#[ But I doubt I’ll be back for a little while longer it seems unfortunately ] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

anxiousgaypanicking · 7 months ago

Text

What You Need

Synopsis: Two days without eating and three without sleeping sounded like the normal schedule for college student Logan Berry. He’s in class all day and works all night just to barely pay off his rent every month. Constant bills leave little room for bare necessities, and it’s clear that his current lifestyle is very damaging. While looking for solutions, he comes across one that seems… mediocre at best, but he’s desperate. What is this solution? A sugar daddy.

Taglist: @witchesgetstitchesblog @book-limerence @romans-dull-creativity @seeyoube @dragonheart905 @some-distant-star @rr170 @nightweirdo @librowyrm @kitkat4406

Part Ten

Masterlist

“Hey, Mom,” Logan answers, as he turns away from Janus in order to pick up his ringing phone. Janus immediately perks up at Logan’s words, and after a bit of shaking and mouthing words, Logan begrudgingly puts the phone on speaker. “Yeah, I’m just at home. There’s no class today.”

“Nothing to study?” his mom - Caroline - asks. Her words aren’t meant to be playful, and they cause Janus’s face to scrunch up in disgust.

Logan merely answers “no; we won’t get our material for this semester’s exams until closer to Christmas.”

“Are the exams right before break?”

“Unfortunately,” Logan says, and Janus seems significantly more disinterested in their rather stiff conversation. He almost goes to get up and leave to grab snacks, only for Caroline to say somebody’s name and call them over.

Then, she clears her throat. “I think you know the real reason me and your father called, though,” she starts, which has Logan looking a bit more sheepish.

“Yeah.”

“Happy birthday, Logan!” the male - Logan’s father, Anthony - exclaims, followed by a softer and more stoic “happy birthday,” from his mother.

“Thanks,” Logan awkwardly responds, as Janus gives him one of the most dramatic looks of shock and betrayal he’s ever seen. “I miss you guys.”

“We miss you, too,” Anthony replies. “Are you still coming home for Christmas?”

Logan ignores Janus shaking his leg wildly in favor of replying to his parents, though that doesn’t dissuade Janus’s shocked movements as he tries to get Logan’s attention (no doubt to scold him for neglecting to bring up it was his birthday). “That’s the plan.”

“That’s good. Just let us know when you’ll have off, and I’ll purchase your ticket,” Caroline says. “How long would you estimate your school will be out?”

Logan makes a face of confusion, and looks towards Janus for help. Janus shrugs, before shaking Logan faster as he whisper-shouts “it’s your birthday?!”

Nodding, Logan whispers back “yes,” and then pushes Janus away and onto his back on his bed. He watches as Janus rolls over and rushes to pull out his phone, which he then begins furiously typing on. Logan thinks nothing of it as he tells Caroline “I assume about two weeks, but it could be longer. I’ll email one of my professors and check if they know.”

“Sounds good,” Anthony affirms. “We can’t wait to see you.”

“The feeling is mutual.” Logan feels his own phone begin to buzz in his hand, and as he glances at his notifications, he sees both texts and calls beginning to flood in from Remus and Roman. Face going bright red, Logan shoots a wide-eyed look towards Janus, who is grinning proudly back at him. “I have to go… I am admittedly kind of busy.”

“Well, in that case, don’t let us keep you,” Caroline softly sighs, before Anthony happily says “we love you! Make sure to bring some of your physics work down when you come to visit; I miss science!”

Logan ignores his father’s request, and instead says “I love you too,” before hanging up. He continues to clutch his vibrating phone in two hands, as he’s suddenly swarmed with a slew of messages.

“Did you tell the twins it was my birthday?” he asks, as Janus immediately grabs his shoulders.

“Of course I did,” Janus answers, before sassily turning this back around on Logan. “Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?!”

Logan looks a bit surprised at the question, before he throws his phone aside. It lands off to the side, near his pillows. “I honestly didn’t think it was that big of a deal!”

Logan stands and pushes himself out of bed. He’d spent all morning lounging around in pajamas with Janus, as they both slowly woke themselves up. Having free time was weird, and Logan continuously found himself just pacing the length of his apartment as he struggled with not having to go straight to work after labs and lectures. Janus had been spending the night more often, which Logan actually enjoyed considering he got both company, and a ride to campus the next day.

“It’s a huge deal,” Janus insists, as he follows Logan out of his room and into the kitchen. A majority of Logan’s counters were covered in packaged food, as not everything Remus and Roman bought for him could fit into his cabinets. “How would you feel if I didn’t tell you my birthday?”

Logan grabs an apple from his fridge. “I’d feel fine,” he answers, before taking a bite. “It’s your birthday. What would it matter to me that you prefer to keep it private?”

“Do you prefer to keep your birthday private?”

Tossing Janus an apple of his own, Logan thinks for a moment. “I truly have no preference; it’s simply another day. Turning twenty-one was honestly the last big ‘birthday’ of my life, because at least then I could drink. Now, I can still drink, so I haven’t really had any reason to celebrate.”

“You get to let loose for a day!” Janus insists. “You get to have the people you love around you, all cherishing your existence!”

Though the thought of that does sound nice, Logan raises an eyebrow at that description coming from Janus.

Catching on, Janus smiles cheekily. “Okay, okay. And you get free food and gifts.” Janus leans against the counter. “I personally like being spoiled and pampered for a day. It’s a great opportunity to be a little selfish while everyone bends to heed your beck and call.”

“And by ‘everyone,’ in this situation, are you implying you’ll be at my ‘beck and call?’”

Janus hums as he considers the rhetorical question. “Maybe not me; I’m not good at treating others. The twins however…”

Logan smiles softly as he thinks about the twins, and how quickly they seemed to read and take action in response to Janus’s text. “I didn’t need them to know it was my birthday,” he says, though he doesn’t sound like he minds all too much. “That’s like telling your employer it’s your birthday.”

“Except in this case, your employer is a hot guy who can buy you expensive gifts,” Janus argues. “Or buy you a nice dinner, or take you out.”

“All Remus does already is take me out. I don’t need to use my birthday as an excuse to get him to bring me someplace nice.” Logan brings his apple to his lips, but he doesn’t bite it, instead too lost in thought. After a moment, he adds “I don’t know if I should go out today, anyway. A few of my professors already released study guides for the upcoming exams. It might be more time efficient to spend my birthday studying.”

Janus flops onto his couch, and ends up groaning out “ugh, that’s no fun. I hate exams. I can’t wait until I’m out of college and never have to take another test.”

Logan sits beside him, though he has to physically lift Janus’s legs off his cushions in order to plop himself down. He does let Janus prop his calves up on his thighs afterwards however. He finally sinks his teeth into his Red Delicious.

Both of them enjoy their fruity breakfast in silence, and Logan even finishes his fruit fully, before he turns to Janus and says “you know… I’ve never asked what you’re majoring in.”

Janus glances at him, as he swishes a small chunk of apple back and forth in his mouth. “You’re right. You haven’t.”

“What is it?”

“Psychology.”

Immediately, Logan is chuckling, and shaking his head slightly. “Really? No judgement or anything, of course, but I honestly can’t imagine you being a counselor or a psychiatrist, and I know those are the two main fields people go into psychology for.”

Janus kicks Logan lightly, and utters “dick… but, you’re right. I dislike people too much to dedicate my career to listening and helping. For the most part, at least.” Stretching his legs out, Janus crosses one ankle over the other, and lovingly digs his soles into Logan’s thighs. “I want to be a psychopathologist and help actually research and study mental illnesses and disabilities. But that requires a graduate degree, which means I’m basically going to be stuck in college for the rest of my life.”

“It won’t be the rest of your life,” Logan quells him, as he pushes Janus’s legs away. He takes Janus’s apple core and holds it with his own, before tossing their chewed remnants into the trash. “Just a good majority of your young-adult years.”

“That’s too many years, in my opinion.” Janus wiggles himself far into the couch to get comfortable, and ends up looking like he’s going to take a nap. However, he very quickly hits Logan with “don’t think this is distracting me from the fact it’s your birthday, though. Try and deflect all you want, but you can’t escape the real topic at hand.”

As if on cue, Janus’s phone begins to ring. He reaches into the deep, warm pockets of his pajama pants and pulls it out, before grinning smugly and tossing it to Logan.

“It’s Remus,” Janus says, as he crosses his arms behind his head.

Logan can clearly read the caller ID, but thanks Janus anyway as he answers the phone, and immediately clicks it to speaker.

“Janus!” Remus immediately exclaims, voice both incredibly loud and wildly distorted, as if the phone is being dangled out the window of a fast-moving car. “Tell Logan to answer his fucking phone! I have to wish him a happy birthday!”

“You’re talking to Logan,” Logan answers, before adding a soft “hi, Remus. My phone’s in my room; Janus and I were eating breakfast.”

“Ugh! You’ve been torturing me! Here I am trying to contact my baby boy, and he’s ignoring me! On his birthday! Which he didn’t even tell me about! Now I’m about to show up empty-handed on the most important day of the year!”

“About to show up…” Logan repeats, before furrowing his eyebrows and asking with a smile “are you coming here?”

“Of course we are! Roman’s tagging along of course, but that’ll just be to steal you and Janus so we can take you out for a real celebration!”

“Remus, I-”

There’s a bunch of noise that blasts through the phone, making Logan cringe as his hand stims against his thigh. The glitching, buzzing noise is only briefly cut through with Roman yelling at Remus for “speeding” (or something akin - it’s hard to make out), before it settles. Once the phone sounds normal again, Logan says “Remus, you really don’t have to rush all this way. Janus and I aren’t even dressed, and I really-”

Abruptly, the phone hangs up. Sighing, Logan turns towards Janus with an eye roll.

“There’s no dissuading them, is there?” he asks.

“Nope.” Though his eyes are closed, Janus’s mouth stretches into a teasing smile. “Guess you better prepare to have the best twenty-something birthday ever.”

Logan snorts. “You don’t even know how old I am?”

“You don’t know how old I am,” Janus counters. “We’re evenly matched.”

“I’m turning twenty-two.”

“Fuck.” Janus sits up properly. “I was betting we were the same age.”

“You’re not twenty-two? Oh, please don’t tell me you’re younger. I don’t like the implication you’ve been drinking underage…”

Janus stretches his leg out to kick Logan’s thigh before he sits back down. “Calm down; I’m twenty-three. If I was drinking underage, I wouldn’t be doing it in front of you. You look like the snitching type.”

Logan’s nose scrunches up. “It wouldn’t be snitching; it’d be looking out for your developmental growth. If you drink underage it can lead to memory impairment, difficulty controlling impulses, aggressive and depressive behaviors-”

“As if drinking at twenty would be significantly worse than drinking at twenty-one.”

“You shouldn’t be advocating for underage drinking anyway. It’s the law.”

“Law-shmaw,” Janus muses, “it’s all just government propaganda…”

Logan narrows his eyes, and crosses his arms over his chest as his weight shifts from one leg to the other. “Now you’re just fucking with me.”

Janus laughs, and gives a playful shrug, which has Logan shaking his head in mock disappointment. He goes to sit back down next to him and relax until the twins inevitably arrive, but luckily they seem to get here far faster than Logan expects them to.

Loud knocking echoes suddenly throughout Logan’s small apartment. Judging by the quick and repeated bangs, they’re clearly impatient, so Logan moves quickly to let them inside.

Immediately Logan’s being grabbed and spun around, and his face is aggressively rubbed against Remus’s own with such intensity Logan believes he might actually develop rug burn from Remus’s prickly mustache. “Happy birthday!” Remus squeals, as Logan’s twirled around and around until he’s dizzy, with Remus squeezing him so tight Logan finds himself incapable of taking in even the smallest of breaths. When he’s finally placed back down on, Roman immediately butts in front of Remus, and takes Logan’s hand in his. Roman kisses his knuckles, and bows dramatically deep.

“Happy birthday,” he says, grinning charmingly. “We’re here to make sure today is the best day of your entire life.”

Remus immediately elbows Roman in the side. “Piss off,” he hisses, before scooping Logan into his arms as Roman pouts and goes to grab Janus. “I’m here to make sure today is special,” Remus says, a lot more quietly, as though his words are meant for Logan and Logan only. “Roman and I were brainstorming the entire car ride… Though, we could have had way more time to plan if someone didn’t neglect to tell me that the most important day of the year was rapidly approaching.”

“I didn’t think it was this important,” Logan argues, as Remus attacks his face with sloppy kisses. “And I don’t mean that in any sort of… self deprecating way. I just thought that as an adult it’d be akin to any other day.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Remus murmurs, before kissing Logan’s head. “It can be fun, and exciting, and an excuse to get a little freaky.”

Logan snorts. “As if you need an excuse to get freaky.”

Remus laughs, and gives Logan a final spin before Janus grabs Logan’s house keys and leads them out the door, reminding Logan that it’s the twins’ intention to treat him today.

Remus and Logan lag behind Roman and Janus, who load into the front and passenger seat in the nice car they drove here in, leaving the back to Remus and Logan.

“Hey,” Logan starts, as Remus tosses him into the backseat. “I don’t want to go out anywhere today, if that’s okay. I’m fine going back to your place, but any sort of dinner or shopping trip isn’t something I’m currently in the mood for. I’m also still in pajamas, so I’m definitely not currently suited for anything fancy.”

“Boo!” Roman groans from the front seat, as he starts the car. “Who doesn’t want to go out on their birthday?”

“Me,” Logan insists.

Janus sets a hand affectionately on Roman’s upper arm, and playfully says “don’t worry Roman, my birthday’s coming up soon. And I love being taken out.”

Roman grins, but rolls his eyes. “Oh, I’m aware.”

“Ignore them,” Remus mutters, as he pulls Logan close to him, forgoing seatbelts in favor of cuddling. “We can stay home; honestly, that works better for me. I’ll have easy access to my cash, and since today is totally a holiday, you’ll be making time and a half!”

Before Logan can argue that time and a half is reserved solely for federal holidays, Remus is setting his hand on his lower back and pulling him into a deep kiss, with Logan easily parting his lips to let Remus messily lick into his mouth.

Then, when Remus pulls away, he nibbles on Logan’s earlobe, mumbling “you taste fruity” as he smears spit over the side of Logan’s face, though Logan doesn’t seem to mind the dribbling mess.

“Is there anything you do want to do for your birthday?” Janus then asks, twisting in the front seat to make eye contact with Logan, who has to tilt his head back thanks to being currently seated backwards on Remus’s lap. “Like watching movies, or having a little potluck?”

“Ooo! We can order pizza from that pizzeria Roman and I spotted downtown!” Remus proposes.

Logan’s stomach grumbles, despite the apple he just ate. His face flushes as Remus gives him a knowing look, and so Logan sheepishly agrees “pizza doesn’t sound too bad…” which has Roman cheering in the front seat.

“We can pick some up now,” Remus suggests, squeezing his arms around Logan’s midsection. “For an early lunch. And then we can order something just as fatty for dinner, and make sure the birthday boy is stuffed so full he might pop! Like a gut-filled piñata!”

Though Logan flushes at the comparison, Roman turns shades of green in the front seat.

“Gross, Remus,” Roman complains, as he turns towards the pizza place he and Remus had seemingly noticed some time recently. “Don’t say stuff like that right before we eat.”

“We’re not eating yet,” Remus argues, before sticking his tongue out towards the rearview mirror, which Roman childishly mimics, before adjusting the mirror in order to avoid having to look at Remus’s face. Remus snickers at the reaction, more than pleased with himself, and then goes right back to kissing over Logan’s cheeks.

Roman drives them to the food joint, and it really is a quaint space. It’s a medium-sized building sandwiched between other shops and stores, and people line the cramped sidewalk. Even though it’s the middle of the day, and it's breezy out, people still duck into cheap clothing boutiques and the small, sit-in spaces for warmth and food. Just a few paces away from the shop - which Logan sees is named “Patton’s Pizzeria” - is a quaint cafe, where people walk in shivering, and walk out cupping warm coffee.

That being said, Patton’s Pizzeria isn’t without its own customers, and as the four of them hurry inside, they see almost all of the booths are packed with people, sharing rather large, gooey, greasy pizzas between themselves. Logan’s stomach twists excitedly at the sight; sure, he’d get to eat shitty fast food from his work after a shift, but this was different. This wasn’t shitty fast food. Those massive pizza ovens in clear view of customers said these pizzas would be anything but; wood fired and specially made-to-order.

And smiling wide at the counter is a tall, fat man, with his sleeves rolled up exposing hairy arms with flour brushed over his forearms and elbows. He’s leaning on the counter, causing a golden cross necklace to dangle, and he looks both incredibly comfortable and overwhelmingly friendly. His nametag displays that he is the aptly named “Patton,” which then leads Logan to the conclusion that this must be his pizzeria.

“Howdy, kiddos,” Patton greets them, his tone somehow even warmer than the ovens burning behind him. “What can I get started for you?”

Remus and Roman glance at each other, before basically shoving Logan and Janus forward.

“I’ll eat whatever,” Remus shrugs, and he means what he says.

Roman however, is a lot more picky, and very sternly huffs towards Janus “you can get whatever, but if it’s anything with anchovies know that I will not be kissing you for the rest of the night. The last thing I need is fish on my breath.”

“Who says me and my fish breath would want to kiss you anyway?” Janus sticks his tongue out at Roman, who feigns betrayal at the comment.

Logan just looks towards Remus. “Does that mean we’re ordering two pizzas, then?”

“Order as many as you want,” Remus encourages. “Whatever you don’t eat for lunch you guys can just take home as leftovers and gorge yourself on whenever you feel like it.” Stretching his arms around Logan’s figure, Remus shamelessly grabs and squeezes at Logan’s stomach through his shirt. “God knows you could stand to overeat and gain a few pounds…”

Logan flushes, and pushes Remus’s hands away.

“I’d just like a cheese pizza, with spinach on it,” Logan asks, having to look away from Patton’s kind gaze solely out of embarrassment.

“What size would you prefer?”

Remus cuts in before Logan can speak up. “As big as they get, baby,” he whoops, before nudging Janus. “For both pizzas!”

Patton chuckles. “That sounds good to me! So one cheese and spinach; what about for the other pie?”

“Meat lover’s,” Janus requests, which has Roman looking incredibly excited.

“A pizza named after you,” Remus then teases, which has Janus promptly flipping him off.

“One cheese and spinach, one meat lover’s.” Patton rings the order into his register. “Both as big as they get. That’ll be sixteen dollars even!”

“No tax?” Logan inquires.

Patton winks at him. “Tax is included, but everything’s rounded to quarter increments. It’s a mess attempting to count pennies and dimes at the end of the night, but quarters are simple.”

“I’m more impressed at the total being under twenty,” Janus says, raising an eyebrow. “Just sixteen dollars? Even for a full meat pizza?”

“My focus is more on making good pies than making crazy money. I’d rather fill other people's stomachs than my own wallet. Admittedly, I don’t need much profit to be comfortable in my current lifestyle anyway… I just like to cook!” As Remus and Roman push and shove each other, arguing over who gets to pay, Patton leans forward on the counter and lowers his voice just loud enough for only Janus and Logan to hear. “Feel free to watch,” he says, sounding almost cheery to be inviting their eyes to his ovens, “getting to see the dough golden and the cheese bubble is my favourite part of making pizza… and the smell… there’s practically a guarantee y'all will be drooling.”

“Take my money!” Remus shouts, as he basically shoves himself between Janus and Logan, throwing his card at Patton. It smacks Patton rather comedically in the face, and then slides down and onto the counter. Though Logan cringes at the situation, Patton seems to take it well, and ends up bursting out in laughter.

As Roman pouts and stomps his feet, Patton uses Remus’s card to pay for the pizzas, and then hands it back a lot more gracefully than it was handed to him.

