” You jabbed, catching the dirty napkins Bruce tossed you with ease. Steve tried to hide his smile behind a very fake glare while Bucky clicked his teeth in your direction. “Dishes are done! Can we please go watch movies now?” You placed your hands on your hips as you stood again in front of the two large men. “Should I give you two time to move out of my way? Your old age and all I wouldn’t want you to break a hip.”

Steve deadpanned, not giving you a second to rethink your words as he effortlessly gripped your waist and promptly threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Your hands shooting to grip his strong back as you let out a high pitched squeal, everyone laughing while the blonde mountain took off in a quick gait down the hall. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire as he casually dropped you on the couch, his arms coming to rest on either side of your head. You subconsciously licked your lips as he moved to bring his face close to yours, his voice a mere whisper on your skin as you tried in vain to calm your breathing.

“I might be old but the only time I’d ever be slow is if I was alone with you Doll.”

Your eyes widened at his piercing blue ones taking in his bold statement, the loud voices coming into the room causing Steve to straighten up his stance. He offered you a wink before placing his hands in his pockets, looking completely normal and as if he hadn’t just gave you a heart attack.

“We’ve decided Y/N should pick the movie.” Nat clapped excitedly at you, your pulse lowering to normal as you swallowed hard at what just happened. Where the hell was the nice sweet Steve Rogers you had remembered from years ago? Why was he acting like his life goal was to ruin you for all other men? Not that you would mind in the slightest, but where was this behavior coming from? You didn’t recall seeing any Asgardian mead anywhere during dinner.

“Right um…how about The Princess Bride?”

“That’s a great pick Y/N! Bucky still hasn’t seen it.” Sam agreed brightly, the winter soldier nodding before taking a seat on the love seat to your left. You shook your head smiling as Tony rushed to sit next to you on the couch, sticking his tongue out at Steve. If you had blinked you were sure you’d miss the flash of disappointment in his features before he stalked off to sit next to Bucky. You felt bad for exactly two seconds before Pepper handed you a bowl of kettle corn, Bruce moving to put in the movie.

“It’s a shame Clint couldn’t be here. How’s he been?” You asked, stuffing a handful of popcorn into your mouth and handing the bowl to Tony.

“Probably busy making baby number four with Laura I imagine.” You snorted at the man sitting next to you, shaking your head as the movie started, Pepper telling F.R.I.D.A.Y to turn out the lights. You got sucked into the film instantly.

“I want to see my face shining in it by morning.” “As you wish.”

“WHATEVER YOU SAY JEN-NAY!” You shouted at the screen in a terrible Forrest Gump impression that had Sam laughing his ass off on the ground.

“The only comfort she found was in her daily ride.”

“Man I’d kill for a woman who rides daily.” Sam’s remark later had you in tears, reaching over to high five the man as the rest of the group chuckled. Tony wasn’t having any of it.

“Hey Waldolf and Statler? You mind? Trying to watch the movie here.” You made a lip zipping motion to your cousin, bringing your eyes back to the movie and eating more popcorn to keep quiet.

“So, did you lip lock with Y/N yet?” Bucky whispered to Steve, internally chuckling at how he kept stealing glances at you in the dark. You were too engrossed in the movie to pay attention to anything else, and he was beyond grateful the lights were out, your features only lit by the T.V screen.

“No Buck. I’m trying but she’s so perfect I don’t want to come on too strong. I mean it’s been a long time and..”

“Woah woah hang on a second!” Sam shot his head over to look up at the two men from the floor with a shocked expression. “You’re trying to land Y/N? Like Tony Stark’s cousin slash adopted sister Y/N?! How long have you carried a torch for this woman?”

“Too damn long.” Bucky’s echoing of Steve’s words from earlier rang in his ears as he proceeded to fill Sam in of their earlier conversation and bring him up to speed.

~~Earlier while you were prepping dinner with Pepper~~

“Let’s go Stevie, you and I are going to have some words.” Bucky grabbed the confused Captain by the elbow, not giving him any room to escape as he all but dragged him into an empty hallway, away from everyone else currently waiting for food to be finished. “What’s the deal with you and Y/N? And don’t try to lie to me. You’ve been watching her like she’s the end all to your existence. Spill.”

“I didn’t expect to see her Buck. She’s the last person I would have ever pegged on coming back to New York after everything.” Steve leaned against the wall of the hallway, smiling as he remembered what the two of you used to be like. “We were close once, back before I left to find you, back before everything went to hell. One of my biggest regrets in life has been not telling her how I feel. How she makes me feel.” The man sighed, running a hand through his hair at the sound of your laughter coming from the kitchen.

“I’ve never wanted anyone so bad in my entire life. I always hoped that maybe she’d come back, and maybe I could make up for lost time somehow. She’s incredible! So gorgeous even when she isn’t trying to be, funny, and wicked smart. She sucks the air right out of my lungs every time she even looks at me. She makes me feel like I’m going to die from an asthma attack. What’s worse is I wouldn’t even mind as long as I got to call her mine. Even if only for a moment.”

“That bad huh? Why don’t you just ask her out? Or just push her up against the wall and make her forget her own name?” Bucky asked, Steve’s upset gaze turning to the dining area.

“Easy. You know her cousin.” He sighed defeated, his best friend giving him a tight lipped smile before bringing his fist up and socking him in the arm. Hard.

“Bullshit Steve Rogers. Y/N is single, you’re single! Screw Tony!”

“I’d rather screw Y/N Buck, have you not been listening?” The admission made the winter soldier’s eyes damn near fall out of his head.

“Damn Stevie” The brunette chuckled, watching how flustered his friend became when Y/N poked her head into the hallway.

“Soup’s on gentlemen! Don’t make me wait!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it Doll. Smells great!” Steve called, looking at Bucky while the woman beamed and disappeared again from view. “You gotta help me man, She’s going to be here all weekend and I’m going to go crazy!”

“Then go crazy! You never know unless you try Rogers. She seems into you, so why not just go all in? How long have you carried a torch for her?”

“Too damn long.” Steve responded as they began their walk to the dining table.

Now

“So we’re gonna call this Mission Getting America’s ass a piece of Ass or Operation Raising America’s flagpole?” Sam asked out loud, Tony getting fed up with their talking and throwing a few kernels of popcorn at the men.

“Shh!!!!” Steve rolled his eyes as Stark shushed them loudly, his heart squeezing as he watched you smack your cousin’s arm, clearly not caring about their hushed tones.

“Man you had to pick Y/N? Dangerous waters man, respect. Count me in.”

“Yea Pal, we’ll help you avoid the overprotective ass so you can get closer to Y/N’s ass. No problem.” Steve smiled as his friend clapped him on the shoulder, only to get hit square in the back of the head with more popcorn. Turning his head to glare at Stark, he was surprised to see you holding the popcorn bowl, a playful scowl on your perfect face.

“Shhh!” You raised your finger to your lips, the men instantly shutting up so you could enjoy the rest of the film.

“I have no idea what’s going on.” Everyone laughed at Bucky’s statement, his confusion warranted by the sheer fact he hadn’t been paying attention the first hour and was consequentially lost. You jumped at the sudden sound of your cell phone interrupting the film, groans of frustration leaving everyone as you went to dig out the noisy device from your pocket.

“Shit. So sorry everyone!” Your face paled upon seeing you had four text messages from the same person calling you. Your best friend Kate. “I’ll be right back!” You looked apologetically to everyone while you scramble off the couch, catching the now empty bowl Tony had tossed you.

“With more popcorn Short Stack. First one up gets the snack refills.”

“Yea yea, keep your shirt on Snark.” You skipped out into the hall, pressing the green accept button and bringing the phone up to your ear. “HEY BOO THANG!”

“Don’t you fucking dare hey boo thang me Y/L/N. Take a wild guess where I am.”

“Um….Antarctica?” You tried, hearing your angry friend huff in annoyance as you re-entered the kitchen, trying to remember where Pepper had put the box of popcorn.

“Nice try smart ass. I’m in your apartment.” You stiffened, pulling the small box out of the cupboard and opening it.

“How’d you get in hoe?”

“You’ve kept the same hide-a-key gnome since college.”

“Right. What brings you by? I thought you were in Canada til Monday for a car meet?”

“It was a total drag. Cops showed up, handed almost everyone a VI, it’s no fun after that. I came back early, decided I’d surprise you with a welcome home pizza and some wine. I climbed SEVEN flights of stairs Y/N. SEVEN. You ignored my texts so I thought you fell asleep. BUT NO. So where the hell are you?!”

“Avengers compound. A/c is broken for the weekend so there’s a hundred percent chance of shirtless hot men.” You pulled your phone away at the sound of Kate’s loud girlish squealing.

“MY BAAAAAABE.” She screamed into the phone, you chuckling and placing a new bag into the microwave. Tony could learn to have some patience. “Steve is there isn’t he?! You gonna jump him?! PLEEEEEASE tell me you’re going to jump Steve Roger’s fine ass?!”

“I think he’s trying to jump mine Kate.” You quickly filled her in on the previous events from the day, her loud cheers and “My Girl”s spurring on your confidence. She was always your best hype woman, always in your corner and the best person at cheering you up. You guys had met in writing class during College, the two of you became thick as thieves by the semester’s end. She was the one that told you to get out after the Decimation, she could see how much you wanted to help. You let her take over writing for your article in the small paper you wrote for so you could jump on the first plane to the U.K, promising to give it back when you returned. You’d never tell anyone how happy she was when you told her you would not be coming back to the paper upon returning back to New York. She had thrived writing it, and you knew she didn’t want to give it up. You’d never stand in her way with something like that.

“SWEET JESUS THAT MAN! The thirst struggle is real as fuck huh Y/N?” Her voice snapped you out of your thoughts along with the loud beeping of the microwave. You tore the bag from the box and immediately dumped its contents into the bowl, throwing another bag in to heat up.

“I promise I’ll sneak ya some pics whenever I can. As an apology.”

“You dangerous bitch,” You laughed openly at that, watching the timer count down to avoid making any more noise. “I’ll let you go. Call me tomorrow?”

“Of course. Love you, bye.”

“Bye babe!” Her singsong voice ended the phone call, you putting it back in your pocket before shoving the second bag into the bowl and returning to the living area. You hadn’t missed too much of the movie, settling in again next to Tony and him wasting no time at taking the popcorn off your hands.

“You’re welcome.”

“Mphmph Thanks.” Stark muffled out, not even looking at you.

The movie ended a little while later and you glanced up at the clock on the wall. You had exactly six hours before the compound would start changing temperatures. Stretching your arms up over your head you smiled lightly at the sight of Pepper and Tony cuddled up together and asleep on the couch. It was sweet to see them together, no world saving or stressful missions to plan. Just them being them. You almost felt jealous in a way, wondering if you’d ever find that kind of relationship.

“Penny for your thoughts Y/N?” You blinked at Bucky as you came back to reality, shaking your head and offering a smile as he offered a hand to help you off the couch.

“I’m fine Bucky. Just happy to be back. I’ve missed everyone so much.” You gushed, taking his hand and standing on your feet. The rest of you walked away from the living area, into the long hallway to exchange goodnights and well wishes of sleep before hell hit in the morning.

“Can I walk you to your room Doll?” You smiled warmly at Steve as he offered his arm, you taking it and starting down the hallway together.

“I don’t know can you Rogers? Or would you prefer to carry me again?” Pride ghosted your features as a blush creeped over the blonde’s cheeks.

“Sorry about earlier, I shouldn’t have acted that way...” He started and you cut him off with a short laugh.

“Don’t be sorry Steve. I’m sure as hell not.” You shrugged, slowing your steps down as you neared the door to your room. “Which one’s yours?”

“Oh umh, well it’s this one.” He pointed to the door right next to yours and you let out another laugh.

“I see now, you were just walking me to my room because it was on the way.”

“Wrong. I just wanted to spend some time alone with you. I haven’t gotten you to myself for longer than a moment all day.” Steve muttered, you looking up at him with calculating eyes as he stared back at you.

“Well now that you have me, what will you do with me?” You challenged, his gaze going dark before he wrapped you up into a giant hug. You giggled as he seemed to melt into the embrace, you bringing your hands around his neck to pull him closer, snuggling into his shoulder and breathing in his scent.

“I’ve missed you Y/N. God I’ve missed this.” A blissful sigh escaped your mouth as he only hugged you tighter against his chest. You could hear his racing heartbeat under your cheek as you stood there, gripping onto one another seemingly for dear life. You had missed him too, more than you currently cared to admit at the present. You reluctantly pulled away from the amazing man when you heard a small cough behind you, finding an amused looking Natasha.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just waiting to get to my room.” The two of you sheepishly moved out of the way for the red head, her small smile and knowing wink causing your face to flush. “Goodnight you two, don’t stay up too late.”

“We should probably...” He started

“Call it a night.” You finished, looking at him with a small smile. “Keep your door unlocked? Just in case I have nightmares and need someone to snuggle with?” You baited, it having a clear affect on Steve as he huskily chuckled, bringing your knuckles to his lips. Your body sparked as his soft lips grazed them, your vision a bit blurry as he stared at you with those perfect blue eyes.

“As you wish.”

You thought you’d die right then, watching him smirk at your cheeks reddening before turning into his own room, giving you a quick once over with his eyes and shutting the door. Oh buddy if he wanted to be a tease, you’d show him who was the reigning champion. You quickly went into your room and changed into pajama’s, placing Mister Stuffins on the pillow next to you before drifting off to sleep easily. You couldn’t wait to wake up in the morning.

Tag List: @kaytizzle @cuffski @giggleberts @pies-wands-and-more @chrisevansfanfic

[trashforhockeyguys]

Can’t Help But Love You -4- Kasperi Kapanen

A/N: As always, all previous parts are linked in my Masterlist. Two more parts to go and I’m super excited. It’s also about to get even cheesier, so yeah that's fun.

“Here,” William said, nudging you with a big bag of gummy bears.

 “You are potentially my favorite person, William Nylander,” You grinned, taking the bag from him.

 “Just save a few for me, okay?”

 “Not likely,” You grinned, “I’m gonna go get a drink.”

 “Had I known that bribing you with gummy bears would work, I would’ve done this a long time ago,” he laughed, walking away from you, “Just don’t disappear on me!”

 You turned and flipped him off before roaming further into the house. Auston had invited the team and a few other friends over for what he claimed would be a barbeque. However, you weren’t entirely sure what would come of the night.

 Patty’s kids were already running wild with Mitch just behind them. Every now and again you’d have to dodge them and try not to spill your drink, or drop your big bag of gummy bears. Willy had come to find you a few times, mainly to check in on you and take some gummy bears. 

 But in the end you found yourself sitting in the corner of Auston’s yard, soaking up what little sun you could. William was inside, socializing with a few of the guys and their girlfriends. Mitch was still playing around with Patty’s kids, while one of them was passed out in Steph’s lap.

 You’d caught a glimpse of Kappy when he’d walked in, a tiny bottle blonde was following just behind him. That’s when you decided you needed another beer. Somehow, you’d neglected to think about the fact that Kappy would no doubt be here and that he just might bring someone with him.

You’d almost begged William not to make you come, just so you wouldn’t have to see Kappy. Now you wished you had, just so you wouldn’t have to see the girl hanging all over him. That sight alone was enough to make you want to vomit.

 A small part of you wanted to be jealous, he was supposed to be your Kappy. Only, he wasn’t. He never really was your Kappy. You kept reminding yourself that he didn’t love you, chances were he never did. He used you. But nothing you told yourself made it hurt any less.

 There was a time before you and Kappy had been like this. There was a time when you were just friends. Long before the two of you had even explored the idea of feelings. Back then you’d watched every game that you could, you’d watched the girls flock to him, you’d even laughed at all of them. Back then the two of you would play video games, and joke around nonstop. You never had to fight the urge to do anything over the lines of friendship.

 You took another swig of your drink as you pulled out your phone. You wanted something to distract you while you waited for Willy to finally be ready to leave. You were slowly starting to realize that you didn’t belong here anymore. William was over talking with his teammates, doing just fine without you, while Kappy had his friend hanging all over him. You weren’t needed, no one even noticed you were hiding in the corner. Would anyone even notice if you just left? Called an Uber and went back home?

 You started to seriously consider it. You could run a bath when you got back and pour a big glass of wine, maybe watch a movie or two. Really anything you could to take your mind off of the sight of Kappy and his….whoever she was. You had no right to be jealous, you knew that.

 You’d forced him away, but only because that was all you knew to do. You couldn’t face the fact that he didn’t even know, and you couldn’t tell him. After that night, you promised yourself that you’d never tell Kappy how you felt. It didn’t matter what would happen, you wouldn’t tell him. You couldn’t. Nothing would make you feel more humiliated than him finding out. It was never part of the deal, you were never supposed to fall in love with him, that line was never meant to be crossed.

 “I don’t think you’re supposed to be hiding in the corner,” Patrick Marleau said as he sat next to you.

 “Hey Patty,” You replied.

 “So, why are you hiding from Kappy?”

 “I’m not hiding from him,” You lied.

 “And you didn’t actually run away from him last week either,” Patty countered.

 “Jesus, do they tell you everything?” You questioned, finally looking over at him. 

 “Comes with being the team dad,” He shrugged, “So what’s going on? I haven’t known you long Y/N, but I’ve never not seen you with Kappy.”

 You shrugged and tried not to look over to where he was, “Things just changed I guess.”

 “I don’t buy that,” He stated, “Not with the way he’s been talking about you. He misses you.”

 “I highly doubt that. He seems to be doing just fine,” You admitted, “Besides, he let me go easy enough.”

 Patty shook his head and laughed a little, “You two are clueless about each other.”

 “Actually Patty, I think Kappy and I are pretty clear where we stand,” You snorted.

 “See that’s what he said, only after he cried for a few minutes,” Patty admitted, “I’m not trying to pry, or start anything Y/N, you know I love both of you like my own. But why can’t either of you just admit that you love each other? Everyone can see it but you two.”

 Shock set in, along with the intense stabbing feeling that you couldn’t shake. He didn’t love you. He couldn’t love you. You had to keep telling yourself that, it made what you were doing hurt less, and yet it also made it hurt more in some ways.

 You locked eyes with Kappy for a second, one second where you almost began to regret pushing him away. Until his newfound girl got frustrated that he wasn’t paying attention to her. She latched onto him and tugged on the collar of his shirt so he’d lean down to kiss her. You could tell he was more than annoyed that she’d interrupted him once again, but he still went along with it. The way that she clung onto him made you sick. Didn’t she know that there were children around? Or didn’t he care that this wasn’t some club, but his best friend’s backyard?

 “That’s not how you tell someone you love them,” Even you could hear the pain in your voice, “That’s how you very clearly tell someone you’ve moved on.”

 “Y/N he just-”

 “Patty, I appreciate it, but don’t make excuses for him. We both made our choice,” You pushed yourself up from the ground, “I need to go find Willy and let him know I’m headed out.”

 You drank the rest of whatever Steph had fixed for you hours ago and started to make your way through the house. You did everything you could to avoid Kappy, but there wasn’t another entrance into the house, so you had to go right by him.

 What made it worse was that his friend, wouldn’t move out of the way, so you had to go around and push passed Kappy. Your arms brushed, you tried to keep walking but for a split second you felt his hand grab your wrist, but he seemed to quickly rethink his decision. You pulled your arm away from him and cradled it to your chest. You forced yourself not to look back as you moved further into the house.

 Part of you almost wanted Kappy to follow you. You didn’t want to fight, that was the last thing you wanted to do. But this was the longest that you’d ever gone without talking to him. Even before you both lived in the same city, you talked almost every day.

 “Hey! Where are you running off to?” Auston questioned.

 “I’m sorry, I don’t know if I can stay,” Your eyes darted from Auston back over to Kappy, hoping he’d understand.

 “Fuck, I told him not to bring her,” Auston groaned, “but no, he had to act like a petty bitch.”

 Your lip started to wobble as you fought tears. It didn’t matter how many times you’d tell yourself that you weren’t going to cry, you always did. Most of the time though you could fight it until you got home, where you were alone and able to scream and throw things if needed.

 “Shit, c’mon,” Auston gently lead you down a hall and into a room, that you could only assume was his bedroom, “It’s okay. Really, he’s just being a dick.”

 “It’s not fair Auston,” You whimpered, “He’s the one that fucked all of this up, and yet I’m the one who has to pay for it.”

 He pulled you into his arms. Admittedly, you and Auston weren’t as close as you and Kappy, or you and Willy, but you knew that he’d still do anything for you. All of you were a strange sort of family, even if you were a little broken and messed up.

 “I don’t know what he did, but honestly I don’t care,” He told you, “You’re my family too, whether you like it or not.”

 “I shouldn’t be here Auston,” You told him, pulling away, “I don’t belong here.”

 “That’s bullshit,” he quickly said, “Did you not just hear me? You’re family, with or without Kappy.”

 “It doesn’t matter Auston, this is his team,” You explained, “I don’t want to mess with things for all of you. So I applicate it, and you, but I think I need to make myself scarce. I don’t want to fuck with his play, or the rest of the team.”

 “You won’t. Jesus the two of you are so difficult,” He groaned.

 You shrugged, “It’s probably because we’re too much alike.”

 “Yeah yeah,” he waved you off, “I know I won’t be able to talk you out of it, so just let Willy know before you take off. And please text me when you get back.”

 “Yeah I will.”

 “Y/N, I’m serious,” he warned.

 “Auston I said okay! Gosh, you don’t have to act like my mom,” You joked.

 “It’s because I love you dumbass,” he laughed, “You’re like another sister to me. So suck it up.”

 You laughed and hugged him again, instantly grateful for him. You’d underestimated Auston, he was normally the quiet one in the group, until he got a few drinks in him. But you’d never spent one on one time with him, due to the fact that you were always off with Willy and Kappy.

“Thank you Auston, really.”

 “If you want me to kick his ass, just say the word. The thing about us guys is, we can always work it out after, so long as we both get in a few good hits,” he half joked.

 You laughed and shoved his shoulder, knowing he was half serious. He dropped his arm around your shoulders and lead you back out to the living room. Kap was nowhere in sight, neither was his friend, but you knew they were still here. It was like you could feel it.

 You started laughing at something Auston said as the two of you made your way back. You didn’t have any trouble finding William, he hadn’t moved a foot. He was still talking with Freddie and Tyler Ennis.

 “Hey! Where’ve you been hiding?” Willy asked you.

 “Nowhere, I’m actually going to head out,” You admitted.

 “Of course you are,” he sighed, “When I get my hands on that stupid ass-”

 “Don’t worry about it Will. I’m just gonna lay low for a bit, let it all blow over,” You explained, “It’ll be fine.”

 “It’s not fair to you though,” Willy groaned.

 “I made my choices Will, and he made his,” You reminded him, “Now we both just have to figure out how to live with them.”

 He shook his head, “I’ll see you next week though, right?”

 “Lunch once a week, every week,” You reminded him, “Unless you have something better to do.”

 “Never, same time and place.”

 The months passed quickly. You went to a few games here and there, but you stopped hanging out in the box with everyone else. Instead you used your family friend’s seats, since they never went to games anymore. You didn’t go down to the tunnels to talk to the guys after the game either. Every now and again you’d go out with the group of all of the boys, but you and Kappy would avoid each other at all costs.

 It seemed like the lake house was a lifetime ago. Kappy moved on, someone new almost every time you saw him. Even you tried to move on, you’d been on a few dates here and there, but nothing seemed to feel right.

But you tried, and that seemed like the important thing. You were trying to move on with your life and figure out how it was going to work without Kappy in it. You and William got closer and closer, he was good about not talking about Kappy unless you brought him up. The same went for Auston.

 Although it still hurt, like a deep and painful ache in your chest, you were slowly getting better. You didn’t expect it to be Kappy every time your phone went off, nor did you expect it to be him at your door every time the bell rang. You didn’t look over your shoulder for him every time you heard your name. You weren’t afraid he’d see you when you went to games anymore. You were able to live your life again.

 Even if you still felt like you were missing a big piece of it.

 You hadn’t considered following the team on the road at all this season, but they were getting ready to go to New York to play the Islanders, which meant possibly getting to see Matt and Syd, who you missed more than you were willing to admit.

 Normally you wouldn’t even think of taking off extra time from work, but you had more than enough vacation time stored up, and an unused flight voucher from Christmas. You were itching to go, even though something in the back of your mind was telling you it was an awful idea.

 Yet, you couldn’t do anything to talk yourself out of it. Not as you booked the flights, and called Syd, and certainly not as you bought tickets to the one Broadway show you’d been dying to see. Not to mention this would be your only chance to see it before it closed on Broadway. You had to take the opportunity. Kappy be damned.

 “I brought food!” Willy announced, barging into your place.

 “Yeah sure, the door’s open, come on in William,” You mocked.

 “Get over it,” he joked, jumping on the couch next to you, “What’re you doing?”

 “Well, I just booked a flight to New York,” You told him,” You don’t think you could snag me some tickets to your game against the Islanders, do you?”

 “Wait, you’re coming to that?” You could hear the excitement without even having to look over at him.

 “Well I mean I have those plane tickets my mom gave me, and there’s a musical I want to go see before it closes on Broadway.”

 “Oh, is it that one you forced Auston and I to watch?” He questioned.

