#sir please iron your sweater

[not-from-your-town]

Hit Parader. (May 2000). Kurt Cobain Centerfold. pp. 50-51

[sixhours]

our endless numbered days

A continuation of the events in who knows where the time goes and reprise from the i know you by heart universe. This will make more sense if you've read those, but you do you.

This fic has everything! A dash of angst (forgive me, I can't write Joel without at least a little angst), nosy Tommy, a Joel/Tess interlude, family time with the kids, a slightly drunk Ellie, and two middle-aged dudes making out. What's not to love?

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut. Words: 12k Tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Prospect, Joel Miller x Ezra, Joel & Ellie, Ezra & Cee, Joel x Tess, Tess Servopoulos, Tommy Miller, idiots in love, Joel is bad at feelings, Ellie is a little shit (affectionate), Cee is also a little shit (affectionate), fluff!, soft fluff!, a dash of angst because I can't help myself, SMUT, gay sex, bisexual!Joel, period-typical homophobia, light angst, happy ending, romance, soft queer dads being so soft, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Notes: For @jessthebaker. <3 Merry Christmas from your AWLJM Secret Santa! You once said you’d read anything with these two, and you asked for Miller-family-in-Jackson shenanigans, so I hope this hits the right notes. Thank you for being such an avid supporter of this fandom and this series. <3

The title comes from the album of the same name by Iron & Wine, and specifically the song Passing Afternoon which gives me cozy Jackson vibes.

Joel wakes early, curled up against Ezra’s naked back. The other man’s ability to hog the damn bed is impressive–his arm hanging off the side, one long leg stretching to the opposite corner–but the chill in their room has Joel grateful for his closeness. They’d moved from the couch when it became obvious they were too fucking old to manage a night on the furniture, and his knees are still complaining, but there’s a giddy seed of happiness in his chest.

Outside, the fresh snow has gathered in drifts, wind-blown. They’ll need to shovel out at some point, and they’ll probably be called up to clear the town walkways later, but for now, Jackson sleeps under a pristine white blanket.

It’s a good day for pancakes.

Half an hour later, he’s donned his thermals under a pair of flannel-lined jeans and a wool sweater, built up the fire in the woodstove, and picked up their clothes off the living room floor. He’s working on coffee and the pancake batter when there’s a frantic knock at the front door.

Joel goes to open it, finds Ellie shivering on the porch in her pajamas.

“You have a key,” he grouches, ushering her inside. “The hell’s your coat, anyway?”

“Didn’t think I’d need either, you never lock it,” she says, stamping her feet to shake off the snow. She glances into the living room, squints at something. “Dude…I’m not gonna ask why there’s a pair of boxers under the coffee table.”

Oops.

“Good,” Joel says, keeping his back turned so she won’t see him blush. “Then I won’t ask why I found your damn bra in the couch cushions last week.”

“If you had to wear one of those torture devices every day, you’d take it off the first chance you got, too,” she shoots back, then looks over his shoulder at the kitchen. “Ooh, pancakes? Did I miss a birthday or something?”

“Don’t need to have a birthday to have pancakes.”

“Yeah, but usually they’re just for special occasions or Sundays or whatever.”

“Just seemed like a good day for it. Snow day n’ all.”

She peers at him suspiciously. “Huh.”

“What?”

“You’re just unusually chipper for someone who’s gonna have to spend the day shoveling this shit.”

Joel snorts. “Don’t remind me. D’you want pancakes or what?”

“Uh, duh .”

“Then make yourself useful an’ set the table. Think we still have some strawberry preserves left over from the summer in there, too.”

“Yes, sir!” she mock-salutes, heading for the fridge.

The first pancakes are ready to be flipped when he reaches across the counter to grab a spatula. He crosses Ellie’s line of vision as she’s putting butter on a small plate and suddenly she’s grabbing at his hand.

“The heck are you–oh.”

She’s staring, bug-eyed, at the simple gold band on his finger.

“What the–where’d this come from?”

She really does notice everything.

“Uh–yeah, guess we, uh…need to talk about that.”

She blinks up at him incredulously. “Is this what I think it is?”

Joel rubs at the back of his neck. “Well…we kinda–”

“Are you two–did you get engaged?”

“We mighta skipped that part…”

“You got married ?” she half shrieks.

“Uh–”

“And you didn’t tell me ?”

“I–ah shit!” Joel hisses.

Smoke wafts from the pan. He grabs the spatula but the first batch is a lost cause.

“I think what your surrogate father figure is trying to say is, it was a spur-of-the-moment lark, gem. Nothing planned, and certainly nothing we intended to keep from you.”

Ezra has appeared at the kitchen door, leaning against the frame in his sweatpants and a flannel that looks suspiciously like Joel’s. Between Ellie and Ezra, Joel’s wardrobe is slowly being co-opted into a family affair.

Fuckin’ communism.

“What he said,” Joel sighs, flipping the burnt pancakes into the trash and fiddling with the heat before adding fresh batter to the pan.

“Seriously?” she gapes, looking back and forth between them, settling on Ezra. “Oh my god, do I have to call you ‘dad’ now?”

“You don’t even call me dad,” Joel grumbles.

“Dude, shut up, I’m talking to my evil stepmother.”

“Been watchin’ too many Disney movies. Mornin’, by the way,” he say, smiling wryly at Ezra. “She knows, I guess.”

“Dude! Wait, who asked who? Did you get down on one knee?”

“He asked me, but the sentiment was mutual,” Ezra says. “And…no. Not exactly.”

Joel waits for the inevitable joke about his knees cracking, but Ellie is too entranced by this new development to make one. Small favors.

Soon he doles out the pancakes onto three plates and brings them to the table, dropping a kiss at Ezra’s temple before taking his usual seat.

“Huh. Still gross,” Ellie says mildly, prompting a revenge forehead kiss for her, too. She wrinkles her nose and pretends to push him away, but she’s grinning, reaching for the syrup. Like another child Joel adored, she pours the stuff over her pancakes until they’re practically swimming.

“Better not be wastin’ that syrup, kid.”

“You know I won’t,” she huffs, cutting into the stack and taking a giant bite before he can remind her to go easy. Practically eighteen and she’s still a tiny thing who eats like she’s starving. It’s a wonder she hasn’t choked to death.

“Sh’iz so fuckin’ weird,” she says, words muffled by her chewing. “Don’t you have to, like, register with the council or something? Say some vows? What about the cake?”

“Uh, no,” Joel says. “Don’t have to do any a’that.”

“Why the hell would you get married if you don’t even get to have a fucking cake?” she says.

“There used to be certain legal benefits,” Ezra muses. “In this day and age, it’s more a…show of commitment.”

“Right,” Joel mumbles. “Don’t need to be a big deal.”

“Hmm. I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Ezra offers thoughtfully. “It’s a very big deal. Especially when you consider the history, the matrimonial bond for same-sex couples back in the day was a pretty sad state of affairs…and Jackson is the exception to the rule. I don’t recall FEDRA giving out marriage licenses to queer folk.”

“I don’t–I just meant…we don’t need to make a show of anythin’.”

“And what if I wanted a bit of fanfare, hm?” Ezra asks nonchalantly, gesturing with his fork. “The wedding of every little boy’s dreams? Flowers, champagne, a sparkly white dress–”

Ellie giggles. “Dude.”

“I could pull it off,” Ezra smirks.

Joel barely hears any of this. He fumbles for his coffee and tries to clear his throat.

“I–you–you do? I mean, do you?”

Had he fucked this up already? He’d been enchanted, dopey with lovestruck affection and not thinking entirely with his brain when he’d presented the rings. Truly, he hadn’t been thinking much at all, warmed by the fire and the thought of his future husband’s hand in his and then, well, everything had turned very–

“Awwwww-kard,” Ellie says through a mouthful of pancakes, and Joel shoots her a look.

“Kid–”

But Ezra is grinning, watching Joel get more and more flustered. “I’m pullin’ your leg, songbird. No fuss necessary on my account.”

Joel returns to his food, still nursing a seed of discontent when his thoughts are interrupted by slurping, Ellie having tipped up her plate, licking it clean.

“What!?” she says off his look, wiping the back of her mouth with her sleeve. “Told you I wouldn’t waste it.”

“Raised in a goddamn barn,” Joel mutters, looking to Ezra for sympathy, only to find him doing the same thing.

“Waste not, want not,” Ezra chirps, and Joel doesn’t miss the wink he gives Ellie across the table.

They’re already ganging up on him. Christ .

Later, after Ellie has bounced out the door with a promise to help shovel, they’re dressing to go out and brave the snow, pulling on thick coats and gloves.

“Hey,” Joel tries. “I, uh…about the whole, uh, wedding…thing. If you wanted…somethin’ more...I guess I prob’ly shoulda asked, but I wasn’t, uh…”

He rubs at the back of his neck, feeling just as awkward and fumbling as he had the day they first met. Two years together and the man can still turn him into a bumbling idiot. He’s fuckin’ hopeless.

Ezra’s expression softens. “I genuinely had no expectations…ceremonial or otherwise.”

“You sure? ‘Cause we can…if you–”

Ezra shakes his head firmly. “I’m certain. This,” he murmurs, reassuring him with a soft kiss. “This is more than enough.”

Joel is clearing the walkways in front of the Bison just before lunch when Anders walks by and claps him on the shoulder in passing.

“Congrats, man!”

It takes him several minutes to puzzle out what the hell he’s being congratulated for.

By the end of that day, enough of their neighbors have extended well-wishes that Joel knows Ellie must have talked to someone. Probably Dina, the unofficial Jackson town crier. When there was local news to share–and a couple making it official in their tiny community was exactly the kind of gossip that spread–Ellie and Dina were more efficient than a local news broadcast.

Tommy’s shit-eating grin the next morning at the stables is enough to confirm his suspicions.

“Heard congratulations are in order, big brother.”

“Ellie told you, huh?”

“Yup. But why the hell am I hearin’ about it from your kid and not you?”

Joel shrugs, smiles to himself. “Seem to remember you getting hitched without tellin’ me. Among other things.”

“You ever gonna consider letting me live that down?” Tommy asks cheerfully.

“Don’t reckon so.”

“Well, I’ll be the bigger man and forgive you,” Tommy says. “And I’ll do you one better and warn you; the girls are fixin’ to throw you two a surprise party.”

Joel groans, starts to open his mouth to protest, but Tommy holds up a hand.

“Look, you didn’t hear it from me. But don’t bother tryin’ to fight ‘em on this; Ellie’s invested and Maria’s always lookin’ for an excuse to lighten things up around here. I made ‘em promise to keep it small, but…”

He shrugs as if to say What can you do?

Joel huffs, tightens the strap on the saddle and tugs on the reins to lead Old Beardy out. Tommy follows with Justified, and soon they’re mounted up and riding through the gates.

“Gonna be a helluva week,” Tommy mutters. “Got half the crew off with that flu thing goin’ around. Think I’m on the damn schedule every day ‘til March.”

Joel grunts. “Yeah, me too.”

“Gonna make for a short honeymoon, huh?”

“Jesus Christ,” Joel mutters, urging his horse to pick up the pace amidst Tommy’s delighted laughter.

It’s an uneventful if slow ride, the trail soft and not yet packed down after the storm. They take out a couple of runners from a distance–can barely be called runners, though, forced to shuffle and stumble through drifts, making them easy targets. Tommy’s in a chatty mood, and Joel is content to let him hold up the brunt of the conversation, business as usual. They’re taking lunch after clearing the outpost just outside Wilson when Tommy brings it up again, the serious note in his voice immediately setting Joel on edge.

“Y’know I’m happy for you, right?”

“Uhhh…yeah,” Joel says, opening the logbook.

“Think Sarah woulda got along real nice with y’all.”

The thought doesn’t stir the same hurt it used to, doesn’t bring him to his knees with grief, but his brother’s doing that thing he does with his hands when he wants to say something and doesn’t know how. He frowns.

“Sure…”

“I don’t–uh…I mean, I knew you weren’t…y’know. Glad it’s…glad Ezra’s good. Good for you. Even if he’s not, uh…not who I woulda…I just–”

Joel fixes him with a blank stare. “Spit it out, Tommy.”

His brother rubs at the back of his neck. Joel tenses, waiting for some just-shy-of-homophobic remark, the kind he’s grown all too familiar with over the last couple years. 

You don’t look like the type.

Joel Miller? I never would’ve thought.

Although he’d really hoped never to hear it from Tommy, who, until now, had kept silent about his brother’s inclinations. As he damn well should.

But he remembers all too well where they grew up, and old habits are hard to break.

Tommy sighs. “Haven’t seen you this happy since…since Tess, is all.”

Hearing the name jars him, his pen stuttering over the page, marring his signoff. He swallows the sudden lump in his throat, feels the weight of the new ring on his finger acutely. Just like his brother, to poke at a sore spot he didn’t even know he had.

“Yeah,” Joel mutters, slapping the book shut. “Thanks.”

“Sometimes I wonder what she’d make of all this,” Tommy says, chuckling, running a hand through his curls. “Communism. Fuck, she’d think we lost our damn minds.”

It occurs to him, probably two years too late, that Tess was just as much Tommy’s friend as Joel’s. Even if they weren’t exactly on speaking terms by the time Tommy ran off with the Fireflies, the three of them had once been close enough to be called family.

“You ever think about her?” Tommy asks when they’re mounted up and headed back toward town. There’s an edge to his voice that tells Joel he knows he’s treading dangerous ground.

“Not much,” Joel says tightly. Truth be told, it was closer to not at all until today, but like hell he’s going to tell his brother that.

You don't bring up Tess, ever .

Seems like he did a damn good job of taking his own advice, for once.

“Huh,” he says, too lightly. “Well…I think she’d be happy for you, too, big brother.”

Joel grunts and says nothing, stares straight down the path in hopes of ending this conversation right fuckin’ now. It works, and Tommy’s usual chatter dies down to the occasional comment on their surroundings.

But the damage is done and a slow-festering guilt has already begun blooming behind Joel’s ribs at the mention of her name.

It’s a long, cold ride back to Jackson.

Tommy’s not wrong about the patrol schedule. For the next ten days, they’re on duty from sunup to sundown. Thankfully wintertime means they’re mostly uneventful rides, but he puts in a lot of miles, the kind of days that leave his back achy and his ass and hips sore. Most nights he comes home bone-tired, with just enough energy to eat something and shower before falling into bed.

For his part, Ezra waits up for him to make sure he has a hot meal, teases about becoming a “proper little ménagère, ” and threatens to find a frilly apron at the trading post to complete the look. Meanwhile, Joel just tries not to fall asleep on the couch…and fails most of the time.

All the while, riding the trails with his patrol partners, he has too much time to think.

And for the first time in years, he’s thinking of Tess.

Fifteen years as partners. Two months traveling together before they’d fallen into bed and swore to keep each other’s secrets. It was more than he gave anyone back then, but it had never really been enough.

She asked once. Just once.

And he’d turned away. Got shitfaced. They never talked about it again, but she still came home to their bed every night.

…not to feel the way I felt.

And it wasn’t like she’d asked for much. Certainly nothing as formal as a proposal or a ring or even a promise. Just his heart, shattered as it was, and he couldn’t even manage that.

Then it was too late. Made him promise to save who he could and sacrificed herself for him, for Ellie, for the hope of a future she would never see. She would never know what she’d done for him.

Her memory haunts him, nags at him, makes a home under his skin like a splinter. She’s there, hovering at the edges of his consciousness, a ghost in his peripheral vision. He sees glimpses of her on patrols, in the lurch of a small, slight woman in flannel, infected; in someone’s long, red-auburn hair at the stables; in a rough laugh amongst the crowds at the dining hall.

And then one night, he dreams. The kind of dream he hasn’t had in months, the kind of dream he used to have over and over, but this time it’s Tess instead of Sarah.

Tess, yelling at him to help her, goddammit, there’s gotta be something .

Tess, pulling back her collar to reveal the bite with one already twitching hand.

Tess, twisted and gnarled with infection, caught in a sea of flames.

He wakes sweating and panting with a scream stuck in his throat and her mutilated face burned into the backs of his eyelids.

“Joel? Wha-happened?”

Ezra stirs at his side, voice thick with sleep.

“It’s…it’s nothin’,” he says roughly, still trying to catch his breath. “Go back to sleep.”

Then there’s a hesitant hand on his shoulder, and he lets himself be pulled down and pressed into the cradle of Ezra’s good arm. Soon his breath flutters the hair at his temple, slow and even, but Joel doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

Five years earlier

“Shouldn’t have turned around,” Joel grumbles, hissing as he puts more weight on his bad leg. “We coulda made it.”

Tess looks up at him from under his left arm; he’s been using her as a human crutch for the last quarter mile.

“Sure,” she says drily, grunting as they take another uncoordinated, shuffling step. Behind them, black storm clouds are rolling in faster than they can walk and the wind has already picked up, whipping the first drops of rain hard enough to sting their cheeks. “You wanna get caught in this shit, be my guest, but I’m not gonna get soaked on your account, and you can’t fuckin’ walk.”

“Gonna be late. They won’t let us in.”

“Frank won’t care.”

“Bill will.”

 A dry chuckle. “Yeah, well…we both know Bill’s not in charge.”

They’d done the trip from Boston to Lincoln dozens of times without incident, but today, the raiders took them by surprise. It was rare to find a group so ballsy as to fuck with Joel and Tess. Their reputation extended well beyond the walls of the QZ, but apparently these folks hadn’t heard about them, or they were feeling brave, desperate, stupid, or some combination of the three.

All four men were now littering the side of the road about half a mile back, but Joel took a bullet to the calf for the trouble.

“Just a graze,” he’d said tightly, blood pooling sticky and warm in his boot, but Tess took one look at the damage and shook her head in disgust. They were a mile past one of their cache houses, and Lincoln was at least six miles down the road.

“We’ll get to the safehouse, get that bullet out of your leg, wait out the storm,” Tess said in a voice that suggested the decision was final.

It usually was with her.

The safehouse is an old hunting cabin off a logging road. They’d set it up as a cache years ago but hadn’t had much need for it given the proximity to Lincoln. The rain has begun in full force and they’re already soaked by the time Tess confirms the place is clear, Joel sagging against the side of the building to keep watch.

Once they’re safely inside, Joel collapses onto the cabin’s only piece of furniture, a decrepit sofa. Tess is rummaging around in her pack and pulls out the first aid kit– a box of cloths, a flask of alcohol, a needle and thread, a lighter, and a roll of duct tape.

“Pants off, Texas.”

He’s in too much pain for innuendo. Tess unwraps the makeshift bandage, already soaked with blood, and he slides his jeans down with a groan and a muffled curse. Then she unbuttons her short-sleeved button-down, stripping down to her bra.

“What?” she says off his incredulous look. “This is my favorite shirt, not gonna get it all bloody. On your front.”

He obliges, rolling until he’s face down on the couch so Tess can examine his leg.

“Huh,” she says. “Never gonna believe this.”

Joel grunts. “Try me.”

“Went clean through.”

“Lucky me,” he grits his teeth.

“You are,” she says. “Few inches off and we’d be having a very different conversation. Alright, might wanna bite down unless you want every infected in a half-mile radius finding us.”

“I’ll be fine. Just do it.”

The alcohol burns like a motherfucker, but at this point, the pain is barely a blip on his radar, more of the same. The stitches are a different story. He ends up grabbing his belt, doubling it up and sinking his teeth into the sweaty, sticky old leather as Tess finishes sewing up the wounds.

“Not my best work, but it’ll hold until we can get Frank to take a look. Pretty sure Bill still has a stash of antibiotics,” Tess murmurs, digging in her pack for a fresh cloth to wrap it. “Just gonna tie this. We have the oxy–”

“Ain’t tradin’ that for antibiotics.”

Tess huffs. “No, Frank won’t let him trade for those, anyway. But you might want the oxy later. Don’t know how long the storm is going to last and you’re shaking.”

He is; he hadn’t even realized it. He’s trembling and his skin is dewy with sweat.

“Shock,” he mutters. Not the first time he’s been shot, after all.

“Uh-huh. Alright, you can roll over.”

He does, with some difficulty. Outside, rain lashes at the windows, lightning cracks and fills the room with bursts of light. Joel shivers, teeth clattering.

“Shirt off,” she says. “You’re soaked, that’s not helping.”

He tries, but his fingers are shaking too hard to undo the buttons. She pushes his hands gently away and does them herself, urging him up to take the wet flannel off, then unzips his bedroll and tucks it around him. Then she places two white pills in his palm.

“Don’t need ‘em,” he grits out. These are the good pills and he’s thinking of all that profit gone to waste for a stupid fuckin’ graze.

She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of an argument, just wordlessly holds out the flask. The shaking is making his damn leg hurt even worse. He swallows the pills with a mouthful of booze exactly as she knew he would.

The pain slowly ebbs, replaced by a fuzzy, uncaring feeling he recognizes all too well. He’s drifting on that high as time spreads like liquid honey, faintly aware of Tess’ movements about the room–digging under the floorboards to examine their cache, replenishing their ammo, checking the windows and exits, still only half dressed. At some point, she lets her hair down, damp and darkened from the rain, and combs it out with her fingers. A shorter cut would be easier to maintain, less likely to attract unwanted attention, but it’s one of the few vanities she allows herself and he secretly loves it. It always smells like her, soft burnt gold and sweet no matter how many miles they’ve covered.

Eventually, she settles on the floor next to the couch, sipping at the flask with her gun at hand.

“Sleep,” she all but orders, and he does.

When he wakes, it takes his eyes a moment to adjust. It’s night. The sounds of thunder and the roar on the roof overhead tells him it’s still pouring. Tess is silhouetted in the window, the orange glow of a cigarette moving in the dark.

His leg throbs and he can’t hold back a grunt of pain. The drugs have worn off, but he’s not going to take more if he can avoid it. She notices, though, and turns.

“Should get away from the window,” he says. “Someone might see the light.”

A deep inhale. “Not in this shit. Can’t see two feet in front of your face out there. How’s the leg?”

“Fine,” he mutters, trying to sit up, grimacing, hoping she can’t see his expression in the dark.

“Clothes should be dry,” she says, moving to his side, the smell of smoke wafting over him. Another rare indulgence, soothing her overtaxed nerves. She hands him the flask and he accepts it gratefully. Her hand is firm on his shoulder as she eases down to the floor.

“All’s quiet,” she murmurs, stubbing out the cigarette on a piece of foil. She leans her head back against his thigh and his hand finds its way to her hair, rubbing circles into her scalp until she hums.

“I can take watch,” he says roughly. “Let you get some rest.”

“You’re in no shape. We’re fine,” she says, then softens. “Was looking forward to one of Bill’s meals. Heard they found a contact and traded for a share of beef. Real steak.”

“End of the goddamned world and Frank’s still holdin’ dinner parties,” Joel mutters.

His hand drifts lower, callused fingers dragging over the back of her cheek, feels her smirk.

“He offered us a place.”

“Huh? Who?”

“Frank. We’d have our pick of houses within the perimeter. Share the work, share the supplies.”

“...and Bill’s alright with that?”

“I don’t think Bill knows.”

“What, uh…what’d you say?”

She shrugs, a non-answer. The silence grows heavy and he lets it lie. Often he doesn’t need to wait long before Tess takes control of the conversation, anyway, and he’s too stunned to find the words.

“I think Frank is worried about Bill,” she says softly. “What happens…after.”

After.

Frank has been sick for months. They’ve managed to trade for certain medications that help control the symptoms, but there is no cure, no coordinated treatment. The last time they made the hike from the QZ, roughly six months ago, Frank was no longer able to get out of his wheelchair.

“Can’t say I blame him,” she continues, frowning, picking at something on the floor. “There’s strength in numbers.”

Joel grunts, noncommittal. He’d rather have his leg amputated with a rusty hacksaw than live within ten miles of Bill.

“I keep thinking about it,” Tess says. “No more FEDRA, no Fireflies…no getting shafted on trades, hunting these assholes down–”

Joel blinks, wiping his hands over his face, trying to clear his head. This conversation feels like a dream, like it’s not really happening, and he wishes he had a couple more oxy so he could blame the drugs. Tess, the woman who had him break a guy’s fingers for shorting her three cigarettes–one finger for each. The woman who just murdered four people because they made the lethal mistake of shooting first. Tess– his Tess–talking about settling down.

“Can you even imagine?” she sighs.

He grunts again. She turns to look at him but he can’t meet her eyes.

“Aren’t you tired, Joel?”

Tired? Of course he is. His back hurts, his knees hurt, everything fuckin’ hurts. He hasn’t slept a day without booze or pills in years. But the hurt keeps him grounded, keeps him going, keeps him from feeling…everything else.

“So you wanna quit?” he says flatly.

“What is there to quit?” she scoffs. “We were never going to settle in Boston, we said it was temporary–”

“It’s been ten fuckin’ years.”

“Yeah, and we had plans, remember? Get out of the city, away from FEDRA. This could be our chance.”

“That was before. There were more of us. An’ Tommy…”

“Tommy,” she sniffs. “You really think he’s coming back?”

No, he doesn’t. Their once-weekly radio messages are growing further apart as they have less and less to say. The thought sets an aching fire in Joel’s chest and he takes a long swig of the whiskey. It burns the same, but at least it’ll get him drunk enough to forget.

“Look,” she tries again. “We go to Bill and Frank’s, we can retire. I sure as hell wouldn’t mind taking it easy for once. We’ve spent half our lives running, we’re getting too fuckin’ old for this–”

The windows flash, thunder rumbles, and he can see the lines around her eyes in harsh relief. He hates her for bringing this up, hates himself even more for the anger it stirs in him.

“Y’don’t retire from this,” he says. “That ain’t the world we live in.”

Her derision is palpable. “Just what I thought you’d say.”

He shifts on the couch, tries to stretch his busted leg and hisses at the stabbing, lancing pain. “What do you want, Tess? You wanna, what…plant a garden? Grow fuckin’ tomatoes? You can do that just fine in the QZ.”

“No, I–”

“You wanna spend the rest of your life drinkin’ shitty wine over hors d’oeuvres in Frank’s backyard like some post-apocalyptic Martha Stewart?”

He’s being cruel and he knows it, but he can’t seem to shut his mouth. Under any other circumstance she’d probably haul off and punch him and that would be the end of it, but she’s strangely subdued, almost melancholy. It’s unsettling, unnerving, makes his jaw ache from holding it tight, waiting for the strike that won’t come.

“I want to live , Joel,” she snaps. “I want more than this. Shitty fuckin’ apartment, living off rations, in lockup every other week for the dumbest shit. This isn’t a life! It’s fuckin’ purgatory.”