“Feel free to take a seat while your pizza’s bakin’,” Patton insists, and nods towards an empty booth. “But if sittin’ isn’t your thing, then you’re welcome to crowd around the counter and watch the pies bake. I just have to prep them in the back really quick, and then they’ll slide right into the oven.”

Patton then heads into the door behind the counter, where the dough and ingredients no doubt lay. Janus takes Patton up on his offer and slides into a booth, stretching out nice and comfortably in the seats. Roman settles next to him. Logan meanwhile lingers by the counter, curious to see the pizzas be properly fired in the large brick ovens.

Remus whistles. “I’m so fucking pumped for this,” he exclaims, looking hungrily towards the fresh pizzas being passed between families. “Not only does this shit look delicious, but it’s always been a fantasy of mine to watch gooey cheese drip down onto a hot guy’s tits. And luckily, today I have the hottest guy with me!”

Logan snorts. “You want me to eat pizza while shirtless?”

“I wouldn’t complain if you did…” Remus rubs his face against Logan’s, invading his personal space with little restraint. “But I suppose it’s your birthday, so if you’d prefer to stay clean and put-together in your cute little jammies then that’s fine too.”

“Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

Remus cheers. “Thinking about it is a solid step forward!”

Patton comes back out shortly later with two rather massive pizza peels, with each pizza formerly requested sat atop them. Logan’s cheese and spinach is slid into the first oven, with Patton poking at the burning wood shortly after, before doing the same to Janus’s pizza.

With Remus’s arm looped around his waist, Logan watches his own pizza begin to bake, with Patton flipping between tending to the fires, checking the pizzas, and prepping the ingredients in the back. At some point, Patton brings out two large, unfolded boxes that he sets on the counter, that have the pizzeria’s name on the front and creases to indicate where it’ll need to be bent, but Patton doesn’t move to craft them just yet.

Instead, as another family comes in, Patton greets them happily, and Remus and Logan move off to the side. They don’t have a great angle on their pizzas anymore, but it’s more than fine just… standing, and being slowly rocked back and forth by Remus who’s humming rather noisily behind him.

Then, Patton uses the pizza peel to pull Logan’s pizza out. He slides it off the peel and rather skillfully onto the cardboard, which he then folds around the pizza, creating a perfectly folded box. He hands it to Remus, and then repeats the process with Janus’s pizza, which he sets atop the former box in Remus’s hands.

“There y’all go!” Patton says, wiping his hands together happily, with flour seemingly puffing around his palms with each brush of his fingers. “Have a good day now, you hear? And God bless you.”

Logan gives a polite wave as he heads out the door, while Remus shouts a nasally “thanks!” and Roman gives a more overbearing expression of gratitude. They load back into the car, with the pizzas being instantaneously plopped onto Logan’s lap the moment he buckles himself in.

“Feel free to indulge a bit on the drive,” Remus encourages, with a playful snicker. “It’s not like this is my car, after all.”

Roman glares in Logan’s direction through the rearview. “You better not make a mess. And you-” Roman snaps the rearview to the side, in Remus’s direction “-need to stop being such a bad influence. Logan’s good, and you’re going to lead him down a path of apathy and insensitivity.”

“I could never,” Remus huffs, “because then I’d have to call him Janus.”

“You prick,” Janus immediately hisses, turning around in his seat. “And I was going to stay out of this!”

Logan barely finds himself reacting to their bickering, as he’s easily able to recognize it as playful banter. His fingers tap against the side of his boxes as he genuinely chooses to stay out of their back-and-forths, and instead takes in a deep breath, filling his nose with the rather delicious smell of cheese, dough, and meat. He would actually consider digging into his pizza here and now if it wasn’t unfortunately buried beneath Janus’s box.

The drive back to the twins’ mansion has Logan’s stomach continuously gurgling, sometimes loud enough that Remus laughs at him, and reaches over to poke and squeeze Logan’s gut and assure him they’ll fill it soon. By the time they pull into the driveway, Logan’s basically salivating.

Roman generously takes the pizzas from him once they’re parked, while Remus yanks Logan out of the car, and the four of them basically rush inside as hunger swells inside of each of their bodies.

However, as Roman and Janus make a beeline for the living room, Remus quickly snatches his pizza and pulls Logan away.

“Hey!” Roman immediately shouts, before Remus and Logan can sneak off to Remus’s room. “I thought we were supposed to be spending Logan’s birthday as one big group?!”

“Just because we’re related doesn’t mean I have to share everything with you.” Remus blows a raspberry in Roman’s direction. “You wished him a happy birthday already, didn’t you? Do you want to give him a bit of birthday sex too?”

Roman flushes, and then smiles cheesily. “Well. If you’re offering…”

“Watch it,” Janus playfully snits, kicking Roman’s shin while they sit. Roman laughs after, and cuddles up to Janus to kiss and praise him, while Janus ignores his affection in favor of flipping open his box of lunch. Once they’re both preoccupied, Remus proceeds to actually guide Logan away this time, with his hand firmly wrapped around Logan’s wrist.

Once in Remus’s room, the pizza is haphazardly tossed onto the bed, with Logan being lifted and tossed with it. Though Remus throws him carefully, he’s at least mindful enough to not send Logan crashing into the steaming box.

“Go on and dig in, bitch,” Remus sings, as he basically tears his shirt off his body. The action isn’t inherently sexual - Remus seems like he genuinely just wants to writhe his way out of his clothes - but Logan still finds himself flushing anyway. “Eat as much as you want. Then eat a little more. The more you weigh, the fatter your ass will get.”

“So you’ve said.”

“And I’ll keep saying until you finally break my nose by sitting on my face.” Remus slides onto the bed, now only in boxers, and hugs onto Logan’s side. “That’s every man’s dream, you know.”

Logan opens up the pizza box and is immediately hit with a wave of warmth rushing over him, with smoke billowing from the pizza and casting a cheesy-smelling haze to rather quickly fill Remus’s room. While Logan carefully pulls a slice away from the circle - gooey cheese connecting and stretching the distance - Remus is a lot more careless, and basically rips a slice away from the greater whole, with cheese and grease flinging onto his body. Not that he cares one bit.

He digs straight into his food, scarfing down his entire piece in a matter of seconds, meanwhile Logan moves a lot slower.

His first bite is small, but it is flavorful. Somehow, just cheese and spinach came together in a rather delicious mixture that has Logan almost preferring it over the expensive hibachi! Guess you really can’t beat the baked-with-love mentality, because Logan can assume Patton pours a ton of love into what he cooks.

“It’s… really good,” Logan says, as he takes another bite, a lot larger this time. “Not the healthiest brunch, but I had an apple this morning, so it cancels out for the most part.”

“Speak for yourself,” Remus replies, as he licks the cheese from his fingers. “I haven’t had spinach since I was like… three. And you’re out here putting it on pizza! That’s healthy enough for me!”

Logan finishes up his first slice, and reaches for a second, much to Remus’s delight.

“You should take your shirt off while you eat,” Remus then suggests, “for no particular reason…”

Logan narrows his eyes playfully. “Oh, please. As if you weren’t chatting earlier about wanting to see me make a mess with the pizza. I think you’ve made enough of a mess for the both of us.”

“There’s no such thing as ‘enough mess.’” Remus thumbs some cheese off his hairy chest and shamelessly sticks his thumb into his mouth. “Besides, that’s not even why I wanted to see you stripped. I want to admire your body. It’s your birthday, after all, you should let me compliment every little part of you.”

Sighing, Logan pretends to consider Remus’s words, before he sets his pizza back in the box and pulls his shirt over his head. Remus is squealing immediately, and wiping his hands off on his sheets in order to grab Logan with his now-greaseless palms.

“Holy fuck!” he exclaims, as his hands grab Logan’s hips. “Look! You’re developing a little muffin top! That’s so fucking hot.”

Indeed, as Logan looks down he can see his stomach has started to swell in size. He’s still thin, but he doesn’t look like he’s starving anymore. And in fact, because of his clothes all being smaller sizes to accommodate for his one-meal-a-week strategy, he’s very quickly outgrowing his wardrobe.

“My body is putting on weight rather fast,” Logan then says, as Remus squeezes and gropes his growing pudge. “My guess as to why is because of… how little I’ve been eating previously. The human body is rather fond of routines, and so when you go from barely eating anything to suddenly eating a surplus, it will remember that period of time you were scrounging around. And so, it thinks it needs to reserve that extra weight for the next instance you’ll be without food. Of course… I’m pretty set on food for a while.”

“Which means you’ll put on more weight as you continue eating normally,” Remus drools. “Isn’t food fucking amazing? Tastes good, and makes you hot as fuck.”

Remus��s hands slide down Logan’s stomach as he eats, and then hooks it in his waistband.

“You should take your pants off for me next,” Remus encourages, as Logan finishes his second piece of pizza.

Logan glances at him, and then holds his visibly messy hands out towards Remus. “You can just tell me you’d like me to get naked. Can you please grab me a napkin?”

Remus grabs Logan’s wrists, and pulls them to his face. Logan can really just stare as Remus begins lewdly sucking the pizza residue from his fingers, cleaning them of cheese and grease, and moaning dramatically all the while.

“Yeah, that’s hot, ain’t in?” Remus asks, voice muffled around Logan’s fingers. “Imagine me doing this around your cheese-covered tits instead.”

Logan snorts, and pulls his hands away once they’ve been sucked clean. “I don’t think that’ll look as appealing as you think it will.”

“Hey, you’ll never know ‘till you see it.”

Wiggling his eyebrows, Remus pulls the box of pizza away from Logan under the guise they’re both done with it for right now, and closes the box up before tossing it to the ground. It thuds, and then slides backwards a bit, where Remus leaves it as he heads to his closet.

Logan, curious, scoots to the edge of the bed. “What are you grabbing?”

“Rope.”

“Rope?”

Remus turns to smile at him. “For birthday sex. Duh.”

Logan flushes, but still watches with intrigue as Remus pulls out some rather basic looking rope. There’s some loose fibers and coarse material that makes Logan preemptively rub his wrists whilst imagining the lacerations such material will cause, only for Remus to utterly surprise him by handing him the item.

He stares at it for a moment, before looking up at Remus, blinking a few times in surprise. “What am I supposed to do with this?” he asks. “Are you just letting me feel it?”

“No,” Remus snickers, rolling his eyes. He crawls onto bed, and flops over onto his back. He makes a big show of stretching out and getting comfortable, before rather attractively positioning his arms above his head. His wrists thud against his barred headboard. “You’re going to tie me up. And you get to use me. That’s my gift to you, since you didn’t give me enough time to get you a real one.” Remus sighs in faux disappointment, murmuring “think of the silicone mold of my dick that I could have wrapped up for you…”

“I don’t know how to tie you up,” Logan bluntly declares. He fidgets with the rope in his hands. “I’ve never done it before.”

“All you have to do is tie it the same way you’d tie a normal knot. And if you can’t untie it, then you can always cut me free after.”

“Just… just like a knot?”

Remus nods his head excitedly. “Yes. Tight, binding, restrictive… Just a nice big knot!

“And then what?”

“Then, you rip off my boxers like the sexual temptress you are and do whatever! Bite me, scratch me… Hell, you can even cut my dick off! I’m into it all!”

Logan frowns, though he moves to straddle Remus’s chest in order to reach his wrists. “I’m not going to cut any part of you off. I’d rather not have to take a trip to the hospital because you’re dying of blood loss… Even if you somehow manage to get off, despite the pain, I doubt you could rationalize a boner being more important than your life.”

“Aww, you care about me.”

That bit of teasing has Logan smiling, though he merely responds “I wouldn’t be too fond of anyone dying,” as his fingertips gently caress Remus’s wrists, which is a feeling immediately contrasted by the rough rope Logan loops around the headboard and around Remus’s hands. With a tuck, and a slip, and two tight pulls, Logan’s tied a rather average knot, but it works for Remus, who is immediately grinning and moving his wrists as wildly as he can.

“Fuck yeah,” Remus grunts, as Logan watches him purposefully irritate and scratch his skin with the material. “This is gonna be so hot.”

But Logan just slides awkwardly down Remus’s chest once Remus is tied, until he’s straddling Remus’s hips.

“What… What should I do now?” he asks, after a moment of silence, which has Remus immediately bursting out into laughter.

“Anything you want!” Remus insists in response. “Like, seriously, anything. Obviously the intention is sex, so you can shuffle my boxers off and suck my cock, ride it, bite it, cut it off…”

“Remus.”

Remus dramatically huffs. “Okay. No cutting. But anything else is on the table. Or, you can forget my dick entirely. You can come use my mouth, my face, or even other parts of my body, for your pleasure! Honestly, Logan, you can even completely neglect me if you wanted to, though don’t blame me if I complain about having a hot guy in my room and not even garnering his attention. It’s your birthday, and so I wanted to give you complete control. It’s the least I can do, since I only found out it was the best day ever like… an hour ago.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I didn’t tell you it was my birthday. You don’t have to keep reiterating that.”

Remus sticks his tongue out, but then rolls his hips upwards, against Logan’s ass. He groans, and Logan flushes, but instinctively rolls his hips back.

“You’re in control,” Remus reminds him, as he tugs on the rope to remind Logan of his restrictive position. “You choose what we do.”

Logan isn’t used to that. Sure, he can tell Remus to stop at any point when they have sex normally, but typically Remus comes up with their sexual encounters. He picks the toys, the situation, picks when to start sex and when to stop it. And he talks Logan through it all. Is… is he expecting Logan to do all of that? He hasn’t had any practice!

“Do you have a safeword?” Logan asks, all of a sudden.

Staring at Logan with utter surprise, Remus can’t help but laugh again. “I mean, I guess? Red. Just like yours. The stoplight system, remember?”

“I remember. And you’ll use it?”

Remus attempts to shrug best he can with his hands restrained. “I will if I need to, but probably not. Logan, trust me, nothing you could do right now could potentially make me feel in any way uncomfortable.”

Hesitating, Logan thinks for a moment, before swallowing down his inexperience-related nerves. “Okay.”

“Is this okay?”

It’s Logan’s turn to be caught off guard. “Yeah,” he says, immediately, before giving Remus a polite smile. “And I appreciate the gesture. It’s very considerate of you to give up control for a day for my benefit… I’m just experiencing… first-time related nerves?” Logan feels silly admitting it, and so one of his hands comes to his face in an attempt to shield himself from Remus’s intense eyes. “It’s almost like I’m sleeping with you for the first time all over again; it’s that big of a change-up for me.”

“You’ll be okay,” Remus assures him, before spreading his legs wide open. “There’s no ‘wrong choice,’ if that eases your nerves at all. You’ll look hot doing anything.”

Looking presentable is not what Logan’s worried about in the slightest, but Remus seems pretty confident in all of this, and so Logan can’t help but feel confident too. He pulls Remus’s boxers down, and throws them to the side, before shuffling out of his own pants and underwear. Remus drools at the sight of his thighs, and even dramatically wolf-whistles at the purple stretch marks that have begun to decorate his hips. There weren’t any when he first met Remus, and now he has a small collection on either side.

“Fuck yeah,” Remus groans, as Logan sits on his thighs and pushes his cock against Remus’s. It’s a shy action, one that Logan clearly does out of impulse and curiosity, and then he’s sitting up fully.

“Where do you keep your-”

“Lube?” Remus interrupts, wiggling his eyebrows. “There’s some everywhere, honestly. My closet, under my bed, in one of my pillowcases… but you can just grab the bottle from my nightstand.”

Logan does, and pours some onto his hand, and then hesitates. He probably doesn’t need to be stretched… and honestly, right now he isn’t sure he wants to waste the time doing so. Not when Remus is already hard, and Logan - witnessing Remus’s sheer excitement firsthand - is being rapidly turned on by Remus’s eagerness. And so, he wraps his palm around Remus’s shaft instead, and strokes it slowly, coating his length in the lube.

Remus groans immediately, vocal as ever. “Hell yeah, baby,” he moans, his head falling back against the pillows. “Going straight for the sex, huh? Should’ve known. You love my cock inside of you.”

Logan flushes, and his thighs squeeze around Remus’s legs. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“Fuck no. It’s so fucking hot.”

Logan works his hand slowly up and down Remus’s cock, working the lube into his skin until he’s satisfied that it’ll slip in easily. Then, he wipes his hand on Remus’s sheets and moves to straddle Remus’s cock on his own.

He keeps a hand around the base of Remus's shaft, holding it as straight as he can as he awkwardly lifts himself up onto his legs. He feels silly crouching over Remus like this, but Remus’s eyes are flicking excitedly over his body, and that helps him continue pushing onward.

Out of instinct, Logan’s eyes glance towards Remus’s hands, almost confused why they haven’t landed on his hips yet. He sees Remus’s fingers twitch in obvious want, but Remus represses expressing his own desires for Logan’s behalf. Though Logan can see he’s clearly unused to keeping himself from doing what he wants, he’s trying, and the fact that Remus is trying is almost arousing in of itself.

Remus’s cock slides between his ass, and then he’s easing the tip of Remus’s shaft inside of him.

“Fuck,” Remus curses, as though expletives are all he can think of. “God, fuck. It almost feels like it’s my birthday with just how sexy you are.”

“Remus,” Logan shivers, as he lowers his hips. He’s steady, but almost teasingly slow in his movements, as he pauses quite often to balance himself. Until finally, he’s sunk down fully, and his ass is flush against Remus’s hips. His hands rest against Remus’s abdomen, which he leans onto for support. “Remus… I…”

Remus is barely listening. His own face is twisted with anticipatory pleasure. Logan swallows the spit in his mouth as he already feels sweat beginning to form on his face.

“Now I just… ride you?”

Remus bucks his hips upwards, but does it only once, as if he truly couldn’t help himself. “Do whatever you please. You can just sit there if you want; some people love being cocksleeves… or you can bounce, or you can rob me and leave.” Remus winks. “I have no preference.”

Nodding, Logan raises his hips, and then pushes them back down, with both him and Remus moaning in unison. Though the action is brief, it makes them both feel insanely good, and so after a few seconds Logan lifts his bottom in order to repeat it.

As he lets out a quivering breath, Logan keeps his hands set against Remus’s torso, though his palms slide upwards to Remus’s chest, basically groping Remus’s small pecs and pressing his fingers into Remus’s rigid rib cage. Again, he lets out a whimper of Remus’s name as Remus’s cock pushes into him over and over with each push up from his thighs and each descent of his ass. He’s started to tremble, despite the fact they’ve barely started.

Briefly, Logan wonders if he should be doing more.

Don’t get him wrong, this doesn’t feel bad. It feels good, just… different.

Whining slightly, Logan finds himself craving Remus’s instructions. His degradation. His rules, his commands, his physical guidance…

His eyes settle themselves back on Remus’s hands, which are clenched into tight, pleasured fists.

“Tell me to speed up,” Logan eventually croaks, as he shakily sinks back down onto Remus’s cock. His words have Remus looking a bit startled, and raising his head to stare at Logan curiously. “Or slow down. Or… or something. Tell me to do something.”

“This is supposed to be about what you want,” Remus grunts, as Logan’s hips settle firmly down, though after this they don’t raise again.

Desperate, Logan’s nails unintentionally sink into Remus’s skin. With sweat rolling down his flushed face, Logan pleads “I want you to tell me what to do. I like feeling controlled. I like having instructions to follow. I know what I’m doing, somewhat, but I want to listen and do whatever you tell me.” One of Logan’s hands pulls away from Remus’s front, and slides down to his own cock as he speaks. He strokes it shyly. “Just… give me instructions. Order me around. Please. It’s what I want.”

Remus lets out a breath, before he bites his lip and throws his head back, exclaiming “fuck you’re so hot!”