 “Yeah that one,” You laughed, “I just thought it be good, you know, get out of Toronto, see you guys play somewhere other than Scotiabank, I’d probably be one of the only ones in a leafs jersey but it’s okay.”

 “You’re really coming?” He questioned again.

 “Yes, I’m coming William,” You promised.

 “Well it’s about fucking time,” he laughed, “I missed having you follow us.”

 For a few minutes, you’d forgotten about Kappy. You did something without even really thinking about him, or what might happen as a result of your decision. You weren’t one for spur of the moment decisions, or doing things without planning. But this just felt right, almost like you were supposed to be doing this.

You began to scroll through Instagram. You managed to land on a picture of Kappy, with another girl hanging out in his lap. But for once, you didn’t feel the immense ache in your chest, or feel like you were going to be sick.

 You almost felt guilty. After all these years, you and Kappy were no longer. You never thought it would’ve come to this, yet looking back you didn’t see a way out of it. The two of you were like a candle, lit at both ends. Yet, even after all of it, you still couldn’t help but feel the slightest ping in your chest, you still couldn’t help but love him.

 “Yeah, I miss you guys too,” But even though you wouldn’t admit it, you missed Kappy above all. You’d always miss him.

[rhiannondeclermont]

Linda Thrombey-Drysdale

Rhiannon and Meg had gone to Boston while Ransom was doing his east coast book tour. Rex was with him so there wasn’t much to worry about. Between Meg and her they could handle the nearly three year old and the four month old that required so much of Rhiannon’s attention with Ransom missing that sometimes she just had to lock herself away in the bedroom and have a good cry. It was after a particular day when Meg had gone out to pick up their dinner that what she’d been expecting to happen did. 

“You will not believe who was there when I went to grab out food.” Meg said as she set the containers on the table. Royce sat in his highchair, watching his aunt as she fixed him a place and handed him his kid’s chopsticks.

“What?” Rhiannon asked as she settled Raegan against her shoulder. Meg was being too good to her as she fixed her a plate and broke her chopsticks for her. “You know you don’t have to do all this.”

“You have made my cousin do a complete 180, Rhi. Yes, I’m going to.. Especially since he’s busy with his book right now.” She finally settled in her own chair as she fixed her plate. “Linda was there.”

“Do what?”

“She was there. And she gave me a letter.”

“Ransom won’t read it.” Rhiannon shook her head as she began picking at her food. 

“It’s for you.” Meg bit her bottom lip looking at the woman. “She asked me to give it to you. I was going to throw it away, but she looked kind of desperate.. Not like she was needing money, but like she’d realized how badly she screwed up.”

“You’re too good, Meg.” Rhiannon smiled, knowing it had probably been hard on her to see it. Whereas if it had been her mother, she probably would have pretended she didn’t exist. “Once we get the kids down for their nap, I’ll at least humor her with reading it.”

And when they finally did, she disappeared into the room that Marcus had claimed as his office - not that it had seen use since he moved to France with the rest of the family. She settled into the chair, using the letter opener to rip the envelope open. She had to give Linda something, her handwriting was beautiful. The leather chair enveloped her as she read. 

“Rhiannon,

I don’t deserve to ask any of this from you after how I’ve treated you. Seeing you with my son… Seeing him happy in a way that I had never seen before was startling. And finding out that not only were you married to one another, but expecting. 

No amount of apologies could make up for what I’ve done. Even the thought of apologizing to Ransom seems as if it would never make up for so many years of ignorance. I thought I was doing right by him, to give him everything. But I realize now that all I did was teach him that money fixes everything when it doesn’t. 

But with you… He’s a completely different person. He’s become the man that I had always hoped he would be, in no thanks to myself. You’ve done what I could never do. 

I know by now that you two have two littles ones. I’ve seen the few photos that have been released to the press and they are perfect, beautiful like their mother and father. I was hoping that, if you felt comfortable, I could meet my grandchildren. If not, then I understand. I don’t really deserve to after that day in the restaurant.

Nothing I say will ever change that day. And I hate myself for it. But if possible, give my office a call and we can set something up. If not, then that is fine.

Sincerely, Linda”

Rhiannon read it over and over again. Linda was asking for a second chance. And she’d promised Ransom that she wouldn’t do this until he was ready. From everything they’d talked about, he wasn’t ready. But what was she supposed to do? Go behind his back? She picked up her cellphone, calling him even though she knew this wasn’t going to go well.

“Hey, babe.” His voice was like honey to her ears. “How are the beans?”

“They’re good. They’re piled up with Meg watching a movie right now.” She answered staring at the letter. “She ran into your mother today when she went to pick up dinner.”

“And what did my darling mother have to say?”

“She gave her a letter to give to me.” Rhiannon continued, biting her bottom lip.

“Burn it.”

“Too late.” She was going to regret this. One day she would. But right now, they needed to address this. “I’ve already opened it and read it.”

“And what does she want?”

“To meet her grandchildren. But at our discretion… Well my discretion. I suppose she thought that I wouldn’t bring you into the conversation.” She sighed, folding the letter up and stuffing it back in the envelope. “Ransom, I know we said no. I’m not asking you to reconsider.”

“Then why are you calling me about this?” He asked, sounding almost angry at her. 

“I want to meet with her. Just me. I want to talk to her, to see if she really has learned her lesson.” She answered, sighing. “Baby, I hate what she’s done to you. The more we unearth in your therapy, the more I want to make her feel like the dirt she is. But, I need to know. I need to know we’re still doing the right thing.”

“Are you asking for my blessing?” He returned, and she could feel the anger now.

“Yes. And if you say no, then I’ll throw the letter away and never bring it up.” She needed to know he was okay with at least her checking this out.

“Baby, I don’t trust her.” He was defeated though, knowing she’d go ahead and do it anyways. “Go on. Meet with her. But don’t trust her.”

“I won’t, Ran. Call me if you need me. I’ll cancel and come to you. Meg can handle the kids.”

“No she won’t. Raegan is still breastfeeding.”

“And I have plenty of milk for her here. I’ll come if you need me.” She was regretting bringing this to him, but she also needed him to know without her doing this behind his back. “I love you, Ransom.”

“I love you, too. I’ll see you in Boston in a few days, okay?”

“Okay.” She smiled now, relaxing as they said their goodbyes and hung up. She waited until Linda’s reality office was closed before calling and leaving her a voicemail. She told her to meet her at the restaurant where they’d ran into her the last time. It was public enough that if it didn’t go well, then she wouldn’t be worried about Linda trying to turn it on her.

Rhiannon was early, sipping quietly at a glass of wine. It would mean dumping what she pumped later, but it was worth it for the moment of escape. Linda arrived on time, settling herself across from her.

“I didn’t think you’d want to meet with me.” Linda spoke first, looking over the blonde. “Motherhood looks good on you.”

“Thank you, Linda.” Rhiannon answered looking at her. “I would say it’s nice to see you, but…”

“Under the circumstances of last time, I can’t blame you. I won’t even try to begin to apologize for how I acted.” Linda hadn’t even reached for the menu. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m always hungry. Growing to tiny people and then breastfeeding them makes me hungry.” Rhiannon picked her menu up, glossing over it for a moment. “Why now?”

“Because I wanted to respect my son’s wishes for once in his life.” She could tell Linda actually meant it. “If neither of you want me to be part of their lives, then so be it… But I had to try. I’m not saying that I’ve changed enough to be around them. But I’ve realized what I’ve done wrong with Ransom… The touch starvation…”

“Trust me, that’s the least you’ve done to him.” She answered looking at the woman. “Linda, he’s in therapy. He’s been dealing with so much of the stuff you have done to him… I can’t dress our daughter in the color yellow because of you. Yellow. Because of the closet you used to stuff him in as a child.” 

Linda’s face changed instantly when she heard the words come out of Rhiannon’s mouth. It was as if she’d broken her again. It made her remember the day it had first happened when she’d seen them there at the restaurant. 

“This was a bad idea then. Considering all the trauma I put him through…”

“Linda, that doesn’t mean we’re going to say no.” Rhiannon watched as she stood. “Sit back down so we can talk. Or it will be a no.”

Linda sat back down, looking her in the eye. She now knew exactly why Rhiannon was perfect for Ransom. 

“I understand that you’re feeling bad about this, Linda. But feeling bad about it isn’t going to get you anywhere near your grandchildren. They have a grandmother who loves them. They have a multitude of uncles who would probably prefer I never let you into their lives. Their father didn’t even want me meeting with you because he doesn’t trust you.” She was angry as she stared at her mother-in-law. “You reached out for some reason.”

“I know that I can’t apologize for what I did.” Linda was nervous, and she knew it was obvious. “I just want the opportunity to know my grandchildren. Even if they never call me grandmother. I would like to be in their lives in whatever way you or Ransom will let me.”

Rhiannon believed her. She knew that Linda had realized that she’d done something wrong and she was starting to realize that it had larger consequences than she was ready to give up.

“I’ll have to talk to Ransom about it. I can’t promise anything, Linda.”

“I know. And I’ll do whatever you two want to earn this.” She was desperate at this point. “Please, Rhiannon?”

“I’ll talk to Ransom when he comes home from his book tour.” Book three had recently been released and he was busy promoting it. “Would you like to see pictures of them?”

“You don’t…”

It was too late as Rhiannon pulled her phone out, quickly moving to the photos section. Since Royce’s birth, her phone was constantly filled with pictures of Ransom and their children. She handed it to Linda, watching her flip through the photos.

“That was the day we told Royce he was going to be a big brother. He wasn’t very happy with that.” She smiled, reminded of how sad he had been that day when they’d told him. Linda flipped to a video next. As it played, Royce was sitting next to her in bed, his little sister slightly lying on his lap. Meg was filming as Ransom came over to pick their daughter up. Royce shooed him away though, protective of his little sister. “Now it’s hard to separate the two of them.”

“Ransom was supposed to have a sister.” Linda spoke softly, looking through the pictures. “I lost her when I was around five months along… He was young so he wouldn’t remember. I’m not saying that’s why…. Why all of this happened….”

“Linda, some people aren’t meant to be parents. But I will have to say despite everything, Ransom is a very good man. I don’t know what any of you had to do with that… But I am grateful.” Rhiannon looked at Linda. 

“I owe you an apology for what I said… What I insinuated when I saw you two here before…. I wish I hadn’t. I wish I had given you a chance.”

“Then let’s start over.” She offered a soft smile. “I can’t promise that Ransom will be okay with you seeing the kids.. But we can try to change that.”

“I would like that, Rhiannon.” Linda smiled back at the blonde. “What is Royce like?”

The two ended up spending a solid two hours as Rhiannon told her about Royce and Raegan, showing her pictures.

@magickisafoot​ 

[sunnyfitzherbert]

This Magic Moment | Sunmack

Who: @lerouxmack & @sunnyfitzherbert

When: During the magic barrier break. 

Where: 1162 Wizard Way

What: Mack invites Sunny over to discuss business, but with the magic barrier broken and availability to her powers, she has other things on her mind. 

Mack had a great idea for the band's marketing, an idea so good that it just couldn't wait, so he texted Sunny asking her to meet at his cottage ASAP. He figured she'd respond quickly thinking it was an emergency because never before had he even implied he wanted to hang out with her alone for any reason. After their somewhat awkward movie night, Mack had actually been avoiding her as much as possible. Hard to do when she makes up 1/3 of the friend group he'd somehow gotten dragged into. That wasn't fair- he liked both Gerti and Sunny- but Sunny gave him major crazy vibes sometimes and he just didn't know how to handle it solo yet. He waited by the door, ready to answer at first knock, and he did as soon as he heard the light rapping of Sunny's fist on the door. He opened it quickly and pulled her inside, "Sun," He started. A nickname. That was new and weird, but he was on such an idea high it didn't stop him. "Imagine this, okay? All our social go dark for like a week, like we delete everything from all our personal Instagrams and the band's, okay? Then we start dropping hints about playing a secret show, but we make it like one huge scavenger hunt or something. What do you think?" He finished, taking a deep breath in to recover from the almost minute he hadn't been breathing. He wring his hands together, watching her, waiting for her response.

Sunny had been dealing with this magic barrier thing to the best of her ability. Walt had kind of always been a place where she didn’t have to worry about her powers, or even think of them, because back home she tried to use them as much as possible without getting caught. But here? With no mother in sight to stop her? It was proving as difficult as it was for her dad to stop stealing, she was certain. So when Mack invited her over, she really had to remind herself of her mother’s words — “You use your charm for good. Not anything else.” So she wouldn’t be charming Mack tonight, that would be bad and totally against her mother’s wishes. As soon as Mack opened the door, though, and called her ‘Sun’.....Well, she was being tested for sure. And even more so when he started raving about this totally brilliant social media blackout idea. “What do I think?” she began with a scoff. “I think I’m fired, take my job!” She laughed, pretending to slough all of her nonexistent work attire into him. “But really, that’s completely brilliant. Would this be before the battle or after? Or — ooh! In between weekends since there’s no way you guys are getting eliminated first?” She smirked. See? She could be charming without her powers.

Mack could feel Sunny’s excitement over his idea, and it made him feel super smart. He normally didn’t show this much emotion for anything, let alone a marketing idea for their band, but he was definitely riding a sugar high right now as evidenced by the wrappers that didn’t quite make it in laying next to the kitchen trash can. “In between weekends is perfect,” He confirmed, starting to pace back and forth as his mind raced. “We just need a venue, and I guess we can use whatever merch we don’t sell the first weekend of Battle of the Bands. I have to get with Gerti for a set list...maybe some unreleased songs we aren’t doing at either weekend? Shit, I guess I have to text her.” He started to feel around in his pockets for his phone, coming up empty handed. “I guess I left it somewhere,” He mumbled, looking around the foyer, not seeing it. “Let me check my room. Make yourself at home.” He held up a finger signaling Sunny to give him a minute before turning to go search for his phone in his room.

Sunny could feel the vibes going on between them. Maybe she was wrong and he had just eaten too many candy bars or whatever, but her fingertips tingled and her cheeks were flushed and he seemed happier in her presence now than he ever had before...That had to have been a sign. But then he mentioned Gerti and she wished that just once her friend wouldn’t come up. Sunny rolled her eyes subtly, and started discreetly humming her incantation. “You don’t need to get your phone,” she said nonchalantly. “Stay here, we can work through a set list.” She sat on the couch and patted the seat next to her. “So obviously, Rocket Launcher. It’s a crowd favorite. Which ones aren’t you guys doing for either weekend?” Okay, so maybe she wasn’t using her powers for active ‘good’ right now, but it also wasn’t actively bad. Right?

Mack: Mack was just about to reach his bedroom door when he stopped, feeling almost like he’d forgotten what he was about to do. He stared into his doorway for a moment, confused, before turning around and joining Sunny on the couch. “I guess I’ll just tell her later,” He mumbled, shaking his head to try and clear whatever fog he was experiencing. Crash from the sugar high maybe? He sat next to Sunny, leaning back and draping an arm across the back of the couch. He nodded, “Yeah, totally. We can probably close with that one.” He thought through all the songs he and Gerti had written, trying to come up with some more obscure ones. “We’ve never played TV Lights anywhere, or Pea Soup. I don’t think we’re playing them at the competition either. Oh, there’s also...” He trailed off, instantly regretting bringing up the song he was currently in the middle of writing. “Never mind, it’s still a work in progress. I haven’t actually played it for anyone yet so I don’t think we could do it for either thing.” He brushed it off, turning away from Sunny to reach for a hidden Laffy Taffy in his book bag sitting on the floor. “Can you think of anything else?” He asked, popping it in his mouth.

Sunny tried to seem as normal as possible as Mack bent to her will. She had to admit that, while it was super shady of her to be purposefully excluding her BFF from this, she’d missed getting to charm people like this. And this was harmless! Just making sure that she and Mack got some alone time, was all. “Yeah, Pea Soup isn’t really competition material but super fun for a secret venue,” she agreed as she noticed Mack start to mention a song and then brush it off. “Wait, there’s something I haven’t heard?” She grinned widely and placed a throw pillow in her lap, getting as cozy as possible. “Play it for me! I can judge. Besides, Gerti’s a super fast learner.” She tugged at her earlobe and hummed, hoping he didn’t notice the faint glow in her hair as her powers came into effect.

Mack instantly regretted bringing the new song he was working on up. It was nowhere near ready, and honestly, he was probably going to just embarrass himself by playing it but he’d thrown it out there and now he felt compelled to play it for her. He looked like he was debating for a moment, then finally got up to grab his guitar. He threw the strap over his shoulder and took one last look at Sunny as if to apologize in advance to her then started playing. It was a simple melody, nothing fancy, just melodic enough to be pleasing to the ear with a few flats and sharps thrown in for fun. He started singing as softly as he could, fully aware of the intimacy performing for one person brought. The lyrics, half finished at some points, were about an idyllic relationship Mack didn’t have but figured he might one day so it was fine to write about it prematurely. As he came to a close, he played one last chord then stopped the strings with his hand quickly. He avoided eye contact with Sunny as he removed his guitar from his body and set it down. “Like I said it’s not done, but there it is,” He said, dancing around the question of what she thought of it.

Sunny watched him get into the groove of his song, and watching Mack be so cute and nervous combined with the sweetness of the lyrics...well, if she hadn’t been 100% sure about her crush already, that would’ve solidified it. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth until he finished, and when he finally put the guitar away, she couldn’t help but give a small round of applause. “Wow,” Sunny breathed, “Whoever that is about is such a lucky girl.” She shrugged, not necessarily wanting to charm him into telling her lies or anything. That was kind of where she drew the line. Though, there were some lines in that song that made her wonder. “Was it about anyone...or anything in particular?” she asked genuinely.

Mack reached for another hidden candy and chewed on it nervously. What was he supposed to tell Sunny? He just made up lyrics about something, or someone, that didn't exist? That would be the lamest shit ever, so he thought of a way to evade the truth without telling an outright lie, "It's just some girl. We're not super close or anything, but that's how I imagine it would be if we were. She doesn't know, though and I'm not planning on it getting out anytime soon, but she's cool. Cooler than previously thought." Okay - Mack thought - this was spiraling. Thinking it better to quit while he was ahead, he shut up. Peeking one last look at Sunny to see if she bought it before picking up his notebook to jot down some notes for the secret event planning.

Sunny cocked a brow. Not to claim that the guy she liked was a total loser or anything, but he did only know two girls that weren’t his sister or her friends. So unless Mack was secretly coveting a Fierce Five girl, the only two options were herself and Gerti. But he was being so vague that it almost sounded like a lie. Sunny felt her heartbeat quicken. He was totally talking about her. “Well, she’d be pretty dumb to not fall completely head over heels for you,” Sunny shrugged, trying not to come on too strong before she made her move. “What if she felt the same way? What would you do?” She hummed her incantation under her breath, just to take the tension out of the air so he wouldn’t let his nerves get in the way. Nothing major or anything, just a little something to keep everyone in the room...honest.

Mack swallowed his candy a little too early, halfway choking on it as it went down his throat. This conversation was getting a little too friendly for him, to say the least. He was about to tell Sunny to just drop it when his nervousness suddenly faded. Why had he been so scared before? He felt like he could tell Sunny anything, maybe even more so than he did with Gerti or his own sister. “I don’t know,” He answered honestly, “I’ve never really been in that position. Before this band I don’t think anyone really considered me to be the ‘Hot Boy’,” He laughed, “I know one thing for sure, though. I would not take her home to meet my mother. We all saw how that went for Molly and Ned.” He ran a hand through his hair, thinking some more. “Other than that? I guess write more songs about her.”

Sunny cocked a brow as Mack rambled on. Weird to compare her to Ned since she was royal, but she shrugged it off. She’d ask questions later. “Before this band, I definitely considered you the ‘Hot Boy’,” she admitted with a shrug as she moved in closer to him. “But hey — “ Sunny clutched Mack by the collar and pulled him in for the most long-anticipated kiss of her life. Wow, this was really happening! She did it. She got the guy — and this is why she should have always been able to use these powers, Mom. She pulled away and ran her tongue over her lips. “There’s something you can write a song about. You’re welcome.”

Mack was shocked when Sunny admitted she'd found him hot. He didn't think they were at THAT level of friendship yet. He could've said it back, it wasn't like Sunny was ugly or anything, but before he even had the chance to accept the compliment Sunny's lips were on his. He didn'y even fully register what was happening until she pulled away, presuming that he should be thanking her. He stared at her for a minute, trying to figure out what to say. "Um, what?" He asked incredulously. "What?" He repeated, standing up and running a hand through his hair. "What?!" He repeated once more for emphasis, turning to face her. "What just happened?" He was trying to wrap his head around the fact that Sunny had just kissed him, but it wasn't working. "Why did you just do that?"

Sunny had expected some level of shock from Mack. After all, she had just taken initiative and made both of their dreams come true. That had to be surprising. But what she didn't expect was the amount of terror in his expression. Oh no. Rather than talk this through or answer any of his questions or even face the possibility that she'd read his signs wrong, she hummed -- hurriedly, maybe the fastest she'd ever hummed before. Her tresses glowed, and she looked Mack in the eyes. "You're okay. It's alright, we can talk about this some other time," she nodded to him, praying that he nodded back. Sometimes when she was nervous, her persuasion faltered a bit, but she needed it to work right this second. It would've been so easy to make him believe he'd enjoyed the kiss, but that was just so slimy. She couldn't bring herself to do it. She just needed to go. "I'll go now, and we can talk about this later." She gulped, clutching her coat to her chest. "I had a really nice time though." Sunny plastered on a grin, and very selfishly, she clutched Mack's shoulder and placed one last, chaste kiss on his cheek. She had to savor this while she could, before the consequences of her actions caught up to her. "I'll see you at the competition -- if it happens," she shrugged as she ducked out of the cottage to catch her breath. Shit. If she hadn't been the girl he was talking about, then who was it? No time to think about that. She had to start brainstorming damage control.

[sprnklersplashes]

shot through the heart

trigger warning for mentions of blood and injury. 

Also this is about Emma and Hope, not mentioning any partner for Emma, so it’s open to any and all shippers and fans :)

But it does take place in my universe where Rumple died, Belle moved in with Emma and the s7 time travel thing just... did not happen.

Hope’s never been in a battle before. She’s seen them more times than she would care to count; in her family’s storybook, in her history books, in paintings on gallery walls. All different and varied across history and between realms, some fought by her immediate family like the Battle For Neverland as it’s now called, and some between whole kingdoms. She’s never cared much for them, not even the ones her parents fought in, and skipped past them, knowing, or thinking she knew, that she’d never have to be in one.

And now here she stands, sword in one hand and magic cracking below the skin of the other, running down Main Street with blood rushing in her ears. It’s not like the paintings or pictures in her book where the hero stands triumphantly over the defeated villain, it’s hell on the streets. People she’s grown up with run past her without giving her a moment’s notice, most if not all holding some sort of weapon in their hands. She’s vaguely aware of them but couldn’t recognise their faces if she tried, not even her closest friends. Everything around her blurs and melts away, only leaving focus on the road ahead of her. Her ears are attacked with an unholy symphony of screams and cries and swords clashing and weapons being fired, the sounds coming together into one agonising noise, each one becoming indistinguishable from the other. She’s not stupid, she knows that battles and wars are far from valiant and mighty and all that crap. But she never thought that, even if she did fight in one, it would be with tear-streaked cheeks and the taste of vomit in her throat. The worst by far is the blood on her hands and blade.

“Mom?” She slows to a jog and tries to force her weary eyes to focus, but the ringing in her head only makes it harder. “Mom?! Henry? Mom!” She stumbles back into a little, holding her sword tighter. She pushes an escaped lock of hair out of her face, trying to search the endless sea of faces, the enemy only marked by their silver armour. “Mom?”

She’s about to let out a sob when something hits her. At first there’s almost no feeling to it, other than the weight hitting her stomach and pushing her back and her mind immediately goes to magic. Until her hand goes to that spot reflexively and she finds it wet; something warm and thick drips between her fingers.

It’s only when she sees the scarlet substance across her palm that the pain hits her, knocking her to her knees and making her hit the floor.

And holy shit, does it hurt.

                                                                                                                     *****

No. No, no, no, no, no. No!

Emma’s had her fair share of moments that made her blood run cold, beginning even before she came to Storybrooke. Her life sometimes feels like it was a series of horror movie moments from sleeping on the streets in a rainstorm to being thrown in front of a car to giving birth in jail. Then add Storybrooke and magic and you’ve got enough to make someone need a good therapist (or in her world, Archie). She’s seen shit that should have send her flying back, but she’s somewhat proud of how she stood back up, even after Dark Ones and curses and several close calls with death.

But none of those could prepare her for this.

She pulls her daughter into her lap, brushing her hair away from her face and wincing at how cold her cheeks are. She’s always been pale ever since she was a kid, but now she’s practically translucent, courtesy of the arrow sticking out of her stomach, its silver tip winking cruelly at her in the setting sun. Bile rises in Emma’s throat. This arrow, like the rest in the White Witch’s army, are enchanted against Misthaven’s magic. Her hands can burn down forests and melt glaciers but snow they sit limp and useless when it comes to fixing her daughter.

“Mom?” Her voice is tiny, so unlike the bright laughter or deadpan snark she’s grown used to filling her house. Her green eyes look up at her, hazy and unfocussed. “Mommy?” She hasn’t called her mommy since she was five.

