#sometimes it helps if you pointedly only feed them after dinner

[amazingmsme]

Dare to be Bold

AN: Wowie this was a lot longer than I intended it to be, at almost 10k words! I loved writing this so much, it was a blast. Thanks for the prompts y’all, you help me feed my critical role fixation. Spent all day reading & tweaking this, so here it is fresh outta the oven!

The Mighty Nein were all intrigued by Essek to say the least. He was mild mannered, composed, quiet, and nice enough... There had to be another side to him, one where he wasn't the perfect image that he portrayed when people were around. He had to relax and let his guard down sometime. He had to act like a real person instead of the stuffy shadowhand charged with keeping tabs on them.

He only ever stopped by on business. Checking up on them, giving them a new task; it was never just to hang out. The longest he'd stay at their house was to teach Caleb new spells, and the fellow wizard was the only one he'd spend quality time with.

There had to be more to him. He has a favorite food, a favorite song, a secret birthmark somewhere, he has his own life separate from work. Or at least that's what Jester was sure of. She really wanted him to be their friend instead of strictly business partners, but he seemed dead set of keeping their relationship distant and professional. He was gathering his things and was about to head out the door when Jester spoke up.

"How come you never stay? I feel like I barely know you," she mused, propping her face in her hands. He let out a warm chuckle.

"And I'd prefer to keep it that way. I'm a busy man, surely you understand," he said with a small smile.

"What's your favorite color?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. His patient smile grew slightly more genuine. "Navy blue."

"What's your favorite season?"

"I don't think I have one, really."

"What's like, the weirdest dream you've ever had?"

"Does she always ask this many questions?" Essek asked with slight amusement.

"Ah, only sometimes," Caleb said, sharing an amused look with Jester. She just beamed up at him.

"Well I want to know some things about him. I'm sorry Essek, but right now your personality is like cardboard." Caleb's jaw dropped in disbelief and embarrassment as Essek dipped his head down to try and hide his amusement.

"Jester!"

"What? It's the truth, he always acts so proper and boring, like it's such a chore to come see us," she whined.

"That's because it is his job," Caleb said, fixing her with a look. She merely giggled.

"It's alright Caleb. I'm just, more serious and professional than what you're used to," he said to Jester.

"Hey, I can be serious too ya know," she said, schooling her features into a tough expression. Essek merely nodded, eyebrows raised.

"Oh I'm sure you are. After all, I don't think you all could survive the work you do if you were so foolish all the time," he teased. She scoffed indignantly, but a wide smile was in place.

"Wow, I didn't think you even knew how to tease someone. That was really good," she giggled, holding out her hand for a high five. He looked at her hand, casting a quick glance at Caleb before turning away and opening the door.

"Yes well, thank you. Have a good day."

"Why not stay for dinner? You've never taken us up on the offer and Caduceus is a really good cook."

"I'm afraid I'm busy tonight. But I have another lesson with Caleb tomorrow, I'll see if I can clear my schedule then." She gasped and jumped up from her seat in excitement.

"Oh my gosh, really? Waaait... you're not just saying that to make me shut up, are you?" she asked incredulously. Caleb shot her another look, which she ignored.

"Not at all Miss Lavorre. I am a man of my word," he said.

"Alright, leave him be, you've pestered him long enough," Caleb chastised.

"You just want him all to yourself so he can teach you cool wizard shit," she said pointedly.

"Exactly. Now shoo," he teased, waving her away.

"Bye Essek!" she chirped, rushing forth to wrap him in a hug before he could escape. He let out a startled laugh, hesitantly wrapping his arms around her and giving her back an awkward pat.

"Ah that's right you are rather... affectionate," he said, pausing to find the right word.

"Damn right I am!" She punctuate her words with a playful poke to his side, causing him to stiffen up and suck in a startled breath.

"Right then. S-see you tomorrow," he said, slipping out of her grasp and through the door with little more than a wave. When Caleb turned back around, Jester was staring at him with an excited, shocked expression.

"Uh oh, that's never a good look," he said, meeting her gaze.

"Caleb, did you see what I just saw?" she asked excitedly.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and say no."

"I think Essek might be ticklish!" she exclaimed. Caleb did a double take towards the door, blinking in confusion. He turned back to her, brows furrowed and smirking.

"I'm sorry, you lost me. Just how did you come to this conclusion?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Just now when I poked him, he jerked away and got like, super still. And I heard him gasp like he wanted to laugh but was holding back," she explained. Caleb rubbed his temple.

"Or more likely, he is a man of great importance and high status and is not accustom to weirdos like us touching him all the time, ja? I like my reasoning better." She rolled her eye with a pout.

"Oh come on Caleb, don't be such a buzz kill! Mama always said, everyone's ticklish somewhere, you just gotta try the right spot!" Caleb's eyes went wide and he shook his head.

"Nein Jester, I know what you're thinking. You cannot test this out," he said sternly. Jester deflated.

"But whyyyy?"

"Many reasons why. For starters, he could put in a bad word with the Bright Queen. He is a powerful and well respected man who deserves that respect, and who might retaliate if we upset him. He could kick us out of this new lovely home, or punish us for crossing a boundary-"

"Wow Caleb, could you come up with any more bad scenarios?" she asked in a mocking tone.

"I am merely thinking logically."

"But he stuttered Caleb! When has he ever stuttered?" she asked, desperate to make her point. Caleb cocked his head in thought.

"Never. Okay, so maybe you have a point. But you can't just go after him out of the blue like this," he decided.

"Okay but what if, like, someone he liked tested it out?" she asked innocently.

"Then that excludes all of us, case closed," he said pointedly.

"Well, he seems to like you..." she said sweetly, swaying from side to side. Realization dawned on Caleb's face and he shook his head.

"Oh no. No, I will not be a pawn in this little game of yours."

"Pleeeeaaaase? He'd probably like, break my wrist if I even tried."

"Ja, and I don't want mine to be broken either," he scolded.

"He'd never do that to you though. You two have this growing bond, I can sense these things." Her words caused a blush to spread over his cheeks, lips pressed together.

"N-no, I don't know what you think we do in there but it is strictly work. He's taught me a few spells and we talk about magic. That is the extent of our relationship," he said.

"Wow, you two sound like the most boring people ever," she said, flipping a lock of hair. Caleb scoffed, shoving her lightly.

"I'll have you know it's actually very fascinating."

"Not as fascinating as the fact he might be ticklish!" Jester insisted. Beauregard and Fjord just happened to be walking by and inserted themselves into the conversation.

"Who, Caleb?" Beau teased, scratching along his sides from behind making him squeal and arch his back. He shot her a glare as they all laughed.

"No silly, everyone knows Caleb's ticklish," Jester giggled, causing a noise of protest from said wizard. "I'm talking about Essek!" This piqued both their interests.

"No fuckin' way, Essek's ticklish?" Beauregard asked, excitement and disbelief clear in her voice. She wore a wide, dangerous smile and a mischievous gleam in her eye.

"Weeeell, we don't actually know like, for sure, but he totally squeaked when I poked him! I was just convincing Caleb to try it out tomorrow when he has his next lesson," she chirped.

"Ah, you were not convincing me of doing anything," Caleb denied. The monk sighed, shoulders sagging in disappointment.

"C'mon man, what's the worst that could happen? Just, y'know, take one of your quills and run it over those stupid long ears of his, it's not that hard," she reasoned.

"For starters, he could get very mad at me and never share any spells with me ever again. Or worse, he could use them against me. You seem to have forgotten that he has the potential to be a very dangerous man, a man who we know next to nothing about," Caleb insisted. "Fjord, back me up on this."

Fjord was quietly listening, mulling over the possibilities in his head. "You've got a point, we don't really know what he's about."

"See?" Caleb said, gesturing to Fjord and giving both Jester and Beauregard a smug, "I'm right" look. A look that faded upon hearing the following words from Fjord's mouth.

"Which is why I think it would be interesting if we were to find out," he continued with a smirk. Jester yelled in triumph and gave him a high five that left a satisfying sting.

"I don't think there'd be any harm in finding out," Beau shrugged.

"Well I do."

"Come on Caleb, don't be such a stick in the mud. I dare you to tickle Essek tomorrow," Jester said, grinning so wide her face was practically split in two. Caleb's eyes bugged out of his head, a red blush painting his cheeks.

"Excuse me?"

"I double dog dare you!" she cried, tail wagging mischievously behind her.

"Nein," he shook his head, adamant in his stance.

"I triple dog dare you!"

Caleb was unable to fight off the amused smile on his face. "Still no."

"It's okay Caleb. I don't think any of us actually thought you'd go through with it anyways," Beauregard said in a patronizing tone, patting his back. He reared back to look at her.

"And what the hell does that mean?"

She tilted her head side to side, shoulders hunched slightly. "Eeeehh, nothing. But you're not exactly known for being bold and playful."

"Well fuck you too, I'm plenty bold," he snapped defensively. Fjord was quick to diffuse the situation.

"Uh, what I think Beau means is that you're not one to stir the pot. Unless of course you're provoked," he winked, slinging an arm over his shoulders and giving him a gentle shake.

"And are you trying to provoke me right now?" he asked, arching a brow. Fjord would be lying if he said the anxious twitch of Caleb's fingers didn't awaken his fight or flight instinct.

"Why don't you keep that energy focused on Essek," he advised, stepping away from him nonetheless.

"See Caleb? You're totally a tickle monster when you want to be!" Jester cooed. His blush returned and he adverted his gaze to the ground, but he sported a sly smile.

"I know, you speak from experience," he teased. Jester let out a muffled squeak, wrapping her arms around her belly.

"Shut uuuup! This isn't about me!"

"Honestly, I don't even know why you all care so much. Fine, I will ask him."

Beauregard shook her head, arms crossed over her chest. "Uh uh, he'll just lie. You gotta test it." The smirk she wore was downright wicked, and Caleb was relieved that it wasn't directed at him for once.

"Sheisse. Alright I will. Are you happy now?" he asked, more frustrated and flustered than he was at the beginning of this conversation.

"I'll be satisfied if you actually go through with it."

"What, do you think I'm going to chicken out or something?"

"Uh yeah, that's exactly what I think," Beau said with a wide, teasing grin. "In fact, I bet five gold you won't actually do it," she said smugly.

"I'll second that," Fjord said with a nod, raising two fingers to signal that he was in on the bet as well. Caleb stared between them in shock.

"Are you serious right now?" he asked, mouth slightly agape.

"Dead serious."

"Good, as am I. Tomorrow, you will see that I didn't chicken out and I will be ten gold richer," he said matter of factly.

"We'll see about that," Fjord joined in on the teasing.

"Just wait, at around 3:30 you will most likely hear a lot of laughter come from my room. And if you don't, assume he killed me for even trying," he said, only half joking.

"That's the spirit! Oooh I can't wait!" Jester cried with excitement.

Of course she immediately rushed off to spread the news to the rest of their group, giddy with excitement. Needless to say, everyone was eager to find out what would happen the following day. Tomorrow came soon enough, and when Essek arrived, he immediately picked up on the energy in the house. There was almost a tangible excitement buzzing in the air and he looked around the entryway with a judging eye. It was no surprise that Jester was the first to greet him.

"Helloooo how are you todaaaay?" she asked in her usual quirky drawl.

"I am fine," he hummed, continuing to scan his surroundings. Jester gave a small pout.

"You don't look fine, you look all grumpy," she pointed out.

"Just have a lot on my mind I suppose. Where's Caleb?"

"Right here," Caleb said, walking down the stairs. "Sorry, I was setting things up," he apologized. His hair was a bit disheveled and he couldn't tear his eyes away from the shadowhand. If he seemed more anxious than usual, Essek didn't comment on it.

"No worries. Let's get started then, shall we?" Caleb gave a curt nod, leading him up to his room. "Are we not studying in the tower today?" Essek asked.

"Nein, I am feeling a little lazy today, I'd rather stay in my room," he lied easily. The real reason being that he promised the rest of the mighty nein that he would keep them within earshot to prove he actually followed through.

"Not too lazy to learn I hope," Essek said, unamused.

"I could never be too lazy for that," he replied, a wide grin in place. They reached his door and Caleb held it open for him, allowing Essek to walk in first.

"Hm, your room is just as tidy and drab as I imagined it," he hummed, walking over to the desk. Caleb blushed at the backhanded compliment, fumbling for words.

"W-well we haven't had the chance to get much decor," he reasoned. After that snide little comment, he couldn't wait for 3:30.

"Your friends seemed... excited about something," Essek spoke up as he laid out various scrolls and spell components. He watched carefully as Caleb went a little stiff. "Any particular reason?"

"Not that I'm aware of, but they are an excitable bunch, ja?" Essek looked him up and down with a hum.

"Indeed. Well, we shouldn't waste much time. Let's get to it, shall we?" he asked, pulling a chair next to the bed where all the pages were spread out. Caleb's desk was a little small for what they had planned for today. Caleb himself sat on the bed, propped up with pillows with his legs stretched out.

"You can sit on the bed if you'd like, it's more comfortable than that chair," he invited, figuring this would be easier if he started warming up to him now.

"Uh, thank you but the chair is more than fine." Caleb had to shift the page he was holding to hide his smirk. Before he had arrived, Caleb had cast a simple spell on the chair to make it more uncomfortable the longer you sat in it. He was quite proud of it. That chair wouldn't be "fine" for very long.

"You're looking rather smug. Mind sharing with the class?" Essek asked, cocking his head to the side. Caleb startled at the question. He couldn't get caught this early, money (and his pride) was on the line.

"I am just a little... giddy about today's lesson. A lot of pranking potential in making objects lose their gravity," he mused. It was easier to lie because there was so much truth wrapped in his words. Essek let out a smooth, practiced chuckle and shook his head.

"I didn't picture you as the pranking type," he mused.

"That's because you don't know me," Caleb said, being so bold as to shoot him a wink. Essek blinked in suprise, looking him up and down.

"Hm, I suppose I don't." He went back to the pages of spells in front of them, but before he could continue with his teachings, Caleb spoke up once more.

"I have to be."

"What was that?" Essek asked without looking up.

Caleb continued, "I have to be the pranking type if I am to fit in with the group. I must admit, it is fun. It makes me feel normal again, and less like the man I have become." He now had Essek's full attention, his expression hard to read.

"And who is that man?" he asked, leaning forward. Caleb noticed him shifting in the chair uncomfortably, trying to find a better position.

"I thought I knew, but now I'm not as sure," he said, staring deep into his eyes.

It took a moment for Essek to answer. "You are a powerful man, Mr. Widogast. You're practically dripping with potential, I can see what the Assembly saw in you. But you must be careful who you let shape you. And while this group you've found yourself in is... eccentric, I can tell they have been good for you."

Well this suddenly got personal. A little too personal for Caleb's liking, but his words did offer a comfort. "Thank you, Herr Thelyss," he said with a soft smile. "But please call me Caleb. Mr. Widogast doesn't sound right," he said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Essek returned it with a smug smile of his own.

"In that case, just call me Essek. I think we're well past the point of formalities."

You have no idea, Caleb wanted to say, but he was smart enough to keep that to himself. Essek's face scrunched up in discomfort, wiggling in the seat. When that still didn't work, he crossed one leg over the other, then crossed them the other way. With a defeated huff, he pushed the chair away and sat on the edge of the bed. His posture was ramrod straight, his body tense as he sat as far from Caleb as he could.

He rolled his eyes, clearing a larger space and patting the spot next to him. "Sheisse, you act as though I'll burn you if you get too close. I don't bite," he teased. Essek let out a nervous chuckle, conceding by resting his legs on the mattress, stretched out in front of him.

"I'd be concerned if you did," he teased right back.

"Jester will be pleased to know you actually have a sense of humor," he mused as he copied a spell.

"Was that ever up for debate?" he asked incredulously.

"Oh you'd be surprised."

"I'll have you know I can be quite hilarious," he insisted.

"I'll believe it when I see it," he countered smugly. Essek scoffed and bumped their shoulders together, making Caleb's smile grow. Caleb glanced down at his feet, brows furrowing.

"No shoes on the bed please. I know your feet never touch the ground, but still," he requested. Essek complied, easily slipping them off. He set them off to the side with a wave of his hand.

"Of course, it is your room after all." Perhaps this was going to be easier than he thought.

They study for an hour and a half, Essek teaching and explaining a few new spells. 15 minutes left until 3:30... Within their study session, he's been twitchy and restless. His leg shook as he recited the verbal components of one of the spells, Essek's eyes glued to his movements.

"You're quite fidgety for someone claiming to be so lazy," he noted. Caleb immediately forced his leg to still, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

"Ah, just some pent up energy I suppose," he excused. They both jumped out of their skin when a knock rapped against the door.

"Who is it?" Caleb asked, scrambling off the bed the same time the door opened.

"It's just me- oh. Don't you two look cozy," Caduceus said in his usual calm, polite manner. Both wizards were blushing profusely, Caleb in the middle of crawling over Essek's legs in an attempt to go open the door before he came in. It left them in quite the position.

"What do you want Caduceus?" Caleb hissed. He had told all of them to leave them alone! And he had been sure he'd locked his door.

"I come bearing refreshments," he said, holding up a tray with two glasses on top. "It's a new blend of green tea and jasmine, mixed with some fresh lemonade." Caleb sighed, pressing his fingers to his temple and rubbing as he walked over to his friend. He took the glasses from him.

"Thank you Caduceus, but I would appreciate it if you would wait for me to open the door next time, ja?" he asked, annoyance laced in his voice.

"Sorry, I didn't know what I was walking in on," he apologized. Caleb's blush returned as he escorted him out.

"You walked in on nothing! We are just studying, now please leave I have a lot of work to do." Then, quietly he leaned in and whisper-scolded, "Do you know what time it is? Leave me be I need privacy!"

"Again, sorry to interrupt. I just know how much la- er, spell casting works up a thirst. Mhm, sorry, tickle in my throat," he feigned clearing his throat, winking at Caleb as he left. Essek watched with a scrutinizing gaze, studying Caleb a little closer. He seemed more frazzled than earlier, but then again so would anyone if they'd been walked in on in such a manner.

"What was that?" he asked, fixing him with a studious glare and a raised brow.

"Nothing, y-you know how Caduceus is," he brushed off the question not as smoothly as he hoped. When Essek didn't reply, he rambled on, "Always checking up on people." He hesitated before walking back over to his bed. Essek scooted over against the wall so that Caleb wouldn't have to climb over him to get in his previous seat.

"What were the two of you whispering about?" Essek asked once he settled back down. Caleb refused to meet his eyes.

"Nothing. I was just, ah, getting onto him for barging in here like that."

"Is that so?" he questioned further.

"Ya, it is," he insisted, using all the strength he had not to back down. Essek merely hummed, going back to his teachings. He seemed more guarded and weary of him than before.

Caleb knew the moment 3:30 hit. Now or never. He tried to go about it subtly, reaching down to grab his knee as he shifted his position on the bed. Essek jerked away with a startled gasp.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, hand clasped tightly around his wrist. Maybe he would break it...

"Um, getting comfy. Sorry, I didn't mean to touch you," he apologized, but couldn't hide the growing smirk.

"Is that why you're smiling like an idiot then?" he asked, his former amusement flown out the window. Caleb blushed, said smile wiped from his face. For good measure, he hid his mouth behind his hand.

Now that he was being all huffy, Essek was really getting on his nerves. He deserved every bit of this, he justified. And so Caleb reached up to scratch along his beard, holding his long feather quill as he did so. Watching from the corner of his eye, he made sure to run it over the shell of Essek's ear, just like Beau said. And it was worth it.

Essek jerked away with a surprised yelp, fixing him with a death glare. Caleb continued to act innocent, scratching his chin. When he "noticed" his harsh look he froze, looking at his hand and the soft feather held between two fingers. He gave a sheepish grin.

"Ah, sorry I didn't realize I was still holding it. I didn't mean to tickle you," he apologized. Essek sputtered, a soft purple blush spreading over his cheeks.

"You did no such thing, so no apology necessary," he lied. Caleb tilted his head to look at him.

"You sure about that? You acted pretty ticklish to me. And trust me, I've been around the Nein long enough to know what that looks like," he teased, but also gave him a chance to revoke his lie.

"Well I am not, and I suggest you keep your hands to yourself," he advised in a harsh tone.

"Okaaay," he said, going back to his work. He grumbled under his breath, "Seemed pretty ticklish though," he said more to himself than anything.

"Well I'm not, so drop it," he demanded. Caleb's eyes widened, not expecting the shadowhand to be so defensive. As if to challenge him, he raised the feather once more and gave his ear another swipe. This time, a short giggle followed.

"Surely you of all people know that lying is a punishable offense," he teased. Essek scrunched his shoulders up high in an attempt to block his horrible touches.

"Nohohot for mehe!" he scolded through giggles, reaching up to snatch Caleb's wrist. He didn't try to struggle or pull away, but rather leaned in closer. The stern anger on Essek's face melted to nervousness as he leaned away.

"Are you saying that you are above the consequences of your actions?" Caleb asked, a growing smirk overtaking his features.

"N-no, no one is-" Caleb cut him off with another flutter of the feather to his ear. An uncharacteristically high pitched giggle escaped him as realization dawned on him. He was trapped. This whole thing was a trap. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you had planned this from the beginning," he accused.

"As usual you are right." Before Essek could react, Caleb's hand darted down to his knee and squeezed. Much to his delight and Essek's horror, he snorted very loud. His eyes went wide, both hands covering his mouth in shock. Caleb was grinning ear to ear, letting out a few snickers of his own, the bastard. He went back to squeezing his knee, this time going after both of them. He let out a slightly muffled squeak before falling victim to a fit of loud laughter.

"Stohohop this ahahat once!" he demanded, trying to scamper away on the bed. Caleb grabbed his legs to keep him in place, but allowed him a moment to catch his breath. "Alright, but only for a second."

"Whahat the fuck do you think you're doing?" Essek hissed, reaching to try and pry his grip loose. His grip was surprisingly strong.

"Tickling you, what else?" he asked nonchalantly, as if it was the stupidest question in the world. To make matters worse, he reached under him to scribble the backs of his knees as he asked. Essek snorted again before bursting into melodious laughter, tucking his knees in and managed to roll onto his side. His cheeks were growing a darker shade of purple before he grabbed his shirt's collar and pulled it up to hide his face.

"Oh no you don't. You can't hide from me," he tsked, pulling it back down. He used the opportunity to scratch under his chin, earning a giggly shriek. His chin slammed down to the base of his neck, trapping Caleb's fingers. His nose scrunched up as giggles and snickers continued to pour from his mouth.

"Hehe, you look like you have a double chin right now," he teased, wiggling his trapped fingers. There was a flash of anger for a brief second before utter embarrassment took over. He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at Caleb's dumb, happy, smug face. Okay, maybe he peaked every few seconds.

"Quit ihihit or ehelse you'll rehehegret being bohohorn!" he threatened. He was as intimidating as anyone in that position would be. Caleb knew in the back of his mind that he should heed the warning. That's what the last shred of self preservation he does have tells him. But if he doesn't listen to that part of his brain in a life threatening fight, there's no way he'd listen to it now when he's having this much fun.

"Already way ahead of you," he joked at his own expense, shifting Essek's legs into a headlock. Essek's brows shot up to meet his hairline, frantically shaking his head. "I bet these are rather sensitive seeing as you never bother to use them," he taunted, scratching up his arches.

"Why ahahare you dohohoing thihis? Ihihi thought you wehere mature!" he cried out indignantly. His head was tossed back as hysterical laughter flew from his open mouthed smile.

"I have my pride and 10 gold on the line. You understand," he shrugged, not seeming apologetic at all. Ah, so it was some sort of bet. Blunt nails scratched at his heels and he kicked out as much as he could. "Wow, you're feet are very soft. Did you know that?" Caleb asked, and you could just hear the joy in his voice.

"Yehehes I knohohow! Give thehehem bahack!" he cried out, falling victim to a bout of cackles and shrieks.

"I don't really feel like it," he said, walking his fingers up to the balls of his feet. Essek shook his head, eyes filled with a thrilled kind of terror.

"Don't you dahahare go any farther," he warned, reaching down to shove him away, but Caleb blocked him. Instead of a verbal answer, he started scribbling just underneath his toes. A surprisingly girlish squeal pierced the air and he scrunched his feet in an attempt to lessen the ticklish feeling.

"See, that's what this all started out as: a dare. But now we're both enjoying ourselves," he teased, shooting him a wink as his dexterous fingers wormed their way between each toe. Essek shrieked, cheeks a dark purple.

"I-I ahaham nohohot! Whahatever mahahakes you thihink that?" Essek asked indignantly. Caleb's grin nearly split his face in two.

"For starters, you're laughing way too much to not be at least a little happy," he teased, squeezing both of his knees all of a sudden. He kicked out with a snort.

"Y-you're mahahaking mehehe!" he whined. Caleb shrugged smugly.

"Ja, I am, aren't I hilarious? But we both know you could easily make me stop. I'm not exactly strong," he pointed out, knowing from experience how flustering it was to be called out on your true thoughts on the matter. Essek shook his head, reaching up to cover his ears so he wouldn't have to listen to his teasing. For some reason, he thought Caleb wouldn't be such a tease. How foolish he'd been.

"Ihihif I could concehehentrate you'd behehe dead!" he continued his thinly veiled threats. Caleb actually cooed at him, leaning into his personal space as his fingers spidered up his ribs. Essek shrieked, arms crashing down to press against his sides.

Caleb tsked, shaking his head. "There you go again, trapping my fingers. Almost like you don't want me to stop," he teased with a wink, setting Essek's already profound blush aflame.

"Ihihi most certainly dohoho!" he tried to scold through his hysterics.

"Tell you what, if you can lift your arms so I can get my hands back, I'll stop," Caleb bargained. Essek shook his head as laughter poured from his lips. Caleb's brows shot up in surprise, his grin growing. "No? And why not?"

"Ihihi cahan feel you c-crossed your fihihingers! You're lying!" he spat out. Caleb gave a smug yet sheepish smile, shrugging his shoulder. He uncrossed his fingers, wiggling them in between his ribs earning another shriek of laughter.

"Guilty. Okay okay okay, now lift your arms and I'll stop for real this time," he promised. Essek glared at him through watery eyes, tears of mirth streaming down his cheeks and he wore a bright smile. Essek studied him even through his hysterics judging whether or not he should believe him. Finally, he slowly lifted his arms with a great deal of hesitation. His arms would jerk down a bit as he watched Caleb for any signs of an attack. Caleb only continued to smile the most dazzling smile Essek had seen from the man. Damn him.

Then his eyes flashed with a mixture of mischief and danger and before Essek could get away, he dug his fingers into his willingly exposed hollows.

"You fuhuhucking trahahaitor!" he yelled, immediately curling in a ball, arms pressed to his sides. Caleb laughed along with him, pulling his hands out from under his arms. Their laughter faded into the air, Caleb's much sooner than Essek's.