Logan feels his blush extend far past his face and spread over his chest, his entire body burning with need. And though Remus doesn’t ask to be untied, he does immediately settle into his role as the dominant one, thrusting his hips up into Logan who lets out a pathetic noise at Remus’s cock shifting inside of him.

“Lift your hips, you beautiful slut,” Remus demands, and Logan does. “Now, you’re going to drop them to match my thrusts, okay? You’re smart enough to do that, aren’t you? My good, smart whore.”

Logan nods, and watches as Remus’s pelvis lifts. On cue, he drops his own hips down, and thus Remus’s cock is thrusted roughly inside of him, immediately causing Logan to throw his head back with a moan. It just feels so much better.

“Yeah, that feels good, doesn’t it?” Remus coos. “Now do it again. Come on, bitch, I know you’re desperate.”

Logan whines out “praise,” as he pushes himself up again, and Remus adjusts his words almost immediately.

“I can feel you clench around my cock, baby, and fuck it feels so good. You say you’re-” Remus groans, and has to suck in a breath through his gritted teeth, letting Logan hear just how good he feels, before continuing “you say you’re inexperienced, but then you just… you just… fuck you just act so fucking attractive and it’s so crazy. You drive me so fucking crazy, baby, you have no fucking idea.”

Logan slams his hips down on Remus’s cock as Remus pushes his shaft upwards, ramming rhythmically into Logan whose cock is leaking shamelessly all over Remus’s front. Not once does Logan pull his own hand away from his length, stroking it needily as he bounces. Though, he does squeeze it firmly at one particularly deep thrust from Remus, which hits right against his prostate.

Crying out at the pleasure, Logan’s hips fall at once, and sweat drips from his face onto Remus’s body. His body trembles, and he can barely keep himself upright.

“God,” Remus grunts, as Logan rolls his hips down against Remus’s pelvis. “You’re so fucking pretty. I’ve never seen an orgasm face as attractive as yours, did you know that? None of my other fucks have made such hot noises, or made such pretty faces.”

Logan’s body shakes as he fucks himself down on Remus’s cock again.

“Keep going, doll. You’re doing so, so good. You look so good. If I could touch you, I’d be all over you.”

Obedient as ever, Logan does what he’s told and does it to the best of his ability, desperate not only to pleasure himself, but to please Remus as well. Until Remus groans out “come kiss me,” and Logan rushes to do just that, as if he’d been hoping Remus would tell him to the whole time.

Pressing their chests together, Logan rather sloppily presses his lips to Remus’s. His eyes are shut, and his glasses practically slide off his face in his rush, but he doesn’t mind. Spit transfers between their lips and dribbles out of it, but neither of them mind. They’re both needy. And as Logan works his cock quickly, he knows that at least he’s close.

“Remus,” Logan begs, against Remus’s lips, but Remus just bites at Logan’s lip with his teeth.

“Keep bouncing, my good puppy,” Remus instructs, before kissing Logan again. “Keep going until I come inside of you.”

Logan’s finding himself winded at the constant workout of guiding his body up and down, and up, and down, but Remus raising his hips to meet him is wonderful, and Logan finds that he can ignore the burning in his thighs in favor of the warmth flooding his abdomen.

“Please,” Logan whines, his voice muffled against Remus’s mouth.

Remus groans. “Everything about you is so fucking sexy. Your voice is sexy, your body is sexy, hell, even the fact you taste like cheese right now is sexy!”

Logan lets out a breathy laugh at Remus’s words, but his amusement is stifled by Remus raising his head to kiss him, straining his neck in order to keep their faces together. Their lips together. Their bodies together.

Both of them are noisy, and neither of them bother stifling their pleasured groans as their bodies rub and slide together. Logan’s cock leaks a mess onto Remus’s stomach, and Logan knows Remus is leaking inside of him, but he edges himself constantly - slowing his hand and straining himself - as Remus wants him to. Because he wants to do as Remus says.

“Fuck,” Remus curses, followed by profanity after profanity.

“Are you close?” Logan whines, and Remus huffs out a laugh.

“Yeah. I’m so close. You’ve gotten me so close.” Logan clenches around Remus’s cock at the words, and Remus moans again, and then keeps up his babbling. “You feel so good, Logan, and you look so good. You taste so good. You listen so good.”

“So well,” Logan murmurs to correct him, and kisses Remus of his own volition. Remus laughs again, but only briefly, as he kisses Logan back.

He does most of the work from that point, jerking and thrusting his hips best he can with Logan only weakly rising and falling as his body burns and gives out on him, but Remus doesn’t seem to mind. He keeps up his thrusts until his noises increase in volume, and then comes without warning, though Logan could tell it was coming.

Remus’s semen spurting inside of him only adds to Logan’s ecstasy, and he’s right back to pleading for his own orgasm as Remus shamelessly indulges in his.

Remus grunts. “I told you, you can come when I do,” he reminds Logan.

Logan whimpers. “Tell me to.”

“Hm?”

Feeling Remus’s orgasm squelch and slide out of him, making a mess of his thighs, Logan repeats “tell me to. Please, order me to come.”

“Fuck. Come for me, Logan, you know I want to see it. I want to see your face contort in pleasure. I want to see your body shake with ecstasy. Come.”

And Logan does. With Remus thrusting weakly inside of him as he rides out his own pleasure, Logan comes to his prostate being stimulated, his cock stroked pathetically, and Remus’s words making him feel so good. Remus is doing everything perfectly and it makes Logan feel orgasmic.

The build up of his overwhelming arousal spills in streams over Remus’s chest, streaks of white dresses Remus’s stomach and chest, much to Remus’s own visible excitement. Though, instead of his eyes being focused on Logan’s cock, they’re instead trained to Logan’s face.

Logan’s head is lulled to the side as he cries out in relief, eyes screwed shut and brows creased. Sweat rolls down his forehead, over his nose, conforming to the curves of his round cheeks and falling from his chin and onto Remus’s body. His mouth is slightly ajar, and drool drips from it. And that flush that decorates Logan’s countenance, a beautiful reddish-pink that stands out vividly against his pale skin. Remus utters another curse out of sheer awe, and hearing such makes Logan tuck his face into his shoulder out of embarrassment.

Then, he lifts himself a final time, letting Remus’s cock slip out of him with a wet pop, and then falls to the bed, letting himself unprofessionally flop against the sheets.

He pants audibly, but only has time to rest for a few minutes before Remus is clearing his throat and going “so… do you intend to just keep me tied up all night? Not that I’m complaining or anything, but I figured the least I can do tonight is actually make you a proper birthday dinner.”

Logan raises his head slightly, and adjusts his glasses, embarrassed he didn’t remember Remus’s ropes.

He scoots closer to the headboard in order to undo the knot, and then afterwards holds Remus’s red, raw wrists, brushing over the deep lacerations with his gentle thumbs.

“Do you need ointment?” Logan asks, voice quiet.

“Nah, I like the pain.”

Logan frowns. “Correction. Do you have ointment? I insist on putting some on you; the rope clearly broke skin in a few places.”

Peering at the marks, there are very small beads of blood spread across Remus’s wrists. It’s not incredibly concerning, but Logan would rather be safe than sorry. Remus laughs at his consideration, but just answers “yeah, I do. In the bathroom. I’ll grab it whenever I decide it’s time to cook you… well… what’s your favourite food?”

“Just make whatever you please.”

“Oh, come on!” Remus groans. “No favourite candy and no favourite food? Are you sure you’re not some kind of robot?”

“Unless you burn it, then I’ll eat whatever. I’m not picky.”

Rolling his eyes, Remus asks “what about a cake. Surely you must have some preference there?”

That question has Logan biting his lip, and then nodding.

“You do!” Remus exclaims, grabbing Logan and rolling around with him on the bed, smearing their messes around and entangling them further in the blankets. “What is it? Whatever it is, I swear I can make something at least distantly resemblant.”

Logan snickers. “It’s… it’s vanilla cake, with vanilla buttercream, cut layers of fresh Loganberry jam.”

“Yum!” Remus presses a bunch of ticklish kisses to Logan’s neck. “I’m sure I can whip up something similar. Though, don’t be surprised if there’s a little something extra in the frosting…” Remus wiggles his eyebrows, and Logan laughs as he pushes Remus away with a short utterance of “gross” at his joking implications. Even so… Logan has to admit, a cake sounds nice. He hasn’t had a cake made for his birthday since he was a child. And he knows Remus is serious about making one, as he sees Remus open up his phone to text Roman about “needing him to urgently run to the store” and “grab all of these for the sexiest birthday cake ever.”

Then, he throws his phone to the side and snuggles back to Logan.

“Whenever I hear your stomach grumble again, I’ll get us up to make something,” Remus insists, though his hairy face is currently nuzzling against Logan’s pudgy front. “Maybe something fatty… like extra cheesy potatoes. And I’ll sprinkle some spinach on top, so you can still get your veggies in.”

Logan smiles, but doesn’t respond, as he lets himself rest in Remus’s hold. Though he just ate, dinner doesn’t sound too bad. And neither does dessert.

“Happy birthday,” Remus says, again, though this time it’s a softer utterance. Something more intimate than the other playful or loud times he’s said such previously. “Don’t keep important days like this from me next time.”

And that statement has Logan thinking. He wouldn’t share his birthday with a normal employer, but Remus wasn’t a normal employer. He’d share his birthday with Janus (if Janus had asked), but that’s because Janus is a friend. Remus is some sort of middle ground between both. Too close to be an employer, but their relationship is so odd Logan’s not sure if he’d call Remus a friend.

Thinking about it too hard makes his face fall, and so he momentarily pushes this labeling dilemma to the backburner. For now, he keeps his thoughts directed towards dinner, and cake. And he has the brief, conclusive thought that this was, overall, a good birthday.

#sanders sides #not safe for sanders #sanders sides smut #sanders sides fic #agp fic #intrulogical #intrulogical fic #intrulogical smut #intrulogical nsfs #logan nsfs #remus nsfs #what you need #intrulogical sugar daddy au

17 notes · View notes

magickalsapphic · 11 months ago

Text

We were both young (when I first saw you)

A Victorian Romeo and Juliet Snowbaz AU ❀ Chapter 1 Posted (2351 words) ❀ horseback riding, farmerboy!Simon, aristocrat!Baz, Davy sucks, gay people 🙏 ❀ pls read it & rb, i will post the other chapters asap fr

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59023879

It was already unfortunate for Lord Basilton to find out his most agreeable suitor was being accompanied by his family rival's long lost heir. But realizing Lord Simon Snow Salisbury is the same boy he's obsessed over for years is something he could've never have anticipated. aka a Victorian Romeo and Juliet Snowbaz AU inspired by Love Story by Taylor Swift. Where neither the Victorian era, the Romeo and Juliet references OR the Love Story references are accurate. Hope you enjoy:)

Chapter 1: Horseshit and Ball

BAZ

“Baz, Baz, Baz,...” I hear a small, high-pitched voice behind my door exclaim. I’m not ready for this day to start, but it doesn’t seem to want to wait any longer. I stretch my arms above my bed frame and then move the silk bed sheets aside. The sun comes in harder through the large window and makes me doubt the true nature of this fateful day. I walk to my door barefoot knowing my seven-year-old sister is on the other side.

“Mordelia, I’ve told you you don’t need to yell, you can just knock.”

She opens the heavy door in a swift motion and starts visibly judging my surroundings as usual. It is the second largest room in the house, with long carpentry to match the burgundy walls and enough space to walk to the balcony. Mordelia always complains that the art easels cover the fountain’s view from outside and are uninviting to visitors. She stops at my tulips work in progress and I immediately know what she thinks.

“You should draw horsies instead of the same dull plants all the bloody time.”

“I’ll have you informed I enjoy painting this just fine,” I say while quickly picking up a small pillow from the floor and throwing it at her. She catches it, which is embarrassing, to say the least.

“Whatever. Father asked me to remind you of your extra duties today,” she says, referring to the activities he’s specifically made to keep me from running off today. “So thank you for… feeding the horses,” she says with a smirk.

“I’m not cleaning your horses’ shit, Mordelia.”

“You said it, not me.”

She leaves my room as my aunt Fiona enters, messing her hair as she walks past her. I try to ignore her presence by picking up the pillow I threw on the floor.

“Quit being rude, boy. I’m here with good news about tonight,” Fiona says.

I turn to her confused but she’s still resting her back on the door and crossing her arms.

“I’m helpless. What could you possibly have to say?”

“Well, a little bird told me you have a special girl coming to the ball tonight,”

I give her a look. I can’t possibly care who she’s referring to, I’m still not going to be attracted to her. It’s the same thing.

“Talking about Lady Agatha Wellbelove, of course.”

“And why ever is she so special?” I say turning my back on her again.

“Because she’s a nice girl. And extremely wealthy.”

“ We are extremely wealthy,” I say as if it wasn’t evident.

“Her father owns the West Watford slot.” Now this gets my attention. The Old families have been in a silent property rivalry for ages.

It started over a three hundred years ago when the Salisbury’s came from the north and bought two-thirds of the Watford main fields. This ended up messing with the entire economy and social status on my family’s, the Pitches, side, which used to be the richest in the area. My ancestors tried to settle this by dividing the terrains more and not letting one family get more than the other. I don’t know who had such high hopes that rich old men would settle something logically. Instead, the Pitches tried to buy the land from them and get them a nice place out of town. To which the Salisbury’s declined, and tried to buy the last free slot. Aware of the fighting of the two most powerful families in the city, the mayor decided it was for the best that the lot stayed part of the State, meaning that both the Pitches and the Salisbury’s kept owning about the same amount of terrain.

So, of course, over the years and different generations, we’ve kept this rivalry between us and have tried over and over to get the most land. Even though everyday workers and families living in them care just the same.

Agatha Wellbelove’s father, however, comes from a more nobel family, that has historically taken a bigger part in politics, which I assume explain their possession of the infamous West Watford slot.

“You’re saying that if I marry her, we would finally, officially be the most powerful family in this town.”

“Bingo. Your father won’t ask anything of you again. Pretty confident he wouldn’t even ask for heirs.”

No children. I don’t mind children that much but this does mean I wouldn’t have to have any means of an actual relationship with her. I guess… if I offer some kind of yearly sum and a lot of horses, Wellbelove is known to be fond of those, maybe we could make that work. It’s the least painful option. For me at least.

“That does sound appealing… Why are you telling me this?” Her eyes soften and she approaches me slowly, bringing her palm to my cheek.

“I couldn’t watch you walk into complete unhappiness and not do anything kiddo. Not what Natasha would’ve wanted.”

———

I realised I didn’t possess an attraction to girls and instead to boys when I was 13 years old. Though, from a young age I never thought I was like the other boys around me, always so heavily… unhygienic, and interested in the most atrocious activities. Like wrestling or getting into unnecessary trouble. I enjoyed picking out flowers with my mother. The best ones surrounded our pond, she used to say, we were lucky to have this astounding beauty all around us. This wasn’t the only activity I enjoyed with her, though. She encouraged me to devour all the books in our library by accompanying me and explaining concepts I didn’t understand or simply talking about them with me.

My father has been too busy with taking care of the farmlands and ordering people around ever since I remember. My mother would take care of financial issues with him, she would say, but when I came about… She stopped caring about the money. She stopped caring about anything other than me. And I think–I know–my father resents me for that. I was “too needy” and “too emotional”, but it was never a problem for her. She stayed with me through everything. She was my best friend. I don’t regret a thing. The best memories I have are until the age of 12 for a reason.

I don’t remember much from her funeral. I spent a lot of time to myself then and the months after. My father let me be and I let him be as well. I rarely even spoke to my cousin Dev or my friend Niall, even though they tried plenty of times. After a while, I started to go out with them but didn’t speak unless it was essential.

However, on the first anniversary of her death, I was vocal once again. Father wanted us to not make it a big deal but agreed we would go and leave her flowers. All I wanted was to give her her favourite flowers, lilies. We were already in my mother’s old home in Surrey, and when my father stepped out of the carriage, our servant handed him a bouquet of daisies. My father knew it had to be lilies and I didn’t care to hear why he couldn’t manage them this time. There was no excuse for this and I told him so. I didn’t set a foot in the door, instead ran past the servants, past the carriages, past the gates. Unknown destination. I just needed the flowers. I didn’t have any money with me so I went past the village as well. I didn’t want to be so far away from her, but I didn’t want to be near anyone. Anything.

All I could hear was quick cobblestone. Then grass and grass. I finally stepped into a beautiful field, where soft orange tinted primroses, foxgloves, red tulips, wheat and corn, a dozen goats, and… this boy.

We were both young when I first saw you

I close my eyes and the flashback starts

He was kneeling down beside a bush, picking up orchids. He had a cloud of bronze hair, blue eyes, and a frustrated look on his face. I might’ve stared a bit too long, as he said without looking away from his work, “Are you lost?”

When I didn’t reply he looked up and his eyes softened. “Are you okay?”, he asked. He must have noticed my puffy eyes.

“My… my mother loved lilies,” is all I managed before he went around the field and left me standing there.

He came back a few moments later with a handful of them, even set in a beautiful way and tied in the middle with a small red bow. The sun was setting and his hair was catching fire. His eyes, his freckles. I barely mumbled a thank you before he was back at his work and I was on my way back to my mother. I didn’t bother finding my father and went straight to her grave. I gasped as I saw the tearful eyes of my father kneeling in front of the tombstone, daisies scrunched up between his hands and the ground. In silence, I joined him.

He might have forgotten many things in the following years, but he never forgot lillies on that day again. And I never forgot the face of the boy who made things okay. Even for a moment.

And I mean that. I thought about him constantly for months after that incident. I turned to painting to try to salvage those curls and those eyes. I never crossed paths with him again, I couldn’t remember which way I went that day. Part of me is thankful for that since I wouldn’t have known what to do. What he did make me sure of was that I liked boys. I liked boys and only boys. And I would never be able to say that out loud.

———

I conclude my unfortunate responsibilities of the day rather early, but with the new motivation for tonight, I am glad to have enough time to get properly ready before the party. The Watford Ball is a yearly dance hosted by the Bunces in celebration of the Summer Solstice, also the most popular dance for courtship. Most families take this opportunity to passively-aggressively show each other who has the most power, usually showing off their heirs and silently betting on who will be oh so lucky to marry someone part of the most powerful families—those being mine, and the Salisbury’s, but there is no heir in that family. While gossip over the years has changed what happened over and over, from my understanding of these internal family feuds, Lady Salisbury’s daughter left her husband and the family at a young age. And while many presume it was adultery, I’d like to give her the benefit of the doubt. Her husband was no other than Sir Davy Cadwallader. Sir James, Lady Salisbury’s son, never married, so they have counted days of their fortune if something doesn’t change. Cadwallader, however, has taken use of every centimetre to his missing wife's name, and he makes it known.

Vera, one of our servants, finishes buttoning my brown floral waistcoat. I slick back my hair and adjust the earth green bow. I stare in the mirror and curse myself for actually trying to look presentable. I simply can’t shake the thought of a mildly admissible future, and I won’t lose my chance.

As I walk down the stairs, my father calls to me.

“Basilton,” he stares at me and nods.

I nod back, “Father.”

“Thank you for making an effort. I’m positive you will find a lovely young lady that will catch your eye.” He walks away.

I really, truly hate that this is happening. No matter the promising possibilities. I close my eyes and wish for a miracle. A golden one.

At the party, I escort my aunt Fiona due to my lack of a partner. We walk down an overwhelmingly decorated set of stairs. A herald stopping us and naming every title we each have, before taking our final steps. I have always found these introductions quite silly, but they do make me feel seen. As seen as is possible.

The room is wide and I notice clusters of hats and thin waists, men and women hand in hand dancing, and a sharp smell of tobacco and bergamot. I wait near the orchestra for the sight of Wellbelove, watching as more and more young people fill the room. I take a glass of white wine from a table and sip on it slowly. I wait for my singular goal tonight. Enchant a girl. It can’t be so difficult, can it? I glance at my aunt from the other side of the room, where she’s talking with the Bunces. She mouths patience, Basil, as she notices me. I am being patient. I am just shit at waiting.