“I’m here, baby,” she whispers, stroking her hair. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you it’s okay.” Hope gasps a little and a tear leaks out of her eye.

“Mom… it hurts,” she grunts. “It hurts so bad.” Such a blunt admission from the girl who faced life with as much dramatics as possible made Emma choke on her tears, but it also brought her back to the situation at hand.

“I know, baby girl.” She wonders how long it’s been since she called her that. Not since she wore tutus and carried her stuffed duck around at all times, she knows that much. “I know, honey. Just hang in there.” She wraps her arms around her daughter, cursing at herself. What Hope needs is a pillar of strength right now, not trembling arms and shaking breaths.

Emma looks around her, surveying the battlefield one last time. She looks up just in time to watch Robyn send an arrow into the chest of the man who felled Hope, making it look effortless. She’s her father’s daughter. The young archer turns around and does a double take at the sight of Hope’s prone form, at the blood blooming across her white top. Emma sees the words “oh my god” form on her lips as she runs towards them and drops to her knees and remembers with a wince that she’s hardly much older than Hope is.

“I’ll hold it down here,” she tells her, shouting over the chaos of the battlefield. “Alice has the front line. Lucas and I can keep it up back here.” Her eyes move to Hope, wide and fearful, and Emma sees her hold back from gagging at the sight of the blood. Hope doesn’t acknowledge her, if she even has the energy to see her at all.

“Thank you, Robyn,” she says, grabbing her hand tightly.

“Don’t even thank me,” she says. “Just go. Thank me when this one’s on her feet again.” Emma nods, enveloping them in white smoke just as tears begin to blur her vision.

She finds herself outside Storybrooke General, the protection spell Alice placed around it preventing anyone, friend or foe, from entering magically. Hope lets out a pained groan on impact, the change in position no doubt angering her already nasty wound.

“I’m sorry, baby.” She presses a kiss to her head before kicking the door open and storming inside, her daughter’s head resting against her shoulder. “Help! Help!” Memories of running into this same hospital with a different child flicker up in her mind, past and present colliding.

Gideon comes flying down the hall, his stride faltering only when he catches sight of his almost-sister limp and half-unconscious in her mother’s arms. Having grown up in the same house, they’re siblings in all but blood.

“Holy crap,” he gasps, meeting Emma in the foyer and taking a moment to stroke Hope’s head. “What happened to her?”

“There’s an arrow… in my stomach…” Hope whispers, her voice thin and pained, but it’s there and Emma could cry. “What do you think happened?”

“Save your breath, baby,” she tells her, but there’s a spark of hope in her chest. If Hope’s aware enough to recognise Gideon and be sarcastic, maybe it’s not as bad as it looks, even with the blood staining the floor and Hope’s short, laboured, desperate breaths filling the silence.

“Get a stretcher in here, now!” Gideon barks down the hall and two dwarves appear with one almost instantly. Emma helps lay Hope on it and Hope’s ice cold hand clings to hers. Gideon assesses the damage while the dwarves pull the stretcher down the hall, his shaking hands the only thing that betray his calm demeanour. “Magic isn’t going to work on this one. Get her into that operating room and get Whale, now. We’re going to need anaesthetic, a fuckton of bandages and antibiotics, just in case.” One of the dwarves, Sneezy, she thinks vaguely, nods and runs down the hall.

“Emma, I’m going to need you to wait out here,” Gideon continues.

“Like hell, that’s my daughter,” Emma replies sternly, her hand tightening around Hope’s.

“Yes, I know. But we can’t have a civilian-”

“I’m not a civilian.”

“Someone who isn’t on the medical team in that operating room,” he finishes. “I’m sorry Emma but you need to stay out here!”

“No, she needs me!”

“What she needs is to get better,” Gideon tells her, looking down at Hope. She didn’t even flinch at his voice. Guilt and regret cross his face, unusual for a Stiltskin, but he’s also half French and that’s the part of him that makes him a godsend in the hospital. “Emma… we’re going to do everything we can for her. But in there…. You can’t be in there, Emma. I’m sorry.”

Emma looks down at Hope. She looks so much like her grandmother, her black hair spread across the pillow and her skin as white as… well, as snow. Tears run down her cheeks as she realises Gideon’s right, of course. She’s about as useful in a medical room as a jelly pickaxe. Her family takes the battlefield, Belle’s takes the hospital. It’s right, but that doesn’t make it any less hard.

“Okay,” she whispers. “Okay.” Gideon pats her shoulder and it’s hard to believe he’s the same man who tried to kill her, albeit not of his own will. Not that he remembers any of that.

Emma kisses Hope’s knuckles and then her head, hoping against hope that True Love’s Kiss works on arrow wounds.

“I love you,” she whispers, stroking her pale cheek.

“I’ll call you the minute we’re finished,” Gideon promises. Emma nods, knowing to trust a French, and watches him wheel Hope away. She wants to call after him and beg him to take care of her, but she knows he will. There’s five people in the world who love Hope as much as she does and Gideon’s one of them.

“Mom?” And there’s another one. When Emma turns, Henry is behind her, half a roll of bandages in his hand. He decided that his skills, like Gideon’s, are better employed here. And since his wife is out on the battlefield with her step sisters, he can keep an eye on Lucy here. Henry opens and closes his mouth, his eyes wide. “Mom what happened-”

“Hope,” she says, and his face falls instantly. She takes a deep breath before continuing, shoulders back, chin up. She straightens her jacket. Her parents might have fought in chainmail and capes, but she’s fought every battle, emotional and physical, real and fairytale, in this jacket. “She got hurt.”

“Hurt?” he echoes. “How badly, what happened, where is she, is she okay?”

“One question at a time kid,” she replies, her voice catching. “She got hit with an arrow. Gideon took her a minute ago. She’s in good hands. She’s…” She’s going to be okay. She’ll be fine. Those words don’t quite cross her lips though.

“Oh my God.” Emma throws her arms around him just as his knees start to buckle. When his arms come around her too, she melts into it, not realising how much she needed this until now. He’s shaking against her, clinging to her like she’s a stuffed toy.

“She’s going to be okay,” she finally says. Despite the hope she’s trying to hold onto, the words feel clumsy and wrong in her mouth. She hates uncertainties, especially ones like this. “They’ve got Whale and Gideon in there with her and they’re the best we have.” She tries to flash a weak smile and wonders if Henry can see the lack of heart behind it. “If anyone can save her, Dr Frankenstein can.”

“Yeah.” Henry smiles against her hand on his cheek despite the tears shining in his eyes.

“Dad?” Lucy comes running down the room towards them, her dark hair flying behind her. Emma can’t help but find the hasty smile on her son’s face intimately familiar. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail and, like her father, she wears a white coat over her clothes. “Dad, there’s more people coming in.”

“I’ll be right there, kid.” Lucy nods and looks over at Emma, realisation dawning on her as she takes in her red eyes and blood-stained fingertips, and she looks over at her father.

“Dad?” she asks, her voice small. “Dad what’s going on?”

“Just checking what’s happening out there,” he says. “Come on, Luce, let’s go.” He turns to Emma before he goes, squeezing her hands tightly, his mask slipping away to reveal the desperation.

“I’ll let you know as soon as she’s awake,” she promises him in a low voice. “She’ll want to see you.”

“Thanks Mom,” he says. He hugs her tightly before he leaves, the shaking arms and teary eyes almost gone completely as he takes Lucy’s hand. Lucy sends a concerned look over her shoulder to Emma as Henry takes her away. Clever girl. She’s like her father that way.

Emma pulls her hair back into a ponytail and takes in deep breaths. In and out, eight for eight. As she bites her nail, she hears the phantoms of foster mothers telling her stop it, what a terrible habit is. They may have been right, but it’s one of the only constants in her life.

She flops onto one of the hard plastic chairs, the feeling of worthlessness settling into her like little pinpricks. A Saviour is what she is, apparently. And yet she’s sitting here waiting for someone else to save her daughter from something that no amount of magic can fix.

Just down the hall and to the left is the maternity ward, where after 8 painful and uncomfortable hours, her daughter was born. Hope Eva Margaret Swan, five pounds, three ounces, two full weeks before her due date. Emma likes to joke that was the only time she’s ever been early for anything. Born with wisps of blonde hair that turned red just before her first birthday and stayed that way. Zelena joked that if they were out with their daughters, people might think Hope was hers and Robyn was Emma’s. And that might have been true, but ever since Hope dyed her hair black, they’re more in danger of outsiders believing her to be Snow’s, especially with their chin and the family green eyes.

She has almost all of Emma’s bad habits. Not just the nail chewing, but the sugar addiction and the Star Wars worshipping, the eye rolling and the affection for puns, driving poor Gideon up the wall, the inability to sit on a chair properly if their lives depended on it. Sometimes Emma can’t even scold her when she sees her stealing cookies before dinner, knowing she would have done the same thing at her age. But there are so many things about her daughter that she didn’t get from anyone, completely unique to her. Her too-loud cackle and famous impulse decisions, her aggressive competitiveness and her use of affectionate insults to show love, the way she loves with every piece of her, even if she’s too cool to show it. And then there’s her smile. The sarcastic one with her eyes narrowed, the bashful one she gets when she’s talking to Melody even after six months of dating, the excited one accompanied by fists punching and bouncing up and down, the cocky “in your face” smile she puts on when she beats someone at even the tiniest game. But the best one is the one with her eyes sparkling and dimples in her cheeks and teeth on full display, the one she gets where she’s so happy she might burst. Emma had always loved that smile, but it’s only now, when she sees that there’s a chance she might never see it again, she realises how much she needs it in her life.

                                                                                               *****

Something’s tickling her chin. Or someone, but for her sake and the sake of whoever’s with her, it better be a something. But that’s the first thing Hope becomes aware of, the presence of something soft tickling her chin. She goes to move lift her hand to slap it (or them) away, but it feels stuck to the bed. Her whole body feels like it’s melted into the mattress, her head fused to the pillow. She isn’t necessarily complaining though.

She spends minutes (or hours, she’s not totally sure) walking the line between awake and asleep, before she gets restless, her body not at all jibing with how still her limbs are. She tries to move, but her muscles don’t comply despite her best efforts. They don’t feel locked exactly, just deflated. Like a bunch of sad, empty balloons. There’s probably a better comparison, but her brain is a jumbled mess of thoughts right now, and not in the way it normally is where she can sort through it, especially when she feels herself fading in and out of consciousness.

After a while, she manages to blink her eyes open. The world is blurry and disjointed at first, but slowly manages to come into place. With the light from outside, she makes out the grey walls and TV standing isolated in the corner on a heavy looking metal stand and she frowns. This isn’t her room, nor is it any of her friend’s rooms. After some considerable effort, she manages to push herself up onto her elbow, only for a blinding pain to flash through her stomach. She lets out a gasp before she can stop herself and collapses back onto the pillow, her heart racing from the effort.

Thanks to the pain, the fog in her mind lifts and everything comes flooding back to her; the battle, running down Main Street, the arrow piercing her stomach, her mum’s face over her, telling her everything was going to be okay.

She turns her head slightly. Sure enough, she’s sitting on the visitor’s chair beside her, her hair messy from sleeping on her side and her eyes bleary and bloodshot. Her mum.

“You look like crap,” Hope jokes weakly.

“Look who’s talking,” her mum replies, moving from her chair and sitting on the bed. She takes her hand in hers and Hope squeezes with as much effort as she can muster. Her mum’s other hand strokes her cheek and pushes her hair away from her face, letting out a laugh as tears make their way down her cheeks. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she says. Her mum raises an eyebrow at her. “Okay, maybe I’ve been better. What’d I miss?”

“We won,” her mum says. “Turned the tide, White Witch arrested. Oh and Robyn sent an arrow into the guy who shot you.”

“I need to buy her a drink.”

“She’s taken,” Emma reminds her playfully. “And it’ll have to wait. You’re not drinking for a while. Doctor’s orders.”

“Oh, boo,” Hope scoffs. “What would he know? He got his degree from a curse.”

“Normally I’d agree, but Gideon said so too,” she tells her. “And I have some experience with this kind of stuff.” Hope pouts for a second, but it’s soon gone and she nods in understanding. Her free hand slips under the hospital issue blanket and her top and she feels the strip of bandages across her stomach. “They’re staying on for a while.”

“Am I going to have a scar?”

“Most definitely.”

“Awesome,” she whispers. She turns her head and finds something tickling her again. She reaches up and finds a stuffed duck sitting on her shoulder, a pink bow tied around his neck. “Ducky…”

“I brought you some of your stuff from home,” Emma tells her. “You’re going to be here for a while. I brought your laptop, your books, your headphones, your Pop Tart stash…”

“And Ducky,” Hope adds, shaking the toy in front of her face. Emma nods slightly, her cheeks turning pink.

“And Ducky,” she admits. “That was your grandma’s idea.” Hope toys with it, her fingers running over his fur.

“I don’t mind,” she says. A few years ago, Ducky took up semi-permanent residence in her wardrobe, too babyish for her bedroom but too important to throw out. “I don’t.”

“I had a feeling you wouldn’t,” Emma whispers. There’s a lot unsaid in her eyes; a mirror of Hope’s own. Neither one of them are good with words, especially when it comes to this bedside manner, emotional sincerity crap. But the tight hug she pulls Hope into tells her everything she needs to know. “I’m going to go call your brother. He’s probably pacing the floor of his apartment right now.”

“I’ll be here,” Hope says, making Emma chuckle. She kisses her head again, and once more for luck, before lifting her phone and stepping outside.

Hope turns and looks at the digital clock on the wall. 4:15am. She feels a stab (pun intended) of guilt followed by telling herself how ridiculous she’s being. She slips her hand under her blanket and, against her better judgement, feels the bandage across her skin. It’s too thick for her to make out the wound, but if her memory is anything to go by, it’s probably bled through a little. Pain still flashes through her when she touches it, the icing on top of the throbbing ache she already feels in her stomach. She knows it's going to take a long, long time to recover from this, and maybe even then she won't be the person she was before this. She doesn't want to think about all the things she might miss out on now.

Being the product of a fairy tale isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, she realises sadly. Even with the magic.

[justanotherwannabeclassic]

Ready, Set, Please Don’t Go

Killian Jones walks in on his daughter in a compromising position, leading to the realization that his little girl really is growing up.

Author’s Note: Here's another snippet set in the Finding Neverland universe. It's absolutely unnecessary to read Finding Neverland to understand this story, though readers of the original my remember a "library incident" mentioned in a chapter of this story. hat being said, this turned out way different than I expected it to go, which is the best/worst part of writing fic. I hope you all enjoy! Also, this story is dedicated to the wonderful @distant-rose, who is amazing and wonderful and a fantastic friend.

Rating: M (strong language and sexual situations)

[AO3]

XXXXXX

It starts with an admission of a high school tryst.

They’re back in Storybrooke, making the most of a long weekend away from work and research. There’s a festival going on, because somewhere over the near thirty years of the town’s existence, they’ve embraced celebrating. Juliet’s grandmother says it’s because everyone learned all too well how easy it is to lose everything. Whatever the reason, Juliet is fond of the fact that she gets to wander around various booths with his fingers twined around her boyfriend’s and enjoying the familiarity of coming home.

Juliet likes to think she’s come a long way since she was the girl who left Storybrooke for New York City four years ago. She has a degree and a license that actually says she’s twenty-one, but it’s more than that. She likes to think she’s matured, and though she has no inclinations of returning back to her hometown anytime soon, she now embraces the coziness of it all. And, well, the girl of four years ago never would have imagined holding hands with Gideon Gold as they traipsed down Main Street, happy and deliriously in love. 

They’d only been in the same school for a year, her a freshman and he a senior, but he Juliet Jones of Storybrooke High hadn’t been particularly kind to Gideon. She’d been a little too conscious of their respective places in the high school caste system. Even as a freshman, she’d been fawned over by her classmates as a member of the Charming family, The Savior’s daughter, and Henry’s sister. The son of the Dark One didn’t warrant the same favor. It was only once they were both in New York, she starting at Columbia and him finishing up his degree at NYU, that they’d begun to forge a closer relationship, and later, a romantic one.

She supposes his loner nature and her role as the school’s “princess” only furthers the cliche nature of their relationship. When they had made it public they were dating, Neal had monologued the opening lines of Romeo and Juliet.  (“Two families both alike in dignity, in fair Storybrooke we build our scene…” “I hope you realize this means you die too, asshole.”) They might as well add the damn John Hughes movie to the list.

But it doesn’t matter. They’re happy, in love, and openly together in Storybrooke.

They’re in line for cotton candy, Gideon whispering into her ear about the unhealthiness of eating pure sugar, when they bump into old friend hers from high school, Viola. It’s not unexpected. Most people don’t leave Storybrooke or choose to come back to Storybrooke, after all, and they exchange pleasantries.

“How are you liking the big city? I don’t think I could deal with that many people. The traffic alone…”

“That’s what the MTA is for,” Juliet replies with a laugh. To be honest, her friendship with Viola had been one that drifted after she left for Columbia. It was one that Juliet now realizes was born out of proximity and not very many common interests. “But, seriously, it’s great. We’re really happy.” She flashes a grin up Gideon.

He returns her grin with one of his own. God, she loves his smile. “I dunno, I’m pretty damn miserable.”

“A miserable liar, maybe.” Juliet turns her attention back to Viola, who is watching them with an incredulous expression. Maybe this isn’t what Viola expected of the Juliet of four years ago. Maybe it’s not what she would have expected either. Knowing the conversation will only grow more stitled from there, Juliet focuses on what Viola clearly wants her to notice. With exaggerated excitement she doesn’t feel, she asks, “Holy shit! Is that a ring?”

Viola waves her left hand, where a diamond sits. “Yes, Aidan proposed! You’ll have to come back up for the wedding. We’re thinking next April.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” To be honest, Juliet hadn’t known Viola was even dating Aidan.   Oh well. Thankfully, they’re saved from more conversation by the cotton candy. They bid their farewells, and go their separate ways.

“Are we seriously going to go her wedding?” Gideon asks once they’re far enough out of earshot. He steals a bite of her cotton candy -- the hypocritical bastard -- before saying, “I wouldn’t really mind, but I only have the vaguest idea of who she is.”

“God, no,” Juliet replies, instantly regretting how mean she sounds. But, she has a reason. “Honestly, even if we had said more than ten sentences to each since graduation, it would be a little awkward. The last time I saw Aidan, he’d just finished fingering me in sci-fi section of the library. It’s weird to go to the wedding of guys you hit third base with, right?” She shudders at the memory.

Gideon stops abruptly. “Wait, what?” He looks surprised, and honestly, a little annoyed.

“Oh, God, please don’t turn this into a thing.” Gideon unfortunately has a slight jealous streak when it comes to her. It’s not overbearing, thankfully, but it’s present enough to annoy her every now and then. She attributes it mostly to his low self-esteem brought by half the town assuming he’s turn evil as an adult coupled with the way she’d dated every guy but him the year leading up to them finally getting together. She understands where he is coming from, really, but she doesn’t have to like it.

“I’m not turning this into a thing. That’s not it, not entirely,” he amends. “But, seriously, the library?”

“Oh, this is about defiling books .”

He laughs, almost hysterically. “Not quite, no.”

“Then what is it?” She takes a bite of the cotton candy, and delights in the way his eyes track the movement of tongue as she traces her lips for any errant sugar.

He begins to lead her away from the crowd, and his voice lowers. “Remember that time we listed our fantasies?”

She hums in reply. She remembers it well, and still benefits from it too.

“Let’s just say teenage Gideon would have killed to be fingering a pretty girl in the library.” His cheeks are an enjoyable shade of red. He’s always a little embarrassed when talking publicly about sex. Back when they were ‘just friends’, his exploits were something that rarely ever came up, even though she’d been less discreet about hers.

“And what about adult Gideon?”

“What about adult Gideon?”

“It’s after six. The library is closed, and you have a pretty girl who is just about to finish her cotton candy and will soon be wondering just what she can be getting up to later.” She quirks her brow for emphasis. “So what would adult Gideon say we do?”

She’s always been a bit reckless. She enjoys the rush of adrenaline, and sees caution as a suggestion. Gideon’s her opposite in that regard, which is why she can’t contain her gleeful laugh as he more or less drags her to the library at a half-jog. She knows she could magic them there, but this gets her heart pounding in a way that magic does not.

In no time at all, they’re in the library — she bites back a laugh at his attempts to unlock the door — and her back is against the wall as Gideon’s mouth fuses to hers. It’s times like these where she wishes she had gotten over herself enough for them to come together sooner. As much as Gideon had been quiet about his sexploits, he’d picked up some skill. And where he lacked, he certainly made up by being a quick study. “You’re amazing,” he tells her. He lifts his hand, and brushes he strand of hair behind her ear. She leans into his palm.”Do I tell you that enough?”

“You do.” She runs her hands over the front of his shirt, and begins to toy with the buttons. With a teasing smirk, she adds, “Though, to be fair, you mostly tell me when I’m in a state of undress...or about to be.”

“I’ll be sure to rectify that...later.” She squeals when he pulls away from her, only to lift her into his arms. He quickly maneuvers them to the collections desk, and drops her on top of it. Goosebumps form over her skin as his hands span up her bare thighs, and she relishes in the way his warm breath fans across the skin of her face. “This okay?”

“It’s totally okay.” Any other quips she might think to say are lost when he lips close over the most sensitive spot on her neck, sendling shocks of pleasure down her spine. She gasps, her hands carding through his hair as she tilts her neck for easier access. His hands skate over her shorts and work their way under her shirt. Her skin burns hot as his palms burn over the smooth expanse, and she sighs.

They break apart long enough for both of them to remove their shirts. She thinks he breaks a button in his eagerness to remove his top, but she doesn’t mind in the slightest, enjoying the sight of shirtless male in front of her. He’s not incredibly muscular, but he’s toned enough -- and god, his collarbones. She pays particular attention to that part of his body first, eagerly nipping. As she leans forward, his hand slip over her ass, pulling her closer and squeezing as he goes. They move together, their pants dulling the sensation and doing nothing to hide his ardor for her.

She loves the power that comes with sex, the thrill of slowly making her partner come undone -- and that is what drives her next course of action. After all, she knows of know better way to make a man come undone. He groans when she pulls away, the brokeness bringing a smile to her face. She places a finger against his lips as she dismounts from the desk. He nips at the pad of her index finger as she reverses their positions. “What are you planning?”

“Something that will blow teenage Gideon’s mind.”

Juliet drops to her knees.

  -/-

  There are sacrifices one makes for their children.

Some are small, like the last piece of pie. Others are larger sacrifices, such as dedicating everything you can in you to ensuring your child has the best life. Killian Jones, of course, makes these sacrifices willingly, and most of the time, happily.  Ever since the day that the doctor placed a squawking infant -- his daughter -- into his arms, Killian Jones knew that he’d do everything in his power to make her smile. Decades later, he likes to think he’s done a decent enough job. Juliet is happy and healthy, and has the confidence to leave the comfort of Storybrooke and chart a course of her own. And, despite her being an adult, he’ll continue doing what he’s able to ensure her happiness.

However, there are some sacrifices that try his patience -- such as being friendly with the Crocodile.

Over the course of two decades, he and the Dark One have kept their distances. They’ll be cordial at functions that they’re both in attendance, and he’ll never disparage the man around Belle. He values his friendship with her too much for that. Truthfully speaking, over the years, no one has ever truly required them to go out of their way to be in the same place.  

Ah, but then his daughter fell in love with the Dark One’s son, and expectations had been formed.  

“I know you all have bad blood, but can you at least try? For me?” Juliet had asked him. He can’t blame her for doing such a thing. He’d shield her from much of his history with the Crocodile. She knows enough -- he remembers with stunning clarity the afternoon he’d explained to her, just five and infinitely curious, why the name ‘Milah’ was tattooed on his wrist -- but both he and Emma had intentionally agreed to leave out the gorier details of his life. Her basic knowledge cannot compared to the memories of living in the thick of it all.

Which is why, shortly after Juliet had made that request of him, he had mused to Emma in the comfort of their own bed, “Perhaps they’ll break up.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon. This one’s different,” Emma had replied, and that much they knew to be true. Killian had seen that boys that had captured Juliet’s interest over the years -- all of them unworthy of her, in his opinion -- and it’s true that this one felt different. “Besides, if things do go south, you don’t want that heartbreak for her.”

“No, you’re right,” he’d replied. He remembers pulling Emma closer to him, and whispering in her hair, “I’m beginning to understand your father’s perspective a bit more when you began courting me.”

“I’m telling him you said that.”

And it is because he doesn’t want to make life harder for his daughter -- he knows well enough the benefits of a smooth relationship with the in-laws -- Killian puts on his best smile and acts even friendlier with the Crocodile. Though they’ve never explicitly discussed the matter, Killian suspects that Gideon had made the same request of his own father, as the Crocodile has not made one snide comment or appeared surprised at whatever warming relationships they might have.

Belle, at the very least, seems happy about the turn of events. And he can’t deny that Gideon is a good young man, a far cry from the tortured soul who had attempted to kill Emma decades ago. (Killian still has nightmares of their wedding night, of watching the sword drive into Emma’s gut.) But he can’t hold that against Belle’s son. He’d be hypocritical at best, especially considering the respectable person he’s since grown into. Besides, there’s no denying that Gideon looks at Juliet like she’s the moon and stars, and his daughter is quite happy with him.