“I can’t do that, Tess,” he spits. “You get…you get what you get with me. I ain’t gonna settle down in some shit suburb an’ play fuckin’ house.”

“Just…fuck it. Fine,” she snaps. “Forget it. You’ve made your point. We stay in Boston.”

He takes another long, unsatisfying drink and silently begs for it to take hold, to take him past the point of caring. They stay like that, quiet and rigid in their anger, until the weight of her head against his thigh is barely there, until he can’t pin his thoughts in place long enough to let them sink their teeth in. He’s drifting and dozing when she nudges him awake.

“Move over,” she mutters, and he does.

She crawls under the blanket and tucks herself against his side. This is how they work–quick to anger, quick to forget. She’s warm and soft against his bare skin and he’s able to momentarily shut out the pain. Not just his leg, but all of it.

Sarah.

Tommy.

Everything they did to get to this point.

She makes it easy to forget.

“You’re right,” she says softly, fingers skimming over his chest. “But…we can’t keep going like this, Texas. One of these days, our luck’s gonna run out.”

Later, she shucks off her jeans and briefs and straddles his hips. Her hair falls around him, featherlight and sweet against his cheeks, forming a curtain as their lips meet. She tastes of liquor and smoke and desperation. Tight and hot, blunt fingernails digging into his pecs as she rides him slowly, grinding down to hit just the right spot, using him. But that’s fine, she’ll get what she needs, what little he can give. A warm body on a cold night, another set of eyes on her six, the brains to his brawn. Two halves unable to make a whole.

Lightning flashes and she hovers over him like an angel, haloed by the light as she comes, and he follows her into the dark.

Present day

Two weeks after his impromptu proposal, Joel comes home with a spring in his step. He’s exhausted, just about worn down to the marrow, but he’s home for dinner and the patrol schedule has loosened up. He has two whole days off.

He’s going to sleep. He’s going to spend time with his kid. Maybe pick up his guitar for the first time in weeks. And he’s going to spend at least one of those days with Ezra, because it’s been way too fuckin’ long. 

There’s music on the record player and the smell of something cooking. He half expects to see a frilly apron, too, but no, it’s just Ezra in an undershirt and dark jeans standing at the stove. Joel stops in the doorway to admire the sight–bare shoulders and biceps, the dark curl of hair at the nape of his neck, the easy confidence in his movements.

“Hey,” he says in greeting, suddenly itching to touch him, to ground himself in the warmth of his body. He moves in and wraps his arms around Ezra’s waist and presses his cheek to his back. Home.

“Exercise caution, songbird, there are hot things afoot,” he says. “And a stew.”

Joel muffles his groan and mutters into the back of Ezra’s neck. “You’re terrible.”

“Terribly charming, I agree. The stew should be moderately edible, if my culinary talents haven’t failed me.”

But Joel finds he isn’t much interested in the food. The sight of all that bare skin has him wanting.

“Supper can wait,” Joel murmurs, drawing his hands across Ezra’s stomach, his hip, swaying a little. “S’go to bed.”

“As much as I would love to indulge, I’m afraid we have social obligations,” Ezra sighs.

Joel pulls back, frowning. “No.”

“We’re due at the Bison in an hour.”

“Shit,” Joel grumbles. “This what I think it is?”

“I’m afraid so,” he says, turning around. “And it would be in poor taste to miss our own party. Go clean up so we can eat.”

“Thinkin’ I’m about to have a bad case of the shits,” Joel mutters, but he turns away and heads for the stairs. Poor taste aside, he has no desire to face Ellie’s wrath…let alone Maria’s.

Later, showered and dressed in one of his nicer flannels, he finds Ezra still in the kitchen doling out bowls of stew, a clean, pressed button-down shirt over his undershirt. The empty sleeve has been carefully tailored to Ezra’s form, no hastily tied knot or cut-off sleeve, and the color makes his dark eyes look even darker.

Joel swallows past the lump in his throat.

“Seems a bit unfair for you to look this good when I can’t do a damn thing about it,” he says, voice low.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, but we’re still going to the party. Eat.”

He does, and the stew is more than edible, but he can’t eat much. He’s distracted and restless, finds himself irrationally jealous of Ezra’s spoon.

“Don’t forget to pretend to be surprised,” Ezra says, adjusting Joel’s collar at the door. “And try to enjoy yourself, hmm? I’ll make it up to you.”

“Fine,” he grumbles. “But you smash cake in my face at any point, you lose your other arm.”

To Ellie’s credit, it’s nothing fancy. Sure, they’ve turned the fairy lights on at the Bison and there’s a cake on the bar, but they kept it small–which, in Jackson, means only a quarter of the town. God knows they’ve earned the right to enjoy themselves and Joel doesn’t mind being half the excuse, even if it means blushing his way through a few awkward toasts.

He remembers his first wedding, not much bigger or more extravagant than this one. At least this time Tommy isn’t 15 years old and drunk as a skunk, vomiting in the ladies’ room because the men’s room at the Elks Lodge was out of order. His new bride had been vomiting in the ladies’ room, too–for a different reason.

This is definitely an improvement. In fact, he’s almost enjoying himself when Ellie sidles up to him, looking far too pleased with herself.

“How’s life with the ol’ ball n’ chain?”

Joel sips his beer. “The hell d’you come up with this shit?”

“Dina’s got us watching old episodes of Cheers ,” she says, wrinkling her nose. Then she grins, gesturing to the room. “So, whaddya think? Not bad for a reception, huh?”

“Not bad,” he admits, hugging her to his side, relishing the way she hangs on for a second longer than usual. “Thanks, kid. But no more surprise parties or you’re grounded ‘til you’re 30.”

“Better not get married again, then.”

“Don’t intend to,” he murmurs, watching Ezra talking to someone across the room. He can’t see her face, but her hair shines under the lights and she laughs at something Ezra has said, and in a flash of painful nostalgia he can only see Tess.

She’d never asked for anything like this. Probably would have laughed in his face if he’d proposed, not that he’d ever been inclined to. But there had been a time when she’d suggested something more permanent. Something more defined. Something much like the home he shares with Ezra. And he’d turned away, unable to think he deserved to be happy after a lifetime of brutality.

When Tess died, he’d told Ellie not to talk about her, and then he’d locked her memory away with Sarah’s. But Sarah had come back to him, with time and patience and Ellie’s influence.

Tess hadn’t. And somehow, in the scant three years since her passing, he’d managed to keep her tucked away, secreted at the back of his mind in that dark, lonely place. Nothing but a shoddy stone cairn somewhere in Western Massachusetts to show for it. But something in him has reawakened, Ezra bringing it out in him, and now–

“Joel?”

Ellie is looking up at him with concern. He blinks, squints, and the woman turns so he can see her profile–not Tess, not even close. Her hair is too short, her laugh too modest, her nose too long.

But he can’t convince his damn heart.

“I’m–uh, I just–gimme a minute,” he whispers hoarsely.

He doesn't even realize it’s happening until the panic is on top of him, until he tries to take a breath and his ribs feel bound in iron. Abandoning Ellie, he makes it to the door, slips outside without his jacket, the cold air hitting his lungs like a bomb.

He leans against the wall in the alley, willing his lungs to inflate. They do, just not as fast or as fully as he’d like. Jesus, he hasn’t had one this bad in months. Not since before Ellie and he–

A hand between his shoulder blades, a familiar voice at his shoulder.

“Breathe, love.”

“Shit,” Joel croaks, half startled, half relieved.

“Our young prodigy sent me,” Ezra murmurs. “Said you looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

Joel can’t find the breath to answer, so he just nods.

“Should I be concerned?” Ezra is peering at him. “Are you chasing spirits, songbird?”

“Think they’re chasin’ me,” he rasps.

Ezra nods, draping Joel’s coat over his shoulders before his hand resumes its careful path up and down his spine.

“You know,” he says casually. “Normally one gets cold feet before they’ve exchanged rings.”

A laugh bubbles up from Joel’s throat–more a barking cough under the circumstances–but something in his chest relents.

“It ain’t that,” he mutters when he’s caught his breath. “Jus’...too much goin’ on in there.”

“Should we perhaps take our leave?”

“God yes,” Joel breathes. “Please.”

“Come,” Ezra says, threading his arm through Joel’s. “The merriment is for their sake. I doubt we’ll be missed.”

Joel isn’t so sure about that, but he lets Ezra lead him without protest, still trying to calm his heart. It’s a short walk and soon they’re standing on the porch at Ezra’s old house. He lets them in with the key Cee keeps under the mat.

“I suspect they won’t think to look for us here,” Ezra says. They shrug off their jackets and hang them in the hall, leave their boots at the door, and Joel feels a powerful sense of déja vu walking into Ezra’s office. The room is sparse now, most of the record collection having been moved to their shared house. There’s a plant in the corner on the pedestal where the record player used to be and a few books line the shelves. It’s less inhabited, less personal, but his memory fills in the blanks.

“I’m going to investigate the coffee situation,” Ezra says, leaving Joel with a pat on the shoulder.

Joel sinks into the loveseat across from Ezra’s usual chair. He hears him moving around in the kitchen down the hall, the sounds of water running. His head still feels fuzzy, but at least he can fuckin’ breathe. He closes his eyes, sags into the cushions.

Ezra comes back with two mugs and sets them on the coffee table, then moves to take his seat across the room before stopping himself. He glances back at Joel, smiles faintly. Not the only one having déja vu, apparently.

“Apologies. Old habits,” he murmurs, taking the seat next to Joel instead. “Drink.”

Joel does, relishing the warmth of the coffee despite the wood-like taste of the chicory. Ezra is watching him intently, his expression carefully neutral.

“It ain’t–it’s nothin’ bad,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. “It’s, uh…all this has me thinkin’ about someone I knew…before.”

Ezra frowns. “Your…wife?”

Joel shakes his head, realizing with a further pang of remorse; he’s never talked about her, never even said her name aloud. “That was before…Before. Tess was my…business partner. Back in Boston, we uh…we were…”

“Attached?” Ezra offers.

Joel snorts. “Yeah. Yeah, we were…together. More or less.”

Ezra leans back into the cushions, takes a long sip from his mug. Joel searches his face for jealousy or anger, any kind of sign he should stop. But Ezra has the almost infuriating ability to detach, and his expression gives nothing away.

“Ain’t a big story,” Joel mutters. “We worked well together. Survived a hell of a lot. It was kinda…kinda an unspoken thing. Happened without us meanin’ it to, I think. Spend fifteen years with a person…you get to know ‘em. We shared everything–the best and worst, I always had a partner through it. Guess it was kinda inevitable, but…but she, uh…”

“You loved her,” Ezra prompts softly. Joel looks down, realizes he’s taken his hand.

“Yeah,” he rasps. “But I couldn’t…I couldn’t. She was bit ‘fore we came out here. She saved my ass one more time, then she was gone. Told me to take the kid and…and make it up to her.”

“Which…you did.”

Joel nods, throat going tight at the thought. He’d saved Ellie, Ellie had saved him. He thought he’d done his duty to Tess, but now he’s not so sure. The ring on his finger feels heavy again, like a broken promise.

“I guess all this…just catchin’ up to me,” he murmurs. “Didn’t even say goodbye. All happened so fast. And then…then I had Ellie to think of. And Tess died…not knowin’ I…how I…”

He trails off, unable to continue. He closes his eyes and all he can see is Tess standing in the warm evening light of the State House, telling him to save who he can save.

“Lately…I keep thinkin’ I see her,” he rasps, swiping at his eyes. “Around town, on patrol…she woulda got along real nice here. Made a good life for herself. But she never got a chance.”

Ezra brings his arm up to cradle the back of Joel’s neck, guides him gently down against his shoulder so he can bury his nose in the crook of his neck, the earthy scent of his shaving lotion a distant comfort. He wraps his arms around his waist.

“She knew,” he murmurs against his ear.

Joel shakes his head, clutches at the fabric of Ezra’s shirt, presses his face more firmly into his collar.

“She did,” he insists, gentle but firm. “And I know this because I know how you love, I have been…the recipient of said attentions, and I’m certain that even in your somewhat emotionally repressed state–”

Joel shudders, a dry laugh through his tears. Somewhat emotionally repressed couldn’t begin to describe how closed off he’d been. But then, Tess had her own demons, her own hard, impossible shell. They were as bad for each other as they were good, so many times they were the salt in each others’ wounds. But over time she had warmed, loosened, become more pliant. Somewhere along the line, she’d forgiven herself, while he continued to wear his self-hatred like armor.

Ezra pulls back, looking at him curiously.

“Y’don’t know, Ez, you don’t–I wasn’t…like this,” he says thickly. “Was barely alive.”

“But you are now. What she saw in you was worthy, so you live for her.”

“Sometimes I think…I don’t…don’t deserve to.”

“Whether any of us is deserving is beside the point,” he says gently. “You’re here, so you live for the ones who couldn’t.”

Joel huffs softly and Ezra leans in, presses a long kiss to the furrow between his brows, resting forehead to forehead, sharing breath. There’s an ache in his chest with her name on it clamoring for attention, a grief mixed with shame and hope and all the leftover love that had nowhere to go until now. A rough thing worn smooth over time.

Wasn’t time that did it , he thinks dully.

When their mouths meet, it’s hard and frantic and needy, pent up desire and sadness, a need to prove something. It’s been too long and there’s been too much and he needs to forget, so he lets Ezra ease him back, knee between Joel’s thighs, both of them sliding down into the cushions.

“Aren’t we getting a bit…far in years…to be doing this kind of thing on the couch?” Ezra murmurs between kisses, lowering himself onto Joel with a groan.

“Weren’t complainin’…last time,” he grits out, just as Ezra’s tongue traces the seam of his lips, delves deeper, stealing both his ability to speak and his last coherent thought.

“Touché.”

Ezra’s hand fumbles between them, untucking his shirt. Joel growls into his mouth as his husband finds warm flesh, takes the meat of his lower lip between his teeth and tugs gently, then soothes the bite with his tongue. It’s all desperation, a hiss as Joel rakes the shirt up Ezra’s back, rewarded with the warm expanse of bare skin.

They’ve barely managed to find a rhythm before the front door opens and Cee’s voice rings out in the hall.

“Hello?”

“Shit,” Ezra hisses as they scramble apart. “Just us, birdie,” he calls, jumping up with a blush of pink across his cheeks. He’s smoothing his hair back, subtly trying to adjust himself. Joel bites back a chuckle. Hasn’t been caught out like this since he was a goddamned teenager necking in his dad’s pickup.

He hastily tucks his shirt back in and follows Ezra into the hall where Cee is unwinding her scarf, hanging it alongside their coats.

“Saw the light,” she says, nodding toward the office, looking back and forth between them. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, no,” Ezra says, sounding as out of breath as Joel feels. “We simply required a moment of respite from the festivities.”

“Yeah, I get that,” she says with a wry smile. “Don’t worry, I think Ellie’s telling everyone you two left to…y’know. Honeymoon.”

“Christ,” Joel mutters, ducking his head, warmth creeping up the back of his neck. Thankfully Ezra is quick to change the subject.

“And where is your gentleman friend this evening?”

She rolls her eyes. “‘Gentleman friend?’ Really?”

“Your…lover?” Ezra tries, grimacing even as he says it.

“Gross, please don’t ever say that again,” she shudders. “ Luke is on the wall tonight, but he sends his congratulations.”

“Aha. Well, I suppose if you’re in for the night, we should take our—”

“Actually,” she says, drawing out the word. “I skipped dinner at the caf…and I have everything for grilled cheese…”

Joel recognizes her doe-eyed expression. He’s seen it on his own kid often enough when she’s asking after something, but Ezra doesn’t seem to take the hint.

“Oh,” he frowns. “We wouldn’t want to intrude on your dinner.”

“No, I mean–you make the best grilled cheese. Plus maybe I wanted to, y’know, spend time with you?”

Ezra shoots him a look. “Oh, I–I, uh–I’m not certain we’re exactly–”

“I could eat,” Joel cuts in, reassuring him with a nod, relieved to have the focus off his shoulders for the time being.

“Well, then…save the butter for your bread, birdie,” Ezra grins. “We’d be delighted to keep you company and share a meal. Let’s introduce my husband to a…family tradition of sorts.”

Which is how Joel ends up at the kitchen table watching Ezra and Cee working together at the counter. They banter and trade gentle barbs side by side, and Joel finds himself relaxing into it, happy for the distraction.

“When we first moved to Jackson, I couldn’t sleep,” Cee explains, scraping butter from a brick and dropping it into a pan to melt. “Had a lot of bad dreams. Ez was usually awake, too, so we’d meet up in the kitchen.”

“Cee neglects to mention that we were also half starved at the time. Access to a full pantry was an extravagance neither of us could have imagined…I suppose it’s no small wonder we sought solace in sustenance.”

It’s easy to see how the two made it together; they work as a team in the kitchen just as they must have worked together to survive outside the walls. But something about watching him with Cee tugs at Joel’s heart. Ezra has always been comfortable in his own skin, but with Cee he’s even softer, even more himself.

“Didn’t have much in the way of culinary experience between the two of us,” Ezra says, frowning in concentration while cutting thin slices from a small wheel of cheese. Cee begins peeling a clove of garlic. “But we had plenty of time on our hands to learn–isn’t that right, birdie?”

“Yep. Can you believe I’d never even had this stuff before?” Cee asks, looking over her shoulder and holding up the peeled clove, and Joel shakes his head. “I had no idea what I was missing. Anyway. Ez here got really good at making cheese sandwiches and that kinda became our thing. Bad dream? Grilled cheese. Rough day? Grilled cheese.”

“Sometimes it seemed that was the only thing I could get you to eat with any regularity,” Ezra says.

“Yeah, well…some days were bad ,” she says, wrinkling her nose.

“But…it got better.” Ezra looks over at her, and Joel can hear the uncertainty in his voice. It’s a question as much as a statement.

“Yeah,” she says, smiling. “Yeah, it did.”

Joel thinks of his early days in Jackson, Ellie’s nightmares, the gun under his mattress. The constant fear he was failing her. How they picked up the pieces and turned them into routines, rituals, things to get them through the hard days. Built something from two patched-together lives. Found their people.

Movie nights or grilled cheese sandwiches, they figured it out.

“This is cool,” Cee says to Ezra as they bring the food to the table. “I almost miss having you around here. Almost,” she teases.

“I’m sure it’s much–”

“Quieter?” Cee offers with a smirk, and Joel has to hide his own with a cough.

“I was going to say ‘less lively’ but fair enough,” Ezra mutters, then softens. “I’ll make dinner for you anytime, birdie. Just say the word.”

The food is good, but the company is better. Ezra and Cee carry the conversation while they eat and Joel lets them reminisce, contributing the occasional nod or grunt of agreement. If Cee thinks he’s quieter than usual, if she notices his eyes are still a little red, she’s kind enough not to mention it. More than anything, he wishes Tess could be here, wishes she could have had this, too.

At one point, Ezra takes his hand under the table, sensing his need for an anchor. He answers his questioning look with a squeeze, soaks in the sound of Cee’s bubbling laughter and the adoration in Ezra’s eyes, decides there might be something to Ezra’s words after all.

He may not deserve it, but he has it all the same. Shame to let it go to waste.

It’s late by the time they take their leave, bundling up at the door.

“Thanks for the sandwiches,” Cee says. “And for, y’know, not forgetting about me now that you’re all domesticated and shit.”

“I could never,” Ezra says, enfolding her in a tight, one-armed hug, offers his usual departing words of wisdom. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, birdie.”

“What, like get hitched?” she says drily.

Joel urges him out the door before that can fully sink in, has Ezra stopping in his tracks and turning around.

“Wait–”

“Relax, Ez,” Joel mutters.

“Did you–she said–”

“Uh-huh, I heard what she said.”

“But–”

“C’mon,” he says, tugging at his hand. “S’too fuckin’ cold out here.”

Ezra relents with a soft grumble, one last worried glance over his shoulder. Joel bites his lip on a smile. That girl sure knows how to push his buttons.

“Thank you for…indulging me,” Ezra says after covering some ground in silence. “I confess I…I don’t think I realized how much I missed our time together. It was just Cee and I for so long…”

“She still needs you,” Joel says, nudging him lightly before taking his hand. “An’ I don’t mind sharin’.”

The night is bitter cold and the wind forces them to hurry toward home. Ellie, loud and slightly drunk, if Joel had to guess, is just turning onto Rancher Street as they get there.

“Dudes! You missed a great party.”

She stumbles a little, giggles, and Joel reaches out to steady her.

“You owe me, fuckers. I covered for you. Even saved you some cake before the rest of the vultures got to it,” she says, just this side of slurring as she hands him a bundle of waxed cloth. “It’s super fucking good.”

“Uh-huh,” Joel says. “How much did you have to drink, kid?”

“Only three! Or wait…four, maybe? I dunno, Cat says m’a lightweight, whatever that means.”

“Three what? Fifths?” Joel asks incredulously.

“Just beer,” she wrinkles her nose. "Maria wouldn’t let me have the hard stuff even though I told her I can take it, that bi–”

“Gonna stop you right there,” Joel says, shooting Ezra a look over her head. Now it’s his turn to smother a laugh. “Remind me to thank her tomorrow.”

Ellie grunts and inserts herself between them, looping one arm through each of theirs for the short walk to the end of the street. She leans a little heavy on Joel’s arm, plunks her cheek on his shoulder. She’s running on beer and cake and probably not much else as they make it to the house.

“I’ll be right in, just, uh…gotta get this one settled,” he says to Ezra, handing him the cake.

“Hydrate, young prodigy,” Ezra advises her, and Ellie sticks out her tongue, follows it with a raspberry.

Joel walks Ellie into the garage room and she plops down on her bed with a grunt. Joel goes to the little standalone sink, fills a cup with water. By the time he places the cup on her nightstand, she’s already curled up on her side.

“C’mon, kid. Can’t sleep with your damn boots on.”

“Can too.”

Joel sighs and unlaces her boots, gently tugging until they come loose. She giggles, tries to help, only ends up kicking him in the arm, which makes her laugh harder.

“Wanna watch those space wars movies. Y’know, those ones with the robots? Are-too somethin’ and see-pee-oh.”

He cocks his head. “Y’mean Star Wars?”

“Yes! And the brother who kisses his sister,” she says, then laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “Pew-pew, motherfuckers.”

“You’re full of it tonight,” he sighs, pulling the crumpled blankets out from under her and over her shoulders before kneeling by her side. “Think you need a bucket?”

“Nah,” she yawns. “M’fine.”

“Alright. Drink the water. I’ll check on ya in a bit.”

Before he can stand, her arm wiggles out from under the blanket and wraps around his shoulders, pulls him down into an awkward hug that melts him. He closes his eyes, holds her tight, drops a kiss in her hair.

“You’re goin’ soft, old man,” she mutters, but she’s still holding on.

“Uh-huh,” he says, throat tight. “Love you.”

When she finally pulls back, she smirks up at him with all the confidence of Han Solo.

“I know.”

Inside, Joel shucks off his coat to the sound of Ezra rummaging through the kitchen drawer. He’s unwrapped the cake Ellie saved, now slightly squished and sitting on the counter.

“Has our girl found the answers at the bottom of a bottle?”

“Found an attitude, more like. She’ll be fine, just needs to sleep it off. Still hungry?” Joel asks, nodding toward the cake.

“Ah. Thought I’d see what all the fuss is about,” Ezra says, bringing out a knife and aiming to cut a slice.

“Ain’t we supposed to do that together?”

Ezra’s grin is a slow, sweet spread thick as buttercream. “I thought you’d never ask.”

They share the knife and cut into the cake, Joel’s hand warm over Ezra’s. It’s an impressive dessert by Jackson standards. Real frosting–god knows where they found icing sugar–and the center has a layer of strawberry jam. Joel isn’t much for sweets, but he takes a bite when Ezra offers. It makes his teeth ache.

“I know you said no cake smashing, but–”

Before he can duck away, Ezra has swiped a fingertip of jam and smeared it lightly across Joel’s cheek. His eyes flash with mirth as he leans in, meaning to lick up the mess he’s made with the tip of his tongue.

It snaps the band of tension that’s been simmering all night.

Joel turns his head before Ezra can finish his cleanup and crashes their mouths together in an inelegant kiss. His hands find the collar of his fancy shirt and holds him, walks him back until he’s crowded against the counter and licks into him, tastes the remnants of vanilla sugar on his tongue. He only stops when Ezra yelps, having almost knocked the remaining cake off the counter in an effort to brace himself.

“Shit, sorry,” Joel pants, half laughing, half delirious with it, suddenly lighter than he’s felt all week.

Ezra grins, tongue darting out to wet kiss-swollen lips before cupping his cheek, leaning in to nip at him. “I suppose I did say I’d make it up to you. You’ve always been a touch…impatient.”

“ I’m impatient?” Joel growls, pressing his thigh tighter to the growing hardness between Ezra’s legs to emphasize the point. There’s still strawberry jam drying sticky on his cheek. He doesn’t care. “Finish your damn cake, Ez. Let’s go to bed.”

So they do, curled up naked under the quilt. There’s the hint of something more, something wanted, limbs entwined and hands exploring as they share slow, lazy kisses. What started as a fire mellowed somewhere between downstairs and the bedroom, and the pull of sleep is strong, exhaustion settling heavy around Joel’s shoulders. The mind is ready but the body is unwilling.

“Sorry,” he sighs into Ezra’s neck when it’s clear they’re not getting anywhere.

“No rush,” Ezra murmurs, stretching out with Joel’s head on his shoulder. “There’s time.”

They stay like that for a while, Joel drifting on the verge of sleep while Ezra strokes his hair. He finds himself thinking of Tess again, of all the moments they missed because they were too busy scraping by. How this was all she’d asked of him, and he’d turned her away because he couldn’t imagine deserving such a life.

“Songbird?” Ezra’s voice is a low rumble in his chest, and Joel tightens his grip, nuzzles closer.

“Mmm?”

“The other morning over breakfast…when you asked me if I wanted…something more…”

Joel’s stomach sinks. “Yeah.”

Ezra hesitates and the silence only serves to tighten the knot in Joel’s chest. He feels the jumpy thrum of Ezra’s heartbeat against his cheek, waiting for him to deliver the letdown. Finally, he speaks, his voice low and rich and close to Joel’s ear, a whispered confession.

“I have never…had this. Men with my proclivities didn’t have a dearth of options before, and that became even less likely after…well. The life of a raider does not endeavor itself to…romantic entanglements. Not to say I’m inexperienced, but in matters of the heart I am woefully naive.”