Too much time passes and I feel my lungs close off from the number of people that have arrived now. Everyone is talking and talking. I lean back against the wall and I still feel crowded. Wellbelove doesn’t seem to be getting here any time soon. I should start talking to other people, other girls. But every time someone approaches me I make the conversation as short as politely possible. I really am not in the mood for a party.

It’s way too late now. I notice all the Wellbelove’s are here except for Agatha. I walk over to them to ask where she bloody is, but I stop in the middle of my journey as I hear the herald speak loud and clear. “Lady Agatha Wellbelove, and her partner Lord Simon Snow Salisbury.”

I curse under my breath and I can’t believe my luck. I whip my head towards the entrance and every thought or action in my body disappears.

Blue eyes. Bronze curls.

“ Simon Snow ,” I mumble under my breath or lack thereof.

See the lights, see the party, the ball gowns

See you make your way through the crowd

#snowbaz #snowbaz fic #snowbaz fanfic #carry on #simon snow #baz pitch #peneleope bunce #ebb petty #fiona pitch #victorian AU #simon and baz #slowburn #watford #farmboy!simon #idk what else to tag #writing #my writing #fanfiction #uh pls read and share lol

18 notes · View notes

msshadowqueen · 2 years ago

Text

A compilation of sassy Lucien

“My apologies, lady. I’m Lucien. Courtier and emissary. Your eyes are like stars, and your hair like burnished gold.” “Then you’ve got your work cut out for you, old son. I’m sure her life will be a fine replacement for Andras’s—maybe she can even train with the others on the border.”

“I told you so, Tamlin. Your skills with females have definitely become rusty in recent decades.”

“Well, you don’t look half as bad now. A relief, I suppose, since you’re to live with us. Though the tunic isn’t as pretty as a dress.” “We’re not going to bite.” “Won’t you stay for wine?” “It’s been a few decades since I last saw one of you, but you humans never change, so I don’t think I’m wrong in asking why you find our company to be so unpleasant, when surely the men back home aren’t much to look at.” “True. But indulge me: you’re a human woman, and yet you’d rather eat hot coals than sit here longer than necessary. Ignoring this, surely we’re not so miserable to look at. Unless you have someone back home. Unless there’s a line of suitors out the door of your hovel that makes us seem like worms in comparison.”

“Were you admiring my sword, or just contemplating killing me, Feyre?” “So young, and so grave. And a skilled killer already.” “We also dance with the spirits under the full moon and snatch human babes from their cradles to replace them with changelings—” “No ash arrows today, unfortunately.” “Well, you certainly have the quiet part of hunting down." “Well? No game good enough for you to slaughter? We’ve passed plenty of squirrels and birds.” “Tamlin said as much, which was no doubt why he brought you here. Or maybe you looked so pathetic in those rags that he took pity on you.” “So, when are you going to start trying to persuade me to beseech Tamlin to find a way to free you from the Treaty’s rules?” “Well, thank the Cauldron that you didn’t. Cleaning up that mess would have ruined the rest of my day.” “Would you like me to teach you how to wield a blade, or do you already know how, oh mighty mortal huntress? If you took down Andras, you probably don’t need to learn anything. Only where to aim, right?” “I suppose you humans are such hateful cowards that you would have wet yourself, curled up, and waited to die if you’d known beyond a doubt what Andras truly was.” “Back off? Back off while you seal our fates and ruin everything? I stayed with you out of hope, not to watch you stumble. For someone with a heart of stone, yours is certainly soft these days. The Bogge was on our lands—the Bogge, Tamlin! The barriers between courts have vanished, and even our woods are teeming with filth like the puca. Are you just going to start living out there, slaughtering every bit of vermin that slinks in?” “I had to go sort out some hotheads on the northern border—official emissary business. I got back in time to hear your little spat with Tam, and decided I was safer up here. I’m glad to hear your human heart has warmed to me, though. At least I’m not on the top of your killing list.” “I’ll be conveniently hunting on the grounds, and with my superior hearing, I might be feeling generous enough to listen if someone screams from the western woods. But it’s a good thing I had no role in telling you to go out today, since Tam would eviscerate anyone who told you how to trap a Suriel; and it’s a good thing I had planned to hunt anyway, because if anyone caught me helping you, there would be trouble of a whole other hell awaiting us. I hope your secrets are worth it.” “I might die of surprise. You made a joke, Feyre.” “Well, I’m late for something incredibly important." “If I offer you the moon on a string, will you give me a kiss, too?” “Unfortunately for you and your neck, tonight’s just a party.” “So there’s singing and dancing and excessive drinking. And dallying,” he added with a wicked grin. “I’ll have you know that while you two were dancing with the spirits, I was stuck on border patrol. With some company.” "I'm trying to eat." “What do you know about anything? You’re just Amarantha’s whore.” “Those clothes are enough to convince me I never want to enter the human realm.” Lucien told her to go back to the shit-hole she’d crawled out of. “Fixed—as pert and pretty as before.” “I’ve seen enough of you through that gown to last a lifetime.” You might as well look good if you’re going to arm yourself to the teeth. “Isn’t that what all human women wish for? A handsome faerie lord to wed and shower them with riches for the rest of their lives?” “If you expect our gratitude, you’ll be waiting a while, Ianthe.” “Whatever you’re planning, it’ll land us knee-deep in shit.” “I knew. I knew you were lying the moment you unleashed that light in Hybern. My friend at the Dawn Court has the same power—her light is identical. And it does not do whatever horseshit you lied about it doing.” “You have the gall to question my priorities regarding Elain—yet what was your motive where I was concerned? Did you plan to spare me from your path of destruction because of any genuine friendship, or simply for fear of what it might do to her?”

#lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #the man the myth the legend #high lord lucien #high king lucien #lucien spell cleaver #he's my bbg #sassy #king of the rizz #feycien #elucien

55 notes · View notes

thewindigos · 13 hours ago

Text

Agent Scully

The slight amount of a body resting against his brought him back to waking after a deep sleep. Opening his eyes, he found two blue gems and a red waterfall watching him.

"Day," he said, recovering.

"Day to you too," she replied, kissing the tip of his nose.

"Have you been awake long? Could you wake me up," she asked, caressing her bare back under the covers.

"No," she answered quickly," I preferred to let you rest a little longer. It was a busy week with VCU, you needed it," she continued.

"Thank you, honey," they didn’t often call names, but at times like this, she couldn’t resist.

"Mmm. You could show me that you’re grateful, in a way you’re very grateful," he teased

"If you ask so nicely, you know I can’t resist," she said, turning her back and starting to get under the covers.

"God, Mulder!" he exclaimed as Mulder’s tongue slid slightly between his lips.

"Shh, Scully" replied and stopped, "It doesn’t seem right to mention the name God in vain, it’s not good Catholic, honey"

"Don’t give me that shit now, Mulder, otherwise, when you’re done down there, I’ll get dressed and go home."

He in response resumed working on her making her moan.

The pleasure unfortunately did not last long as they heard the door of the apartment open after a light knock.

"Who the fuck is now," Scully exclaimed frustrated.

"Scully..." he tried but a familiar voice blocked him

"Fox, honey, are you home?" His mother had just walked into his house unannounced as he lay completely naked and distraught over an equally naked and distraught Scully.

"He can’t fucking find us like this." He shot agitated.

"Mulder calm down." I try to reassure him unnecessarily.

"Scully, you must hide," he ordered, getting out of bed and dragging the blankets with him.

"What?" she was stunned, she didn’t expect such a response from her.

"I’m sorry, Scully, but please, you have to hide in the closet, I don’t want my mom to find out we’re together like this"

She sighed exasperatedly, "All right, but then we do the math." She said as she approached the closet, "at least pass me a shirt."

He threw his t-shirt at her while she closed the door.

Meanwhile, his mother had approached his room, she could hear the steps in the corridor followed by a light knock on the door.

"Fox, are you sleeping?" she asked nicely

"No, I was getting ready for a shower, please don’t come in, I’m not decent," he replied, trying to stay as calm as possible.

"Oh, Fox, I’m your mother, nothing to be ashamed of," I replied as I entered the room, giving Mulder just enough time to bring the sheet in front of him.

His mother studied doubtful "Are you alone?"

"Yes, Mom." she answered, sitting on the bed, "No offense, but what are you doing here?"

"I can’t visit my son"

"Yes but..." he tried

"I was in town to see some friends, and I took the opportunity to visit my son, since he hasn’t been around much lately," she said.

"Sorry, Mom," he said, looking down at her " but the work has been very heavy lately." he hurried to say to justify himself "And then not even Scully, she could hear her mother very much, and she is much better at this than I am" by looking up and moving her hand between them as to emphasize their bond.

"You don’t have to be good Fox, just a few more calls would be enough, just to know that you’re okay, more often"

He nodded and looked down again. His mother understood that it was better to change the subject.

"So, how is Agent Scully," she asked, encouraging a new speech.

Mulder was amazed by her interest, "She’s fine, she’s good. It keeps me very active," he replied, looking quickly at the closet and pretending he didn’t think of it as a double entendre.

"I’m glad. She’s good for you." He continued "When she can she keeps you out of trouble. It doesn’t have to be an easy job for her."

"Mom..." replied he exasperated by where this speech was going.

He was trying not to look often at the closet to avoid his mother thinking he was hiding something.

"And then I like it a lot more than that woman who was there before. What was her name?" She asked rhetorically "ah, yes, Diana. I really didn’t like it at all," she concluded.

"Mom, please..." he tried again, tired of his mother’s allusions.

Meanwhile Scully in the closet could hear everything and could hardly hold back a laugh at Teena’s questions and the mention of Diana.

"Well, honey, I’m going to the kitchen to make coffee, why don’t you get dressed and meet me there?" he encouraged as he left the room. But as soon as he was out, he froze and turned, "Ah, and tell dear Agent Scully not to stay locked in the cupboard all the time and join us in the kitchen for coffee," she dictated, and resumed heading for the kitchen.

"But how..." he whispered in amazement.

General Masterlist

#txf #x files #fox mulder #dana scully #msr #drabble #fanfiction #fluff

2 notes · View notes

a-regular-amount-of-spiders · 3 months ago

Text

Interwoven With You ch 3.

The chapter in which nothing goes wrong Chapter 1 || Chapter 2

Tim covered up his mouth to avoid breathing in the dust kicked up by the horses, and was able to identify the newer soldiers simply by the fact that they didn’t think to do the same. He stepped inside, Barbara falling just behind in lockstep. A show of respect that she provides more out of duty than anything. Barbara didn’t trust anyone in their family the same way she’d seemed to trust Jason before everything happened. What Jason did when he came back certainly hadn't helped in the slightest.

The tavern wasn’t loud, but there was a buzz of noise that didn’t stop when they came in. The drunkard Tim had seen on the path wasn’t here and a lesser mind might have let doubt creep in, except Tim saw the astute look in the bar keeper's eyes. He noticed the way too many patrons maintained their conversations like they expected an interruption. Like they knew guards would be arriving. He took a seat at the bar, it had been recently wiped down. Barbara organized her men with only a few short orders, and Tim waved her off to talk to the patrons while he focused on the barkeep. Beatrice Bennett. He’d come across her name a few times, she was allegedly a pirate though there was no evidence to actually convict her of anything. Aside that she didn’t seem too bad, had worked with Red Hood for a time and had her good character vouched for. Unfortunately that good character also meant Jason hadn’t seen fit to provide any particular leverage over her either. He watches her, showing his impatience won’t do him any good, and the longer he stays the higher the chances become of one of her more nervous patrons lashing out. Tim didn't have high hopes of her cracking easily or quickly, but keeping her attention on him instead of the bar would be a boon for Barbara. “You’re too young to drink sire.” She offers an almost polite greeting, but the dismissal is clear. Tim suppresses his vicious satisfaction at being right, she broke the silence first. “Not looking to drink Miss Bea.” He leans on the bar, and Bea picks up a glass Tim is quite sure had already been cleaned. “You’re welcome to order whatever you’d like to eat, but I can’t promise I’ll meet royal standards.” She indicates a menu, but she’s not watching Tim. She’s watching her patrons, the low level conversations they’re having with Barbara and the guards. Her eyes narrow when money gets placed on the table. “Not here for food either.” Tim doesn’t take offense at her lack of attention, nor does he flinch when that sharp focus is turned back to him.

“Then why are you here, sire?” Bea keeps a polite customer service tone, but Tim has known Steph long enough clock when someone is flipping him off internally. Tim leans over his arms where they rest on the table. Her jaw is clenched, and her arm keeps twitching like she wants a weapon in hand. Jason and Damian both have the same habit. Tim has little doubt she’d have thrown anyone else out by now, hence why he had to be the one at the bar. “Why do you think I’m here?” He stands, moving around the edge of the bar, he’s a good bit shorter than her, but making the difference clear is worth the distasteful sneer that crosses her expression as he enters the space behind the counter. “You want me to guess?” She finally sets the glass down with a soft clink, long fingers lingering on the stem. “Indulge me, if you don’t mind.” He responds cheerfully, but doesn’t take his eyes off her. Royals are supposed to get what they want, and he can play the role of expectant prince well enough. It was expected of him when he was the son of a Marquis. “I’d wager it has something to do with the fuss someone kicked up in Gotham earlier today. Everyone’s on edge but no one seems to know the facts.” She grabs a bottle of whiskey and starts preparing a strong looking drink. “No one, really? I’m disappointed, I thought news traveled quickly in the nest.” Tim grabs a random bottle, examining it clinically. “Sorry to disappoint.” Bea cuts a lemon with more force than necessary “That all you came to say sire?” “Oh you haven’t disappointed at all, in fact I think we’ve just gotten started.” Tim grins when Bea sighs, clearly sick of him already. “Then why don’t we begin, I do have customers to attend to.” Bea takes a sip of the cocktail she just made, forcing her expression to fall flat. “I happen to have heard tell of two thieves passing through here, happen to ring any bells?” “Nope” She takes another sip. “No? Are you sure-” Tim takes a step forward, excitement sparking as he meets a brick wall, a challenge to tear apart. He’s interrupted by Barbara clearing her throat.

“Pardon me, but may we investigate your storage room?” Barbara gives him an apologetic glance, if nothing else she understood that a good interrogation was enrichment for people like them. Tim isn’t upset, because sees Bea freeze in the careful manner that only people with a great deal of secrets to keep ever do. The smallest moment of tension before the mask is back in place. Anyone other than the two people watching her would have missed it, but they grew up learning to read Bruce who hides things on instinct, as second nature. “Well I can’t exactly stop you can I? If you tear up my shop or steal anything I’ll be filing a complaint.” Bea shrugs, handing Barbara a key from her belt and going to one of her tables. Notably not the table that Barbara had bribed, but Tim is sure she'll make her way there the second no one is paying enough attention to her.

“Don’t worry, we’re very professional.” Tim says drolly as she leaves, relishing in the eye roll she definitely let him catch. She’d been watching him too, then. Barbara walks into the storage room first, carefully examining the floorboards and shelves for wires or pressure plates, or any other sign of a trap. Tim decided to take the approach of touching everything; tilting bottles, tapping his foot on the floor boards, opening barrels, even moving random items on shelves.

“This is where she took Flash and Arsenal, according to one of the patrons.” Barbara informed him, she didn’t seem inclined to touch anything directly as they moved towards the back. “Did you pay him enough for it to be worth the fall-out with Bennett?” Tim can’t help but to laugh at the snitches prospective misfortune, it was hard to find sympathy for the guy. “Definitely not. Did you get anything useful out of her?” Barbara scowls at the back wall, no evident hiding places present in the room. “Nope. Was working up to the whole brother’s missing crown sympathy play. Figured I’d have to be at least a little genuine for it to work.” Tim shrugs, pausing as one of the floorboards sounds ever so slightly more hollow than the others.

“Oh, hidden exit. Clever.” Barbara taps the floor with her halberd a few times to confirm the sound while Tim looks around for anything that would open it. Eventually his eye catches on the faintest gleam of grease, which had been on a few of the bottles upfront. The inevitable consequence of being the bartender and cook. He reaches up and pulls it, the bottle tipping until he hears a satisfying click, and Barbara has to jump away from the floor dropping open. “Why that one?” She sounds more curious than offended. Something he’d always liked about Barbara. “Finger grease!” Tim can’t help his excitement, almost bolting into the passage, only to have his collar grabbed by his companion.

“Of course you saw that. Wait for the guards this time though, I don’t want either of our dads to kill me.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The cave is cramped and muggy, water dripping from the ceilings as Flash carries the lantern ahead of Dick and Arsenal. The space looks largely hand carved tunnels crossing into old mine shafts. Escape routes added to existing tunnels decades long past. Dick is more comfortable in the cramped space than Arsenal seems to be, but maybe he's twitchy due to being a wanted felon. Dick isn't sure he'd be able to tell the difference. “So, Robin?” Arsenal prods, holding a bundle of Dick's hair as they make their way over damp, uneven stones. “Oh! I just didn’t really want to tell her my name.” Dick shrugs, then tucking his hair behind his ear and stepping closer to Arsenal’s space. “But you seemed to know her, you from the same place?” They obviously had a history together, and Dick wants to know everything about them. “Woah there sunshine, I’m not the sappy backstory type. That’s more Flash’s thing.” Arsenal brushes the question off seemingly out of habit, like it truly doesn't matter to him. “It’s not a good story anyways, no point boring you with it.” Flash is more defensive, shoulders creeping in and turning away from them. “What does sound like a good story is whatever you said to Bea that got her to help you” Arsenal steps tactfully between Dick and the skeleton on the wall, blocking his view even though Dick frankly prefers it to someone alive and actively dangerous.

“I didn’t really say anything special. We mostly talked about you two really?” Dick shrugs, watching Arsenal closely enough that he sees the man wince. “And what did you say about us?” Flash falls into line with them, curiosity and interest rather apparent. Dick can’t help but look at the way the torchlight highlights how long his eyelashes are. “Ah, that I understood you well enough to trust you?” Dick responds honestly despite knowing that the two will more than likely want to press him on that answer. He reaches and threads his fingers through the Flash’s, just to see if it distracts him from his curiosity. Flash is touchy, but doesn’t seem to be very used to reciprocation.

“Well I, uhm.” Flash turns a flattering pink, and Dick giggles at the warm feeling it causes to bloom in his chest. His reaction was much cuter than Dick had anticipated. Before Arsenal can intervene, the metal clanking of boots echoes down the cave. Flash’s hand tightens around Dick’s and suddenly they’re moving. Flash runs faster than Dick has ever gone in his life, not that there’s many places to run in the tower. Arsenal lights some sort of fuse with a flint stone around his neck, and moments after Dick hears loud popping and shouting behind them.

The late afternoon light is blinding after the darkness of the cave. They’re on a tiny overlook that looks horribly unstable with a sheer drop into a full yellow-brown canyon. A leaking, algae covered dam wall looms behind them, stretching out to the left and a massive water wheel worn smooth and covered in moss protesting each turn with an ominous creaking. The whole structure is beyond dubious. Flash comes to a stop at the edge of the overlook, only a scraggly wooden rope ladder available to help them down.

One of the lower entrances cracks open, a man with bright blond hair and scale-mail stepping out into the canyon with a vicious scowl and a crossbow, he spots them immediately and wastes no time leveling the crossbow at their heads. They stand out starkly against the drab, but lightly colored environment, most especially Dick. Flash shouts a clipped warning, shoving Dick to the ground, the bolt slicing open his cheek instead of lodging itself directly into Dick’s forehead. Arsenal steps forward into the space left, firing three arrows in quick succession. The first misses, but causes the man to flinch such that the second arrow finds its mark in the gap of armor between his shoulder and chest. The third arrow pierces into the crossbow, knocking it from his hands. Arsenal is completely focused and competent in a way that settles Dick into a greater focus. Flash sits up, pulling them both to their feet as the man in the canyon howls in pain.