Which, unfortunately, means he’s on a quest with the Crocodile to retrieve a box of books from the library for a booth at the festival. They library had been going through the process of culling its selection, weeding out extra copies of no longer popular tomes so there would be space for current interests. Belle had concocted a plan to set up a booth to give away the books, and had asked Killian and her husband to fetch a couple of boxes she’d left behind.

He honestly thinks this is a plan of Belle’s to get the two of them to talk more, to further bury the hatchet at the request of their children. The Dark One certainly has the power to poof the boxes. (He has made an effort to use magic less over the years, something Killian will not complain about.) She might have also asked Emma for help, but he’s pretty sure his wife is also in on the scheme.

In the effort of trying , he and the Dark One -- Gold -- exchange in small talk, but it is stilted and awkward. Which is possibly why the conversation dovetails into talking about their children, an easy topic for any proud parent.

“Gideon tells me that Juliet graduated cum laude? I’ll have to extend my congratulations to all of her hard work.”

“Aye. She did excellently. Emma and I are quite proud.” He already has a picture from her graduation day of the three of them sitting on the mantle -- Juliet clad in her regalia, smiling broadly while flanked by her parents. Gideon had been the one to take the picture. “I imagine you are too, with Gideon studying to be a doctor.”

“We are.” The Crocodile’s expression morphs into one that Killian knows all too well -- the sort of look one gets when they can’t quite believe they had a part in raising someone good. “It’s astounding to think that he’ll be completing medical school next year. It seems like yesterday he was just learning to walk.”

“I know the feeling all too well.” He hates how much he relates to Gold at the moment. Emma has occasionally commented how fatherhood has mellowed them both over the years, but Killian doesn’t want to bond over it. The things we do for our children.

But, at the same time, he cannot deny that Gold is wrong. Killian Jones has lived hundreds of years, but none have passed by as quickly as those since Juliet’s birth. In what feels like the blink of an eyes, she’s gone from being a wee babe to a child to a teenager and now an adult. Hadn’t it been just yesterday that she had been stumbling over her consonants as he taught her how to read?

“Those nights when she would keep Emma and I up all night, I remember wishing that time would pass quickly. Now I find myself wishing I could turn back the time and go back.”

“After what happened with my sorry excuse of a mother, I learned not to take any time with Gideon for granted,” Gold replies darkly.

Killian’s first reaction is to consider it a slight, an implication that he somehow has taken his daughter’s childhood for granted, but his cooler head prevails. He recalls how scarred Belle had been during the mess with the Black Fairy, and how even after Gideon back she had barely left him out of her sight. If the same thing had happened to Juliet…

It’s a thought that kept him awake many nights during Emma’s pregnancy. Storybrooke and normal pregnancies or childbirth rarely went hand-in-hand back in those days, and certainly not for their family. He’d be plagued by nightmares full of villains from his past -- men he’d crossed or wronged -- sneaking into his home and doing harm to his child with him unable to save her.

They’d been lucky, with Juliet. She’d been safe and sound. There had been villains since then, but she’d been mostly safe. Nothing like what Gold and Belle had gone through with Gideon, or David and Snow with Emma. For once, Killian Jones had been the blessed one. He tries not to let himself forget it.

He and the Crocodile don’t talk much after that, not until after they’ve worked their way through the crowd and arrive at the library.  

“Where did Belle say she left the boxes?”

“By the circulation desk.” Gold pulls the keys to the library out of his pocket before he suddenly stops. Killian glances over the other man’s shoulder to see why, before noticing the slightly ajar doors. By Killian’s estimation, it seems as someone had simply let the door close behind them, not realizing that they hadn’t shut completely. “I know I locked this earlier.”

“It’s not the first time someone has broken into the library. Probably some horny or drunk youths looking for a quiet space and a good time.” How many times had he or Emma busted people sneaking into the library for a good time over the years? It’s turned into almost a rite of passage amongst the teens. Though he understands the thrill of breaking-and-entering, Killian doesn’t quite understand why the library is the chosen location. He’s crossed Belle enough times to know that is a spectacularly bad idea. “They probably thought the festival would be a good distraction.”

“And now they’re about to find themselves caught by the Dark One and Captain Hook. I almost pity them.”

Killian highly doubts that this is what any of the women is his life hoped for when it came to bonding with Gold. This certainly isn’t what he envisioned, but he’ll take it. Terrible as it might be, he takes certain enjoyment in knowing just how terrified whomever is in there will be when they realize just who they’ve been caught by. Quietly, Gold pushes open the library door and they creep inside the building. Once inside, they can clearly hear low moans and the slick sound of--

“Oh fuck---ohmygod!”

  -/-

  Juliet is hiding. She’s admittedly doing a poor job of it, because her hiding place is the back porch swing of her childhood home. In her defense, no one had been home when she’d come back. Now, however, the lights are one and she can hear the obscured voices of her parents. (She can barely make out the words “shower” and “tired”, if she strains.) Thankfully, they haven’t come to look for her. She wonders if she’ll ever be able to look at her father in the eyes again. She’s already formulating a plan for sneaking out before breakfast -- or maybe pretending to sleep until after he leaves for work.

Until she is sure her parents have convalesced themselves upstairs, she’ll continue hiding outside on the back on the back porch swing -- how many summer nights did she spend out here growing up? She had attempted to distract herself from her complete and utter mortification by attempting to read, but the exploits of Natasha Rostova weren’t enough to ebb away her embarrassment. Now, she just sits and stews, swaying back and forth on the swing.

She wishes Gideon were here. After a minor freakout --

“This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me.”

“Worse than that time you got stabbed in Agrabah?”

“Yes! I got healed from being stabbed! My dad caught be going down on my boyfriend. How do you come back from this?”

-- she and Gideon had decided to go their separate ways for the rest of the night. The mood had effectively been killed, and they had already agreed to spend the night at their respective childhood homes . She now wishes he were here, however, if only to give her a hug and share the mortification together. The text messages from him, of which there are many, are hardly sufficient. Besides, she hardly even wants to look at her phone anymore, not since she made a mistake of telling Neal, who has sent her three texts that consist of “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA” written over ad nauseum . Jerk.

Beyond embarrassment, she’s also incredibly disappointed in herself. The Juliet of four years ago had never been caught involved in illicit acts. Had she been caught vomiting into a bush after a night of underage drinking? Sure, but at least she’d been clothed and not hooking up with anyone. Has she fallen so far? Has living in New York eroded her sense in Storybrooke? The Juliet of four years ago would have insisted to sneak deeper into the library to fool around.

One thing’s for sure: I am never doing this in Storybrooke again.

She picks up her book again, and thumbs to the dog-eared page. Her adamant refusal to use a bookmark drives Gideon up the walls -- “Books are sacred, J.” The thought of him, and his exasperation, warms her heart and she makes a note to call him once she’s sure her parents are asleep. Slinking further into the swing, she attempts to read a bit more. It’s a mostly futile effort, and she’s about to give up when she is startled by the creak of the back door porch opening. She winces when she sees her father slide through.

“Hi.”

“Hullo, Cygnet.”

Juliet readjusts herself in the swing, swinging her legs to the ground so that he could sit beside her. She doesn’t meet his eyes when he sits down. She takes a deep breath, bracing for whatever lecture is bound to come, wishing he had somehow gotten the memo that this was something that they weren’t going to talk about. She had hoped that she and Gideon had gotten off the proverbial hook in that regard when her father and Mr. Gold had disappeared immediately after catching them, but apparently not.

“I’m guessing you’re not coming out here because you wanted to see the stars?”

“It’s a touch too overcast for that tonight, darling,” he replies, and there’s humor in his voice, but it is strained. God, this is the worst. “I wished for us to have a chat, not matter how awkward it might be.”

“Or we could pretend it never happened. I prefer that option.”

“When you were a toddler, you preferred to not wear clothes, so you stripped yourself in the middle of Granny’s, waving your dirty diaper as a victory flag. And yet your mother and I still dressed you,” her father replies, and he has the audacity to wink at her.

“Okay, that is so not fair.” It’s a story she’s heard maybe a hundred times by this point, but it makes her cringe every time. Why was she such an awkward child?

“I’ve learned from experience that life, unfortunately, isn’t fair.”

“Now you’re getting angsty,” she says. She’s being difficult. Juliet knows this, but she really doesn’t want to talk about whatever if on her father’s mind. She already feels terrible enough. “Dad, seriously, can we just forget today ever happened?”

“Trust me when I say I do, and after you and I have a chat, we can.”

“Dad, I’m an adult. We were just being dumb, okay?” Juliet feels like a teenager again, getting caught after staying out past curfew. But, to be fair, this is perfectly in character for her father. Years ago after a party, he’d caught her stumbling around clearly drunk. The next day he’d given her a lecture about the importance of staying safe while inebriated. “We’ll be more responsible from now on. Trust me when I say that no one involved wants a repeat of that. Ever.”

“That’s good. That’s good.” He runs his hand through his hair. “That’s not what I want to discuss.”

“Oh.” They sit like that for a moment, listening the sound of summer bugs and the creak of the swing swaying back and forth. When their respective awkward silence feels unbearable, Juliet asks, “So what did you want to talk about then?”

“As you’ve mentioned you’re an adult, and I have no bearing on telling you what you can and cannot do.” He takes a deep breath and looks up. “But now that you’re an adult, you are making adult choices and are finding yourself in adult situations.”

“Mom already gave me the sex talk in high school.” Her mother had been incredibly thorough with the sex talk, no doubt influenced by her own harrowing experience with teenage pregnancy. While she had done an excellent job discussing the different forms of birth control, Juliet had walked away so scarred by everything else that she’d done everything but penetrative sex until she had started college for fear of getting pregnant before her finishing her high school degree. “I know how to be safe. We’ve been tested. I have an IUD.”

Juliet winces at her explanation. Even though she’s veering into TMI territory -- her father knowing her current form of birth control does not top the ‘need to know’ list -- she wants to express to him that the earlier encounter had been a bit of fun and that she’s actually a responsible adult when it comes to these things.

“I’m glad you are aware of those things.” He runs his hand through his hair again. It’s also something Juliet does when she’s stressed. Both her mother and Gideon have commented on it. Unsure if it is a nature or nurture thing, she chalks it up to simply being Killian Jones’ daughter. “I just also want you to be aware that just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you have to if you. If you ever feel uncomfortable doing something, you can say no. You don’t need to...you don’t need to consent to an action simply because your partner--”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Gideon didn’t force me into doing anything. Holyshit, he’s not that kind of guy. I’m the one-- it was my idea, okay? He’s not some creep who would force me into that. This is not the time for that PSA.” Juliet pushes herself from the swing, turning to face her father. She’s angry and hurt and how could he even imply…? “Is it because of what we were doing? Newsflash, Dad, women can like giving head. Women can like sex. And I know this might be hard to hear, but I like sex. What you walked in on? That was me doing what I enjoy doing with my partner.”

To call her furious would be an understatement. She wonders how her father could even think that about Gideon. Gideon, who is the nicest person she knows. Gideon, who is so afraid of everything thinking he’s just another villain because of his last name. The implication that he would be the one forcing her, or that she would be so easily coerced boils her blood. And for it to come from her father?

She turns to leave -- to where, she doesn’t know -- but her father is up in an instant and following her. He gently takes hold of her arm, stopping her at the door. “Juliet, sweetheart, wait.”

“What, so you can imply my boyfriend is some asshole who forces me into sex?”

“No, so I can better explain what I was trying to say,” he tells her. Juliet doesn’t move at first, but he gradually leads her back to the swing. “It was not my intention to imply at Gideon was that sort of man. I honestly don’t think he is. I was talking about relationships the in general and not him specifically.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m doing a train on the hockey team.” Her father winces. She thinks it serves him right. “I’m kind of a big believer in monogamy.”

“That’s...that’s something. But even with the people we love, it’s easy for us to feel like we should do things that we normally wouldn’t want to do. And I don’t mean this situation specifically, but in relationships as a whole. I want you to know that it’s okay to say no,” he says gently. “You don’t ever have to do something you don’t want.”

“Again, I wanted to.”

“So you said.” He bites his lip and looks down. “I also want you to know that if you want to do something that your partner doesn’t, you should respect their decision, as well.”

“I know.”

“It’s easy to say when you’re not in the situation. And if you think your desires outweigh their own. And I’m not simply talking about what one might get into in their bedchambers, or libraries as it were. It extends to hospitals, how you raise your children, end of life care…” He trails off, before shaking his head. He turns so he can fully face her. “Juliet, darling, you’re growing up and making so many decisions, and now you’re making them now with a partner. I love you, more than anything you can comprehend, which is why I’m telling you these things. Adulthood isn’t simple, and strong emotions makes it even more difficult. What I’m trying, rather poorly it seems, is to say that it’s okay to communicate your desires, just as it is for he to communicate his, but both of you can say no and the other needs to respect it, aye?”

She’s unprepared to deal with the intensity of his speech. She’s been unprepared for a lot that has happened today, and she wants to deal with none of it. So she nods her head. “Yeah. Okay. Communicate. Have adult conversations. Is that all?”

“Yeah, that’s all.” He looks taken aback at her response. She regrets her, but he’s already up and walking to the door. “I think I’m going to turn in for the night. Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

And then he’s gone, and Juliet feels like the worst person ever.

“You aren’t the worst person ever,” Gideon tells her later that night, after she creeps into the house and back to her childhood bedroom. “Maybe a bit short. As much as I appreciate you defending my honor, based on what he said I don’t think he was meaning it that way. Or maybe it’s wishful thinking on my part.”

“I don’t know, I think he was trying to do the ‘Dad’ thing and make it like a sitcom feel-good moment.” In the immediate aftermath, once she had cooled off and really registered what her father had been saying, she had realized that maybe he hadn’t been implying what she thought he had. “And I yelled at him and then blew him off. I mean, he was being a bit weird about it with the sex stuff, but...I don’t know.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“What do you think I should do about it?”

“That’s not my call, babe,” he says gently. She hears a rustle over the line as he shifts in the bed. She wishes she were there with him, if only so she could feel the comfort of his warmth around her. “You know your dad. Do what you think is best.”

She just has to figure out what that means.

  -/-

  Emma is waiting for him in bed when he clambers into their bedchamber. Her hair, now wet, is pulled into a braid and she’s wearing an oversized t-shirt, but she still looks stunning. She closes the book she had been reading, and gives him a sympathetic look. “I heard yelling.”

“You heard correctly.” He strips off his clothes and brace, for once not bothering to fold them neatly into the hamper. Deciding not to wear his pajama pants, he crawls into bed and takes his spot besides his wife. “I’m not sure how well that conversation went.”

“I told you wait until morning.” Emma pokes him in the chest. “She’s mortified now. Nothing you said was going to register.”

“I didn’t want the moment to pass.” He interlocks his fingers with hers, and kisses her knuckles. “I’m afraid if I had waited until the morning, she would have snuck out. I’m not convinced she still won’t.”

“That does sound like our daughter.” They re-adjust themselves under the blankets so that Emma is laying on his chest. Killian feels his heart rate, previously pounding, slow as he succumbs to the comfort of her presence. “Even if it didn’t go well, I’m proud of you. You pushed past any awkwardness to have a real conversation with your kid.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to say that. She accused me of implying her boyfriend was an abuser.”

“She also apparently likes sex,” Emma adds, humor evident in her tone.

“Don’t remind me.”

“You kinda of walked into that last one, buddy.” He feels Emma traces nonsense into his chest. It tickles, but he allows her to continue. She grounds him, that wife of his, keeping him afloat in the wild storm of his emotions.

“I walked into a lot of things today.” Things he would very much like to forget, regardless of what he told Juliet. He wonders if he might be able to convince Gold to whip them up a memory potion. He thinks the Dark One might agree.

“Yeah, I don’t envy you.”

“You are taking far too much joy in this situation.”

“What can I say, babe? It was a long time coming. Remember when mom walked in on us?”

“Which time?”

“Exactly.”

He laughs, but he doesn’t quite find the humor in the situation. He’s too caught up thinking about all the things he did wrong while talking to Juliet than right tonight. It had been easier when she was younger, far less prone to lash out. Back then, of course, the lessons hadn’t felt some complicated or embarrassing. Perhaps he misses that too, her willingness to listen and the faith that the advice he was imparting was done with her best interest at heart.

But that’s not how it works anymore, is it? She’s her own person. One who apparently likes sex and fools around with her partner in public spaces. And he doesn’t mind, not really, but today had been a stark reminder that she’s not his little girl anymore. He hadn’t been prepared for this part of fatherhood.

“Killian?” Emma says after a lifetime of silence. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. And you want to know how I know it is?” Emma moves that her chin is now resting on his chest. He catches a glint in her green eyes. “Because we’ve been down this road before, and everything turned out fine. Our daughter still comes home.”

“Why does it feel different than before?” he asks. Emma is correct, this isn’t the first time either of them have had a less than ideal encounter with their daughter. He still cringes when he thinks of the slammed doors and eye rolls from her teenage years.

“Because I think this is the first time it’s really sunk in for you that our baby isn’t a baby anymore.” Her words are a heavy weight on his chest as he considers them. Objectively, he recognizes that Juliet is an adult. She’s done well for herself living away from home and completing her studies. She hasn’t starved. But, Emma isn’t necessarily wrong either, and the incident earlier is a reminder of just how much she’s grown.

“You know, earlier I was telling the Crocodile I wished I could turn back time to when she was small. She used to be no longer than my forearm, do you remember that?” He’d been so delicate with her, so afraid of damaging something so small and precious to him.

“Of course I remember that.” Emma smiles fondly, the corner of her eyes crinkling. “Remember those bows my mom got her? The ones with flowers bigger than her face?”

“She would scream every time one of us tried to put it on.”

“You singing sea shanties was one of the only ways to get her to sleep.”

“Aye.” Tired as he had been, Killian cherished those moments he had with his infant daughter. She would be curled up on his chest as he rocked in a chair and hummed her his favorite songs. He felt special, being one of the only people who could calm her down. “I miss it.”

“I know, babe, but we’ve got a lot of new memories ahead of us.” Emma stretches up, leaving him feeling bereft, as she reaches to shut off the lamp. As his eyes attempt to adjust to the light, he feels her settle more firmly into her side of the bed. Unwilling to let her go quite yet, he turns to his side and wraps his arm around her waist.

“You were right about one thing, though.”

“Just one?”

“Hush,” he teases. “This one is different. Gideon, I mean.”

“And what makes you say that?”

Emma is goading him, but he doesn’t care. “You should have seen the fire in her eyes when she thought I was accusing him of being untoward. I’ve never seen her so defensive of anything or anyone in her life.”

“She’s in love.”

“Aye, she’s in love.”

Killian allows that sentiment to close out the night, and lets the evenness of Emma’s breaths slowly lull him to sleep. In the morning, he awakens to the sounds of someone rattling around the kitchen and the smell of pancakes wafting upstairs. He dresses quickly, pulling on the previously ignored pajama pants and a t-shirt before padding down the stairs. He expects to find Emma at the oven, but instead she is sitting at the table, drinking a mug of coffee. She casts him a knowing look and tilts her head to where their daughter is pouring batter into a sizzling skillet.

“Smells amazing, Cygnet.”

“Thanks, I made ‘em from scratch.” As the pancakes cook, she points with a spatula to a plate waiting for him. “You should get them while they’re hot.”

“As the lady insists.” He exchanges glances with Emma as he takes a plate of pancakes and settles into a chair. Rarely is Juliet ever awake this early on her own volition, let alone the one to making breakfast. After taking a few bites, he says, “These are excellent.”

“Thanks. I’ve been trying to learn how to cook, and ta-da.” Juliet flashes a wide smile -- Emma’s smile -- before turning back to her pancakes. Killian holds off on eating the rest, waiting until Juliet settles at the table with a plate of her own food and a glass of orange juice, extra pulp .

Emma excuses herself under the guise of needing to put on makeup, an obvious lie if he ever heard one. However, he can’t fault his wife for engineering an excuse for him and Juliet to be alone. His anxiety from the night before has slowly begun to ebb away knowing that his daughter did, in fact, not sneak out or intentionally sleep in to avoid him. She’s here and having breakfast. It’s the best he can ask for.

“What else are you learning how to cook?” he inquires, because he genuinely wants to know. This is a part of Juliet’s life he hadn’t initially been privy to with her living in New York. He’s eager to learn more.

“This and that. I make a mean pumpkin pasta sauce. If I’m up in the fall, maybe I can make it for you and Mom?”

“There’s nothing we would like more.” The hardest part of her growing older has been her absence. He’s proud that she has the confidence to leave home and forge a path of her own, but he misses her terribly. David had lucked out with both of his children living nearby. Killian has to settle for the occasional visit, mirror chats, or phone calls. The fact that she’s talking about visiting in a few months is a godsend.

She tells him more about the recipes she is learning how to cook -- caramel pie, enchiladas, various stews. He’s impressed, and he tells her as much.

“A girl’s gotta eat,” Juliet answers with a shrug. She pushes around some of the remaining pancakes on her plate. “Hey, Dad? About last night…”

He opens his mouth to apologize. Not for what he said, but instead for not yet coming to terms with her adulthood. Juliet, however, doesn’t allow him to finish. “Thanks for caring about me and everything.”

“You never need to thank me for that. I’m your father.”

“Yeah, but I want to,” she replies. He cheeks flush, and she pushes a few stray strands of hair behind her ears. “And, I didn’t say it last night, but I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, Cygnet.”

Killian chooses not to press for any conversation surrounding last night anymore. He recognizes an olive branch when he sees one, and Emma’s advice about waiting is stilling lingering at the back of his mind. Instead, he asks his daughter her plans about the rest of weekend, and suggests that if they have time, her and Gideon should join he and Emma on the Jolly for a sunset cruise -- an olive branch of your own to say that he doesn’t actually hate her boyfriend.

“I’ll have to check, but that sounds fun,” she tells him.

Later, when they’re at station, Killian tells Emma all of this. He watches as her smile grows wider with each addition to the story, culminating on the tentative sailing excursion.

“I told you she would cool off.”

“To be honest, I’m a little surprised she did so quickly.” Since Juliet has inherited his temper, he had feared she would inherit his ability to hold a grudge. She certainly did when she was younger. As a teenager, she had perfected the silent treatment in a way that’s almost impressive. (For those not on the receiving end.”)

Emma simply gives him another one of her smiles and peck on the lips. “Well, yeah, our baby is growing up.”

He mutters something that sounds like agreement before giving his wife a kiss and returning to his work. He’s still not fond of his daughter being an adult, an absurd thought for something so inevitable and expected. But she’s happy. That’s what matters in the end.

[robronsecretvalentine]

truth or dare

(AO3)

RATING: T

Aaron Dingle thought that bumping into Robert Sugden at Chrissie White’s Halloween party would be the worst thing about his night. He’s wrong. That would be all the murder.

Or, the teen slasher AU no one asked for.

:::::

For @omarandjohnny Happy Valentine’s Day my favourite gothic prince! May this next year shower you with all the love! (And plenty of fictional soap murders.)

truth or dare

He doesn’t have too many regrets in his young life, but so far his biggest one is letting Vic talk him into going to this Halloween party with her. (Not that he’d had much of a choice seeing as she’d cornered him at the garage where he’d been working after school and had taken his cup of coffee and sandwich hostage.)

“I don’t even know Chrissie White,” Aaron grumbles as they walk up the driveway to Home Farm. The face paint pulls at his face and the beginnings of his beard, his makeshift skeleton costume already making him want to turn back. “Why would I want to go to her party?”

He burrows his hands deeper into his jacket pockets and hunches his shoulders to brace against the sudden night breeze, chills running across the back of his close-shaved head and down his thin spine. Below him gravel crunches.

“Because I do, and I want you there,” Vic insists from a few steps ahead of him. She stops and turns back to give him a pleading look; big green eyes belying her underlying nerves and need for moral support. When she sees he isn’t budging, she crosses her arms against her chest and pouts. “Oh come on. Do it for me!”

When Aaron makes a face, she rolls her eyes. “Some kind of best friend you are.”

It shouldn’t get to him, but it really does, Vic being one of the few and far between people he can stand and actually likes spending time with. (It helps that she’s devoid of any of his own harsh sense of judgement and that she finds his jokes funny — and that he feels comfortable enough to talk to her about anything. Though given her recent fixation on being liked by one Chrissie White, he’s slowly starting to rethink his opinion.)

With a reluctant sigh, he closes the gap. Vic beams up at him as she links her arm with his, the sleeve of her yellow top bright against the black of his big puffy jacket. They continue walking up to the main house in tandem.

“Will you at least try and have a good time?” She asks after a few minutes. He almost misses her words as the wind picks up around them.

“Not sure how I’m supposed to do that with him there,” Aaron mumbles under his breath. The wind dies down just enough for her to hear that.

“Robert’s not all bad,” Vic says, ever the dutiful sister. “Yeah, he can be a bit of an idiot. But all that stuff with Debbie’s in the past now. And it was only ever a one-time thing.”