In the dark, Joel can barely make out Ezra’s features, feels the tips of his fingers carding absently through his hair, skimming the shell of his ear, warming the back of his neck.

“Which is to say…I’ve known my share of lovers, certainly…but not…love.”

It takes a moment in Joel’s near-sleep-addled state to fully grasp his meaning. “Oh…”

Ezra tips his chin up, almost prideful. “I had long ago come to the conclusion that I wasn’t worthy of…something like this. I’d made my peace with that. You spoke of not being…deserving…and I know all too well what that’s like.”

His voice dips low, tugs at the meat of Joel’s heart. 

“I don’t tell you this for pity’s sake,” Ezra continues. “Just to ensure you understand that I…this is…more than I could have hoped for, songbird. I don’t take this commitment lightly.”

Times like this, Joel wishes he was better with words. As it is, all he can manage is to grasp Ezra’s hand and hold on, press a kiss to his knuckles.

“I know,” he whispers. He’d been so caught up with his ghosts, he hadn’t stopped to consider Ezra might have some of his own.

Later, he’ll put on his sweatpants and boots and wrap himself in a robe and go outside to check on Ellie, peer in through the frosted glass pane to find her where he left her, curled in bed and sleeping soundly. But for now, he’s content to stay like this, wrapped in his husband’s embrace, sheltered from the cold.

Maybe they didn’t have to do it alone.

Joel wakes to a huff of breath against his shoulder, Ezra wrapped around him like a second blanket. He’s nuzzling at the base of his neck, tickling the hairs there, peppering his upper back with kisses.

“Songbird,” he hums, tightening his arm low around Joel’s hips, nipping at the muscle along the ridge of his shoulder, clearly hoping to finish what they started last night. In the light of day, with a good night’s sleep behind him and no plans for the morning, that looks all the more likely.

“M’awake,” Joel grunts, turning over, doesn’t even have time to open his eyes before their mouths meet, hungry and wanting. Ezra’s soft moan resonates between them, hips hitching slightly, already hard and pressed tight to Joel’s thigh. It’ll take a little longer for Joel to get there, but not by much.

“Do you remember when I first…had you in this bed?” Ezra asks, pulling back, panting slightly.

Joel swallows hard, nods, still dizzy from the kiss and blinking sleep from his eyes.

“How I took you apart on my tongue? Hmm?”

Ezra on his knees at the edge of the bed, Joel’s torso bared and his jeans around his ankles, in too much of a rush to fully undress, glow of the golden hour slanting through the window. The memory sparks a pang of longing so strong it physically aches, sends a groan rippling up from Joel’s throat and a pulse of heat through his gut.

The body is more than willing this morning.

“I remember thinking to myself…that I had never witnessed a sunset more beautiful…had never experienced the majesty of a billion stars in the bliss of night, or watched the arc of a dove across the morning sky…than when you reached the apex of your enjoyment.”

Joel can’t speak, can’t breathe, fixed in place by Ezra’s dark eyes and his husked voice as his fingers trace the hollow at Joel’s throat. Their noses touch, the last words felt as a featherlight brush against his lips as much as heard.

“And I thought…in my haze of pleasure…that I want to be the reason you look like that. I want to watch you come apart every damn day for the rest of forever. And I will be there to put you back together again.”

Anything Joel might have thought to say, inadequate as it would have been, is quickly swallowed by Ezra’s kiss. His tongue skirts the pout of his lower lip and then they’re sinking into each other, a consummation of Ezra’s unexpected vows.

“Jesus,” Joel breathes when they pull apart. “You stay awake all night comin’ up with that?”

Ezra arches an eyebrow, eyes shining. “Did it work?”

With an agility that surprises even himself, Joel growls deep in his chest and rolls Ezra under him, pinning his willing form with his weight. His mouth finds the hinge of Ezra’s jaw, the freckle behind his ear, the ridge of his collarbone. The want is back, that old friend, and he gives into it, lets it lead him.

Down, teasing the ridge of a pebbled nipple with his teeth, down, lapping at the hollow of his breastbone, down, dipping his tongue into the soft circle of his navel and swirling, eliciting a stifled gasp, stomach twitching.

“You know I’m ticklish, cher ,” Ezra huffs, and Joel grins, does it again just to make him squirm before soothing the overstimulation with a gentle, firm bite to the softness at the base of his stomach.

He drags his scruff along his Adonis belt, teasing him with the heat of his breath, the slick muscle of his tongue lapping, sucking a mark into the curve at his hip. He admires the flush on his skin where he’s bruised him, the red scratches his beard has left behind, revels in the lightly painful tug of Ezra’s fingers in his hair, urging him on.

When he finally takes him in, the familiar taste and weight of him on his tongue is almost as delicious as the sound Ezra makes. It’s a whimper, a breath of equal relief and anticipation, soothing the ache while stoking the fire. It’s a heady rush, that first taste, the salt-tang of him, an invitation to see how much pleasure he can wring from his body.

Joel looks up, finds Ezra watching him intently, hungrily, head cocked to one side, chest flushed and heaving. He has to admit, the view ain’t half bad, stokes the heat roiling in his belly, and he grinds down into the mattress to find some relief. He takes him deeper, traces the ridges and veins with his tongue on the way back up, revels in the broken sounds he draws from Ezra’s lips.

“Songbird–your mouth, divinity itself could–could not–ohhh–”

He cuts himself off with a moan as Joel’s tongue circles and flutters, as his free hand grips him at the base and begins a firm stroke to help things along.

When Ezra’s hand pulls away, seeking purchase in the tangled mess of their bedding, Joel grabs for it instead, reaches up to lace their fingers, resting them on Ezra’s stomach and lightly holding him down. The intimacy is almost too much.

“Oh, oh love, you–I’m–”

Joel pulls off, still stroking, teasing. “You gonna come?”

Another throaty whimper, back arching into it. It doesn’t take long, they’ve been dancing around this for hours. He watches as Ezra comes apart in his hand with a choked gasp, spilling over his knuckles and onto the wiry curls at the base of his stomach, a breathed oh oh yes oh , and the power is a heady, giddy rush.

Every damn day for the rest of forever, indeed.

He crawls up the bed and settles on his side, allowing himself a moment of smug self-satisfaction. He’ll never match Ezra’s eloquence or even his energy, but he can manage this. Have him blissed out and shuddering in his arms, gazing up at him from under dark lashes, rendered monosyllabic. Has him curling into him, lips pressed to Joel’s throat and mumbling in French, legs tangled, arm cinched around his waist. He can hold him through the come-down. Can love him the way he deserves.

There’s quiet in the aftermath, Ezra nuzzling tenderly at Joel’s throat. His voice is all grit when he speaks.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel smirks, absently rubbing the back of Ezra’s neck. “Like you needed a reason to talk.”

“You love it,” Ezra whispers, peppering small kisses across the ridge of Joel’s jaw.

“Hmm. Reckon I do.” 

Ezra’s ministrations at his throat become more urgent, the graze of teeth and lips and tongue. Joel’s cock kicks against his stomach as Ezra sucks at his collarbone hard enough to leave a mark. His hand slips between them and then he’s teasing with his fingers, stroking him without pressure, cupping and petting him until he’s aching. Joel watches, drowsy with lust, as Ezra gathers his own slick spill in his palm before wrapping it around Joel’s cock to mingle with his precome, easing his movements considerably. The sight is enough to make him shudder. He thinks he hears Ezra murmur something over the rush of blood in his ears, something that sounds suspiciously like waste not, want not , and Joel thinks there’s still plenty of want to go around.

“Fuuuuck,” he breathes into Ezra’s neck, and it’s a syrupy hot slide into the tight wet clutch of his fist.

Joel lets himself sink into it, lets the tension coiling in his gut unfurl and bloom as Ezra strokes him. He fumbles for something to hold, hand finds the meat of Ezra’s ass, the back of a thigh, hears a low chuckle in his ear as he gasps and pulls him close. Soon he’s panting into the warm crevice of Ezra’s throat, unable to form more than hollow sounds of pleasure and want as Ezra works him through it.

“Like that?” he murmurs, the words like velvet, and Joel can barely manage a nod. Somehow his lips find Ezra’s and it’s a long, broken moan into his mouth as he feels the band at the base of his groin tightening, tightening, ready to snap. There’s only the sound of his own heavy breathing and the slick slide of Ezra’s hand on him and then he’s pulsing, throbbing, falling apart with a cry.

They’re tender and warm in the afterglow, taking advantage of a rare quiet morning to laze in bed while the sun rises, but Joel finds himself distracted, that nagging doubt creeping in to fill the space created by their lovemaking.

“Tell me about her,” Ezra murmurs, sensing his disquiet. “Tess.”

He hesitates.

“You sure?”

Ezra kisses him softly. “Memory poses no threat to my affections, songbird.”

It should be awkward, Joel thinks, but the words come easily. She’s been at the forefront of his mind for so many days, it’s a relief to lay it all out.

And when he’s told him as much as he can remember, and the sun is much higher in the sky, Ezra strokes his cheek with his thumb and offers a simple truth.

“I have her to thank for your being here.”

And he does, Joel supposes.

For giving him one last kick in the ass. 

For insisting he carry her hope for a cure, a future, and a life beyond the QZ.

For giving him a daughter.

For giving him a second chance.

He cups Ezra’s face in his hands, kisses him soundly, and silently promises he won’t let it go to waste.

[kissorkill16]

Before All Of This...

By JJ

My name is Blake Thing. I'm 43 years old, and a psychiatrist of 9 years. But there's something you all might find a little ironic, hilarious even.

I am a pathological liar.

But that doesn't mean I lie unconditionally or uncontrollably, I actually have full control over what I say. However, when I lie, it's only when necessary.

But enough small talk for now. This afternoon, I am with my most frequent patient, Nicholas Roth. He had been visiting me for a month now to help keep control of his Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, PTSD for short. We first met in Sheldon Davis' Therapy Clinic, where his parents introduced him to me.

"Mom, Dad, what's going on? Who is this?", the young man asked, worry painting his features.

"Nicky,", his mother started, "I was up late last night on the phone, and this is Dr. Thing. He's a doctor, and we think it'd be a great idea for you to spend at least an hour with him for a therapy session."

However, Nicky's worried features didn't seem to lessen. "What kind of doctor?"

"Psychiatrist.", said his father.

"You're leaving me alone with a shrink?!", he yelled. I could tell he was less than pleased with the idea. Most boys his age with the same problems as him would, thinking that they're all fine and that they don't need therapy.

"Nicky, it's only for an hour. He was the best doctor we could find, and these nightmares are getting out of hand. Just try it out, honey, and if it doesn't work, we'll try something else.", said his mother, trying to reason with him.

Nicky gave in, and I actually made him comfortable for the past hour. He actually opened up, and just like that for the past month, he's been seeing me. What's more is that I've been giving him a little notebook to write down his thoughts into whenever he feels stressed, and even that worked.

Now let's get back to the present. Nicky is once again in my office, sitting across from me.

"Now, Nicky. It's been a while since I've asked you this, but have you been writing in your notebook like we discussed?"

"Of course."

He handed me the notebook, and I opened it. It was strange, because all I could see were pictures and pictures of a black figure, and of a giant man in a sweater vest and a moustache. I was pulled out of my thoughts when I saw Nicky in the corner of my eye, his eyes were flooding up with tears.

"Goodness, Nicholas! Are you alright?", I asked.

"I...I'm fine, sir. Just something in my eye.", he replied, his voice shaky. He was crying, but he still kept that nervous smile on his face, as if he was trying to hide it. I set the notebook aside and turned to look at him.

"Nicholas, we've been over this before. You're safe here. Anything on your mind, you can tell me. I won't judge you, I won't chastise you, I won't hurt you.", I reassured him.

I gave him some tissues to wipe away his tears, and once he cleaned his face, he took a deep breath and began to speak.

"I guess I've been writing down unpleasant memories.", he started.

"About...?"

He paused. I knew he didn't want to tell me, but I kept reassuring him that he was alright, and that he could tell me anything.

"My past life in Raven Brooks. It wasn't very pleasant.", he said.

"Just start from the beginning, Nicky."

"Okay.", he started. "Back in Raven Brooks, I started hanging out with this group of friends. Trinity, Enzo, Maritza, and Ivan. I guess I started hanging out with them after one of their closest friends died in an accident."

"I see.", I said, "Was their friend's name Lucy Yi by any chance?"

Nicholas looked up at me in surprise. "Actually yes, it was."

He continued. "Yes, from what they've told me, Lucy died after a crash on a rollercoaster. Rotten Core I think. At this former fun place named-"

"Golden Apple Amusement Park...", we said in unison.

"...Yes. And from what I can remember, this Einstein level genius engineer built the rollercoaster. But I think he must've made a mistake on it, otherwise the crash wouldn't have happened."

"No, it wouldn't have. But may I ask who this "Einstein level genius engineer" is?"

"His name was Theodore Peterson.", he said. "A while before the accident, him and his family moved to the neighborhood, and they were right across the street from me. When I first met them, Mr. Peterson seemed really weird and antisocial, so I kept my distance from him. His wife, Diane, was very kind and sweet. His children, Aaron and Mya were really cool kids. Especially Aaron."

My eyes widened.

"My first interaction with Aaron was when I was peeking at him through my window, and he held up a paper and flashlight at me saying "Don't you know it's not polite to stare?", the next day, he and I met up with each other and started taking apart a toy car. The most exciting thing I found out about him was that he had a talent for picking locks, he was way better than me in fact. And just like that, we were best friends."

He smiled at that thought, and this time, it was a genuinely happy smile.

"As our friendship grew, we'd make plans for setting up pranks around town. We'd put spoons full of dog poop in people's mailboxes, we'd make dolls at the toy store have creepier voices. And the best part about all of them was that we never got caught.", his smile dropped and his voice became barely audible. "At least not until one day."

He crossed his arms and started looking at his feet as he kicked them. "We recently discovered this type of food that makes you fart a whole lot, and it became our newest idea for our latest prank. This lady was giving a speech, and as she tried to talk, all that came out of the speakers were a bunch of farts."

"You must've gotten in a world of trouble with your parents, didn't you?"

"Yes. We didn't know that there were cameras or an alarm button for emergencies. After that, I was grounded for a month, and I had no clue what happened to Aaron. I tried contacting him with the whole paper on the window thing, but he didn't answer. Until 3 weeks later, he told me to meet him at his house, and I did. But instead of running into Aaron, I ran into Mya, his little sister. She gave me a newspaper, and I was shocked to see the headline. Turns out their mother died in a car crash a while back."

My eyes widened at that, "That's terrible, Nicholas. But what about Aaron?"

"When I tried talking to Aaron, I ran into his father. He was in the bathroom, and he kept screaming into the mirror and pulling at his hair. Then I tried telling Aaron about it, but he just said that he seemed perfectly fine to him. I knew that was a lie, because even he was trying to ignore the fact that he lost his mother and his father had gone completely insane. Then his dad walked in, and told me I needed to go home. As I left, Aaron told me to never come back.", he paused for a moment.

I knew how Nicky felt, he was only concerned for his friend, and he was just told to leave and never come back.

"I tried distracting myself from Aaron, I tried everything to take my mind off of him. Hanging out with my other friends, trying to build new things, even waiting at our old hangout to see if he changed his mind about everything. But he never showed up. Then one day, I was just playing outside, when I heard screaming coming from across the street at Mr. Peterson's house. That scream sounded suspiciously like Aaron, I went to check up on him, but Mr. Peterson just told me to leave. I did, I didn't dare argue with him, he was weird and antisocial, but he was also extremely intimidating. Once again, I tried keeping my distance, but something in the back of my head kept nagging me. Why was Aaron screaming? Why was Mr. Peterson acting so strange? Why would he lock and board up his basement door?"

"Hmm...", I scratched my chin. "Have you tried telling anyone about this?"

"I have, millions of times. But everyone just said I was crazy, overreacting, and overthinking it all. They tried convincing me that no one would be the same if they lost someone they loved so much. Of course I knew that, but I also knew that no one would believe me without any evidence. So I decided I needed to go in and get some."

"And let me guess, you broke into his house?"

He opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a stutter. Finally, he got his voice back. "Well, kind of. And every time I snuck in, he always changed things. He boarded up all of the best ways in I've made, and locked all of the best hiding places. But I was always getting past those. And whenever I got caught, I just ran, and his sprint was just as fast as mine, and of course it was. He may have been old, but I knew he did a lot of exercise. And the weirdest thing I found out was that whenever I got out of his house, he never chased me past his property line. Sure it was weird, but it put me at an advantage. Because I kept sneaking in. I was even able to find evidence, cold hard evidence. But still, no one believed me. And I didn't know why! All of the evidence I found was perfect! But it still wasn't enough. Everyone kept calling me weird, a trespasser, and said I needed help. Please, if anyone needed help, it was Mr. Peterson."

"Have you ever gotten close to the basement?"

"Well, I have, but he did something I so did not expect. I was one step closer to finding out what he was hiding, and like always, when he found me, he chased me. But this time, I had a key, the key to the basement. But there was one problem. This time, there were 3 locks on the door. Which was weird, because last time I checked, there was only 1. Next thing I knew, I was cornered, and as soon as he caught up to me, he knocked me out."

"Oh dear.", I gasped. "Did he take you back home to your parents?"

He looked down, his eyes pooling with tears. "No.", he said. "My parents were out of town for a business trip at that time. When I woke up, I found myself in a bedroom with only a bed. Luckily, the door was unlocked and I managed to find a way out, but he caught me and put me back in that room. He told me he was actually happy to see me, because Aaron was getting lonely and he wasn't always going to be around to keep him company, so he kidnapped me because Aaron needed a friend. But I didn't want to stay there, I wanted to go home. But I had to make sure Aaron was okay. And once we were in the same room together, he broke down in tears and told me everything. How badly he treated his sister after Diane's death, and how Mya fell off the roof after he pushed her a little too hard, how his dad locked him in the basement to keep him "safe", and how he made up this lie about them going missing as to not be suspicious. And for the past 2 months, I've been trying to find a way to get us both out of there."

"2 months? You've been in Mr. Peterson's basement for 2 whole months? I'm sure someone was bound to notice sooner or later. Believe me, Nicky, if I had any children, I would've known if they had been missing."

"Yes, Dr. Thing. But sometimes, I felt claustrophobic in that house. Every time I tried to escape, he'd catch me and throw me back in the basement. He kept changing the locks so it'd be harder for me and Aaron to escape. I couldn't fight him, because he was bigger than me, and he could hurt me really easily. He even broke my arm once, and once, I stepped in a freaking bear trap and my scream alerted him.", he said, his voice becoming louder, and tears pouring down his eyes.

That must've been terrible for Nicky. Having to go through so much trouble to save his dearest friends, and nearly dying so many times trying to get out. Thank goodness he survived.

"I managed to escape, but Aaron stayed at that house, saying he didn't want to risk his dad finding him and just making escaping worse. No matter how many times I insisted, begged, and pleaded for him to come with me, he refused. So I escaped all alone.", he said. "I found out I was missing for 2 months when my parents first laid eyes on me, and told me they set up so many missing posters. They kept trying to find out where I've been, but I knew that if I told them, they wouldn't believe me. No one would."

"Is that where the nightmares started?"

Nicky couldn't hold it in anymore, he started sobbing and he hugged himself so tight that I was sure he was going to suffocate. "Yes! I kept having nightmares of stupid Mr. Peterson, and stupid flashbacks still plagued my mind. And just what I needed, more reasons for people to think I was crazy! I kept getting bullied and picked on for something I couldn't control, no one wanted to get close to me, no one wanted to talk to me. I distanced myself from my friends, because I knew they especially wouldn't believe me if I told them. So that's when my parents decided it would be the best decision to move."

He was calmer now, but the tears still kept pouring. I walked over to him and gave him a big hug, letting him cry into my shoulder.

"Nicholas, if I may ask, if you feel as if no one will listen to you, why do you talk to me about these kinds of things?"

He sniffed. "Because you're the only person I've met who actually listened to me. You kept your word, you didn't judge me, and you're the only one who doesn't think I'm crazy."

I smiled at that. "Nicholas, I'm a psychiatrist, it's my job to deal with crazy people. And I think it's best that you only talk to me about these things, since I'm the only one who will listen."

He pulled away from me, "So you're saying I still can't tell anyone?"

"Yes, Nicholas. What's the point in talking if no one will listen? If no one will believe? People in Raven Brooks are shallow, and people might still be shallow here. It's best to just stay quiet, and keep calm. Whatever happens here, will stay here until the day we both die."

Then we heard a knock on the door.

"Hello? It's me, Nicky's mother. I'm here to pick him up."

"Of course, Mrs. Roth!", I opened the door and told her to just give us a few more minutes. She obliged, I shut the door and Nicky spoke up.

"Dr. Thing, if I may ask, how did you know half of the story already?"

I paused. "I've actually been to Raven Brooks before for a vacation."

He nodded, and was about to leave when I put my hand on his shoulder.

"And remember, Nicky. Whatever happens here, stays here until the day we both die."

He nodded and left. Meanwhile, I decided to plan another trip to Raven Brooks.

I already spoke about the general concept, so there will be some small headcanons:

Has a very good memory for faces and names

Likes yellow apples: eat them, cut them, picture of them

“Faust” by Goethe his favorite book

Has a switchblade

A pathological liar

[nana1000night]

A little request for future(write whenever you want)

Reader gives this to Bucky and asks her to wear it as a dare while the avengers gang is gathered for weekly gathering

Ps-Reader and Bucky are already in an established relationship in this and everyone is alive and healthy and happy…

Love you Nana💖

Have a🍆

a/n: @elle14-blog1 I... changed a little and I’m sorry if I don’t write the whole of them... just wish you could like this. 

And Happy Moon Festival!!

"Doll, please...it's too ridiculous. I..."

"No, Buck. A dare is a dare. You know why human have hands?"

"...To pet Alpine and hug you, giving you the pleasures that no one could give it to you."

"What...!? Buck!!"

He huffed while wear a cap with the sign said 'I HAVE A.D.D. A DILICIOUS DICK'

"Poor puppy, I'll make up to you when we back, alright? I gave you the chance but you still lose the paper, scissors, stone. The goddess made her decision, Buck."

He chewed his lips, then his sights on the box which on the corner

"So that means..." His hands ghost around your waist under the shirt, rubbing circle on your belly. Bucky smirk when your body jolted.

"You'll wear the sweater and let me taste your sweet pussy, right honeybee."

He put your earlobe between his lips and sucked it gently. Your body trembling from this seductive invitation.

"And don't worry, I bought the seven colors for them, you could wear them this whole week."

When Tony see the cap on Bucky's head. He just lifted up his glasses

"Wow, are you lost a dare to wear this...wow."

"Tony." Steve gives him a warn stare and holds his smile before Bucky blows up

"Yeah, whatever you say. Just laugh.”

“Don’t be so grumpy to me, it’s not me who made you wear this.”

Bucky growled at Tony, you give each of them a paper bag

“Tomorrow is The Moon Festival, so I bring you a  box of mooncakes.”

“You made them yourself?”

“Yes, and I put a small surprise for you, Bucky.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows, he looked more confused when he opened the bag and the iron box.

There’s a photo on the top; Two wolves' pups with a line

—Happy Moon Festival, Papa wolf :D

Bucky snapped his eyes back to you then down your belly. His hands was shaking

“Are, are you...?”

You smiled at him and nodded

"How long?”

“14 weeks.”

The rest of the members stain silence, then everyone looked at you two

“Wait, YOU ARE PREGENT !?"

"Oh shit that’s so awful...and great! Jarvis, find some music is good to the baby. And we are all banned for alcohol FROM NOW ONNNNNNNN!!”

“Yes sir.”

Wanda and Natasha came to your sides, and they all stared at your belly.

“Did you feel any um...I don’t know, uncomfortable?”

“OMG, and it’s twins. I could hear that.”

Bucky perked his ears and murmured

“Twins? I have twin daughters?”

“Nah, it’s too early to say they are daughters, Buck.”

You pat his shoulder; he caught your hands and kissed the wedding band on your finger

Your other hand stroked his hair softly, the hand which was caught guided him to touch your tummy.

“When the next Spring comes, maybe our babies could have the same born month as their father.”

“We’re going to have a new family, Bucky.”

Thor and Loki came to you and their faces are serious

“Can we teach your daughters to become Valkyrja, Sister y/n?”

“Or I could teach them how to use the magic, it’s from Queen Frigga herself.”

Bucky answered before you could say anything, he gritted his teeth to the two gods

“Don’t you dare to think about that.”

[imerdwarf]

Sworn To Secrecy

Requested by @imagine-all-the-fandoms: Hey colleague ❤️ I really love your writing! So I also thought to send you an idea 😊 The reader is Bucky’s girlfriend but just a normal civilian and he keeps it a secret at the compound. One day she visits him but crosses the other Avengers and Sam is immediately flirting with you but Bucky just comes, swoops you in his arms and kisses you. The others are shocked and confused and later that day they finally tell them they’ve been together for a while now and they are all happy for you two? 😊

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Civilian!Reader (Modern AU)

Warnings: Absolutely none! Just a lot of fluff 🥰

Author's Notes: Thank you so much my dear friend for sending in this beautiful request, I hope you like it and please let me know if there's anything you want me to change! 💜

Your phone vibrated in the palm of your hand and your smile reached both corners of your eyes when you saw the name light up your screen.

Bucky: I can't wait to see you, how long until you get here?

Your fingers flew quickly over the touch sensitive keyboard to reply back, without any typos might I add.

Y/N: I'm five minutes away. Patience! ;)

The wind blew in your face as you tilted your head upwards and sighed. Your relationship with Bucky Barnes was absolutely not the easiest thing in the world. He had made you sworn to secrecy about it, to protect yourself and him from potential haters and enemies.

You were grateful that you were able to spend a lot of time together when he didn't have month-long missions to go on. The sunny afternoons were spent in your small apartment on the couch watching movies with a blanket draped over the two of you, often accompanied by a hot chocolate made from his secret recipe.

Everything about Bucky screamed safety; his big beefy frame, bulging biceps that he just knew you loved and deliberately bought small sizes to show them off, his thick thighs were a dream for you whenever you draped your legs over them to get comfortable. Nothing about him scared you, not even that matte black and gold Wakandan inspired arm of his. It did wonders when you were burning up with fevers.

You met Bucky by chance at a coffee shop in Brooklyn. It was a cliché moment when you accidentally turned around too quickly and spilled your hot drink over his white shirt. Endless apologies spilled from your lips while Bucky was too busy admiring your beautiful features that your words simply fell on deaf ears. To Bucky, it felt as though time had temporarily stopped ticking, and the only people in the coffee shop at that moment was you and him.