"Ohoho man, I'm sorry friend but I was having too much fun to stop," he apologized, patting his shoulder.

He greedily sucked in air, reaching out for the iced tea Caduceus had brought and gulped a quarter of it down. He smacked his lips, looking at the glass with a pleased expression, muttering under his breath, "Damn it, that's good." He took another large sip and set it down, flopping onto the mattress in an exhausted motion. He shot a glare at Caleb, "What the hell was that for?"

"Well, like I said; I was dared and then money got involved. But ah, you might've been laughing too hard to hear me," he teased with a wink. Just when his blush began to fade, it returned in full force.

"So... you were planning this from the start," Essek mused from where he laid on the bed.

"Yes, but you should know I was adamantly against it," Caleb said, hoping to smooth things over.

"And yet here you are: luring me here under false pretenses to torture and make a fool out of me. Besides, you clearly weren't very opposed to the idea." He regained his breath rather quickly, and when he turned to look at Caleb, all that mirth was gone. His features were set in a harsh glare and a fire burned in his eyes.

Caleb's own happy expression immediately fell from his face. "No! No that's not what I did at all! I really do appreciate our time together and learning these spells," he assured. "We did not do this to mock or make fun of you. Jester was just curious and got a little carried away-"

"Oh but you are the one who got carried away, if my aching belly is any proof," he sassed, raising to a sitting position. "I warned you multiple times to stop, and yet you ignored my pleas." Caleb looked down at the mattress, feeling guilty.

"I am sorry, but I've never heard you laugh like that before. And it felt nice to, y'know, be the one to make you lose your shit like that," he said, not meeting his gaze. Essek's expression softened for a moment.

"I... agree, that is the most I've laughed in quite some time. But there are other ways you know. Sure it might not be as- unhinged as what you just heard, but you could get a chuckle out of me. And I would think that would be more than enough," he scolded. And just because he could, he smacked Caleb upside the head. It wasn't meant to hurt, but rather to reprimand and startle him. And maybe make him feel a little more guilty than he already was.

"I-I know, I tried to tell them, but then they said I didn't have the guts to test it out. And by then I was more than a little curious myself," he rambled. "I really am sorry if I made you think we were doing this to make fun of you. We respect you. I respect you." He finally managed to look him in the eye. Then the corners of his lips tugged upwards as he looked back at the bed. "And just because the whole house heard you giggling like a school girl doesn't mean we don't."

The gentle expression that had managed to find Essek's face dropped upon hearing the teasing. "Oh Caleb... they were right about you." Said wizard's head snapped up, a confused and startled look on his face.

"What?" he breathed out.

"You really have no self preservation, do you?" he asked, amusement and mock sympathy lacing his voice. Caleb's brows shot up in surprise and he turned to make a run for it, only for his door to lock itself. He winced, standing there in the middle of his room and slowly turned to face Essek.

He'd seen that look before, and it never boded well for whoever it was directed at. It was a look of anger and determination, and it was utterly terrifying. Celeb felt himself shrink under such a gaze as he loomed closer.

"I-I'm sorry Essek, I really am. I-if you never want to teach me magic again, or if you want to take away the spells I just learned, I won't stop you. You have every right to-" Essek held his hand up to stop his ramblings.

"I do not wish for any of those things. But you will not get out of this unscathed." Without warning, or perhaps that was his warning, Essek cast hold person on him, and Caleb's never felt more screwed in his life. His eyes went wide and a nervous grin overtook his features. He cracked his knuckles, taking a step forward.

"Essek, please, I said I'm sorry. T-there's no need for this! I mean, do you really want to stoop to our level?" Essek leaned in, resting his hands on the dips of his sides. Caleb gasped, biting his lip to try and contain any sounds.

He whispered in his ear, "Right now, I'd love nothing more." Caleb was speechless as Essek leaned back to look directly at him. "Oh and just so you know, I won't stop until I feel like it, regardless of begging. After all, that's what you did to me," he said. He looked to the ground, shaking his head with a low chuckle. "Remember, you brought this on yourself."

Caleb whimpered at the teasing remark, trying to resist the spell and break free, but Essek grabbed his still body and plopped him onto the bed. Essek took a moment to position him, lifting his arms above his head without struggle.

"Please, you don't have to do this! I said I'm sorry, I won't do it again," he pleaded as he watched him roll his shirt up to expose his stomach. He yelped, more out of anticipation and nerves than anything.

"Oh but I'm afraid I have to. I must make an example out of you, so your friends will know what will happen to them if they are to be so bold," he spoke in a calm, even manner that sent chills up Caleb's spine. He couldn't even squirm... he'd really dug his own grave. A surprised, breathy giggle slipped out as Essek spidered his fingers over the soft skin. "Besides, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't get some well deserved revenge?" he asked, flashing a genuine smile. Even through his giggles he breathed a sigh of relief, knowing Essek wasn't as mad as he expected. But of course, that didn't mean he wouldn't make him live through hell.

"A-aha, so you ahahadmit we're friends?" Caleb asked, sucking his belly in. His fingers followed easily and began to pick up speed.

"Well, I never outright denied the claim. And if we're apparently comfortable doing this, I guess we are," he said, sounding a little surprised himself. As though the prospect of them actually being friends rather than work companions was entirely new. He shook himself out of the thought, prodding up his sides.

Caleb shrieked, a bought of bright laughter filling the air. His immediate reaction was rather pleasing for Essek to hear. He squeezed his fleshy sides, eliciting a loud snort. Essek's smile widened at the sound.

"You're this ticklish and you decided to test your luck with me? Not your brightest moment," he teased. His fingers prodded and vibrated on his stomach, and if he could, Caleb would've curled into a ball by now.

"Shuhuhut up!" he snapped, cheeks turning red. Essek's jaw dropped in shock, digging his fingers in a little more and picking up the pace. His hysterical giggling turned to deep bellylaughs, and his arms strained to pull down against the spell.

"Have you no manners, or do you just want me to tickle you stupid?" he asked in a huff. Poor Caleb's blush turned a shade darker from the mean taunt. To make matters worse, he couldn't even shake his head. So he had to answer verbally, lest Essek think he actually does want that.

"Nohoho dohohon't!" he squealed, trying with all his might to save himself against the spell. Due to his persistent laughter, it was an epic failure.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't," he said, fingers crawling up his ribs.

"Ihihit tihihihickles!" he squealed, nose scrunched up adorably as he laughed. Essek chuckled along with him.

"I said to give a reason why I should stop, not to keep going," he teased, pinching at his lowest ribs. His laughter spiked and his body twitched, slowly beginning to regain the ability to move. Essek took notice before eyeing the book holsters on Caleb's chest. He traced around them and his giggling turned more nervous and hysteric.

"Nehehein, nein nohohot thehere!" he pleaded. In that moment, Caleb looked happier than Essek had ever seen him. Perhaps he could understand how he had gotten so carried away with his own torture.

"A good spot I presume?" he asked, taking advantage of the last of the spell to unclip the holster and slide it off. Caleb whined in protest, eyes closed and head tilted back. "I'll take that as a yes," he mused, ghosting his hands over the newly exposed spot. Caleb shrieked before loud, carefree laughter flowed from his lips.

Essek scratched between the spaces of his previously (semi) protected ribs, eliciting a very loud snort from the other wizard. It fueled his embarrassment enough for him to break the spell in order to hide his cherry red face behind his hands.

"Show me that happy face, or I might be compelled to cast again," he threatened playfully. Caleb squealed but shook his head, rolling onto his side. He tucked his knees to his chest, forming a tight ball. Essek grabbed his wrists in one hand to pull them away. Caleb tried to fight him off, but his arms were pulled over his head once more.

Essek wore a triumphant smirk as he leaned in, "I know your friends tease you about being weak, but this is ridiculous," he taunted, scratching his exposed hollow. Caleb let out a scream of laughter, writhing underneath him.

"Shuhut uhuhup! Ihihi cahahan't!" he whined, body jolting as he switched to his other armpit. High pitched cackles escaped from his mouth and his legs kicked in the air frantically, as if he were riding a bicycle.

"You can't what? I'm afraid you'll have to be more clear," Essek said, clearly enjoying the reversal of power in this situation.

"Q-quit teheheasing arschloch," he managed to swear through hysterics.

"I may not speak Zemnian, but that certainly sounds a lot like asshole to me. And well, I can't let you get away with calling me that, now can I?" he asked, drilling his thumbs in the center of his underarms.

If Essek giggled like a little school girl, Caleb certainly shrieked like one. The hand returned to cover his mouth, barely muffling the snorts and cackles that followed. Unfortunately for Essek, it also hid that dazzling smile he didn't know he loved so much. Emotions began to swell in his chest; emotions he wasn't quite ready to deal with just yet. He should stop...

But not yet. He did grant him a quick breather as he straddled him, keeping him pinned. Caleb's hair was a wild mess, a few strands stuck to his forehead by a thin layer of sweat. His head flopped back as he panted for breath, letting out a low whine.

"You're being cruel. You're a cruel man, Essek Thelyss," he said in a slightly dazed voice. There was no venom in his words, and his smile remained prominent.

"Then you should keep that in mind the next time you try this," he practically purred. Caleb arched a brow, sweet grin morphing into a playful smirk.

"That insinuates that there will be a next time." Essek floundered for a moment, sputtering for an answer.

"T-there won't," he tried to sound stern.

"If you don't think I'm already planning ahead then you're foolish."

"You do realize I'm not done yet, right?" Essek teased, fluttering up his sides. He squeaked and fell into a stream of giggles, squirming underneath him. His hands crawled their way up to his neck where he cupped his face. Caleb froze, staring deep into his eyes. "You really are a glutton for punishment," he playfully chastised, scratching just behind his ears.

Caleb shrieked, trapped in an endless cycle of snorts and giggles. Essek's gentle hold around his neck made it impossible for him to toss his head around to escape the feeling, and it just heightened the torturously wonderful feeling of hopelessness he was in. If this was the consequences that came with fucking with Essek, then he'd have to mess with the man more often.

"Wow, you just get more ticklish the longer this goes on, don't you?" he asked, as if amazed. Caleb's never felt more flustered.

"T-thahahat's nohohot true!" he denied. Another snort slipped out, followed by shrill giggles.

"No? How about you prove it then," Essek challenged, a hungry, almost predatory look in his eye. His fingers slowed to a stop and he started to lean in. He was leaning in! Caleb licked his lips, closing his eyes as he craned his neck to meet him.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on top of his head, pulling it to the side to expose his neck. His eyes flew open, a sinking feeling in his stomach. "What-"

Essek's lips collided with the taut skin of his neck and he blew a loud raspberry that reverberated through the room. Caleb's reaction was immediate.

Hysterical cackling filled the air around him and he weakly shoved and smacked at Essek's shoulders and chest. "Nehehein thihihis ihisn't fahahair!" he squealed, body quickly turning to jelly.

As an answer, Essek blew another raspberry, renewing the laughing fit Caleb had been lost to. He made a show of pulling away, taking a comically deep breath.

Caleb frantically shook his head, "No no nohohoho! You bahahahastard, stohohop!" he pleaded. Essek repeated the process two more times on the other side of his neck before letting him go.

He curled up in a giggling heap, body still twitching from phantom touches that lingered on his skin.

"And that is what happens if you try to tickle me. Do keep that in mind," Essek said with a wink. Caleb whimpered, grabbing a pillow and shoving it over his face. "Oh don't be like that," Essek teased, poking his soft tummy a few times, wiggling his fingers a bit. Caleb squealed, a few short giggles slipping out as he smacked the offending hands. Essek pulled the pillow away without struggle, revealing a rather embarrassed, but happy, looking Caleb.

"I think your face matches your hair right now," he teased, moving some of the stray locks from his forehead. Caleb adverted his eyes, sitting up.

"Shut up, I can't help it. I embarrass easily," he complained. Essek's smile only grew.

"You're telling me." There was a quiet moment filled with a thick tension that neither of them decided to break. Essek smacked the tops of his thighs, standing up. "Well! I believe I must be going. I had another spell I wanted to teach you, but since you wasted our valuable time-"

"It definitely wasn't a waste," Caleb interrupted, a satisfied smile firmly in place. Essek blinked in surprise, taken aback by the statement. "If you ask me, that was time well spent."

Essek huffed out an amused chuckle, staring at the floor. He tilted his head to look at him, pausing to think of what to say. "Yes well, if you had so much fun, you should look forward to our next session. Where you will practice maintaining concentration while casting," he said the last part with a slight edge to his tone, giving Caleb a stern look. Just in case he didn't get the hint, he wiggled his fingers in his direction for good measure.

His mouth gaped open and closed, at a loss for words. Essek smiled proudly, feeling as though he won that conversation. He was putting his cloak on when he heard something at the door.

"Aww that's so cute- Ow!" came Jester's muffled voice.

"You're being loud!" Beauregard scolded in a loud hush. Essek and Caleb locked eyes. Caleb with a look of "oh shit, I'm fucked" while Essek's flashed with anger.

"You're both being loud, we have to leave," Fjord said next. With a quick wave of his hand, the door opened and in tumbled the three of them, plus Nott. They laid scattered on the floor in a guilty heap, Jester grinning up at him nervously with a tiny wave.

"Wha- how long have you been listening?" he asked incredulously. Beauregard answered hesitantly. "Kinda like, the whole time."

"So since around 3:30," Jestered answered. Essek's head snapped to glare at Caleb.

"You had a time picked out?" he asked in a dark yet patient tone. Caleb merely nodded. "Huh. Consider this part one of my revenge.

"What? But-"

"No buts," he shut him down, taking on the air of his authority.

Nott scrambled free, but Essek reached down and grabbed her by her shirt collar and picked her up.

"And where do you think you're going?" he asked. Nott threw punches in the air, and yelled, "I'm an innocent bystander! They asked me to come along!"

"It's true, she had nothing to do with this," Caleb spoke up, vouching for her. Essek set her down without a word, letting her dash away.

Essek stepped aside, gesturing with a "welcoming" arm to the others. "By all means, do come in." It wasn't a request, it was an order. They crawled in and stood in the middle of the room, all looking some degree of guilty, some more than others. Fjord looked the most genuine. Beauregard was at least trying to act remorseful, but it was clear she thought this was hilarious. Jester seemed to be quite pleased with herself, barely suppressing her smug grin and doing a rather poor job.

Essek closed the door, trapping them in the room. He then began pacing in front of them and spoke. "I can't believe that you all would devise this scheme."

"You can't? Don't you know us by now?" Beau asked.

"I thought I made the boundaries of our relationship quite clear, but apparently such things mean nothing to you," he scolded. Beau shut her mouth, knowing when to shut up while getting chewed out.

"Look, we meant no disrespect. It was just a little misguided curiosity that got out of hand. You have our word, it won't happen again,” Fjord assured.

"It most certainly will not. And if you feel like testing your luck, I dare you to try. I promise you'll end up in worse shape than Caleb," he said, pointing over to him. He lifted his red face from his hands to let out a sound of protest.

"I don't know, I think I can hold out better than him," Jester bragged aloud.

"In that case I'll be sure to go after you next," he said, glaring her down. She squeaked, wrapping her arms around her body. "Then you," he said, pointing at Beauregard, making her pale. "Then you," he continued down the line, ending with Fjord. He poked his chest, making him lean back. They all looked like scared puppies cowering in a corner. Good, he thought. They should be nervous.

"Wait a minute, does this mean you'll actually start hanging out with us?" Jester asked, not bothering to contain her excitement. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Unfortunately yes."

"Hey don't say that like it's the worst thing ever," Beau said, crossing her arms.

"Yeah, you totally had a blast!" Jester exclaimed. Essek reeled back, cheeks blushing a darker purple.

"I-I did not!"

"You did tell Caleb this would happen again," Fjord spoke up, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. "Technically twice." He finally succumbed to the teasing smile that fought its way onto his face. "It's okay if you had a lil fun. We won't tell," he assured the shadowhand, shooting him a wink.

"Caleb is like, really fun to tickle, isn't he?" Jester asked, grinning from ear to ear.

"I am not!" Caleb yelped from his spot on the bed.

"No I'm afraid she's right. But I don't know what you three are so smug about. Using poor Caleb as your scape goat and then eaves dropping on my demise: it's cowardly and conniving, but clever." They hung their heads in shame- well, as much as one can have while biting back a smug grin.

"I'm sorry Ms. Beauregard, is something about this funny?" he asked in a dangerous growl. She quickly schooled her features and shook her head.

"N-no," she bluffed, meeting his eyes for a few seconds before breaking down into snickers, nodding her head. "Yeheah I do, but I can't help it! You're all you but then your laugh is super high pitched. It's uh, shocking."

"You would all be wise to sleep with one eye open until further notice," Essek said, glaring them down one by one. Fjord shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

Jester rocked on the balls of her feet, tentatively asking, "You aren't like, actually planning to sneak into our house in the middle of the night just to tickle us, are you?" she asked nervously. She gasped and a hand slapped over her mouth. "Oh no you guys, I think I accidentally gave the Traveler an idea!" she squeaked in shock.

Essek stared at her, blinking in shock. "Um, no but the fact you feel compelled to ask that is a little concerning," he said a little wearily, keeping an eye on all of their hands. He stood at the doorway, ready to leave. He turned to face them and said, "Don't worry about Nott, she'll get what's coming eventually. As will Caduceus."

Fjord's stomach twisted at the prospect of roping their innocent friends into this mess. Mostly because they'd be in search of their own revenge. "Now wait a minute, he didn't have anything to do with this," Fjord defended.

"Oh but he did," he said, holding up the glass of lemonade tea. He took another sip and offered a tight lipped smile. "He knew what was going to happen and didn't even try to tip me off. I consider that being an accessory after the fact."

"Pft, you say that like it's a crime or something," Jester giggled.

"If I wanted to I could classify this as an assault," he scolded. He paused to let his words take effect before continuing. "But seeing as no one got hurt and I'm already planning on taking matters into my own hands, that won't be necessary." He turned to leave when Fjord spoke up.

"Maybe go easier on us than you did Caleb," he said, gesturing to himself and Beauregard. "We didn't play as big a part in this as Jester." She gasped and pinched his sides, making him jerk away with a quick yelp.

"What is wrong with you? You can't throw me to the wolves like that!" she whined.

Essek gave an annoyed grin and hummed, "I don't think you're in the position to be making requests. Goodbye."

"What's the matter, are you not staying for dinner?" Beau asked teasingly. He let out a half amused, half nervous chuckle.

"You're out of your mind if you think I'd stick around after this."

Jester nodded, "Mm that's fair. Oh wait!" He sighed, turning to face her. "What?" he asked exasperatedly.

"You forgot your shoes! Not that you really need them or anything," she teased, rolling her eyes as she held out his shoes. His cheeks flushed slightly and he took them wordlessly, giving them all a side eyed glance. "You have a really nice laugh by the way."

His mouth gaped open before promptly snapping it shut. "Er- thank you." He slipped on his shoes and left, more flustered than he intended to be.

On his way out, Caduceus caught him in the walkway. "Oh hey, how're you feeling after all that?" he asked in his usual warm tone.

"Exhausted and more embarrassed than I ever remember being," he huffed. He placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, giving a comforting pat.

"Heh, I know. But it's good to let those emotions out every once in a while. Like a soul cleanse," he mused.

"Uh, that's not how I see it, but I guess I do feel lighter," he admitted before he could think better of it. "Don't tell anyone I said that," he ordered.

Caduceus held his hands up in surrender. "Not a word." He looked him up and down, as if judging whether or not he was telling the truth.

"Good. Thank you for the tea by the way. Very refreshing." He perked up at the compliment, a wide smile stretching across his face.

"Really? Oh, I'm so glad you liked it," he said with a mix of excitement and relief.

"Yes. I'll be sure to keep your kindness in mind when I go after you," he said absentmindedly.

His smile twitched downwards and his perked up ears dropped. "W-what?"

"As far as I'm concerned, you all have some blame in this."

His gentle smile found its way back on his face and he shook his head. "Nah, I'm an angel." Essek didn't bother to stop the wide grin from forming.

"Maybe compared to the others," he joked. Caduceus chuckled, waving as he walked out the door. "Well I'll look forward to it."

That certainly threw him for a loop. He stopped to look at him, bewilderment and confusion in his eyes. "You do realize that was a threat."

Caduceus just shrugged. "Maybe to you. To me, I just see a new friend finally coming around."

Essek didn't know what to say to that. Instead he just shook his head, chuckling. "You are a strange bunch, that's for sure." He paused before closing the door, looking over his shoulder. "Oh and Caduceus?"

"Hm?"

"Tell everyone to watch their back." With a wink and a quick flash of teeth, he shut the door. He left feeling both tired and rejuvenated, floating a little higher than he normally did. Maybe this group of people were his friends after all.

[solomonish]

Demon Brothers Helping a Struggling MC

CW for: eating disorders (alluded to but not described - discussed in the disclaimer).

so, i want to first state that if anybody believes anything in this post is more harmful than helpful, please let me know and i will delete it. I know that for things that I deal with, fics like this are comforting, but seeing as I’ve never personally had an eating disorder or known someone with one, it’s entirely possible I missed the mark. additionally: here is a tumblr post with a variety of hotlines you can call if you need to. There are eating disorder specific hotlines for the US and UK listed, along with suicide helplines for countries around the world. if you or someone you know is struggling, please reach out and get help - especially from the professionals who know how to give the proper care. you are so worth it.

Lucifer

He keeps an eye on you, even when you don’t realize it, so he’s the first to notice that something is bothering you. Still, with how much time he spends working, it does take him a little longer than he’d like.

As solution-oriented as he is, he prefers to address you the moment he figures it out. His words are firm and straightforward - he’s not the one you want to go to if you need things put gently.

Pride is who he is, and he takes great pride in you - he makes sure to make this known. This knowledge does not make him any less proud of you, and he wants you to be able to see yourself the way he does - certainly then, you might have an easier time with the recovery process.

Even if Lucifer cannot be there directly by your side, he is always with you - in the reminders he sends you, in the rewards he promises when you make progress, in the efforts he makes to assist your transition into the Devildom. He’s the best at creating a stable environment so that you don’t have as much to focus on while he works with you to recover.

Mammon

Mammon is a hard on to hide anything from, if only because he’s around you so much. he also spends a lot of time staring after you wistfully but shhh don’t let him know you know

Still, he’s also a bit oblivious at times, so it might take him a while to notice anything is up. once he does realize that you’re struggling, he panics a bit.

Mammon brings it up himself, but only after a short while of acting antsy around you and staring more pointedly at you at random points throughout the day. he’s clumsy in his approach, but careful to be sensitive: he’s used to being told how often he messes things up, and this is one thing he WANTS to get right.

Mammon has a way of making you feel in control - with the way he allows you to tell him what you need, with the way he isn’t too pushy in helping you through rockier days of your recovery. He wants to be able to be YOUR man, your go-to guy for anything, and he’ll make absolutely sure to get it right.

Leviathan

Levi has a million things to distract himself from the world around him, so bringing him into reality can take a while.

However, he can also tell when somebody else is uncomfortable - whether it’s a facet of his pact or he’s just in tune with his best friend, he isn’t sure.

He’s the type to go to sites like reddit and ask for first-person experience advice. The clinical advice seems stuffy and he isn’t sure if he can be trusted with such formal advice.

His strong suit is distraction, so if you’re okay with it, that how he’ll help you. If anything in your recovery gets too much, he’s there to help shift your focus. He’s also good with helping you stick to some kind of schedule, if that helps you out. After all, he sticks to one religiously to catch all his shows - he’ll rearrange it for you if you need it.

Satan

Satan is perceptive, but he’s not immune to overthinking. The fact that you came to the Devildom, something to be wary of yet somehow becoming something so treasured so quickly, catches him off guard and he still has to reconcile his feelings with how he watches you.

When he does find out and realizes how long he’s gone without noticing, he’s angry with himself. He’s supposed to be the smart one, the perceptive one, and he missed something so important.

He’ll read up on everything he can in order to give you the best support. Satan will also up his attentiveness, making sure to notice any little thing you may need that you don’t want to tell him about.

Aside from maybe having to let him know to back off a bit, Satan will probably be the most likely to just intuitively know what you need. He still communicates everything with you, and he makes for good company, whatever type you may need.

Asmodeus

Asmo’s favorite things to take pictures of are as follows: himself, you, and the most aesthetically pleasing desserts he can find. When you start shying away from two of those, he wonders briefly what made you so camera shy but normally turns the camera on himself and shrugs it off. maybe you feel like you’re having a bad hair day?

Once it does dawns on him that perhaps it’s something more serious, he’ll immediately ask you how he can help. He’s holding you gently as he does, using his softest voice - he almost sounds timid, and maybe he has to be, to deal with the amount of love he’s feeling for you and only you.

You might have to tell him to ease up on the overt compliments about how you look or talking about buying clothes and “form fitting” shapes, and thought he’ll have a learning curve he’ll find lots of different ways to make sure you feel loved! He’ll take a page from your book and start complimenting things like how sweet you are, or how smart he thinks you are - things about the you inside of you that have his heart racing when you say them back.

Asmo knows a lot about the pressure to look a certain way, so even though he lives by feeding into what those people want, he’ll always back out if it gets too much for you. If it’s alright with you, you can always be his favorite photographer <3

Beelzebub

When he’s eating, he doesn’t always focus on what other people are eating. (honestly, it only makes him hungrier). However, when he offers some of his food to you - a move anybody will tell you is the most affectionate thing he can do - and you refuse, he starts to worry.

At first, he wonders if you’re upset with him - and once he finds out the real reason, he doesn’t feel much more satisfied.

Beel’s best effort is trying to structure mealtimes more so instead of gorging himself throughout the day he eats meals. He also never judges or comments on what you do or don’t eat - he just does his best to make sure you have any option you want.

Beel’s strongest suit is comfort - he’ll agree with anything you do want to eat and will get rid of anything you don’t without judgement. He’s also pretty good with knowing the nutritional value of food - if you’re interested, he’d be more than happy to help you plan meals that have what you want and what you need, without making it seem too daunting a task.

Belphegor

Belphegor doesn’t pick up on a lot of things because he’s asleep most of the day. He does, however, spend a lot of his conscious hours with you, and eventually (maybe with some innocent prompting from Beel) he’ll realize that you’re starting to behave differently.

Will straight up ask you about it until he knows you’re being completely honest with him. What he lacks in tact he makes up for in dedication - he wants to help you, and his apathetic front allows him to help without seeming too involved to the point it makes you uncomfortable.

Belphegor can help you feel a sense of normalcy if you ever get overwhelmed or disconnected. He can continue conversations about really anything and help give you a moment to recuperate and breathe.

That’s not to say he isn’t proactive in your recovery. Anything you tell him or anything he brings to the table to brainstorm, he’ll say at the end of the conversation “let me sleep on it” and when he wakes up again he’ll have several game plans ready to see which helps you most in your recovery.