“Who is that?” Dick turns to look at Flash, distantly noticing that they’re still holding hands. “Ravager, he doesn’t like us much.” Flash replies, letting go of Dick to step between him and the exit of the mine shaft. Just in time for four guards to pour out, led by a woman with a purple gambeson under her armor and a fierce scowl on her face. The scowl melts away when she sees Dick and she clearly recognizes him. The longer he looks at her the more his head hurts. He sees her mouth his name soundlessly, grip going slack on her halberd just long enough to give Flash an opening to knock it from her hands into the canyon below. None of them are expecting the frail young man to vault right over her and hit Flash in the sternum with a bo staff. It knocks both Dick and the woman out of whatever strange moment they’d found themselves in. The boy would have followed his first hit with a quick succession of stunning strikes, except for Dick blocking with his escrima sticks. Dick wraps his hair around the boy's wrists, dragging his chosen opponent with him to a different shelf of the canyon. Certainly not to escape the burgeoning migraine he got every time he looked at those guards. Certainly not to avoid whatever that woman might say.

“And who are you?” Dick asks the boy, letting him slip free to meet his bo staff blow for blow. There’s something fun about the fight, exhilarating in a way fighting Slade never had been. Like dancing instead of surviving. “I could ask you the same thing!” The boy seems to be enjoying this too, for all that there is an anger burning in his eyes. “Are you aware that you’re working with thieves?” “Who better to steal me away?” Dick responds lightly, bopping the kid lightly on top of the head before stepping back. He can’t bring himself to get too aggressive with him. “What? Steal you from who-?” The boy’s stormy eyes light up, consuming the information like it fuels him entirely. “Again, who are you?” He moves back in with his staff and Dick laughs. This kid is great.

-----------------------------------

Flash and Arsenal fight back to back with long won experience. Lieutenant Gordon is a fierce opponent and though the other guards are manageable neither of them are well suited to confined combat. Their only edge is being more familiar with each other than the guards are with their unit. Nothing illustrates this exact point better than Gordon knocking Flash down with a hard left hook and easily hauling Arsenal over her shoulder shortly after- oh and did Roy mention that Gordon also threw him off the cliff as well? Because Lieutenant Gordon threw him bodily off the cliff. He respects it, despises her a little but respects it. Fortunately Dick seemed to notice, and a strand of hair wrapped its way around his wrist and pulled taut before he could really start to fall. Roy doesn’t even have time to process that because Flash is calling out his name, and he’s reaching out to catch his friend who stupidly jumped after him.

“We’re gonna die” Roy mutters repeatedly as they swing over Ravager, the bastard trying to stab them with the lieutenant's halberd. Wally is quicker, and simply kicks it to the side wrenching Ravager’s bad arm, sending him to his knees and them spinning in the air. Roy will later use the spinning as justification for not catching them before he collided with the wooden lip of the tail channel and caused both of them to make a hasty, rough landing on the rickety wooden platform.

Roy hears the Lieutenant yelling something about idiotic ideas before a bang and a loud cracking noise from the dam echoes across the canyon. He sees Dick drop down to the canyon floor from wherever he’d been up above, dragging the third prince along with him as he sprints towards the exit. Roy and Wally jump down along the collapsing waterway, barely keeping their footing on slippery wood and falling beams as they catch up to Dick and the prince. Water and stone rumble and crash in a tumult of chaos just behind them as the dam fully breaks and lets loose a tidal wave that sweeps up everything in its path. The group just barely makes it through the exit when the water hits them, the tumbling rocks blocking them in not long after.

The cave they end up trapped in is wide but enclosed, and water is leaking in from the blocked entrance at a steady pace. Dick loses his grasp on the prince, diving down and searching for him in a panic. Arsenal tries to get at the rocks with an arrow, and a knife, and any tool he has, but none of it seems to work. “Kid! Oh god, the kid, where is he?” Dick dives in again, but Flash pulls him back up, fingers digging into wet cloth, catching at the buttons and tearing some of the seams.

“Dick, its pitch black down there, if your hair gets caught we’d never be able to find you” Flash’s arms are strong but shaking around his torso and Dick shoves him off, tearing his clothes, adrenaline feeding his frenzied search. “Kid!” He makes several more desperate dives, but the more the water rises the more hopeless he feels, until Arsenal catches him and is able to haul Dick against his chest and keep him from diving again. A sob shudders through Dick’s frame as Flash gently touches his face. He can hear Robin chirping nearby. Stuck with them in this place. “Dick, it wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have done anything, okay?” Flash’s voice is so gentle, but Dick doesn’t feel like he deserves it anymore.

“No, this is all my fault Flash! I should've listened to my Father. I was never going to make it out here. I was never going to survive and now because of me some kid is dead and soon we’ll be too.” Dick grabs Flash’s hands to shove them away, but can’t bring himself to let go. Holding onto the lifeline of human contact while he cries. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry Flash-” “Wally” Flash interrupts. “What?” It’s random enough to startle Dick out of his tears entirely. “My name. It’s Wally, not Flash. Figured you may as well know before we. Well, you know.” Wally sounds sheepish even in the dark. Dick wants to kiss him. Dick wants to start crying again. This wonderful man was going to die, and not even his hair could fix dead.

Dick stops, the panic had been so mind numbing he’d somehow failed to make the logical leap from glowing hair to lighting the way. “My hair glows!” He exclaimed a little too happily, and definitely without necessary context for the men next to him. Not that there’s time for it, given that the water was up to his neck by the time he started singing. He’d only finished one verse of that ancient song before the cave filled enough to force them all completely under, but one verse was enough. The familiar teal-blue glow of his childhood lit up the water bright enough for Dick to see their gobsmacked faces, and Robin panicking nearby. The saturated sapphire light made obvious the air escaping between manageably small rocks, so Dick swam down quickly, scrabbling at whichever stones he could gain purchase on, tearing them free until the water pressure sent the rest tumbling down into a river. Dick surfaced, hacking up the water he’d accidentally inhaled, checking to make sure all his companions were okay, finding Robin, Wally, and Arsenal but not the kid. He tiredly moves to go look for him but Arsenal, who had hauled himself out of the water, picks Dick up by the arms and tosses him onto the grass. They’re all soaked through, Wally breathing heavily where he’s tossed on the bank as well. Dick slips his heavy, ruined shirt off, sitting up to watch Arsenal strip off most of his equipment.

“Listen, I know you’re worried, but you don’t need to stay in the water looking for him.” Arsenal sighs, looking worn and drained. “I’ll check for him. You stay with Wally.” Arsenal clambers back up towards the exit they’d tumbled out from, sparing Dick one last look before heading in. “I’m Roy, by the way. Kid’s name is Timothy.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Slade hadn’t expected them to leave Grant mostly unattended, but he wasn’t the sort of man to question the gifts of incompetence. He let Grant see him, enough to follow his lead when Slade cut the throat of one unsuspecting soldier such that Grant could take down the other. Grant was suspicious, always remembering every slight done against him. “What are you doing here old man?” Grant spit out, all venom and no bite. “Don’t you have other kids to mind?” “At the moment it seems that you are the sole child in need of my attention.” Slade’s response was cool and even, disinterested enough to make him seek approval and loving enough to make him feel special. “What, did you actually come to help me?” Grant looks surprised, which is good, but his suspicion is slipping away. Always a disappointment.

“Heard you were in the area” Slade breaks Grant’s chains, stepping back enough to see through the window. It seems all the guards inside have gone down the back pathway. Grant follows his eye. The barkeep, named Blüd as far as Slade cared to remember, was bitching out one of the patrons. He wonders if she has the guts to draw blood, but not enough to stay around and find out. “You gonna stop me from chasing them?” Grant sneers in a half-challenge. As though he could actually win if he fought back. Slade never could understand why Grant always assumed Salde carried about the petty things. “No.” Is the only response Slade gives, and that’s all Grant needs to hear before he’s grabbing one of the fallen guard’s weapons and sprinting into the tavern. Slade follows, just long enough to catch Blüd’s blade as it chases after Grant. He needed Dick scared, needed him hopeless. Grant would be a useful tool in ensuring that happens. “Let the kids play, hm?”

------------------------------------------------------------

Slade waits around the exit to the secret tunnel, tucked in a hideaway of rock that lends a good view of the exit without itself being all that noticeable. Getting out of the tavern hadn’t been altogether difficult, given that the pirate hadn’t been terribly interested in following him. He’s not entirely certain who will come out the other end of the tunnels, but most ideally it will be Dick, alone and ready to go home. Of course, that’s why it had to be Grant that made his way out of the tunnel. Pathetically sopping wet and hacking out water. He punches the tree with a strangled shout, screeching curses about Flash and Arsenal. He’s a simple boy, convenient as he is annoying, reckless, and petty.

“Ready to listen to me now, boy?” Slade steps into the open, pleased from the way Grant goes silent and still by the sound of his voice. “Listen to you about what, exactly?” Grant scowls, crouched low and ready for a fight he’d always lose. Especially in his current state, arrow stuck from his shoulder, chest heaving from exertion.

“My advice. You want revenge on those thieves, you want your bounty?” Slade rips the arrow from his son’s shoulder, covering his mouth to quiet him. “The only way any of that happens is if you do exactly what I say.” Slade’s plans solidify in his mind, as Grant writhes on the ground. Slade steading him to tend to the wound. Grant swears for quite some time before finally settling. “Fine. What’s your damn plan?” He grits out, Slade is sure his bared teeth are supposed to be intimidating, but Grant will always remind him of the fussy child he used to be.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- They weren’t able to find the kid, but they also didn’t find a body and Roy did find a trail that suggested he ran away on the opposite bank from where they had dragged themselves back to land. Roy was too tired to give any sort of chase, and Dick is relieved enough by the possibility of Timothy surviving that he finds it easy to accept the idea that the boy slipped away. They didn’t speak much while Roy and Wally set up camp. Wally had only told him to give them both a minute, so Dick had just been waiting. Since then the sun has set and a summer coolness has set into the formerly clammy air. The cicadas began to sing along with the background thrum of the forest inhabitants. Dick tries to name as many sounds as he can while he waits, but finds that he doesn’t know the source of most. He wanted to ask very badly as red bled away from the sky, the silence leaving him uncomfortable.

Once Roy finishes lighting the fire they finally deign to speak to him. “So. Magic glowing hair?” The question is as expected as it is jarring Dick can’t help but to flinch, even though he’s fairly certain by now that Roy wouldn’t hurt him. Dick glances at Wally for support, but Roy just waits for him to turn back. Wally doesn’t acknowledge him. “He’s not sure how to take it, yet. He’s not upset, but he says stupid things when he doesn’t know what to do with information. Talks without thinking.” Roy takes out a whetstone, and starts sharpening his tools. The familiar scrape of metal as it sluices through the water is a strange comfort. It reminds him of more peaceful nights in the tower. Dick finds the affirmation soothes his hurt before it can truly begin to set in.

“And you don’t? Say stupid things?” Dick fidgets with his hair, and in his mind's eye all he can see is the sluggishly bleeding cut on Wally’s cheek. His fault. “Oh no, I definitely do, especially when I’m upset, or not thinking. I’m neither of those right now though so you should be safe Sunshine.” Roy’s voice is a lot softer than Dick had heard it. Here, without looking at him nor giving any indication that he might, it seems that Roy has let his walls down. Dick shifts close enough that their legs touch. A sliver of warmth shared between them that feels bigger than either man.

“My hair is magic. That’s why my father didn’t want me to leave. I was hunted for it when I was little, but I don’t remember anything before I was 11. Basically half my life completely gone all because I wanted to go out. To see a circus” Dick reminds himself to take a deep breath, smelling the woodsmoke in the air, feeling the moss underfoot and lays his hand on Roy’s leg. He’s not alone, he’s not inside. “That makes a lot of things make a lot of sense. If it's any comfort we’ve got our ear to the ground in a fair few criminal circuits, and I’ve never heard of hair like yours or magic hair at all. Whatever it is, isn’t well known.” Roy doesn’t tense at the contact, but doesn’t lean into it nor stop sharpening his arrowheads.

“That’s… the world isn’t the way my father told me it would be. It feels awful but I’m a lot more willing to believe you than him right now” Dick feels a miserable guilt encroach like a noose. He’s such an ungrateful child. Roy flicks his nose. “Listen, I know it isn’t really my place to say anything about your dad…” Roy trails off, letting Dick decide if he wants to hear whatever comes next. “It isn’t. Say it anyway.” Dick gently takes the arrowhead and stone from where Roy’s hands have paused as he thinks and continues the work. Dick is good at this, has done it hundreds of times before. “He shouldn’t have done or said any of what he did to you. A dad should never be the reason his kid is scared” Roy places his hand over Dick’s wrist to prompt him to look up. “He should never have laid his hands on you like that.” Wally comes to sit down and Dick pulls away from Roy entirely. “My Father. He isn’t always the best man, but he tries. Isn’t that what matters? That he loves me and he wants to keep me safe?”

“I can’t imagine ever grabbing someone I care about like that, but I can tell you my own dad did things like that all the time. I don’t know if I can say his love was anything other than twisted. If you can call it love at all.” Wally admits into the open air, and his voice is almost drowned out by the crying insects. It may as well have been though because Dick has no idea what to say to that, feels faintly hysterical as he tries to wrap his head around the concept that his relationship with his Father is anything other than normal. He tries to find something wholesome to grasp onto, something humanizing.

“I, no. He always caves when I call him dad. He- he does love me. He just doesn’t always know how to express it.” Dick starts to feel cornered, bristling and ready to fight. “He doesn’t seem the type.” Roy and Wally are both watching him carefully now. Frantically Dick wonders if they’d chase him if he ran right now. He tries to remember a time Slade caved for him, a time that unyielding man gave in to something just because his son asked. He knows that his father did. It is a fact, an immutable fact so why can’t he remember a single instance clearly? “Hey, breathe. We don’t have to talk about this anymore. It’s okay.” Wally grabs one of Dick’s hands painfully carefully, bringing it to his chest. “Breathe with me. In, count to four, out count to four…” Wally becomes background noise as the world fizzes back into existence. Dick hadn’t even noticed when everything became white noise.

“Sorry.” He misses having a place to hide. “Don’t be. Happens to everyone at some point.” Roy is relaxing against a tree, hat tipped down over his face and Wally… Wally still has that cut on his cheek. “My hair doesn’t just glow.” Is as good of a subject change as any. A refuge of sorts. Wally just blinks and Roy lifts his hat with a finger, befuddled. Dick wraps his hair around his hand, pressing it over the cut on Wally’s cheek. “Trust me?” “Always.” Wally is as earnest as he always has been. Puppyish disposition comforting and sweet. So Dick starts to sing, gentle and ancient and the part of him that had become twisted and cynical now unfurling and happy to help. When he pulls his hand away Roy has leaned in, curious. “Don’t freak out.” Dick hurries to say when Wally inhales sharply, hand on his cheek. “Freak out? Me? Why would I freak out, your hair healed me that’s…cool” Wally is brought to a slow stop by Roy making a sharp ‘cut it out motion’ with his hand.

“I figure that’s why people were after you then?” Roy asks, over exaggerated glare at Wally dropping into seriousness. Dick nods, pulling back a curtain of hair to show the inky black strand his Father always kept short. The blue hue of his hair became more obvious against the void color of the cut hair. “When I was 11, I insisted on going to the circus. People took me, and cut my hair and did…” Dick waves his hand with a scowl “Did something to my memory, as I said. I can’t recall any of it, but I know that when my hair is cut it loses its power. A gift to be protected, but that I must always fear having because of what people would be willing to do for it.” Dick can’t help the instinctual rise of fear that wells up, but Wally still has his hand trapped against his steady chest so Dick can match his breathing again. Focusing on keeping pace keeps his mind steady. “So you never left that tower.” Roy groans, covering his eyes again and sporting wry smile “hell of a backstory sunshine.” “Are you still going to go back?” Wally isn’t wry. Wally sounds heartbroken.

“No!” Dick hurries to assure him, before cringing “Yes? I don’t know.” He pulls Wally’s hands, clasped in his own, up to rest his forehead on. “I’ll figure that out when I get to it.” Dick strings together his composure, deciding to land on a more safe topic -- anything not about himself. He lifts his head to rest his lips on their joined hands, smiling as Wally’s eyes widen. “So, Wally and Roy huh?” Dick is rewarded by hints of red blooming on Wally’s cheeks. “Oh god. Yeah, that’s kind of a lame story, so you don’t…” Wally cringed, but when Dick only scooted closer with big pleading eyes he sighed like a man defeated.

“Yeah okay. So, Wally and Roy were just two runaways from shitty or absent fathers, us against the world. No money, no home, drifting from one orphanage to the next. There were these books. Tales of different heroes, there were tons of them, but our favorites were, well…” “Arsenal the Archer” Roy salutes, he’s moved to be laying back on the moss, hat conveniently covering his face. The hat can’t hide how red his ears are though.

“And Flash the Fastest Man Alive.” Wally squeezes Dick’s hand in his own, still clearly ashamed, but unable to hide his fondness for those stories. The saccharine memories of those days long past. Dick thinks he might have had someone he was that close to. Someone scrappy, someone cheerful and brighter than the sun. “Were they thieves too?” Dick smiles at the cozy air that settled around them, the moment crystallizing in his memory. Dick thinks this might be his favorite. “Nope, they were stacked with cash.” Roy quips from the ground. “They could do anything they wanted, go anywhere at all. They…” Wally looks at Roy, as though asking permission. Roy gives him a thumbs up. “They could take care of a kid, give her whatever she needed. Whatever she wanted.” “You have a kid?” Dick is genuinely caught off guard.. Wally shakes his head, inclining a nod towards Roy. “He does. We got caught up in a bad crowd, and from that came her and also a whole lot of debts to pay. That crown, it’ll pay off the rest of what we owe. We can get her back, and have enough for whatever she wants.” Wally swallows, tears brimming but never falling “She’s a really good kid.”

“I believe it, if she’s anything like the two of you.” Dick pulls Wally into a hug. It’s awkward, limbs not really aligning correctly from where they’re sitting, but they both need it. He rubs Wally’s back, the bony knobs of his spine reminding Dick, for a moment, of someone else. Someone forgotten. “Don’t tell anyone, you hear me? It’s not safe to go talkin about.” Roy says gruffly. He hasn’t moved from the mossy ground, and hasn’t uncovered his face. He’s not relaxed despite his position, every line of his body tense. “Plus it would totally ruin our suave reputation” Wally adds, and Dick laughs, holding him closer.

“Can’t have that, either of those things, can we?” Dick presses their foreheads together, and for a moment he thinks they’re going to kiss. But Wally pulls away, and they don’t. Dick doesn’t know why, but he’s embarrassed enough to stand and brush himself off. As though he can wipe the building heat of the moment off his skin. “I should get some more firewood.” He says awkwardly, even though the fire isn’t all that low, hurrying into the safety of the dark woods the moment he gets an indulgent nod from Wally and a comment from Roy about not going too far. He pauses at the threshold just long enough to turn and speak.