The two of you exchanged numbers with your promises of buying him a brand new shirt to replace the one you ruined. You texted each other every second of every day. The more you talked, the easier and the flirty-er the texts became.

A month after the coffee shop incident, you almost keeled over when he finally asked you to be his girlfriend. He regretted he couldn't take you on a date because of his status, and that never really bothered you.

You didn't date him because he was a popular avenger, with a staggering 100 million followers on his Instagram. For your protection, he couldn't follow you either, but that too didn't bother you. You dated him because you loved his personality and you loved him.

You zig-zagged past the oncoming pedestrians as the tower came into view. Outside of the gates there was already a crowd of people hoping to catch a glimpse of the avengers.

The security guard in the booth next to the gate was trying to reason with the crowd, sadly a building this well known attracted all kinds of attention and tourism. You were told that people from Australia would come to visit.

You approached the guard with a friendly smile. "Good afternoon sir," you greeted politely, pulling some I.D out from your purse.

"Good afternoon! Are you expected here today?" The guard smiled but looked over your shoulder to see the crowd was now taking pictures of the front of the tower. He shooed them away and brought his attention back to you.

"Yes, Sergeant James Barnes is expecting me." The way his name rolled off your tongue was like drops of honey. Smooth and sweet.

The guard checked the list of visitors expected today and hummed with a smile.

"So he is. So what you do is, go to the front desk with your visitor badge and they'll direct you to his floor."

With a quiet thanks and holding on tightly to the badge, you walk through the screeching iron gates. Your shoes crunch underneath the gravel and the wind howls through the trees that gives off extra privacy.

The lady at reception greets you warmly and you relax when you give her your name and show her your visitor badge as directed by the security guard.

"Take the elevator and go to floor 13. Sergeant Barnes is currently in a meeting but he won't be too long." Another thank you passes through your lips as you head off towards the glass and chrome elevator.

The ride up to the 13 floors was agonisingly slow. Classical music filled the emptiness of the elevator. The glass casing gave you a beautiful view overlooking the grounds of the compound. A rose garden of all different shades of roses up the far left of the green garden surrounded by cherry blossoms and hydrangeas. Benches scattered across the grounds that you hoped to one day have the pleasure of sitting on and watch the bumblebees.

This was another reason Bucky loved you so much, you were so passionate and kind against wildlife and nature.

Finally, after god knows how long you've been staring out into the garden daydreaming, the elevator doors ding open and you're greeted with a muscular blond God with a red Cape hung over his back and a creepy wide grin on his face. His scruffy hair made you think he hadn't washed it in a few days.

"I was expecting someone else, but hello!" His voice seemed to boom throughout the space of whatever room this actually was. Some kind of hallway, but you're pretty sure you would hear his voice from all the way from that beautiful garden.

"Uh hello!" You stuttered, taken by surprise that there would be other people here.

"I am Thor, the God of Thunder!" His arms went wide and so did his smile. Your mouth gaped open and closed when you recognised the name. Thor. God of thunder. Of course, you read about these gods and how he ruled Asgard. Or was set to.

"Thor! Of course," you chuckled nervously, stretching your hand out in front of you, "I'm Y/N."

"It's a pleasure to meet you! Please follow me and allow me to introduce you to my mortal friends," you chuckled at that line, and adjusted your sweater.

"Friends, mortals! We have a guest, this is Y/N, A human of Earth." Thor stepped aside and your eyes widened; you were only standing in the same room as the avengers, the same people Bucky spoke so highly of. Thor told you the names of the people in front of you, everyone was there and you wondered where the hell Bucky was.

Tony was the first one to step forward and looked you up and down by moving his tinted glasses to the bridge of his nose. You relaxed when he smiled, but only slightly. You realised they had not asked why some stranger was standing in their living room.

"You know who I am?" Tony asked smugly, his arms folded over his chest.

You nodded, your eyes flickered down his chest, his arc reactor lit up in a bright blue. You almost reached out to touch it but stopped yourself before you could.

"Uh yes. You're Tony I believe?" You blushed under their gazes. Bucky told you they were the best people, but to you they were very intimidating.

"Very good. What brings you to my tower?"

"I'm here to see—"

"Wow! Who is this?" A voice yelled out from behind you. A guy you recognised as Sam, or Falcon, or Birdbrain as Bucky liked to call him.

"Y/N!" Thor answered before you could, the rest of the avengers took a seat on the couch.

"Yeah, hi," a small laugh came out and it made your cheeks heat up when his eyes raked over your form.

"My, my. You are gorgeous!" He kept that grin on his lips as he stepped closer. His over-sprayed cologne was suffocating you. "Beautiful, just perfect, just—"

"Mine!" Bucky yelled from the doorway as he stormed past Sam to get to you. You bit your lip to hide the growing grin and failed, he swooped you up in his arms, your legs instantly wrapped around his waist as he spun the two of you around and kissed you.

Cat calls sounded from the couch and you smiled into the kiss. When you pulled away for air, the expressions on everyone's faces told you they needed and wanted an explanation.

You could only imagine the questions they wanted to ask; how did you know Bucky Barnes? How did a soldier and an assassin manage to keep a relationship so hidden under the eyes of a mind-reader and a super intelligent spy? How did Bucky not slip up to Steve about having a girlfriend? All valid questions of course.

Bucky lowered you back down on your feet and pressed his forehead against yours. Without giving the team an answer, he slipped his hand in yours and pulled you away, leaving the superheroes with confusion etched upon their faces.

Bucky gave you a thorough tour of the tower. He showed you the gym, the kitchen where he made you his favourite sandwich, he even showed you his room. It was painted in a light blue with white curtains and blinds, thick, soft cream carpet covered the floor and his bed was as soft as a cloud. It was a lot more comfortable than your bed, that's for sure.

Later that day, Tony ordered a takeout and invited everyone to the dining room to eat, including you. The way Bucky's hand was slung protectively around your shoulder didn't go amiss by anyone in the room. It was when he finally sat down did the questions start.

"Alright, what's the deal with you two? Is this a prank? Is he paying you darling?" Sam fired off first, pointing his fork at the two of you opposite him.

Bucky glared at him from calling you 'darling', from where you were sat you could hear the heavy breathing. Your hand slipped into your lap and into his, giving his thigh a firm squeeze to keep calm.

"Y/N is not being paid!" Bucky defended, outraged he could even think such a thing.

You cleared your throat and took a sip of water before speaking, "it's true and I understand it's a shock but Bucky is actually my boyfriend and has been for the past couple of months," you smiled, proud of the fact you were in a relationship with this man and it was no longer secret.

"How the hell did that happen?" Tony queried, waving his chopsticks in the air, flabbergasted by the whole situation.

"What, you think I'm not capable of meeting people?" Bucky challenged, not really enjoying the interrogation which was the whole reason he didn't want to say anything at the beginning.

"Well of course I wouldn't be surprised if it was Capsicle here but it's you," Tony snorted.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Bucky was yelling and turning red with anger when Nat sought the opportunity to take the heat off the two men.

"So, Y/N. Tell us about yourself."

Tags: @smokeybluebrooke-lyn @pinkdiamond1016

[nugnthopkns]

i’ll wait and i’ll listen

word count: 2.1k

warnings: mentions of deafness/hearing loss, cursing, i think that’s it

recommended listening: new song | maggie rogers & del water gap

a/n: hi! first and foremost, i want to say that this is based off my own personal experiences with a deaf father, and it is in no way a reflection of how other people or families with hearing issues operate. this is just how we live and how my dad goes about life. with that out of the way, enjoy some soft nolan content i threw together in 45 minutes. pretty sure i made this gender neutral, but please point out any mistakes!

There’s no legitimate reason for you to be so apprehensive about Nolan meeting your parents.

He’s a great person who is all you could ever ask for in a partner. The two of you get along like peas in a pod, and honestly most of the time your relationship feels like two friends hanging out. Of course there’s a bit more romance involved – but being with Nolan is so easy you barely have to think about it. 

Your parents aren’t the issue either. They’re both incredibly supportive of your relationship, and anything else you do. If it weren’t for them, you never would have left home – they’re the ones who packed the car and drove you all the way to Philadelphia. You never would have met Nolan if they hadn’t practically forced you out of the house and into the world. 

Truthfully, both parties would probably get along great. Your mother is kind and welcoming, and your father has interests similar to Nolan’s. Your younger siblings adore him – they came to visit one weekend and you took them to an afternoon game at Wells Fargo Centre, and afterwards the four of you went out for burgers. Since then they talk to him regularly, and have been begging for you to return home with Nolan. You can tell your parents are getting antsy too – after all, you’ve been with Nolan for nearly two years. 

Yes, Nolan has a busy schedule that doesn’t allow for much travel, but there have been plenty of opportunities over the years for everyone to get together. You’re the one who always comes up with a reason for him not to meet your parents. One time you were ‘sick’, another you were too busy with work to make the trip home. It isn’t that you’re worried they won’t approve or that Nolan will resent them. You’re apprehensive about bringing Nolan around because you’re worried there will be a communication barrier. 

Your dad is deaf, and Nolan doesn’t exactly enunciate his words well. His voice is also exceptionally deep, which doesn’t help much. It isn’t a secret, your father’s hearing issues, and you’ve spoken to Nolan about them numerous times. Most of the time it’s you fretting about it getting worse and he listens intently while you sob into his chest. Since the hearing loss came from years of working around loud machines, it was gradual, which was frustrating for him. You were in high school when he got hearing aides, but eventually they lost their desired effect. Now your dad relies on reading lips and other non-aural markers like hand gestures to fill in the gaps. 

“Babe, I have to meet them at some point,” Nolan says through a mouthful of pasta. “Especially since I plan on sticking around.”

Your mom had called earlier in the afternoon to ask when you were coming home next. The upcoming weekend is free in your schedule, and when you told her she insisted you bring Nolan. He’s out for the season with the migraine related issues so you couldn’t exactly lie and say he was going to be out of town. Instead, you fed her some bullshit excuse and said you’d check to see if he could move some stuff around. 

“I know,” you sigh. “I just don’t want you or my dad getting frustrated if talking doesn’t go smoothly.”

Nolan pushes his chair back from the table and walks to stand behind you. He rubs your shoulders soothingly and leans down to whisper in your ear. “There are a million and ten other ways I can communicate with him Sweetheart. Don’t worry about it.”

Deep down, you know he’s right. There’s no reason the two of them can’t communicate, even if they can’t do it verbally. After discussing it more and ironing out all your doubts, you call your mom back to let her know both you and Nolan will be coming. A small weight lifts from your chest, knowing that you’ll get the first meeting over with, but dread slowly creeps in. There are so many ways it could go wrong. 

☼☼☼☼

You and Nolan stand on the doorstep of your childhood home hand in hand. As if he can sense how nervous you are, Nolan squeezes gently, reminding you of his unwavering presence. 

“Whatever happens isn’t going to change the fact that I love you,” he says, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. 

To steady yourself from the negative thought swirling in your brain you lean closer to Nolan. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and uses his free hand to knock on the door. Less than two seconds your sister is bounding towards the door and flinging it open. 

“Mom! Y/N and Nolan are here!”

She steps to the side and lets the pair of you in. You shrug off your jacket and hang it on the rack behind the door – Nolan copies. As soon as you’re inside the entryway your mother is wrapping you in a massive hug. 

“I’m so glad you’re home darling,” she says, arms tight around you. “Was the drive okay?”

You go to answer her question but her attention is turned to your very tall boyfriend who is standing beside you like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“You must be Nolan. It’s so nice we could finally meet. Y/N has told me a lot about you.”

Nolan clears his throat before speaking, his deep voice echoing slightly off the ceiling. “All good things I hope,” he laughs, looking to you for reassurance. 

Nodding your head, you join in his laughter. You travel farther into the house, giving your brother a fistbump when you pass him in the hall. When you moved out your parents converted your room into a sophisticated guest bedroom, so there aren’t any embarrassing posters from your teenage years on the walls for Nolan to make fun of. You quickly unpack your suitcase, wanting to get back downstairs and spend time with your family. It’s been a while since you’ve been home, and you missed them more than you thought. 

“Is your dad here?” Nolan asks, hanging the couple of sweaters you guys brought up in the closet. 

You glance at the clock on the wall, you shake your head. “He’ll be home from work just before dinner.” 

The two of you head downstairs to chill with your siblings, but not without sharing a few kisses that make your spine tingle. At your brother’s insistence the four of you head to the basement to partake in an air hockey tournament. Though Nolan can hold his own in the NHL, he’s rather miserable at this iteration of the game. Your sister eliminates him in under five minutes, and after a hard fought battle you defeat your brother. 

Nolan tries to coach you before the gold medal game but you laugh him off. “Nol, you were terrible. I think I can hold my own.”

He breathes out harshly through his nose, but you know he isn’t upset with your teasing. “Fine,” he mumbles, “See if you can win without my all-star advice.”

Your sister manages to win in a shootout. It was a close game, and you challenge her to a rematch after dinner. She accepts, insisting you’ll lose again. Nolan bets he can race her around the property, so you move outside. Your mom lets you know dinner will be ready soon, and you throw her a thumbs up. 

Though your sister is a fast runner, she’s got nothing on Nolan’s six foot frame. He passes her with ease, cheekily throwing her the finger as he rushes by. You’re the finish line and instead of stopping when he reaches you, Nolan throws you over his shoulder and continues running through the yard. 

Your laugh rings out as you kick your feet. “Put me down!” you shriek. When he makes no attempt to prove he listened to your cries, you try again. “Nol, come on, put me down. If you fall it’ll be really bad.”

Knowing you’re right, Nolan stops moving and gingerly places you on the ground. His hands move to cup your face and he plants a warm kiss on your lips. You refuse to let it get too far, but you lean into him slightly and sigh when he pulls away. 

In the distance you hear your mom calling for dinner. “Kids, it’s time to eat,” she says. “Your father just got home.”

Your heart beat rises exponentially, and your steps drag slightly as you get closer to the door. Nolan notices, but doesn’t say anything. Instead he flashes you a smile that’s reserved just for you and makes your heart melt. 

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll make sure I don’t mumble.”

In the dining room, you guide Nolan to sit beside your dad. You figure it’s the spot where he has the best chance of hearing your boyfriend, and no one seems to protest. They give each other a polite nod while the rest of you rush to place everything on the table and serve the food. 

Once everyone is sitting, Nolan takes the initiative to introduce himself. “It’s nice to meet you Sir,” he says a bit slower than his normal speaking voice, making sure to clearly enunciate his words. 

There’s no response from your father, and you suck in a breath. You watched him focus on Nolan’s lips while he spoke, but you fear he still couldn’t quite understand what your boyfriend said. It takes a few more beats for him to process what was spoken, but then your dad is cracking a smile and holding his hand out for Nolan to shake. 

“Glad Y/N isn’t hiding you from us anymore. I thought the first time I’d meet you was at the engagement party.” His voice is a few decibels louder than everyone else’s, due to not being able to hear himself, but Nolan doesn’t seem to mind. 

They slip into an easy conversation about work and hunting, asking each other a million questions. There’s barely room for any one else to contribute but the rest of you don’t mind – it’s been a long time since your dad has been able to go this long without asking someone for assistance. Of course there’s a few bumps in the road – Nolan not speaking clearly or looking elsewhere while telling a story, but that was to be expected. You step in when needed, repeating phrases and recreating scenes with hand actions. Overall, the meal goes swimmingly, and the two men leave the table eagerly to swap stories. 

You spend the time catching up with your mother, and she gushes over how Nolan is handling everything. “He’s doing so well,” she exclaims. “He’s so patient with your dad, waiting to make he understood what was said before continuing, and he doesn’t have an issue repeating himself a few times. You really lucked out Y/N.”

“I know,” you say honestly. “He’s simply the best.”

It’s a few hours later that Nolan finds his way back to you. You arch your brow, wondering what he got up to, and he explains that your dad took him for a walk in the forest to show him the deer he’d been tracking the past couple of weeks. It’s heartwarming that they get along so well, and you feel a little silly for fretting over what would happen. 

☼☼☼☼

“Your dad is nice,” Nolan shrugs as you crawl into bed beside him. “I could hardly tell he was deaf most of the time.”

You tuck yourself into his side and hum. “He does a great job of not letting it define him,” you agree. “But thank you for being so patient with him.”

A small peck is placed to your shoulder blade and you sigh at the contact of Nolan’s lips on your skin. “He did grumble about how my voice is too deep,” he laughs. “Said he could barely hear me. Once I knew that I made sure to speak clearly and let him read my lips.”

You’re speechless. None of your friends or past romantic partners had made that much of an effort to treat your dad like he was a person. They got short with him for needing them to slow down or repeat themselves, and often would refuse to see him again. It’s part of the reason you were so hesitant to introduce Nolan – you wanted to protect him from another person who might treat him differently because he can’t hear.

“I really fucking love you,” you whisper into the darkness. 

You can practically hear the grin in Nolan’s voice as he speaks. “I really fucking love you too.”

The rest of your stay will go just fine, you think as you drift to sleep. There was nothing to worry about, and you can’t wait to watch a friendship blossom between your dad and boyfriend. 

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales @kiedhara @tortito @boqvistsbabe​ if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

[johnsamericano]

“Corruption. Epilogue.” w.y.h

A/n: I APOLOGIZE FOR THE DELAY. I hope you'll still enjoy it, thank you for reading.

warnings: unprotected sex, dirty talking, corruption kink per usual, lingerie, that’s it.

corruption m.list.

“Mommy, where’s Mr. bear?” You closed the zipper of your suitcase, placing it on the floor and extending your hand towards your baby boy.

“Daddy already put it in the car, let’s go, he must be waiting for us.”

Your husband was leaning against the car, a pair of sunglasses hanging from the neck of his sweater. You gave it to him a few days ago, it matched with the one you and your son were wearing.

“Youngho, guess who’s coming with us?”

“Mr. bear?” He tilted his head to the side.

“Better.” He opened the door of the car, revealing your best friend, a big smile on his face.

“Uncle lele!” His little legs ran towards the vehicle, Chenle taking him into a bear hug as soon as he was close enough.

“Let me help you with this.” Your husband approached you, taking the suitcase from your hands to load it into the trunk. “I’m kinda nervous, I feel like your parents still don’t like me.”

“My mom likes you.” You giggled, hugging his waist tightly. “My dad still thinks you’re the teacher who seduced his little girl. And I mean, you kinda did.”

“But we’ve been married for more than two years, he should’ve warmed up to me at this point.” He whined desperately.

“Well, I mean, he appreciates you more ever since Youngho came around.”

“Are you suggesting that we need another baby for your father to like me? Cause I’m in.”

“Am I going to have a little sister?” Youngho’s small head peeked through the door as well as Chenle’s.

“Congrats you guys.”

“No! We’re not having another kid, I haven’t recovered from the last one.”

“But I want a daughter.” Lucas complained. “Imagine how cute Youngho would look as a big brother.”

“I’ll get you a female dog and that’s my final offer.”

“Declined. I’m sure I’ll convince you, my baby girl will be here in no time.” He said as you walked to your seats, closing the doors and putting your seatbelts on.

“There’s no guarantee that the baby will be a girl.” He started the engine, taking a look at the backseats to make sure Youngho was on his car seat.

“Even if it’s a boy, I’ll love him with all my heart. Just like I love that little monster in the back.”

“Aw, thanks dude.” Chenle answered.

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

The trip continued between constant bickering from your husband and Chenle along giggles from your son.

“Alright, we’re here.” Lucas parked the car, turning to look at you with a nervous smile.

“Don’t worry, as I said, at least my mom likes you.” After unbuckling your seatbelts, you both exited the vehicle, opening the backseat doors to wake up the passengers.

Lucas gently picked up Youngho from his seat while you flicked Chenle in the forehead to wake him up.

“What is wrong with you?” He whined.

“Hurry up or I’ll lock you inside.”

Lucas waited in front of the door for you and Chenle to arrive, he was too scared to knock on the door himself.

Your mother received you all with a warm hug, specially Chenle, whom she had known from the moment he was born.

“You’re so big, Chenle. Come in, I baked your favorite cookies.” You scoffed at your mother’s behavior as she dragged him to the kitchen.

“Let’s go, my arms are feeling numb.”

You entered first at Lucas’ request, the smell of your favorite dishes making you smile. Your father was chopping some vegetables while your mother stuffed Chenle’s mouth with food.

“My baby girl is home.” Your father smiled widely before running to you and taking you into a bone crushing hug. “You should move here, we miss you.” He kissed your temple.

“Hello sir.” Your husband saluted politely, bowing slightly while he held your son tightly.

“Hello Yukhei.”

“Why are you two so tense?” Your mother, as laid-back as ever, continued. “Give each other a hug, come on, give me the kid.” She took her grandson from Lucas’ arms. “Go on.”

They awkwardly wrapped their arms around each other, the sudden sound of a camera taking a picture causing them to separate.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” You giggled, looking at the picture in your phone. “This is going straight to our family album.”

“Y/n.” They both whined at the same time.

“Wait, am I in that family album?” Chenle asked, mouth full of cookies.

“Mayhaps.”

“Show me.”

“Make me.”

“Oh, you two, stop it. You seriously are like brother and sister.” Your mother spoke a bit too loud, causing your son to wake up. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his small hands.

“Daddy?” Lucas noticed and immediately took him back into his arms.

“I’m here, kiddo.”

“Can we get Mr. Bear?”

“Sure, let’s go.”

You all stayed silent as he walked out, your mother finally speaking as you heard the sound of the door closing.

“He’s a great father, y/n.” You smiled to yourself, heart full of pride. “And You should stop intimidating him.” She pointed at your father.

“I am not intimidating him. I’m just making sure my little girl is with the best man.”

“That’s sweet dad, but we’ve been together for a long time. Hell, we even have a kid.” You dad huffed.

“Fine, I’ll try to be nice.”

Meanwhile, Lucas was searching for the teddy bear in the trunk while Youngho sat on the edge of it, his short legs dangling.

“You Wanna know what I asked Santa for this year?”

“I know. An iron man suit, a pet dinosaur and a little sister.” Of course, you were only able to get one out of three, despite Lucas insisting you could get him a sister too.

“I secretly asked him for one more thing.” He signaled Lucas to come closer. “I asked him for mommy and you to be together forever.” Lucas couldn’t help but smile at his son, taking him into his arms once he found the stuffed animal.

“That’s a very sweet petition, I bet Santa will make it come true.” He left small pecks all over his face.

“Stop!” He demanded between giggles.

“Why? You don’t like my kisses?” He teased, leaving a big smooch on his cheek. “Too bad, I’ll give you as much kisses and hugs as I can before you become an unbearable teenager.”

“I don’t ever want you to stop hugging me.”

“Why are you guys leaving me out? I want hugs and kisses too.” You came out of your house, jogging towards the two loves of your life. Your son grabbed your cheeks with his tiny hands to peck your nose.

“Give her one too, daddy.” Lucas leaned down to press his lips against your forehead. “On the lips, daddy!” Your son’s sudden demand had you blushing like crazy.

Lucas smiled while grabbing your chin to connect your lips.

“Alright, let’s go back in before your grandma starts yelling at us for not helping with dinner.”

(...)

“Oh my god, Chenle is that you? You look like a cocky rich kid.” Lucas laughed hysterically as he looked at a picture of you two as kids.

Everyone was dressed in the Christmas onesies your mom bought, you and her had a thing for matching outfits. Lucas looked adorable in it, the rain deer patterns making him look even more child-like than usual. Chenle, on the other side, looked like an elf.

“I look amazing, shut up.” He replied when you made a comment on his looks.

“Hey Chenle, why didn’t you spend Christmas Eve with your parents?” Your father asked.

“They went to China to visit my grandparents, but I had too much work here to go with them.” He looked a little down, but his frown was quickly replaced with a bright smile as your son sat on his lap to hug him tightly.

“Don’t worry, uncle lele. We can be your family too.”

Your mom entered the living room with her hands full of sweet treats.

“What are we gonna watch?” It was a family tradition to watch a holiday themed movie on Christmas Eve.

“Elf?” Your father proposed and everyone agreed.

You sat on the large couch, Youngho sitting between you and Lucas as you cuddled him. Chenle sat on the floor while your parents on a small couch.

Right after the movie ended, everyone went to their respective rooms. Chenle and Youngho decided they wanted to have a slumber party, so you and Lucas had the room for yourselves.

“You look cute.” You smiled, lacing your fingers behind his neck as you tiptoed to kiss those addicting plump lips. He placed his hands below your thighs to lift you up, smiling against your lips.

“Have you seen yourself in the mirror? You are literally the definition of cute.”

“Am I now?”

“Yes you are.” He kept smiling, suddenly starting to dance with you between his arms. “I love you so much that the mere thought of being apart from you again makes me want to jump off a building.”

“That’s not gonna happen.” You finally asked the question you’d been keeping for yourself for a few days. “Are you okay, Xuxi? I mean, ever since you came back you haven’t seen your family and maybe you’re feeling bad, so please know that you can talk to me about anything.”

“But I am with my family.” He didn’t miss the family that rejected him after choosing to give up the company. “You, Youngho, Chenle and your parents are my family, even though your father still doesn’t completely approve of me.”

“Are you sure?” You placed your hands on his cheeks, still uneasy.

“Positive.”

He kept holding you in his arms for a while more, simply staring into your dreamy eyes.

“Well, it’s past midnight so technically it’s Christmas already.” You got down on your feet. “Do you want your present now?”

“What do you mean? Isn’t it under the tree?” He tilted his head, oblivious to the true meaning of your words.

Your hands hesitantly reached for the front zipper of your onesie, slowly opening it to reveal a white lacy lingerie set.

“I know it’s not my style but I thought you’d like it.” You rubbed your arm awkwardly, standing there while he eyed you. “What do you think?”

“That we are gonna have to be extremely quiet to not raise suspicions.” He helped you out of the comfortable outfit, slightly raising your arms to take a better look at you. “My lord, we’ve done this so many times and you still blush?” You looked away.

“Don’t mock me!”

“I love that about you.” He placed his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to his body. “You’re just as innocent as the first time I made you mine.”

“I am not.”

“Really?” He rubbed a finger over your clothed heat, causing you to gasp. “Your cheeks look like the red lights in the Christmas tree.”

“X-xuxi.” You held onto his arms as he continued to pleasure you. “I was supposed to make you feel good, not the other way around.”

“But I like to make you feel good.” He slipped a hand into your underwear. “Shaved? Wow this must be a really special occasion.” He enjoyed the soft texture of your lips, tracing random patterns over the warm skin. “Let’s lay you down, hm?” You nodded, letting him carry you to the king size mattress.