All

if one of them catches wind, it’s only a matter of time until the others notice how something’s changed between you and that brother

all of them will advocate for you to have easier access to the human world for therapy (in their own ways, some more helpful than others), should you choose to go. if not, they’ll all do their best to be a comforting ear when you need one.

sometimes you can find them all in the library, not discussing what you’ve told them but trying to figure out how best to communicate how much they care. (it’s one of the few times you can see them actually working together)

whoever had grocery duty or dinner duty will often check in with you to see if you have any special requests. if you mention wanting a specific snack or something throughout the day, you might end up with seven packages of it within 24 hours. (they’re all trying).

little by little, you’ll also notice how they stop fighting as much at the table. meals become more fun and enjoyable affairs, even if there’s been a disagreement earlier in the day. the brothers are all on their best behavior, and lucifer doesn’t even make any comments wondering why they won’t act that way for diavolo.

[longing-and-heartache-and-lust]

the drug, the dark, the light, the flame, Ch.XII.ii

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Behold, a new - very emotional - chapter of my work for this year’s @geraskierbigbang in collaboration with my favourite @gen-syz-art as my artist 💕

come take a look at the incredible art for this chapter by the one and only @gen-syz-art right here ✨

and please, mind the tags on Archive

______________________

Geralt keeps himself busy with taking notes from a bestiary he’d found on one of the shelves in the library a few days ago, and he doesn’t even notice as a few hours go by.

It’s only when he hears the familiar tap-tap-tap of Asra’s and Lucio’s claws against the floor that he realises Jaskier must’ve woken up and let them out of the room.

The dogs make their way to Geralt, wagging their tails and licking his hand when he reaches out to pet them, and he needs to shift closer to one side of the chair to make space for Asra that has taken to curling up next to him and sleeping with her head in his lap.

He doesn’t mind it though he knows that it makes Lucio a little jealous.

“Would you look at you two, simply made for each other,” Jaskier teases, coming into the room.

He’d changed from the clothes he’d had on in the morning, and is now wearing a chemise of black silk, adorned with intricate emerald-green lace on the cinched wrists and the high neckline. It’s a pattern of leaves and flowers, all woven together close enough for there to be barely any skin showing.

“You look beautiful,” Geralt says, without even thinking about it, and Jaskier blushes under his gaze.

“What did you do here without me?” he asks, coming closer and giving Asra a jealous little look.

Geralt gestures to his notes on the table beside the chair and the open bestiary on top of them. He wants to get Asra back onto the floor, and have Jaskier in his lap instead of her, but she might take offence in that, and Geralt just isn’t willing to risk it.

He is, however, fully entitled to just stand up and move to the settee, which is exactly what he does, taking Jaskier with him by the hand.

Asra raises her head and snorts at him but doesn’t really protest, especially when Lucio jumps up onto the chair, and they curl up together.

“Can’t get your hands off me, can you?” Jaskier teases when Geralt pulls him down onto the settee, but he goes willingly, regardless.

He settles comfortably against Geralt’s chest, a pleased little rumble escaping his lips when the witcher pulls a blanket over both of them, keeping out the cold. It’s not winter just yet, but there are only a few more weeks left. And Redania has never really been warm.

“You don’t have to stay in the mansion all the time, you know,” Jaskier murmurs after a little while of comfortable silence. “If you want to go hunting or maybe just take Roach out for a ride, you can. I don’t want you to feel like you must stay on this side of the gates just because I do.”

Geralt hasn’t really thought about it. But knowing that Jaskier cares makes his chest feel warm.

“I like it here with you,” he says, running his fingers through the bard’s hair. “But I could bring you little things from the outside, like berries or herbs, make you feel more connected to the world.”

Jaskier hums, nuzzling against his chest and pressing a kiss to it through the fabric of Geralt’s shirt.

“Little rocks,” he says.

“What was that?”

“Little rocks. Pebbles from the river. Sometimes there are colourful ones, I used to collect them when I was in the Academy.”

“I’ll bring you little rocks, then,” Geralt agrees, and it might just be the most sentimental thing he’d ever said to anyone. “The colourful ones.”

Jaskier raises his head from his chest and leans in, leaving a warm, grateful kiss on Geralt’s lips. It makes the witcher shiver all over.

Before Jaskier can break away, he kisses him again, just as soft, and the bard returns it, shifting just enough to get a better angle. Even as he breaks the kiss to take in a breath, their lips still touch, and then Geralt can feel the wet brush of his tongue on his lips.

Jaskier doesn’t deepen the kiss, just teases, and though Geralt allows him to play his little games, he’s got a few tricks of his own.

Leaving one hand where it’s resting on Jaskier’s waist, he brings the other one higher, running his fingers up the line of the bard’s spine, and the way he gasps when Geralt brushes over the mark in-between his shoulder blades might just be the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

“Unfair,” he whispers into Geralt’s ear, but the next moment he’s already shifting to straddle his hips.

Geralt doesn’t let himself give in that easily.

“No,” he grins, rolling his hips just enough for Jaskier to feel it. “What was unfair is you teasing me when I was here last time, making it harder and harder to resist.”

Jaskier runs the tips of his fingers over the top three buttons on Geralt’s shirt, and they open, giving him better access to the witcher’s neck. Geralt nearly whines at the little pinpricks of magic against his skin.

“You didn’t have to resist, Geralt,” Jaskier murmurs, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the witcher’s neck, right under the sharp of his jaw. “You could have just taken what you wanted.”

Feeling braver, Geralt tugs on the hem of Jaskier’s chemise, untucking it from the waist of his trousers, and slips his hand under the thin fabric, nearly burning himself with the heat of Jaskier’s skin. He wants to be more patient, but it’s been months of all those feelings burning in his chest, and he just can’t bring himself to.

Jaskier arches his back and presses his hips closer to Geralt’s as the witcher rucks his chemise up to his chest and runs both his hands up his sides, catching Jaskier’s lips in a kiss just in time to drink in his trembling little moan when he runs his fingers directly over the mark on his back.

“Is it really that sensitive?” he murmurs when Jaskier breaks away, his breathing hot against Geralt’s skin.

Jaskier nips at his lower lip in revenge, almost hard enough to break the tender skin.

“Yes,” he growls, pressing a hard, possessive kiss to Geralt’s neck and rolling his hips against his. “And if you keep doing that, you’ll pay for it later.”

Oh, but that is just way too tempting to resist.

“You need to work on your threats,” Geralt grins, dragging his nails down Jaskier’s back, gentle enough not to cause any pain.

Jaskier sucks in a breath, back arching, and hides his face in the cure of Geralt’s shoulders, shuddering all over.

Geralt medallion hums against his chest with the magic radiating off Jaskier, and on the desk by the window, all the books fly open, the pages turning as if disturbed by a sudden gust of wind.

“Fuck,” Jaskier breathes, and it’s so close to a whine that Geralt nearly loses his mind. “I can’t fucking control my magic when I’m with you.”

And gods, that might be the most incredible thing anyone’s ever said to Geralt.

He’s very aware of just how hard he is from merely a couple of kisses, and there is nothing he wants more than to flip them both around, lay Jaskier down onto the soft cushions and take him apart bit by bit, until he’s whimpering and shaking, but even more than that, he’s aware of just how important it is not to rush.

“We can slow down, if you want to,” he murmurs, pressing a warm, comforting kiss to Jaskier’s cheek. “I want you to be comfortable.”

Jaskier hums something, leaning into Geralt’s touch when he wraps his arms around his waist, gently brushing over the soft skin with his thumb.

“I am comfortable,” he says, averting his eyes almost apologetically. “I just need to adjust a little. I can barely contain my power when you touch me like that.”

Geralt tips his chin up and pulls him into a long, calming kiss.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he grins once Jaskier breaks away.

Jaskier rolls his eyes affectionately, and settles in more comfortably again, resting his head on Geralt’s shoulder.

It takes a little while for Geralt’s veins to stop burning but Jaskier’s steady breathing calms him, and really, just having him in his arms is enough.

There’s going to be time for everything else.

***

They stay in the library for the entire day, never really letting go of each other, and when Arthur comes in to bring them hot wine, he gives them a little look and Geralt could swear that he hides a smile beneath his moustache.

At some point, Asra and Lucio try to join them, but the settee isn’t big enough for all of them at once, so Jaskier gives them an apologetic look and feeds them treats that appear in his hand out of thin air.

Geralt can’t help but kiss him every chance he gets, still not quite able to believe that he’s allowed to do that now, and Jaskier smiles into his lips and kisses him back every time.

Dinner seems like an insufficient reason to get up, so they both just skip it, earning themselves another look from Arthur, this one slightly more disapproving. Jaskier gives him a charming smile in return and pointedly kisses Geralt on the corner of his lips.

It’s comfortable and easy, like they’ve known each other forever. Like everything has finally fallen into place.

“You know, I’ve had a lot of people in this mansion over the years,” Jaskier murmurs, tilting his head to sneak a look at Geralt. “But I’ve never spent entire days in the arms of any of them. Only you.”

He reaches up to brush his thumb over Geralt’s cheek, the sleeve of his chemise riding up, and the witcher already parts his lips to answer when he finally notices.

A cold shiver runs down his back, breath getting stuck in his throat, and Jaskier must notice that, because within seconds, he’s on his feet, holding his arm to his chest like a broken wing. His eyes are widened with fear, and the scent of it comes off him in waves, so strong that it’s overwhelming.

Still feeling like he’s unable to breathe, Geralt sits up slowly, careful not to startle Jaskier with any sudden movement, and his heart is beating so hard in his chest that it hurts.

“Jask--” he says softly. “What is that?”

He stands up to take a step towards the bard, but he backs away from him, terrified, tears shining in his eyes.

“It’s nothing,” he says, voice shaking.

Slowly, Geralt takes another step, holding both his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. Jaskier doesn’t move away from him, but he still holds his arm to his chest, shaking all over.

“Jaskier,” Geralt tries again, carefully closing in the distance between them until he is standing right in front of him. “Please. Let me see?”

Jaskier shakes his head stubbornly, clenching his fingers tighter.

“It’s nothing, Geralt, really--”

“Please,” the witcher repeats, cutting him off and holding his hand out. “I won’t hurt you. Just let me see.”

The seconds that go by in silence feel like an eternity, disturbed only by Jaskier’s soft sobs, until finally, very slowly, he takes his arm away from his chest and places his wrist in Geralt’s hand.

Geralt undoes the three little buttons on the side of his sleeve with shaking fingers, and Jaskier turns away, closing his eyes shut, tears glistening in his cheeks, as Geralt rolls his sleeve up.

There, on the perfect pale skin, is a long vertical scar, running from the bend of Jaskier’s wrist and all the way up to the middle of his forearm. Geralt knows enough about the marks that blades can leave on skin to know that it’s deep without having to touch it.

Geralt can feels his ears ringing even as he says:

“And the other one?”

Jaskier gives him his other arm without any words or resistance, but the broken sob that escapes his chest shatters Geralt’s heart into pieces.

“Jask--” he calls softly, reaching with his other hand to brush the bard’s hair out of his face, but when he tries to turn him towards him, Jaskier resists, refusing to open his eyes and look at him.

He’s still holding his other arm out, and Geralt takes it gently, forcing himself to take in a breath.

He undoes the buttons, and though he knows that there is going to be another scar on that arm, it still feels like a stab to the chest to roll up Jaskier’s sleeve and see it.

It’s identical to the one on his right arm, just as long and deep, and Geralt feels like his heart rips open in his chest with pain.

He should be used to scars but these ones take all air away from his lungs.

“I didn’t want you to know,” Jaskier sniffles, voice still shaking, and when Geralt raises his head, he finds the bard looking at him, blue eyes clouded up with tears. “Thought I could hide them from you for just a little longer.”

He looks so scared, so broken, and he’s still shaking all over as Geralt pulls him into his arms, holding him tightly against his chest. His eyes burn with tears, and he shuts them, pressing his lips to Jaskier’s temple.

“It’s alright,” he whispers, running his fingers through Jaskier’s hair to comfort him. “It’s alright, I’m here.”

Jaskier clings onto him, shaking with silent tears, and Geralt holds him, whispering comforting little things and leaving kisses on his temple even as his own heart bleeds in his chest.

The thought of losing him long before they even met hurts much more than he ever could’ve thought.

Time stretches and passes by without Geralt knowing if it’s been minutes or hours. After what seems like an eternity, Jaskier’s sobs quiet down, and his tears dry, but he doesn’t let go of Geralt, his body still trembling.

After seemingly just as long, Geralt finally takes in enough air to ask:

“Why did you do it?”

Jaskier doesn’t respond for a few long seconds, just breathing, before breaking away to look at Geralt.

“I was scared,” he says quietly, letting Geralt take his wrists into his hands again. “I’ve been here for a little over three years when I noticed that I’m changing, that I’m growing older. I was only twenty-one, and no-one else would’ve noticed the difference, but I did. And it was-- gods, it was hard enough already, with being unable to step outside, trying to get a proper control of my power and just being alone, but that… it just hit me so much harder than I was able to take.”

Twenty-one. He could’ve died at twenty-one.  

“I tried not to think about it, I really did,” Jaskier says, his gaze falling onto his forearms. “But it became something that I couldn’t get rid of. Every time I saw myself in the mirror, I felt like it was getting worse. And I was so scared, so fucking scared of just slowly growing old and dying in this mansion, without ever taking another step outside, that one evening it just-- it just became too much.”

There are tears in his eyes again, running down his cheeks in wet lines, but he doesn’t take his hands away to wipe them off.

“I wanted control over at least something in my life, Geralt. And if I couldn’t choose the way I lived, I wanted to choose the way I died. I couldn’t stand the thought of just slowly rotting away within these walls, torn away from the outside world and completely forgotten by it, so I just… I decided to end my life before it could happen.”

Geralt can feel himself shake, and the longer he looks at the scars on Jaskier’s arms, the worse it gets. Just the thought of how scared he must’ve been to try and take his own life feels like it re-opens all of Geralt’s own scars, making him burn and bleed all over.

He can’t think of anything that he would not have done for Jaskier not to have those marks on his arms.

“Arthur found me,” Jaskier chuckles humorlessly. “The dogs felt the scent of blood and started barking, waking him up. I was unconscious by then but from what he’d told me, he’d knocked on my bathroom door for about a minute before breaking it down. Found me in the tub, stopped the blood, carried me to bed. I slept through four days straight, according to him.”

Geralt forcibly makes himself calm down, recalling everything he’d even been taught in Kaer Morhen. His mind keeps racing, but his body reacts like it had been trained to, and finally, he manages to stop himself from trembling.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that--” he says, barely above a whisper. “Gods, Jask, I’m just--”

He hates that he can’t find the right words, and he shuts his eyes again, leaning down to touch his lips to Jaskier’s wrists, leaving hard, dry kisses on both scars.

Jaskier flinches but doesn’t take his hands away.

“It took me a long time to recover after that,” he says quietly. “Not only physically, but mentally. I’ve spent a month in bed, barely getting up and just fucking crying. Everything hurt, especially the scars, and every time I moved my arm wrong, the pain just paralysed me.”

He sways a little on his feet, and pulls Geralt down onto the hide in front of the fireplace with him. Asra and Lucio jump down from their chair and come closer, sniffing and licking at him, and Jaskier smiles through the tears, hugging them both.

“They were still fresh when one night Arthur woke me up and said that there is a woman at the gates, begging to be let in,” he says, leaning into Geralt’s arms when the witcher opens them. “She turned out to be a mage. She was badly hurt and on the run from the witch hunters, so I hid her here.”

He seems to be calming down now, resting his back against Geralt’s chest, and as his breathing evens out, Geralt can feel himself being able to breathe again, as well.

He holds Jaskier in his arms, rocking gently from side to side, and presses soft kisses to his neck and shoulders. His heart is still beating too hard and too fast for a witcher but he listens without interrupting, letting Jaskier say everything that he needs to.

“I will tell you about her some other day, if you want me to,” Jaskier says, and Geralt can hear just how tired he is, how much this conversation is taking out of him. “But she stayed with me for a little over a month, healing her wounds and planning her next steps, and when she was ready to leave, she told me that in return for my kindness towards her, she would like to grant me any wish I choose. Of course, I asked her to break the curse. But even as I was saying those words, I knew that it’s too intricate to be broken that way.”

Asra and Lucio poke at him with their noses, whining in concern, and Jaskier smiles at them, leaning down to kiss both dogs on the noses.

“It’s alright, my loves,” he reassures before tilting his head to brush his lips over Geralt’s jaw and address him again. “But when she told me that it’s a curse that can only be broken by the mage that had cast it or by meeting the requirements, she also offered me something else. Over her days here, she’d noticed the healing scars on my arms, and when she asked, I just told her. So she offered me a deal. You’re going to stay young as long as you have a reason to live, she said. It seemed a little too good to be true, but I still took it.”

Jaskier turns around in Geralt’s arms and gently brushes a stray lock of his hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear. Geralt leans into the touch, closing his eyes, and it’s almost unexpected when Jaskier touches a gentle kiss to his lips.

And just as the meaning of Jaskier’s words fully sinks in, he says:

“Now, I don’t look twenty-five, do I?”

Geralt’s eyes fly open and it feels like he sees Jaskier for the first time, like he properly sees him for the first time. Because he’s right, He doesn’t look twenty-five. He looks twenty-one.

“It worked,” Geralt whispers.

The smile that Jaskier gives him is tired and small, but it still reaches his eyes.

“It worked,” he echoes. “And it gave me a reason to go on. Made me feel like I have it in me to keep looking for a way to break the curse without the constant fear of running out of time. And, gods, I’ve always been grateful for it but after I met you-- I’m happy I didn’t die that night.”

The words echo through Geralt’s mind what feels like a hundred times, and his chest gets so tight that he’s more than sure that his ribs are about to break.

He pulls Jaskier to his lips, kissing him with such desperation that it hurts, and Jaskier returns it fully, clinging onto Geralt’s shoulders. There is barely any air to breathe, but that doesn’t matter with just how much everything that he’d just heard makes Geralt feel.

“We’ll find a way to break it,” he whispers into Jaskier’s lips in-between kisses. “We will.”

“I know,” Jaskier nods. “I know, darling.”

He sounds exhausted, and though he’s not trembling anymore, Geralt knows that he needs to get some proper rest, needs to recover.

“You should go to bed,” he says softly, pressing a warm, chaste kiss to the bard’s forehead. “You’re tired.”

Jaskier hums something, hiding his face in the curve of Geralt’s shoulder for a few long seconds before breaking away and getting up, unsteady on his feet. Geralt does the same, never letting go of the bard’s hand.

“Geralt?” Jaskier calls softly, raising his head to meet the witcher’s eyes. “Could you stay with me for the night? After everything I’ve told you, I don’t want to be alone.”

Stay with him for the night.

Geralt’s heart skips a beat.

“Of course,” he says, closing his eyes when Jaskier leans into his arms again. “Of course, my love.”

[exhaustedfander]

Goddamn These Bite Marks, Deep in My Arteries

word count: 2,828

a03 link

Vampire!Logan in Analogical is something I’m so weak for, thusly, this oneshot exists. 

Virgil paces the floor, anxiety clouding every jumbled thought.  He’s been working himself up for weeks now, trying to find the best moment to brooch the subject. There were so many moments where things almost felt perfect, but then his nerves would kick in, or Logan would say something to completely change the subject.

Eventually, Virgil comes to the uncomfortable conclusion that no matter how much he wishes it worked otherwise they’ll never be a perfect time to say it. He’s just going to have to bite the bullet and spit it out. He can do that. Of course, he can do that…, right?

He has to do this, regardless of how terrified he is. And good lord, is he terrified.

It’s not as though Virgil thought this subject would never need to come up but dating a vampire doesn’t exactly come with an instruction pamphlet. He had no idea that he was going to meet Logan, like him more than he’s ever liked another person, and eventually fall so deeply in love that he can’t imagine himself with anyone else.

He’d gone into their relationship five years ago with very few expectations. Logan was cute, and he understood him, and they’d already been friends for some time and… and he was a vampire. Virgil supposes that would’ve been a deal-breaker for most people. Maybe it should’ve been for him too. Maybe it was the most logical way of thinking. But he couldn’t help it; he fell for Logan almost from the start, and he couldn’t stop if he tried.

Virgil’s learned a lot about vampirism in the last five years. For one thing, movies are usually a bunch of bullshit (Sexy, fun bullshit. But bullshit, nonetheless). Vampires don’t always have to drink human blood, though it is preferable, and they can eat some other foods, though it offers far less nutritional value than it would for humans. They aren’t strictly nocturnal, and the sunlight will not turn them to a pile of ashes the moment it makes contact with their skin (although Logan does get a wicked sunburn if he’s out too long without proper covering). Garlic does very little to ward off vampires, but garlic-breath does, unfortunately, ward off kisses.

Having one’s blood sucked isn’t nearly as painful as it’s often portrayed, nor as orgasmic. It’s just kind of… nice. Virgil’s always thought of it as a feeling of weightlessness, a kind of peace that’s hard to name, and even harder to find anyplace else. Honestly, he’s going to miss the feeling, if Logan agrees, that is.  

Logan isn’t home yet, but it isn’t uncommon for him to stay late at the lab. Virgil’s glad that Logan’s been able to find a profession that he’s happy in. He knows that Logan would be far more known in his field, were it not for the fact that he cannot stay forever. Vampires do not live forever, contrary to popular belief, but they do live for a very long time, and it looks quite suspicious if one works a job for decades and never really seems to age. Logan’s only been alive for about twenty more years than Virgil has, but he’s had several other jobs under other last names in the past, and this is by far the one he’s enjoyed the most.

His boyfriend is such a smart, competent scientist and he’s sure he’d be world-famous by now if he didn’t hold himself back at times in fear of his name and face becoming known. That would make running away and changing one’s identity all the more difficult.

Virgil knows this conversation won’t be an easy one. Logan has pointedly avoided the topic for some time. It’s not as though Virgil doesn’t know that this is a life-altering decision; or more of a life-ending decision, depending on how you look at it. He’s weighed the pros and cons time and time again, but in the end, he always comes to the same conclusion: Virgil wants this.

His determination doesn’t make him any less nervous when he hears the door to their apartment open as Logan unlocks it, his heart leaping in his chest.

“Hey. Sorry, I know I stayed late,” Logan says as he slips off his shoes and jacket, his voice thick with exhaustion, “It’s been a hell of a day.”

“It’s okay. Sorry you had a shitty day,” Virgil says, walking to the doorway and pulling him in for a kiss, but pulling away after a lack of response, “Hey, are you good?”

Logan doesn’t look good. His skin is always quite pale (a stereotype that holds up, but he also works in a lab most of the day), but it’s even more so now. The always-present bags under his eyes are far more severe than usual, rivaling the eye-shadow Virgil wears. Logan looks dead-tired, and god, that won’t do, will it?

“I’m…” Logan sways slightly where he stands, up-righted by Virgil, “…fine.”

“Bullshit,” Virgil says, eyeing him carefully, “When was the last time you had something to eat?”

“I’m – it hasn’t been too long,” Logan says, lying rather poorly, “Really, I’m okay. Just tired.”

“Alright. C’mere, you,” Virgil says assertively, grabbing Logan by the wrist and bringing him to the couch.

“Virgil, darling, this isn’t necessary. Besides, I’ve got a bit of research to do for…” Logan trails off, seeing the look of agitation on his boyfriend’s face.

“Nope. Absolutely not. You’re not bringing work home, and, you’re not skipping another meal. God, I haven’t even been paying attention lately; you’ve just been so busy lately. When was the last time you ate?”

“I…”

“Babe. This is serious. You need to tell me when you need something. And right now, you need to eat,” Virgil said, slipping off his hoodie and pulling at the collar of his T-shirt. “You look like you’re starving, L.”

“Virgil. We don’t need to do this right now. I just came home, I’m perfectly content with simply spending the evening with you. I promise I’ll be fine. There’s no need to fuss.”

“There’s a perfectly good reason to fuss,” Virgil huffs out, “You’re being so fucking stubborn for no reason. Besides, there’s... well, there’s kind of something I want to talk to you about.” Logan raises a quizzical eyebrow.

“Is anything the matter?” Logan asks, trying, and failing, to mask the quickly formed concern.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Virgil swears, “Now, c’mon, the quicker you sink your fangs in, the quicker I can satiate your curiosity.”

Logan sighs, defeated, but tired and very hungry.

“Fine.”

He gets up from the couch, going into the bathroom, and coming out with a first aid kit. Virgil’s always insisted that it’s okay and that he doesn’t need to go to all the trouble. For the most part, the bites stop bleeding almost immediately after he’s done feeding, but Logan has none of it.

“You’re the one who’s taking care of me. Please. Let me take care of you, too.”

It’s little rituals like this, pressing a bandage and a kiss to the wound when he’s finished that keeps Logan from feeling like a monster. That’s what he confessed to Virgil one night, years ago. That he felt like a monster sometimes.

Virgil’s always been clear to dispute this. Logan’s never killed, anyone. He’s never been unnecessarily cruel to anyone, and he’s always, always been so good to Virgil. His need to feed is not that of a monster, and Virgil’s assured him as much anytime he felt otherwise.

But that can’t stop doubt from creeping in, and Virgil understands that. So he lets Logan do things at his pace for the most part, and he lets him take care of him to his heart’s content (Virgil truly isn’t complaining about that. It’s nice, how eager Logan is to care for him).

“Are you alright? Are you comfortable?” Logan asks, just as he always does.

“Yeah, I’m all good,” Virgil assures. Logan nods, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. He’s starving, Virgil knows he is. “Go on, baby. It’s okay.”

Logan nods, first kissing Virgil vehemently.

“I love you,” Logan whispers reverently against Virgil’s lips, his fangs brushing just so.

“I love you too.”

Logan pulls away, his eyes meeting Virgil’s, and ah, there it is. His boyfriend’s eyes turn from their usual-blue to a striking crimson, the change in color happening in a manner of seconds, like watching a drop of blood cloud a glass of water. It isn’t hypnotism, per se. Virgil isn’t under Logan’s ever-command, but his gaze certainly sends a sense of calm washing over him. Logan cups Virgil’s face for a moment, still looking at him intensely and lovingly all at once before he presses his lips to Virgil’s neck and sinks his fangs in.

The initial pinprick of pain has always made Virgil shudder a little, even now, but he’s far more prepared for it than he had been in the past. Quickly, though, the pain subsides to something stranger, more far-off. His back presses into the couch as Logan has a hand on either side of his neck, sucking and lapping the blood, Virgil lingering in the bliss.

When he’s finished, Logan removes his fangs, mouth only slightly bloodied.

“Thank you,” he says, whipping his lip and quickly reaching for the first aid kit on the coffee table.