“For the record, I like Wally and Roy a lot more than Flash and Arsenal.” He doesn’t wait long enough to hear the response. He hopes they know what he meant. He turns it over in his head as he walks into the trees. He’d met Arsenal, cold, competent, and practical. Always a sarcastic response ready and always someone to be relied upon. Underneath that he’d seen kind, perceptive, caring Roy. Always finding a way to meet the needs of the people around him, taking the fall without complaint, or carrying the burden no one even realizes needs to be taken up. He’s met the Flash, confident, boisterous, and dexterous. An adept thief, and a clever ally. He sees the way Flash turns problems over in his mind three times as quick as everyone else, never lagging when you need him. He’s seen Wally too. Earnest, well meaning, and as fast to care as he is to do anything else. Wally, who can pick up on something wrong the moment it’s in front of him and will without fail go to fix it the next. Strange how quickly the monsters from the stories his Father always told him became the lights that guided him. Dick doesn’t fully understand the feelings forming, all the reasons that his heart beats a little faster and his face gets a little warm. All that matters is that he gets to spend as much time with them as possible. He barely sees the firelight in the distance when he stops to collect wood. It doesn’t take Slade long to find him.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“He’s pretty, isn’t he?” Roy finally sits up, leveling Wally with the same skepticism he usually reserved for when he’s plying people for information. “You know he is.” Wally snaps back, the day was draining and he was tired. “Just ask what you want instead of playing games Roy.” “You like him.” Roy doesn’t ask, just states what he knows. The certainty would be offensive were it anyone else. “I do. Don’t you?” Wally knows Roy well enough to catch his lingering eye, to catch the softer hand he deals towards people he likes. Experienced it often enough first hand as teenagers.

“You still want me? If there’s ever a day we don’t have to run anymore?” Roy won’t look at him. He’s bracing for rejection, has been hurt more than enough to have learned to expect it. It isn’t the first time he’s asked something similar, but Roy has never been so direct. When one of them almost dies Roy gets antsy, wants Wally to cut and run. There’s a new element now though, the beginnings of jealousy. “You’re the only one who has ever stopped me from wanting you.” Wally can’t help his own bitterness. He didn’t need to wait for some hypothetical day that may never come, he’d have taken Roy through any of the things they’d gone through. Everytime he almost lost him, Wally’s first instinct was to hold on for dear life, and Roy’s was to push him away. Often it felt like Roy was the only piece of his life he’d managed to clutch onto when it all broke apart. “Sorry to disappoint.” Roy rolls to turn away, but Wally snarls, grabbing his shoulder and pushing him flat on his back, hovering over him. He’s tired of running in circles. Tired of not having what’s right in front of him, of Roy not taking for himself. Now with Dick in the mix, Wally couldn’t go after what they both wanted without risking Roy. Not until they solve this. “That’s not what I meant and you know it Roy. You were the one who got it in your head that I needed some picture perfect love story. Just because I wanted what I did with Linda doesn’t mean I need it with you.” Wally barely manages to say her name without feeling the lingering ache she had left behind. That was a long time ago now. Those days would never come back.

“You expect me to believe that isn’t what you want? You were going to leave me for it, leave everything for her and I wouldn’t have even blamed you. You deserve to settle down with him the same way you did with her. It’s my fuck ups, my mistakes, my responsibilities that keep you in a life I know you hate as much as I hate doing it to you.” Roy doesn’t back down, flipping Wally and userping his position, keeping Wally down with his larger stature. “Yes! I expect you to believe me when I say I want to be by your side. Maybe if you’d admit for once that I had my own part to play in the road that got us here you’d realize that I never even blamed you to begin with. It wasn’t your fault Roy, we were kids.” Wally wraps his arms around Roy, pulling him down into a crushing hug. “It wasn’t our fault.” “I’m sorry” Roy mumbles into Wally’s neck, lifting his head enough to make eye contact. Braced on his forearms as Wally’s hand rests on the back of his head, threading through mussed up hair. “Me too. I want you still, I’ll always want you however you are. Whatever life that means.” Wally pulls a leaf out of Roy’s hair. He’d never said it that directly. He’d been to young before, and too hurt by poorly handled fights after.

“I want you. I want him too, but he deserves better than me. You deserve better than me.” Roy scowls, but lets Wally pull him into a soft kiss all the same. It had been a long time since they’d almost lost one another. It was harder to justify losing more chances. “Maybe you should let other people decide what they deserve, hm? We could have been doing this for years.” Wally kisses Roy again, because he can, because he’s not certain Roy won’t end it again for everyone’s sake but his own. There’s a new element to their dynamic now though. “He really is so pretty.” Wally sighs, thinking of Dick, and the sweet, joyful, intelligent way he approaches everything. Shockingly shrewd for someone so sheltered. Roy’s gravelly chuckle as he goes boneless on top of Wally just to spite him is enough of an answer for now. They could be happy together, Dick fit in with them well enough. Wally will have to thank Dick for finally getting Roy to have a conversation he’s been avoiding for 2 years.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I thought you’d never part from them, little bird.” Father’s voice is ominous and far more terrifying than Dick remembered. “Father?” Is all Dick manages to pick out of his non-stop internal dialogue of ‘He shouldn’t be here’. Did Slade see Roy and Wally? Are they okay? Would Dick have even heard them die? “Richard.” His father responded almost kindly, wrapping him in a suffocating hug. Dick doesn’t ask how Slade found him, if his Father was looking then it wouldn’t have been all that hard. Dick hasn’t exactly blended in. Why he decided to cut his trip short is a mystery though. “You could have gotten hurt. This past day must have been terrifying.” Father grabs his upper arms, beseeching. “Father, I’m okay. This journey has been incredible, I know you think I’m being reckless, but so far there hasn’t been anything I couldn’t handle. Dick very carefully removes himself from Slade’s grasp. “So we should wait until you find something you can’t deal with? Until you get hurt, or tortured, or die?” He growls “Those thieves are taking advantage of you and your naivete” “If I’m naive then you only have yourself to blame. Besides, I don't think they are. They’re good people Dad, kind people who have looked after and helped me.” “This is why you never should have left, getting all these demented ideas caught up in your head. You’re a child, you have no idea how easily some people lie.” Slade stalks through the gloom of the forest like a nightmare. “You’re wrong. I know who they are, better than you.” Dick argues back, emboldened when no weapon is drawn to correct him. “You think so? You’re so sure you know who they are? Fine then” He snarls, throwing the satchel Dick had been certain just a moment ago would never be found. “Give them this, see how quickly they turn on you then. See how fast they decide you’re not worth it” “I will. You’ll see they’re different then.” Dick hooks the satchel over his shoulder standing as tall as he can against the greatest horror of his childhood, defying his Father. “I’ll keep nearby, and when they turn on you I will be there to help you. I will always be there for you, even when you betray me Richard.” Father leaves a lingering pat on Dick’s head. “Don’t bother. I won’t ever need to come back.” Dick snarls after the darkness, surprised when it doesn’t bite back twice as hard. He feels strange in the absence of the anger, stepping to chase after a reaction, after the familiar, when a small hand around his wrist stops him. “Stop. Whatever you were going to do, don’t.” Prince Timothy is looking up at him and truly Dick has no clue where the kid came from. He abruptly realizes that he’d almost gone running after his Father just to seek out a fight he didn’t even want. He’s not even sure why. Instead of assessing that, Dick elects to express his gratitude by wrapping the kid up in his arms with an overabundance of concern and relief.

--------------------------------------------------------

Tim recognized Dick pretty quickly all things considered, not that it was hard at this point, but Tim had known since Barbara froze up. He had only been 5 when Dick disappeared, but he had a good memory. His hair was bluer now, but he had the right face, looked to be in his early 20s. That paired with what he was certain now was the Stranger in the forest all led to one conclusion. So Tim let Dick tell him a fake name, and didn’t even try to fight when he pulled Tim along with him into the mine shaft. Now, Tim definitely could have said something when they thought he was drowning, but then they started talking about personal things. Tim wanted to know everything about this tower, this stranger that had Dick convinced he was his father. And well, if they died anyway what difference did it make if he said anything?

Then when they got dumped into the river, he could have said something instead of disappearing into the underbrush. He’d probably only managed to avoid Arsenal purely due to the man’s exhaustion anyway. However, if Arsenal found him then he’d either have to go back with him and risk stunting the conversation, or find a way to Not do that and risk losing them in the forest. So Tim hid, and just listened to them talk. Maybe that was a little creepy. But its rude to interrupt! It seemed like an important conversation that needed to happen anyhow.

When Dick went to get firewood, he followed his brother. His brother! The missing piece in their lives. Then the Stranger showed up, and Tim rightly hates the man. He stole his brother, and worse is a terrible father to him. Tim hopes the man’s awful behavior will make it easy to trick Dick into staying in Gotham long enough for him to run into Bruce. Then the King will do all the work of making his brother stay home. Everything will be fine. Tim hadn’t planned to show himself until the morning. To wake up the thieves with an arrow pointed at their chest and take Dick to Gotham himself. Sure he understood now why they took the crown, but maybe Tim wasn’t over the whole falling down a cliff and being knocked out thing. Then Dick started to step after the Stranger and Tim had stepped forward and grabbed his arm before he’d even thought about it.

Now he was here, sitting next to his brother across from two thieves with the very crown they stole hidden in his bag. This is gonna be fine. Probably.

#wally west x dick grayson #amountofspidersfic #birdflash #tangled au #roy harper x wally west #roy harper x dick grayson

4 notes · View notes

ramblinganthropologist · 9 months ago

Text

N7 24 13 and 14 - Reputation and Rachni

Summary: Sometimes, Alistair feels like he's just part of some big, weird game. But at least he can help others while he's tooling around. Sometimes, he even gets a date out of it.

Everything was on fire, and there he was checking his emails.

Alistair sighed and pushed away from his desk. They would be docking at the Citadel soon, and he had a to-do list a mile long. No doubt it would get even longer as he ran around, solving problems and finding more. Lately, it seemed like life was nothing more than a series of fetch quests in some horrid video game.

Who would even play a game about the end of the galaxy? Weirdos was all he could assume.

“Commander, we’re getting a request for aid from the elcor. They signed it ‘with urgency’ so you know it’s a big deal.”

Joker’s voice echoed through the elevator as he rode it down to the CIC. He already knew what they were asking for – he had run into the dignitary the last time he had visited the Citadel. They had wanted him to provide aid to their people and to find something called the Code of the Ancients to inspire survivors.

They had done so – but it wasn’t a happy ending. They had the code, but not much else to show for it. There had been survivors in the elcor flotilla, but it wasn’t nearly enough. And it wasn’t like he had gotten around the planet much during that time – there was never much time to visit when the Reapers were destroying everything.

So… some news was better than none, he supposed. But it wasn’t great – great wasn’t in the cards anymore.

Unsurprisingly, the CIC was busy as he stepped towards the front of the Normandy. He gave the galaxy map a wide berth – things were still set for the Citadel so there was no point in changing things – and instead, headed towards where Joker and EDI were sitting. The AI nodded as he approached, but his pilot had his eyes on the front window.

Ever a pilot.

“Commander Shepard, were you able to find the Flotilla?”

Alistair nodded as he stretched out a sore muscle in his arm. “And the Code of the Ancients. I can only hope it will bring a little relief to the elcor.”

Joker pressed a button – they were starting to slow down and exit FTL space. Soon, they would be within Citadel space and easing onto the docking bay. “I still can’t believe they mount guns on their backs like that. Talk about tanks.”

Yeah – Alistair had of course read about it during basic and his N7 studies but reading about elcor battle tactics and actually seeing it were two different things. To see such a gentle people go balls to the wall -as his sister put it – against the Reapers was honestly terrifying. He didn’t even want to think about trying to block those guns. No doubt they would punch a hole straight through even his shields.

Thank God they were on his side.

“I managed to upgrade some of their weapon VIs that were running a little slow while we were there. There was an error in the code during reloading that would cause a delay.” He finally got the soreness out by practically breaking his arm in the process. It was his right arm, so no big deal. “That should give them more of a fighting chance.”

His pilot kept punching buttons. “That’s our Commander, a tech even when under fire. If you hadn’t been a biotic, the engineer corps would’ve killed for you.”

Would have? They practically had when he had been in basic. Unfortunately for them, being a biotic came first for humanity and he hadn’t had much of a choice in the matter. Still, he had plenty tech expertise, even if biotics were his main area of focus.

But… yeah, Bo would’ve considered him even more of a mad scientist had he gone the pure engineering route.

“Let’s just say it got a little messy when it came to custody over me.” He watched as the Citadel appeared in the distance. “Looks like we’re almost there. I’ll get ready for landing.”

Joker briefly glanced over his shoulder. “You taking Garrus for a date once we land, Shepard? He’s been looking lonely lately.”

Alistair felt his face heat up and was glad for the fact he had turned around so the man didn’t see his cheeks turn pink. “Not much time for that kind of thing right now, Joker. I have a lot of things to do…”

“Just a suggestion since you’re a first timer.”

How the Normandy had found out about his lack of dating history, he didn’t know… but it was really biting him in the ass.

Regardless, Alistair shook his head as he went to get his things together for the Citadel. He had things to do, and he was going to take whoever was best for the mission. That was how he always handled things.

No time for playing favorites.

---

“We managed to find the Code of the Ancients, It’ll be waiting for you at the loading dock.”

Being outside a club was a weird place to have this kind of conversation. However, beggars couldn’t be choosers in the middle of a war zone. The hand off was complete, and all he had to do was finish the updates.

The elcor in front of him was a diplomat, so they didn’t have the shoulder-mounted heavy guns. Those kinds of things wouldn’t have been allowed on the Citadel anyway, especially during war time. Besides, they had a different look to them compared to the ones he had fought with. Civilian, not military.

“With gratitude, thank you Commander.”

He nodded. “Before I left, I was able to help the Flotilla. Did they send word on how many elcor made it off world?”

It was a question he had been asking countless times to endless amounts of people – how many survivors? What could ever be considered enough of a society rescued to say the bleeding was stopped or even stemmed?

“Not enough.”

Something about that caused a chill to run up Alistair’s spine. It was the answer he had been getting every time he asked, in various languages but with all the same results. The body bags and pyres outnumbered the living, and the number was shrinking by the day. Maybe they would all have toe tags by the time the war was over…

But he had to keep going. There were still people out there.

“I’m sorry. I wish I could do more.”

“With gratitude and sorrow, thank you for trying.”

The elcor went off to no doubt pick up the relic, leaving Alistair outside a rowdy club with a deepness in his stomach that weighed him down with every step. All he could do was shake his head and sigh, shoulders slumped as he made his way to the elevator. There were still more things to do, and he had to stay on his toes.

---

By the end of two hours, he had checked everything off his to-do list. And, naturally, two more pages got added for the next time he was in space.

Alistair’s head spun as he massaged his aching temples. His stomach was empty, and his CGM was beginning to sound its regular alarm that he needed to eat something. It was a long walk back to the Normandy, and by then he would be in the 40’s if he was lucky. Any lower, and he risked passing out.

It wasn’t great for morale when a recognizable military figure passed out on the Citadel. It tended to look like someone died.

“Al, I can hear you beeping from over here.”

He picked up his head at the nickname, as if it was his needed reminder that he was still only human. Much to his surprise, he found Garrus seated at a nearby fast food place, waving him over. His feet went before his brain, and he was soon sitting down across from him.

“Garrus, I thought you were down-“

His tongue was numb, so it was hard to talk. By now, the turian knew what low blood sugar did to humans. Thanks to that, he got up without a word and headed over to order food. Alistair watched him go, head already beginning to swim as his CGM continued beeping.

At least he could silence it for the moment – random beeping noises tended to bring bomb squads if they didn’t stop.

A few moments later, a paper cup was slid in front of him by a taloned hand. When he touched it, his fingers came back cold. There was no more thinking in that moment – he found the straw and took a deep sip.

Sprite; somehow, they had it even during the war.

“You said you need pure sugar without fat in it to get your numbers up the last time this happened.” Garrus settled back in with a tray of food. “Once your tongue and lips work, you can have the rest.”

Alistair’s brain processed that slowly. All he could do was nod and take another sip, feeling the bubbles pop against his tongue. After a few more clumsy mouthfuls – drinking with a straw when your lips didn’t want to work was a task – the world slowly started to come back into focus.

Another minute, and he could feel his tongue. Drinking with a straw became easier, and with that came rational thought. He sighed as he settled into his hard plastic seat, finishing off the soda with a clear mind.

“Thanks. I didn’t realize I was going so low.”

Garrus nodded at that. “You forgot to eat because you were so busy again, didn’t you?”

When Alistair didn’t answer, he sighed. “That’s just like you, Al. You’re so focused on saving the galaxy that you nearly get yourself killed.”

In the end, he nudged over the tray. On it was some nuggets, fries, and another cup. This one was cold too, but it didn’t slosh around when he picked it up. Instead, he spied a bit of bright green dripping from the straw.

“They had mint chocolate chip ice cream too?”

The turian’s mandibles fluttered in satisfaction. “About the only place that still does if the man behind the counter was telling the truth. As soon as he saw you he got straight to work. Guess your reputation proceeds you.”

What, the one where he was an absolute fiend for milkshakes? Yeah, he’d cop to that one no problem.

“You’re the best.” He sighed in relief as he took a sip, lemon and lime being replaced by dairy. “How’d it go with the other turians?”

Garrus sighed as he poked at his food. “Not great, but I can work with that for now. At least I was able to get word from my father and sister this time. They’re both ok so far.”

Alistair stopped drinking. “You heard from Castis and Solana?”

He really only knew the pair by their names due to the circumstances. From what Garrus had told him over the years, his father was high up in C-SEC and his sister was a few years off finishing her mandatory duty. They sounded like an alright bunch, though he didn’t really know anything else about them.

“It was brief. I didn’t exactly get the chance to tell them about you.” For some reason, the turian chuckled. “Did I ever tell you Solana was ready to storm the Normandy if you hadn’t taken me being crossed well? She’s not exactly an elite soldier, but she was gunning for you.”

That made Alistair smile despite how tired he felt. “Well, at least that answers where you fall in the birthing order. That’s a big sister reaction if I’ve ever heard one.”

Not that he would know – Anora had never really been in that sort of role for him. But it sounded like the kind of thing an older sister would do if she cared about her little brother.

Though, that would’ve been a sight. He would’ve almost welcomed meeting her that way.

“I’ll have to introduce you later. She’ll love you, I’m sure.”

Later – that was a heavy word that brought with it a lot of maybes. They would need to not only survive the war with the Reapers, but also make sure that Palaven made it through too. Even if it did, there was no guarantee the Vakarian family would come out the other side alive. It was all just speculation at that point, and it weighed on him.

But it also brought hope – and hope was something they needed in dark times.

“Looking forward to it.” Alistair popped a fry into his mouth but frowned as his omni-tool beeped as he did. That was another request coming in – something else to add to his to-do list for when they got back into space. “And looks like Admiral Hackett has some more work for us to do.”

Garrus shook his head as he sipped his drink. “I can hardly wait to see where we go this time. You take me to the best places, Al.”

All he could do was chuckle weakly as he scanned the details. “I know, I’m just the best boyfriend there is.”

He was still getting used to that. The whole ‘being a boyfriend’ thing was new to him. He could only hope he was doing an ok job, giving he was learning as he went. At least Garrus had some experience in the matter.

Like the old saying went – green on green makes somebody black and blue.

“Well, at least it’s good to hear you’re thinking better of yourself. My compliments to Dr. Hunter for her tireless work of building up your self-esteem.” Garrus’ tone didn’t have a joke at the end, so he was being sincere.

Alistair nodded as he went for a nugget – they were still hot. “She’s a miracle worker alright. Now if I could only get Bo to go to her.”

“Please, we need Shepard to be an angry mess or we lose our krogan.” Garrus paused mid bite of what looked like a turian’s version of a burger. “Speaking of, have you heard from Grunt since we last saw him?”

No – his nephew was terrible at emailing. He took after his mother that way.

Still, Alistair frowned as he thought back. The entire mission still seemed so unreal – he hadn’t expected to run into the Rachni queen after he had released her in 2183. Being there with Grunt had made things even weirder, almost surreal in how things had turned out.