As far as Aaron’s concerned, it’s been an ongoing thing, Robert making no bones about his sexual prowess — or his attempts to bed half the school’s female population. Aaron’s cousin had just been one of the many names added to that steadily growing list at the end of term last year. Though if he’s being honest she’d gotten over it rather quickly in the summer, leaving Aaron the only one still holding a grudge. (Well, him, his mum, and his uncle Cain. Even Debbie’s mum, Charity, seems unbothered by it at this point.)

“What are you supposed to be, anyway?” Aaron asks in an attempt to change the subject. He knows full well she’s dressed as a cheerleader. And even if he didn’t, the short maroon skirt and bright white trainers would more than give it away. He doesn’t understand how she isn’t freezing.

“Uh, I’m Buffy?” Vic says instead. Her tone makes it seem like it’s supposed to be obvious.

“Is that why you’re carrying that wooden stick?” Aaron asks, nodding at the prop in her other hand. Vic’s sigh is loud and put upon from beside him.

“It’s called a ‘stake’ and it’s used to kill vampires,” she explains like he’s the one who’s picked a ridiculous and obscure costume. “You know, because she’s a vampire slayer?”

Aaron just shrugs, accepting it for what it is: yet another thing Vic is into and he isn’t. Though judging by her exasperated sigh and the determined jut of her jaw, he senses an upcoming night parked in front of the telly. Shaking his head, he turns his attention to the house in front of them, and it quickly becomes clear that the Whites have spared no expense for the holiday.

There are lit up jack-o-lanterns all along the path to the main house, and half the roof is covered in cobwebs. The other half has black spiders in the ivy crawling up against it, causing the mansion to look less grand and more dilapidated. It’s like something out of one of those horror movies Paddy and Marlon are always trying to get him to watch, the ones Aaron’s always declining. He thinks about taking out his phone and snapping a photo for them, but he can’t be bothered and it’s far too chilly a night. So his hands remain in his pockets. (Paddy, in particular, had been quite excited that he might be attending a Halloween party at all. Never mind that it was at Home Farm of all places. He’d spent the entire time Vic had been applying Aaron’s face paint just dithering in the doorway of his bedroom, telling him about all the fun Halloween pranks he’d gotten up to in university.)

Beside him, Aaron can already feel Vic’s excitement level start to shoot up, her grip around his arm tightening. Despite his earlier misgivings, he can feel his own mood start to lift, Vic’s steadily growing enthusiasm finally starting to infect him.

Practically the whole school had been buzzing about tonight’s “big” party, everyone discussing their costume ideas during and between lessons. With any luck, most of Vic’s and his classmates would have already arrived, meaning Aaron wouldn’t have to do much to avoid anyone he doesn’t want to see yet.

Meaning he wouldn’t have to do much to avoid Robert.

The heavy bass of some booming party track is already audible through the heavy front door, the beats thumping louder as they get nearer. The intended ominous and foreboding vibe of the house’s exterior, at direct odds with the life of its interior.

They come to a stop just before the doorway, Vic turning toward him patiently. He can see on her face that she’s truly offering him one last way out, one last chance to get away from all of this.

And it’s that that makes him shake his head and soften his stance, an acquiescent smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

���Oh thank you thank you thank you!” Vic exclaims, her voice mildly muted by the music. She reaches up and excitedly kisses him on the cheek, apparently unworried she’ll get paint on herself or ruin her makeup.

It’s in the middle of this that the door swings open, and a blast of noise rushes out to greet them, the music now so much louder with nothing to keep it at bay.

Not that Aaron notices it much, his eyes trained on the figure in the doorway, at the bare, freckled chest and swim-toned arms, and the fucking smirk gracing those often-cruel, pink lips.

“Well, well, well…”

Green eyes darken around a sharp glint of mischief. The other boy steps close, not even a trace of a shiver passing through him as he crosses his arms over his chest. Everything about this motion is instantly familiar, the unconscious resemblance both strong and uncanny.

“If it isn’t my sister and her little boyfriend.”

Who you calling ‘little’? Aaron opens his mouth to fire back, but Vic does it for him, stepping forward and pushing past her brother as she warns, “Robert, don’t be boring.”

A second later, Aaron finds himself being pulled into the party after her, Vic’s hands still wrapped firmly around his left forearm.

For a moment it looks like Robert might object, as he moves just a tiny half a step forward. But his mouth remains shut as he continues to behold Aaron; just keeps staring at him like he wants to say something.

For his part, Aaron sticks his chin out in challenge, meeting Robert’s gaze headfirst as he moves to walk past him. In glimpsing that almost-sneer up close and in high definition, he notices instantly that it doesn’t quite reach Robert’s eyes, which have somehow grown even darker in the last couple of seconds; not a trace of warmth, or even love, lost between them.

When it appears like Robert’s not going to move out of his way any time soon, Aaron gives into Vic’s tugging and bumps into the older teen’s right shoulder. He feels the impact even through his thick coat and warm, woollen jumper, Robert’s slim frame proving much harder than anticipated; those hours of farmwork feeding his unyielding solidity.

Aaron lets Vic lead him down the White’s hallway, the dim light adding extra drama to everyone’s costumes. She pulls him into the living room situated on the right — not that he really notices. His body might be here but his mind is still back outside with Robert, and the slowly blooming wave of warmth in his right shoulder.

So much for avoiding Robert Sugden.

:::::

They’re barely there an hour before Ellis Chapman arrives, dressed like he works in an office and carrying a bloody cricket bat. Instantly Aaron knows he’s lost Vic’s attention, her gaze now fixed over his right shoulder as she nods absentmindedly when he asks her what she’d like for her second drink.

Shaking his head, he waves a hand in front of her face to recapture her attention. When he has it, Aaron nods over at Ellis. “You should go over and say hello.”

To her credit, Vic smiles at him sheepishly, her cheeks turning a light pink that’s visible even in this muted lighting. “I said I wouldn’t leave ya alone, so I’m not going to.”

“Why not? It’s clear that you like him.” Aaron shrugs and takes another sip of his beer, Chrissie’s father seemingly having no problem with serving half the school alcohol. (Yes, he’s17, but he’s also grown up in a pub. Vic still isn’t, and neither is Ellis.)

Vic shushes him to keep anyone else from hearing — not that they would over the still-loud and booming dance track.

When she’s sure no one really has, she protests much more softly, “I never said anything like that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Aaron explains with another shrug. “You get all weird when you’re around him.”

He bursts into an impression of her talking to their friend, pitching his voice high and batting his eyelids as he pretends to toss his hair over his shoulder. “Oh, Ellis. You’re so funny.”

He follows it up with an exaggerated giggle that earns him a smack on the arm. He frowns because it actually smarts a little.

Thankfully, Ellis puts a pin in this argument for them, coming over to the corner where they’re both standing. The splatters of red paint on his short-sleeved white shirt and red tie are more noticeable, up close.

“Excuse me, Ms. Summers but have you see a Victoria Sugden?” Ellis asks both of them, like he’s meeting them for the first time. “I was hoping to ask her to dance with me.”

It’s then he turns to look at Aaron, and flashes him a smile. “You look like my mate Aaron, but less scary.”

Aaron rolls his eyes as Vic laughs at the joke. Despite herself, it sounds a bit like Aaron’s impression.

She follows it with a pleased, “See! You’re the only one who doesn’t know who Buffy is.”

Aaron replies, “Just go dance with the office manager.”

“Hey! I’m meant to be Shaun of the Dead,” Ellis corrects, sounding affronted. He gestures up and down at his costume, and then specifically at his fictional name tag.

“I’m going to get another drink,” Aaron tells Vic. It’s a blatant lie seeing as his glass is still half full. But she still reads his second directive for what it’s meant to be: Go dance with him. I’ll be alright on me own.

Vic smiles at him gratefully and turns back to Ellis, who’s now glancing curiously between them.

“Better do as he says,” she says, gazing at the other boy shyly. “Or he’ll get even grumpier.”

“And here I thought this was him happy,” Ellis jokes back. But when he looks over at Aaron he’s also thankful.

Aaron watches as Ellis offers her his arm, Vic taking it and letting him lead her over to where everyone’s dancing. Aaron shakes his head at his two secretly smitten friends before his eye catches on something in the middle of the makeshift dance floor.

It’s Robert, still shirtless, grinding up against Chrissie White, the only thing between them the thin linen of her Cleopatra’s dress, and whatever white cotton pants he seems to be wearing — but even that might as well be non-existent at this rate, their movements growing less and less suggestive.

Almost without warning, Robert seems to sense him, looking up from where his chin is resting on Chrissie’s neck, and through the gap in the parting crowd, straight at Aaron. He doesn’t stop moving, just keeps dancing; gyrating slowly against Chrissie’s backside. His mouth quirks upwards at the corners, as if proud of himself — and as if wanting Aaron to know it.

In Aaron’s chest, it’s like the air’s gone stale, the breath passing through it now constricted. He looks away like his retinas have been burned, but he can still feel Robert’s gaze upon him. In an effort to mute it, he downs whatever’s left of his drink, and then heads off to the kitchen for a refill.

He can’t stand the sight of Robert fucking Sugden.

:::::

He’s necking cider by himself in the kitchen when he hears a gaggle of voices by the doorway. A few seconds later, Bernice, Kerry, and Priya enter the room; an angel, a devil, and Lara Croft locked in a heated discussion.

“I’m tellin’ ya man, they’ve got loads of those cabins around here,” Kerry says with a grin and a nudge. “You and Liam would have plenty of privacy.”

“And most importantly,” Priya notes, as she pours them all more beer. “No more Daz Spencer hanging around you.”

She thinks for a minute then looks over at Kerry. “Sorry.”

Kerry brushes it off as she takes the red plastic cup handed to her. “Oh, no worries. Dan doesn’t like him either. Can’t believe Bernice here dated him as long as she did.”

“But it’s not like I can just ask Chrissie to give me the keys,” Bernice points out. She accepts her glass but keeps it on the counter beside her. “And certainly not in the middle of her party!”

“Then why don’t you just take them?” Aaron asks from he’s standing, he’s drunk enough that he’s feeling a bit bolder.

When all three girls turn to look at him, startled expressions on their faces, he shrugs and adds, “Reckon her dad’s got an office around here somewhere.”

“Stealing is a crime,” Bernice protests, though judging by the look on her face she’s already considering it.

“Not if you’re just borrowing,” Kerry says enthusiastically, in support of the suggestion. She beams back over at Aaron, her glittery horns shine in the low kitchen light, and making her live up to her costume.

Priya joins in with a, “Or do you want your ex-boyfriend to keep interrupting you and Liam?”

Bernice straightens up and looks across the kitchen island at Aaron. “So, where do you think this office is?”

:::::

He finds the keys without much difficulty once he heads downstairs, the home office better organised than he’d expected. He tosses a set marked 12-04 over to Bernice who first fumbles the catch and then nearly drops it. When she brings her hand up, the keys are still clasped within it, her knuckles whitening with the pressure.

“Bring them back in a couple of hours and no one will notice it,” he advises, not really caring one way or the other.

“Aaron Dingle, I could kiss you!” Bernice exclaims as she takes her phone out and starts typing, no doubt already messaging Liam.

He scrunches up his face in immediate disgust and mutters under his breath, “Don’t you dare.”

But if Bernice notices his reaction she doesn’t say a thing. Though it’s clear she’s barely paying attention anyway.

Seeing as she’s already walking out the door where Kerry and Priya are keeping watch, Aaron realises that putting things back as they were will be his sole purview.

He’s moving the box of keys back into the file cabinet he took it from, when he hears a shuffle by the door behind him.

“Finally realise you were forgettin’ something did ya?” He calls out in a strained whisper over his shoulder, he’s bent over, rearranging the files within the bottom drawer. “Don’t worry. I already took care of it.”

He hears the click of a phone camera before he sees a flash out of the corner of his eye.

It’s followed by a voice dripping nothing by smugness. “This is what you get when you invite a Dingle to your party.”

Aaron stands up straight, and clenches his jaw. Then turns around slowly to face Robert. “Why do you care? Not like it’s your house.”

He then snorts and adds, “Not like it’s even your party.”

Robert’s smile seems to slip — but it’s only for a second. His eyes get darker and more pointed.

“It is my business when my sister’s boyfriend is involved.” He practically spits that word out at Aaron.

Aaron’s eyes narrow as Robert steps forward, glancing around the room as if truly noticing the office for the first time.

“What you doing down here anyway?” He asks when he looks back at Aaron. He’s steps closer in an effort to be threatening. “Scoping out places you can sleep with my sister?”

“What you goin’ on about?” Aaron asks, stepping forward as well. “Vic and I are just mates. Why would I want to sleep with her?”

Robert’s eyes study him, but he doesn’t seem to buy it. “Please. I saw the way you were staring at Chrissie and me earlier. You’re not using Vic for your sick sexual fantasies.”

It shouldn’t be funny, but something about it is. Aaron chuckles, shakes his head and looks away.

“What’s so funny?” Robert asks, stepping closer and sounding even more annoyed. His breath tickles Aaron’s face, moist against the dry pull of paint. He smells of sweat, and beer, and body spray.

“You are, mate,” Aaron answers, edging even closer in challenge. “I’m not interested in your girlfriend.”

“Chrissie’s the fittest girl in school,” Robert points out, both angry and gloating. “So that makes you a liar.”

There’s a fury in Robert’s eyes, and Aaron can’t look away. He tries to widen his gaze, take in the splatter of freckles around Robert’s cheeks as he rumbles, “Or it makes me gay and honest.”

He can tell Robert isn’t expecting it, his eyes going wide in shock. If anything, Aaron knows how he feels; barely having expected to make this admission tonight — and never to Robert Sugden. In fact, he’d never planned on coming out to more than a few close friends. But like always, Robert has to go ahead and ruin it.

Before his own panic can set in — the feeling already rising in his chest — Aaron takes a moment to truly revel in the other boy’s reaction. He looks at wide open eyes, and a jaw dropped mouth, before offering a smirk of his own to Robert. Then without further ado, and his work done here, he bumps his shoulder into him again as he exits.

The second the door clicks shut, Aaron’s throat starts to constrict, a cold kind of dread creeping up his spine. Sure, there are people who are out at their school, but he can count the entire queer student population on just one hand. However, even that is proving to be cold comfort when faced with the fact that his truth is now known by Robert Sugden.

All he can do now is limit the fallout as the rest of the student body slowly starts to find out — and maybe get a few more people on his side. Now armed with a rough plan, Aaron rushes upstairs. He needs to find Vic and Ellis.

:::::

“There you are!” Vic exclaims when she sees him emerge in the living room. “We’ve been lookin’ everywhere for ya!”

She gestures at Ellis, who’s perched on the arm of a sofa right beside her, before fixing Aaron with a stern almost-motherly stare.

“Bernice said something about you being her hero?” Ellis teases lightly. “You find some way to get rid of Daz for her?”

Vic elbows him in the side, and he groans instantly. “What? He’s the one bein’ creepy and not leaving her alone. The guy needs to learn how to take a hint.”

“I think I’m going to go,” Aaron tells them, the words coming out in a rush. Now that he’s faced with his friends he can’t stand to do it; all of the courage and bravado that had come when he’d been facing down Robert having vanished from his system right this very instant.

“Don’t be like that!” Vic protests, looking guilty. “Have you even tried to meet anyone yet?”

She lowers her voice as she adds, “Chrissie said she’d invited some blokes from her old school. I’m sure one of them’s bound to be gay — or bisexual!”

That’s not the problem. Aaron wants to tell her. But before he can, that’s when the girl of the hour walks into the living room.

“Who wants to play ‘Truth or Dare’?” Chrissie questions looking around, holding up a glass beer bottle. She seems a bit drunk and like someone put her up to this.

Aaron’s chest seizes up and he looks around for Robert, but he seems nowhere in sight or in the vicinity.

“See!” Vic insists, jumping to her feet. “You can’t leave now! Things are just getting interesting.”

She grabs his forearm and drags him behind her. Ellis just smiles and shrugs as he also follows her lead, falling in step beside him.

As he follows his friends into the other sitting room, Aaron immediately questions their friendship. But even that thought quickly falls by the wayside as he keeps his eye open for any sign of Robert.

:::::

When he doesn’t show up after a few minutes, Aaron breathes a silent sigh of relief. They’re all seated in a circle, Vic beside him with her feet curled up under her, not leaving his side just like she’d promised — though her attention is held by Ellis, who’s currently cross-legged on her other side.

The beer bottle from earlier is slowly spinning to a stop, the long throat of it threatening to land on any of them. It finally does, and the first victim is David Metcalfe, with Rebecca White gleefully sat right across from him.

He’s barely uttered the word, “Dare,” when she says, “Give me a lapdance.”

Only there’s nothing about her tone that’s joking, her desire for David apparent to everyone sitting across the space. But David doesn’t blink at the audacity of the request, just smiles and raises his eyebrows, as if to say, You sure about that?

Rebecca’s appraising smile is more than enough answer, but she still adds a flirtatious, “Why? Too scared to accept?”

“Not at all,” David grins back proudly, getting to his feet and walking over, his own eyes fixed on Rebecca and her completely white “hippie” costume — complete with a flower crown that looks almost like a halo.

Get a room, Aaron thinks rolling his eyes. Though even he has to admire David’s football captain physique. The older boy doesn’t need to take his shirt off, but he does so anyway, looping the red fabric around Rebecca’s neck when he gets to her. He’s clothed in nothing but running shoes and the football shorts of his David Beckham costume as he tries to move to a rhythm of his own making. It’s not much to look at, David’s movements kind of jerky, but Rebecca and the rest of their classmates seem to be enjoying it. Aaron shakes his head as his scowl deepens.

When David’s finally done he gets a round of whoops and hollers, and what looks like Rebecca saying, “Call me.”

He comes back and takes his seat, his shirt still off, and the spinning of the bottle commences. After a few long seconds, it falls on Ellis, the base of the bottle ceding power to Tracy Shankley.

“Truth or dare?” What’s meant to be a sexy bee asks.

“Truth,” Ellis answers her question boldly.

“Describe your crush,” Tracy says with a smile. Aaron immediately turns to look at Ellis when she says that. To his credit, his friend doesn’t look like he’s sweating.

“Well,” Ellis says, after clearing his throat. “She’s sweet, and clever, and funny.”

He takes a brief pause and it’s the most nervous Aaron’s ever seen him, before he says, “And she’s sitting right next to me.”

Ellis turns to Vic as he says that, giving her a nervous smile. From where he’s sitting, Aaron just smiles, happy for his best friend and her potential new boyfriend.

“Do you really fancy me?” Vic asks in a small voice, after a few seconds have ticked on by. The shock on her face is loud and clear.

“Yeah,” Ellis says bashfully. “Have for a while now.”

“I like you too,” Vic beams right back. She reaches between them and gives Ellis’ hand a squeeze. They sit there, both holding and smiling.

The moment is ruined by Tracy’s loud, “Awww. This is so sweet! Kiss him!”

At the behest of the other cheering members of the circle, Vic leans forward and gives Ellis a quick peck on the cheeks. Tracy looks like she’s about to protest, but then she catches Aaron’s eye. He glares at her and she looks like she’s going to back off.

“Who’s going next?” She asks, crawling forward enthusiastically. She give the bottle a spin and moves between them. As it’s about to come to a stop, there’s a really loud bang. Everyone sitting there startles.

“I have a question,” a loud voice booms. Aaron immediately turns towards the source of it. Looking behind him, he finds a drunken-looking Daz, his knees already wobbly from the alcohol.

“Why did Bernice dump me?!” He demands, not quite focusing on anyone’s face, just flickering from person to person between hiccoughs.

“Think the answer’s pretty obvious,” Kerry fires back from where she’s sitting. “Look at the state of yourself! She deserves better.”

“What are you doing here?” Chrissie follows up, rising off the ground. “I didn’t invite you! Leave or I’ll call the police!”

It takes Daz Spencer a long moment to process this edict, his face going on a journey of emotion before collapsing in a flood of tears.

“Where’s Bernice?! I-just-want-to-talk-to-her…” He half-whines-half-whimpers in a slur. Aaron doesn’t know whether to look down or feel bad for him. “Need to tell-her-I-love-her…”

“Mate just go,” Jimmy King says, getting to his feet as well. His bear costume coupled with his tall height and muscles makes him look even more imposing. Being the captain of the rugby team finally good for something. “Bernice clearly doesn’t want to see you. It’s probably just best to stay away from her.”

He moves towards him like he’s going to show him out, but then Daz stumbles backwards and nearly falls over. As he tries to straighten himself up and find his balance, any argument dying on his lips. So when he looks back them, he’s just tear-stained and clueless.

“Okay! I’ll go!” He loudly declares. “But tell Bernice I love her!”

It’s followed up by a loud, heaving sob, the tears coming once more. “And ask her why she did this.”

Jimmy stands his ground, watching Daz walk away. The second he’s left the room, a sigh of relief passes through it.

“Thank goodness he’s gone,” Chrissie says out loud. “I thought he was going to make more of a scene.”

“Forget about him!” Kerry declares from a few people over. “That’s just Daz. If there’s any event, he’s gonna go and ruin it. No need to let him spoil ya party.”

“Guess you’re right,” Chrissie says with a smile. She turns to address the rest of them. “Whose turn is it?”

“No one’s!” Tracy announces, and Aaron sees that she’s right. The bottle’s stalled between Priya and David.

She crawls forward and gives it another excited go. The bottle moving faster and then finally, slower.

Aaron’s pulse starts to quicken with each slowed down movement, until the bottle’s nose comes to a close and then fixes on him. He swallows nervously, and looks up to see who’ll be presenting him with his options. His heart jumps in his throat when he finds that it’s-

Robert.

His chest starts to tighten and he tries to think how this happened, when Robert Sugden slipped in and joined this circle. It must have been during this whole thing with Daz, when he’d distracted Aaron and his attention. There’s no chance of escape, not with everyone’s eyes on him; with everyone expecting something.

“Truth or dare?” Robert poses the question, with a smirk. But it gives away nothing about how he’s really feeling.

Aaron studies him carefully, but he can’t seem to get a read, can’t find any knowing twinkle in Robert’s eyes, or any knowingness to his gaze, just senses a kind of thrumming tension revving up in his half-naked body.

It’s now or never, Aaron thinks, considering his upcoming outing; for Robert to reveal he’s gay to everyone present.

Deciding to face it head on, he holds Robert’s stare. Not wanting to give him any sort of satisfaction.

“Dare,” Aaron half-growls, and a beat passes between them, Robert appearing to accept his answer.

It’s as he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, that Robert’s eyes turn considering. And then it’s gone in an instant, hidden behind that newly-formed smirk. The one that looks like every other one Aaron sometimes wishes he could punch away.

“I dare you…” Robert says slowly, a half-smile hooking at the corner of his lips. Aaron can’t stand to hear what he says next.

“To steal a bottle of scotch from the cellar.”

It catches Aaron by surprise, like a hiccough in his chest. He feels his heart skip a beat and then spasm.

“Is that all?” He asks, his voice sounding rough, like he can barely catch his breath now that it’s been stolen.

“Yes,” Robert says after a long, pregnant pause. Then he adds, “But I’m coming with you.”

“Why?” Aaron questions, with a half glare. This is easily a one-man job he can manage.

“To make sure you pick something good,” Robert says like it’s obvious.

Aaron looks across at Chrissie. “And you’re alright with this? With us stealin’ from your dad.”

He can feel Robert thinking, You didn’t seem to have a problem with it earlier. So he refuses to meet his eyes again.

Chrissie doesn’t say no, but she doesn’t say yes. She just looks thoughtfully from Robert over to Aaron. “I’m sure he won’t miss one bottle if it’s gone. Just make sure it’s nothing too expensive.”

When Aaron does turn back to Robert, he’s grinning at him like, See?

He just scowls back at him in response.

“Don’t tell me you’re having cold feet,” Robert resorts to teasing, his tone too smug for the occasion. “Thought all you Dingles loved stealing things.”

The attempt to goad is too obvious and Aaron simply rolls his eyes as he brings himself to standing. “It’s called having a conscience. You should try it sometime.”

Robert doesn’t respond, just continues to smirk. When Aaron looks over at him, there’s a light in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Despite himself, the pit of his stomach fills with dread, a cousin to the kind he’d felt earlier.

“Now what you waiting for?” He demands of the still seated Robert. “Not so bold now are ya?”

Robert raises an eyebrow and then takes his time getting up — even making a show of stretching when he is eventually standing. Aaron shakes his head but he also can’t help but stare at the way Robert’s muscles move under the light; a shifting collection of freckles dotting his skin.

Looking back at Robert’s face, it seems like he’s clocked him, as if he was aware of what Aaron was doing. Unwilling to stand the scrutiny or examine what those seconds earlier might mean, Aaron lets out a huff of frustration and storms off in the direction of the cellar. “I’m going. Come if you want to.”

He hears hasty footsteps follow behind him.

:::::

As soon as they enter the cellar room where Lawrence White stores his scotch, Aaron spins around and rounds in on Robert, pressing one arm across his bare and naked chest.

“What you playin’ at?” He growls, moving even closer. Robert’s back is now pinned against the cool brick wall behind him, a shiver passing through him and into Aaron. “Why’d you bring me down here?”

“I didn’t ‘bring’ you anywhere,” Robert argues back smugly, looking him straight in the eye. “You came here by yourself.”

A second later he adds, “I told you, Aaron. I’m just here to make sure you don’t mess up and pick the wrong bottle.”