“You’re welcome, Lo,” Virgil says, still a little lost in the feeling. He smiles faintly as a bandage is pressed to his neck. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” Logan says, his exhaustion seeming to have faded significantly. “I dare say you were right, I needed that more than I was aware. How about you? Are you alright, my love?” Virgil can’t help but smile dopily at that.

“I’m fine. Great. I love it when you call me that, you know that?” Logan chuckles, his eyes back to their normal blue, and fangs having receded.

“I do. Now, let me go get you something to eat.”

“You don’t have to,” Virgil says, only slightly light-headed, “I already had dinner.” Logan’s already on his feet.

“Now, I’ll have none of that,” he tuts, sounding as insistent as Virgil had moments prior, “You just gave blood – so to speak. It’s important to rehydrate and eat something rich in sugar to replenish your red blood cells.” Logan’s rummaging in the cupboard, looking for a snack.

It’s now or never, Virgil thinks to himself suddenly, realizing that if he doesn’t say something right this minute, he’s going to chicken out for the night and have to work himself up again later.

“Hey L?”

“Yes?”

“I…” God, this is harder than it should be! “I want…”

"What would you like? We have crackers, cookies –.”

“I want you to turn to me!” Virgil shudders at the sound of something clattering the floor in the kitchen. He turns around on the sofa, seeing the look of terror in his lover’s eyes.

“Dear Lord, did I take too much blood? Virgil, do you feel faint?” Logan asks, suddenly hovering over him, his eyes scanning over him.

“What? No – no, I’m fine. My head’s super clear. I’m being serious: I want you to turn me.”

“You… you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course I do!” Virgil says, zealousness bubbling with each word. He looks into Logan’s eyes, searching desperately for something, anything, that will further his argument. “Logan. Babe. I love you so, so much. I’m crazy about you, and I can’t see myself stopping anytime soon.” Logan swallows, the sound scared and tight.

“I- I love you, too. Virgil you know I love you, but –.”

“But what? You mean absolutely everything to me, and – and I can’t lose you. I want to keep being with you. Don’t you want to keep being with me?”

Virgil hates how desperate he sounds. A fear suddenly creeps into his mind, one he hadn’t yet considered: what if Logan doesn’t want this. He loves him now, but will he ten years from now? Twenty? A hundred? What if he hasn’t imagined a life with Virgil at all? What if he’s nothing more than a momentary distraction? What if –

A cold hand settles on top of his, their fingers lacing together.

“Yes,” says Logan, his voice tight and quiet, “I want to keep being with you. I adore being with you, dear. And I intend to do so for as long as I’m able.”

“But how long is that?” Virgil asks, the fear holding him in a death-grip, “How long until you need to leave this town and change your name?”

“I –.”

“I want to come with you when you go.”

“Virgil, you know how I feel about this subject.”

“No, I fucking don’t!” Virgil says, voice gaining in volume, hand still intertwined with Logan’s, grip tightening, “Because you never want to talk about it! Any time I’ve brought it up in the past you’ve just brushed it aside. Well, guess what? I’m not letting you do that right now. Why can’t you talk about it? What’re you so scared of?” Logan lets out a sigh, long and filled with frustration.

“Virgil… do you realize what you’re asking of me?” Virgil huffs out a breath, nodding.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Do you really? Do you understand how much you’d be asking me to take from you? You’re asking me to take your life away.”

“I want you, Logan. That’s all I want.”

“You’d need to go with me when I left town. We’d both need to change our identities often, to change occupations. We couldn’t let people grow suspicious.”

“I know.”

“And we’d both need to,” Logan squeezes his eyes shut, cringing at the word, “…hunt. Be it human or animal, I could not rely on you anymore, and you could not rely on me.”

“I know that too. I’ve already thought this all through, Logan. I mean it.”

“You could live such a different life, Virgil. There are so many possibilities that would disappear the moment I… if you were to regret this, there would be no going back. No reversing it.”

“What’ve you been planning for the future then, Logan. Were you just going to disappear one day?”

“I – well. This was your apartment before it was ours. I was considering –.”

“Leaving me,” Virgil finishes, and goddamn it, there are tears in his eyes.

“Sparing you,” Logan counters, “Of a very long existence with me.”

“Don’t you get it, Lo?” Virgil asks, letting go of Logan’s hand, his eyes landing on the floor. “I’ve thought through all of these variables a hundred times. You’re the best part of my life. Most of your friends are my friends too. And, newsflash, they’re vampires, too. I know that it’s a huge decision, a-and that it’s scary. I know it’s a lot. B-but I’ve never been as sure of something as I am about this. Never.”

Logan frowns, his thumb swiping over Virgil’s falling tears.

“You’re… you’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” It hurts Virgil, how unworthy of this Logan clearly feels. He'll have a lifetime of proving him otherwise, and a long one at that.

“Of course I am,” Virgil sniffles. “I’ve been thinking about it forever I just – I didn’t know how to say it.”

“The thought of having to leave you has haunted me so much these last few years,” Logan admits after a moment of tense quiet, “I didn’t know how I was going to bring myself to do it. And, as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t ask you to do this. I couldn’t do that to you.”

“Well, you don’t have to,” Virgil says firmly, hope flickering in his chest, “Because I’m asking you.”

“And you’re sure this is what you want?” Logan takes a shuddery breath, “You’re… you’re sure I’m what you want?”

“More than anything,” Virgil promises, grabbing hold of both of Logan’s hands.

“Okay,” Logan says after a long, agonizing moment. “I’ll give you a few days, to get anything in order that you feel you need to. And it’ll be just a little more time to back out if you so choose to.” Virgil nods quickly.

“I won’t need it, but okay. But, Logan, baby, do you really mean it?”

“If this is what you’re comfortable with, and it’s what you want then… yes. Yes, I want this too.”

Logan suddenly finds himself with a lapful of Virgil, a pair of lips enthusiastically pressed to his.

“I love you, Logan. I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you, too, darling,” Logan says, a weight he wasn’t even aware of suddenly lifted from his shoulders.

The couple basks in the feeling, their shared enthusiasm and fulfilled desires, thinking of a long future together. Logan’s still scared and can’t be sure when or if those fears will ever entirely subside. But he didn’t need to ask this of Virgil; Virgil asked him. They know they can be together, and tonight, that’s more than enough.

=+=

General Taglist:

@nadiestar

@unoriginalgayboyalex 

@bella-in-a-bag

@igonnatalknothing

@elizabutgayer

@wishthefish916

@reptilianwithscallions 

@justmeandmygayships

@arodynamic-enby

[jenniferxprentiss]

with my calamitous love (and insurmountable grief)

jj/emily -> read it on ao3 here

“I just want to be a real mom.” Her voice was broken, lips quivering as she looked down at her hands, at her bitten down fingernails and chipped nail polish, a testament to the mental turmoil she had been experiencing.

tw: infertility, canon abortion mention, post-Doyle fic.

————

this is a very personal fic to me, and though I will never know that it’s like to be stabbed in the abdomen with the leg of a table and have my internal organs ripped to shreds like Emily Prentiss experienced, I feel this fic very personally in other ways, and if this fic brightens anyone’s day or is as cathartic to them as it was to me, then I’ve done my job w this one

please do not read if you’re at all triggered by infertility, as this fic centers around it as a main theme. just lookin out for y’all

as always, reviews are appreciated

xo

————

The crushing weight of guilt mixed with sadness hit her like a ton of bricks, watching JJ ghost her hand over the subtle swell of her stomach, still mostly concealed by her flowy tops but prominent enough for Emily to know it was there. A sadness that she would never be enough — never have this experience that JJ did, thanks to Doyle — and guilt over feeling so heartbroken.

JJ looked over in her direction, their eyes locking and Emily noticed the worried furrow of her brow, the way she silently asked if she was alright. Emily nodded, forcing the corners of her lips to turn upwards in a plasticine, practiced smile.

It wasn’t that there was a lack of joy, because god, she was the happiest woman in the world to watch her wife happy and pregnant, her face positively glowing — it was that she felt a sense of failure. Failure to grow their family, unable to become a true mother.

She watched JJ from across their backyard, leaning back in a chair and half engaged in a conversation with Garcia, eyes darting between her and Henry.

That little boy was the light of Emily’s life, and she knew he was JJ and Will’s too. She felt the familiar sting of tears in her throat watching him play, climbing to the top of the slide and shouting triumphantly and racing down. He spotted her across the yard, ran to her and nearly knocked her down with his force, arms wrapping around her middle in a tight hug.

“Mom!” He was breathless, face reddened from the heat and exertion. “Did you see me? I climbed all the way to the top!”

She swallowed back her tears, choked back the emotion that would make her voice waver and uneasy and focused all of her love, all of her energy on him. Her fingers brushed through his sweat dampened hair — blonde like JJ’s, but curly on the ends like Will’s — and smiled down at him, gaze tender and full of adoration for this tiny little person that held so much space in her heart.

“Oh, did I ever! You were so fast, Hen, like lightning. I wish I were as fast as you, really.”

There was a silence between them, Emily unable to look up from the little boy’s face, counted his freckles in the rapidly setting summer sun and felt herself getting choked up again. He hugged her so tightly, so hard, and she couldn’t think of anywhere else she’d rather be.

Her hand came down to the space between his tiny shoulder blades, pressed him into her for just a second longer before she released him, tiny body squirming against hers and anxious to get back to the slide and swings. Tears pricked at her eyes again and she dabbed at her face, hoping desperately that no one would notice her moment of weakness.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Emily noticed JJ stand and cross the patio, concern etched deep into her features. She tapped Rossi on the shoulder, whispered something in his ear, and Emily had to stifle a sob as she slipped through their back door, guilt settling on her shoulders once again. She couldn’t stop being a distraction for one simple dinner with the team.

Inside their home, the tears began to flow freely, and Emily tried to choke back her sobs. She couldn’t let JJ see her like this — couldn’t explain why she felt this way. She was standing at the bottom of their staircase when the door shut again, quieter than when she had passed through it, heard JJ’s gentle footsteps approaching.

“Emily…”

The brokenness in JJ’s voice nearly broke Emily, choking out a sob into her hand, clapped over her mouth. They knew no one would dare come in the house right now, wouldn’t intrude on their privacy, but Emily still felt too exposed in their foyer.

She extended her arm, took JJ’s hand in her own and squeezed gently — a reassurance of sorts — before guiding her up the stairs to their bedroom. Emily closed and locked the door, let out a small chuckle at the fact that she locked the door when anyone could hear them if they wanted to.

When she turned, she felt the corners of her lips twitch upwards in a half smile at the way JJ was already reclined against the headboard waiting for her.

Emily allowed herself to curl up into JJ, head resting on her shoulder and hands entwined as she let herself cry, shoulders shaking softly. JJ’s free hand ran up and down Emily’s back, rubbing soothing circles and whispering in her ear.

“Em… shh, love, you’ll be alright.” JJ’s heart was breaking at Emily’s sadness, the way she curled in on herself when she sobbed. “Everything is going to be alright.”

Her tears subsided at JJ’s calming tone, the way she was passing her thumb over the back of her hand and rubbing circles into her back. She waited until she felt like she could speak without crying again, thanking god for JJ’s patience and love, picked her head up and wiped at her face with the back of her hand before looking at her wife pointedly.

“I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck, Em?”

“I’m sorry I distracted you from dinner, that I couldn’t hold it in until everyone left.”

“No.” JJ’s voice was firm, authoritative. She pushed the overgrown bangs out of Emily’s eyes, in that moment realizing how small and fragile she felt. “No, you’re going to talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. I can’t help if you don’t talk to me, baby, and I just want to help you.”

Emily let out a sigh, hand coming up to scrub at her face with her sleeve before looking back up. She wasn’t quite able to meet JJ’s eyes, instead staring across the room, her eyes settling upon the pictures hung in a gallery on their wall.

There were pictures from their wedding — of them and Henry smiling brightly, the tiny boy squished between them with so much love on their faces — among pictures from their regular family photo sessions. Her lips twitched up in a small smirk at the picture from Henry’s birthday, the entire team crowded around the boy as he blew out his candles.

She knew there would never be judgement from JJ — knew that she could never be angry with her for a feeling that was purely biological — but still there was a flutter of anxiety in her stomach, the fear of rejection wound so deep in her personality that it almost made her choke up again.

“I’m so happy, Jayje, I promise I am…”

It was a half truth and they both knew it, knew by the sunken sadness in Emily’s eyes that there was more to her statement. JJ waited patiently, hand rubbing gentle circles on the small of Emily’s back, her gaze soft as she watched her wife — watched the way she chewed at her bottom lip, teeth worrying at the already peeling skin. She brushed her fingers across Emily’s lips in a gentle reminder, smiled softly when she released her lip and smiled sheepishly back at JJ.

“But?”

“But I’m mourning.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I didn’t ever want to be a mom, not a real mom, until I couldn’t — until I had that option ripped away from me.”

In truth, Emily never wanted children — couldn’t bear the thought of screwing them up the way her mother had done her — but there was a glimmer of hope when she started dating JJ, when she felt herself slipping so comfortably into the role of step mom.

She would think about it sometimes, late at night with Henry dozing in her lap in the rocking chair, always taking the night wake ups after the little boy no longer woke up to feed. Emily would think about Henry with a little sibling, never able to clearly picture the gender, but always seeing a little raven haired child running alongside him.

And then it happened — Doyle happened, and it nearly broke her.

She remembered waking up in the hospital, JJ and Hotch sitting in the corner of the room, their faces crumpling with a mixture of relief and fear — remembered how the doctor told her solemnly that Doyle had destroyed her reproductive system, that she had a full hysterectomy and children wouldn’t be an option for her.

At the time, the only thing that mattered was that she was there, alive and with her family — their little boy snuggled against her side in the hospital bed when she could sit up without pain, a proud beam on JJ’s face from where she sat.

But now? Now that they were growing their family by one heart and two little feet? Emily felt such a myriad of emotions that she could barely sort through it.

Anger, at Doyle mostly, but also at herself for not being able to defend herself — for being unable to carry a child of her own. The jealousy and guilt ripped at her heart, though, and she didn’t know how she could feel so much joy and so much sadness at the same time.

“I just want to be a real mom.” Her voice was broken, lips quivering as she looked down at her hands, at her bitten down fingernails and chipped nail polish, a testament to the mental turmoil she had been experiencing.

“Emily… what do you think you are?” JJ cupped Emily’s cheek with her hand, thumb stroking over the tear tracks gently. “You’re Henry’s mother. You’re this baby’s mother in every sense of the word. He or she is just as much yours as Henry is, you know this.”

The logical part of Emily's brain knew that JJ was right, that she was just as much of a mother as she was, but the irrational, anxiety riddled part of her told her that she wasn’t enough — that Henry already had parents and she was merely an intruder in their situation.

“But you and Will are Henry’s parents… you’re Henry’s mom.”

“No, we’re Henry’s moms. He can have two moms, you know? He can have a bit of a dysfunctional family. He calls Rossi grandpa. He calls your mom grandma.” JJ ran her hand through Emily’s hair gently, her fingers threading through her dark hair. “You’re a real mom, honey.”

“I’ll never have that… not like you do.”

She was right, and JJ couldn’t argue it — she knew that Emily harbored a lot of self resentment for her choices in the past, knew that Emily often regretted her decisions. Her fingers pulled through tangled raven locks, gathering Emily’s hair into a ponytail in the way she knew helped comfort her.

“I don’t know how to make that better, and I wish I could.”

JJ’s words were sincere, but Emily could see the fire at the back of her gaze. The way her nostrils flared a touch and her breathing quickened, chest rising and falling rapidly — knew that JJ could never be upset with her, that she was upset with the situation.

She had so much anger for Doyle, filed in a slot at the back of her mind, couldn’t let herself think about it too much or else the hot, angry tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and threatened to spill over. It wasn’t just anger, but a deep sadness she felt every time she ghosted her fingertips across the prominent scars on Emily’s abdomen, the brand on her chest.

He had taken so much from them — so much from Emily — and JJ couldn’t think about him without feeling a ball of resentment in her stomach. With therapy, she had learned to replace the resentment with pride — that her wife could fight and survive and most importantly, overcome — but sometimes it was hard to push past the feelings of anger and resentment.

“I just want to feel it.” Emily sniffled, her bottom lip ensnared between her teeth again. “I know it sucks and everyone hates it but I just want to know. About the kicks and the hiccups and the way a baby feels. And I know I can feel them through you in just a few weeks but fuck, it isn’t the same.”

JJ was silent for a moment, fingertips still massaging at Emily’s scalp. She had to collect her thoughts, to swallow past the sob she threatened to let out — knew that it wasn’t the time, that this was about Emily and her emotions, not JJ’s anger with Doyle and what he took from her wife.

“Emily…” She let out a puff of air, gathered Emily into her arms the best she could and dropped a tender kiss to the mess of dark hair on her chest. “You know that I’ll never judge you, right? That I’ll never be angry that you’re upset and hurting. Your sadness doesn’t detract from your joy for this baby, for our child.”

JJ smiled when she felt Emily’s hand rest gently on her abdomen, moved her own hand to rest on Emily’s and trace over her fingers. She felt the soft curve of Emily’s lips against her collarbone, pressing gentle kisses into the soft skin she found there.

“I can’t say I know how you feel, just like you don’t know what I’m experiencing… but I promise I’ll meet you in the middle. If you need to be angry and sad, I’ll sit with you in that anger and sadness until you’re ready to move past it. For better or for worse, remember?”

Emily nodded into JJ’s chest, her face still buried against her skin. She inhaled deeply, dizzy from the mixture of the smell of outside mixed with JJ’s favorite perfume — one they had bought together in Paris when they went on their first vacation without Henry. It was floral, and Emily insisted that it smelled the best on JJ and she should be the only one to wear it.

Ever since their trip she had imported the tiny bottles for JJ, always wrapping their boxes in rose gold paper. JJ’s little hitched breath full of excitement at the small box always made Emily giddy, usually giving it to her after they returned from a tough case, or more frequently, when she began to notice JJ’s gentle pout as her bottle started to run empty.

They settled entwined for just a moment longer, Emily curled into JJ’s chest as she reclined against the headboard, her hand resting between Emily’s shoulder blades. She let her head fall, face buried in dark hair as she waited for Emily to feel secure enough to break apart, knew that she wouldn’t want to talk much more — not now.

There was a girlish scream outside their window, followed by maniacal laughter from Henry, both women chuckling softly at the thought of their son tormenting his Uncle Spencer. Knowing him, he was probably chasing Reid with the water hose, laughing hysterically.

Emily sat up, untangling herself from JJ’s embrace, her lips curving upward in a small, shy smile. Her face was puffy, eyes red rimmed from the tears that seemed flow forever, sadness pent up over weeks and months — from the time they left the hospital after her attack, really.

“Thank you.” Her voice was barely a whisper, looking into JJ’s eyes with a steely gaze of her own.

“Thank you for talking to me about how you’re feeling.”

JJ was sincere in her sentiment, dabbing a tissue across Emily’s face gently. She was so proud of her for speaking up — for speaking without fear of judgement — because even though she knew that JJ would never be upset with her, it was a challenge to be open, to speak her mind. It wasn’t a luxury she ever had before she joined the team, before she found a family of her own.

The soft thud of little feet running through their downstairs living room made them break apart once more, JJ letting out a soft, rumbly chuckle when they heard Derek call after Henry.

“Do you think I have time to clean myself up?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell everyone your stomach was hurting… must have been the burgers or something.”

The corners of Emily’s lips turned up in a smirk, letting out a breath of a laugh. She leaned forward, hands coming up to cup JJ’s cheeks and pulling her close, pressing their lips together tenderly. She smiled into their kiss, lips barely brushing before she pulled back, genuine smile on her lips.

“Must have been the burgers, hm?”

“Or something.” JJ stood, making her way to the bedroom door, hand lingering on the doorknob as she looked at Emily — watched the way her eyes twinkled when she smiled.

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

“We’ll be waiting.”

Emily watched as JJ shut the door behind her, giving her a bit of privacy while she freshened herself up. She felt her lips tugging up in a goofy, girlish smile at the way JJ said ‘we’ — knew that she didn’t mean the team, she meant their little family.

Her wife, their son, their little baby growing inside of her. The family that Emily never thought she’d have, but couldn’t imagine her life without.

@heat-waveee @anepiphany @ssaemilyprentits @f-m27 @whiskey-fluent

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

neighbors

request: Can you do 14 with Tyson Jost?

prompt: “We're not just friends and you fucking know it.” / number 14 off of this list with Tyson Jost.

summary: It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that you would fall for your adorable neighbor Tyson.

warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing

word count: 1.9k

You didn't exactly plan on crushing on your neighbor, nor did you plan on having him over for dinner three nights a week. Shortly after moving in, though, you realized the cute brunette who lived in the apartment next door had limited survival skills. 

Tyson Jost may be a professional athlete, but he had next to zero domestic capabilities and you had found that out one day, completely by chance. You were upset after having been bailed on this guy you were seeing on and off, and after receiving a text from him that he was getting back with his ex, and that whatever was going on between the two of you was over. You wouldn't have been so furious if he hadn’t asked to you cook dinner for him before dropping the bombshell. 

You turned off the stove and were about to head to the store to pick up a much needed bottle of wine when you heard your neighbor bickering with his friend outside their door. You weren’t completely dumb, you recognized them as Tyson Jost and JT Compher from Denver’s very own Colorado Avalanche. 

“You’re not cooking, Josty. I’d rather not get food poisoning.” The redhead teased as they stood outside Tyson’s door. They were debating on where to go and you couldn’t help but overhear as you dug around in your bag to try and find you keys in order to lock your door. 

“I really don’t want to go out, though.” Tyson explained, and you suddenly felt braver than you usually did. You figured your boost of confidence was due to annoyance for being bailed on and played. 

“I, uh, have a whole meal cooked if you guys want to come over?” You offered, both men snapping their heads to you. You felt your cheeks heat up, but then a wide smile broke out across Tyson’s face. You were a little consoled by the fact that his face turned a little red too. 

“Are you sure? We don’t want to intrude?” JT spoke first, gesturing between himself and Tyson, the latter of which who hadn't stopped smiling at you.  “Trust me, no one’s showing up to intrude on.” You replied, a little sad but mostly upset and JT nodded at you with a comforting smile on his face. Tyson must not have understood what you meant, because he was looking between his teammate and his neighbor, trying to figure out what he could’ve missed. 

“Do you want us to bring anything?” Tyson gave up on trying to silently ask JT to catch him up, instead turning to you and gesturing with his thumb into his own apartment. 

“Just a bottle of wine.” You grinned, leaning against the frame of your door and watching as the two boys chuckled.  “Unless you don’t like chicken and veggies, I’ve got everything.” 

“I’m Tyson, by the way.” He introduced himself, walking closer to you as JT slipped back into his teammate’s apartment, muttering that he wanted to pick the wine. 

“I know.” You told Tyson, entering back into your apartment and moving back into the kitchen, the food you had abandoned on the counter still warm. You turned back to find Tyson leaning against the counter, taking in the room and cataloging how different the way you decorated was to his apartment. “Kind of a big hockey fan.”

It was then that Tyson’s attention returned to you, and with a smile he watched as you stood on your tip-toes to reach the wine glasses, you giving him your name as casually as you could with someone as attractive as him studying you. You heard him chuckle behind you, crossing the small kitchen easily to grab three glasses for you.

“You should probably put these on the lower shelf.” Tyson teased, and you rolled your eyes. 

“We can’t all be six feet tall and a professional athlete.” You teased back, feeling a lot less upset than you should for someone who just found out they’d been strung along for the better part of two months. 

“Well, I’ll try to use my advantages for good.” Tyson teased, and before you could respond with something witty, and maybe even a little flirty, JT knocked on you front which you had left open for him. You were glad he announced his arrival, you didn’t want him walking in and embarrassing yourself by him possibly overhearing your banter. 

Two months later and you still hadn’t moved the wine glasses to a lower shelf. But, turns out, it didn’t matter much, because on most nights when you wanted to break out the wine, you were accompanied by your new best friend and neighbor, Tyson Jost.

Of course, with his crazy hockey schedule, he wasn’t always there, but he was at your place enough and you had developed a crush on him. It felt practically inevitable, with how attractive he was and his sheer adorableness. He would say things that were pretty oblivious, and sometimes downright dumb, but it was endearing and you quickly found yourself swooning. 

“Tys, what are you doing?” You questioned, somewhat serious though thoroughly amused. He had been clattering in your kitchen for the past fifteen minutes, saying that he wanted to cook you dinner in return for feeding him so often and that you had to stay in the living room so you wouldn’t ruin the surprise. You question was met with the crash of pots and pans, and you heard Tyson swear lowly.

“Uh, cooking?” He sounded so unsure of himself, and probably due to good reason, that you laughed loudly at him. You paused the show you were watching, walking to your kitchen but before you could enter the room, he heard you footsteps and yelled for you to stay out. “I want it to be a surprise when I’m done.” You could hear the pout in his voice, and a smile tugged the corner of your lips upwards.

“Well, I don’t trust you to be in the kitchen alone.” You stood just outside kitchen, complying with his wishes but voicing your thoughts. 

“Don’t worry, I’m helping him.” A female voice called from your kitchen, and you furrowed your brows tightly, wondering just when someone else had shown up and how they had managed to sneak past you into the kitchen. Then you placed the voice as someone you had met a few times through Tyson. Mel Landeskog, the wife of his captain. The swell of jealously that grew in your chest at the thought of someone else being with Tyson turned into warmth that he had called his captain's wife for cooking tips.

You pointedly ignored the fact that you momentarily turned green with jealousy. 

“Hi, Mel.” You chuckled, hearing her laugh in response. “Just make sure he doesn’t burn my apartment down, please.” With a laugh she promised to keep your kitchen safe and told you that she was making sure whatever food Tyson made was edible, to which he protested indignantly.

Laughing in amusement, you returned to your spot on the couch to let him finish cooking and left you to analyze your whole situation with the professional hockey player cooking you dinner. You knew things had always been a little bit flirty with him, but he had never done anything past a few compliments followed by him blushing profusely. 

By the time that he had told you everything was set up for you in the kitchen, your thoughts had spiraled into overanalyzing every interaction you’ve ever had with him. He met you in the doorway of the kitchen, his large frame blocking your view from whatever he had done on the other side. 

Your heart was thundering in your chest as you took in his appearance. He was dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a comfortable sweater with the sleeves pushed up. To make the whole scenario more domestic, he had a dish towel tossed over his shoulder. He was smiling widely at you, nervously wringing his hands in front of him. 

“Close your eyes, and then I'm going to lead you into the kitchen.” There was a nervous edge to his voice that didn’t help calm you. When you nodded and closed your eyes, Tyson moved from the doorway to stand beside you, placing his hand over your eyes. “Just to make sure you're not peaking.” 