Also, creepy. It had been really, really creepy and if he never saw a glowing pod again it would be too soon.

“He’s healing up. They’ll have him back on his feet and with a new squad in no time. With any luck, he’ll email Bo to let her know he’s ok.” He shrugged. “Uncles don’t get that privilege I’m afraid.”

That made Garrus chuckle. “Makes me sad I missed the little guy.”

“No, trust me, you got the better deal by not going on that mission. A certain friend of ours from Noveria showed up.” Alistair glanced around, before adding in a low tone. “She’s fine too, thankfully. With any luck, we’ll have her on our side as well.”

Before that moment, he would’ve sworn only the softer races could have the color drain from their faces. However, watching Garrus blanch at memory of the rachni was all the proof he needed in that moment. Clearly, it had been for the best that the turian had been back on the Normandy for that one.

“Spirits. You really do the impossible, Al.” He sought a comfort sip of his drink. “That’ll be a huge boost if it works out. We just have to worry about people being terrified if she shows up.”

In response, Alistair smiled grimly. “Bit late for that, babe, her workers already got there. I had some interesting emails about it, let’s just say that.”

Part of him felt bad for not getting the warning to Admiral Hackett in time, but at the same time he drew dark amusement from picturing just how that had turned out. Nobody had gotten shot in the end, and it added to the war effort, so it was a good thing in his book.

A bit uncomfortable, maybe, but it was all he could ask for.

“I always knew you had a dark side.” Garrus let out a low chuckle that didn’t quite make the translator – it came out primal sounding and made his heart skip a beat. “Nobody will believe me, though. Not with your reputation.”

That made him smile for real as he sipped at his milkshake. “You get a little wiggle room for being a good boy, what can I say?”

He also got a lot of requests for aid from all across the galaxy. Even as he sat there, more emails were coming. By the time he got back to the Normandy, he’d have a full plate and plenty of dots on the galaxy map to investigate. With any luck, there would be more survivors and a chance to scratch out a small win against the Reapers.

They all need that – the body bags were piling up faster than they could bury them.

But he pushed that aside for the moment. It would come back to haunt him later in the dark when he couldn’t sleep and sweat dripped from his brow as his fists tightened around his blanket. For the moment, he kept it at bay. Light was good for that.

“Anyway, I just remembered that Joker said I should take you on a date when we got to the Citadel.” He nodded to the cup. “I don’t know much about dating yet, but doesn’t this count?”

Garrus’ mandibles twitched in response as he grinned. “Technically speaking, I bought the food so I’m the one taking you on a date.”

“Is that how that works?” Alistair chuckled softly. “Well, then I guess I owe you one the next time we get back.”

Next time – he was going to will that into existence. There would be another chance for moments like this; he would claw it from the jaws of death itself if he had to do it. If life was to keep going, they all needed the chance for moments like this. So, he would keep fighting to make sure it happened.

It was like his therapist said – a strong goal was great motivation. What was a better motivation than getting a second date? Probably saving the galaxy, but… that was more of the end of a long quest if anything. It was the second time that day he felt like he was in the middle of some strange game, but in that moment all he could hope was that whatever player there was kept clicking the buttons and making things happen.

Until he got proof of that, he was just going to have to keep going.

#N7 2024 #Alistair Shepard #ramblinganthropologist's writing #1 down 1 to go!#Also does that count as him sassing me lol

3 notes · View notes

rainisawriter · 2 years ago

Text

I’ll Never Leave – Renato (PSF #19)

Ficography

Genre: Fluff

Prompt: Keeping someone safe (@flufftober)

Word Count: 2,983

Pairing: Reader x Renato

World: Dead by Daylight

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

You rolled your neck, breathing heavily as you stared at Ghostface from across the dropped pallet. You were the last survivor alive and he had been toying with you for about ten minutes. Despite chasing you while covered from head to toe, his breathing was completely normal.

He tilted his head to the side, expression hidden behind the mask, though you knew he was smirking as he flipped his knife a few times. “How much longer can you last?”

You wiped the sweat from your brow, glaring at him. “As long as I need to.”

He didn’t know it, but you had been lucky enough to pull Bill’s hatch perk before the match began. You could see it glowing yellow in the distance, so close yet so very far. You were already injured and exhausted. Did you have enough energy within you to reach it?

As soon as doubt started to cloud your mind, you clenched your fists and told those thoughts to fuck off. You’ve been forced into this damn cat-and-mouse game for years. You were a veteran by this point and there was no way in hell you were going to give up. At the very least, you wouldn’t give this smug bastard the satisfaction.

“What are you waiting for?” you taunted, holding out your arms. “I’m already injured, Ghostie. Come and get me… if you can.”

Ghostface chuckled, gripping his knife tightly. He did love the thrill of the hunt. “I’m gonna get you, little lamb.”

You scoffed, faking right before running left. He fell for it but corrected himself quickly and you switched directions as soon as he did. You looped him for a solid minute before he got tired of it, kicking the pallet hard so that it broke in half. The second his boot hit the wood, you darted toward the hatch, clutching your stomach.

The shirt you wore was soaked with blood from the wound, pain shooting through your body with every step. You didn’t have to glance over your shoulder to know that he was on your ass. The hatch was nearly within reach now.

A cry left your lips when his blade sliced across your back, knocking you down to the ground. Unfortunately for him, you fell right next to the hatch and, before he could grab you, you slipped into the inky blackness, successfully escaping the trial.

You exhaled as you felt your wounds healing on their own, the darkness surrounding you completely. The first thing you heard was Renato calling out your name before his tall body fell against your own, his arms around you. You blinked a few times, the survivor’s camp coming into focus.

“Welcome back, meu coração,” he breathed out, his thick accent bringing a smile to your face. You honestly had no clue what ‘meu coração’ meant because neither he nor his sister would tell you, but you adored the way he said it.

“Thank you,” you replied tiredly, patting his back.

Nea scowled at you before slapping a candy bar against David’s palm. He was grinning widely, clearly proud of himself. Currently, you were on a winning streak and the two were constantly betting on you, offering up snacks or med kits. Since Nea didn’t like you, she kept betting for you to lose and always tried to sabotage you when you were in trials together.

It didn’t take you long to realize what she was up to and you certainly weren’t going to let her be your downfall.

Renato pulled back, a smile on his lips. “That’s your twentieth win, meu coração! Ten more and you’ll beat Bill’s record.”

You glanced at the old man sitting in front of the fire, a cigarette between his lips. He didn’t seem worried or bothered by this because, to him, it wasn’t a competition. He was here to fight and survive, nothing more, nothing less. You felt much the same, though you had found another reason to survive.

Your eyes fell on Renato and he offered you a shy smile, hand finding the back of his neck. It was what he did when he was nervous, you had learned, and he did it a lot when he was with you.

“Are you hungry?” he asked

“Not really, no.” Your nose wrinkled at the thought of food, making him frown.

“Do you feel unwell?” His hand found your forehead. “You don’t feel warm.”

“I’m fine, just tired.”

He nodded in understanding, giving you a soft smile. “Go get some rest, meu coração. Sleep well.”

“Thanks, Ren.”

He bit his lip, butterflies fluttering in his stomach at the nickname. His dark eyes followed you until you disappeared into your tent. He wished he could make you feel better, but there was nothing that could heal against the entity’s grip. Whether you win or lose a trial, it’s always tough on the survivors.

You were a lot like Bill, pretending as if it didn’t bother you but he knew it did. It affected everyone, though he had noticed that it wasn’t the same for everyone. Some of the survivors were weaker to the entity’s influence, taking days to fully recover after a trial. Others were ready to go after just a couple of hours. You were part of the latter category, though he still worried for you.

Thalita nudged his shoulder, a smirk on her lips. “Daydreaming about them again, hm?”

His cheeks dusted with pink and he sent his older sister a scowl. “I was not.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” she snickered. “Honestly, I don’t know why you don’t just confess.”

“No way!” he replied quickly, shaking his head. “I could never.”

“Why not? It’s not like we’re going anywhere. Though,” her eyes flickered to Leon who was roasting marshmallows on the fire. “If you don’t confess soon, someone else might.”

Renato followed his sister’s gaze and frowned, feeling several negative emotions settling in his gut. He hadn’t failed to notice how close you and Leon were, though he couldn’t tell how you felt. He was confident that Leon liked you and the thought of him confessing to you scared him.

Leon was kind, friendly and selfless. He’s sacrificed himself many times just to give his team a chance at surviving and he never complained. Not to mention he was strong and attractive.

On the other hand, Renato was more reserved, struggling to properly interact with the others. He wasn’t willing to rush in and sacrifice himself for others, unless it was you or his sister, and he didn’t believe himself to be attractive at all. He was also self-conscious about his English, though you had reassured him numerous times that his English was fluent.

He had pictured himself confessing to you many times since the two of you first met, but he could never quite get up the nerve to do so. He was afraid of losing you. Not that you could go anywhere, you were all stuck in the entity’s realm, but he was afraid you wouldn’t want to be near him again.

It was honestly a tale as old as time itself, but he was okay with being a cliché so long as he had you by his side.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

A sharp sting against your wrist pulled you roughly from sleep and you scowled at the survivor mark etched into your skin. It was the entity’s way of keeping track of everyone and alerting them when it was their turn to enter the trial. It couldn’t have been more than five hours since your face-off with Ghostie and you still felt exhausted.

There was no getting out of it, though, not unless you wanted to spend time in the void, stuck to a hook for days on end. With a sigh, you pulled yourself out of the sleeping bag, stuffing your feet into your boots before stepping outside.

Most of the survivors had gone to bed, the campfire dwindling. The moon was full above, thin clouds floating around it like a blanket. It was hard to tell the seasons in this realm but the air was nippy, reminding you of autumn. The thought brought a smile to your face.

Your wrist burned again, smile twisting into a scowl. “Yeah, yeah. I’m going.”

You approached the shed that sat at the edge of the camp, stepping inside. Leon was standing at the locker closest to the door and he glanced at you, smiling warmly. You greeted him with a nod, approaching the locker beside him and holding up your wrist. The blue orb on the door scanned it before the lock clicked.

The locker opened up, the inside bigger than the ones in trials. The items you owned sat on a table while the walls displayed the blood web and the items you could buy. The timer had begun to tick down, indicating that everyone had arrived.

You didn’t bother looking to see who else had been chosen, you just focused on choosing your items. You decided on taking a toolbox with a brand new part, but something stopped you. Your gut was telling you to choose the med kit and you grabbed it seconds before the dark fog filled the room, encasing everything.

Cold drops of rain pelted your body and you knew what realm you had landed in before your eyes even opened – Mother’s Dwelling. It was your favorite realm because it was peaceful, easy to hide in, and because it always rained. You could only hope the killer wasn’t too annoying.

“I swear if it’s Ghostface again,” you muttered under your breath, beginning to walk through the forest, sticks snapping beneath your feet.

There was a generator in front of you but you didn’t touch it. The beginning of the match was important because you had no idea who the killer was. They always listened for the annoying grating of metal as the generators started up and that would determine who got caught first.

Your heart rate increased, the beating in your ears steadily getting louder as the killer approached. You darted behind a thick tree, squatting down so you could peer over a thick bush. The forest was dark, thick black mist covering the floor. Your eyes narrowed as the killer came around the corner, heading straight toward the gen.

It was the hillbilly.

You bit your lip to hold back your groan, fingers curling around your pant leg. Of all the killers, why him? Granted, he’s not as difficult as the cannibal, but he was still a pain in the ass because that chainsaw was painful as hell.

‘Looks like I’m going stealth this game,’ you thought, watching as he sauntered away to check the other gens. Once your heart rate returned to normal, you approached the gen and got to work connecting wires and tightening screws.

You heard hurried footsteps behind you and you glanced over your shoulder, eyes widening. Renato smiled at you when your eyes met his, but it was a weary one.

“Meu coração,” he breathed out, coming to a stop beside you. “You’re back in a trial already… are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you assured him only to connect the wrong wires and cause the Gen to blow up in your face. “Shit.”

His slender fingers curled around your wrist, tugging you up and away from the gen just as your heart rate increased again. You could hear the chainsaw revving in the distance, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end. You shoved Renato to the side and he cried out, losing his balance and hitting the ground with you on top of him.

The hillbilly darted through the spot you had just been standing, the chainsaw cutting through the air. He let out a frustrated cry and you scrambled to your feet, only one thing on your mind – protect Renato at all costs. You would do anything to keep him safe, even if it meant sacrificing yourself to do so.

“Oi, shit stain,” you taunted, stepping away from Renato who was still on the ground, watching you with wide eyes.

The hillbilly slowly turned toward you, glowing eyes narrowed.

You smirked at him. “Your aim still sucks. You should consider asking that leather-faced bastard for some tips. He’s way better than you.”

A loud, angry cry left him as he lifted the chainsaw above his head, revving it repeatedly. You turned on your heel, darting away with him right behind you. He tried to rush at you with the chainsaw but you darted to the left at the last second, just barely managing to dodge it.

You ran through a pallet, thinking you had enough time to drop it and gain some distance but you misjudged it. He struck you hard with his hammer and you cried out, clutching your shoulder as you ran.

You were about to vault into the killer shack when Nea appeared on the other side of the window, a smirk on her lips. She shoved you backward as hard as she could and you stumbled back. The hillbilly grabbed your injured shoulder, bringing the hammer down again. Your body crumbled, pain filling you.

He grabbed you by the back of your shirt, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You struggled to free yourself but he had been lucky enough to get iron grasp, making it much harder to break free. You glanced over your shoulder, realizing he was bringing you toward the shack, intent on putting you in the basement.

Was he going to camp the hook?

As he stepped into the doorway, the pallet was thrown down, stunning him. You fell from his shoulder, stumbling forward. Renato grabbed your hand and ran toward the other side of the shack, keeping you in front of him since you were already injured.

“This way, meu coração,” he whispered, lightly pushing you toward the corner of the map.

You could hear the chainsaw revving and the hillbilly yelling. Renato bit his lip, acting quickly. Just before the killer came through the door, he shoved you hard against the log wall that surrounded the map. You winced as it dug into your back, aggravating the wound but that was quickly forgotten when the tall male pressed his body against your own, shielding you from view.

His fingers found the nap of your neck, warm breath on your ear as he whispered, “Please try to be quiet, meu coração.”

You buried your face in his tank top to muffle your groans of pain, fingers curling around the black material. You could hear his heart racing within his chest, the sound interlacing with your own until they became one.

You could hear the hillbilly’s heavy breathing as he searched behind trees and in bushes, trying to find you but his eyesight had never been the greatest and he certainly wasn’t the smartest.

“I’ll protect you,” breathed Renato, his hand coming to the back of your head, his other arm slipping around your waist. His voice was trembling and he was obviously scared, but you knew he meant every word. “I swear I’ll protect you, meu coração.”

You chuckled softly, finally feeling as if you could breathe when the hillbilly gave up the search to check the gens. You pulled back just enough to look up at him, adoring the way his tanned cheeks had turned pink. “Isn’t that the same thing I said to you in our first trial together?”

“You remember,” he smiled, offering you a nod. “You’ve saved me so many times since I arrived here. Now, it’s my turn.”

“You can start by healing me,” you joked, giving him a half-smirk when he sent you an embarrassed look.

“Sorry!”

You kneeled down, allowing him to lean over you, his hands hovering above the wound on the back of your shoulder. With the entity’s magic, you felt the wound begin to close, wincing at the strange sensation. You’ve been healed thousands of times, but you didn’t think you would ever get used to the feeling. Rather than the wound healing, it felt more like…

Well, it felt as if time was reversing itself, as if someone had pressed rewind on just the wound. It wasn’t painful, perse, but it was a strange and uncomfortable feeling. It was unnatural like everything else in this damn realm.

“There,” he spoke softly, stepping back so you could stand again.

“Thanks, love.”

The words slipped out on their own accord but both of you tensed up because of them. It just felt so natural to say it to him that you hadn’t given it any thought. He knew that it was a common thing in some parts of the world to say to people that you had no romantic interest in.

He knew that, yet his heart raced within his chest, face burning. If it hadn’t been for the lack of ear-piercing pounding in his ears, he would have thought the hillbilly had returned.

You frowned as you took in his tense posture. “Sorry, it just slipped out. If it makes you uncomfortable -“

“No!” He replied quickly, holding out his hand. “I-I like it… a lot.”

You hummed, amusement dancing in your eyes. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“A deal? What do you mean?”

“I’ll start calling you love if you tell me what meu coração means.”

Renato bit his lip as he considered this. “If… if we both survive this trial, I promise I’ll tell you.”

You hummed in thought, ignoring Nea’s scream as she was taken out by the chainsaw. It was just deserts, in your opinion. You smiled, slipping your hand into his. “You better stay close to me, Ren, so I can keep you safe.”

His eyes sparkled as he nodded, giving your hand a squeeze. “I won’t ever leave your side, meu coração.”

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

-> General Taglist: @asterhaze, @mrskenpachizaraki

#flufftober2023 #day 19 #dead by daylight #renato lyra #reader insert #dbd #video games #fanfiction #fanfics #RFO - PSF #RFO - PSF23 #rains ficography #RFO - video games

20 notes · View notes

twilightmalachite · 2 years ago

Text

PORTRAIT - Epilogue 2

Author: Akira

Characters: Akiomi, Makoto

Translator: Mika Enstars

"Oh, that was a slip of the tongue there. Please keep that off the record."

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Winter

Location: Reception Room

Akiomi: As an aside, C-kun was transferred to another agency afterwards as per request of his parents again—So I have no details on what happened afterwards.

However, given he is still active as a model overseas means that he likely continued to achieve a level of success.

Although he has a bad mouth, he is beautiful, and a very hard worker. Rather, it is because he is always giving it his all at what he loves is why he is so beautiful, isn’t it?

He has always shimmered, like a refined jewel.

Regrettably, however, B-kun quit modeling around the age I myself had quit.

It was quite the shame. He had been called a child prodigy, a genius that you come upon only once per decade.

He seemed to have been struggling back then. I feel it was simply unfortunate. Modeling shouldn’t have to be something you have to endure and kill your heart to do.

Oh, that was a slip of the tongue there. Please keep that off the record.

👤: [—He truly has gone through a lot of hardship.]

Akiomi: Yes? Ahaha, you know who it is even if I conceal his name, don’t you? Right, yes, B-kun is Yuuki Makoto.

However, as I talked about his family situation amongst other personal matters, I ask you to not mention his name while writing the article.

It appears he has been marketing himself through a cheerful lens right now, so it would be best not to attribute any negative representations to him.

…Well, although I do doubt this interview will ever make it to an article.

👤: [That boy is truly an unfortunate, poor kid.]

[He had a hard and painful life thanks to his parents being good-for-nothings.]

Akiomi: Fufu. The parents of all three of those children were good-for-nothings in their own different ways.

Parents who fully neglected their child in the name of freedom, parents who used love as an excuse to treat their child like a doll—

I do have some sympathy for B-kun’s mother, however—She was a single mother living in poverty. She was too caught up in her own struggles to notice what her son had been going through.

Still, she should have been more proactive. She should have thought of her own child and supported him, even to the detriment of everything else.

After his father had been imprisoned due to misconduct, his mother had been so busy trying to make ends meet that she had put the matter on the back burner.

And so out of passivity, he was let to continue his modeling work.

As a result, B-kun was left carrying the dream of his father who was no longer by his side, a career he himself did not want—He had no choice but to endure and persevere.

That is what wore him thin. There is nothing more stressful than being forced to do something you do not wish to do.

Although currently, he appears to be doing what he truly wishes to do.

But this can be said about each family. I wish they had thought just a little more about their child’s feelings.

I’m just another person now, however. There’s nothing I can say or do.