He started to strip in front of you. Once the only piece of clothing left on his body was his underwear, he crawled up the bed.

“I love you so much.” His fingers started caressing you inner thigh, slowly creeping up until one of them hooked around your underwear, pulling it down.

He placed his hands behind your back, raising your torso to un clasp your bra. He pulled away the slightest to admire your naked figure, his eyes stopping at the scar crossing your belly. A product of Youngho’s birth.

“Is it ugly?” You asked, suddenly feeling self conscious.

“Of course not, baby.” He kissed your cheek tenderly. “Every single part of you is beautiful.”

Before you even had the chance to be embarrassed, one of his fingers was already moving in and out of you. You shut your eyes tightly.

“I need to prepare you first, angel.” You were as sensitive as ever, his long finger reaching for all the right spots. “Look at me when I’m touching you.” His harsh tone only added to your arousal. “That’s a good girl.” He cooed as soon as your big doe eyes met his.

He retrieved his finger as soon as he felt your walls convulsing around it, earning a small whine from you. He chuckled while taking his underwear off, proceeding to sit against the headboard with you over his lap.

“Don’t look so scared, this isn’t the first time we’ve done it.” Lucas smiled at your expression, eyes glued to his inflamed erection.

“Yes, but it still hurts when...you know.” Even after all those years you had a hard time dirty talking, and Lucas found it adorable.

“I’ll make sure you’re well prepared so it doesn’t hurt.” He placed you right above his length, gripping your hips to move your body back and forward. “You make the prettiest noises I’ve ever heard.”

“Xuxi, I can’t hold it back for longer.” You whimpered, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“Of course you can, sweetheart. Because you’re a good girl, right?”

“Yes.” Your nails started digging crescent moons into his back, trying your best to contain your orgasm.

“Lift your hips for me, princess.” With wobbly legs, you did your best to keep your body up while he aligned himself with your entrance. “Hold onto my shoulders.”

You did as he said, slowly letting him sink into you.

“It hurts.” His heart ached with your words.

“I know baby, just hang in there.” He hugged you, feeling like the first time you had sex. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

It took a while for you to get used to the stretch since it had been a while since the last time you had sex, but the pleasant feeling of being full soon replaced the uncomfortable burning.

“I’m ready, Xuxi.” He helped you bounce up and down his length, soft groans escaping his plump lips.

They looked so tempting, you couldn’t help but kiss them. He grinned into the kiss.

“You’re so pretty.” You murmured, cheeks completely red.

“You’re pretty too.” He kissed your temple, thrusting up. “My pretty little girl.” You couldn’t keep moving up and down, so you allowed yourself to take a rest. “Such a good girl.”

“Xuxi.” You tried your best to hold back the moans forming at the back of your throat. “Can I...?”

“Let go, sweetheart. I’m here.” Your body shook uncontrollably as pleasure took over every inch of it. You bit Lucas’ shoulder to avoid screaming from the intensity of your high.

Lucas came with your walls deliciously clenching around him. Thick ribbons of white cum painting your core as you both tried to regulate your breathing.

“You did so well.” He pecked your sweaty forehead. “Now let’s clean our little mess.”

(...)

The next morning, your son bursted into your room, waking you both up while screaming ‘it’s Christmas.’

“Come on, I want to open my presents.” He jumped into the bed and tried to lift your body.

“Come here, Youngho. Let mommy rest for a little longer.” Lucas took him between his arms, tucking him inside the comforter. His hair was a mess, the strands pointing to opposite directions as he tried to open his swollen eyes.

“But the presents.” He whined.

You hugged the little boy from behind, pecking his silky hair.

“Come on, I’m not tired. Let’s go open your gifts.” He squeaked exitedly while getting on his feet.

The three of you walked to the living room holding hands. Your parents and Chenle patiently waited for you to arrive.

“This little monster woke me up at like 5:00 a.m.” Chenle scoffed, causing Youngho to giggle.

“Sorry, uncle lele.” He let go of your hands, running to the tree to find his gifts. “There’s one for mommy.” He handed you a big box with your name written on it. “And one for daddy.” He kept putting aside his own gifts and handing everyone else theirs.

Everyone ended up with at least three gifts, even Lucas, who didn’t expect to get anything from your parents.

“You go first, honey.” Your son started ripping the Christmas paper to uncover his gifts.

“An Ironman suit!” He gratefully received all of his gifts, even the hideous sweater his grandma knitted for him. “Thank you, nana!”

Your heart filled with pride for having raised such a beautiful child. After Youngho was done, you all opened your presents at the same time. You asked Lucas to save yours for the last.

“Oh my god, Xuxi.” You covered your mouth at your recently opened present.

“It’s okay if you don’t like it, I can get you something else later.”

“I love it!” You couldn’t help but cry.

“Won’t you show it to us?” Chenle asked, trying to take a look at the contents of your box.

You pulled out a cement board with both your husband’s and your son’s hand printed on it. There was also an album below it.

“There’s more?”

“Just open it.” Everyone gathered around you, even Youngho sat on your lap, curious to see what the album had inside.

It took you a while to figure out what was on the first pages of it.

“Are these my college exams?” He nodded. “How did you...?”

“I found them in a box with all my teacher stuff, now keep going.” You passed the pages with nostalgia, meeting with memories from your past.

The album was filled with photos and significant documents of your life together, from the ticket of the takeout You had on your first date to a picture of you holding Youngho for the first time.

“Wait, that’s me!” Youngho pointed at the small baby between your arms.

“Yes, that’s you, sweetie.” You kissed his cheek while he kept turning the pages of your album. “Thank you, Xuxi. I love it.” He smiled widely. “Now you open mine.” You turned to face him with your son still on your lap.

He pulled out a smaller box, containing a pair of wireless earbuds he’d been ranting about for the past few months.

“Oh my god!” He smiled widely, his big hand covering his mouth. “I love them, thank you.” He gave you a big hug.

“There’s more.” You winked at your mom while he looked for his other gift. “Don’t judge, my mom taught me how to do it through facetime.”

“A pair of socks?” He stared at them, his gaze going back and forth from Youngho to the yellow, knitted baby socks. “They’re adorable, sweetie, but I don’t think they’ll fit him.”

“We’ll, thank goodness they’re not for him.” It took a while for his brain to process the whole situation, but when he finally figured it out, he let out the loudest scream you’d ever heard.

“We’re having a baby!” Everyone in the room covered their ears, except for your little boy, who joined his screaming.

“Am I having the baby sister I asked for?”

“Yes you are!” He lifted Youngho, smiling ear to ear with him.

“It’s the best Christmas ever!”

It was, indeed, the best Christmas ever.

[the-sympathetic-villain]

L’Appel Du Vide - Chapter 1

AO3 | Next | Masterpost

Description: Logan has been captured by a government agency who researches human with supernatural powers. Able to manipulate the world with his mind and tell what others are thinking, Logan finds himself in one of the most high security government prisons in the country that's run by a sinister Dr. Emile Picani. After several long months of deprivation and torture at the hands of Dr Picani, a devilish-looking man with scales on his face will break into the prison looking for Logan's less than friendly bunkmate, but will he be too late? Prompt by @LoganIsACoolTeacher on AO3

Endgame pairings: Lociet, Intruality, Prinxiety

Word Count: 2401

Chapter warnings: Injuries, Captivity, Blood, Talking about a person as if they were an object, Swearing, Attempted strangling, Emotional manipulation, Drugged person, Blackmail, Solitary confinement, Knocked out by blunt object, Violence in self-defence, brief mention of a gun, Threats of starving someone for their cooperation, restraints, crying, Unsympathetic!Emile Picani 

---

    Tears burned at the corner of Logan’s eyes as he stumbled forward and hit the hard ground. The taste of iron filled his mouth as he sucked in a breath and spit the blood out of his mouth.

    Everything hurt.

    The cuts that covered his arms and legs were a burning reminder of the thick underbrush he’d crawled through in his attempt at escaping this nightmare fate. He turned his head to suck in a breath as the pain in his cracked ribs pulled a few choice swears from his lips.

    “Didn’t the doc say not to leave that thing alone?”

    “It ain’t alone. The skiddish one's there to keep it fed.”

    “Didn’t think that one was even still alive.”

    “Probably won't be for much longer if this thing’s half as dangerous as the doc said.” The man's voice paused as Logan turned his head and blinked up at the shadows over him. “Now, let’s go. The way this thing looks at me gives me the creeps.”

    Logan’s head dropped to the ground as his vision swam. His stomach clenched as flashes of the previous night played over again in his head. He curled his knees to his chest, groaning with a pitiful despair as his new reality started to settle in.

    It’s over.

    Everything’s over.

    Logan curled his hands up over his ears as a wet sob was pulled from his throat. The unnerving silence weighed heavily on his chest as he lifted his head to examine his injuries.

    Kill him first.

    The foreign thought jarred him upright, sending adrenaline flooding through his veins as he searched the room. He blinked furiously as he adjusted to burning bright, red warning lights. His glasses had been lost in the struggle that had landed him here and his blurred vision made his heart pound as he tried to locate the source of the voice in the seemingly empty room.

    Shit, shit, shi—

    “Whose there?” Logan called out as the voice continued. The silence was deafening as he scrambled to his feet, shaking as he took in the sterile, metallic walls of the room. A reflective, window of glass spread across the far wall, glinting eerily in the red light illuminating the room. Logan stilled, glancing warily at the two twin cots across the room obscuring his vision.

    “Come out, you cow—”

    A solid force struck Logan’s side, stopping his words in his tracks and sending him stumbling forward onto his chest. His attacker landed on his back straddling across him and pinning him to the ground. He barely had a moment to react before a thick piece of fabric was wrapped around his throat and pulled taut.

    Just hold still—

    The strange man's thoughts trailed off in Logan’s mind as his attention shifted to his own survival. His hands reached to his throat as he flailed, struggling for breath against the makeshift garrote closing around his throat.

    Panic flooded over him as he fought against his attacker’s iron grip. His eyes strained and bulged as he turned blue, just in time by for his true survival instinct to kick in. The air wavered for a moment as Logan felt his energy shift around them. The subtle change continued until the barrier finally gave way. In an instant, his attacker was blown back into the metal wall with a bone-shattering force.

    Logan’s breath caught in his throat as the world went silent. He lifted his head cautiously, pulling the thick strip of fabric from his neck. After a moment,  the shock subsided enough for him to rise to his feet and turn toward the sound of his assailant’s rapid breathing.

    The impact of the blowback from Logan’s psychic shockwave seemed to knock the breath from the man's lungs and his own pain seemed to hold his attention for the moment.

    The man’s unkempt, dark hair covering his eyes contrasted his stark white dress. Logan could see the man was abnormally thin underneath the hospital-like attire, yet it was apparent the muscles in his arms were well-defined, accounting for the strength and precise coordination of his attack.

    “Are you—”

    “—don't come—closer—”

    The man's voice rasped as his head lifted to reveal striking purple eyes. Logan froze in place at the man's glare, staring as the man seemed to flicker in and out of reality before his very eyes. He was disappearing, nearly invisible except where the red light hit him.

    He's like me. He has powers.

    The realization shook him to the core, nearly making him miss the sound of the heavy door opening behind him amidst the pounding of his own heart in his chest.

    “Now, boys. I would hope you knew to behave better than this.”

     Logan head spun on his shoulders at the chilling voice behind him. In the entrance stood a soft-looking young man blocking the exit. His brown sweater vest and fluffy, sandy blonde hair contrasted starkly with the sinister smile on his lips as he stepped into the room.

    An uneasy silence filled the air as a small, glassy-eyed man stumbled into the room behind him, shoved forward by the two guards blocking the door. The stranger's hands were bound In front of him and wore a similar hospital-like attire to his assailant.

    “Pat—”

    Logan startled as the man behind him jumped to his feet with a shout, stepping toward the pale man with glassy eyes swaying uneasily beside the guard.

    “Now, Virgil.” A dangerous glimmer flashed across the soft man's eyes, stopping all movement in the room. His smile widened in a sinister sweetness that turned Logan’s stomach. “I know you don’t think I'm about to reward you for attacking our new guest.”

    “What did you do to him?”

    The desperation in Virgil’s shrill pitch sent Logan shrinking back as the man lunged forward at the guard nearest the glassy-eyed man. Logan looked away, narrowly catching the beginning of the brutality of the guard. He heard a shuffle of movement that ended quickly as a sharp crack pulled a sickening shriek from the man with the dark hair.

    Logan lifted his head to see the man crumple to the ground, his arm hanging loose in its socket. He felt himself gag as the man moaned in pain, limp as the guard yanked him to his feet and spun him to face the man in the sweater vest.

   “I think you've earned yourself a few days in isolation for acting out, Virgil.”

    The piercing purple color of the man’s eyes seemed to dull as fear flashed in the man's eyes and his voice became unsteady. “Please, no—Doc, I'll behave—”

    “I can't have you attacking the others, Virgil.” The man's voice dripped with a venomous sweetness that sent chills down Logan’s spine. “I hate that you force my hand,, but my rules are for your own good.”

    “Please—” Virgil stuttered on his words as he pleaded with the doctor. “—don’t hurt him.”

    “You wound me, Virgil.”

    Logan watched as a sick smile spread across the doctor's voice as his hand reached around the dazed man's shoulder, pulling him closer. The simple touch elicited a visceral reaction from the man called Virgil as the doctor pulled his friend closer.

    “A mild sedative hardly constitutes harm to your friend. It merely makes him more compliant.”

    “You bast—”

    “Language, Virgil.” The doctor’s voice held a finality cut through the man's swears, leaving him shaking. “I assure you do not want to make this any worse for yourself.”

    The man deflated as his bravado melted away and his eyes fixated on the distant gaze of his friend. His gaze dropped submissively and he fell to his knees as the guard’s grip on him loosened.

    “That’s better.”

    A smirk tugged at the lips of the doctor as he tipped his head to the guard in a subtle nod. A fresh wave of horror filled Logan’s   chest as the guard pulled a pistol from its holster and brought it down on Virgil’s temple. He let out a whimper as the man's body went limp between the two men and quickly swept up over the guard's shoulder.

    The subtle sound seemed to draw the attention of the doctor.   His gaze turned from the guard toward Logan as if noticing him for the first time. The intensity of his stare left Logan’s knees weak as he started to edge back against the wall.

    “Oh, hello there.” The malice in the doctor’s voice disappeared as he addressed Logan. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced. What's your name?”

    “L-Logan—” Logan whispered, feeling shell-shocked by the doctor’s sudden change in demeanor.

    “Speak up now. I want to hear your lovely voice.”

     “Logan, s-sir.” Logan swallowed nervously, hating the way his voice cracked as the man smiled at him.

    “Sir's awful formal. We’re all friends here. Aren’t we?” The disbelief must have showed in Logan’s eyes, because the man’s sweetness seemed to turn to regret as Logan stared back at him. “I’m sorry you had to see all that, Logan. Virgil can be a bit headstrong at times and it is my job to ensure protocol is followed to ensure the safety of our subject. Assuming you can follow the rules better than your new bunkmate, we'll get along just fine. I assure you.”

    The doctor stepped forward and extended a hand to him, smiling as Logan cautiously accepted the unexpected gesture.

    “The name is Doctor Emile Picani, head of the government’s department of Preternatural Research and Otherworldly Universal Defense, or PROUD as others have come to know us." The doctor continued as he held his hands together across his chest. “As you are almost certainly aware, your stay here is permanent. Your friends and family will be notified but you will not be allowed to contact them.”

    Logan’s heart sunk in his chest. “You can’t—You can’t just keep me here forever.”

    “For your own sanity, I suggest that you accept that I can and will do whatever I need to ensure this program continues to run smoothly.” Doctor Picani hummed nonchalantly.  “You have been deemed a threat to natural society. Your body is a weapon that could be used to inflict immeasurable damage to the general population, and as such, any rights you claimed as a citizen of our great country have been stripped from you as a matter of national security.”

    Logan felt a lump in his throat aa his knees grew weak. He knew the rumors of PROUD but he'd always assumed there was a degree of exaggeration to the stories. The government couldn’t just treat people any way they liked.

    “On the bright side, you now have the opportunity to be on the front line of scientific advancement." Dr. Picani continued with and exaggerated excitement. “The data we gather from you and our other subjects has the potential to change society as we know it today.”

    Logan swallowed, crossing his arms across his chest as he took as step back. “What kind of data are you collecting?”

    “Nothing for you to be concerned about just yet.” Dr. Picani chuckled to himself and the empty sound echoed on the metallic walls around them. “However, I would like to make you aware of our introductory protocol before I leave to attend my other projects.”

     Logan managed a stiff nod, unnerved by the man's avoidance of his question but too afraid to press further.

    “You will be given three days of total isolation. No meals will be granted until authorized by myself personally.”

    “What?” Logan’s voice cracked as he looked blankly up at the unsympathetic smile on the doctor’s face. “Why—Why would you—I haven’t done anything.”

    “This is standard procedure, Logan. To condition a proper response time to my requests, I find it helps when our guests have proper motivation to participate in our studies.” Picani shrugged as his eerie grin widened. “Don't worry though, you'll have water. I don’t need you hitting the cactus juice this early on in your stay.”

    Logan’s heart dropped at the doctor’s nonchalant attitude. He'd feared the worst, but the flicker of sadism in the eyes of the man in front of him left him weak. “Y-you can’t—”

    “Perhaps, another day of fasting is necessary to convince you of your position here.” The man's voice dropped with a hint of irritation at Logan’s resistance. “The research we do here is essential to the health and well-being of humankind. I will not tolerate my subjects acting out of line.”

    “I—I won’t—”

    “Let me clarify for you—”

    The man snapped his fingers and his guard lunged at Logan.  He flinched, not quick enough to dodge the harsh grip as he was suddenly forced back onto the twin bed. A pained gasp escaped him as a heavy metal cuff clamped down on his wrist and it was yanked up and attached to the metal frame.

    “—the sooner you give up the illusion that you have a choice, the easier your time here will be.”

    “Wait—” Panic flooded over Logan as he rattled the metal on his wrist. Don't—Don't do this—”

    “A very wise fire lord once said that certain people are born lucky and others are lucky to be born.” Dr. Picani stepped forward, smiling as Logan froze like a deer in the headlights. “There are others yet though that I believe are simply lucky to have survived as long as they have.”

    “Please—I'll do anything.” Logan wheezed as his breathing became unsteady. “Don’t leave me alone—Don’t leave me—"

    “Consider this a warning, Logan .” The doctor whispered. A hint of a smile spread across his face as Logan lifted his head timidly to him. Dark shadows pooled under his eyes, made eerie by the glowing red light of the room and the manic glimmer in his dark eyes. “If you choose to fight me, the next few days are just a taste of the misery I can cause you.”

    Logan’s pleas tapered off to silent begging as his heart pounded in his chest. He felt the doctor slip away as tears blurred his vision.  The loud sound of the metal door drowned out the sound of his sobs as he pulled helplessly at his restraints, feeling the weight of the isolation already unraveling the already precarious state of his mind.

---

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoyed the whump. Poor Logan’s having a hell of a day but on the bright side, the next chapter should be out in a matter of minutes so keep an eye out! Also, please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist as well!

General Taglist:

@justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck @shadowyplaidpurseegg

[hualianff]

Thinking about XL who used to be an heir to one of the fastest-growing technology companies in the world, “Xianle Tech.” When his family’s business was still thriving, XL attended a lot of charity events to meet with clients and cultivate important connections he would have to uphold as future CEO.

Everything seemed to be going according to plan, XL developing a respectable name for himself as he began business school. Once he graduated, XL shadowed his father at work, learning the ropes of how to run a successful company that competed with the best in the world.

However, the success was never meant to last.

Only three years down the road, XianLe Tech suffered a major setback when reports spread that their new product line caused harmful explosions after little use. After paying millions in indemnification for the damage customers experienced, another scandal revealed XianLe Tech had been profiting off of unpaid labor.

Within one month, the world XL had grown up to know crumbled all around him. And he could do nothing about it. All the “friends” XL had disappeared within a blink of an eye. No one wanted to be associated with the family who had resorted to dirty practices for their advantage, which is incredibly ironic considering the business industry is all about networking and using others as stepping stones to achieve selfish goals.

Nevertheless, XL understood that it had been wrong, that he and his parents were wrong to disregard the roots of their manufacturing process. XL wasn’t aware of his privilege up until now, but he sure as hell would learn how to combat this systematic inequity, somehow salvaging what he had left along the way.

XL becomes a social worker who is a Youtuber on the side, educating his viewers about class injustices, homelessness, poverty, and the same exploitation of lower-class resources that led to XianLe Tech’s downfall. He also incites them to engage in random acts of kindness whenever they can. He doesn’t have a huge subscriber following, doesn’t make money off of his videos. XL is just glad that some people watch his videos. He hopes he can make a positive impact on their lives, no matter how small.

After all, XL is a firm believer that despite the world being a scary and lonely place, having at least one person let you know you are cared for is enough to make a difference–is enough to save a life.

***

“I am sorry, but we cannot serve you at this moment.”

“But we talked on the phone a few hours ago. I have a reservation,” XL says calmly. He holds up his phone with the confirmation page pulled up. The waiter doesn’t even glance at the screen, sniffing as if XL is nothing but a nuisance.

“Still, we don’t serve people like you,” he says, eyeing XL’s outfit with distaste.

Ah, so it was an appearance issue. XL quickly looks around at the seated guests, catching sight of wrists adorned with miraculous jewels and pricey wristwatches, bodies clothed with expensive fabrics no doubt imported from overseas. The same aura of practiced prestige and sophistication lingers in the air.

XL doesn’t even have to glance down at his ripped jeans, cream-colored sweater, and flimsy white jacket to know he sticks out like a sore thumb. He internally sighs, slightly regretting taking SQX up on their recommendation to try out The Red Thread. If XL knew he would’ve been barred from in-dining eating, he would not have placed a reservation in the first place.

But XL doesn’t want to give up just yet. He still has a lot to learn about class discrimination and prejudices; if XL were to walk away now with his tail between his legs, it would be giving power to those who claimed superiority and unjust treatment in the first place. Instead of allowing this waiter to brush him to the side like a pest, XL stands his ground, adjusting his beige handbag on his shoulder.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean. Could you please elaborate?” XL asks in a breezy tone. A sense of amusement bubbles in his gut when the waiter looks visibly annoyed.

“Sir, we don’t mean to be unaccommodating. However, there are standards in place that were set by the CEO himself. We are simply abiding by his standards,” the waiter says, presenting the matter like he had no choice but to turn XL away.

“Is it a money problem? Because I assure you I can pay for my meal, if that’s what you’re worried about,” XL tries again. The waiter narrows his eyes, making XL gulp nervously. He unconsciously twists the hair not pulled back in his half-bun.

A few more waiters gather around them, ready to jump in if things get too heated.

“Oh, I’m certain the former heir to XianLe Tech can afford our service,” the main waiter sneers unkindly. XL’s breath catches in his throat upon being recognized. The probing eyes suffocate him, probably taking into account how renowned he was years ago and thinking how far he has fallen to come to a Michelin-starred restaurant dressed like this.

XL feels himself losing steam.

“But we are asking you to leave. It’s up to you whether or not force will be necessary.”

“It’s not right to refuse service when there is no valid reason in doing so,” XL says, more desperate this time.

“You do not pass the dress code,” another waiter pipes up. “You are not fit to be here.”

The main waiter now walks towards XL, a grim expression on his face.

“Wait, I’d like to speak to your manager, if they’re here–”

“I am the manager. Don’t make things harder for yourself,” the manager replies brusquely. He stands tall in front of XL, an intimidation tactic used to make XL back down. XL’s face heats up as he realizes he’s caught the attention of other customers as well. He’s like a trapped animal being told to scram in the presence of merciless predators.

It’s not a nice feeling, not at all.

Humiliation seeps into XL’s bones. It’s been a while since he was last scrutinized by the general public, and while this is only a handful of elite gathered in a medium-sized building, the burden weighing down on XL feels like that of the weight of the world. He needs to escape. He needs to breathe. Because only then can XL continue saving himself.

Right as XL decides it might be time to let the reins go, he hears the whooshing sound of the doors opening. He doesn’t turn to see who has entered, but the surrounding staff who were observing the exchange go deathly silent. Their faces automatically mold into a mask of obedience, posture tightening up.

***

He is one of the oldest orphans in the orphanage. His age alone makes him fit for this task, and if he does it right, he can earn money as well as the good graces of his caretakers. He can do it.

He must. He must survive.

But there are so many people. So many plates and tables and silverware. Everyone is so tall, so big, so important. It’s been three hours, and his feet have developed blisters. The bruises from a couple days ago still throb. When he smells all the rich aromas coming from the kitchen, from the plates he carries upon both hands, his stomach growls.

He feels light-headed. Too many people, he thinks. Too much talking and boisterous laughter. He wants to leave but he can’t. He won’t be paid until the end of the night, after clean-up.

He continues to work.

And then it happens. It’s too fast. He wasn’t looking where he was going, just staring at the floor as he rushed to the kitchen. But he has bumped into another person, and judging by the clothes he wears and his pleasant scent, this person is very important.

He can only stare at the mess he’s made. There are gasps of shock and horror around him. He can’t breathe. He wants to disappear. To die, just freaking die already. He will never make it out if he can’t even complete mundane work like this.

As he’s ushered into the kitchens by the older male, he prepares for the yelling, and possibly the hits. They never come. Instead, he’s cleaned up by the older male, who asks a couple questions.

He answers them willingly.

“What is your name?”

“It’s nice to meet you, Xiao Hong-er. I’m Xie Lian, you can call me gege, okay?”

“Everyone makes mistakes, Xiao Hong-er. But they will never define you. As long as you remain true to yourself, you can achieve anything you set your heart to. Do you understand?”

“I believe in you.”

When gege left through the kitchen doors, back to the adult world, back to being important, another older male walks in. The other male frowns, then says one word.

“Fired.”

***

“What is going on here?” An authoritative voice demands, sending powerful vibrations through the air. The hairs on the back of XL’s neck stand up as the new person comes up from behind him. This must be an important figure.

The manager answers that a customer–who isn’t even dressed according to the standards–has been causing trouble. Already beyond mortified at the turn of events but refusing to let it show, XL slowly meets the newcomer’s eyes as he is acknowledged.

The man is tall, at least a head taller than XL. He’s broader too, dressed to the nines just like the other waiters and customers in the restaurant. His skin is hauntingly pale, slivers of ink peeking out from underneath the dress shirt he wears, top three buttons open. XL does not allow his gaze to waver as he instantly labels this guy one of the most handsome men he’s laid eyes upon, and it makes his heart stutter.