“You make me nervous.” You sighed, ignoring the flutter in your stomach at his touch. His other hand fell to the small of your back to help lead you around, and as soon as you entered the kitchen you were met with the smell of pasta that drew a soft smile onto your face. He only moved you a few feet into the so soon enough he was stopping you. 

“Okay, so before you open you eyes, just know that I totally plan on doing the dishes later.” He explained, and though the comment drew a breathy chuckle out of you, it did nothing to soothe the fear that some drastic change was about to happen between you and Tyson. The air was charged with an almost unreadable energy, and all you could do was nod at him. 

Tyson removed his hand from its place covering your eyes and when you took in the sight before you, you felt your jaw drop. He had set your kitchen table with plates of spaghetti and your favorite roasted vegetables, a meal easy enough that he wouldn't screw it up, especially with Mel’s help. A couple candles were lit on the table and counters, and he had even gone as far setting up a bouquet of flowers next to a bottle of champagne. 

“I know that this is a lot, considering we’re just friends...” Tyson trailed off and you shook your head, dismissing any negative thoughts he might've formed about your silence. Your thoughts were racing a thousand miles a minute as your heart thundered in your chest. “If it's too much, then I can just go—”

“We're not just friends and you fucking know it.” You cut him off, knowing that if you didn't get it off your chest now you never would. You spun slightly, turning away from the table and towards him, who had been shuffling nervously on his feet behind you trying to gauge your reaction. He was looking at you with a confused look on his face, but it was obvious that he had been blushing profusely. “Tyson, we’re not just friends.”

“Yeah, we’re not.” He agreed, smiling dumbly. The overwhelmed look on your face morphed into a grin as you realized your bold statement had been just as true for him as it was for you. “Friends don’t do all this, I guess.” He gestured to the table and you laughed.

“No, they don’t.” You agreed, your voice barely above a whisper. You couldn't hold yourself back anymore, not when he was standing in the candlelight, surrounded by the smell of good food and looking so domestic. 

You launched yourself at him, cupping his cheeks in your hands and pulling him down slightly to meet you halfway as you pushed yourself up onto your tippy toes to crash your lips onto his. He leaned down after you, not keen on breaking the kiss so soon as you balanced yourself back on your feet. His hands settled on your waist, and even when you pulled back for air he didn't remove them. Still, he was smiling at you with his adorable grin and even when you spoke next and your cheeks hurt from your own grin your voice was still hushed.

“C’mon, Tys, let’s see if you’re as bad a cook as JT says.”

[bisexualpirateheart]

Written for @fieryfurniss, for the prompt ‘Joy’. <333

                                 You're A Sweet Relief

                                                ~ * ~ 

“What’s he up to?” Silver asked curiously.

Thomas followed his gaze to where Flint was leaning against the wooden fence chatting to a lad from one of the neighboring farms.

“I have no idea.” Thomas murmured.

He went back to the book he had been reading while Silver resumed shucking the corn he was working at. From time to time both of their gazes occasionally returned to Flint still at the fence, still conversing.

It wasn’t as though the man wasn’t allowed to have secrets. Thomas knew that. They all had them after all. But there was something about the way Flint had been the last week that made him curious now. Silver too, he could tell.

Still, presumably Flint would tell them when he was ready.

They had come to a compromise on the name. Try as he did, Silver had struggled with calling Flint James. Truthfully when Thomas watched them together, he didn’t see James either.

And yet there was still James in this man who slept in the large wooden bed in their small bedroom. The man who had taken to farming with a zest that frankly Thomas was a little alarmed by. The man who read on the porch with him in the evenings. Yes, James was still here.

One year in and here they were together. At times Thomas could scarcely believe it. He looked around the porch, at Silver working quietly beside him, eyes intent on his task. His hair had grown longer, pulled back in an untidy ponytail. Flint too had let his hair return to the length it was when they first met. It suits them both and gave Thomas to hold on to at times.

                                                 *  *  *

He had meant to finish his book but he kept gazing at Silver instead.

“Something fascinating about corn that I don’t know?” Silver murmured, his hands still shucking busily.

“Mmmm.” Thomas said idly. He lifted one of his bare feet to press familiarly into Silver’s thigh. “Not particularly, no.”

Silver gave him a look and Thomas considered abandoning his book altogether for the rest of the afternoon.

Just then he looked up to see Flint leading their one horse up to the porch with their cart attached.

“Going somewhere?” Thomas inquired.

“Yes,” Silver looked up from the corn. “Where’re you going?”

“Where’re we going.” Flint corrected. “Go inside and put on a shirt.” He said this pointedly to Silver.

“I’ve shucked all this corn.” Silver protested. “It’s ready for dinner.” He held up the bowl as proof of his labors.

“The corn can wait.” Flint said firmly. “Put on your shirt and get in the cart.”

Silver went inside, grumbling under his breath, carrying his bowl of corn with him.

“What about me?” Thomas inquired, amused. “Am I acceptable for whatever it is you’re planning?”

“You’re always acceptable.” Flint said, smiling at him. “But actually, you do need to go change as well. Come on.” He made a hurrying gesture and Thomas went, bemused but curious.

                                                *  *  *

Once they were presentable, Silver got settled into the back of the cart and Flint and Thomas sat up front. This meant that Silver kept asking questions from the back, and occasionally poking both of them in the buttocks when he didn’t get an answer.

As they got closer to the village, the horse’s ears pricked up nervously. Thomas didn’t blame it. There was quite a commotion of noise happening inside the village. Drums, fiddles and tin whistles, along with laughter and song.

Flint drew the cart around along the tiny village green where most of the commotion seemed to be centered. There were other carts there, horses tied to the hitching posts.

“What is all this?” Silver looked around in surprise.

“This.” Flint pulled the horse to a stop and jumped down. “Is the summer festival.” He walked around to the back of the cart and unlatched the back so Silver could slide down. Not before Flint slid his hands around his hips, pulling Silver close to him for a moment. Revenge for all the poking.

“Hmmm.” Silver said, “And what’s the summer festival have to do with us?” He sucked in a breath as Flint’s body pressed against his.

“I thought it would be a nice idea.” Flint said, drawing back. He looked over Silver’s shoulder at Thomas.

                                                   *  *  *

As much Silver had no idea why Flint wanted them to be here, he couldn’t help going along with it. He followed Flint and Thomas over to the green, greeting the few villagers they had gotten to know in their year here.

There was ale and mulled wine, and when the dancing started, Silver caught the longing look Thomas was giving the dancers running to begin.

“Go on.” He nudged Thomas’s shoulder. “Join them.”

“Are you sure?” Thomas asked immediately.

“Yes, go on.” Silver told him, watching as Thomas reached for Flint’s hand, drawing him into the dance.

He settled on a bench with a cup of mulled wine, watching them with amusement.

He’d expected there to be jealousy when he found Flint and Thomas. And instead, there had been a welcome, a contentment, the settling of a familiar rhythm between the three of them. And there underneath that there was a feeling that it had taken Silver nearly this entire year to decipher. He’d never been familiar with it before.

This quiet joy inside him was still so new. He was half afraid it would desert him if he named it. Still, as he watched Thomas and Flint dancing together, he knew sooner or later he would speak it. It was only fair, he thought, that they knew how happy he was to be here with them.

                                                 *  *  *

When the dancing had died down and the afternoon had faded into the dusk of twilight, there was food to be eaten and more wine. The commotion of the earlier part had swayed into a lazy contented lull of feasting and merriment.

“What is this truly about?” Silver asked when they were settled the three of them were settled by one of the fires. One of the village lasses was singing softly as the fiddle players continued their ballads. The first glimpses of stars were present in the soft blue gray of the sky overhead.

He sat between Flint and Thomas, Thomas’s legs pressed against his, Flint leaning forward slightly to feed another branch to the fire.

There was a moment of quiet with only the crackle of the fire and the soft tune melding with the melody of the girl’s voice on the other side of the green.

Silver waited, lazily contented, as Thomas’s hand strayed over his hip and clasped Silver’s in his.

Flint finished with the fire and sat back, looking at him.

“It just so happens to coincide with the night we got you to stay.” Flint said quietly.

Silver stared at him helplessly. “What?”

Flint gave a little shrug. “One year today we’ve all been together. Isn’t that worth celebrating?” He looked from Silver to Thomas and back again. The twilight cast golden purple shadows across his face and Silver felt a stab in his heart, razor sharp and strong. It was as though he had been cut open with his heart exposed for all to see. Simply by Flint offering this.

“You sentimental…” Silver started and then couldn’t even finish the words. Instead he reached up and kissed Flint fiercely, cupping his face with both hands. “I love you.” He whispered into Flint’s beard.

“Good.” Flint said gruffly. “Because I love you too.”

He turned to Thomas, reaching for him, his hand entwining with Thomas’s broad fingers, before drawing Silver’s hand into his other one.

“We’re very fortunate.” Thomas murmured, gazing at their hands. That’s what Flint was thinking, he knew. He knew he was right when Flint leaned in and kissed him.

                                               *  *  *

Later when the fires had died down and they returned to the cart, starting the journey home. Silver curled up in the back of the cart and fell asleep nearly immediately. Flint held the reins lazily as they made their way along the dirt road.

“How did you manage it?” Thomas asked.

“How’d I manage what?”

“Arranging the festival to fall on today?” Thomas glanced at him. “I knew it was to be sometime this week. I heard one of the lads talking, but the coincidence…”

Flint chuckled in the dark. “I gave the village head one of those casks of wine we had stored. He was very amenable. It was no trouble to make sure the festival happened on a particular day.”

Thomas smiled.

“It mattered.” Flint murmured. “I wanted today to be remembered.” He glanced backward into the cart at the sleeping figure of Silver.

Thomas leaned in and kissed his cheek. “You know this just mean next year he’ll cook something up in return.”

“I look forward to it.” Flint said, straightening up a little as the road curves to the break which led to their little farm.

Next year they would celebrate again. Next year they would all be together still. Next year…It formed a perfect joyous rhythm in Flint’s heart as the cart made its way up the path to their home.

[beerecordings]

Bee, do you have bastard cats au fluff? Please? Do the kitties know that chase loves them very much? You don’t have to answer but I’d appreciate it

yes of course my friend!! ninja if you want something in specific i will even write u a lil fic or something you just let me know!! also i am always up for talking about my kitty boys but i never do without prompting haha. okay let’s see what we got

Chase used to think cats were a little like girly - like he didn’t look down on women with cats or anything like that but he just always thought his friends would kind of make fun of him if he was like a cat guy so he was always like “uhh yeah i like dogs” even though really he likes soft squishy warm cats

but then he meets Jack and Anti and OHHH MY GOSH HE LOVES CATS SO MUCH??? he ends up staying with the two of them for a while after the divorce and he’s all sad and crying a lot and he won’t always let Jack comfort him so Jack like scoops up Anti and he’s like “buddy I got a special mission for you” and slips Anti into Chase’s room and like… Anti is not a comforting cat lmao but just having him there running around is stimulating for Chase… and then sometimes Anti gives up the ghost and comes and sits purring on Chase’s chest while he cries and Chase rubs his warm soft ears and loves him so much and Anti’s like “okay this guy’s okay, whatever” and lets him

after that Chase NEEDS his kitty fix so he starts volunteering at an animal shelter and just PETTING CATS FOR HOURS YEHHHHH but then holy cow. holy cow. holy cow Jackie

he is the most perfect beautiful cat Chase has ever seen and yes Jackie has some neurological problems and tends to run into walls and get over-excited and stuff and nobody really wants him but Chase - oh, Chase sees him all sad and lonely in his cage and as soon as he opens it up Jackie is the friendliest cat ever to live, charging at Chase and shoving himself into his chest, begging to be petted, cause no matter how many times humans screw him over, Jackie doesn’t care, he’s such a loving cat and Chase doesn’t know why he’s crying but he loves Jackie, he loves him, he can’t leave him here, this is HIS cat and he scoops him up and kisses him and brings him home

Jackie is SOOO HAPPY YESSSS HUMAN ADOPTED HIMMMMMM THIS IS THE DREAMMM

He wakes Chase up with kisses every morning and Chase gives him a big hug and Jackie purrs and purrs. He grows out of awkward little teen cat into BIG BIG BIG RED BOY WITH FUR EVERYWHEREEE just unbelievable fuzz

and yes, yes, yes, he knows Chase loves him, never doubts it for a second, cause Jackie is the warmest cat in the world and Chase is the one who refills his bowl and lets him have bits of his dinner and holds him in his lap and pets him and loves him all the time and Jackie knows, Jackie knows. so he is always trying to love on Chase right back, kissing and arching his spine up beneath his hands and sitting with him when he’s sick or sad, putting his lil paw on Chase’s face and looking him dead in the eye, like sometimes he’s just trying to say it out loud, “I love you dude!!!!!” and Chase just squishes him to his belly and tells him he loves him too against his fur

Jackie is BIG PROTECTIVE of Chase and he WILL fight dogs to keep him safe (but Chase never gives him the chance lol)

Marvin is a surprise kitty cause one of Chase’s aunts leaves him to Chase in her will and Chase is like “you can LEAVE cats to people?” and the answer is yes if that cat is a snow-white show cat worth like three thousand dollars

Chase can’t sell him though because Marvin is the proudest, sassiest, most lovely little cat and Chase adores him from the second he gets his hands on him. Marvin loves walking all over Chase’s chest and pretending he’s not looking at him and ignoring Jackie’s antics because he is too dignified for that - okay maybe he will chase the laser pointer for just one second -

when Marvin gives Chase affection, it’s like being blessed by a picky god, and Chase just closes his eyes and lies back while Marvin steps over all prissy and perfect and bestows gentle headbumps and kneads his claws into his chest

Chase: THE PAIN IS WORTH ITTTTT ily Marvvvv

and Marvin is stepping around all proud like “duh of course you do I’m perfect” (but really he is very nice kitty and very polite and folds his paws and does not beg and always brings Chase dead leaves as presents because he is such a gentleman and so clever, as Chase tells him endlessly

Jackie and Marv always sleep halfway on top of each other and fully on top of Chase. Jackie snores. Chase is so exasperated and he whispers “dumb-ass” and strokes his head and when he wakes up every morning he gets either paws in his face or two happy kitties mirroring each other on his chest, purring with their eyes closed, and he is Happy

Chase, hugging his kitties: thank you for the dopamine tiny babies

After Chase adopts Henrik he does in fact start to get teased a little by his friends but then he’s like wait a second…. i don’t need less cats… i need BETTER FRIENDS SCREW U ZACH DR. HENRIK VON SCHNEEPLESTEIN HAS DONE MORE FOR MY MENTAL HEALTH THAN YOU EVER HAVE AND YES THAT IS HIS LEGAL NAME HE HAS THREE PHDS

Schneep is. VERY MEAN at first actually. When he came into the shelter all torn up (they think a dog got him) he was so gross and sick and flea-covered that no one else really gave him much attention, and he would just lie at the back of his cage wheezing and trying to growl. Chase would pet him, though, and Henrik would just melt and slump down in his arms, too tired to purr, just staring up at Chase like he was begging for help. Everybody told Chase Henrik would die, but he didn’t. Chase had to bring him home

Henrik was very untrusting and angry and hurting and getting in fights with Jackie and Marvin for a few weeks, but Chase just tried to give him space and love and reward him for even the smallest attempts at being sociable, and finally there was this day where Henrik just… broke for Chase. came to him crying and trying to purr and begging for attention and Chase just started crying too and picked him up and loved on him for hours.

now Henrik is a HEALTHY HAPPY SNARKY KITTY always going >:3 and Chase is just his favorite person ever and he hates just about everybody but Chase. he is Chase’s loyal little boy and whenever Chase is feeling bad Henrik seems to be able to tell, cause he’ll follow Chase around like meowing at him, and Chase like gives him a voice and pretends his little doctor is reminding him to take his medicine and everything

also no offense to Jackie and Marv but. Henrik is like. way smarter than them adkfnkdgd he won’t do tricks but he has learned things like he’s not allowed to sit in Chase’s lap when the red light is on the camera, but he can when it isn’t, which Chase just thinks is?? ridiculously smart for a cat?? he’s not sure though

when Jack goes into his coma, it’s one of the hardest times in Chase’s life, and he’s such a mess and can’t focus on anything. but Anti needs him, and so do the other cats. even on his worst days, he finds himself dragging himself out of bed to refill everybody’s food and scoop Anti up before he can start yowling for Jack and crying again. sometimes he can even get up the strength to play with him for a little while, trying to take his mind off his missing owner.

he probably wouldn’t have survived it without his cats, in retrospect. Jackie keeps batting things in front of his face and going :DDD trying to cheer him up, and Marvin’s flaunting his big bushy tail all around the house, brushing on Chase’s legs and face and meowing politely, thanking Chase every time he feeds him. Henrik keeps leading Chase into the kitchen and Chase is too tired to argue with him so he’s like “you want a snack, sweetie? You can have anything you want” and gets the fridge open, but Henrik is just staring pointedly at the leftovers on the top shelf and Chase is like… “i think this cat wants me to eat” so for Henrik’s sake he tries

Anti misses Jack…. but Chase is the one who looks after him now. so he’s gone from his owner, and he’ll always miss him, but… he’s okay, you know? he’s not hurt or hungry or lonely. he’s okay, just like Jack would want him to be. he knows Chase loves him because even when he is a huge troublemaker and throwing a tantrum and trying to be a bastard just because he’s sad and angry, Chase is still gentle with him, Chase forgives him and lets him pretend to hate him only to slink onto the end of his bed late at night….. yeah, Chase loves Anti and Anti knows it. Anti loves him too, though that’s hard to see for just about anybody but Chase himself

and things are okay, they’re holding on, they’re surviving. Chase is trying to keep his head up, but there’s a long time where it feels like Jack and the cats are all he can think about, and even they kind of make him sad, because they remind him of Jack and make him think he’s been a horrible owner, never able to spend enough time on them when he’s on his down days. he needs something to pour his energy and love into, something to distract him from everything, something new

and there he is - the perfect baby boy

Jamie is a tiny, tiny, tiny kitty who’s been living on the streets for all of his short life and Chase falls in love with him. he finds him in the gutter a couple blocks down the street - no one else has noticed because Jamie can barely meow, this tiny little whisper-cry - but Chase sees him. he spends three hours trying to get Jamie out of there. afterwards he has this filthy, mostly-blind, malnourished, stinking baby cat who needs him desperately, and there’s no going back after that. there’s no giving Jamie away.

and Jamie love him very much. he seems to know that Chase saved him. he is very tired and weak his first few months and he never gets to be very big - in fact, he will always be a tiny little cat - but Chase thinks he’s the most perfect, beautiful little thing he’s ever seen, and he spends hours nursing him and flattering him and telling him he loves him. Jamie gives him his tiny half-mew and chews on his fingers. he can’t much purr, but Chase recognizes the little coughs and chest-sighs he gives off as his best attempts at it

the other cats are like “BABY????”

Jackie tries to teach him cat kung-fu, jumping around the walls at three am in the morning. Marvin tries to teach him MANNERS in the midst of all these hooligans (Jamie is very polite too in the end but also just as chaotic as his biggest brother). Henrik is!!! very!! hecking!!! concerned for this sick little infant!!! he is licking Jamie all matter-of-factly and rumbling at him like he’s telling him to get better (once Chase catches Henrik carrying Jameson by his baby scruff to sit on HIS bed instead of the couch, but that is a secret because HENRIK VON SCHNEEPLESTEIN DOES NOT SHOW ZE OTHER KITTIES AFFECTION)

Jameson imprints on Chase and follows him around the house like a duckling on tiny kitten paws. it is hard for him because he can’t see well, so Chase starts singing around the house a lot. eventually the cats all learn that this means he is probably not busy and might give them some pets or snacks if they come, so he starts humming and cats converge on him like he’s catnip, with tiny Jamie tottering along behind them or hanging out of Jackie’s mouth like he’s bringing Chase a present

Chase narrates Henrik as German, Jamie as British, Marvin and Jackie as Irish twins, and Anti as SCREECH

he just. he just loves them so much. he knows it’s maybe a little silly to have five cats but he just… loves them. they’re so important. they’re so real to him. they’re not just pets, these are his little buds. he takes care of them and they take care of him.

he comforts them at the vet. they steal his whiskey when he’s not looking. he puts a little bow around Marvin’s neck. Marvin spends two hours purring on his chest when he’s crying the next day. he plays games with them. they hide his socks and make him look for them. and damn, he’s got so many good memories with these little dorks…. Jackie getting stuck in the kitchen drawer, Marvin getting scared by the thunderstorm and needing a hug, splashing Henrik in the face when he got all curious about the kitchen sink, the first time Anti snuggled up with him, Jamie licking gently at his hands while he sat up all night with him just to keep him alive….

They’re his buddies. He loves them. They know. They knew all along. Cats are clever. They know. They won’t forget. They love him too

[skeletaldarling]

Chase The Fire Away Chapter 4

Do You Believe?

AO3

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4 

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Summary: Remus and Patton walk home from school. Emile and Logan finally confess something to Patton. 

Ship: Lomile 

Word Count: 1779

Warnings: Blood mention, vampires, witches, Remus Sanders, swearing

"Witches are just so much cooler than humans." Remus said, skipping ahead to do a cartwheel before bouncing on the balls of his feet as Patton caught up to him. 

They were walking home after school, and of course, the subject of supernatural beings had come up again. 

Patton hummed in agreement. "They are." 

"And they have cool hats! And cats!" Remus grinned. "And cauldrons, wands, and cool huge leather books full of sick drawings! There’s heaps of stuff like that at the bookshop I work at." 

Patton adjusted his bag straps. "What's the shop called?" 

"The Witch's Corner." Remus hopped onto a small stone wall and kicked himself into a handstand before walking on his hands for a few feet. 

Patton beamed and laughed at his best friend. His eyes sparkled and his stomach was aching from all the laughing but Remus, unphased, continued to babble on about cool witch stuff. 

Remus bounced back to his feet and walked a couple steps ahead. 

Patton sighed happily as he watched Remus talk before he saw a flash of blue and a tickle on his nose. 

Remus glanced around and absolutely lit up. "Oh my god!" He grinned. 

Patton blinked owlishly at the butterfly on his nose and blushed at the sight of Remus's bright smiling face. 

Remus was positively vibrating with excitement. He swallowed a scream and stepped closer to Patton. "This is so cool! Patton there's a fucking butterfly on your fucking nose!" 

Patton giggled and the butterfly took off again. Remus squealed. "Are you a witch!?" 

Patton giggled and shrugged. "I might be," he winked. But it was an awkward wink with the eye that couldn't actually wink very well so it didn't really land as a wink so much as a pointed blink. 

But Remus didn't care, he blinked pointedly in return. "You're so freaking awesome, Pat." 

Patton's chest swelled with love and a bush next to them rustled as suddenly several flowers sprung out from the hidden buds. 

They stared. 

"What the fuck." Remus whispered. "Did you do that?" 

"That's… that's not possible." Patton shook his head hurriedly and swallowed. "I, I can't just make stuff happen…" God. Who was he trying to convince? 

Remus wiggled happily and danced about a circle. "My best friend's a witch! Everyone else can suck it! I got the coolest friend and they can't have him!" 

Patton laughed. "I'm not…"  

"You are!" insisted Remus. 

Patton was quiet for a moment before he spoke, his voice soft and almost scared sounding. "Do you really believe in magic?"

Remus turned to look at him. He blinked. "I do. My boss jokes about being a witch sometimes but I know it's true. I saw him reorganize a whole shelf with his mind once. He didn't know I was watching." 

Patton chewed on his lip. "But… I can't really be a… a witch?" 

"Well I disagree!" chirped Remus. "I think you are and I promise, one day very very soon. We will test your powers." 

"I don't have powers." 

"Well I would prove it to you but I have a drum lesson this afternoon. But I'll do it tomorrow!" 

Patton laughed. "Yeah okay. We'll see." 

"Vampires are also real," Remus added. 

Patton sighed. "Remus." 

"They are!" 

"I'll see you tomorrow." Patton said, opening his gate. "Bye, Remus." 

"See ya tomorrow, Pat!" 

Patton shook his head and went inside. He wasn’t a witch. He dropped his bag by the door and saw Logan and Emile already in the living room. They were both sitting on the couch, facing him as if they’d known the second he opened the gate. They looked… serious. The teenager nervously set foot inside the living room and swallowed. “Hi?”

Emile smiled tightly. “Hey, pumpkin.”

Patton bit his lip and looked down at his feet. He didn’t know what this was about but oh god he wished he could still live with them. Please don’t send me away. 

“Honey, can we talk for a moment?”

Patton nodded faintly but he could barely force himself to step forward. Emile’s shoulders fell slightly as he realized how nerve-wracking this must be for the boy kid. He scooted over and patted the spot on the couch in between him and Logan. 

“It’s okay, Pat. We’re not mad at you or anything,” Emile assured him. 

Patton found it slightly easier to breathe as he moved to sit down with them. Emile wrapped his arm around his shoulders and waited for Patton to lean further into the embrace before kissing his hair. “Your papa and I need to tell you something…” 

Logan hadn’t moved the entire time. He stayed frozen, his eyes on the carpet, his lips pulled into a frown. 

Patton swallowed and waited nervously. 

It broke Emile’s heart to see his boys so anxious and he wished he could pull them both onto his lap and hug them and make everything okay. But he couldn’t do that just yet. He took in a deep breath. “Lo, baby, you want to say it?”

Logan sighed and pulled his legs up onto the couch to cross them and face his husband and son. “Patton…” he winced. “We wanted to tell you sooner.”

Patton paled. “Tell me what?” he whispered. 

“Sweetheart do you believe in magic?” asked Emile. 

Patton started speaking but faltered. Remus did. But did Patton believe him? He trusted Remus, of course he did, but how could magic be real? How could witches be real? Vampires are also real, Remus had said. 

Patton froze. Vampires? The other day in the kitchen, there was blood in the sink because Logan had been… feeding? Feeding on Emile? No, no there was no way, and that was hardly enough to prove anything. 

“Pat?” Emile asked again. 

“I… I don’t know.” Patton breathed. 

Emile squeezed Patton's arm comfortingly. “That’s okay, hun.” He looked to Logan. 

“Well… it’s real.” Logan began awkwardly.  “And I’m… I’m a vampire.” 

Patton stiffened and didn’t miss the way Logan curled away from him, looking at his feet, ashamed. 

Emile rubbed Patton’s back but waited a few seconds before speaking. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t… I don’t?” Patton shook his head desperately. “No I would have known. I should’ve, I should’ve realized. Papa, you- I didn’t know. God, I’m so stupid, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I should’ve-”

“Hey hey hey,” Emile took Patton’s wrists and pulled him into a better cuddling position. “Don’t be ridiculous, pumpkin. We kept it from you for a reason. You’re not stupid, you didn’t know.” 

Tears dribbled down Patton’s face and he sniffled. “I… I’m sorry I didn’t realize.” 