Aaron searches Robert’s gaze, and it seems like he’s telling the truth. But he still can’t bring himself to trust him.

“Why didn’t you tell everyone?” He asks, his voice just above a whisper, a part of him scared that his voice might somehow travel.

Robert stares back at him for a long hard second. Then he swallows and looks down and replies, “Not my secret to tell, is it?”

He hasn’t struck Aaron, but he might as well have, an unexpected earnestness coming through loud and clear. The surprising reply causes Aaron to let go and step away — though not without one more firm push against Robert’s chest. That earns him a soft moan, as the breath leaves Robert’s lips, the feel of it tickling Aaron’s earlobes.

As he comes back to standing, Robert makes a big show of rubbing his chest, long fingers massaging his uncovered pectorals.

“Let’s find it and get out of here,” Aaron grumbles, turning around, though the sight of it is burned into his retinas.

Robert comes to join him, standing on his right.

“Let’s not be hasty,” he warns, tone light and casual. “We’ve only got one proper shot at this.”

Aaron’s brow furrows as he takes in Robert’s words, the lightness of their tone and meaning. He quietly studies him, taking in his profile from the side; the relaxed swoop of his shoulders and the almost smile on his lips as he stands there and studies each bottle appraisingly. The moment from a few seconds ago might as well have not happened, Robert acting as if they’re old mates all of a sudden.

Aaron tears his eyes away and focuses on the matter at hand — and not the way Robert Sugden sometimes hums when he’s thinking.

“How about this?” Aaron asks after a minute of searching. He’s done and he just wants to get out of here.

He shows it to Robert, who makes a face at his selection. Aaron frowns at his unexpected pickiness and places the bottle back.

“When did you get a taste for scotch anyway?” The question slips out as soon as he thinks it. He doesn’t care if it’s too rude a query.

“I have a taste for a lot of things,” Robert answers, throwing him a look. His voice is pitched low and Aaron nearly loses focus.

Then without warning, Robert steps closer, reaching for a bottle over Aaron’s left shoulder. In his surprise, Aaron takes a step back, his back bumping into the shelves behind him.

“Find what you were looking for?” He asks, his voice kind of breathy. He’d be more concerned about that if he weren’t already trying to get his pulse under control, his heartbeat having sped up rapidly in the span of the minute it takes Robert to notice him.

Robert doesn’t answer, just seems to forget what he was doing, his arm suspended over Aaron’s shoulder as his eyes drop down; first to his eyes and then his lips.

Aaron clears his throat after what feels like a moment of staring. His throat feels parched, his lips even more so. He moves to quickly moisten them.

He opens his mouth to talk but trails off as he catches sight of Robert’s eyes following his own tongue’s movement, green jade turning darker by the second.

“Uh… We should-” He tries, his mind feeling fuzzy. There’s only space in there now for a pair of pink lips, and bright, darting tongue — the narrow tip of it already driving him crazy.

Any other semblance of thought is pushed out of his head when he sees Robert nod, before his lips finally start moving towards his.

They draw closer together, two satellites floating in orbit, before Robert leaps and closes the distance.

Robert’s lips are softer and moister than expected, the force of the kiss sends his back bumping into the shelving behind him, bouncing off it and back into Robert. Within seconds Robert’s fingers are stroking against the grain of his hair, and his other hand tugging Aaron closer by the waist where he’s holding him. Aaron’s own hands clasp at Robert’s upper arms, an effort on his part to steady himself as the kiss grows deeper and deeper.

He can hear Robert’s groans, can feel them against his tongue, as he starts to rub the beginnings of his erection against the stirrings of his own one; cotton pants bumping and rubbing against denim.

Just when it feels like things are about to progress, there’s a loud noise to the side and they both spring apart gasping.

Before Aaron can find his bearings, and reclaim the fragments of his scattered mind, a familiar face appears from around the corner.

“Bernice? Is that you…? Are-you-in-here?”

He wonders how much he saw — or rather, how much he heard —  when Daz Spencer finally staggers in, not much soberer than he’d been half an hour ago. Aaron sighs inwardly, but Robert’s face screams murder, as he clenches his jaw and goes up to him.

“What do you think?” He sneers at Daz, who looks a bit taken aback — probably because he hadn’t expected to come in here and find either of them. “Why would Bernice be in some cellar? Oh yeah. She’s hiding from you.”

Daz’s eyes widen as the words start to sink in, and then he starts to blubber, tears and snot running down his face. This seems to annoy Robert even more, his shoulders tensing in anger.

“Oh grow up,” Robert says rolling his eyes. “What makes you think she’d want to be with someone like you. Look at you. You’re pathetic.”

That shuts Daz up, as he goes stock still, just stands there staring and blinking. “Wh-what did you say?”

“I said you’re pathetic,” Robert repeats, before adding, “You really think this is going to convince her to get back together with you?”

His tone is cruel and pointed as he gestures to Daz’s booze-soaked and rumpled appearance, his hair unwashed and curls flat. “If you want her back, then do something about. Do something that’ll make her listen.”

“L-like what?” Daz asks, hope dawning in his eyes. Aaron thinks he’s gotten the wrong takeaway from this lesson.

“I don’t know, tie her up?” Robert jokes, no longer mad, but clearly disinterested. “All I know is you’re going to have to do something pretty big if you want her to win her back. Her and Liam looked pretty cosy earlier.”

That snuffs out all trace of happy emotion on Daz’s face. It’s clear he didn’t know about Bernice starting to date the best student in all of Year 12.

Daz steps backwards, the shock leaving him blubbering. Then he turns and trudges back upstairs, his every step sounding more woebegone and shattered than the last one. But Aaron can’t bring himself to care too much about it.

Not with Robert Sugden still standing before him.

He’s yet to turn to face him, so Aaron takes a moment to admire his back, that same thrum of desire firing up within him as he looks at the myriad of freckles. He has to stop himself from reaching out to touch it. From touching Robert Sugden.

He already remembers the feel of his skin on his, lithe swimmer’s muscles sliding under smooth, velvety skin. Aaron wants nothing more than to run his palm over it again, to feel his hands trace each and every muscle.

Robert Sugden kissed me.

When Robert does turn around he doesn’t look at Aaron, just focuses on the shelf of alcohol behind him. As he goes for the scotch bottle, Aaron gets in his way, forcing him to look over at him.

“We need to talk,” Aaron tries to state calmly, while trying to stop his attention from drifting down to Robert’s lips.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Robert answers, still refusing to meet his eyes. He reaches for the bottle he wants to retrieve.  

“Yes, there is,” Aaron insists, stepping to his right to remain in Robert’s eye line. His head blocking access to the bottle. “You’re the one who brought me down here and kissed me.”

When it doesn’t work he shakes his head and tries again. “Just admit it, Robert. You’re actually gay.”

“No, I’m not,” Robert argues, eyes flashing darkly. He finally turns to look at Aaron.

“Alright then,” Aaron shrugs, accepting the protest. “Bisexual or whatever. Why are you tryin’ to deny it?”

He’s starting to get worked up now. There had been something there. He knows Robert probably also felt it.

When he doesn’t get a response he tries yet another track.

“Then what was all this about?” He gestures between them. “Do you even like Chrissie?”

“Of course, I do.” Robert actually answers, his tone making it seem like Aaron’s being ridiculous. He tries to reach for the bottle again but is blocked once more by Aaron.

But this time his face is hovering just centimetres, Aaron could kiss him again if he wanted.

“Is that why you’re still here with me, instead of up there with her?” Aaron challenges softly. “Face it. You could have taken any of these bottles and left by now.”

Robert just swallows and keeps staring into Aaron’s eyes. It looks like he’s searching for some kind of answer.

Inside of Aaron, a thrill starts to rise. Did he maybe get through to Robert Sugden?

He bites his lip, and looks over at Robert’s, wanting nothing more than to resume their kissing. But after a long battle, the shutters come down. And Robert steps back and grabs a random bottle.

Aaron just stands there, barely comprehending what’s happening, as it starts to dawn on him that Robert took him up on his other offer. He watches the other boy walk away, without even so much as a backwards glance. The air in the room grows colder.  

:::::

When he emerges upstairs, the game has been called off. People are back to drinking and dancing. He searches the room for any sign of Robert and his terrified haste — and finds him stood in a corner kissing Chrissie.

It’s like a kick to the chest, even though he hadn’t been expecting much. After all, what canyou expect from Robert Sugden? But even in his mind’s eye, Aaron hadn’t pictured this, a desperate scramble for any semblance of passing straightness.

Sadly, however, that’s not the worst part of all. No, that would be the fact that he can still feel every inch of that kiss: Robert’s fingers stroking fingers through his hair the groan into his mouth, the firmness of Robert’s body pressed up against his. Despite his initial surprise, Aaron had enjoyed that kiss, best one yet in his thus far still young life. The second it had ended he could feel himself crave more — but then this whole mess with Daz’s interruption had happened, thus ensuring he wouldn’t be able to go back for seconds.

As he resists the urge to run his fingers over his lips and recreate that sensation goes through Aaron’s mind, Robert’s eyes open mid-kiss and he sees him. But instead of acting sheepish or even apologetic about what he’s doing, he just shuts his eyes again and lets his and Chrissie’s kiss deepen, his hands slowly roving over her body. The bottle of scotch sits there unopened.

It’s the final push that Aaron needs to finally make his move and exit the party — the party he hadn’t even wanted to come to in the first place.

As he’s heading for the door, he hears someone call his name. He turns to find Vic standing there, arms crossed and pouting. “Don’t tell me you’re already leaving.”

“Why do you care?” He asks, emotionally ravaged. He doesn’t think he can handle dealing with another Sugden so soon after the first one. “Go and hang out with your boyfriend.”

He sees her flinch at that and he immediately feels bad about it. But right now he’s feeling worse for himself.

“Ellis isn’t-“ Vic starts, before stopping and realising his tactics, seeing his attempt to push him away for what it is. “Please stay. We never really get to do stuff like this.”

“Yeah. Well, there’s a pretty good reason,” Aaron says turning to reach for the front door handle.

“What did Robert do this time?” Vic asks with a sigh.

“Who says it has anything to do with Robert?” Aaron lies to her face. A familiar twinge of guilt accompanies it.

“You’ve got that look on your face,” Vic points out like it’s obvious.

Like Aaron has spent enough time moaning and groaning about Robert Sugden that he now has an expression completely dedicated to him. Aaron doesn’t believe it, just rolls his eyes at her.

Vic doesn’t say anything just waits for him to disclose. Aaron bites his tongue and tamps down on it. Robert’s inherent queerness and refusal to accept it, despite kissing him, isn’t a truth he can share. Robert’s words now echo in his head.

Not my story to tell, is it?

Aaron finally sighs, tired of their stalemate, and refusing to budge on a confession.

“I’m going home,” he tells her firmly as his grip on the front door handle firms. “This was… great. See ya later.”

The twists and pulls and the door swings open. Something, or rather, someone almost falls onto Aaron, and lands at his feet instead when he sidesteps him.

It takes Aaron a second — and several more after that — to process what he’s looking at. Lying there in front of him is the body of a tall teenage boy. He’s dressed like Tim Curry from Rocky Horror.

“Are you alright?” Vic asks, her concern loud and clear.

When he doesn’t move, Aaron nudges the boy with his foot.

After still no response, he decides to take matters into his own hands. Aaron bends over and rolls the boy over. “Listen mate the least you can do is try and contribute…”

He stops talking when he recognises the person.

Even with a wig on and some kind of outlandish outfit, Aaron can see that it’s Alex Mason. Only he isn’t drunk, or asleep, or even passed out. If anything he’s actually lifeless.

Aaron’s eyes immediately flying to his throat, where an angry red gash is still bleeding, the blood dark and red and pooled on that front stoop. It’s now forming a puddle under him.

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Vic’s scream is loud in his ears.

:::::

It’s like she’s screaming forever, and then time stops, before more voices join them out in the hallway.

“Vic! What’s the matter?” Robert’s first on the scene.

He’s followed closely by Chrissie and then a concerned Ellis, most other people probably having chalked it up to some Halloween prank. “Are you alright?”

Vic doesn’t answer, just points at the body.

“Somebody killed Alex,” Aaron tells them, getting to his feet. He’d been checking for a pulse to see if maybe they could save him. But he must have lost a lot of blood, because his body was still a little warm, but also rapidly cooling.

“W-What should we do?” Chrissie’s tone is almost hysterical, her attention is fixed on the body, the shock of seeing it causing her to cry and shut down a bit.

“Call the police,” Aaron suggests quietly, a thought that’s passed his mind several times in the last few minutes.

They all look between them, but not no one volunteers, neither Aaron, nor Vic, nor Chrissie in any shape to do so.

“I’ll do it,” Robert steps up. He turns to Ellis and nods at Vic and says, “Watch her.”

He then takes out his mobile phone from his too-thin pants, and then goes into the next room, leaving the door ajar behind him.

Ellis walks over to Vic, and pulls her close to his side. She wraps her arms around him and lets him guide her to the side of the foyer closest to Aaron and a hyperventilating Chrissie.

Silence settles over them. No one says anything. Vic just sniffles into Ellis’ shoulder.

:::::

When Robert’s returned, no one’s really moved, except for Aaron who’s no longer crouched but standing.

“The police are on their way,” Robert informs them as he comes close. He stands next to Chrissie and across from Aaron.  

“W-we need to tell everyone,” Chrissie finally breaks her silence as she starts to cry. The music is still thumping from the party. “We need to warn them.”

“No!” Robert and Aaron exclaim at the same time. They lock eyes as they do so, but Robert quickly looks away and back at Chrissie.  

“That would just cause more panic,” Robert explains calmly. “The police said we should just stay put. They don’t want anyone tampering with the evidence.”

“Besides,” Aaron adds. “What are we going to tell them? That there’s some killer running around with a knife?”

He snorts. “Like that would go over well.”

There’s a long pause, and then Ellis asks, “So what do we do?”

Aaron and Robert share another look, but this time Robert’s the one to reply, offering up their one and only option. “We do our best to hide him.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” Chrissie nearly shrieks despite Robert’s attempts to calm her. “There’s a dead body lying in my doorway!”

“Why don’t you say that a little louder?” Aaron hisses back. “Think there are some people by the swimming pool who didn’t hear ya.”

Chrissie looks suitably cowed, and even Robert looks relieved. Vic just shuffles closer to Ellis who holds her tighter.

“Well there’s got to be some way to keep everyone distracted,” Robert says when the moment’s finally passed. “Just until the police get here and sort everything.”

“And so we can see that everyone’s safe,” Vic’s voice is small, but she’s still pretty adamant. And it’s that that causes everything that’s happened so far to sink in.

There’s a dead body at their feet and a killer possibly on the loose, and most of their friends are still none the wiser.

“Another game of spin the bottle?” Chrissie suggests hopefully.

Robert shakes his head, but then answers her gently. “We already did that. Don’t reckon anyone would be up for a second round.”

“Maybe we can order pizza?” Ellis throws out there. “People don’t really move when they’re eating.”

“Great idea,” Aaron doesn’t spare the defensive sarcasm. “The delivery guy can just step overthe body.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Robert bite back a smile at his words. It shouldn’t warm his chest so much, but it does so.

That’s when it hits him, what they have to do. The idea is elegant in its simplicity. He’d seen it in one of the many room ground floor rooms when he’d been walking around the place; when he’d been doing his best to avoid Robert.

“I’ve got it,” Aaron says looking around at everyone’s worried faces. In turn, they all turn and look back at him, expectantly.”

He flashes them a small proud grin as he reveals his big plan, “Why don’t we just watch a movie?”

:::::

He’d never tell her this to her face, but Aaron’s almost impressed with the way Chrissie seems to be handling things. She’d put aside her panic and put on a fake smile as she’d marched out and announced this change to her party. From there it hadn’t been hard to corale and shepherd all the guests into her large living room, where she’d started playing Scream on her massive big screen TV.

As the movie starts to play, their small group all gather in a back corner of the room and discuss their findings and observations.

“I-I can’t find Rebecca,” Chrissie’s tone is panicked once more, as she starts to cry from worry about her sister.

“Bernice is missing too,” Vic adds with a sniffle after a moment.

“Don’t worry,” Robert says, though he seems quite a bit stressed himself. “I’m sure they’re off somewhere together.”

This seems to calm both Chrissie and Vic down considerably, but in the pit of his stomach, Aaron knows it’s probably not true — and that Robert himself barely believes it — the likelihood of either girl hanging out and spending time with each other, the remotest of all possibilities.

“Have you tried ringing their mobiles?” Aaron asks Chrissie and Vic. The former nods and tearfully says, “She didn’t pick up, just let it keep ringing.”

“What about Bernice?” Robert asks Vic, who starts to cry as she answers.“She isn’t answering either, and you know her, it’s hard to get her off that thing!”

“Should we go looking for them?” Ellis asks as he checks to see if someone else might be listening in.

Robert gives it a thought and then says, “No point in all of us going. Maybe just one or two of us.”

Ellis looks relieved when he says that but Vic looks pretty worried, she turns to Aaron and says, “Can you at least go with him?”

As much as he doesn’t want to spend this extra time with Robert, Aaron can see that it would go a long way to assuage her worries, Vic clearly worried about losing her big brother to Alex Mason’s killer — and trusting her best friend to keep him safe and protect him.

Aaron gives her a nod, because of course he will. Like Robert, he’s never quite been able to say ‘no’ to Victoria.

When he looks over to Robert, he can see him watching him carefully, but trying to pass it off like he isn’t.

Aaron does his best to mirror that same amount of casualness, as he looks over at him and says, “Probably should. Safety in numbers and all that.”

:::::

They decide to start with the upstairs bedrooms, because even though those were explicitly marked ‘off-limits,’ teenagers are rarely ever staunch rule followers. As they step past the velvet rope at the bottom of the stairs meant to cordon things off, it feels like they’re passing into new kind of territory.

“Reckon we should have some kind of warning?” Aaron asks, keeping his voice low. “You know if one of us does actually meet the killer.”

Robert lets out a chuckle and Aaron immediately turns to look at him, wondering what he finds so amusing.

“Think we’ll even have time for that?” Robert says wryly. “Please. Whoever’s doing this is probably insane. We’ll be lucky if we get out of this with our lives.”

Aaron snorts and shakes his head. “Well, aren’t you ever the optimist.”

“I’m just being honest,” Robert says with a shrug.

“Then what was all that? Downstairs with Vic?” Aaron asks, getting incensed on her behalf now.

“No point in worrying her further,” Robert replies. “Figured finding the body is traumatising enough.”

“So you just lied to her then?” Aaron asks, pausing where he is. “You know what? I don’t know why I’m asking. That’s just typical.”

He continues walking, taking many steps at a time, he bumps into Robert’s shoulder as he walks past him to the top of the stairs.

“Don’t tell me this is about earlier.” Robert exclaims like he can hardly believe it. Like it’s every day you kiss your sister’s best friend who just came out to you, and for all intents and purposes you were clearly attracted to.

But Aaron doesn’t say anything, refuses to even look at him. He doesn’t know what he would even say if he did so.

“What? Just because you think I’m gay,” Robert’s voice continues to be disbelieving and joking.

Brows furrowing and eyes scrunched shut, Aaron scratches his forehead, trying to remember his promise to Victoria. Sure, he’ll get Robert back to her alive and in one piece. But he can’t be held accountable if there’s some facial bruising.

“So you’re not talking to me now,” Robert says, tone growing bitter and almost a little hurt. “That’s real mature. Especially with a killer about. Is this going to be our safe word? Silence?”

“Thought we didn’t need one,” Aaron says, ignoring everything else. He’s decided Robert Sugden isn’t worth all this hassle — even if he is an excellent kisser. “What with there being no time and all.”

He doesn’t need to look at Robert’s face to feel the surprise radiating off of it. Clearly, he’d expected Aaron to put up more of a fight, to keep insisting about his sexuality.

Aaron’s thoughts are confirmed, when Robert pretty much asks, “Not going to tell me I’m gay again?”

He stops in the middle of the hallway, turning to face Robert, who stops and meets his gaze as he does so.

“You know, I’ve met guys like you, who don’t want to accept who they are,” he says with as much stern seriousness as he can muster, like Paddy had last year before he’d come out to him. “So they just lash out at everyone around them. But the only person they’re really hurting is themselves.”

It’s like looking in a mirror, because Robert rolls his eyes just like he did, even trying to joke, “Don’t tell me this is some kind of, ‘It gets better’ mumbo jumbo, because from what I’ve seen you’re not out to everyone.”

The flippant tone doesn’t quite land and there’s a glint of panic behind those eyes. Aaron’s seen and felt it enough times to recognise it.

“No, I’m not,” he accepts with a nod. “But I am to the only person it matters to: Me.”

That seems to stop Robert short, all pretence at joking falling aside, as his face opens up as he studies him.

He looks younger than his age now, floppy blond hair falling down into his face, eyes murky, and pink lips fixed in neutral. Without his shirt on, he somehow looks more lost and alone. Despite his annoyance, Aaron’s heart aches for him.

It’s not easy coming out, he wants to say, but he suspects Robert knows that. Why else would he hide behind so much bluster and bravado?

It’s like he’s about to say something, when there’s a noise at the end of the corridor, from a bedroom door that’s slammed shut all of a sudden.

When he looks back at the older boy, Robert’s defences have shot back up, a hardness to his face that was missing a moment ago. Without waiting for Aaron, he sets off towards the source of the sound, padding slowly onward muscles tense and ready for action.

Aaron watches him for a second, a bit stunned from all this emotional whiplash, but then he starts following him toward it after a second.

There’s a lurching in his gut, and his hair is standing on end, on either side of them, room doors have simply been flung open.

The killer was here, Aaron’s realisation sets in. And they could still be here.

His pulse starts quickening at the thought of it. Judging by the way Robert’s paused outside this final door, he’s having the same thought run through his own mind.

“Should we wait for the police?” Aaron whispers, leaning a little closer. He’s once again hit with that same familiar scent combination of sweat, and beer, and body spray.

Robert shakes his head no, eyes fixed on the door knob, as if mentally running through the various scenarios of what lies behind it.

The longer they stand and wait, the worse the pictures in his head get; of some burglary gone wrong, the intruder dressed in all-black with a balaclava on, a bloody knife clasped in his hand.

But what kind of burglar would slit a teenager’s throat by the front door? Robert’s theory that they’re crazy is growing stronger. That cold pit forming in his stomach, grows several feet deeper, as sweat starts to form on his brow now.

While this is going through his mind, Robert seems to have found some courage, his hand reaching out for the doorknob. He looks up at Aaron and gives him a nod, as his fingers wrap around and twist it…

Maybe we need that safeword after all.

:::::

It’s somehow better than they’d hoped for, and a thousand times worse, as what appears to be the inside of a girl’s bedroom looks pretty much ransacked.

But while Aaron seems to tense, Robert just relaxes. He seems more relieved than anything “Don’t worry. This is just how Rebecca’s room look all the time. Chrissie’s always going on about it.”

Aaron tries to smile and nod, but that sick feeling won’t seem to settle, all his hairs standing on end. He listens to his gut, which has yet to steer him wrong. The same gut that told him to go to the cellar with Robert.

He decides to listen to it, walks over to the other side of the bed, some part of him feeling like he’s violating this unspoken code of privacy without asking. But he’d rather do that, than not listen to this feeling, Rebecca’s annoyance a small price to pay for acknowledgement of her safety.

As he grows nearer, his heart rate starts to race. He thinks he hears Robert talking to him in the distance — or perhaps just asking him a question.

Before he can answer, his eyes catch sight of it, the sight of it, a sucker punch to the solar plexus.

David’s half-naked body is laying on the floor, his torso covered in blood and what appears to be three different stab wounds — but that’s nothing compared to Rebecca.

She’s in a crumpled heap, her white dress turned a deep and dark kind of red, the epicentre of the spread bloodstain resting over her heart. Aaron doesn’t need to check to see if they’re both dead. He barely hears himself call out, “R-Robert.”

The other boy’s by his side in less than a second. Aaron takes a step back, and stumbles over one of Rebecca’s shoes, but he doesn’t fall backwards, just straight into Robert, who catches him; letting Aaron just lean there against him, as he holds onto both upper arms. Though part of it feels like it’s to keep himself steady as he processes it.

“Are they?” He whispers, into Aaron’s ear.

He nods, barely able to make himself say, “They are.”

It’s the number more than anything that hits him the hardest, not even the bloodiness or the sheer violence. It’s the fact that they’d come up here searching for one missing girl, only to find two dead bodies for the price of one.

What are we going to tell Vic? Aaron thinks frantically. What are we going to tell Chrissie?

“We can’t tell Chrissie,” Robert says, finally letting go of Aaron. There’s an underlying current of panic in his voice and Aaron gets it. “At least not until the police get here.”

He looks at Aaron like he’s expecting him to yell, but Aaron understands this decision for what it is: kindness.

“Sounds like a plan.” His voice sounds foreign to his own ears. Though nothing about any of this is even remotely normal: Murder. Dead bodies. Robert.

The thought of the last one causes laughter to bubble out of his chest. He stands there spluttering and snickering. Robert just looks at him like he’s crazy.

“What?” He finally asks, when it seems like Aaron isn’t going to calm down anytime soon.