XL shoves down these uncalled for thoughts and refrains from giving any of his emotions away.

The most peculiar thing is the eyepatch settled upon the other man’s right eye. XL makes it a point not to stare too much. The eye left uncovered regards XL with interest. XL feels shivers run down his spine at that, steeling himself for the harsh words that will be directed towards him once more.

So XL finally bows his head and lowers his eyes.

“Never mind. I was just leaving. Sorry to be a disturbance.”

An awkward silence follows. The staff doesn’t say anything, but their faces are victorious at the prospect that XL has finally caved in. On the other hand, the taller man’s eye widens, and he only regards XL for ten more seconds before anger becomes noticeable in his gaze.

XL feels his stomach drop.

He goes to make his exit, except a large hand on his shoulder prevents him from turning around. XL looks at the taller man with confusion. The eye-patched man says only one word, expression solemn.

“Stay.”

As XL processes this with raised eyebrows, the taller man now glares holes into the manager who had spoken in the first place. With a click of his tongue, loud and clear, all the staff rushes back to their places, getting back to work. This includes the manager, who ducks his head to avoid the hostile energy of who XL now assumes is his boss.

“Sir?” XL addresses quietly as all the eyes that were once staring at him go back to their own business. The taller man now fully turns to face XL, hand slipping off XL’s shoulder.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t realize such standards were put into place since my departure. I’ll ensure there are consequences for the staff that has disrespected you tonight,” he says firmly, never breaking eye contact. This makes XL’s skin crawl, makes him feel alive. The other man holds his hand out, seemingly shrinking himself to fit XL’s comfort. “I’m the owner of this establishment, by the way. You can call me San Lang.”

XL is utterly speechless for a second, automatically taking SL’s hand and shaking while simultaneously admiring his undeniable attractiveness.

“M-many thanks, San Lang. I didn’t mean to cause such a commotion...” XL feels himself blush as he takes note that their hands have been intertwined for an absurd amount of time considering they’re strangers.

“I tried telling them I had a reservation, but they wouldn’t seat me—“

“They rejected your reservation?” SL questions sharply, dropping XL’s hand and curling his own into a fist.

XL bites his lip, nodding. He can practically feel the waves of irritation rolling off of the owner. “But I suppose I didn’t realize how high-scale this restaurant is. I mean, I’ve heard many great things about the food...”

When SL doesn’t say anything, the corner of his lips turned downwards, XL quickly backtracks in panic, realizing what he said must’ve been offensive.

“I’m sure your restaurant still holds true to its reputation, haha! I suppose...maybe I should’ve thought to dress more formally so this wouldn’t have happened,” XL says.

However, SL is already shaking his head. When he speaks, his voice is hushed, words tumbling out in a smooth baritone voice that XL could listen to for hours.

“No. None of this is your fault. Please don’t take whatever my staff has said to heart. They are the ones mistaken and they will be held accountable. Forgive me for disappointing you...?” He trails off.

“Xie Lian,” XL offers helpfully, offering a small smile.

“Xie Lian...” SL says slowly, as if testing the name out and decidedly liking the way it sounds. He whispers something else under his breath that XL can’t quite make out. XL chuckles at that, now wondering how old SL is. He doesn’t look any older than XL himself, perhaps even younger. Just the mere fact that SL is this young and so successful, XL is the one in awe.

They stand at the entrance of the restaurant in a brief silence, just staring at each other. XL assumes it’s time for him to take his leave. His reservation doesn’t matter much anymore, not like he wanted to dine and be served by the same people who looked down on him because of his underdressed self.

But before he can, once again, announce his exit, SL steps a little closer, a curious look in his eye.

“Say, Xie Lian, seeing as this was such a disservice for your night, would you be interested in going somewhere else? I know a few places that have just as delicious food,” SL offers, tilting his head innocently. His long hair is tied into a low ponytail, but his side bangs fall gracefully across his face.

“Wouldn’t that be showing me your competition?” XL asks good-naturedly. SL smirks at that.

“Competition doesn’t matter when the food in question is high quality,” he answers, holding his hands up while shrugging. “You came here for a satisfactory meal, and I’m saying I know a place or two that will be just as pleasing. If you’re up to try it, just say the word,” SL continues casually, arms now crossed in a way that makes the fabric of his long-sleeved dress shirt bulge.

XL is flattered by such an offer. He looks one last time at the inside dining room, the fancy tablecloths and expensive-looking candles, and the lavishly dressed customers who sit with their backs rod-straight, fingers pointing here and there.

It’s honestly a no-brainer. XL allows himself to smile graciously, nodding. “I would greatly appreciate it. I’m merely looking for dinner. Anywhere is fine.”

SL returns the smile, one eye crinkling at the corner. He seems relieved at XL’s response, and promptly goes to grab his coat that he had thrown at a waiter upon entering.

XL’s eyes widen at the bold, maple-red long coat SL puts on, accentuating board shoulders and his slim figure. XL puts aside his self-conscious thoughts of his ratty, second-hand clothes. SL gestures for XL to walk out the doors first, typing away at his phone, most likely making a last-minute call for a reservation.

XL thinks that for once in his life, luck seems to be on his side. What could’ve been a night of total humiliation and shame turned into a nice meal with a new friend. XL pushes the doors open with a newfound sense of happiness, completely missing the way HC makes a neck-slicing motion at the staff on his way out.

(HC)

(How To Piss Off Your Boss)

[feralnumberfive]

The Rewatch Academy: Episode 3 of Season 1

“Extra Ordinary”

I am in no way a good analyst so my little analysis and speculations probably sound a bit goofy or pretty wild and probably mean nothing at all. Everything I put into this post about each episode is purely what I noticed or thought, whether it's funny or serious. I will be making jokes, so please just leave it at that (in no way am I trying to make fun of an actor and or character!) I am also in no way saying I noticed this stuff first. This is just what I noticed while rewatching these episodes

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ 

1x01 | 1x02 | 1x03 | 1x04 |

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

☂ First off I’d like to say that this is one of my favorite episodes of this season. It’s just soooo good

☂ The second comic book in the window features the Televator from the actual comics, so that has to be canon in the show! Also at the time that that second comic came out, Five had already left since we don’t see him on the cover

☂ It’d be cool if they actually printed Vanya’s book for fans to read

☂ Well Diego isn’t wrong when he called Hazel and Cha Cha animals because of their masks

☂ Honestly I feel Vanya’s struggle with chair placement. I’ve fortunately had the luck of playing in all three clarinet chair placements, but 1st chair is challenging. I personally found each placement very fun to play, especially 3rd, and I hope Vanya does too! (why am I talking like she’s real)

☂ Hazel talks about people living ordinary lives, but didn’t he live like that too at one point? How does The Commission recruit people? If they get ordinary people, do they wipe their memories of their previous lives?

☂ “Let’s see’em get out from behind their desks, get their hands dirty for once.” Well Hazel, Five does indeed do this even though he only had a desk job for a day. Still, he got to experience both worlds

☂ My mind is blanking on this, but how did Five get that cut on his arm? Was it from a bullet wound at Gimbel’s? 

☂ Five must have a high pain tolerance to stitch his own wound but his bandaid probably wouldn’t stick due to the wet blood he slapped it over. Five sweetie you need a cotton pad and gauze for that one

☂ Wait, you’re telling me that The Umbrella Academy boys’ top uniform consists of a tank top, a white dress shirt, a tie, a sweater vest, and then the blazer? Someone asked Reginald what he wanted for the uniforms and he just said “Yes.”

☂ Five: *puts hands in pockets only to immediately take them out*

☂ Aidan almost sounds like he has an accent when he says “I'm done funding your drug habit.” 

☂ Five’s so soft talking to his wife

☂ No Leonard, your bread and butter is being a creep

☂ Also, he thinks wood carving is embarrassing? If someone came up to me and showed me something they carved out of wood I would be so jealous cause it’s such a neat form of art

☂ Leonard saying that he carved wood, and in that case wooden figures, when he was a kid is a slight foreshadow of all of his tampering with his Umbrella Academy figures. He can make wooden figures but he’s also destroyed a handful of the Hargreeves figures 

☂ “Never really did like The Beatles.” Well sir you’ve made me dislike you even more

☂ Vanya asking Allison if her siblings wanted her at the family meeting bugs me a bit. I absolutely get that she was literally left out of anything and everything that had to do with her siblings when she was younger, but Allison just asked her to come back home for a family meeting. Allison wouldn't have walked around looking for Vanya only to tell her that they were having a family meeting and that she wasn’t actually invited. Allison is including her in on a family meeting but Vanya is just in a bit of disbelief that she’s being included

☂ Ah yes, the only PTSD flashback for Five we see in the show! He looks so scared when he snaps out of it. I believe it was somehow triggered by the kids (I could be wrong) but do you think Five sometimes panics when he looks at himself in the mirror now since his body is the same age it was when he got stuck? Also it’s very subtle but when Luther opens the door, Five slightly jerks/flinches back. I wish we would see more of this in the show since it’s one of his major traumas

☂ “Does it matter? It’s Klaus.” Ouch! Well Five I hope you know that your siblings are somewhat thinking the same thing since they believe that you’ve lost your mind and are practically an old man crying “Apocalypse!” 

☂ Five does an ever so slight huff and smirk when Luther tells him that the meeting at the Academy is important. He finds it a little funny but so frustrating in his mind that Luther doesn’t know what’s truly important

☂ Also I love that Aidan has to turn to the side so that he can keep it together after Klaus talks about his chocolate pudding waxing. Either that or he’s portraying Five as being frustrated and in disbelief. Also this is the first time I’ve noticed that he says “Ay, ay ay...” 

☂ “We’re all you have. And you know it.” Oh Luther, you’re failing to see that that’s why he’s acting like this right now. He’s all frantic and crazed about trying to stop the apocalypse so that he can protect and save all that he has

☂ Five certainly is mad at Luther during his mini lecture. He’s clenching his jaw tightly and when he first speaks he hisses out the words through gritted teeth. He even called Luther by his number. He’s very impatient at this point and doesn’t care for Luther’s act of attempting to be a leader

☂ This is their first, and certainly not last, time watching Klaus go by in front of them doing something he shouldn’t be doing

☂ “You haven’t been home in a long time, Vanya.” Sir you were also just on the moon for four years. Yeah Vanya was away for a long time but Grace easily could have changed too during the four years you were gone

☂ How sweet, even though Five hasn’t really been home they want to include him in on the family vote :]

☂ I’ve noticed that in S1 that David really mumbles his lines. A lot

☂ I wish we got more flashbacks of the younger Umbrellas

☂ Diego my beloved mama’s boy ♥️

☂ It’s confusing as to which country TUA takes place in, but it’s really not supposed to be a specific one. It’s portrayed as being in North America, but you can see behind Cha Cha when she gets out of the car at the Academy the flag of the RAF, which Canada would have at a monument since it’s a Commonwealth country. At the same time though Delores came from Gimbels, which was a department store chain across the U.S

☂ The light above Five’s portrait is slightly crooked, which probably means no one has really been paying attention to it

☂ It makes me nervous that Klaus wipes bubbles onto his face. It looks like he got some in his eyes

☂ Ugh I love the whole scene of Hazel and Cha Cha walking around the Academy with “We’re Through” playing

☂ Diego: *has knives but instead chooses to punch and hit Hazel to try to make him let go of Allison”

☂ A rope-a-dope is a boxing tactic of pretending to be trapped against the ropes, goading an opponent to throw tiring ineffective punches. Diego sweetie Hazel wasn’t even trying to get you off of him all he was doing was choking Allison. The only person who got tired was probably you

☂ What’s the point in Diego yelling “Luther, go!” if he’s already going 💀

☂ Luther was there immediately when Hazel attacked Vanya. That means that Luther heard Vanya and was going to go get her to safety

☂ I will never stop signing my praise for the entirety of the “Sinnerman” fight scene(s). It gives me chills every single time. Easily one of the best scenes in all of the show

☂ Klaus must really have his music blasting if he can’t hear the gun shots right next to him

☂ I’ve always wondered if Allison actually registered in her mind that “The boy” is Five when Cha Cha says that’s who they’re looking for. Either she does realize that’s Five, is simply just angry that those two are looking for a boy, or registers in her mind that it’s Five through his superhero codename even though Cha Cha’s not referring to him in that way

☂ Diego is full on just standing in the background watching Allison get beat up by Cha Cha 🕴

☂ I love Diego’s little hand flap when he gets hit in the hand fighting Cha Cha

☂ Okay so I make everything about Five, but the whole Cha Cha fight scene with Allison and then Diego kind of scares me. Cha Cha and Hazel are both amazing assassins (they’re both probably right below Five) and neither Allison nor Diego could stop her by themselves. Could you imagine Five fighting one of his siblings? Especially with his spatial jumps? We already got a glimpse of his true combat skills when he fights Lila in S2. What a scary little old man

☂ “Vanya, get out of here!” Again, wanting to make sure that Vanya is safe and gets away. He even tried to go look for her

☂ Something I don’t really get about the Hazel and Luther fight is why doesn’t Luther just overpower him? Luther has super strength and on top of that he has giant muscles due to the gorilla DNA. Shouldn’t he be able to beat Hazel to a pulp? Maybe we have to consider that Hazel might have been altered by The Commission to be stronger and more durable, but they haven’t mentioned that in the show

☂ “Ah, you gotta cut down on that fast food, soldier.” What are you talking about Diego he literally just got off the moon two days ago aflksjfdk

☂ So Luther was too injured to jump out of the way of the chandelier but was able to push it up off of himself? 🤔

☂ I personally think that Luther’s body design adaptation for the show is really cool and that they gave him the perfect amount of bulk without making him look ridiculous

☂ This has been pointed out before, but cross-stitch foreshadowing, baby 

☂ Again, Diego my beloved mama’s boy ♥️

☂ Well at least Diego thought about Vanya dying before thinking about his siblings dying because of her. The latter is ironic!

☂ The clock above Luther’s mirror reads approximately 1:30 am. Hazel and Cha Cha didn’t want to wait until morning

☂ I wonder how different it would be if Five was present at the Academy when Hazel and Cha Cha attacked. He probably would have surrendered himself to them, but it's fun to entertain the idea that he would go apeshit if he knew that they were harming his family in order to find him

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

Feel free to comment or reblog with things you have noticed too!

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

Title: Just Gotta Stay Calm

Word Count: 3966

Fandom: Gravedale High

Ship/Pairing: Vinnie Stoker/Reggie Moonshroud

Tags: First Dates, Vampire Family, Tradition, Awkward Crush, Vampire Boyfriend, Werewolf Boyfriend, First Kiss, Dorks in Love, Awkward Dates, Boys in Love, Friendship/Love

Warnings: First Works of the fandom, swearing(small), awkward, fluff

Vinnie let in a breath as he examines himself in the special vampire mirror on his bedroom wall. He quietly checks every inch of his face closely before opening his mouth to check his fangs.

Good, He thought with a charming grin to himself. No pimples, no stuff in my teeth, no flaws in sight.  Vinnie went to his dresser and takes out some cologne he bought specifically for today, a scent of calming forest rain, and sprayed some on his neck and a little bit in his shirt. Not a lot just the basic stuff to seem simple and posh.

Vinnie and Reggie are finally getting themselves a date.  A real, really real, true date.  Just the two of them.  And Vinnie could be more happier then this moment!

Vinnie has been meaning to ask his best friend out for quite some time, since the first moment he noticed his feelings were a bit more then platonic bashful moths in his chest and stomach actually.  It took him a total of two full months to completely wrap his head around the fact that he - Vincent "Vinnie" Stoker - was wings over heels in love with the world's one and only Reggie Moonshroud.  However, it took him nearly a YEAR to get up all the courage to ask the boy out. Honestly, if it weren't for his friends this day might've never happened.

The young vampire left his bedroom and hurries down his stairs, only to be stopped by the voice of his old man, "Vincent, can you come here please?" Vinnie let out a silent shutter as he mentally cursed himself.

He slowly turned his body fully towards the older vampire sitting in his velvet chair with a pipe in between his lips, small puffs of the smoke emerging out the ends. The teen slowly walked over. "Y-Yea pops?" His voice rarely stammers when speaking, hasn't since he was in the 6th grade, at least not when he nervous beyond his wits like when he tried to get the chance to ask Reggie out and plan out what to do on said date.

"Are you going to go on your date soon?" Asked Mr. Stoker. Vinnie nods some in reply, his hands fumbling into his jacket's pockets. This was not what he wanted to do.  The older vampire stood up from his chair, pipe still puffing out smoke, his eyes focus out the window of the chilly autumn gray skies. He takes a puff before continuing, "I want to give you some simple advice for your first date Vincent. Vampire to vampire." Vinnie practically shrunk his head down into his coat's collar.

Defiantly not what he wanted to do. . .

"That's okay pops, I got it covered-" He began as he slowly creeped his way to the front door. "The year was 1880. . ."  Vinnie bite back a groan, knowing very well that once his dad starts it's hard to stop him.  "I was simply a beginning apprentice to the one and only Dracula. Mostly paper work and long mornings. I thought I had everything cut out for me, a great job and nice home, until I realized I was missing something important when I first saw your mother wandering through the local cemetery." Mr. Stoker smiles fondly as he light strokes his black beard. "She is my first and only love as I'm sure you know. And it took me decades to ask her on a single date, I feared she might not want a simple vampire apprentice who barely knows how to turn into a bat, but alas she surprise me with a yes."  Vinnie nods, "Yeah yeah I know. And you two spent many years together, got married, had two kids, and lived happily ever after. Dad, I know the story pretty well you know."

He didn't mean to interrupt his father's tale, he just already has his nerves up through the roof and he just want to hurry for the plans.  His father turned and looked at his son right in the eyes as he spoke, "I know you do. I'm just trying to tell you that last night I was certain to give you some advice for your date, a vampire tradition my father gave me as his father gave him and his father so forth. I know you're nervous and it's perfectly natural. Just remember, be courteous. Be engaging. And above all, have a plan." Vinnie nodded. "Don't worry pops, I got it covered. Now can I go and do the date itself?" He asked the older vampire, who nodded to his please. He didn't wait any few seconds to open the front door and flying off with a snap.

This will go well, He thought to himself as he feels the wind go through his black hair. Reggie will enjoy the date I have planned for us. This is a piece of blood orange pie. Vinnie smiled as he spaces out on today's plans. Slowly, though, his brain began to swim to a memory of when he got the nerves to finally make that choice he's been walking back and forth on. . .

~   ~   ~

Vinnie taps the heels of his shoe onto the cold hard floor of the school's classroom as he watches the clock tic away, his eyes going to the clock and to the werewolf just a desk away from him.  Today was the day, Vinnie told himself throughout the hours. Today I'm going to do it.  As if proving his luck, the bell rings out around the school, signalling everyone to grab their stuff and hurry the Hell out of there for the weekend.  Vinnie stood onto his feet, catching Gil and Sid giving him a thumbs up as they run out the classroom, and looks over at Reggie who is still putting his stuff away.

The vampire took a breath in and walked his way over to the red head's desk, his feet feeling kind of heavy as he gets closer. Be cool Vinnie, just do it. "Hey Reg." His voice called out suddenly, the rest of his body slowly just going with the flow.  Reggie turned his head and smiled up at his friend. "Hey there Vinnie. You usually are gone by now, is Mr. Schneider Sir seeing you after class again?" He asked as he puts his books away in his bag. Vinnie smiles warmly, he enjoys Reggie's voice. The way his small lisp happens between the small gap of the front of his teeth.  The way his voice cracks sometimes in the right moments. Just generally how comforting it is...

The vampire quickly shook his head when he finally notices Reggie is standing up and looking at him with cocoa brown eyes that warm up Vinnie's dead chest, "No no. I just wanted to know...if...um...i-if you don't mind me asking...I uh..."  "Yes Vinnie?" Reggie pressed on. Honestly, it's like he knows what he's doing to me. Vinnie took a gulp from his dry mouth before he spoke a retry, "I just wanted to know...if...if...well...if you're free this weekend? Maybe...we could...go out?" He didn't know if he sounded needy or not but he didn't care, he finally said it!

Reggie blinked a few times before replying, "Of course we can hang out Vin. We often times do already."  "No, Reggie, I meant...go out...like a...date...?" Vinnie was so scared to look at Reggie in the face yet he has to in order to watch his reaction.  And boy was it a reaction... His cute wolf ears were perked down in a way his shyness shows, hard to tell but behind that fur his cheeks were very rosey and red, just looking at him gave Vinnie so much heat on his face he for sure thought he was going to die.

~    ~     ~

Vinnie chuckled softly when Reggie's face on that day came to mind.

Well, yeah, the reply was a day late but nevertheless he said yes.  And the day has finally came.

Vinnie soon landed at Reggie's place, a pretty big home of four stories with a even bigger yard surrounded it of 6 aches each side. He knew Reggie's family owned a big home for such a big family but he honestly wasn't expecting something so... human dream life. A white picket fence wrapping around the areas of land, green grass in perfect height, the house painted in a nice paint of soft blue with the windows having a white coat to the edges, a cute porch sticking out from the big dark brown oak made front door, and to fit so perfectly a nice little porch swing with a small coffee table.  In all honesty neither Vinnie nor Reggie been to each others' houses despite being friends for years. Always staying at the dorms the school gave them for half the week.

The vampire slowly made his way to the porch and gently pulled the rope that rings the door bell loudly it echos around him and to the forest not far from the house itself. He tripled checked in his head the plans of the date as he waits a few seconds before the door opened and Reggie's head popped into view. "Hey Vinnie." Reggie said with a smile and opened the door already for him to step out. "Hey there Reg-" Vinnie nearly chocked on his words upon seeing Reggie. He wasn't wearing anything out of his comfort zone but something Vinnie was expecting obviously... Let alone something his heart was ready for.  There standing in front of him with the shine of the afternoon sun glimmering a special effect through the tree leafs Reggie wearing a typical white button-down shirt and well ironed dress pants but wears also a well knitted beige and blood red pattern pullover sweater vest and a black Letterman jacket with a big red R stitched to his chest's right side, his hair combed in a messy side bangs style to the left side of his face. Honestly, Vinnie doesn't know if this was more cute or sexy and he was pretty scared of both.  "I-I could change if you want..." Reggie stated, snapping Vinnie out of his daze to realize he's been staring holes into the poor werewolf. "No no you're okay Reg. Just uh...caught me off guard is all. It's cool." Vinnie spoke up with his hands up in defense.

Reggie giggles some, causes Vinnie's undead heart to for sure jumble in beats like a drum.

The first stop of this little date for the two monsters was a nice little fly over the town to the date's main destination. Reggie clings to Vinnie from behind, his face so close to his their cheeks are barely touching softly, his eyes watching the town below them. "Gee Vinnie, this is beautiful." He whispered but Vinnie heard it very well, his warm breath gently dancing across Vinnie's ear, his cheeks warming up in a soft shade of pink, a smile appearing on the vampire's lips. If anything, if he had a chance to say it, Reggie was the most beautiful thing to Vinnie's eyes. Though as a sad as it had pained him he knew he would crash into something if he doesn't focus.

His eyes scanned around the area before carefully landing in front of a cafe looking place. Reggie looked around the place when he climbed down from the vampire's back as he tucked in his wings. "Um... Vinnie." Reggie mumbled softly as he dragged his feet closer to Vinnie. Vinnie let out a hum, "Yeah Reg?" "Correct me if I'm wrong but this is a human cafe is it not?" Indeed it was.  "Yeah. I figured to have a nice bite here for a change." "True it's just... don't you rather want to go to Ms. White's Diner? It's one of your favorites right?" Vinnie had to fight back the urge of going to his favorite 50's diner and share a monster shake with Reggie, he had a plan and he's sticking to it. He gently takes his paw and said, "This is just as good Reg, promise. Plus they serve your favorite here. Trust me."  Reggie looked at the place and at Vinnie, seemed to be small on numbers of humans... So it could be okay right?

The two monsters entered the cafe and walked it's way to a table right in the center. The place was nice, clean, quiet, cute, and had a nice nature aesthetic with potted plants hanging from the ceiling and the smell of coffee and tea with some sweets filling your sense of smell. "This place is nice." Reggie said, his eyes focused on every little detail around him.  The V-Man couldn't help but smile proudly, the date's going so well so far.

A waiter walks over to their table with a notepad and spoke to the two teenage monsters, "Afternoon gentlemen. What can I get you for drinks?" Vinnie opened the menu.  "I'd like a black coffee with a side of milk creamer."  The waiter nodded and looked at Reggie waiting for his answer.  The werewolf quietly looked through the menu, his eyes widening like space saucers. "O-Oh my...Um...w-water would be fine..."  The waiter wrote the orders down before hurrying to the back.  Reggie looked at Vinnie with a raised brow, "This place is expensive Vinnie. They don't even serve your favorite drinks here. And I think you need it, you look ill..."

Vinnie knew Reggie was worried, he can hear it in his voice, but he can't simply explain it... Since the night before last he hasn't had a drop of blood to nibble a sip from due to how stressed and nervous he was getting over asking Reggie out and planning out this perfect date. Black coffee was the best he could get to that bitter goodness. And if not, the creamer would do the trick.  Still, he knew he can't say all that to Reggie, not to seem not cool in front of his crush but also because he doesn't want the werewolf to feel bad or blame himself. Instead he just smiles his traditional smile and leaned back in his chair as he coats his voice with soothing calmness, "It's fine Reg. Everything fine actually. I just... had a big batch during breakfast and need the coffee here is good as I'm told. Plus, the money, don't worry. I got it covered." He finishes with a wink and another smile which caused Reggie's shoulders to calm down slightly.

After a few more seconds the waiter returned with their drinks and a notepad still in hand, "Here is your black coffee with a side of milk creamer and your glass of water sirs. May I interest you into something to eat?" Vinnie glances at the man's meaty neck and silently licked his fang out of sights, his brain wracking him inside his skull to try and not accept the urge to chomp down onto that neck and drink up. His hand quickly grabbed the coffee cup as soon as it was set and took a big gulp of it. Bitter. Not as bitter but still helps a little. He thought, feeling his nerves calm down a bit more.  He glances over at Reggie and smiles, "Why don't you order first? I'll follow after."  Reggie fixes his glasses and looked over the menu, a few times his eyes peeking at Vinnie as if asking for his help. "G-Gee...there's a lot of good options... Um..." He pondered out loud, Vinnie could see the human tapping his pen in a annoyance type manner. He bite down on his bottom lip some to fight back his new urge to range his neck.  Before the urge could happen for real, Reggie's voice rang out to Vinnie's ears, "I-I guess I can have the Pea & Carrot Soup with the Greek Salad as the side?"  "And you sir?" Vinnie had to remember how to talk before he took a quick glance at the menu before blurting out his order, "I'd like a French Onion Soup." And like before the man walked away after writing the orders down.