Logan frowned and shuffled closer. “Patton? We don’t want you to feel guilty, we didn’t want you to know until now.”

Patton’s bottom lip quivered as Logan pressed a delicate kiss to his forehead. “Please don’t feel bad about this. We should’ve told you sooner. I’m sorry we didn’t.”

“You’re so strong, baby.” Emile murmured. He rubbed Patton’s back again. “Do you have any questions?”

Patton scrubbed at his eyes. “You drink blood?” he squeaked. 

Logan nodded. “I drink Dad’s blood when I need it. And there’s an emergency supply in the garden shed. I can eat human food if I want to but it doesn’t have an effect on me. It still tastes good though.” 

“I’ve seen you out in the sunlight.” Patton muttered, half to himself. He sniffed away the last of his tears and managed to compose himself a bit more. 

“A witch charmed my wedding ring to protect me.” Logan held his hand up and showed Patton the golden band. 

“You know a witch?”

“Remy. And his dad, Roman, technically. But Remy cast the spell.” 

“Isn’t Roman your boss?” Patton thought back to Remus talking about the bookshop he worked at. “What’s the name of the shop?”

“The Witch’s Corner,” replied Logan. “Roman owns it.” 

Patton managed a smile. “I think Remus works there.”

Logan nodded. 

“Can you turn into a bat?”

Logan scowled. “No. I cannot.” 

Emile giggled. “I asked him the same thing when I found out.” he whispered. 

“How old are you?” 

“208 years old,” said Logan. “But I was turned at 27.”

Patton laughed slightly. “You’re really old.” 

Logan chuckled. “Yes, I am.” He glanced down and cleared his throat. “Are you scared of me?” he asked softly. 

Patton pulled away from Emile’s hug to wrap his arms around his papa’s neck and give him the tightest hug he could muster. “Never.” 

Logan blinked rapidly and squeezed his son tighter. “I love you, Patton.” 

“I love you too, Papa.” 

Emile smiled at them and wiped his own eyes. He gave them a moment of quiet before he noticed the time. “Alright. I think it’s time we think about dinner. How does pizza sound?” 

Logan nodded. “Good.” He pulled away from his son and wiped furiously at his teary eyes. 

Emile picked up his phone and started ordering the pizza as the three of them adjusted themselves on the couch, each dad wrapping an arm around their son. 

“Do you know any other vampires?”

“Virgil.” 

Patton furrowed his brows. “Virgil’s a vampire and Remy’s a witch?”

“Mhmm,” Emile confirmed. “I was the only human in the group.” He chuckled. “But now I have you!” He kissed Patton’s cheek. “What kind of pizza do you want?”

Patton smiled and rested his cheek on Emile’s shoulder, looking at his phone. “The veggie one from last time.”

“Good choice.”

Logan snorted. “No it’s not.”

Emile rolled his eyes. “We get it. I assume you want meatlovers?”

“Yes please.” Logan stood up and kissed Emile’s forehead on his way to get the blanket from the chair. He tossed it to the others. “Patton, hun, do you want to help me build a fort?”

Patton squeaked. “YES!” 

Emile chuckled. “Carrying on the tradition, are we?”

Logan scoffed. “Obviously.” He bounded up the stairs to get more blankets. 

Patton looked to Emile. “Tradition?”

Emile smiled as he thought back. “The night your papa told me he was a vampire we made a blanket fort afterwards. It was the first night he told me he loved me.” Emile sighed happily and turned back to Patton. He brushed some hair away from his eyes. “Go help Papa while I finish the order, okay?”

Patton nodded and scampered off to find Logan. 

Emile sank into the couch with a fond smile. He loved his boys so much it almost hurt. Patton had been so good tonight. He definitely deserves more brownie, Emile reasoned as he added extra dessert to his cart. He set his phone down and got to his feet before he jogged up the stairs. “Let’s make this fort!”

Taglist:

@sander-sideblog 

[prairiesongserial]

epilogue 11

Ezra stayed on the steps of the caravan long after John had left, not bothering to stoke the small fire and instead watching it burn itself down to a pile of ashes. As silly as it was, he was preoccupied with the idea that John didn’t like him. Of course John didn’t like him. Ezra wouldn’t have been surprised if Cody, Val, and Friday didn’t, either - the circus had kidnapped them, for God’s sake, to drag them from town to town along the entire East Coast. It was a miracle none of them had tried to escape yet. Though maybe they would, now that the false indenture papers were burned.

The last remnants of the logs in the small fire pit had turned black, the embers inside of them glowing where the wood had cracked or crumbled away. Ezra watched them deteriorate without any real interest. He tried to put aside the instinct to be liked, and focus instead on the money the circus would get from Hemisphere when they delivered on the deal he and Johannes had made with Lady. Four strangers for enough silver to put the circus in the black, maybe permanently. No more stealing. No more broken instruments they couldn’t afford to replace. The idea was comforting, but there was still a pit in his stomach, the kind that tended to portend disaster.

“I left it unlocked, you know,” Johannes said from nearby.

Ezra startled badly, his heart leaping up into his throat as he rose to his feet. He’d been too lost in thought to even hear Johannes’s footsteps approaching, and there was no way to play it off now. He thought he could hear Johannes having a laugh at his expense, somewhere under the sound of his own pulze hammering in his ears.

“Sorry,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t fidget with them. “I was going to come in. I got distracted.”

“Staring into space?” Johannes asked, grinning toothily in the way that he did when he was teasing - or being mean, and calling it teasing. He had already stripped out of his costume from the show, and wore an undershirt and slacks that Ezra supposed he intended to sleep in.

“Talking to John, actually. He left a little while ago,” Ezra said, declining to comment on how long he had stayed out here after John had gone. “I gave him the indenture papers.”

“And?”

“He burned them.” Ezra looked pointedly towards the remains of the fire.

Johannes whistled, following his line of sight. “And you let him do it?”

Ezra looked around, belatedly, to make sure that neither John nor Cody were still in earshot, and found that he and Johannes were alone in the little pocket of space around Johannes’s trailer. Several members of the circus were still awake, either eating late dinners or bustling around here and there to get the trucks packed so there would be less to do in the morning, calling across the camp to each other, laughing and joking. No one was paying attention to this conversation. If they had noticed it, they probably figured it was just business.

“I told him the papers were fake,” Ezra said finally, because he wasn’t about to lie to Johannes’s face. Johannes was much better at lying than he was, and Ezra knew he couldn’t get away with it.

“Did you,” Johannes said. There was strain in his voice that hadn’t been there before. “Because I could swear that we decided we wouldn’t - ”

“He used to be an indenture,” Ezra cut him off, careful to keep his voice low so Johannes wouldn’t try to match his volume and inevitably start talking so loud the whole camp could hear him. “John did, I mean. I could tell it was...important to him, to not be one again. I thought maybe it would make him feel better. To know it wasn’t real. And...I don’t know, maybe it would keep him from running away.”

“Do you care if they run away?” Johannes said, meeting his eyes.

Ezra felt a sudden, strange tension in the air, like the tangible crackle of electricity that heralded a lightning strike. It was like they were each daring the other to back away from the deal with Lady, or to double down. They had never worked with Hemisphere before, never taken prisoners for a bounty before, and Ezra couldn’t help but think that every one of those steps was taking them closer to a precipice they couldn’t return from. He wondered if Johannes felt the same way. Judging from the look in Johannes’s eyes right now, he probably did.

“Of course I do,” he made himself say, though the anxious pit in his stomach was still there. “We don’t get the money for the circus if they run away, right?”

Johannes grinned, and reached out to clap him on the shoulder. “That’s what I like to hear. Walk with me, will you? I’ve got to get the report from Enis on everything that needs fixed before the next show, and I’d rather hear it now than hear it on the road tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Ezra agreed, descending the steps so that Johannes could lead the way. He started off with purpose towards the other side of the camp, and Ezra followed, half a step behind.

“You know, it really was a close call with John,” Johannes said over his shoulder. He had slipped fluidly into Yiddish now that they were walk-and-talking. Ezra was sometimes jealous of how easy it was for him to move between languages like that, as though he could simply flip a switch in his mind. “I know you weren’t there, but he had it in his hands. The contract Lady sent us. It’s a good thing he can’t read, or I’d have had to let Rhea set him up for an unfortunate boating accident.”

He laughed. Ezra made a face.

“I don’t see how you can say that about the Bellamys,” Ezra said, choosing his words carefully. Yiddish was by no means his first language, not like it had been for Johannes, and he liked to make sure he was understood without having to repeat himself. He kept up the walking pace, but stayed just a half-step behind, allowing Johannes to take the lead.

“I was kidding,” Johannes said. His tone very clearly conveyed the fact that he was rolling his eyes, even if Ezra couldn’t see it in the dark. “You know, I’m not exactly a good person, but I like to think I haven’t quite stooped down to the level of feeding my inconveniences to alligators.”

“So why joke about it?”

“Nu?” Johannes asked, looking to Ezra, eyebrows arched in mock-surprise. “You want I should march back onto that steamboat and tell them to stop dropping people in the swamp?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Ezra protested - but it was too late, and Johannes was already on a roll.

“I should head to the mansion and tell Rhea Bellamy how to deal with criminals, that’s what you want?” he asked, holding out his arms in a broad gesture that Ezra thought might have signified some kind of martyrdom. “I’m sure that’d go over well, probably get Mame a whole stack of new letters -”

“Jo,” Ezra said softly. “I get it.”

Johannes blinked at him for a moment as though briefly recalibrating, or perhaps realizing that he’d been on the verge of letting the rest of the circus overhear Bellamy secrets they shouldn’t have been privy to. The two of them weren’t the only ones who spoke Yiddish. Then, Johannes grinned, and slung an arm around Ezra’s shoulders, pulling him into a lockstep rather than allowing him to remain a half-step behind.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” he said, in the tone of voice that meant he really had been thinking, and that most of those thoughts had gone towards how to pitch a very bad idea to Ezra.

Ezra frowned. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

“We made good time to Everglades City,” Johannes continued, regardless of Ezra’s feelings on the matter. “If we leave first thing tomorrow, we might even be ahead of schedule. And we’re not supposed to do another show until we get to Virginia.”

“I know,” Ezra said, wondering where Johannes was going with this, exactly. Everglades City was a fairly large detour from the rest of their route, but the circus sometimes took it as a favor to Rhea, even though they didn’t make much money on it. There was at least a solid day of driving between them and the next show - two days, if they split it up the way Johannes preferred to.

“And I was thinking,” Johannes went on, “that if we’re ahead of schedule, we might as well stop and put on an extra show, don’t you think?”

“Are you out of your mind?” The question slipped out in English instead of Yiddish before Ezra could help himself. They were caravaning up to Maine, on a strict deadline, with hostages, and Johannes wanted to play an extra show?

“I think it could be good for us,” Johannes said, still in Yiddish, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. “We’d make some extra money for gas, repairs, that kind of thing.”

“Where would we even play?” Ezra asked, making a conscious effort to return to Yiddish. No doubt this was still not the sort of conversation Johannes wanted anyone else overhearing. “Don’t tell me you’re planning on dropping in on every town we pass and seeing if anyone wants to go to the circus.”

Johannes grinned, flashing teeth in a way that made Ezra feel as though he’d walked straight into a trap that had been laid for him.

“I was thinking...Kill Devil Hills,” he said.

“Oh, no,” Ezra said, already shaking his head. The circus hadn’t visited Kill Devil Hills in years, but he certainly remembered it, and not favorably. “No, you - you know how they are -”

“Ah, but we’ve got a priest with us again, for the first time since Mame retired,” Johannes said, still with that same smile. “A goy priest. We could set up a revival tent, have him wear the old preacher getup - they’d go nuts for it, you know they would. And while the preacher is preaching…”

“We pick their pockets.” Ezra sighed, all too familiar with this part of the pitch. Doing an extra show felt risky, especially with so many new variables. They had to be in Maine when they’d told Lady they would be at the end of the summer, for the hostage hand-off, and there was no telling how long this detour would set them back. Plus, they had no way of knowing if their new priest would even cooperate or not. He seemed moody.

But Johannes, apparently, had already made up his mind. And there was very little one could do to persuade him otherwise, once he’d thought up what he assumed was a terrific scheme.

“Exactly,” he said, clapping Ezra’s shoulder. “Look, it’ll be one show, barely anything set up except the preacher’s tent, and then we’re out of there in the morning. How hard can it be?”

Ezra winced. He wished that Johannes would stop throwing around that question. Past a certain point, it stopped feeling inspiring, and started feeling like he was daring God to make something happen.

11.18 || 12.1

[floatingpetals]

Don’t You Dare

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: just pure sweet fluff

Word Count:1600+

Request:  “congrats on your blog birthday!! Could I request a fluffy Cap where he discovers that the reader's ticklish by accident during training? Thank you!!” - @wildefire  

A/N: Like I said in the ask, this request has been sitting in my inbox FOREVER. I feel so bad how long it’s taken me to get to it. I just couldn’t do it justice then. I hope you enjoy @wildefire and I’m so sorry~! Let me know what ya’ll think! Enjoy!

Gifs not mine, credit to the creator!

“Okay, so what are we doing?” Y/N scratched her head, shifting her weight to one hip. Steve grinned at her from across the mat, motioning her to step towards the middle.

“We’re gonna do some hand to hand training.” He said matter of fact. The look he gave her was a mix of smirk and ‘have you really not put the two and two together yet?’ eyebrow raise.

Y/N made a face, confused. She wasn’t exactly a field agent, so why would she need hand to hand training?

“But, I’m only a stealth teleporter?” She asked a bit bewildered. She’s never gone out on the field with the need to fight, she was only used when they’d need someone to sneak in and steal intel. That’s what she did. Get in and get out before anyone knew she was there.

“Well, yes. But be that as it may, you still need to know how to defend yourself.” He shrugged. Y/N groaned, sensing from his tone that he wasn’t going to let this drop until she gave in.

“Fine.” She whined. “You’re the captain.”

Steve shot her a smirk, his blue eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. Normally, he’d pass off training to either Natasha or Bucky, but he wanted to be the one to train Y/N.

Ever since she joined the team almost four months ago, she managed to worm her way into his heart and latch on tight. Y/N wasn’t like some of the other recruits he’d meet. She didn’t care that he was The Captain America and could more or less snap her in half with his pinky finger. She saw past his tough façade and saw the Steve inside of him, a breath of fresh air in the crazy world he called his life.

Everyone joked he followed her around like a lost puppy, gazing at her with practical heart eyes anytime she was in the room. Bucky was the worst of everyone. He knew his friend like the back of his hand and saw the feeling Steve was pointedly ignored. Of course, Steve didn’t think of it that way. Y/N was his friend and that was that. He didn’t let himself think about how his heart melted every time she smiled, or how his throat dried each time he heard her laugh. He didn’t let himself think any more of her than just a friend. He couldn’t think anymore. Although, damn if she didn’t make it hard sometimes.

Right now, he had to force himself to stay professional. Now wasn’t the time to focus on his crush. Not crush, he corrected himself with a head shake, just slight personal interest. Dragging his thoughts away he motioned for Y/N to step closer once more, raising his fists at the ready.

Y/N huffed, not incredibly thrilled to be put in this situation. There was a part of her that was torn. She didn’t enjoy physical attractivity, loathed them really. However, when Steve Rogers asked you to train with him, you knew you’d have to comply. Grumbling, she gave up the internal struggle, going to the middle of the mat where Steve stood patiently waiting with a smirk.

“Fine. But you owe me dinner later.” She grumbled and moved into a similar stance. Steve snorted and agreed, his smirk growing.

He went easy on her, Y/N could tell. She wasn’t annoyed, she really didn’t want her ass handed to her today. He gave her enough time to dodge when he jabbed, corrected her when her steps were wrong and helped show her the right moves to block and attack. She’d admit it. She learned a lot and was gifted the mouthwatering sight of an up-close Steve in a skin tight t-shirt. Why hadn’t she done this sooner?

“Okay,” He spoke, pulling her out of her thoughts. He had noticed the decline in her attention, along with her increasing struggle to keep up, and decided to cut her some slack. “I think we’ll do one more move, and then we can call it quits for today.”

Y/N’s chest heaved, she had no doubt she looked like a fish out of water, gulping for air. Maybe she really did need to work out more if she was this winded after half an hour of light workout. No doubt, she looked incredibly attractive right now. So sexy, she thought with a groan.

“Fine, but you owe me a pint of ice cream after this.” She puffed, whipping the sweat off her face. Steve giggled, actually giggled, his cheeks turning pink.

“How about after this I take you out and get some ice cream, along with dinner I owe you?” He asked hesitantly. Y/N was a little surprised, butterflies exploding in her stomach. A slow grin spread on her face, and she giggled in return.

“So, you’re offering to take me out, and pay to feed in my unhealthy eating habits? I think that’s a date, Steven.”

Happiness washed over Steve, a grin spreading on his face. There was a little bounce in his step, ready to wrap things up and get to the date. Alright, he might have a slight crush if he was this excited to take her out for dinner and dessert.

“Alright, I want you to come at me, and try to sweep me off my feet.”

“What?” Y/N blinked. The smile on his face morphed into a smirk.

“Come on, you can do it. I’ll even go easy on you.” He taunted. Y/N’s eyes narrowed. Oh, he was asking for it now. She knew she probably wouldn’t even cause him to flinch, let alone sweep him off his feet, but she’d sure as hell try.  

An idea popped into her head and a wicked grin spread on her lips. Stepping into her fighting stance, she winked. Steve blinked, bewildered by her sudden change. Before he could even process what might happen, there was a pop and suddenly Y/N was gone. A pop behind caused him to spin around, fist raised. Y/N took the temporary guard slip to rush at him, kicking his legs out from under him.

Steve yelped, surprised at the force behind her kick and instinctually grabbed the closest thing to break his fall. The only close reachable object was nonother than Y/N’s and her waist. She screamed, flailed her arms but crashed on top of Steve’s chest. He grunted and groaned, the added force of Y/N’s weight and his back slamming against the mat knocked the wind out of his lungs. His grip tightened on her waist, fingers digging into her side.

Y/N didn’t mean for it to slip out, but when his fingers instinctively curled into her side once again a stifled giggle ignored her will and slipped out. Instantly she tensed, her eyes going wide in horror. Steve was just as surprised, tipping his head down to stare at her with wide eyes. He blinked. Then deliberately smirked. Y/N squeaked and began to frantically squirm out of his iron grip.  

“Where ya goin’?” He taunted, the smirk wicked and the glint in his eyes dangerous.

“Nowhere. Steve, no. Don’t you dare-.” Y/N started. The feel of his fingers tightening caused her to freeze, her voice caught in her throat. He didn’t give her any chance to catch her wits. With careful precision and quick as a whip, he dug his fingers into her side, dragging them up and down her ticklish sides.

Peals of laughter erupted from Y/N’s, her head thrown back ringing her cries of mercy through the room. Steve never let up, twisting with her to keep her in his grip as she wiggled to get out of his hold. The smile that broke across his lips stretch from ear to ear, his cheeks turning pink as he kept up his attack on her sides. He laughed along with, unable to hold back his enjoyment from the whole situation. Now on her back, Y/N gasped for air through her laughter, clutching fruitlessly to stop his fingers.

“S-St-eeve!” She howled, tears running down her cheek. “S-stop! Un-cle!”

Choosing to be a merciful god, Steve stopped his ruthless assault and hovered over her with a wide grin. Gasping to fill her lungs, Y/N’s cheeks and sides hurt. Occasionally a giggle would slip through, her body twitching as it calmed down. It only served to send Steve’s heart reeling. Slowly, her breathing returned to normal and her eyes fluttered open. Her breath caught at the adoration and affection in Steve’s stare. Her heart skipped a beat, and she grinned bashfully up at him.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away, the way she glowed underneath him with a tiny smile on her lips captivating. He hadn’t even realized he had leaned down, his gaze locked on her lips, until he felt a hand cup the back of his neck. She drew him the rest of the way, her lips soft and supple against his. His sighed, his eyelashes fluttering shut at how complete he felt. The kiss was amazing but short. It was, however, more than enough for Steve to want more the second he pulled away. Why he fought back against his feelings for so long, he couldn’t tell you.

Steve rested his forehead against hers, humming softly in content. Y/N giggled, her breath fanning against his skin. She tugged at his neck to pull him back, eager to kiss him once more. However, Steve let out his own chuckle and shook his head. Of course, he couldn’t resist a quick peck before he pushed off the ground to stand. He helped her stand, ignored her pout and nudged her to the locker room with his trademark lopsided grin.

“We can do more of that later.” He spoke confidently. “I believe I owe you dinner and ice cream.”

Y/N didn’t need any other kind of persuasion. She didn’t even care if she seemed over eager. Why should she? She had a date with Steve freaking Rogers.

Perma Tag: (CLOSED)

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(Let me know if I missed you, the strike means I can’t tag you for some reason.)

Steve Tag: (Open)

@biologik / @screamimalive / @ahsokastarwars / @bucky-smiles / @robfangirl/

(Let me know if I missed you, the strike means I can’t tag you for some reason.)

[canaryatlaw]

okay, let’s get writing. I’m typing this out on the chromebook because after I finished writing my post last night and plugged my charger in, it inexplicably decided it was just going to die, and thus my macbook is now dead. UGH. I was up until like 3:45 trying to deal with all this nonsense and figure out what the hell is going on. of course, there are bite marks on the wires, which I thought were probably it, but when I replaced the cord portion (because I have several now) it still wouldn’t work so it’s either the square thing or something wrong with my actual laptop, which is definitely worst case scenario right now. I could’ve hightailed it to bestbuy this morning after Zoom court on my phone and grab a new one, but no fucking joke they had it listed for $68 when it was fucking $23 on amazon. like are you fucking kidding me??? So I decided spending 1 1/2 days on the chromebook waiting for it to come from amazon was better than paying more than double for no reason. I’m very much hoping this solves the problem and I don’t have to haul my computer into the apple store when their booked for appointments for the next like, two weeks, and just showing up there is probably going to take a few hours, mostly of you waiting for no actual reason, so I’d like to avoid that if possible. anyway though. woke up at 8:45 same as always, got the chromebook up and running but it was not cooperating with Zoom, so I did it all from my phone, which was fine. the court case was fine, it’s probably going to get moved to another court so it won’t be one I have to deal with much longer. I find myself sometimes getting impatient with clients who seem to think every little thing is going to turn against them and sound paranoid, but I have to remind myself what these people have gone through and just about why they do feel that way, and that quickly resolves any lingering thoughts of impatience, because I love this job was too damn much to do something like that. for the rest of the day it was kinda up and down, I was supposed to be running the hotline but we didn’t get much in, so it was mostly just emailing around for the volunteers, then I covered a hearing around 4 which was.....interesting to say the least. even though we’ve been doing this set up for literal months now, for some reason the judge thought the fact that I was there meant I was representing the client, which we’re not doing at this point and have not been doing it,so I had to kind of interrupt him and say that and he looked kinda pissed afterwards but just kept going forward with the hearing, so oh well, it happens. Without any details, he basically talked through one incident and as soon as he established this one fact, he immediately just granted the order, and continued to make several comments as to how dangerous and reprehensible this situation was, and the client was tearing up near the end, it was a long relationship with quite a few kids, so there’s gotta be a lot of emotions wrapped up there. before we finished though, the judge had to make one last comment about the “long forms” we’ve been using since January now- basically everyone was supposed to switch over to the new forms at the start of 2020 but the clerks are being stupid and stubborn and said like they were going to use up all the ones they already had then switch or something stupid like that, and now it’s been 9 months. so everyone should be using them right now so the judges would understand it, and get used to them, but it was just us, and now all the judges hate them because they only get them from us and it’s a whole different set up. So the judge basically said something along the lines of how much he didn’t like them and then pointedly looked at the camera, which I assumed was directed at me, so I just kinda smiled and was like “noted.” It was like the third time this week a judge had complained, which was random and odd because it’d been a while since we heard any push back from them. Oh well. that about wrapped up the work day court wise, I spent a while longer doing a million other things I need to accomplish (what I wouldn’t give for a secretary right now). The chromebook let me get to pretty much everything, I was able to print from it which was super helpful, I just couldn’t remote into my office desktop which I needed for some forms, but assuming my computer works I can do that on Monday. Around like 6:30 or so I called it a day for work and decided to make french toast for dinner, which came out quite nicely. I couldn’t decided what I wanted to put on it since I like to get a bit more creative than just syrup, and i ended up sticking like, a small scoop of ice cream on them haha from the really good brand that makes the one I adore, but this one was like creamy with blackberry and little crumbles in it and basically it was really good. I tried to watch fresh off the boat for a while, but hulu, the chromebook, and the internet connection were not working well together and the feed kept on cutting out and then would restart the episode over each time which was really fucking annoying, so I eventually gave up on that and watched some late night talk shows for a bit instead. I’ll probably try using amazon prime video tomorrow to see if it’s any better, and I was planning on watching season 2 of The Boys soon anyway. Okay yeah, then I called it a night and god I’m tired right now so I’m just gonna end this so I can go the fuck to sleep. Goodnight dudes. Happy weekend.

[fanforthefics]

Landesbarrie post-retirement AU?

And again, very very late but apparently on a roll... 

1) Tyson retires good.

Of course, there’s no good, per se, in retiring, but it means that he talks to his doctors and thinks about his body and has a good, final season, and announces a few days ahead of the final game of the regular season that this is his last year. His team makes it a respectable second round in the playoffs, and he has a respectable final skate around the ice to the cheers of the crowd that’s made him theirs, an A on his shoulder and a Stanley Cup ring on his metaphorical finger. It is, everyone agrees, a very dignified end to a very respectable career. It is, everyone also agrees, not a very characteristic end.

2) (A few days later, footage appears on various players and retired players’ social media feeds, of Tyson standing on a stage of a Vancouver ballroom, decorated with uncharacteristic discretion. “Hello all!” Tyson says, into a microphone.

“Hi!” Comes a yell back.

“We love you Tys!”

“And I love you,” Tyson agree beneficently, blowing a kiss. “All of you. As you all know, and have gathered here to celebrate, I have officially retired from the NHL.”

“Oh god, he’s going to give a speech,” someone says, near the camera.

“I don’t know what you just said, Landy, but I can feel you bringing down the room, so I’m gonna need you to bring it up,” Tyson says into the microphone.

“Anyway, as I was saying. I have retired from the NHL. And so, now that the NHL and shitty people no longer have power over me, I have gathered all of you here, my dearest friends and a few of my enemies—you know who you are—for an announcement.” He waits. Takes a breath. Then,

“Welcome to my coming out party, bitches!” he yells, and banners striped pink, lavender, and blue fall from the sides of the room as rainbow balloons tumble from the ceiling onto everyone, and Lady Gaga’s Born This Way plays.