“I told Vic I didn’t want to even come to this party,” he tells him as his amusement finally starts to die down. That part of his night feeling like a million years away. “Guess I was right after all.”

Robert smiles at that, before looking away.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you came,” he says softly.

It’s so sweet and earnest that Aaron thinks he almost misheard. Still he’s not able to stop that part of himself that mocks, Are you glad you kissed me?

But he doesn’t say anything, just clears his throat and comes back to serious, doing his best to address the matter at hand. “We still need to find Bernice before she runs into this killer by accident.”

Robert nods in agreement. “We should check the bathrooms. Maybe she snuck up here for a wee or something.”

Aaron starts to nod, but then he remembers one crucial thing: Bernice isn’t here. She’s at the cabin.

:::::

“What do you think they’re after?”

Robert’s question cuts through the silence that’s formed between them after Aaron had told him about the keys and the cabin.

“And of course she’s not picking up!” He’d exclaimed in frightened frustration after trying Bernice for fourth time in a minute. “Probably too busy with Liam.”

“Do you have his number?” Aaron had then asked, having thought that the other boy hardly seemed like the kind who’d leave a ringing phone unanswered.

“Why would I have that?” Robert had asked him back puzzled, like this was a matter of social standing and not life and death. “Didn’t think he even had any friends, let alone a girlfriend.”

Despite himself, Aaron had chuckled, more amused by Robert’s words than he’d ever let on. The look on Robert’s face had been priceless.

“What?” Aaron had asked, going from light to conscientious.

“Nothing,” Robert had said, shaking his head. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile. That’s all.”

“Maybe say something that’s actually funny for once.” Aaron hadn’t been able to keep himself from making that dig. And now Robert’s shocked expression is stored in his memory.  

“Not sure,” he replies, as they go down the stairs. “There’s hardly any sort of ‘pattern.’”

Robert nods but he looks like he’s still considering something, a dog gnawing a mental bone in his head.

When they get back to the room where everyone’s watching the movie, Chrissie leaps up to greet them.

“Did you find her?” She demands anxiously. “Did you find Rebecca? She’s still not answering her phone.”

When Robert fails to answer, Aaron immediately steps in, sticking to the plan for both of them.

“She wasn’t up there,” he lies, not even bringing up David. Chrissie’s face is a mixture of relief and disappointment. Robert just looks like a truck hit him — or perhaps the gravity of the truth of it.

Three people in this house are dead.

“What about Bernice?” Vic asks again. “She’s not answering either.”

Thankfully he doesn’t have to lie for this one. “Bernice and Liam snuck out to one of the cabins. They’re probably there right now.”

“She what?!” Chrissie sounds annoyed, and for that he’s kind of grateful, not wanting her to go back to the topic of her now-dead sister.

Still, he doesn’t meet Chrissie’s eyes, feeling a bit guilty about the role he’d played in this whole mess. If he hadn’t helped her steal those keys, Bernice would be safe and watching the movie.

Would she really? Look at David and Rebecca.

Behind the shut door, something scary must happen in the movie, because everyone screams, with Kerry and Tracy competing for the loudest.

“Now’s not the time,” Robert says, having recovered. “We need to go warn them. You three stay here and wait for the police.”

Vic’s face drops, torn between concern for her brother’s continued safety and confirmation of her older step-sister’s. Her kind heart must win, because she nods in agreement. But not before leaving Ellis to rush forward and hug Robert.

“Be safe,” she warns, squeezing him tight. Then she lets go and does the same to Aaron.

He hugs her back as well, not realising how much he’d needed this, the last hour really taking its toll on him.

When they let go, she goes to comfort Chrissie, “Don’t worry. Maybe they’ll run into Rebecca when they go to bring Bernice. You know how she is. Probably just lost her phone, like normal.”

“Yeah,” Chrissie smiles, though her eyes are lined with unshed tears. “Trust her to do something like that during all this.”

Vic smiles at her and then goes to lead her inside. But she turns back and says, “Hurry back and be careful.”

“Yeah, good luck,” Ellis chimes in, giving them a nod. He’s about to follow Vic and Chrissie when Robert grabs his arm, stilling him.

“Rebecca’s dead,” Aaron whispers. Ellis’ brows shoot up at the revelation. “So’s David.”

His jaw drops open at that one.

“We didn’t want Chrissie doing anything rash or hasty,” Robert explains, looking behind Ellis to see if Vic or Chrissie have noticed. “There’s still someone out there killing people.”

Ellis nods, confirming his understanding. “So what do you want me to do about it?”

“Tell the police when they get here,” Aaron informs him. His stomach lurches as he adds, “They’re in her bedroom.”

Ellis just nods, because there’s not much else to say. He started out the night getting a girlfriend, and is now ending it covering up the knowledge of three dead bodies. Aaron knows exactly how he feels.

“Call us when the police get here,” Robert says, when no one else says anything.

“Will do,” Ellis says, his voice as shocked as he’s trying not to look. Aaron just hopes he’s able to keep the secret until they get here.

As he watches Ellis go back inside, and join Vic and Chrissie, Aaron contemplates stopping by the kitchen for a shot of alcohol. Based on the look on his face, Robert feels the same. But they can’t because time is of the essence.

:::::

Maybe it’s uncovering all the murder, or maybe it’s just because they’re straddling both autumn and winter, but the night air is chillier when they go out there. It’s also managed to get so much windier.

A cold gust blows, and Robert shivers beside him. It causes Aaron to chuckle.

“What?” Robert asks, arms crossed against his chest. Aaron thinks he heard his teeth chatter.

“We could have stopped to get a coat, you know,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Don’t want to end the night with four dead bodies.”

He knows the joke’s in poor taste, but Robert still laughs, the reaction almost hilariously dependable.

“Didn’t think it would be this cold, did I?” Robert barely manages his voice kind of wavering. It’s clear that he’s freezing. But Aaron still hears the underlying message: Didn’t think I’d be traipsing around Home Farm to warn my step-sister about a killer, did I?

Aaron just sighs and stops walking immediately. Robert stops too and looks at him in confusion. Aaron unzips his jacket and shrugs out of it and hands it over to him. “Don’t want you to freeze to death before we get there.”

Robert looks like he’s going to argue, but the wind picks up. Aaron can feel it even through his thick hoodie. Robert grabs the puffy jacket he’s holding out in his hands, and shrugs it on as he shivers a, “Thank you.”

“What were you even supposed to be anyway?” Aaron asks in an effort to distract from the sight of Robert Sugden now wearing his coat; at the strip of pale freckled chest that’s still exposed, given that he’s done nothing to zip it up.

“The genie. From Aladdin,” Robert answers like it’s obvious. Like he doesn’t look like he’s just a guy walking around shirtless with flimsy white exercise pants and trainers.

“Thought the genie was supposed to be blue,” Aaron points out the obvious.

“But that would take too much time,” Robert explains. “And why would I want to cover any of this up?”

There’s something about the way he gestures at himself, that makes Aaron burst out laughing immediately.

Under the pale moonlight, he can see that Robert’s blushing furiously. His heart skips a beat at the cuteness of it. Aaron shakes his head and focuses in front of him. As evidenced earlier, even thinking about the possibility of a romance with Robert Sugden is a path best not travelled.

They settle into silence, nothing but the wind through the trees, and the dead leaves and gravel crunching under them, and yet Aaron doesn’t feel scared or lonely. He regrets not asking for torches before they’d left the house, but having Robert by his side is still calming.

“I like you, you know.”

He almost misses it, because the wind picks up. But when he looks at Robert’s face he can see that he means it. He looks shocked at the admission, as if not having expected it; a thought that was meant to remain solely in his head.

Aaron looks back at the path in front of them. The cabin isn’t too far in the distance.

“Funny way of showing it,” he replies after a long beat. “Didn’t think you could run away fast enough after we kissed.”

“I was scared.” Robert says, his voice loud and defensive.

“Being gay isn’t scary,” Aaron points out. He’s living proof of that isn’t he? He remembers the first few tremors of fear he’d felt when he’d looked at other boys, and felt the stirrings of something that felt like attraction.

“Stop saying that,” Robert is insistent. But before Aaron can bring up his admission from a few minutes ago, he answers, “I’m not gay. I’m bisexual.”

The word hangs in the air, just floating between them. Not even the increasingly strong wind able to blow it away from them. When Aaron sneaks a glance, Robert looks infinitely calmer, his posture growing taller, straighter, more confident.

“Oh.” Aaron says, rolling the word over in his mind. He’d considered it earlier, but it’s nice to finally have confirmation.

“Why didn’t you just say that?” He asks after a beat. “I even asked you about it earlier?”

“Why don’t you just tell everyone you meet you’re gay?” Robert answers the question with a question.

He has a point and Aaron acknowledges that. “Fair enough.”

They continue walking, the growing cabin numbers signalling that they’re growing closer. But Aaron doesn’t want to even think about what they might encounter.

“Does your family know?” He asks just as Robert asks, “Do you like me?”

They both stop walking, stunned by each other’s questions. When Aaron turns to face him, Robert shakes his head and looks away. “No. Haven’t even told Vic.”

Aaron nods in understanding and then offers up an answer of his own. “Well, I don’t shove my tongue down the throat of every bloke I meet. I can tell you that.”

He starts walking and Robert falls into step beside him. His elbow bumping into Aaron’s as he keeps hands in the pockets of Aaron’s jacket.

“Never really thought about you, did I?” Aaron offers up the truth. “Just thought you were Vic’s headcase of an older brother.”

Robert’s quiet for a bit, then quietly admits, “I thought about you.”

“You did?” Aaron asks, completely staggered.

“Yeah,” Robert sounds rueful. “It’s why I’ve been so hard on you. I hated the thought of Vic dating you.”

Now that he’s said, some pieces start to fall into place for Aaron — namely the fact that his grudge hadn’t been entirely about Robert’s treatment of Debbie, as much as his having been with her in the first place.

“Then why’d you go back to Chrissie, after kissing me?” It’s the closest he’ll come to admitting he was jealous and that it pained him.

“Thought it might change things,” Robert’s actually honest. “Thought it might change me.”

“And did it?” Aaron asks, feeling kind of breathless, his pulse is racing and they’re careening into something.

“Yes,” Robert says, but he doesn’t offer anything else up. Aaron’s heart droops in disappointment.

They walk a little longer, both boys lost in thought, elbows occasionally bumping into each other. Then Aaron asks, “So what now?”

“What do you mean?” Robert asks confused.

“Well you had better ask me out, haven’t you?” It’s meant to sound like a tease, but it’s actually a semi-earnest request, it finally sinking into Aaron that he might like him. (Though if he’s being honest, he’s liked Robert for a while now. Tonight’s just the first night he’s been able to recognise that.)

“Wait. Did you think something was going to happen between?” Robert asks. He sounds genuinely surprised. Aaron’s betrayed blood starts to boil immediately.

“Then what was the point of all this?” He gestures between them. “Why’d you even tell me that you like me?!”

“Because I do!” He can tell Robert means that — at least as much as he can — but that doesn’t stop it being any less confusing.  

“People don’t treat people they like, like this.” Aaron replies with plenty of sureness. “You don’t tell someone you like them and not date them!”

Robert still looks scared, and normally Aaron would be kinder, he knows better than anyone how hard self-acceptance is. But it’s been a long few hours, and this feels he’s reached his breaking point. He can’t find any sort of kindness within him. Not when his heart is stinging the way it currently is.

“After everything tonight, you’re still scared of what people might think of you?” Aaron does his best to name Robert’s fear for what it is. “Robert, we found three dead bodies.”

And just like that, he can’t stand the sight of him anymore. His stomach just feeling queasy and his heart aches. So when he sees cabin 12-04 and how close it is, he leaves Robert and marches himself over.

“Aaron wait-” Robert calls behind him. His fingers briefly grasp Aaron’s elbow, but he yanks it out of reach. He doesn’t want to accidentally end up punching him. At least not now, with a killer on the loose. All bets will be off later.

Without calling for Bernice, or even trying to knock, Aaron just grabs the door handle and opens it…

The first thing he sees are Bernice’s petrified eyes, the teenage girl, tied and gagged to the radiator. The second thing he sees is the barrel of a rifle. And the third is the crazed, bloodshot eyes of Daz Spencer.

Fuck.

:::::

“Aaron come back!” Robert’s voice comes crashing in right after him. “We need to talk about-”

Robert shuts up the moment he barrels right in, ending up standing next to Aaron. It takes him a second to process everything and then burst into laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Daz demands, waving the gun between both of them. At least it seems like he’s sobered up from earlier.

That seems to calm Robert down, quickly enough. But it doesn’t stop him mouthing off to Aaron. “Can you believe that all of this is because of this idiot?”

Without waiting to see how Daz will respond, or even Aaron’s reply, Robert immediately looks over at Bernice. “You definitely know how to pick them.”

“Shut up!” Daz exclaims, pointing the gun in Robert’s face. But this only makes him laugh all the harder.

Seeing Daz’s finger tighten around the trigger, Aaron’s heart leaps and he tries to neutralise the situation. “Why are you doing all this?”

Daz’s finger loosens once again. But Aaron’s not done trying to distract him. “Why’d you kill all those people back up at Home Farm?”

Bernice lets out a mortified eep from where she’s sitting.

Daz flashes them a smile, looking more crazed in the moonlight, the shadows making him look more menacing than he is usually. “It was all Robert’s idea.”

“I didn’t tell you to murder anyone!” Robert yells back in shock.

But Daz barely pays attention to him as he monologues. “He told me I should do something to make her listen.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Robert protests, but Daz is too pleased with himself to really hear it.

“Alright, but what does that have to do Alex?” Aaron asks, trying to find some kind of reason to the madness.

“I thought he was Liam,” Daz explains. He gestures at a crumpled body in the corner and Aaron’s heart sinks. He hopes that the other boy — also wearing blue scrubs — is simply passed out or unconscious.

“Alright,” he says, not to drag out the matter. “What about Rebecca and David?”

This one, Daz actually looks sad about. “I thought she was Bernice. I heard her giggling on the stairs. Didn’t realise she was also dressed like an angel.”

Daz thinks for a second, and then he shrugs. “David just caught me as I was leaving.”

“And then you decided to go for the gun,” Robert observes sarcastically. Aaron shoots him a glare as he adds, “Good job. Knives are so messy.”

“Shut up and let me think!” Daz yells in his face. Though Robert doesn’t look like he’s going to. Daz once again brings up the rifle and points it at him.

Aaron’s heart beats even faster at this newly added factor, his chest filling up with worry for Robert even though he’s still mad at him.

“I know how you feel,” he declares, as loudly as he can. He’s hoping it’ll distract Daz enough to put the gun down.

It works because he’s no longer just pointing it at Robert.

“There’s someone I like,” Aaron says, keeping his gaze trained only on Daz. He doesn’t think he could even bring himself to look at Robert right now if he had that option. “But they don’t want anything to do with me either.”

Even though he told me that he likes me.

“Yeah, but it’s not like you tied them to a radiator and pointed a gun in their face,” Robert’s voice chimes in.

Aaron wants nothing more than for him to shut up. Daz apparently has the same kind of intentions. Because he brings up the rifle and points it at Robert, finger on the trigger, as he says, “You know, I’m getting sick and tired of you.”

Without even thinking, Aaron’s moving forward, heading for Daz in a kind of running tackle. His shoulder hits into him and they fall into the ground. As they scuffle the gun goes off, the sound of it ringing loud in Aaron’s left ear.

Aaron’s first thought in that moment is, Robert.

But from somewhere behind him he hears a loud shout of, “Aaron!”

He pushes himself off Daz, who’s now not moving, and rolls onto his back on the cabin floor.

“You okay?” Robert asks, throwing himself onto his knees and checking for a gunshot. Aaron just looks up at him stunned relief, Robert’s voice sounding further away thanks to the ringing.

“Why’d you do that?!” Robert yells, clearly worried. “I had a plan!”

“How was I supposed to know?” Aaron eventually answers. “We never decided on a safeword.”

And now Robert’s laughing in relief, his hands still on Aaron. He smiles as he looks up and watches him, still clad in Aaron’s big coat. In the moonlight his floppy hair almost makes him seem like a handsome vampire — or some kind of fairytale prince. Or maybe just Robert Sugden.

Aaron’s heart gives a kick, and Robert seems to sense it, as he looks down and says, “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

The ringing is starting to die down, but Aaron still nods in agreement, only to be surprised by Robert leaning down to kiss him. His lips are once again, surprisingly gentle, and now it’s Aaron is the one who’s hungrier, running a hand up Robert’s cheek to hold it in place… and to convince himself that this isn’t him dreaming.

“Robert Sugden’s gay?!” Daz’s voice calls out in confusion.

Once again, both boys spring apart immediately. Upon seeing him up on his feet and with the gun back in his hands, Robert moves to cover Aaron’s prone form with some of his body.

“No,” Robert says, from where he’s crouched down next to Aaron, his tone as bold and irreverent as ever. “I’m actually bisexual.”

Daz’s eyes go wide, and then he seems to gasp and sort of seizes on the spot. Then he coughs, and blood comes out from his mouth. As he brings a hand up, he falls down to his feet, revealing Bernice standing up behind him, her hands bloody.

When Daz falls face first, there’s the hilt of a kitchen knife sticking out of his back. The look on Bernice’s face is a hybrid between shocked, relieved, and disbelief.

“How did you…” Robert asks the question for both of them. Aaron just finally managing to sit up with some help from Robert.

“Dad’s always making us help with his magic act,” Bernice explains. “Been getting out of ropes since I was five-years-old. Something Daz would have known if he’d ever listened.”

:::::

When the police let him go, he finds Robert waiting for him. He’s leaning on a non-ivy covered section of Home Farm’s exterior.

“Where’s Vic?” He asks, looking around for her.

“Sent her home with Ellis,” Robert replies, tucking his hands into Aaron’s jacket pocket. “Promised her I’d stay here and look after you.”

“Ah,” Aaron nods, happy for the update.

“Also told her I was bisexual,” Robert says.

This gets him a laugh, Aaron a bit shocked. “Hardly think tonight was the right time.”

“Yeah, but thought I’d give her something to look forward to,” Robert says with a smile.

Aaron’s brow furrows as he tries to parse the meaning of his words.

“I like you,” Robert tries again.

Aaron replies, “Yeah. I know. You told me.”

“When I thought I might have lost you…” Robert swallows. “I was really scared.”

Aaron nods quietly. He’d felt a spark of that same fear when he thought the bullet might have hit Robert.

“But that’s not as scary as not being with you,” Robert continues, and for a moment, Aaron feels like his hearing’s gone funny again.

“What you trying to say?” He asks, trying not to get his hopes up.

“I think I want to ask you on that date now…” Robert says, voice and face both bashful.

“What were you thinking?” Aaron asks with a smile, butterflies now housed where his nerves had been all night.

Robert pulls out a familiar looking bottle from where it was tucked under his arm within Aaron’s jacket, all that puffiness hiding the bulge of it.

“Fancy a game of truth or dare?”

[badnovels]

Did I miss the porn!Peeta fic posting? Because there are few things that would upset me more than if I missed one of your fics about a porn!Peeta. Just that phrase makes me tingly. #everlark #it'sbeensolong #butnorush #lyingtho

No, you haven’t missed anything! It’s below the cut. 

—

“He’s being a real bitch today,” Glimmer complained. She left a trail of her namesake across the floor as she stalked down the hallway. Her beautiful face, heavily made-up to appear flawless on screen, was mutinous. Her body was covered in a sheer peignoir that was dripping glitter as she walked, and her surgically enhanced breasts pointed rosy-tipped nipples at Katniss, which she studiously tried to ignore as she replied to an email on her phone.

“Sorry.” Katniss shrugged and finally met the other girl’s eyes. She slipped her phone in her back pocket and sighed. “You know I don’t control him. No one can.” 

To say that Peeta Mellark was an unstoppable force was an understatement. That anyone believed she had any real sway over him was laughable on a good day, but today wasn’t going to be a good day, because yesterday? Peeta caught her doing something she’d sworn never to do.

He hadn’t spoken to her since. 

And considering he didn’t go one hour without texting or calling or giving her some sort of order…well. Katniss wasn’t about to start making any demands on his schedule. He’d sent her one line this morning: studio @ nine. When she’d arrived, he was sequestered in a room that was already shooting a scene, and she’d been loitering in the hallway like a troll ever since. 

“Oh, whatever,” Glimmer said with a derisive frown. “You’re his precious…” Katniss stared at her. “…personal assistant,” she finished with a little more respect. “You could at least give us a heads up. I hate when he crashes in like this.”

“Look. He owns the production company,” Katniss said. She drank deeply from the tepid cup of coffee in her hand and grimaced. Peeta liked it sugar-sweet and full of cream, the opposite of her preference, but she needed fortification this morning if she were going to deal with a confrontation with temperamental talent. “He can show up whenever he wants.”

“Yeah, but I thought he was above all…this…now.” Glimmer gestured vaguely with her hands. “He can just sit back and relax while we make money for him on our backs.”

She choked during her next long sip. “You make him sound like a pimp.”

“If the shoe fits! It’s ridiculous how he storms in here-” The words cut off like a scratched record, and Katniss didn’t have to turn to know why.

“For your information,” Peeta said, taking the coffee cup from Katniss’ hand without acknowledging her. “A pimp wouldn’t pay you nearly as well as I do.”

“I didn’t mean…I just meant…” Glimmer stammered, backing away.

“Maybe if you put as much passion into your scenes as you do talking shit about me, we wouldn’t have to do so many reshoots,” he said. His trademark blue eyes were cold.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Go cry it out in the dressing room,” he said. “When you come back, I expect you to be professional and ready to nail your scenes. Literally.”

Glimmer fled. Katniss cleared her throat.

“That was unnecessary, don’t you think?” She tried as hard as she could to sound normal.

“Don’t even start,” Peeta warned, his voice low. He lifted the cup and glared at the lip gloss-stained rim. “You had to drink my fucking coffee?”

“I drink it every morning. Out of spite.”

“Why’d you do it?” he asked suddenly, throwing the half-full cup into the trash.

“Well.” She chewed on her lip and looked at the wall behind him. “I really didn’t know you were that serious about your coffee.”

“Don’t.”

Katniss exhaled and closed her eyes. She couldn’t believe he was actually going to bring it up. Why couldn’t they just quietly go about ignoring unsaid things? It worked for them. 

“Do you really have to do this right now?” she mumbled, turning away. She had a hard time meeting his eyes. “Let it go.”

“I had one request. One rule,” Peeta said, grasping her arm and pulling her back toward him. “Look at me.”

She reluctantly did as he asked, her face burning.

“I asked you not to watch my films,” he said slowly, “because of this. Right here.”

“This, what?”

He gave her a resentful look, his handsome face showing the true depth of his anger. He didn’t look like a polished, successful entrepreneur at that moment. He didn’t look like the funny, humble man that he was sometimes with her in private, a hard-won intimacy and friendship she’d developed as the person who looked after his every need for the past three years. Peeta now looked like the raw, brutish person who fought his way up from a dodgy, orphaned childhood, where he transitioned from a homeless teen to an edgy adult film star who specialized in controversial, rough kink.

“This. Where you can barely talk to me. Where you treat me like I’m something to be ashamed of,” he said, voice hard.

“Jesus!” she exclaimed. “Do you really think I’m that much of a prude? I work for the owner of a porn company.”

“You’re my assistant because you had no choice,” Peeta reminded her with a curl of his upper lip. “You’d be on the first flight outta LA if you’d had any other options. You took this job because you were broke and desperate, and Prim begged me for the favor.”

“That’s really low.” Disbelief flared, taking the place of embarassment. “Don’t bring my sister into this.”

“Why not?” he taunted her, his beautiful smile unkind and cruel.

“Because…” She was speechless with anger and confusion and hurt. This was all spiraling so out of control. They were breaking every one of their rules, even the unspoken ones.

“Just say it.” He stepped into her space, crowding her against the wall. “It’s because I fucked her? Years ago? Aw.” He was all faux-solicitousness. “It was just for the movies, sweetheart.”

Katniss’ vision blurred. “No.” The sudden outrage made her shake, and another emotion, something sharper and brighter and painful, made her eyes burn. “Because you dragged her into this shit.”

His laugh was a bitter, brittle thing. “Now we get to the truth. The shit.” He was so close now that their foreheads were practically touching. “The disgusting porn industry that Katniss Everdeen is so far above. Who cares that it pays your bills every month.”

She pushed him, but he didn’t move. Peeta was big, and hard, and though he didn’t have a reason to keep his body in the same peak physical condition he needed back when he starred in the movies that he now produced, he was just as buff as he’d ever been.

“You’re putting words into my mouth. She’s my baby sister. I wanted…I wanted something else. I wanted her to go to school. To be a doctor. And then she met you, and the next thing I know, she’s banging people on screen and changing her name to Rose Deen.”

“I didn’t make her do anything. She asked me for a foot in the door. And she’s successful. She’s happy,” Peeta gritted out. “Prim’s my friend. I’d never hurt her, not then. Not now.”

“It doesn’t hurt that you’re making a heavy profit off of her now, either,” she said meanly, regretting it instantly when a flash of hurt that swiftly turned to anger crossed his face. God, envy made her a bitch. “Wait-”

“It’s fine.” He gave her a blank look, the kind he sent to people who didn’t matter. “It’s time to watch the dailies. You’re coming with me.”