Vinnie noticed Reggie seemed more awkward and fidgety then his usual form.  "Everything alright Reg?" Vinnie asked, his voice truly worried. He truly is worried for Reggie. Maybe he caught that waiter's rudeness towards them because of their race? Maybe it's the fact it's clearly two boys out doing things beyond friends? The vampire's head is just about to explode over the thoughts on what could be wrong with his Reggie- My Reggie? Vinnie thought of having Reggie of his very own before... I mean it did sound nice to him but would Reggie be down to being...

Reggie softly shook his head with a mumbled, "It's nothing, really..." But Vinnie knew something's been bothering his pal. Maybe... Vinnie felt sick thinking this, Maybe he's not comfortable being on a date with me... Before he knew it the food had arrived but the two didn't seem in the mood to enjoy it... Vinnie gulped down the rest of his coffee and stared down at his dish.

Great, my nerves are all over the place now and Reggie ain't having a good time... He thought as he watched Reggie gently nibble on his soup and salad, the two barely having one or two small conversations. This date is going terrible...

The two left the cafe quietly and quickly after paying for the bill. The two were still pretty silent. Reggie broke this awkward pause in the air with a smile, "The food was pretty good Vinnie." Vinnie doesn't reply. "Vinnie..?" Suddenly, the second monster on this date let out a groan like sigh before slumping his body down a grass area in the side walk, "That stupid waiter! 50 bucks and all he had to do is make it nice!"

Reggie tilt his head at this and quietly asked, "What do you mean...?"  There was a pause when Vinnie looked away with no answer, causing it to click to the smarter of the two.  "Vinnie Stoker, did you pay a human waiter for our date?"  Vinnie sighed, "Not just paid Reggie, I paid the guy $50 to hold off any other reservations so it can be just us... I know you don't like really crowded places but that guy ruined it. I wasted 50 from my allowance just to have a guy be rude to you." Vinnie covered his face with his palms. "I'm sorry Reg...I really am..." Surprising Vinnie, Reggie grabbed his hand and pulls him up before guiding him somewhere.

"Hey Reg, where we going?" He asked, but his question fell on deaf ears as the werewolf still guided him silently.  Suddenly the vampire began to feel a new kind of nervous. Was Reggie mad? Was he going to yell at him for bribing a human? Does he know he hasn't been drinking his daily sips of blood?  He felt sick at the ideas of any of those being true and he blew this date... His one chance... And he blew it major time... There might not even be a second chance in this... "Look Reg..." Vinnie started, hanging his head low in shame. Reggie stopped him, "You didn't have to do any of that Vinnie. I would be perfectly fine going to any place we usual go."  Vinnie did not want this date to be ruined. He did not want his friendship to be tainted. All Vinnie wanted to do was do what he planned, even if it was sudden...

"I like you Reggie!"

Reggie stopped suddenly and whipped his head around so fast he must've felt dizzy.  No turning back now huh? Vinnie thought, taking a deep breath in, "I've always liked you Reg... And I mean really like you... Like...Like... I always get happy in the mornings because I get a chance to be near you at school, it's the only reason why I don't ditch as often. And when you're not there I feel sad...so sad I feel sick... I often re-read the messages we send back and forth after school because I miss talking to you that much... A-And that time when I was running for School President and you were helping me... Reggie, I felt so happy just being around you...seeing you so happy at what you were doing... I know this isn't stuff you want to hear instead of a apology...but I swear to you it's truer then true Reggie... I really like you... I've liked you for so long...I don't know when but I know when I figured it out... when you were fallin from the sky and I was running to you... All that's been runnin' around my head was "I can't let him go"... Reggie... you matter to me so much the idea of you not here with me is killing me..."

Vinnie was so scared to look up at his friend, scared he made it worst... "I just...I know this date ended up bad... but I-" Vinnie's words were cut short when he lifted his head to finally face his nerves, quickly his lips were covered by the soft fur of Reggie's lips.  The teen vampire felt his undead heart beat for miles and miles as every second slowly passes by between them, his eyes widen more then the usual wide but slowly his body began to melt by the warmth of Reggie's lips and they slowly blinked to a close while his lips push pressure back into the kiss.

The kiss lasted about a extra minute before the two pulled away, Vinnie's ears catching a soft small puppy like whine coming from deep back within Reggie's neck. "You like my lips that much Reg?" Vinne asked with a tease in his voice, smiling more when see that same expression of bashfulness Vinnie witness when he asked Reggie out in the first place. "Okay, I'm sorry... does...this mean you like me too...?" He asked, hopeful of his words being a positive. Reggie giggles softly, "Of course it means I like you Vinnie... Why else would I agree to go on a date and kiss you?" Vinnie felt stupid asking such a obvious question.  "And...why else would I do this?" After Reggie said that, he guided Vinnie again towards a secret spot. A nice little isolated hill spot overlooking the entire town and beach. Reggie...planned this? The vampire looked at Reggie in disbelief, now noticing the blush fur on his cheeks. "I... I like you too Vinnie... A lot... I've always had felt it too but that day when you risked everything just for me was when I realize it was more then a simple crush... And I wanted to show you how I felt since then...but I was too chicken to even bring it up in conversation... So, when you asked me out, I was nervous that I might miss my shot...so..." "So you ended up setting this up?"  Reggie nodded some, his bangs sweeping over his warm brown eyes in a cute shy manner.

Vinnie smiles softly and wrapped his arms around Reggie's frame, his lips lightly touching a small peck on his cheek. Sure, this wasn't the date I had planned... Reggie giggles and gently sat on the grass, Vinnie following after. The sun was just about going darker as the stars began to appear above them like candles they used to have lit from their old fears of the unknown... Vinnie could help but smile when seeing Reggie's happy face when he cuddles into him.  But I honestly couldn't ask for anything better.

[babysizedfics]

are you still wanting the requests? because after the disaster that was roman trying to act like a cg for baby virge, I'd be interested in seeing it the opposite way around? like who is the bigger disaster here when it comes to trying to act like a cg

this ask.. is from july..... wow i take my time shskdhhs but please accept this vague bullet fic/concept/thing

Vee trying (and failing) to babysit Ro

So. One day (around september 2020) Virgil decides he wants to try his hand at babysitting — but the thing is he doesnt actually want to

he basicaly thinks bc roman takes such good care of him as his big bro that vee should be doing smth similar. he thinks he's a bad brother in comparison if he can't offer the same care for roman

roman always disputes this but vee wants to at least try it, he's curious anyway

He asks roman privately because he doesnt want to tell logan and patton abt it, he’s embarrassed: what if they say he’s a silly baby for trying to be bigger?

also lowkey because virgil hates the idea of being a cg but hes gonna try anyway to try to be a good baby brother (ironically)

it's kind of a recipe for disaster because as we have said before, vee genuinely feels uncomfortable around little roman if virgil isnt little too

it's the fact that he finds so much comfort in being the youngest of their group, he's literally babey on all levels and if roman is actung younger than him vee just feels weird

but they try it out privately in roman's room one day (when the caregivers have said they want to be alone for a while) - roman is actually pretty indifferent to the whole idea, he just wants to help virge try (he’s secretly doubtful it will wotk but won’t say that out loud)

virgil is understandably rlly nervous and uncomfy and generally an anxious wreck

So roman takes charge and is like 'okay what should i call you?' and virgil is shakily like ‘umm… maybe just Virge is fine?’

And then Roman smiles really wide and says ‘Okay, Virge!’

it shocks virgil because Roman has very suddenly become little, his stance and voice very clearly those of a child. there wasnt any time to prepare himself

‘Do you wanna play with me?’ roman asks excitedly

Virge is really stunted like ‘s-sure’ (internally he’s like say kiddo! Just say it, it's not hard! Arrggggh I can’t!!)

And Roman starts talking to virgil about his toys and what they do

at first virgils like ‘oh that’s really cool.. Um, should I?’ points at romans toy nervously

Roman nods and pushes a toy into Virgil’s hand and starts enacting a scene with the two in his own hands

Virgil hesitates to butt into Roman’s game, he doesnt want to get the toy to say the wrong thing and upset roman.. And what if he can’t think of anything to say? What if Roman thinks he’s boring? What if he ruins the game?

on top of that virgil is starting to feel really.... iffy.. he just feels a weird sinking in his chest while he looks at roman's childish behaviour, his tummy is in knots and he kind of wants to cry but he doesnt know how to explain that

so he tries to swallow his nerves and pulls the toy up to his mouth and runs it gently across his lip as he watches Roman play. its comforting

Roman makes the toys in his hands yell at each other and Virgil jumps a bit and whimpers

Roman looks over at the noise and says sorry with an apologetic smile, but then his face changes a bit as he notices something

‘Virge, no,’ roman says gently then he reaches out to gently pull Virgil’s hand from his mouth

virgil realises with a blush that he was sucking on the toy

'You're not allowed to suck things except pacis, remember?' roman says

‘Sorwy’ Virgil murmurs. he puts the toy back down on the carpet and hugs his knees to his chest tightly. he's wiggling a bit on the spot and tugging at his sweater sleeves

Roman pauses for a bit and then ducks in front of virgils gaze with a questioning look

‘Are you feeling little, Vee?’ he asks in his adult voice, using a slight baby tak for vee's benefit

Virgil blushes and quickly shakes his head. ‘No, ’m big.’ he's not supposed to be the little one!

‘Okay…’ Roman squints slightly at him but goes back to playing with his toys, this time getting them to talk to virgil to try to include him in the game

roman obviously noticed that virgil was anxious about jumping into the game so of course he is compromising by prompting virgil gently with questions

But the interaction with romans toys makes virgil feel so much littler

theres a lot of 'what do you want this one's name to be?' 'um... um may-maybe tibble?' 'okay, Sir tibble it is!'

it's usually small insignificant decisions like that and they get virgil to giggle a bit. he does suck the toy a couple more times but roman keeps stopping him with a smile and eventually virge just drops the toy and hugs his knees to avoid it happening again

but eventually roman asks virgil a Very Important question

'Prince Virge, what shall we do with the treacherous thief?'

and that is FAR more responsibility than virgil is comfy with having

‘Um,’ Virgil bites his thumbnail and looks nervously between the toy and Roman. he really doesnt want to decide something so important and maybe ruin the game

also he's feeling really melty in his chest and words are kind of tricky to say at the moment

‘C’mon,‘ Roman encourages gently with a smile, 'you can do it.'

and the softness in Ro’s tone feeds the liquid warmth in Virgil’s chest and he hugs his legs tighter

and he can feel his eyes tear up for some reason that he can't explain. he just feels small and weird and he wants a hug

Roman sees the tears and quickly kneels up and shuffles in front of virgil

he places his free hand on virgils leg and strokes a little to comfort him

'Hey, hey, it’s okay. Don’t be nervous,’ he whispers, squeezing Virgil’s knee

Virgil sniffles lightly and tentatively reaches his hand out to stroke the toy in romans hand. it looks like a nice texture

Roman smiles and lets virgil hold the toy and stroke it for a moment to calm his nerves. When it seems he’s calmed roman tries again.

‘What do you wanna say to the thief, Vee?’ he asks slowly and kindly, looking down at virgil from where he is knelt above him

Virgil looks up at him with wide eyes then back to the toy. His thumb slots in between his lips. ‘Hewo?’

‘Hi, Vee-Vee,’ Roman giggles and shakes his head. ‘I think you’re little.’

Virgil pouts around his thumb then points at him. ‘Wo-Wo lil.’

‘Yeah and now you are too!’ Roman laughs. 'But you're even littler,' he boops Vee's nose

This makes Virgil excited and he giggles and bounces.

Roman laughs at how sweet he is. Okay, looks like it's time to be a responsible big brother again

and really this feels SO much better for both of them. virgil doesnt like being older and tbh? roman doesnt like being younger either

'do you want your paci, baby?'

Virgil makes a mnh! sound that means yes and Roman reaches out to the paci vee brought with him just in case (yeah they both secretly knew this might happen)

Roman holds it up to Vee's mouth and smiles when vee gasps im excitement and takes romans hand in both of his and latches onto the pacifier

Then he thinks. he has one more thing to check before they can both be little: 'Vee, do you remember if you're wearing a pullup?'

vee tilts his head in confusion

roman frowns 'A pullup, remember? Like a diaper.'

Vee seems to remember something at the word diaper and looks around himself with a smile.

It quickly fades when he looks back at his brother, his fingers reach up to tug his paci. ‘Where baba?’

‘You want your papa?’

Vee nods.

‘Um…’ Roman bites his lip and looks to the door. ‘But Mom said they’re both busy. Don’t you wanna stay here with me for a bit? i can just check if you're wearing a pullup then--'

Virgil whines loudly and looks around. He is growing gradually more panicked, shoulders tensed up to his neck and feet kicking at the carpet. he's getting fussy

‘Shh, it’s okay, baby.’ Roman takes his hand.

When vee's wet eyes snap onto him roman offers him a reassuring smile. ‘Alright, let’s go find Dad.'

unfortunately when they do find the caregivers they are busy and not able to take care of vee, so roman actually grows up and takes care of vee until patton comes in later to take over

and that was very ironically roman's first experience of babysitting virgil!

[polaroid15]

Febuwhump day 13 - Hiding injury

Summary: Ned invites Peter over to play video games. Little does he know that Peter just got stabbed the night before. *face palm*

Or, I JUST LOVE NED SO MUCH OKAY??? He’s a good friend  😭

Read this chapter and previous ones on Ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138196/chapters/72254343

-----

“Jeez, no offense man, but you’re not doing very good today,” Ned says, watching with a pout as their shared screen goes red. Their third loss in a row. “Aren’t your superhero instincts supposed to be good for things like this?”

Peter hums in apology and lets go of his controller to rub at tired eyes. They’re playing some new first person shooter game that Ned had stood in line for six hours to buy. No matter how fun Ned had promised it to be, it’s not helping Peter’s pounding headache, or the way that his vision is beginning to warp at its edges. “Sorry man. Just tired I guess. Let’s go again.”

Ned pauses, obviously conflicted, but must know Peter well enough not to argue because he restarts the game, thumbs clicking furiously.

Peter tries to move his player forward but his thumb misses the joystick. The screen blurs in front of him, and he squints to try and decipher the shapes. He feels lightheaded and nauseous all of a sudden, a cold sweat breaking out across his back, and he tries desperately to ignore it.

Be normal. Be normal. Please, please be normal.

But the sad fact is, he isn’t. He hasn’t been for a while. Especially when he just had to go and get himself stabbed last night...

Apparently it wasn’t healing as good as he thought.

Infected, probably. And if it doesn’t end up killing him, Tony will.

He jumps when someone on the screen shoots at him, killing his character for the fifth time that round. While he respawns, he squeezes his eyes shut to try and rid the white spots gathering across his vision, except when he reopens them, they don’t disappear.

“Watch out!”

Ned’s voice is muted, like it’s coming from another room. Peter tries to get his fingers to respond, to move the controller and evade the oncoming attack, but he can barely see, let alone coordinate the movement.

“Ned-” he rasps.

“On your right!”

“Ned.”

“No, Peter. Your other right!”

The walls are twisting, his fingers going numb against the controller. He knows what’s coming and wants desperately for it to not. The cold sweat travels to break across his forehead just as his stab wound gives a particularly vicious spike of pain. He grunts, not sure if he’s going to throw up or pass out. Maybe both. Is that even possible?

“N-Ned-”

This time, it’s enough. He is distantly aware of Ned turning towards him, but he’ll never get to see his friend’s reaction. Instead, he topples over into Ned’s shoulder, eyes sliding closed to a blissful unawareness.

---

“PETER!”

Ned gasps, dropping his remote as if it’s made out of lava in order to catch his friend. He lands heavily against Ned’s side, pushing him off balance until they end up in a messy heap on the floor.

“Oh no. Oh no. Crap!”

Ned crawls out from under Peter’s dead weight, taking in his peaked, feverish skin. He jostles his friend’s shoulder, none too gently, and Peter cries out, his hands reaching out for but not touching a suspicious dark spot above his hip bone.

“Sorry!” he squeaks, hands shaking. “Um. Think Ned. Guy in the chair, guy in the chair-”

He wrestles his phone out of his pocket, sweating fingers sliding against his screen as he presses a contact that he absolutely does not believe that he has.

It rings twice.

“This is Stark.”

“Uh hi Mr. Iron Man sir,” Ned stutters.

“Why’re you calling me Ted?”

“It’s- It’s Peter.”

A pause, charged with nervous energy. “What happened?”

“He’s at my house. We- we were playing video games and he just passed out!”

“Damn it. Is he awake now?”

“N-no!”

“Alright,” Tony says evenly, though Ned can still detect the undertones of worry hidden beneath his words. “I’m on my way. In the meantime, try and wake him up for me, okay?”

“Okay,” Ned agrees. He puts the phone on speaker and sets it to the side, shaking Peter once more. Again, his friend groans, eyebrows pulling together.

“Peter?”

“Mmm.”

“Hey, man. Wake up.”

Slowly, Peter does. He looks up at Ned’s ceiling in a painful confusion, opening his mouth without words.

“He opened his eyes!” Ned yells.

“Wha-”

“Good, good. Five minutes out.”

Peter twists his head in Ned’s direction, wincing and eyelids fluttering. “N-Ned?”

“You’re okay,” Ned assures, then pauses. “I mean, are you? What happened?”

Groaning, Peter screws up his eyes again. “Don’ call Tony.”

“Heard that, kid.”

“Crap.”

Ned sits back on his heels, hands hovering frantically over Peter’s body. Through the phone, Tony’s voice filters through once more. “Keep him talking.”

“Uh- right. Peter? What’s hurting? Are you sick?”

Peter shakes his head ever so slightly. “Stabbed,” he slurs.

“S-stabbed?”

“Oh Jesus. Not again.”

A flash of red and gold appears out of Ned’s window and his brain effectively short circuits. He rushes towards it and throws it open, heart thundering in his chest as Tony freaking Stark falls out into his bedroom.

“Pete?” the man asks tentatively. He takes three quick steps before sinking to the ground beside Peter’s limp body. Ned watches in awe at the gentleness the hero uses in wiping the damp hair out of Peter’s eyes. “I’m going to take a look, alright?”

Peter looks two seconds away from passing out again. He lifts a wobbly hand as if to ward Tony’s advance off, but he quickly loses his strength. His hand drops back down to the carpet, breath stalling in his chest. “No- no. S’okay.”

But Tony does anyway, and Ned has to sit down at the sudden nausea of seeing the red, infected wound underneath Peter’s sweater.

“Christ, kid. You’re literally going to be the death of me.”

“S’ry.”

With the grace of experience, Tony scoops Peter up into his arms. Something in the movement must be too much for Peter to handle because he slackens in the hold, eyes rolling back and his head tipping against Tony’s arm.

“Is he going to be okay?” Ned asks nervously.

“Just fine,” Tony assures. With a carefulness Ned would never associate with the hero, he cradles Peter’s limp head against his chest and tucks his hanging arm over his stomach. After running a careful hand across Peter’s hair, he must decide they’re ready for take off.

He pauses by the window, allowing the suit to recombine around him. “Thanks for calling me Ned. You did good.”

And just like that the pair is gone, leaving nothing but a distant draft, a paused video game, and a splotch of blood on the carpet behind. He almost thinks it’s a dream.

He falls back on his bed, his body numb with adrenaline. Tony freaking Stark was in his room. He’s worried for Peter, he really is, but despite it all he smiles.

“He finally got my name right!”

[lyssismagical]

15 or 94 for the angst/fluff prompts ✨💙

15 – “You betrayed my trust”

94 – “Don’t you give up on me”

 {TW for Car Crash}

“You can’t just do that!” Peter shouts, ripping off his mask to stare Tony down. He’s pissed and he’s not the starstruck kid he once was, too scared to step in the wrong direction around Tony, Tony’s too much of a father-figure now that Peter will show how pissed he is.

“I know what I said, kid, but I couldn’t let you do that,” Tony says, as calm as he can, but he’s obviously angry about this too. “You would’ve gotten yourself killed out there.”

Peter rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. “That’s not true and you know it. I know I used to be this stupid kid in a onesie to you, but I’ve learned how to take care of myself now. I don’t need you babysitting me.”

“I’m not babysitting, kid. I’m just watching out for you.”

“If you were watching out, you’d still be home, watching the fucking baby moniter feed. You wouldn’t have dragged out a suit and pulled me from the fight. I had it handled like I said I did.”

Tony sighs harshly, running a hand through his hair. “You have to understand that I was just trying to protect you.”

“I said I had it handled. I would’ve asked you if I didn’t think I could. I don’t need you to come swooping in every time I try to do anything myself!”

“I don’t want you to get hurt!”

“You’re not my dad!” Peter shouts, chest heaving. “You lied to me. You said you’d watch the baby moniter feed and let me handle it, but no, you flew out here to stop me. Again.”

Tony’s visibly angry now, voice lifting. “You didn’t have it handled! There were fifteen armed people in that building, Peter!”

“And I’ve dealt with more! I can’t be a superhero if you keep treating me like a child!”

“You are a child!”

“I’m seventeen for gods sake, Tony,” Peter says, already starting to back away towards the elevator. He just wants to go home before one of them says something they regret. “I don’t need you helicopter-parenting me.”

Tony rolls his eyes, letting out a harsh laugh. “I can’t helicopter-parent you if I’m not your dad, can I?”

“God, can you just admit you’re wrong for once?” Peter says, voice tipping into cold territory. He’s never once acted like this around Tony. He feels like he’s being the annoying teenage-stereotype, but he’s a superhero and Tony should let him act like one. Not keep him cooped up and dealing with cats in trees for the rest of his life.

“Can you just admit that you’re not ready for something like this?”

“You told me you’d stay home unless I asked you for help. I would’ve asked you if I needed you. I thought we’d gotten past this stupid phase when I beat the Vulture for you.”

It’s still a relatively sore topic, all things considered. Tony still feels a lot of guilt for Peter being alone that night, and Peter still deals with a lot of nightmares and panic attacks revolving around the warehouse collapse.

Tony sighs harshly again. “How many times have I had to save your ass after you refused to ask for help?”

“That’s not the point!” Peter shouts, angry all over again. “The point is that you betrayed my trust, Tony! The point is that you promised you’d let me handle this one alone unless I asked you for help, but you couldn’t even do that! Do you just not trust me?”

This is bordering too close to raw territory, real feelings, and that’s normally not easy for them, let alone when they’re angry and fighting.

“Fine,” Tony mutters, eyes dark and jaw clenched. “If you want me to stop helicopter-parenting you, I will. If you want me to let you dive into stupid fights and get yourself killed, go for it, I won’t stop you. See if I care.”

It’s not true, and Peter knows it. Tony cares about him a lot. Too much, probably. But the words still cut deep, and Peter’s never been a good arguer. He always ends up crying if conflict is too much.

So instead of making things any worse, Peter sends Tony one last glare before turning his back and heading for the elevator.

Peter’s driving now. He’s not the best driver, but he can do it. Plus, it saves Happy the long hours to and from the city for Peter. It makes everyone’s lives a little bit easier.

He doesn’t want to drive home. It’s raining now and the sky is dark, and it’s hard to see through his glassy eyes, tears threatening to fall. He almost turns back to the tower to say in his room for the night, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to face Tony again. He doesn’t want another fight.

He should’ve been smarter. He should’ve followed his gut to not drive back.

Maybe that would’ve changed the outcomes of the night.

Either way, the roads are slippery and Peter doesn’t see the truck run the red light. He certainly doesn’t see the way the truck loses control.

The last thing he does see is a flash of black as the truck slams into his tiny cheap car, and then the world goes dark.

*Tony stands in the hallway for a long time, staring at the discarded Spider-Man mask on the floor. Peter left in his suit, with a sweater and short pulled on over it like it would protect his identity at all.

He already regrets the things he said. He knows he should have faith in Peter’s capabilities. The kid’s strong and smart and he’s got a crazy expensive suit on his side. Tony should’ve trusted Peter, he knows.

But on the other hand, Tony can’t lose Peter. He can’t let something happen to his kid.

“Karen’s inactive so I’m incapable of getting a read on why, but Peter Parker’s vitals have fluctuated to dangerous levels,” Friday pipes up.

“What?” Tony asks, drawing his watch up to get look at them.

It isn’t clear why his heart rate has chaanged drastically or why his blood-oxygen levels are dropping, but it’s bad. It’s pretty obviously bad, so Tony summons a suit and takes off towards Peter’s last known location.

When he gets to the scene, Tony’s heart drops to his stomach, hands trembling as he tumbles out of his suit.

There are two ambulances, three police cars, a fire truck, and two tow trucks all surrounding the scene of the accident where Tony can just make out Peter’s little car, wrecked and smoking.

Tony had told Peter time and time again that he shouldn’t buy the shitty, old car off his neighbors, but Peter had been insistent. He wanted a car of his own, not one that Tony would buy for him. He wanted to have his own first shitty car.

And Tony let him as long as he promised they’d fix it up together.

They never really did.

“Sir, you can’t be here,” a woman tells him. She touches his arm gently, eyes focusing on him with concern. “We don’t need Iron Man’s help here.”

“No, not Iron Man, I’m just here as Tony,” he tries to explain. “That’s my kid’s car. That’s- He- He’s my kid, please.”

The woman nods carefully, glancing behind her at the wreckage. “We’re working on getting him out of the car and then you can ride with us to the hospital, alright? Just stay out of our way.”

“Yeah, yes, of course,” Tony blurts, voice shaking. “Just- Please, please let him know I’m here?”

All Tony’s allowed to do is wait on the sidelines.

A man’s dragged out of the truck. He looks alright, still able to stand on his own, only a little bit of blood on his temple and hands. His face is scrunched up in awful grief as he stares at Peter’s wrecked car, as he’s taken to one of the ambulances.

And then finally, finally, they get Peter out of the car.

All Tony can see is blood and he nearly throws up, stomach twisting as he sees the paramedics get Peter onto the stretcher and into the back of an ambulance.

The woman from earlier reappears and grabs his arm, leading him up and into the ambulance as well.

Tony can barely breathe as he reaches out and grabs Peter’s hand, trying his best not to cry. “I’m so sorry.”

Peter’s eyes are closed, skin an awful pale, blood staining every inch of him.