It is, everyone agrees, a much more fitting end to Tyson Barrie’s hockey career).

(Somewhere, Matt Duchene: “Wait, he really was flirting with all the boys?”)

3) Gabe retires bad.

All retirements are bad, of course, but this means that he’s playing and he goes down, and he doesn’t get back up. He does the rehab and the PT and the surgery, and he still—doesn’t get back up. He retires on what ends up being a loss, angry and frustrated with a body that’s finally not doing what he wanted it to do, and goes back to Sweden to disappear into his frustration.

None of which stops Tyson from showing up at his door, just around when the regular season would be starting.

“Tyson?” Gabe asks, blinking. Of all the people he expected when he opened the door, Tyson Barrie was very low on the list. If only because last he heard—and he hears a fair amount—Tyson was in Seattle, working for the team.

“Brilliant observation as always,” Tyson retorts, with the bright sort of smile he always gave when he was getting away with something no one should get away just because he was cute and shameless. “You going to let me in, Landeskog?”

Gabe hasn’t talked to anyone since he retired, other than a few angry sulky texts and his family. He definitely hasn’t gone to talk to any NHL players. He hasn’t talked to Tyson, really talked, for—years. After Toronto but before Seattle, probably. There’d been some group dinners, Gabe had been at the Coming Out Party laughing with the rest of them, and he’d kept up with the gossip mainly through Nate, who made it his responsibility to keep all of Tyson’s old friends up to date minute to minute, but—they hadn’t talked.

Tyson’s still smiling. Gabe steps aside, and lets Tyson in.

4) The thing is—the thing is, they never were really a thing. Tyson and Gabe. They hooked up, sometimes, when Tyson was on the Avs. Well, a lot. Tyson would still like to see the person who could hook up with Gabe Landeskog who wouldn’t hook up with Gabe Landeskog. So like, they hooked up, and they were friends, and maybe they slept over a lot, and maybe Gabe looked at Tyson sometimes like he mattered, like he was the entirety of his world, or laughed at Tyson like he was hysterical, and maybe Tyson sometimes looked at Gabe being ridiculous and dramatic and leadery and pretending to be sensible and felt things in his stomach, but it wasn’t a thing. Or, well, they never talked about it, so it wasn’t a thing.

Then Gabe got a girlfriend and they stopped, and Tyson got a girlfriend, and they were still friends, and sometimes Gabe still looked at Tyson like that, but they still didn’t talk about it. Then Tyson got traded and they were far apart, and—things changed. The thing that wasn’t a thing changed. Disappeared. Which was fine. Tyson had had girlfriends and a few discrete boyfriends and he’d been in love and out of it, and on the list of heartbreaks of his life, Gabe and him never really happening barely ranked.

Except now, he was in Gabe’s house, and Gabe was still sulking around very loudly making sure Tyson was paying attention to him but also that Tyson knew he was in a Mood, and Tyson would say it’s not cute, but like, it’s still Gabe, who’s only aged with the dignity of a fine wine. Tyson, whose hair has been retreating faster and faster, is not jealous because if he were jealous of Gabe’s looks than he’d have burned out years ago, but still, it’s unfair. And it means that even sulking he’s not unattractive.

“Why are you here?” Gabe asks, after he’s given Tyson the tour and Tyson’s dropped his bags.

“Can’t I want to visit Sweden?”

“Tyson,” Gabe says, and it’s the same tone he’d always used to cut through Tyson’s bullshit.

“I’ve been elected representative of the ‘stop Gabe from being a sad sack’ club,” Tyson informs him, rolling his eyes. “Which I did not even put my name in for, it was a whole write in situation, but unfortunately it doesn’t seem like a refusable position, or not while Nate’s chair of it, because you know, he might always break my leg again, and—“

“I’m not a sad sack,” Gabe retorts, trying to pout but Tyson can see his lips twitching.

Tyson looks around, very pointedly, then focuses on Gabe’s sweatpants.

“I’m not,” Gabe repeats. He’s not smiling anymore.

Tyson doesn’t know this Gabe, really, but he knows the Gabe of years ago, and he’s grown up enough that he can resist pushing buttons even when they’re right there and flashing big red DO NOT PUSH signs at him. “Yeah, well, you’ve been bragging to me about the superiority of real Swedish meatballs for twenty years, so it’s time to put up, Landeskog,” he says, and Gabe’s shoulders don’t relax, exactly, but some of that anger banks.

5) It’s not exactly a fun time. Gabe’s still so angry, all the time, and it gets worse as the Avs start slow. He probably shouldn’t be watching, but he can’t help it. He should be there.

Tyson watches with him, sometimes, when he catches Gabe doing it. “I hope you know how unhealthy this is,” he says, but he sits down next to Gabe, because Tyson’s never forced Gabe into healthy choices. He’s just—there, a warm snarky bulwark dragging Gabe back up when he gets too in his head, a constant running commentary on the game until Gabe has to give him shit for being more of a commentator than the actual commentators, and then Tyson starts doing his Don Cherry impression, and somehow it’s—easier. To watch the game. To watch his team lose.

It’s like that all the time. It’s not easy. Gabe’s leg still aches, even months later, and the pain sets him on edge all the time, and he’s just so—bored. He’s used to a schedule that was regimented all the time, about all things, and now—now he has the vast expanse of years reaching out in front of him, with nothing there, and he hates it. He hates that, and he hates his friends who are still playing, and he hates his family for always asking how he is and worrying when he hasn’t had someone worrying over him like that for years.

He sort of hates Tyson too, for not giving him any of that shit, for being there even though he knows Tyson has better places to be, for somehow getting him up and out of the house, but Tyson’s always been frustratingly unhateable. Even at his most annoying, Gabe’s never managed it. And for all Tyson’s grown up, and Gabe can recognize that he is different, that he sometimes thinks before he talks and that he doesn’t go off on his half-cocked adventures anymore or any of that, he’s still—Tyson, with his ridiculous jokes and the brilliance of his smile and the caring that he hides under all of his banter. He’s still the guy who Gabe fell into twenty years ago, whose support built him up until he knew he could stand on his own. He’s still the guy who pokes at Gabe until he’s out of his head, until he remembers how to smile, even when everything else is awful.

6) “I used to dream about you coming here,” Gabe says, one night when they’re hanging out in front of the TV after dinner. Tyson had been trying to decipher the Swedish sitcom that was on the TV, mostly hopelessly, but he glances over when Gabe says it. Gabe’s half-shadowed, and he’s looking at the TV, not at Tyson.

“If this is you trying to get me to admit to jerking off in your guest room—“

Gabe rolls his eyes. “Of you visiting me here. In Sweden,” he amends, neatly cutting off that distraction. “Back—at the beginning, when we were kids.”

“So you could prove Sweden’s superiority over Canada? Because you’ve been trying and I’m still not convinced.”

“Because I wanted to share it with you,” Gabe says, still serious. Still so fucking earnest, knocking down all of Tyson’s humor with his sincerity. “You were important to me, and so is Sweden, and I wanted you to see it.”

“I’ve been here with you,” Tyson points out. “Remember? Kerf almost died and didn’t tell anyone? Dutchy beat us, just to really put a cap on everything?”

Gabe snorts. “Yeah, because that was really the time to take you sightseeing.”

“I would have.” Tyson swallows. “I mean, you were super busy with family or whatever, so I didn’t—“

“I thought about asking you to come with me. To meet everyone. But…”

“But then Nate would have tagged along, and he’s hard to explain, I know,” Tyson agrees, and Gabe sighs.

“Tys.”

“Gabriel,” Tyson retorts. Gabe still hasn’t looked away, and he’s still so—Gabe. “Are we talking about this? Now?”

“You did have a whole party and everything saying that you were ready.”

“That party was an excuse for presents. Which I haven’t gotten from you, let me say. I don’t forget that.”

“I don’t think a coming out party is like a baby shower—“ Gabe shakes his head. “Maybe we should talk about it, though. It’s been long enough.”

Long enough. Years and years of history. Of friendship, and of facing each other on the ice, and the way Gabe had squeezed Tyson’s shoulder that summer in Toronto, the way he’d said, ‘I’ll miss you, four,’ like it meant so much more, even though they weren’t—anything.

“What’s there to say?” Tyson shrugs, looking at the TV. He can barely see it and definitely can’t understand it, but it’s better than looking at Gabe. “We hooked up, then we didn’t.”

“It wasn’t that simple.”

Tyson likes to think he’s more mature than he was, that he can have a conversation when he’s cornered into it. “It sort of was, though. The timing wasn’t right. We were kids, it was the NHL, and, like—there’s a reason my party happened after I was out.”

“Yeah. But it wasn’t—we were good, right?” Gabe runs his hand over his beard, that Tyson finally got him to trim back from Viking wild to something neat.

Tyson rolls his eyes. “Are you asking about the sex? Because I mean, we were twenty, so no, it wasn’t great, but we tried, so we get an A for effort.”

Gabe chuckles. “Fine. But, I meant—the two of us. We worked, right?”

“We didn’t—Gabe, that wasn’t a relationship. You know that, right?”

“No, I didn’t notice,” Gabe drawls, then shakes his head. “Of course. Like you said, the timing wasn’t right.”

“Yeah.” Maybe they’re done with this now.

Except—Gabe’s closer on the couch, suddenly. Nearer to Tyson. Tyson looks up at him again, can feel his eyes widen. Gabe’s looking at him, and Tyson remembers that look. It still hits him the same as it did when he was twenty and so fucking easy for his beautiful, brilliant captain. “The timing’s changed.”

“Gabe—“ Tyson doesn’t know what he’s going to say. Gabe’s still Gabe, but…

“I’m not in the NHL anymore, am I?” Gabe’s lips twist, and there’s the bitterness. There’s the but. “Something good should come out of that, and we were good. We could be good.”

“Gabe.” Tyson gets up. It’s easier with distance. “Come on, man.”

“What? Do you not want me anymore?” Gabe smirks, because they both know how ridiculous that is.

“Don’t do that,” Tyson snaps at him. “Don’t—“

“Then why?”

“Because this is still shitty timing!” Tyson retorts, draws his hands into fists. This tastes like maturity, he thinks; like growing up enough to know when it’s better not to touch something. “Because you’re still so fucked up over your injury.”

“I’m not fucked up!”

“Yes you are! You’re all—angry, all the time, and you’re messed up and don’t know what to do and, I get it, Gabe. I was there, I went through it—“

“No you didn’t!” Gabe yells, and there’s that anger, finally on the surface. “You got to choose this, I wasn’t ready, I didn’t want to go out like this, it was supposed to be—“ As Tyson watches, Gabe runs out of words, just shaking his head—just shaking, his hands balled into fists.

“Yeah, very not fucked up,” Tyson agrees, sarcastic. Gabe’s eyes narrow. Tyson glares back. “You just want it because it’s—something. Because you lost hockey and you’re looking for something else to latch onto.”

“Wow, that sounds smart, did some reading?”

Tyson ignores Gabe’s vicious streak. “Yeah, Mac bullied me into therapy when I was fucked up over retiring. Learned some things.” He takes a breath. “Look, maybe I don’t get it get it, but I sort of do. And what you want—that’s not fair to either of us. We’re supposed to be adults or whatever, haven’t we moved past using each other for stability?”

For a second, it looks like Gabe’s going to keep fighting, but then the air drains out of him, his shoulders slumping and his expression going abashed at that. “I—it’s not just that,” he says. Earnest again. The bitterness under the surface but not gone. “I really did dream about you being here. About us being more. We’re still good together, Tys.”

“Yeah.” Tyson knows that, but—he’s not that kid anymore, easy for whatever his captain needed. Ready to take whatever was on offer because he didn’t understand he should have more. That he wanted more. “And if you still think that when you aren’t fucked up, you can talk to me then.”

“I—“

Tyson is so very done with this conversation. “Okay, no, you have to explain this to me,” he cuts Gabe off firmly, and sits back down, facing the TV. “Is he her kid or her boyfriend? Or her brother?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tyson can see Gabe deciding whether or not to push it. In the end, he decides not too. “Her step-brother. Well. It’s complicated,” he replies, and sits back down too, respectably far apart on the couch. Tyson tries really hard not to regret anything.

7) They don’t talk about it again. Tyson stays for another few weeks, and they keep doing their easy domesticity where Gabe figures out how to live with a leg that doesn’t always like him and a world that isn’t regimented for him, and Tyson bullies, cajoles, and annoys him into actually dealing with it. They clearly both know it’s there, more in the open than it has been for years, but they’ve lived with all of that under the surface between them before; they know how to sublimate it into their friendship. Sure, it’s harder for Tyson to stop himself from noticing that Gabe hasn’t let himself go or anything, that his hands are still stupid big and all, and Gabe can’t help but look at Tyson, all the time—he’d always been magnetic, in a way that he didn’t like to acknowledge, his easy charm and how much he loves being the center of attention, but now that Gabe’s acknowledged it it’s harder to resist.

But they ignore it, well enough, and then it’s time for Tyson to go home, because he does have a job that he can’t put off forever, and Gabe’s—doing better. He thinks. Maybe. He doesn’t know how well he’ll do after Tyson leaves, but it’s better, now.

“Yes, I’ll text you when I land,” Tyson tells Gabe, at the doorway, rolling his eyes. “I have been basically a professional traveler for my whole life, whatever.”

“You managed to break your leg in a pillow—“

“For the last time, that was Nate’s fault!” Tyson protests, but he’s laughing. Gabe’s going to miss that laugh.

It’s because of that, maybe, that he leans down, kisses Tyson’s cheek. “Thank you,” he says, low and meaning every word.

This close, he can see Tyson swallow. “Yeah, whatever, maybe now Nate and EJ’ll stop bugging me,” he mutters, like that’s why he did it. Gabe has to smile. It’s easier, these days.

“They’ll just find something else to bug you about, they can’t help it,” he points out, and Tyson lets out an irritated breath.

“No kidding.” Then he looks up, too suddenly for Gabe to move away, and they’re—they haven’t been this in years, maybe since Gabe hugged him goodbye in Toronto, that summer Tyson left. “Look, I just—if I could help, I’m glad, okay? We’re still—I still care, or whatever.” He bites off the last words, like he hates having to admit it, and has to smile again. Tyson’s always so Tyson.

He could—if he kissed Tyson right now, he doesn’t think Tyson would stop him. He wants to. He’s wanted to for weeks, but Tyson’s right. Too much of why he wants to is the urge to have something good, to leech off of Tyson’s settledness, to keep Tyson here to have something.

He steps back. “Have a good flight. Text—“

“I already said I would, god, you haven’t been my captain for a decade, honestly,” Tyson starts, and Gabe herds him out the door with him still talking. He’s still smiling as Tyson’s uber drives away.

8) Tyson goes home, and back to work. He and Gabe talk more than they have since Tyson was traded, and from what he can tell Gabe’s doing better, but Tyson’s got his work with the team and his Seattle friends to distract him, and when Nate plays Seattle he comes over and they have a good catch up which they haven’t had in too long and Tyson tells Nate everything and Nate approves, which makes Tyson feel better, and it’s—Tyson’s life, as it was. The life he’s made and he’s happy with. Maybe it’s better now that Gabe’s in it more, giving him shit and earnest praise in equal measures, bantering with him and laughing at him and all of the things that made Tyson into him in the first place, but whatever. This is enough of Gabe. Tyson doesn’t want more of Gabe than he can give.

Then, months later—Tyson’s doorbell rings.

Tyson’s not expecting anyone, but it’s not like it’s unusual for someone to drop by.

“Hello?” He says, opening the door, then stops.

Gabe is standing there, looking for all the world like a romcom hero, his hair glistening with the Seattle rain and his eyes bright. “Hey,” he says, and his smile is a little smirky, like he knows just what a dramatic moment he’s doing and he’s really enjoying it. “You said when I wasn’t fucked up, I could talk to you again.”

Tyson swallows. “And?”

“And I’m still figuring shit out, but I think it’s better.” Gabe takes a step forward. “And it’s still, always, better with you.” He pauses, then. “Can I come in?”

Tyson takes a breath, but it’s still—it’s still Gabe, and he’s not wrong. It is always better with him. “Yeah,” says Tyson, and lets Gabe in.

9) (“It’s got to be you going to Sweden,” Nate had said, and Tyson sighed.

“Why? We’re not close anymore.”

“Yeah, but he’s miserable.”

“So?”

“So he needs someone who makes him happy, and that’s always been you.”)

[what-stop-the-presses-rly-means]

Bye, Bye, Sugar Blue Eyes part 4

Race x female reader modern au

Part 1, 2, 3, x, 5, 6

Warnings: some mild swearing

A/N: I’m sorry this took forever to update, but I have parts of the next 2 chapters already done so it shouldn’t take so long in the future

——————-

So now that brings us to the present. One month in and I’m slowly and steadily becoming my role in this home. I was starting to feel somewhat like a member of this odd family. And that meant becoming more comfortable around here. Which, in turn, meant that we could laugh and goof around, but I also called them out on their bullshit when needed. Becoming a figure in this household meant that I saw everyone in it at their best and at their worst. Thankfully, there wasn’t much of the latter lately. In fact, it was almost a time of celebration.

It was currently 1:07 am and I was busy in the kitchen in full-on planning mode. And because of this, I didn’t hear the door open.

“Hey, what are you doing on my turf so late at night? On your day off, in fact.”

I dropped the wooden spoon I had been holding and whipped around. There stood Albert in his PJ’s, running a hand through his messy hair and smirking at me.

“Jeez, don’t scare me like that. I almost dropped everything.” I turned back to the bowl. “If you must know, I’m making a cake for Ben’s birthday tomorrow.”

“Ben?” He looked confused. “Oh! Bugs.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, ‘Bugs.’ I refuse to call him by that awful nickname. So he has a bit of an overbite, so what? He looks nothing like Bugs Bunny.”

Albert chuckled. “It’s all in good fun. If he truly didn’t like it, we’d all stop calling him that.” He rested his elbows on the counter opposite of me, staring into the bowl. “So what do you mean you’re making him a cake? That wasn’t on the grocery list.” He glanced over at a piece of paper tacked to the wall. “And it definitely wasn’t in the budget.”

I wiped my hands on my apron before looking up at him pointedly. “Yeah, I heard that those boys don’t ever really get an authentic birthday party each year. It damn near broke my heart. So I took it upon myself to change that. I bought all of this with my own money. Ben’s going to have a legitimate celebration tomorrow. Ten years old is an important milestone.”

Albert looked surprised to say the least. “That’s very generous of you. But you don’t have to do that. We do little things for the boys on their birthdays. I let them pick what we have for dinner and they choose which movie everyone watches that night. It’s not much, but it’s all we can do.”

My eyes softened a little. “I understand. It’s heartbreaking when you can’t give the people you love everything they deserve. But I’m sure they all know you guys try your best. And I didn’t mean to sound accusatory or anything. I just wanna do my part in making their lives as ‘normal’ as possible.”

Albert grabbed a tea kettle and started filling it with water. “Well, thank you. I’m sure they’ll love it. But I have to warn you, after tomorrow each of them is gonna be expecting the same treatment on their birthdays.”

I smiled. “I know. And that’s why I’ve decided to put back a little money from every paycheck I get so I can make it happen.”

Albert paused, causing the kettle to overflow a bit.

“Shit!” He set about drying off the counter with a nearby rag and set the kettle on the stove, turning to me. “You’d really do that?” I nodded. “That’s… wow. I’ll be honest with ya, I didn’t really know what to expect from you when you first moved in. Don’t get me wrong, you seemed nice enough, and the boys really took a liking to ya. But I wasn’t sure you’d fit in so quickly and so easily.”

He looked down at his hands, which were fiddling with an old looking friendship bracelet on his wrist. “It’s been hard, you know? The last three months. Race has been my best friend since I was eleven years old, when I moved in here. I was so scared and lost; I thought I’d never be happy again. But then this curly haired boy with a dopey grin took me under his wing. He taught me that life is so much more than 1’s and 0’s, black and white, happy and sad. And for the first time I felt like I could talk about what happened to my parents and the events that led up to me coming here.” He smiled slightly. “Race never took life too seriously. He always said that we’d already lived out all the scary parts, so all that was left was adventure and happy memories to come. And dammit if I didn’t believe him wholeheartedly.” The kettle whistled and he turned around.

I could hear him sigh. “But then his dad got sick and he had to leave. And don’t take this as me saying you did something wrong or that you aren’t good enough. Quite the opposite, actually. I just didn’t know it would be this hard to be away from my friend again.” He turned back, holding two mugs, and handed one to me with a smile. “But if we were to have anyone else here, taking care of the boys… I’m glad it’s you.” He clinked his glass to mine.

“Thanks, Al.” We stood in comfortable silence for a moment, drinking our tea. Then he glanced at all of the items on the counter before laughing.

“Okay, I know we’re all on a budget around here so I won’t scold you for getting a box cake mix, but I will share a couple secrets to make it seem like it’s homemade.” I furrowed my brow as he collected a few things from the cabinets.

“My Nonna would kill me if she knew I was allowing this to happen, but I, too, have made cake from a box once or twice.”

“Your Nonna sounds like a gem.”

He snickered at that. “Oh, yeah, she’s a saint. Though if she were to ever meet you she’d tell you that you were wearing the neckline of a hooker and devil’s makeup. But then she’d pinch your cheeks and feed you tiramisu, so you take the good with the bad.” I let out a loud laugh.

“My lips are sealed about the cake, but I’ll take any and all verbal abuse if I can eat anything made by the wonderful woman that taught you how to cook.”

He smiled sheepishly. “So, when making a chocolate cake you’re gonna want to throw in an extra egg and always use butter, even if it says to use oil.” I did as I was told. “Good.  Now if you really wanna bring out the flavor, I like to add some instant coffee into the mix.”

An hour later I was frosting the cake as Al leaned on the counter, face in his hand and eyes drooping.

“Hey, I got it from here. Go back to bed. You have the weekend shift and can’t afford to fall asleep while on duty. One of the boys might set something on fire out of sheer dumb luck.”

“Oh, and I’m sure all the added sugar from, I don’t know, a cake won’t have anything to do with that,” he said with a yawn. I lightly smacked his shoulder as he walked past.

“Hey, Al?” He turned back to me with sleepy eyes. “Race was right, in a way. Sure, you can’t guarantee that the rest of your life will be all happy moments. But the boys care about you, and you have amazing friends, and a family that loves you so much.  And a grandma that can cook circles around Gordon Ramsey, and is probably tougher than him, too,” I laughed. “Life may not be perfect; it may not be all you had hoped. But keep surrounding yourself with those people and you won’t even be able to tell the difference.”

He smiled warmly and nodded, then turned and left.

The next morning I allowed myself to sleep in, having finally gone to bed some time around 3 am. When I went downstairs it was fairly quiet. I checked to make sure no one had snuck a bite out of the cake in the fridge and made myself a cup of coffee. It was almost scarily quiet. That is, until Peter came running into the kitchen, skidding to a halt in front of me.

“Oh! Mornin’, Miss (Y/N)! I was just looking for the paper towels. I accidentally knocked over the vase by the front door. But don’t worry! Nothing’s broken.”

I cracked a smile. “Not a problem, Sweet Pea. It’s good that you’re taking initiative and helping out by cleaning up your mess.” I handed him the roll. “It’s super quiet this morning.”

“Yeah, the older boys are doing their Sunday paper route. They’re usually not back until lunchtime.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot they did that.”

“I wish I was old enough to have a job,” he sighed. I smiled down at him.

“You will be soon enough. For now, enjoy being a kid. Where your only responsibilities are going to first grade and having fun. And you’ve already exceeded those expectations by helping with some of the chores, and we’re all very thankful for that.” After contemplating that for a second, he looked pretty proud of himself. I ruffled his hair and sent him on his way.

I usually didn’t know what to do on my days off. Sometimes I would spend some time with nature and go to Central Park so I could get out of the house for a bit. Other times I would catch up with family and friends. But more often than not I’d find myself roaming around, not sure what to do. I was so used to having a list of things that needed done and watching after all the boys that even when I was off duty I found it hard to stop.

So today I took my coffee and the book I was currently reading and went out onto the front porch to enjoy the nice weather. I stopped short when I saw Rider sitting on the porch swing I had planned to sit on.

I haven’t talked to him much since that first day. I haven’t really had to since he’d stopped going out of his way to be a pain in the ass. But I had thought that since we had a mutual understanding, he would feel more open to talk about whatever has been bothering him. But he never really took me up on my offer. Not until today, that is.

I walked over to where he seemed deep in thought, startling him a bit. He looked down at the items in my hands.

“Oh, sorry. You can sit here, I’ll go.”

“No need. Can I join you? If not, that’s fine, I’ll sit somewhere else.” He paused for a moment, and then nodded once. So I sat on the opposite end of the swing, sipping my coffee. It was uncomfortably silent for a bit before I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“So how come you don’t do a paper route like the other boys?”

He scoffed. “That’s for kids. I’m not a kid. But Jack insists I’m not ‘mature enough’ for a real job yet. I think he’s afraid I’ll make enough money for a train ticket and run away or something.”

“I bet that’s frustrating. But can’t you see where he’s coming from? You haven’t exactly proven him otherwise.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “I know. I know that I’m difficult. I know that I’m acting like some teen movie stereotype. But you gotta see things from my point of view.”

“Okay, then help me understand. I’m all ears.”

He looked unsure; glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “How often do you hear about teenagers getting adopted?”

“Well, Race and Albert weren’t adopted until they were sixteen. And now they have amazing families who love them dearly.”

“It’s just… I’m already that weird, loner, orphan boy at my school. If I keep it up for much longer, no one’s gonna want to date me.” I hadn’t been expecting that. And seeing how wide his eyes got, neither had he. He looked ready to run away, so I quickly continued the conversation.

“Don’t say that. I’m sure plenty of people want to date you.” His face flushed as he avoided eye contact. Realization dawned on me. “Unless you have a particular person in mind?” He didn’t respond, but as he hid his face in his arms it kind of gave it away. “That’s great! But you shouldn’t be so concerned about them not liking you because you live in an orphanage. If something so little drives them away, then they’re not worth your time. Because ‘orphan’ is not part of your identity. Sure, you may live here and you may have a grievous, less than perfect backstory… But that does not define you. When I look at you, I don’t see ‘weird, loner, orphan boy.’ I see a young man who is strong, who doesn’t back down from a fight, who isn’t afraid to speak his mind even if it may come out a little harsh at times. Not that I’m bitter about it,” I said sarcastically, earning a small laugh from him.

“I see someone who isn’t his past, but sure as hell has a bright future ahead of him. What was it that Race always said? ‘You’ve already lived out all the scary parts, so all that’s left is adventure and happy memories.’”

He looked shocked to hear me quoting Race. Or maybe he wasn’t used to having someone have faith in him. Either way, it was upsetting seeing how easily a few words had an effect on him. His eyes searched mine for a moment and then he looked down into his lap.