“But I don’t do that,” she protested feebly, flustered from both the request and what she had just said to him. “Finnick usually does that with you.”

“Okay. You can do it. Or you can quit. It’s up to you,” he said, staring at her. He wasn’t throwing a tantrum. He wasn’t being a dick. He was matter-of-fact, like he didn’t care whether she walked out of the studio doors or not.

“All right,” Katniss muttered, shoving her hands in her pockets. “Look. I’m sorry. I know you’ve been good to Prim. And that it was just business.”

“Don’t be sorry. Do your job.”

Peeta turned on his heel and stalked down the hall. She struggled to keep up with him, ignoring the sympathetic grimaces that actors and crew members gave her as she hustled past. Normally she was on the other end of this particularly unpleasant stick, the one to give reassuring looks to the people that Peeta blistered on a daily basis.

Finnick turned and stared at them when Katniss trailed behind Peeta into the editing room.

“Boy. You two look like you’ve been through some things,” he observed. His copper hair gleamed to perfection, and his skin shone with good health under the same lights that made Katniss look like a hag. She hated him, and not just because of his beauty. It was for the same reason she harbored a secret, horrifying little anger at her own sister: Finnick had once gotten to touch Peeta Mellark, even if it was on film.

Katniss glared at him while Peeta examined something on one of the screens. 

“Hmm.” Her nemesis took a bite from an apple and leaned back in his computer chair, addressing Katniss. “Exactly why am I being blessed with your presence, tiny?”

“Ask my demon overlord.” She plopped down on the couch that was against the wall and then frowned. “I’m not sitting on any DNA right now, am I?”

“Casting couches are in the room next door,” Finn said with a leer. “It’s where you did your interview, actually.”

“Ugh! Shut up.” For a moment she forgot she was in a fight with her boss. “Peeta! Tell him to stop lying.”

“Don’t torment my assistant,” he said curtly. Then he sat down next to her on the couch, his thigh touching hers. “That’s my personal privilege. Now roll on the footage from this morning.”

Finn cast a doubtful look her way that was mixed with disdain. She knew he mostly considered her an annoying little prude who got in the way of his friendship and personal time with Peeta, but to hell with him. She was here because she was asked and she wasn’t going to be intimidated by the likes of a former porn star named King Badcock.

“Yeah…um.” Katniss gestured at the bank of screens, refusing to be cowed by Finn. “Play it.”

And then something happened.

What ensued was the most uneasy two hours of her life. She’d seen her fair share of cock and vagina before, especially as Peeta’s employee, but this was raw and up-close and technical. And it was discussed in great detail, paused and analyzed, all while the heat from Peeta’s body was touching hers. She couldn’t explain it, couldn’t even put it into words, but hearing words like ‘cum shot’ and ‘squirting’ dropped from such a beautiful mouth in such a dry, deadpan voice was doing something to her that no amount of actual porn had ever done. So she sat there in quiet, squirming agony while Peeta and Finn talked around her.

Her leg was jiggling with nervous energy when Peeta landed a heavy hand on her knee.

“Like I was saying,” he said as if nothing had changed. “Zoom in right there, Finn. Yeah.”

Katniss stiffened and looked at his profile, but he just continued to speak to his partner. His fingers were there, splayed on her skin, and it was somehow the most vulgar sight she’d ever seen. He might as well have been nine inches deep in her pussy, she was so turned on– turned on and furious at herself for her reaction.

“Peeta.”

He and Finn both turned to look at her, their expressions odd. She could only imagine what they saw. She was hot, and if she wasn’t sweating she soon would be. Any second she was going to come right out of her skin. 

“Yes?” he asked.

“I need.” She stopped and started and rubbed her face, stuttering. “I need…I need to talk to you.”

He stared at her. Saw something in her countenance. Then he looked at Finn. “Get out.”

“You serious?” Finnick said, visibly annoyed. “You called me into the studio early, talking shit about being on a time constraint. And now-’

“Get. Out.”

He got out.

“Well?” Peeta finally asked in the long moment that followed Finnick’s departure.

“I…” She tripped over her tongue.

Silence. Then, “You look like you want be fucked.” This was delivered coolly, deadpan, but he couldn’t quite hide the undercurrent of something like astonishment.

“You’re so arrogant,” she said, her hand shaking. Katniss stood, but his strong hands found her hips, and he pulled her down to sit on his lap. She wasn’t even surprised. It was a Wednesday afternoon and she was sitting on Peeta Mellark’s denim-covered erection, and it felt as natural as breathing.

“Do you?” he asked into her ear. “Just say the word. Say anything, Kat.” She held back a moan. “I’ll be your dirty little secret. Your nasty, trashy porn star.” He bit the shell of her ear and Katniss squeaked. Squeaked. “I’ll be whatever you want, just tell me what you want.”

“I want you,” she whispered. And she really did. Despite the history with her sister, the fact that she worked for him, that they could barely go a day without bickering…she wanted Peeta Mellark with an intensity that scared her. 

She thought he’d explode into action at her words. If it had been one his movies, he’d have torn her dress straight down the back. He’d rip her underwear with his bare hands and pound into her, then and there.

Instead, it was a painfully slow seduction that followed. He lifted her up, turned her to face him, and looked at her.

“You’re so damn pretty,” he said almost angrily. He fingers were at contrast to his voice, gentling gliding over the rise of her cheekbones. “I don’t understand…I don’t know why it feels like this. I’ve seen so many beautiful women. Nicer women.”

“Charmer.”

“I don’t want beautiful. Or nice, I guess,” he said. “I want you. With your sour patch tongue and mean eyes and sweet lips…god, your fucking lips.”

Peeta kissed her. His tongue swept her mouth, and she allowed it, giving back the energy he was infusing into her. His hands ran down her arms as if to give her warmth, but then they were working on the buttons of her shirt-dress, both nimble and leisurely at the same time. Her bra came off and then his clever mouth was pressing kissing down her jaw, nipping the sensitive space between neck and shoulder, and then pulling gently at her sensitive nipple, worrying it with his straight white teeth.

When he pulled his head away she almost cried.

“Come back,” she said, and he laughed in disbelief before scrubbing at his face.

“Can’t believe I’m saying this. But. I don’t wanna do you here,” he said. With his blond waves and flushed face, he suddenly looked more like a fallen angel rather a hardened businessman.“That seems…I don’t want to.”

“Where, then?” Katniss panted, staring up at him with frustration and bewilderment.

Peeta didn’t speak for a long moment. Instead, he helped her back into her bra, kissing her every time she started to protest.

“Let me take you on a date.” His expression was a mix of grumpy, horny defiance and a dash of what she’d swear was vulnerability. “A good one. We can fuck all night long after that.”

“Why?”

He closed his eyes as if praying for inner peace. “Because I like you. I like you and I want to do it right. For once. Prove to you I’m not the man you think I am. That I can be a better man.”

“I don’t think you’re a bad man, Peeta.” She touched his cheek. “I thought…I don’t know. I’m not anything like what someone like you’d be interested in.”

“You kidding?” He gestured toward his still-raging erection. Then he stopped and shook his head. “Let me show you…just…” He held up his finger and pulled out his phone, the one she spent an hour setting up before painstakingly explaining to him how to use it for two more. He tapped on it for a moment and then thrust it at her. The background photo was a picture of Katniss, tipsy and beaming a rare smile after drinking too many margaritas at a wrap party a few months back.

Katniss blinked in pure surprise, completely at a loss. “But you’re my boss” was all she could think to say.

He gave her the squint-eyed stare she had grown to know so well. “You’re worrying about that now? You were dry humping me not ten minutes ago.”

She huffed, purely for show. “Do you wanna date me or not, asshole?”

Peeta laughed. “There’s my girl.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #175

“imagine living like a king someday, a single night without a ghost in the walls.”

Have you ever had a teacher hit on you? Not to my recollection. Have you ever seen your ex’s new partner? If so, what do you think of them? I don't know or care if he currently has one. Do you think you can last in a relationship for 6 months? Done it twice now, it's not difficult if you're picky and serious with who you date. Does anybody know about your sex life other than your partners? Well my mom was somewhat aware of things that were happening. What was the last piece of candy you ate? Good question. I got my tongue re-pierced because of a bar length issue with swelling, and now this one is just shy of long enough to disable me from biting down entirely (they're snake eyes, so across the tip). I'm only just getting back into eating soft things very slowly unless I want pain, so candy's a no. I have to wait no less than three weeks to get a correctly-sized bar, and it's only been just over one aaaahhh. Have you ever been dared to do something you totally regretted? No. Is your room painted or wallpapered? Painted. What is the best kind of pizza in your opinion? I'm an American I stan them meat lovers. Is there something that someone has done to you that you cannot forgive? No. Well actually idk, I still don't know for *sure* if I forgive him. Like I'm completely over it and it no longer affects me, but I could never ever ever ever look at him even remotely the same or even consider trusting him. I don't think that's supposed to happen when you forgive someone. Have you ever broken a plate/bowl? Accidentally by dropping. What is your favorite restaurant? Olive Garden. Has anyone ever drunk called/texted you? I don't think so. Do you know anyone who has a homosexual parent? No. What type of music could this world live without? Pure screamo (no, not as a carpet term for metal). Are any of your pets “overweight”? No. Who’s the last person you cried over? Does myself count? Did the house you grew up in have a fence? Yeah, but not all around. What’s your YouTube channel name? 0zzkat. Who of your FB friends has the cutest toddler(s)? Uhhhh idk. Anastasia's baby girl is pretty cute, I guess. Did you decorate pumpkins this year? No. :/ They were totally gone the day we were gonna get one (the day before Halloween so no, we weren't that surprised lmao). What’s the craziest color you’d dye your hair? More like what color WOULDN'T I dye it? What’s the coolest hobby one of your friends has? Uhhh. Idk. Name a video game you can play over and over again? Shadow of the Colossus. I've beaten it around 30 times. Would be more if I didn't lose the disc, buuut it's actually coming in the mail now! What is something that will make you laugh instantly? Don't show me that fucking Linkin Park "crawling in my crawl" worm video. Name a movie you wouldn’t watch solely based on its name? None come to mind. What’s your dearest souvenir? *shrugs* What was the last strong scent you smelled? Probably coffee bc of Mom. Have you ever been in an unconventional relationship (long distance, polyamorous, same gender, age gap, etc)? If so, what challenges did this relationship present, and were they worth overcoming? Long instance + same-sex simultaneously. Distance is fucking hard when you really want each other's company, especially for emotional support. Being same-sex makes me nervous due to potential violent homophobics, especiiiiaaaally living where I do. I do it regardless, but even just holding hands leaves me worrying some asshole is going to cause a problem. I know my sister's husband isn't at all fond of it either and I'm 99% sure he's why Sara's never met the kids. But anyway, all those things are absolutely worth it. Would you ever consider something like a poly relationship, assuming everyone involved was alright with it? What are some things you think you would or wouldn’t like about it? Absolutely not, because I strictly believe in the exclusiveness of love. What is the most unhealthy relationship (whether friendship or romantic) you’ve ever had? What made it so unhealthy? Do you still talk to each other? Colleen, probably. We are just about the antitheses of each other, yet we were "best friends." We disagreed too frequently, she was drama-ravenous, we kept leaving and coming back, etc. No, we don't talk now, and I refuse to ever do so again as friends. Have you ever been abusive in any way? Were you able to change or make amends, or, in general, what do you think people should do to make amends in that situation? No. I absolutely do not believe in "making amends" with your abuser. Keep them the fuck out of your life. Have you ever forgiven someone for being abusive or allowed someone toxic back into your life? Did this person change for the better or not? Toxic... you mean Colleen? Did it too many times, and no, she didn't. Do you feel like your age matches your emotional development? If not, what age level or maturity level do you feel best represents where you’re at? Part of me says no, another says yes. I guess it depends on the subject. What is one thing about your personality that embarrasses you, but you can’t seem to change it no matter how hard you try? Have other people called you out on this embarrassing thing? Being socially awkward as all hell, and yes. When was the last time you did something “meant” for children? Do you think it’s okay for adults to do these things (ie. watch cartoons, have stuffed animals, dress in cute clothing, etc), or do you think there’s an age beyond which it becomes unacceptable - and if so, why? I was playing Spyro just earlier today lmao. In almost all cases, no. I do believe that something like a full-grown adult playing pretend with dolls or something may be questionable, but even then there's not a real reason I can give you. What was the last thing to “trigger” you (as in, in a true mental health sense, I’m being serious here) and how did you cope with it? What kinds of things do you tend to find triggering? What do you do either avoid or face your triggers? Something PTSD-related, but I can't remember exactly what it was, I guess because I got past it pretty quickly. There are certain songs I should avoid, I canNOT look at the medicine I ODed on, I don't like seeing or being near large knives at all... If you’re diagnosed with anything, do you feel that it accurately represents what you’re experiencing? All of them, yeah. What is a complaint you have about the mental health industry or about the type of treatment you’ve received from a mental health service? Have you ever had any particularly bad therapy experiences? I feel that too many people working in the field care far more about the pay than the people. I can't guarantee a professional truly cared about what I was dealing with until Holly Hill. I've had one particularly horrible psychiatrist that threw diagnoses and pills around like they were nothing (the most ridiculous being ADHD, which I in no way exhibited), and a long-time therapist I had was pretty bad, something I realized only after I started with my current one. She was strict about that "you've got an hour, you're staying an hour, you're leaving no later" shit, and we always ran out of things to talk about so I'd just be sitting there super uncomfortably and numerous times start crying because I felt so awkward, and she'd just take it as a sign that I wasn't telling her something. She drove "and how does that make you feel" and "what're you thinking of" into the goddamn ground. Yeesh, having been a mental health patient for so long, I could really write a novel here. When was the last time you realized you might be the source of a problem and NOT someone else? Hm, idk. I'm so uninvolved with others that that's a hard question to answer. What are some minor physical discomforts that really bug you (eyelash in your eye, a wedgie, rumpled socks, etc)? HAVING THE BOTTOMS OF YOUR PANTS GET WET. I hate chapped lips, too. Do you prefer vertical or horizontal stripes? Horizontal. Have you ever ridden a motorcycle? No. Are you ticklish? YEAH. Have you ever tried to make your own alcohol? No. If you were to join one of the armed forces, which would it be? I wouldn’t. Have you ever been in a submarine? No. Have you ever been in a hot tub or sauna? Only hot tubs. Do you believe there used to be dragons? No. What was your first alcoholic drink? A Mike's hard lemonade. Where did you go on your first ride on an airplane? Idk, I was a baby. What was your first detention for? Too many tardies. Did you ever have a treehouse as a kid? No. Have you ever been on radio? No. How long has your longest ever phone call been? A few hours. What is a meal you eat extremely often? Or do your meals & food choices vary a lot? Ummm I guess some kind of chicken is common? When was the last time you felt unable or unwilling to speak your mind to someone? Idk. What was the last thing you changed your mind about? Uhhhh how am I blanking, I change my mind on things every five minutes. Who was the last friend you saw, and what did you do together? Sara's both my girlfriend but also the only "friend" I ever hang with now even tho we live several states apart lmao. I was there two weeks, so we did an array of stuff. Who tends to show up in your dreams? Do you ever wonder if you appear in anyone else’s dreams? Hell, I barely ever remember my dreams. Jason still shows up maybe ehhhh around or maybe less than once a month, and I have no clue why other than maybe there's some PTSD effects I don't actually detect or something? It's not like I think about him much, so I really don't see why he shows up, but the theme is constant: awkwardness seeing each other again, and he sometimes tries to get back with me (thank FUCKING GOD even in my dreams, I don't). Sara's in some dreams that I remember. Mom, maybe. What is something you wish you could say to someone who is no longer in your life, or something you wish they could know? Nothing. What is something you do to feel better when you’re scared? I'll usually turn to YouTube for a distraction. Who do you feel you can count on the most in life? Is there anyone you wish you could count on more? Mom. What is the strangest book you have ever read? How did you find out about it? Probably Bite Me by idr-who. I actually don't remember. What was the last thing you broke? How about fixed? Another sensor came off the keyboard. :') I dunno about fixed. Is there a sign or symbol that means a lot to you for whatever reason (eg. seeing certain animals or birds, 11:11 or other repeating numbers, syncs, butterflies, hearts in nature, etc)? Butterflies and semicolons. Hence my semicolon butterfly tattoo. Do you have any personal ghost stories or paranormal experiences? Yeah. What do you get complimented on the most? My hair. What is something unusual that you find attractive? why does?????? everyone hate fedoras tbh?????????? What time do you tend to eat your first meal of the day? And your last? BOY this varies so much like fuck. Sometimes I don't eat breakfast at all, sometimes I do right when I get outta bed. Dinner can be at like almost 10:00 with Mom's schedule, or I may have it like five hours earlier. What was the subject of the last video you watched? I'm getting into a horror LPer and I'm binging her Silent Hill playthroughs. How would you describe your overall aesthetic? I like pink but bloody guts and brains are cool 2. What is the most challenging meal you have ever cooked? N/A What was your favorite thing to do as a little kid? Play video/computer games. Have you ever been close to drowning? No. Do you watch any Japanese anime? Not currently, but I've kinda had the urge to pick an interesting one up? Do you have someone who is protective of you (father, brother, etc.)? Mom and Sara above anyone else. Where was the last place you went, that you hadn’t been to before? Uhhhhh good question. I don't exactly go to new places often. Do you have any bad habits you aren’t working on changing? If so, do you ever think you’ll try to break them? I don't believe so off the top of my head? Then again I think everyone has little bad habits they don't try to improve upon, but I can't think of anything serious. When was the last time someone surprised you with their reaction or behaviors? I'm sure something with Mom, but idk what. Are you good at committing to things like Nanowrimo or Inktober? Nope. What is your preferred method of expressing yourself? Writing. Or drawing if I'm in the mood. Have you ever reached out to a crisis center for mental health support? If so, how was the experience? I tried to reach the suicide hotline via their online one-on-one chatroom because I was too afraid to actually call, but I ended up waiting I think 45 minutes before the OD happened. When was the last time you did something you were afraid to do, and how was the outcome? I drove at night and ordered food at a drive-thru myself. It went well. What is one positive thing you believe about yourself? I have a strong sense of right and wrong. What is something you have been through that has made you stronger? Depression as a whole. Other than money, what is something you wish you had more of in your life? Social life, success, and motivation to name a few. Is there anything that you tend to ignore for the sake of your sanity? Sure. Mental health stuff flares up sometimes if I think about some things too deeply. What was the last thing you argued or debated about? Did you eventually agree, or did you have to agree to disagree? Getting rid of Bentley, and neither, really. Mom knows we shouldn't have him for a world of reasons, yet she refuses to try to find a far more suitable home for him or at least talk to Nicole about it (he's her dog, but she doesn't live here), who's never even paid him almost any attention. I could rant about this for hours. What is something you wish was different about your family? THAT WE WERE CLOSER. What is your main struggle or focus in life right now? Getting out of the house/becoming more of a functioning adult. Are you more dramatic or stoic? I'm neither extreme, really, but I'd say I'm much further from stoic. Are you on medication for anything? If so, do you feel like it helps? Have you ever been afraid to take medication or had a particularly bad experience with it? A lot, but the only ones I feel don't work are the ones for my tremors and knees. I was on one med for a while that I was scared to take because it made me vomit (safe to say I wasn't on it long), and even my life-saver med made me sick at first, but I took prescription nausea pills to ride that out as my body adjusted. Do you prefer having long or short nails? Short, but not too short. When was the last time you had an argument with one of your parents? Idr. Do you tend to eat the same few things all the time or do you vary your intake? Would you consider yourself to be a picky eater? Are there any commonly enjoyed foods that you don’t like? I'm picky and definitely have a limited palate. Some foods I can think of for the last question include fried chicken, BBQ, watermelon, tacos, all cheeses but American, aaaand I'm blanking again in an area I should have a book about. Do you have good body image? Do you feel more confident about your body or your personality? What is one thing about yourself about which you do feel particularly confident? Ha, as if, so personality. I like how open-minded I am. How likely are you to compliment other people? How do you react or respond when you receive a compliment? What are your favorite types to receive? It depends on the person, the atmosphere, and my anxiety level. I sometimes fear complimenting people because I don't want someone to be like "um why is she talking to me?"/"is she flirting with me?"/"why did she notice that?", etc. I become so giddy (at the very least internally) when people compliment me because of how my self-esteem is, and I really appreciate them. The compliments that mean most to me are regarding my photography. With how badly I want to be a successful photographer, people seeming to genuinely like what I do has actually made me smile like an idiot and giggle publicly. It just means a lot to me. Describe the last thing you reblogged? How many posts do you tend to reblog during a day? A clip of Mark having a fit over a dog in RDR2. How much I reblog varies greatly; depends on how much I get on Tumblr that day, what I feel like sharing at that moment, what I queue... Have you ever lost your cool at work or somewhere else important? What happened as a result? No. Do you listen to your friends’ advice when they give it to you? Depends. If it's Sara, I usually do. What’s the last kind of soup you ate? Vegetable. Have you ever thought about getting your nose pierced? It is pierced. The most memorable time that you skipped school, what did you do? I don't recall. Did you ever have a favorite teacher in high school? What made them your favorite? Coach Collie. He was very friendly, wise, his sense of humor was great, he cared deeply for his students, was super chill, shared life advice all the time, etc. etc. Can you think of a time when you were really obviously judged by your appearance? What happened? Not that I recall. What’s something your mother told you growing up that you actually listened to? Mind your manners. What are three emotions you experience regularly? Stress, content, but also discontent. What is your favorite Halloween candy? Reese's. Is there anyone who refuses to communicate with you? *shrugs* What was the last lengthy packet you filled out? Something for vocational rehab. Is there something you still can’t do even though you’re an adult or might be expected to do this thing? I don't have a job or drive. When was the last time you congratulated someone? Were you happy for them, indifferent, jealous? When I found out one of my closest high school friends is pregnant. I was obviously happy for her. What would you say is your STRONGEST emotion? Maybe not the most frequent, but the most intense? And what emotion do you feel most weakly, even if you might feel it more often? Anger; envy (but it's not often). Have you ever gone somewhere in your pajamas? What makes this acceptable or unacceptable to you? Plenty times, but it depends on my level of shits given and the location. Honestly wish pjs were more acceptable in public places cuz like why not, you've got clothes on, just don't go around where everyone can totally see your dick, ass, or tits. Other than the usual things like IDs, etc, what do you always carry with you when you go out? My phone. What type of photography do you enjoy looking at? Do you take any photos yourself, and if so, what types of things do you prefer to photograph? LOTS!!!! I particularly love fantasy-styled portraiture or macabre work, and omg give me soft lighting. I'm a sucker for emotive or conceptual portraits and the like. I like to photograph an array of things, but my faves are nature and animals. Have you ever gone out for the Black Friday shopping rush? Did you enjoy it, or not so much? Or, what’s the busiest shopping day you’ve ever experienced? Nope. Busiest shopping day I indirectly experienced was when I worked at GameStop during the holiday season... nope. It's a small store and it was flooded. I hated it. Idk about one where I/my family was the shopper. Do you enjoy reading diaries or stories you wrote from when you were younger, or does it embarrass you? If you’ve kept them, was there a particular reason for hanging on to them so long? No. No. No. NO. I can't stomach going any further back than '15 at the RP forum because fucking cringe. All old stuff like physical journals and such, they're long gone because I never want to see them again lmao. What would you say was your first true hobby? What about your most recently developed one? Hmmm, probably video games were the first things I was *really* deep into. Recently developed... good question. Is there one thing that throws off your mood more than others, whether it be lack of sleep, lack of food, heat/cold, etc? I'M FUCKING /CRANKY/ IF I'M HOT. Serious lack of sleep makes me moodier. What is one common area of life in which you feel you have little to no experience (college, children, marriage, etc)? Work and independence. What kinds of things are you likely to complain about? HEAT. If it's hot to me, you're gonna know. I'll complain if my stomach especially hurts, sometimes with other pain. Do you like to put any extra effort into your food in terms of presentation, or do you prefer to just put it on a plate and eat it as it is, no frills? I don't cook, so. But I'd definitely be the latter. When was the last time you were mean or rude to someone else? How about the last time someone acted that way toward you? I hung up on this insurance agency or whatever they are that call me every other goddamn day. I dunno about the second question. What kinds of things are most likely to make you lose your temper? Have you ever done something regrettable or embarrassing while angry? I fucking dare you to ridicule the mentally ill in front of me. Goddamn dare you. For the second part, not to my recollection. Do you have a large dog? No, both our dogs are medium-sized. If not, are you afraid of them? Not at all. Do your parents know that/if you smoke? I don't. What is the reason you last received money? Mom borrowed some from me so she was paying me back. Is anyone in your family sick? Not to my knowledge. Are you very upfront about things or do you "beat around the bush"? The latter, typically. Do you ever write poetry just to get your feelings out? Not really anymore. Middle and high school? I was all about it. I wrote only one poem this year. How many bones have you broken? None. Whose house did you visit last? My sister Ashley's. Have you ever bought a fragrance by a celeb because you liked who it was? No. Do you have a gazebo at your house? No. What’s your favorite brand of bottled water? Essentia.