“I’m so sorry, kiddo,” Tony repeats quietly, accepting the washcloth and bucket offered to him and he starts carefully rinsing the blood off the kid, water turning pink. “Don’t you give up on me. Please. I’m sorry.”

Tony focuses on washing away Peter’s blood until they get to the hospital and he’s sat down on one of the uncomfortable chairs, left to call May and Pepper and Happy, let them know what happened and promising to keep them in the loop.

Time passes strangely and Tony doesn’t do much but sit there and silently hope that everything will be okay, guilt swelling within him for hours.

Until a nurse comes and leads him to the hospital room where Peter’s already awake, still looking too pale and hurt, but awake. Alive.

“Kid, I’m so sorry-”

“I know,” Peter says, reaching out one of his hands for Tony to take. “I didn’t really think you were being honest because I wasn’t either. I know you only do what you do to protect me.”

“And yet, you’re here because of me.”

Peter shakes his head, eyebrows creasing in confusion. “It’s nobody’s fault. The weather was bad, it was just an accident. We could spend forever pointing blame, but it’s okay. I’m not mad at you anymore.”

“I’m still sorry.”

And Peter smiles, bringing Tony’s hand up to his chest to hold it close. “I love you, Tony.”

“Yeah, I love you too, kid. Don’t ever scare me like that again, okay?”

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina  @spideygirl2003 @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @tonystarkweneedyou {Let me know if you want to be added or removed}

[bipabrena]

Beneath x the x Ice (AO3 HisoIllu fic) Chapter 5

A fic where there’s more to Illumi than meets the eye. Hisoka goes to great lengths to help him realise he deserves better than the Zoldycks and being a puppet to his parents, even at the expense of their friendship. Slow-burn HisoIllu. Read the whole thing here. 

X

Illumi stopped in his heel for a couple of seconds. He had to squint, to evaluate if the redhead that looked from side to side every now and then, leaning against the diner’s window, was Hisoka. His mouth formed a small “o”.

It really was.

He stuck his hands in his pockets, and approached him.

“Hisoka,” he called, halfway to the diner.

The redhead perked up, and looked at the direction the voice came from. He smiled as the assassin walked towards him.

“Illu ♥!”

The Zoldyck stopped, now face-to-face with the magician. He subtly scanned him from head-to-toe, even though he had already done that when walking to him. Hisoka was fashioning a teal cardigan with a grey sweater underneath, khaki pants, and a sage coloured scarf. His hair was layered down, and he wore no make-up.

“So,” Illumi broke the silence, “I take it you’re cold tonight.”

Hisoka’s shoulders shook in laughter. “I have no idea how you could tell. ♠”

Now it was the magician’s turn to eye the assassin. He fashioned the same clothing from lunch. His smile stretched.

“Hm?” Illumi inquired, noticing Hisoka’s foraging eyes.

“You’re looking lovely. You have an interesting fashion sense for an assassin, I must say. ♦”

“As do you,” Illumi replied. “You’re like a rainbow with all those colours on you.”

Hisoka was expecting the assassin to mention how he wasn’t wearing make-up, how his hair was down, or how he wasn’t dressed the way Illumi complained about days prior. Well, he was disappointed.

“Are we going to see the meteor shower here?” Illumi asked, knowing that a city was the worst place to see such an event due to the light pollution.

“Oh, you offend me, Illu. I’m not so cheap! ♠” he ran fingers through his hair, cheeky smile on his face. “I have a very nice night planned for us, you see. ♥”

“I understand,” Illumi replied. He enjoyed the way Hisoka looked right now. “I suppose I’ll allow you to lead the way.”

“Oh?” Hisoka brought his fist to his mouth, chuckling. “So, you’re a sub? ♦”

“What?” the assassin didn’t understand what he meant.

“Nothing,” Hisoka waved his hand with a grin, shrugging off his previous statement. If he had to explain the joke, it would obviously lose the humour. “Come on, Pacific Park is nearby. The meteor shower shouldn’t hit until midnight. ♣”

“What?” Illumi repeated.

Hisoka cast a backwards glance.

“That’s five hours, Hisoka. Why couldn’t we have met at nine as originally planned? Or ten?”

“I told you, Illu,” he smiled “I have a nice night planned for us. ♥”

Illumi blinked at him.

“Will you trust me? ♠”

“I’m hungry,” the assassin announced. “I skipped supper because of this, so food better be in your plans.”

Hisoka moaned, drawing the attention of people walking near-by. A mother tightened the grip on her daughter’s hand, walking faster to get away from the odd redhead.

Illumi seemed indifferent to yet another one of Hisoka's eccentric episodes.

Hisoka placed a hand on his chest. “You skipped supper for me?” He squinted his eyes in a long smile.

“I suppose so, yes.”

“Oh, Illu… ♥”

Illumi’s sight wandered, from side to side, eyeing every person walking past them. Two pedestrians, in particular, ogled Hisoka as if he were disgusting. For some reason, this upset Illumi.

“Are we leaving or not?” he asked.

“Yes, of course! ♥” Hisoka led the way.

Illumi followed. They walked for various minutes. The city lights gleamed their faces. They walked past people, pets, bars with neon signs—and during the entire trip, Illumi could see Hisoka talking.

He talked, and talked. He swirled his body, looked back at Illumi; always fashioning that cheeky smile. The Zoldyck followed Hisoka mindlessly, but he was, quite frankly, not listening to him. Then, they reached their destination. Pacific Park.

It was an amusement park located on the coast. It wasn’t large, but it was cosy, and housed very entertaining attractions. The most visually appealing ones, or, in other words, the first you would notice immediately, were the neon-lighted roller-coaster that whirled the park, and the Ferris wheel that sentinelled the ocean.

Hisoka was about to do a spectacular, charming introduction to the park, but Illumi beat him to it and spoke up first.

“Are we going to eat here?” Illumi asked.

Frankly, Hisoka wasn’t planning on taking Illumi to dine until ten. His original plan was to spend time together at the amusement park, ride some attractions, chat, attend one of the stage shows, to then dine at one of Illumi’s favourite restaurants. The final act of the night would be the meteor shower, which they would see on a lake five-miles from here.

He figured that, being isolated from the world as a child, Illumi was never taken to places like this. He thought it’d be interesting for the lonely assassin to experience it.

“Yes! ♥” Hisoka responded with pride. “But!” he emphasised, “not dinner per se, because first—"

“I don’t like this place,” Illumi decided.

“Sorry?” Hisoka didn’t appreciate being interrupted.

“I don’t want to eat here. What was the plan? To eat, then ride something? I would get nauseous. Or to ride something, then eat? I don’t see the fun. This is not a nice place to eat. I would’ve much preferred a restaurant.”

Hisoka felt offended over Illumi’s critiquing of his plan. Why couldn’t the assassin not be dense for once, and allow things to flow?

“Now, Illu, don’t be impatient!” he rose a hand. “We will dine, at Mirazur to be precise. However, the reservation is at ten, and don’t you agree it would be fun to do something else first? This is a spectacular place! ♠”

The assassin looked around. “I don’t see the big deal,” he lied. The place looked gorgeous, and he enjoyed the visually appealing night-lights.

Hisoka bolted towards Illumi, positioning himself behind him. He gently grabbed his shoulders. “There’s a lot to do! There are these rides,” he pointed to the rollercoaster and Ferris wheel, then a pirate ship on the far left, “there’s a shooting range,” he pointed to the distant right. “There are stage-shows up ahead,” he pointed to the front.

He rested both hands on Illumi’s right shoulder, and leaned his chin on them. “It will be fun. I promise. ♥” He smiled.

Illumi pierced him with his large and impassive, black eyes. He wondered why Hisoka was so close to his face. “Okay.”

“Good! ♦” Hisoka clapped once. “Let me give you a tour, shall we? But,” he rose a finger, “let’s get ice-cream first.”

Illumi’s eyebrows rose. “Ice-cream?”

“Yes. ♥”

“I am okay with that,” Illumi approved.

He loved sweets. Being thoroughly denied them as a child, he developed an itching need to consume them often. He would take advantage of this.

They approached one of the ice-cream stands. It was massive. There were several people in-line, and Illumi wished he could stick his needles in them to make them leave. By the way the assassin observed them, Hisoka was able to deduce, immediately, his intentions. He smiled. Suddenly, Illumi felt a gentle touch on his wrist. He looked to his left, where Hisoka stood.

“Now, now, Illu… don’t try anything funny. We’re in public. ♠”

“Who are you to say that? You moan in public all the time.”

“Mm, but that’s not the same as trying to kill people. ♣”

How ironic of Hisoka, of all people, to say such a thing.

“I wasn’t planning on killing them,” Illumi muttered. “Just make them leave.”

The magician grazed his thumb over the assassin’s wrist, much to the latter’s discomfort. “You are very lucky to have me,” Hisoka stated proudly. “Don’t fear, Illu, I will teach you how to behave in public! ♠”

“Excuse you?” Illumi interjected. “I very well know how to behave in public. Who are you to—” he stopped in his tracks.

Hisoka narrowed his eyes with a long smile.

He’s just trying to rile you up. It takes two to tango.

“You are correct,” Illumi looked forward.

“Ah?” Hisoka’s smile reverted, puzzled.

“Yes,” Illumi responded, not making any sense.

Hisoka opened his mouth to say something, but his dense friend interjected.

“I will have three scoops, all different flavours,” he announced. “What will you have?” he looked at Hisoka.

Oh, this man was so endearing. Hisoka could barely contain himself.

“Oh, Illu… ♥” his smile stretched.

“Hello,” the female cashier greeted.

“Oh, hello,” Hisoka boldly leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter. He bore a coquettish smile. “A banana split, no whipped cream. I want almonds for a topping. Please do sprinkle them everywhere. ♥”

Illumi caught the flustered look on the young cashier’s face. He supposed she wasn’t used to having such a charismatic, bold customer.

“And you, sir?” she looked at the assassin. His impossibly large, onyx eyes made her feel uneasy. He was quite attractive, but she’d rather look at the redhead that bore a much more inviting expression.

“I want a large ice-cream cone, three scoops. One cookies and cream, one caramel and one chocolate.”  

The cashier nodded, smiling. She announced the price, and Illumi sought his wallet to pay for his snack.

Hisoka stopped him in his tracks. “How silly of me! ♠” he slapped his forehead. “Did I not mention I would be the one to pay, Illu ♥?”

While his intention was to be the same old-fashioned, quirky Hisoka, the cashier couldn’t help but believe these two were a couple.

Illumi spoke, as impassive as ever. “No, thanks, Hisoka. I’ll pay for my own." He was about to hand the money, but Hisoka held his hand and pulled it down.

“I insist. ♥” He purred.

That whispery, half-growl tone definitely stirred something strange in Illumi’s belly. Hisoka was weird…

“Oh, well,” Illumi shrugged, getting off the line. If he had free ice-cream, better for him.

He walked towards one of the nearest attractions. His eye shifted from the ride to the sign. It was called “King’s Dominion,” a 305 foot drop-tower with a 72mph descent.

Currently, people were mounting the ride. It would begin shortly.

He felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned, and it was Hisoka, offering his ice-cream cone.

“Thanks,” Illumi muttered, eyes shifting back to the ride.

Hisoka noticed something curious. The more time passed, the more Illumi’s guard eased. Right now, he was alert enough to anticipate any sort of danger, but he was relaxed enough to enjoy his surroundings. In fact, he was so relaxed, he didn’t notice the way Hisoka was looking at him. Hisoka was fascinated, taking small spoons of his banana split.

He wasn’t paying attention to the crazy night-lights, the people screaming in near-by rides, or the people walking past them. His attention was, irrefutably, focused on no one but Illumi and Illumi alone.

The ride was about to commence. Illumi leaned forward expectantly.

“Illu,” Hisoka chuckled, “you haven’t tasted your ice-cream. ♦”

Illumi did not respond. He watched as the tower went up. He could see the people getting smaller and smaller, some wiggling their legs. His lips were parted, eager to find out what would happen next.

Hisoka never took his eyes off him.

The tower stopped. Faint “yeah”s and “whoo-s” could be heard from above.

Illumi quickly took a bite of his ice-cream, as to not miss a single second of what was about to occur. He licked his lips.

Hisoka was dying.

Then, screaming ensued. The tower dropped, and all Illumi could see was hands and feet wiggling in the air.

The ride stopped midway. The fascinated assassin gasped quietly.

Then, it went back up.

“Oh!” Illumi uttered, surprised.

It went back down. The motion was repeated three times, until the ride finally dropped for the last time, stopping. The riders unbuckled their belts, and ran to the exit, some quite tipsy.

Hisoka loved how disbelieving Illumi looked. In a way, he couldn’t understand how Illumi had never seen something like this before.

Illumi finally noticed the way Hisoka stared at him. He turned to look at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he smiled, taking a spoonful of his banana split. “You simply haven’t eaten your ice-cream yet. ♣”

“I took a bite,” Illumi refuted.

“Yes, but that’s not eating it. ♠” Hisoka repositioned his scarf. “It’s melting! ♥”

“Oh, yes,” Illumi agreed, looking at drops run down the cone. He licked the ice-cream, from the second scoop to the third. “That is very good,” he concluded.

“Yes, I can see… ♥” Hisoka hoped Illumi would continue doing such a gesture.

Illumi’s nose tickled. He inhaled, then sneezed gracefully. Hisoka couldn’t believe how he could look perfect doing even that. He felt something cold hit his shoes, and that’s when he saw Illumi’s ice-cream. The sudden movement made the scoops drop from the cone.

Illumi eyed it, and blinked. “Oh, no,” he stated, in the most monotone voice possible. He sounded robotic, and like he couldn't care less. But truly, he really was bummed his ice-cream fell. It was rather amusing to Hisoka how that hollow, robotic tone betrayed Illumi's words of despair. 

“That’s okay,” he shook off his feet, ignoring what just happened. “I can get you another one. ♦”

“No, but thanks,” Illumi announced, throwing the cone in the stand’s trash can. “I would like to ride something now.”

Ride me. Hisoka thought. “Mm. Would you like to ride that one? ♥” he pointed at the drop-tower they just observed.

“I believe so, yes.”

“Okay,” Hisoka grabbed a large spoonful of his ice-cream, and offered it to Illumi. ”Here! ♥”

Illumi stared for a couple of seconds. “What are you doing?”

“Hm? I’m offering you a spoonful of my ice-cream. ♣”

“Yes, I can see,” Illumi looked at the spoon. “But why?” his eyes shifted back to the redhead.

“It’s ice-cream, Illu. You dropped yours, and sharing is caring. Why wouldn’t you want it ♥?” he chuckled.

Illumi blinked at him.

“It’s not poisoned… ♠”

“Yes, but you ate from that spoon,” Illumi remarked.

“Sorry?” Hisoka pulled the spoon away from him.

“You put your mouth there. Why would I eat from there?”

Hisoka’s lips parted. Was Illumi implying he disgusted him? He felt very offended, something he didn’t know was possible for someone like him.

“Can we ride the drop-tower now?” Illumi asked.

“Go ahead, I’ll watch from here,” Hisoka stated, looking forward at the ride, eating the rejected spoonful of ice-cream.

“You’re not coming?” Illumi inquired.

“Well, I did just say I’d watch from here. That means I won’t go, no?” he kept the spoon in his mouth for a couple of seconds.

Illumi only began to notice something was off. Hisoka was acting different, all the sudden.

“You’re acting strange,” Illumi stated matter-of-factly.

“Ah,” is all Hisoka responded. He still looked forward, avoiding Illumi’s gaze.

“Oh!” the assassin brought his fist to his palm, believing he figured out what changed Hisoka’s mood. “I splattered ice-cream on your shoes. Is that why?”

Hisoka finally looked at him, lips pursed in annoyance. Illumi gazed at him expectantly, to which Hisoka could only laugh. Laugh at Illumi’s denseness, laugh at himself for feeling offended; laugh at how Illumi was making this night not-too-easy to enjoy the way Hisoka expected. It would be a waste of time trying to explain the simple-minded assassin why the magician felt offended to begin with.

“I haven’t finished this glorious treat, Illu, ♥” Hisoka chuckled, in attempts to lighten the mood again. “I can’t ride while eating it.”

“Oh,” Illumi felt silly for believing something was wrong to begin with. “I’ll wait for you.”

“Are you sure? ♦” the magician inquired.

“Yes.”

He waited in silence as Hisoka took his time eating his ice-cream. He was almost done, now eating the bananas. They watched a second round from the attraction.

“Okay. ♥” Hisoka threw the empty container.

They waited in line. Hisoka peeked at Illumi, who was blankly looking forward. He broke the silence by chuckling, drawing the assassin’s attention.

He tried to softly run fingers through Illumi’s hair, but the latter pulled back before he could touch him.

Oh, Illu… why must you make this so difficult? “You should tie your hair, otherwise it’ll be rather uncomfortable. ♣”

“Oh,” Illumi muttered. “I didn’t bring a hair-tie.”

“What about your needles? ♦”

“They’re a bother to tie my hair with,” he brought his hair up and gathered it around itself to make a bun. "But I suppose I've no other choice," he kept it in place with two needles.

He looked intimidating, but in an enigmatic, attractive way. And Hisoka loved it.

“Mm. Scary. ♥” Hisoka purred, observing him intently.

There it was again. That tone, and the slight narrowing of Hisoka’s golden eyes. It stirred something in Illumi, something he couldn’t identify. A strange, warm feeling.

They were next.

Hisoka was incredibly excited, hoping that the vertigo would produce an expression in Illumi. Oh, he couldn’t wait!

They sat next to each other and buckled their belts, waiting for everyone else to accommodate. Hisoka looked like an excited child, which Illumi found amusing. Could he blame him, though? The assassin felt a dull hint of excitement himself.

They went up.

Hisoka held Illumi’s hand, and rose his arm. Illumi immediately pulled it back. “What are you doing?”

“Put your hands up, Illu! ♥” Hisoka smiled. “It makes it more fun,” He insisted, grabbing his hand again.

Hisoka’s long, slender fingers felt warm and delicate wrapped around Illumi’s. It was odd to the assassin how these deadly fingers capable of crushing bone and stone could feel so… inviting.

He complied.

The ride, now at the top, remained still for five seconds.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Illumi heard piercing screams, and wind abruptly hit his face. A tingly sensation overcame his stomach, but his expression remained the same. It felt similar to when he jumped off a building. He suddenly felt squeezing in his hand, and recalled Hisoka was holding it. He turned to look at the redhead, and found a strange child-like innocence in him.

Hisoka bore a huge grin, his scarf flew up his face. He swung his legs, yelling “whoo-s". He looked relaxed, and happy. Illumi found it strange, but endearing. He found himself, reflexively, squeezing his hand back. Had you asked Illumi why he did it, he wouldn’t know what to reply. His answer would simply be “because it felt right.” 

Read the rest of the chapter here.

[demialwrites]

Fallen Angel, Down to Earth

Fuck me, things have been rough with my mental health lately. So I slowly nurtured this fic. It was relaxing to write so it’s not too exciting. It’s a nice length, tho!

Hanging upside-down was more awkward than you previously thought. Especially since one of the biggest heroes of Wutai was the one holding you up. By the ankle and you were sure his hand was made of iron by the way he gripped you. If anyone saw Sephiroth holding you from plummetting to your death over a cliff, the story would spread like a nasty fart until everyone in Shinra knew. And laughed. You would have laughed, too.

You pled silently with him to put you down. You would have spoke the words but the hero himself but you were too engrossed in checking him out up-close. You did that instead, brows knitted in concentration. He did wear more belts than he needed to. His long, silver hair was glorious. And his eyes were a spring green that you'd never seen before. His black slit pupils dilated when your eyes met and you shivered. "Please, put me down, Sir!" you blurted. He smirked slightly before doing as you asked, giving his full bottom lip extra curve. He was surprisingly gentle, not just dropping you to the hard ground. "Are you hurt?" he asked. You sprang up, rapidly patting yourself down for injuries. You came up with nothing but extra dirt. "No!" Another slight smile. "Good." He turned from you and walked away. You stood there for a second before you realized he expected you to follow without being asked. You hurried up to his side. "So what do we do now?" "We find everyone else." Oh, right. You forgot you got separated from the rest while you were falling off the cliff. "Where could they be?" you wondered aloud. "I don't know. This shouldn't have happened." You followed Sephiroth around for a while, with no one in sight. You almost followed him around a corner when he quickly doubled back a step, shoving you back, also. "What?" you hissed quietly. He whipped around, hair brushing your knee. He squeezed your shoulder and put a finger to his lips. His pupils were wide again. You got lost in their blackness until a procession of bomb monsters floating past caught your eyes. They came from where you were heading. It was a much bigger group than you were used to. If not for Sephiroth's presence, you would have been terrified. You were hyper-aware of his hand still gripping your shoulder. He let go when he felt it was safe, checking around the corner again. You put your hand where his used to be. "C'mon," he said. You joined his side again. "Why didn't you just kill them...if you don't mind me asking, Sir." "There were too many for me to guarantee that I could keep you alive." Your shoulders relaxed down. "Ahhhh. That's nice." "I thought you might like that," he teased. To you, Sephiroth was just wandering around. But he pointed out evidence on the ground that proved otherwise. Bootprints and such. It surprised you how knowledgeable he was. He followed the trail until you started yawning. You tried to hide it. "The excitement of nearly dying probably tired you out," he said. "Let's stop for the night." As much as you wanted to keep going and return sooner to a warm, comfortable bed, at least you got more time with Sephiroth. Maybe you would learn more about him. He told you to set up camp while he took care of the fire to keep the chill at bay. You put down your bedroll, then looked up to find him lighting a suspiciously thick pile of branches with fire materia. Like he had snapped small trees in half. After some bland rations, you both settled down to rest. You got into your bedroll while he sat on top of his. You wanted to ask him about himself but the warmth from the fire was making you drowsy. He was gazing up at the clear and starry sky. You looked up as well. You gazed along with him in silence, the stars reminding you that the planet was spinning slowly on its axis while it orbited the sun. A massive, round cradle for all the tiny living beings on its surface. You yawned, the drowsiness increasing. So easy to lay your head down on that cradle and sleep like a baby. This experience with Sephiroth soothed away some of the intimidation you held before and you hoped you would get to work with him again. He did you a favour and found you himself in the halls first. "Hey, Sir!" "Hey," he replied. "I know you want to avoid the humiliation of everyone finding out what happened at the cliff. I'll omit from my report what exactly happened if you go on a date with me." "You don't date!" you blurted without thinking. It was always what you heard. He'd been asked many times and always turned them down. He was just teasing you. "You're cute when you're flustered. Are you turning me down?" He didn't seem concerned with your answer, just gazed at you with that same smirk as when he held you over the cliff. It had a softened, dreamier edge. It wasn't aimed at your eyes but lower. Your lips or maybe your body. You were still confused but had no reason to say no. "Yes, I guess..?" His gaze jumped back up to your eyes. "Alright, then. Where should we go? Normally, I'm too busy to go anywhere for fun." You suggested your favourite spots to eat. You would love to hear his opinion. He shook his head; too many people would bother him. That left you stumped. "I want to see your place," he said. "Show me how you live." "Me? It would bore you." "I'm curious." He leaned down closer. "Humour me." Your heart beat faster, butterflies went nuts in your stomach, and you agreed. On the night of the date, death was at your door. He had glowing green eyes. Actually, it was Sephiroth in black with the hood up on his hoodie. You smiled, laughing inwardly at yourself. His shadowed face unnerved you at first but you couldn't be surprised at his fashion choices based on his battle gear. The zipper on the hoodie was down halfway, showing a grey shirt. Black jeans and boots completed the outfit. He pulled the hood down and all of his hair out of the back of the sweater where it had been tucked and looked relieved. You assumed he didn't want to deal with anyone who would recognize him off the Soldier recruitment posters and didn't question it. He held out a white plastic bag that was tied at the top like takeout normally was. That got you a little excited. "I had one of the cafeteria chefs make something similar to the food you mentioned." "And they just did that for you?" He shrugged. "Yes." Like it was a normal occurrence. You wanted to peek inside the bag of takeout but instead, took it to the dining table. Instead of following, Sephiroth got distracted in the area just inside your door. "What's this?" he asked, picking up a knickknack and inspecting it. "Oh, I..." Sephiroth went around, picking up or pointing out various items with which decorated your apartment. You explained how you got each one and what drew you to it. It was like a child using a magnifying glass just to see how things look in more detail. Maybe this was his version of fun. You looked for an opening to turn it around and ask /him/ something but you couldn't bring yourself to interrupt. "Why don't we eat?" he finally said, turning from your personal items with a satisfied look. You embarrassed yourself by sneaking glances at his full, curvy lips while he sucked in noodles from his portion of the takeout. The date was looking up. A good view and the heavenly slide of greasy chow mein down your throat. Mmmm, fat. The cafeteria chefs didn't skimp on the meat and vegetables, either. Sephiroth finished his portion with a healthy appetite and said, "Not bad." There was an awkward moment until he told you he wanted to see what you normally did on a night like this. You thought, No, that's boring. I'm boring. How is he not bored yet? His expectant look won over. You went to your bathroom to grab some items. You came back and placed a couple of sheet masks on the table. He picked one up and eagerly read the package. "I see. Is this like a hair mask?" "Yeah!" You lit up with a smile, thankful that he caught on quickly. "I use those." "What?" "Surprised? This hair requires a lot of maintenance." He said that so casually but you couldn't picture him lovingly brushing and styling his hair. Either way, you had an out-of-body experience when Sephiroth, the most famous hero of Shinra, ripped open the mask and applied it carefully. Thankfully, your real body was numb enough without your soul to follow suit and put on your own mask on autopilot. Since he was wearing the mask, you decided it wasn't so bad to do the other thing you normally did on work nights; watch TV. You made a guess that he would want to watch a documentary because he spent all evening soaking up information. Turns out it was a good choice. He commented often that he had been to the various places filmed and how easily he had dispatched any monsters shown. It reminded you who you sat next to and you were glad he was friendly. You were starting to get sleepy from the all carbs and the late hour. Sephiroth, in contrast, seemed like he could stare unblinking at the TV screen forever. You shrugged inwardly; it was weird but least he was easy to please. Staring at him, it struck you that this entire time you wanted to see him humanized. Not the untouchable hero from the recruitment posters. This date had done just that. He was weird but who wasn't a little? You smiled at him. "This was a good date," you told him. He returned the smile. "I'm glad you think so." He held his hand out, palm-up. You put your hand on top. He closed his fingers and rested your two hands on his thigh. You fell asleep. Sephiroth let you sleep until he decided it was your bedtime. He nudged you awake and guided your half-asleep self to your bed.