“Charlie.”

“What?”

“…That’s the name of the person I…like.”

He looked so nervous, almost as if he could break down right there. So I placed my hand on his.

“Then he is lucky such an amazing boy likes him.” His head snapped to the right, looking at me with tears in his eyes. I barely had enough time to smile before he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around me. This morning has been full of unexpected things, but this topped all of them. I hugged him back just as tight. I could hear him crying in my ear as he whispered, “Thank you.”

We stayed like that for a long time. But he must’ve been afraid one of the boys would see him in this emotional state so he eventually leaned back and scrubbed at his face.

“I, uh, have never said that out loud before. Not to Race, not even to myself.”

I nodded and rubbed his back. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“I-I’m just so afraid of having all these strikes against me: Orphan, Creep, Weirdo… Gay. I don’t know if I can handle it.”

“You don’t have to wear it all on your sleeve if you’re not ready. And don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul. But if you ask me, I think you’ll find yourself a lot happier and more relieved when you can be who you truly are. But work at your own pace. And, like I’ve said, you can always talk to me.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey, so I’m throwing Ben a birthday party tonight. Wanna help? But don’t tell the other boys, it’s a surprise. I’m keeping your secret, now you can keep one for me. It’s only fair,” I smirked at him.

He laughed. “Deal.”

Ben was surprised, to say the least. It warmed my heart to see the excitement on the young boy’s face when he saw all the decorations. I was afraid the other boys would be jealous, but they were just as excited for him. Everyone sang Happy Birthday with such enthusiasm. And when the cake was passed around, the dining room was filled with happy chatter. It was so nice seeing everyone finally happy. It seemed like such a daunting task. Turns out all it takes is a little communication and a lot of sugar.

By the time we all squeezed together in the living room to watch How to Train Your Dragon, Ben’s birthday movie choice, everyone seemed content. The movie had just started when Jack’s phone rang.

“Sorry, I’ll put it on si-“ He paused as he looked at the caller ID.

“What’s wrong?”

“Uh, nothing. I have to take this. I’ll be right back.” He got up and quickly went into his office. We all shrugged and turned back to the movie. I looked over at Rider who was sitting in one of the armchairs with Peter in his lap. He was wearing the newsboy cap Rider had given him that afternoon. “Now you can pretend you have a job like the older kids,” he had said. I couldn’t stop the wide grin that spread across my face if I tried.

A little while later, Jack slipped back into his seat, looking giddy. I gave him a questioning look.

“It’s nothing,” he whispered. “But if you think everyone’s happy now, just wait.”

Tag list:

@bencookisagod

@technically-whizzy

@werkwerkelizaaa

[lilsherlockian1975]

I need to unleash about my family and, unfortunately, I must do it here. Else I explode!

Feel free to ignore me but I could really use some love and support. It’s under the cut...

Backstory: About two years ago, I got into a HUGE fight with my oldest sister regarding my mother and her finances. I will admit, I’d made some mistakes. Let me be clear: I wasn’t spending her money - far from it - I had neglected to pay her property taxes at the house she all but abandoned when she moved in with us 7 years ago. Honestly, I lied to my sisters the handful of times they bothered to ask about it (they were more than happy to just ignore most of what was going with her and let me ‘deal’ with everything). I was overwhelmed and refused to admit that I needed help. 

**I hate to fail. Hate it!! Especially in the eyes of my family.**

So, I blew them off, “Yeah, all taken care of” when frankly, I had no idea what was going on with it. I didn’t have access to mom’s checking account was not (am still not!) on it, even though she has asked me to do so several times. It’s too much. I have enough on my plate to take on her money as well. 

I take care of her entirely alone. Not just a bit, I literally do everything for her except feed her and light her cigarettes (although on bad days or if it’s windy, I sometimes do). At our old house, she could at least get around, somewhat on her own, but not here. Someone (90% of the time me) has to wheel her from room to room and outside to smoke. 

Since moving, she seems to be in the beginning stages of dementia (I have a Speech Therapist coming over this week for an assessment). She has good days and bad. Sometimes, on bad days, she forgets how to walk - and when I say walk, I mean transfer from chair to wheelchair or wheelchair to toilet and so on. Last night, for instance, after her bath, she suddenly forgot how to stand and pull up her diaper at the same time. I was forced to hold her full weight of 200lbs and pull up the diaper at the same time. She put all her weight on my left shoulder, dead weight. I managed to keep her from falling, but because she’s so short (about 5′1″ and I’m 5′11″) I had to drop to my knees and brace her like I was changing a toddler. I thought she’d dislocated my shoulder but in now I think it’s probably just a pulled muscle. We’ll not talk about my knees, which aren’t in good shape from years of abuse, playing sports.  My point is: this is fucking hard. I quit my job to do this and it affects every aspect of my life, my marriage, my family. My typical day starts at 7.30am. If I’m lucky, Mom’s still asleep when I take H to school, but she’s always awake when I get home, yelling my name: Liiiiilllliiiiaaaan! In a sing-song voice. I HATE my name. Please never call me Lillian. Ever! I help her out of bed and into her wheelchair - about half the time she’s either soaked the bed (thankfully, my brilliant husband bought her a water-proof hospital mattress and it can be cleaned easily with bleach - but the laundry is another story), peeing through her diaper or crapped herself - no matter what time I get her up. We wheel into the bathroom and I clean her. If it’s bad (a nasty poo): Bathtime! If not, I still have to clean my mother’s bottom and girl-bits (repeat that about 4 to 5 times a day). She wants her meds next (my mother LOVES taking medicine) then wants to smoke, so it’s off to the porch. While she’s out there, I prepare her breakfast (usually an Ensure, some fruit and something sweet - old people love sweet things because those are the last tastebuds to ‘die’, or so I’m told). I’ve also been giving her some tea to replace the craptastic Diet Rite that I now refuse to let her have (she’s still mad at me about that one!). She’s usually good for about an hour or so, then it’s back outside for more cancer sticks. In between her smoking trips, I’m cleaning, doing laundry and P’s homeschooling (which is basically at an end, but he’ll be doing a smaller summer program too). Sometimes she naps, sometimes, when her bipolar is flaring, she calls me over and over, just for attention. I understand, it’s part of her and there’s nothing she can do about it. Then lunch (and clean up, because she always drops food) smoking, bathroom, smoking, bathroom. Dinner - clean up. Smoking, bathroom, smoking, bathroom. She’s suddenly refused to read - the only thing I remember actually doing from my youth - and now obsessively watches CNN. I feel responsible for this; I’ve turned my conservative, fundamental Christian mother into (and I’ll quote my beloved father on this one) a Pinko! She’s a liberal all of a sudden. Whatever. Every other day, she gets a bath. Once a week I wash and set her hair. I have to apply eye treatments, help her with her nebulizer, and administer her meds (if not, she overtakes them). I also try to keep her mind engaged, hoping it will stave off any deterioration that’s happening, talking about current events, reading my (not smutty) stories, asking any questions I can think of to make her brain ‘work’. She goes to bed at 10 on the dot every night and FINALLY, I can be alone with my husband if we manage to get the boys to leave alone, that is. 

Why would I do this? And, why am I bitching? I asked for it, right?

I’ve only mentioned this once before, and just recently broached it with my psychiatrist (because he figured it out, the sneaky bastard! “Lillian, did your father pointedly ask you to take care of your mother before he died?” - Internally: Of course he did, you sadist! Out loud: “Yes, he did. And I promised him I would.” - “What did he say? His exact words? I know you remember them.” - I really don’t want to do this... “Someone will have to take care of her, Lillian, she’s never taken care of herself. Never balanced a checkbook, never pumped her own gas. I can’t leave not knowing she’ll be okay. I love her too much...” I’ll never forget it. That man’s devotion is why I’m so fucked up! “And you feel like you can’t let him down?” Fuck me! Now I’m crying!)

I don’t know if he had similar conversations with the other kids (three of them, all much older and none of them with kids at home! Frankly, I don’t care. ALL of them make significantly more money than me and Mr Lil - we are practically destitute compared to all of them!) but I got her and she’s mine. I do this because it’s the right thing to do.

Now, to my current frustration, finally. Gin, my oldest sister, is selling mom’s house for $10,000. It may be worth more, but this is not my problem. Mom’s agreed to it and I don’t want to be involved. Her day to day care is my problem, not her money. I don’t touch it other than to reimburse us for what we spend on her, and nothing more. Mom, on one of her better days, told me she wants to pay me for caring for her, but I’m afraid about the backlash from the family. Mind you, she (alone!) makes more than we do as a family of 4. She also wanted to give us $2000 toward the house. I refused it for the same reason. She doesn’t know this, thinks I took it.  Gin has access to her account - she put herself on the account - she did this even though mom wasn’t really comfortable with it. Today, she texts me & our other sister in a group text, telling me to send a $3000 check to pay off the back property taxes (that she was supposed to be taking care of since I failed to... um, she failed as well, what do ya know?!). I text back, ‘can mom pay that much at once’ - she says, ‘yes’ - I still have to buy mom’s meds and a new walker this week and all her normal expenses, so I ask Gin how much mom has in her account. Her response? ‘Enough, Lillian. Just send the check.’. 

I ask you, how is that suppose to make me feel? It’s like she doesn’t trust me with the amount. Like I’m gonna go nuts and buy myself somethin’ French! But the idiot doesn’t realise that I have the account holder in my living room. I have mom call the bank and find out. She’s got well over $6000. How is that not enough to know that I’ve not been thieving from our mother?!  I’m so tired of being trusted to wipe her ass but not with anything else! I work my ass off for her - never going on vacation, never really taking much (or any) time for myself while the others take two, three, four trips a year. I can’t leave her alone and just go shopping or have a day out with my family. The other night, we wanted to go out to eat and try the new Mexican place in town. Mom didn’t want to go. We couldn't leave her, so... nope. Pizza again. When the four of us went to see End Game, my mother-in-law came to sit with her, not either of my sisters (and certainly not my worthless brother who, admittedly, lives 3 hours away but hasn’t phoned ONE TIME in the last 7 years to check on her... or me!). They couldn’t be arsed. Gin has promised over and over to ‘take her for the weekend, every two weeks’ to ‘give me a break’. It’s happened once, the weekend we moved. Never before, never again. She’s never really thanked me, even though she told our sister that she has. After returning mom after the move she told me that she told her husband, “Lillian deserves sainthood for doing this every day. Mom exhausted me and I only had her for two and a half days.” It was the only (I’m not even exaggerating) time she’s ever even mentioned how hard this is.  I don’t want anything from them. I don’t ask for their help because I know they won’t give it (my middle sister actually said, ‘don’t ask me to help with mom, I won’t do it’) but how about not making me feel like a dirtbag? How about, I don’t know, saying, “Hey, Lillian, Mom has plenty of money, you should pay yourself a bit every month. You work hard to make her quality of life really good and deserve it.” Or even a simple, “Thank you. Thank you for taking care of our mother, we appreciate that you do it and we don’t worry about her safety and wellbeing.” No one has EVER said this to me. Not once. 

[artificialqueens]

Crimson Oddity (Scyvie) - Eliptic

New fic who dis. The lore regarding supernatural being is followed closely but not exactly to the lore in Shadowhunters with a dash of Vampire Diaries and Wolfblood for convenience. We need more Scarlet and Yvie and supernatural Aus are my thing so here we go! ~Eliptic

Scarlet impatiently tapped her red nails against the bar, sharp eyes scanning the crowd, looking among the thrashing bodies as they danced to the pounding music. Her gig had ended an hour earlier so now she sat, gold dress hiked up showing long legs as she searched for someone who caught her eye, sipping her drink she finally set her sights on a shy looking man sitting by himself. Slowly she made her way through the crowd.

“This seat taken?” she asked flirtatiously.

“Uh no, go ahead.” He stuttered.

“I’m Scarlet.” She said smiling while holding her hand out daintily.

“I uh know…I mean I saw your set, you were really good and you look amazing.” He said flustered “I’m David by the way.”

“Why thank you David. You don’t look half bad yourself. Are you here by yourself?” Scarlet inquired looking him up and down, a sultry grin on her face.

“My friend dragged here, but uh last I saw him he was dry humping some guy on the dance floor, pretty sure he abandoned  me so he could get laid.” David chuckled awkwardly messing with his half empty glass.

Scarlet smiled placing her hand over his. “I hope my company with suffice.” David blushed as she moved closer, placing her hand on his thigh. “Let’s take this somewhere more private.” She whispered in his ear intertwining their fingers.

“Yeah okay.” He said breathlessly allowing her to tug him out back.

Scarlet grinned wickedly once they were outside, she shoved David against the brick, kissing him hard, putting her leg between his as he gripped her cinched waist, her lips traveling to his neck fangs extending scratching against soft flesh.

“What the hell are you doing?” A guy shouted.

Scarlet repressed a growl as David pushed her away looking at the tall guy who was walking toward them looking angry.

“I I didn’t know he had a boyfriend, sorry man.”

“I don’t,” Scarlet said smoothing her wig “I don’t know him.”

“Bullshit.” The Stanger said “Get out of here, we need to talk.” He said grabbing Scarlet’s wrist. David ran back into the bar.

Scarlet angrily slammed him into the wall “What the hell!”

“I wasn’t just going to let you kill that guy, vampire.” The man spat out bitterly.

“You’re a wolf.” Scarlet said rolling her eyes “I wasn’t going to kill him, we were just going to have a fun night, until you showed up.” She pushed him aside picking her boa off the ground.

“You’re in my packs territory, hunting humans-“

“You’re in Honey’s pack? Then you should know that the gay bars are neutral since we all perform at them. So thank you for being a huge cock block and ruining my dinner.” She snarled “Unless you’re offering your neck.”

“I’d rather wear silver on a new moon.”

Scarlet dashed inside to collect her things before running back to her apartment. Kicking off her heels she flopped on the couch sighing heavily as her stomach ached with hunger. De-dragging quickly Scarlet placed a blood bag in the microwave, reluctantly drinking the lukewarm blood cringing at the taste. Her phone rang loudly with Shuga’s ringtone.

“Hey.” She answered dumping the rest of blood down the sink.

“Hi honey, I need a favor.” Shuga asked.

“Fix a stitch or hide a body?”

“Neither. I have a meeting with James’s pack and the Seelies tomorrow but mine and Gilbert’s flight has been delayed and I don’t think I’m gonna be back in time.”

“So you want me to fill in for you, Jesus you know I hate dealing with the politics, I did it enough when I was human.”

“I know Jacob, but you’re the only one I trust not to let emotions get in the way, Plus you’re the second oldest so responsibility falls to you when I’m not around.”

“That condition only applies if you’re dust dead, not when you’re in Paris. Besides I pissed one of the wolves off tonight, so I doubt they’ll be happy to see me.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing, he started it. Honey should teach her wolves not to interrupt a feeding vampire.”

“Oh so that’s why you’re cranky. Just have a blood pack and chill, you have to be there by ten.”

“Can’t you send Brooke?”

“Conflict of interest since she’s been seeing the Seelie representative.”

Scarlet let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine, but you owe me.”

“Thank you girl.” Shuga hung up before Scarlet could change her mind.

“Fuck!” She yelled at  nothing in particular.

Scarlet knew the meeting would be short and simple as it always was, they’d just go over the rules and promise not to kill each other for another year, but the wolves and her clan could hardly stand each other while the fae tried to keep the peace. Scarlet personally had nothing against the wolves, with the exception of the prick from earlier. The wolves saw vampires as abominations, the illusion of life while they were duel life. In all fairness some of her clan were cold toward the wolves, seeing them as animals that sometimes wear human skin.

Sighing heavily Scarlet got into bed, setting an alarm figuring she could get some sleep to make up for the lack of blood in her system, She definitely had to find someone to feed from after the meeting.

“Stupid Shuga and her stupid delayed flight.” She muttered as he tried to get comfortable.

9:40  

Scarlet sat in the bar impatiently twisting her daylight ring as she waited for the others, wishing she had brought A’keria with her to keep her from going insane.

Magic crackled in the air as the Seelie portaled in

“Scarlet? Did Shuga bite the dust?” Vanessa said taking a seat across from her.

“No, just delayed in Paris. So you get me instead. You’re welcome.” She said flipping her hair sarcastically.

Vanessa chuckled rolling her eyes. “Honey’s gonna love this.”

“It’s one meeting I’m sure James can deal.” Scarlet said taking a sip of the blood she had poured into a glass.

“Girl, you brought that just to piss her off.” Vanessa said pushing her hair behind a pointed ear.

“No, I brought it because one of her pack interrupted my feeding last night and I’m hungry.” She took another sip “And if it happens to piss her off, well that just too bad.”

“It’s still petty bitch.”

“Maybe a tad.” Scarlet smirked, her head cocked to the side as two wolves entered the bar.

“You’re not Martinez.” Honey said pointedly.

“Unfortunately Shuga couldn’t make it today so she sent me in her place.” Scarlet said standing up and extending a hand “Jacob James or Scarlet Envy, I’ll answer to either.”

Honey reluctantly shook hands, before turning the attention the wolf standing behind him, “This is Jovan, or Yvie, he’s new to the pack wanted to acquaint him with the rules.”

Scarlet resisted the urge to make a face as she recognized Yvie as the wolf from last night. “I believe we’ve already met.” She said extending his hand again.

“Jovan, please tell me you didn’t do anything stupid.”

“I-“ Yvie started

“We just happened to run into each other after my gig last night is all.” Scarlet interrupted sitting back down. “Shall we get started.”

The three talked for awhile, just reiterating everything from before agreeing to get along for another year. They shook on it, signed some papers and parted ways

“Scarlet, wait up.” Yvie called before she could blur away. Scarlet turned around puzzled as the young wolf jogged up to her. “I wanted to apologize, for last night. I didn’t know about the boundaries. I’ve only been here for a month, I’m still getting the lay of the land, and you didn’t have to cover for me with Honey so thanks.”

Scarlet was taken aback “It was a misunderstanding, try not let it happen again, some of my sisters would be less forgiving.”

“Let me get you a drink.” Yvie said gently touching Scarlet’s wrist.

“I thought you’d rather wear silver on a new moon.” Scarlet teased.

“I meant the alcohol kind not…”

“Oh right,” She blushed embarrassed “Sorry, blood on the brain I guess.”

“Yeah, suppose that’s my fault.”

“Just a bit, but uh I will take you up on that drink, I’m off tonight so meet me at Mary’s at say nine.”

“Sounds good.”

“Yvie!” Honey yelled.

“Coming! See you tonight.”

Scarlet smiled sweetly waving as Yvie ran off to join Honey, who was giving Scarlet a cold glare.

Scarlet got back to her apartment only to find the door unlocked, she rolled his eyes “Ariel, I gave you that key for emergencies.”

“We ran out of Doritos.” Ariel said from her spot on the couch.

“You don’t even need to eat.”

“Yeah but it still tastes good.” She said eating a chip “Where were you this morning anyway.”

“Covering for Shuga at the meeting of the clans.”

“Yikes, Honey give you the third degree?”

“It was only the first degree, Met their new pack member, who is actually really nice and I think I have a date with tonight.”

“You have a date with a werewolf?” Ariel’s jaw dropped “And I thought Brooke was insane for befriending one.”

“He seems nice, he even apologized for being a dick last night.”

“That’s certainly new coming from Honey’s pack.”

“Honey didn’t look happy about it, but too bad. Are you gonna help me pick out an outfit or not.”

“Obviously, you can’t be trusted to dress yourself.” Ariel teased blurring back to Scarlet’s bedroom.

9:20

Scarlet sat alone in the back of the bar, nursing a drink in one hand while constantly checking the time with the other.

9:40

Scarlet sighed shoving her phone in her pocket and downing the rest of her drink before standing up getting ready to leave when Yvie’s scent wafted into the club, she sat back down watching as Yvie made her way through the crowd.

“Sorry I’m late.” Yvie said squeezing into the booth with her. “I had to sneak out.”

“Sneak out?” Scarlet said amused “How old are you?”

“I should be asking you that.”

“A lady never tells.” She said flipping her hair “Honey give you a hard time about coming to meet me?”

“To say the least. She thinks you’re trying to use me for something, I don’t know. I don’t think she did either, just wanted to keep me from coming.”

“My sister Ariel was a bit shocked too, not that she could have done anything being second youngest.”

“Well Honey’s the alpha so I’m definitely screwed when I get back.”

“You didn’t have to come. I would have understood.”

“I owe you a drink, speaking of, I’ll be right back.” Yvie said before heading to the bar, coming back with two drinks.

“So,” Scarlet said taking a drink. “You’re new to town?”

“Uh yeah, James found me last month after a bad moon, brought me here to help me.”

“You don’t sound to confident on that help.”

“He’s overprotective, which I get. I’ve only been a wolf for four months, so it’s a been…hectic, but it gets to a point where it’s too much, too suffocating. Like tonight, I’m a grown ass man I can see whoever I want.”

“And you wanted to see me?”

“I don’t want you thinking I’m a douche bag. From what I’ve seen and been told my pack and you’re clan don’t really get along.”

Scarlet laughed dryly “Yeah, I think it’s more of a species thing. I can’t imagine your inner wolf if too happy about being around a vampire.”

Yvie gave her a confused look. “Actually he’s pretty calm considering.”

It was Scarlet’s turn to look confused “According to Nina the smell of a vampire puts her wolf on edge. It took her and Brooke a long time to get use to each other’s scents.”

Yvie shrugged “My wolf and I are still getting use to each other so maybe that’s why.”

“Funnily enough, you don’t reek as wolves usually do… that came out wrong.” Yvie laughed as Scarlet tried to recover. “I just mean that you don’t smell like the other wolves I’ve met.”

“So how long have you and your clan been here.” Yvie said mercifully changing the subject.

“Five years, we have to move every twenty or so cause odds are humans will notice that we don’t age.”

“That seems so weird to me, just I can’t imagine not moving forward.”

“We move forward, just not physically. It was definitely strange at first, watching people grow old around you when you don’t.” Scarlet looked down twisting her ring.

“Sounds lonely.”

“It was, but that’s why we form clans. We’re stuck like this we might as well commiserate.”

“I guess that’s why we form packs too. I tried to be a lone wolf.” Yvie absentmindedly ran her fingers over the scar on the side of her neck. “It didn’t go to well.”

“Maybe wolves and vampires aren’t as different as we think.”

Yvie smiled, finishing her drink. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Oh?” Scarlet asked raising an eyebrow.

“I’m antsy, and if I have more of these I’m gonna get on stage and make an ass out of myself.” Scarlet chuckled downing her drink before following Yvie outside, once they were Yvie looked up at the quarter moon taking in a deep breath. “Wanna go for a run?”

“If you can keep up.” Scarlet teased blurring ahead.

“Come on I know just the place.” Yvie took Scarlet by the hand leading her to her car. They drove for awhile until they were out of the city before Yvie pulled up in front of a farm. “I stumbled upon this place a few days after moved here. An old wolf owns it, He prefers to be alone but occasionally likes the company. He lets me come up here to blow off steam when I need to.” Yvie explained “So Miss. Envy, fancy a race.”

“I suppose I could teach you a few things.” Scarlet smirked taking off her jacket.

“We’ll see.” Yvie grinned, eyes glowing green. “Mind turning around for a minute.” She said making a clawing motion with her hands.

“Oh right.” Scarlet turned around, hearing some shuffling followed by bone cracking, she cringed only able to imagine Yvie shifting painfully until she heard a huff, she turned around marveling at the gray wolf that Yvie became. “Impressive. Let’s see what you can do”  Scarlet smirked taking off down the field, Yvie close on her heels.

“That the best you can do?” she yelled back, voice distorted from the speed. Yvie growled playfully, picking up speed. Scarlet turned her attention back in front of her. They ran down the field for a few minutes before Yvie built up enough speed, jumping at Scarlet’s back knocking her to the ground, Yvie bounded on top of her licking her face.

“Yuck, dog breath.” Scarlet laughed. Yvie bounced off snuggling into Scarlet’s side. Scarlet stroked her soft fur, causing the wolf to practically melt against her. “You’re just a giant puppy dog aren’t you.” Scarlet said continuing to pet Yvie.

“Hello Jovan.” They both jumped, not having heard the older wolf. “I see you brought a friend.” He said scanning Scarlet with wary eyes. Yvie hopped up going over to the other wolf who patted her on the head before gesturing in the direction of the car. “Return to human and we will talk.” Yvie looked back at Scarlet for a moment before running back toward the car. “Patrick Holt.” He said extending a hand to Scarlet.

Scarlet blurred so that she was standing, shaking the dirt off. “Jacob.” He said shaking Patrick’s hand.

“I’ll admit I was not expecting a vampire.”

“I’m sorry, Jovan said it was fine. I’ll go.”

“No, no its fine. Just wasn’t expecting it. Given James’s distaste for your people.”    

 “Yeah, he’s not exactly happy about it.”

“Oh I don’t doubt that.” Patrick chuckled “I’d offer you something but I don’t have any O-neg on me.”

“I prefer B-Positive anyway.” Scarlet joked.

“Not funny, that’s my blood type.” Yvie said rejoining them.

“I know.” Scarlet winked.

“So did you two come just to disturb my land?” Patrick said pointing to the small crater they had made.

“Sorry.” Yvie said guiltily.

“Nonsense, storms have done worse. I’m just giving you a hard time.” Patrick laughed patting Yvie on the shoulder. “Sorry for interrupting you boy’s date, just wanted to see what all the noise was about.”

“Oh it’s not a-I’m mean unless you want it to be.” They stuttered in unison.

“That doesn’t usually happen until the third year of marriage.” Patrick said looking between them amused. “I’ll leave you two to figure it out, just try not to break anything else.” Patrick turned on his heel heading back to the farmhouse.

Yvie and Scarlet looked at each other laughing slightly.

“You know this has been a pretty good date, if it is one that is.” Yvie said as they headed back to the car.

“Yeah it has been.” Scarlet smiled shyly.

“Maybe we should do this again.”

“Honey would kill both of us.”

“Only if she finds out.”

“You think we can keep this relationship a secret from your alpha?”

“Shouldn’t be that that hard.” Yvie shrugged getting in the car.

Scarlet laughed dryly “I like you, a lot.”

“Why do I feel a ‘but’ coming.”

Scarlet bit her lower lip, thinking for a moment. “No but. I like you.“ she intertwined their fingers “And I spent a very long time denying my who I am and how I feel. I swore that I  wouldn’t that anymore. So fuck it, let’s do this.”

Yvie smiled leaning in but Scarlet quickly placed her hand on her chest. “I don’t want to get my scent all over you. This is meant to be a secret. Remember?”

“Good point. Another time then.”

“Another time.” Scarlet promised getting out of the car. Yvie reluctantly waved goodbye before driving back towards the city. Scarlet watched the car until it disappeared from view, her expression shifted to one of worry as ran her tongue over her fangs.