But at least, because I had let go of my hand halfway through at that time…

I want to do everything I can for those kids. Not as a senior in their career, but as I am now as a teacher who guides them.

I’ll advise them if they are struggling with their career path. I’ll teach them if there is anything they do not understand.

I’ll never be able to be a part of their family, not that I have a reason to want to, but…

Akiomi: Even a chance acquaintance is caused by a connection made in the past life.[1] Now that I have met them, I’d like to continue to be involved at least to where I won’t be hated, as opposed to ignoring them.

And I could lighten the weight of those heavy burdens carried by those children, even if only a little…

I believe that I won’t regret the life that I had lived, either.

👤: [……]

[…I envy you, Kunugi Akiomi.]

Akiomi: Ahaha. C-kun once told me that back then, too.

I had believed I had lived an ordinary and dull life with not much to show, compared to those like Sagami Jin.

However, I seem to have been living a life to be proud of, enough for others to envy me over.

Makoto: —Kunugi-senpai?

What did you need me for? Umm, am I here to be lectured about how I’m focusing too much on work lately to where my grades are dropping?

Akiomi: Ah, Yuuki-kun. Thanks for taking the time to come here.

I’m not here to scold you, so please, rest assured. While I wish you could focus on your studies, it's impossible for everything to be done with perfection.

Just as your parents were unable to balance their work and raising you.

Like how the stress from raising a child led to them causing trouble and being put in prison, right?

Makoto: ? My mom’s never been arrested, though?

Makoto: Although my dad was, he’d been in prison up until recently. That wouldn’t give a good reputation though, so I’ve just been disclosing that I come from a single parent family…

I can’t even tell my own friends… Not even to Akehoshi-kun, who’d understand more than anyone else.

[ ☆ ]

← prev | story directory | next →

The original proverb here is “even two strangers faintly hitting their sleeves on the street comes from a connection made in a past life”. It essentially speaks to how every even the smallest of meetings have a deeper meaning to it.

#akiomi kunugi #makoto yuuki #portrait #scout #translation

6 notes · View notes

jodilin65 · 7 months ago

Text

And now the ball is rolling toward hopefully—hopefully—getting my energy back and my nose cleared. Now that the new insurance has kicked in, I messaged Rhonda on the portal to ask for a referral to the ENT she recommended and also the first pulmonologist I saw. Tom and I both agreed it would be good to go back to him because he's not only close but also has all my records. He's the one who first diagnosed me with sleep apnea, so he has a definite head start on understanding what's going on.

Unfortunately, he's going to want me to do an out-of-home sleep study, but I'll do what I need to if it’s going to help me in the end. He told me when I saw him a little over a year ago that if I gave up on the CPAP and changed my mind later, I’d have to go to a sleep lab. That’s definitely going to be tough because, first, there’s my schedule to consider. We’ll want to time it for when I’m at the end of my day. Plus, I’m not used to sleeping without my sound machine. I could probably put a foam earplug in my good ear, but that’s about it since they’ll be monitoring me remotely and need to hear what’s going on. I think they’ll be watching me too, which will definitely feel weird and nothing I’m used to.

All I have are nightgowns that I wear around the house but not to bed. I sleep in just a g-string because I don’t like how nightgowns tend to bunch and twist around me. Knowing it’s likely to be chillier in there than I keep it in the house most of the time, I’d like to get some pajamas for the occasion. It’s definitely going to be tough because I’ll have the double whammy of having to give up my favorite sleeping position, and second, I’ll have to get used to the CPAP. Something’s got to give, though, because my brain and body can’t take this much longer. I’m waking up every fucking hour and spending almost all the time exhausted.

I know part of it is age, and maybe the Levo is connected to it as well, but according to all my research, the bulk of the problem seems to be the sleep apnea. Since I’m not going to be able to lose any more weight without damn near starving myself, I’ll have to work around it. I think the fatter I got, the more it became a problem. Not always, but sleep apnea is usually connected to weight. While I’m not overly big, I’m still a little heavy. I’d probably be fine if I lost 20 lbs, but that’s like asking me to lose 100. If I could manage to get my thyroid within range, that might make a difference, but I don’t know. Most older people are fat, and they don’t all have thyroid/med issues.

I don’t expect the pulmonologist, the study, or getting the CPAP back to take too long, but I doubt I’ll be able to get into the ENT before June if I had to guess.

I was still up when Tom got up this morning because I was afraid to go to sleep, knowing it would be a disaster. He asked if I had any visions like I often do on New Year’s, but I didn’t sense any real change anytime soon. I swear I picked up more about the mystery girl than us, but I don’t know if it means anything or not. Not sure how much I should share or where because I don’t want to freak anyone out. It’s nothing bad—though I’d be tremendously worried if I had a bad dream about her. I have been known to have nightmares about people I’ve never met face-to-face and then learned something bad happened to them even if it wasn’t like in the dream. The only thing I sensed was that she might not get the job she interviewed for, and something about a supermarket. I don’t know—maybe she’s meant to work there instead, or maybe a close friend of hers is going to start working at one. I don’t know what it means, if anything at all. I thought of telling her about this directly, but again, I don’t know how she might react, and I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.

The only other thing going on is that I’ve been lightheaded, but Tom and I are pretty sure it’s because my ear needs to be cleaned. I’ve been oiling it, and I’m going to have him blast it tomorrow with the water thingy to see if any dead skin clears out.

Anyway, after five hours of pathetically shitty sleep, I was up for a while, then napped for a bit, and then got up to do some cooking and cleaning. I golfed with Tom and played with the rat as usual too.

1 note · View note

j-graysonlibrary · 2 years ago

Text

Silverfalls Court Chapter 3

Title: Silverfalls Court

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 50K

Genres: drama, suspense, who-done-it, LGBT+

Available on: Kobo and my website

Synopsis: A young girl, lost in the bliss of her first relationship, will do anything in the pursuit of what she believes is true love—even sneaking out of her house in the dead of night. Unfortunately, she is met by someone she didn’t quite expect. Her fight or flight instincts kick in but she in no match for the killer in the woods.

And her death won’t be the only one.

The once peaceful and quaint neighborhood of Silverfalls Court is thrown into chaos and upheaval when bodies keep showing up in the woods. When it becomes apparent that the murderer must be one of them, suspicions grow thick and trust is shattered.

Some, like Lisa-Marie Castel, want to play detective and solve the case on their own while others, like Dominique Pulmer, want to keep their heads down and wait for things to return to normal. Some might even wish to capitalize on the bizarre nature of the story while those who have been personally affected are left to pick up the broken pieces of their lives amidst the chaos.

Full chapter 3 under the cut:

3. Block Party

“That’s a little tight,” Dominique complained as the man in front of him attempted to tie his tie for him. “I’ll do it, actually.” He pulled his hands off and adjusted the tie so it looked neat and kempt but was no longer choking him.

“Sorry I tie things too tightly,” his partner, Collin, huffed. He was already dressed up in his costume—something Dominique wasn’t familiar with but it was apparently from a video game. He’d even had a design shaved into the side of his head to complete the look. A shooting star.

He looked good—though Collin always looked good. He was far more particular about his appearance than Dominique was and his fashion sense was one of the first things about him that caught his eye.

“So…what exactly am I again?” Dom asked as he straightened out the lapels on the white coat. He could guess that he was some sort of scientist but other than that, he was lost.

“Dr. Gozen,” Collin said as he passed his hands against the sides of his hair—checking to make sure everything was exactly as he wanted it. He peeked at the wall mirror to triple check and smiled at himself. “You’re the boyfriend of Miraki…my character.”

“There’s a video game with actual boyfriends?” He was doubtful and Collin’s face gave it away before he even answered. “It’s just your assumption, isn’t it?”

“Well…most of the fanbase thinks it.” Collin chuckled. “If you were out, I’d snap a picture of us and post it on my blog.”

“Please don’t.”

“That’s not the only reason,” he defended, “Even if I posted a photo of just myself I know a bunch of white piss-babies would be flooding my comment section with shit like ‘Miraki isn’t black, you can’t cosplay, blah blah blah’.” Collin rolled his eyes dramatically at the imagined comment. “But, if I posted us both the racist shit would be joined by homophobic shit too. And, like I said, you aren’t out so it’s not fair to you.”

Despite the fact he said Dom wasn’t ‘out’ it wasn’t necessarily true. He was out to his family and some of his close friends but not his co-workers or most of his neighbors. Though, after this, he felt it would be pretty obvious to everyone at the Halloween party.

Which reminded him… “I didn’t even want to go to this party.”

Collin laughed before walking closer and adjusting his coat. He led his hands down his arms and took his hands before squeezing them. “You need to go out and do stuff sometimes. Everyone here seems nice too—especially Lisa-Marie. She invited me.”

“I know.” Dom held back his groan. She’d been trying to get him to participate in her block parties since he moved in three years ago.

If he hadn’t started dating Collin and if Collin hadn’t introduced himself to every neighbor he met then Dom would never be in his current situation.

He didn’t hate his neighbors or anything but he just preferred to keep to himself. And his private life was private for a reason. The generational gap between himself and Collin was very obvious in such situations.

“You talk to some of your neighbors, don’t be so grumpy.” Collin leaned forward and kissed him. “It’ll be fun.”

Dom wanted to argue. The only neighbors he talked to were the young couple who just moved in beside him, and two twenty-something year olds who lived alone in the cul-de-sac. In total, there were four people he’d had more than a couple of passing conversations with and the rest he was simple acquaintances with.

He scratched the back of his bald head and sighed. “I’ll…try to have fun.”

“Yay,” Collin rejoiced and gave him another kiss.

“You can’t do that outside though.”

“I know, I know.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t want the old Vietnam vet to have a heart attack or anything.”

Dom laughed a little. “Mr. Karowitz isn’t going to be there. And before you bring her up, Mrs. Winter is staying in for the night too.”

“So what’s the problem?” Collin pouted. “If there aren’t any old folks whose heart conditions I have to consider, are there blatant homophobes about or something?”

“I don’t know,” Dom answered honestly. He assumed everyone had some type of prejudice whether they were forward with it or not. Erring on the side of safety was always his course of action. “I haven’t asked each of my neighbors how they feel about the homosexuals.”

His boyfriend cackled. “Well don’t say it like that. Isn’t Carson openly gay though? Does anyone have issues with him?”

It was true that his neighbor on the other side was a single, openly gay man about Collin’s age. He was more flamboyant than Dom would ever dream to be and, as far as he was aware, no one in the neighborhood except for Mr. Karowitz had made any comments about it.

Though that didn’t mean no one was thinking it.

“He’ll be at the party. You can ask him,” Dom said and stepped away. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and shook his head. No one would know what he was dressed up as. He certainly wasn’t going to say he was dressed as a video game character—he’d just blame Collin if anyone brought it up.

“I bet he’s dressed up too,” Collin mused aloud as they headed toward the door.

Dom followed behind him and admired his figure for the last time while he could still get away with it. Even if no one in the neighborhood cared that he was gay, he still felt it was too personal a thing to readily disclose. He knew, to people like Collin and Carson, that keeping in the closet—in any capacity—was often seen as being ashamed but Dom really wasn’t.

When he was little he was ashamed, absolutely, but he accepted himself now. If he didn’t, he’d still be married to Shauna and they’d be raising Bianca together—probably somewhere else. Hell, they’d probably have one or two more kids for him to hide behind in denial.

Granted, he loved Bianca and cherished every weekend he got to spend with her but she was an inescapable reminder of just how long it took him to admit to himself that he was not straight. Luckily, Shauna never hated him for it and they were still good friends but Dom wasn’t blind to how bad the situation could have been.

His mother still loved him. His ex-wife was his best friend. He still got to see his daughter and spend time with her. It could be a hell of a lot worse.

But he did think there was a big difference between what things were like when he was young and what things were like with Collin. Sure, he still got bullied for being effeminate and not liking girls but there was a more visible gay existence that he could see ahead of him in life. That kind of reassurance hadn’t been there for Dom which was why he forced himself into a marriage to begin with.

It was when he couldn’t take it anymore that he had to tell Shauna. Collin never forced himself to date a woman and he would bet money that Carson hadn’t either.

Speaking of Carson, the young man met them on the front lawn as he left his house about the same time. He was dressed in a robe of some sort with a large, pointy hat. At least Dom could tell what he was supposed to be.

“Is that Alphegor the Disillusioned?” Collin asked as they stepped onto the street.

“Good eye,” Carson responded with a wink.

So much for knowing what he was, Dom thought to himself. He glanced back at the other houses in the cul-de-sac but no one else was coming out. They were already at the block party or they hadn’t left yet.

Collin and Carson chatted about their costumes as they walked which Dom barely paid any attention to. It wasn’t until they reached the first cul-de-sac that the conversation tapered off.

The entire area was decked out in Halloween decorations and large games and fair-like stations were propped up along everyone’s yards.

Dom reminded himself how grateful he was not to be in Lisa-Marie’s immediate vicinity.

The party was already in full swing and music blasted from club-grade speakers. Dom noted that Brandon Castel, Lisa-Marie’s husband, was manning the DJ booth and looked like he was a little too into it. Some of the kids ran about though most were old enough not to cause any concern. The one young kid was closely followed by his mother. They lived in the house adjacent to Dom’s though he didn’t know them well.

The Dicksons. Gary, his very young wife Kimberly, and their little boy Hunter. He was probably too young to properly enjoy the party that Lisa-Marie was throwing but there was sure to be a bowl of candy for him to indulge in somewhere.

When Dom looked back over to his boyfriend and Carson, he noticed that Diana Hajeed had also joined them. Like many of the adults, she wasn’t dressed up as anything; she was just wearing a nice pair of jeans and a flowing, black blouse.

Diana lived alone and was closest with Carson though Dom truly had no idea what they talked about. Other than being the same age, they had no common ground. Diana was dedicated to her law school pursuits and Carson…didn’t seem to do anything.

“Is that at your school?” Diana asked, letting Dom know he’d missed a portion of their conversation.

“No,” Collin answered, “Dom and I are at Jackson. That girl and all the teens here go to Sherman I think.”

“What’s this about?” Dom decided to ask and stepped closer.

“The murdered girl,” Carson said with a hand on his hip. “We thought maybe you two would know about it.”

“Nope,” Dom responded, “Though some kids have been talking about it.”

“He just yells and tells them to get back to work,” Collin added with a snicker.

“Are you still doing the student teaching thing in his classroom?” Diana tilted her head to the side.

It was how they met—Dom worked as a civics teacher at Jackson Valley High school and, last year, Collin had been assigned to his classroom to help as a student teacher. He was a lot younger than Dom’s usual type but he’d been so charming and sweet that he swept Dom off of his feet before he’d even realized what happened.

“Not anymore,” Collin said, “I switched classes since we’re…” he trailed off and looked to Dom as if to ask for permission.

“They know,” he told him.

“Oh. Well…yeah.”

“Still…” Diana switched topics back, “You’d think the kids that knew the girl would be a little more…I dunno? Broken up about it? Seems everyone here is having a great time.”

“That’s cold,” Carson agreed. “I heard the Burns’ daughter was like…really good friends with her too. But look at her now.”

Against his better judgment, Dom looked along with them at the teenagers who were grouped together. Victoria Burns was a girl who already had a lot of rumors surrounding her. Her short hair and blunt attitude helped keep people talking—the worst Dom had heard was that she had gotten into physical altercations at school.

“Should we really be gossiping about teenagers?” Collin, thankfully, stopped the conversation. “I mean…maybe they’re just trying to relax after something so scary.”

“I hope that’s the case,” Diana stated with a frown, “I just worry because of how I’ve heard some of their parents talk, you know? Kids soak that kind of blasé attitude up—even at their age.”

“Well let’s go snoop on the parents then,” Carson suggested with a chuckle.

“Oooh, I’m going too,” Collin quickly jumped on board. Though, before leaving, he turned back to Dom and said in a whisper, “I’ll make sure they don’t get into too much trouble. Don’t worry.”

It was funny—when Collin said not to worry it just served to make Dom worry more somehow. He shook his head, trying to mentally wash his hands of the situation. They were all adults and were responsible for themselves. They weren’t his students. He could leave them alone.

He passed by Mr. and Mrs. Jung who had neither of their kids with them but were watching the group of teens like hawks. Miss Rosello had her two youngest by her side while the Burns were all over the place. Dom had no interest in any of them—he had his sights set on his other neighbors.

Lamar and Susan Vick were both in their early twenties, recently married, and, up until the murder, were the talk of the neighborhood. Even in the year 2004 it was still strange for some people to see an interracial couple, Dom guessed. Though their differences didn’t end at their skin color—everything about them was the polar opposite of the other.

Susan was petite, pale, and wore dark gothic clothing twenty-four seven while Lamar had dark skin, was incredibly fit, and mostly wore athletic attire. He worked as a personal trainer while she worked at some alternative clothing store in the mall. Singularly, they each gave off a very different feeling but, when standing next to each other, they often left people confused.

They were both nice people though. Dom liked Lamar especially since he was the only other black man in the entire neighborhood. There were no words spoken between them about it but he knew a mutual understanding existed between them that they had to look out for one another. It wasn’t too different with how felt with Carson being the only other gay man in the neighborhood.

Lamar was standing by himself, dressed in a hoodie and jeans while looking over one of Lisa-Marie’s elaborate decorations. It was his first time experiencing the woman’s zest for Halloween so it was understandable.

“Yeah, she goes all out for it,” Dom said as he approached him.

“Oh, hey, Mr. Pulmer. I didn’t expect to see you here.” Lamar stood up straighter and regarded him with a warm smile. He truly was a big guy—one of his arms was probably as big around as Dom’s entire torso. “Did you bring your daughter?”

“No, her mother has her,” he explained, “I got conned into coming.”

Lamar laughed. “I was gonna say…doesn’t seem like your kind of scene.”

He could say that again. Dom shook his head. “It honestly doesn’t seem like yours either.”

With a shrug he responded, “Susie was curious. Plus, Lisa-Marie is one of the few people who ever just walked up to her and started talkin’. Most people get scared off by her clothes and piercings.”

Dom could see how. He could also perfectly imagine Lisa-Marie strutting right up to Susan and talking to her about her bug collection or something. Thinking about it that way, he could even see them being friends.

“Where is she? Susan?” Dom checked around the immediate area. The young woman was nowhere to be found.

“Not sure but I’m guessing she’s having fun.” Lamar’s eyes went back to the witch made of wicker before them. He tapped the overly exaggerated nose and asked, “You think she makes all this stuff?”

“No idea.”

Dom heard some commotion so he looked up, hoping it wasn’t Collin and them. Instead, he saw the patriarch of the Burns family talking to Miss Rosello and her kids. He seemed a little distressed so it kept Dom’s attention.

“Wonder what that’s about,” he mumbled.

A woman in all black walked over to the group and he quickly recognized her. “There’s Susie,” Lamar said, confirming it.

Susan shared a few words with Jason Burns before returning to Lamar’s side. Dom wondered what she was dressed up as—if she was dressed up at all since her outfit simply looked like her regular attire. He didn’t focus on that for long, however, when he saw the slight frown on her face.

“What was that about?” Lamar asked.

“Mr. Burns was asking if I’d seen his oldest daughter,” Susan answered, “I saw some of the teens heading out for the woods. He looked…bothered by that.”

“Probably because of the murder,” Dom suggested, “Out that way was where the body was found.”

“Oh, right.” Lamar sighed. “Think the kids know about that though?”

“It was their classmate…and friend.”

“That makes sense,” Susan spoke with a sigh. “I hope they don’t get up to anything.”

Dom almost laughed. He’d left one conversation full of gossip about teenagers and ended up in another somehow. He supposed it was hard to avoid given the murder scandal but he still craved something—anything—else to talk about.

The sudden pause in the music captured his attention instead—in fact it captured everyone’s attention and they all turned to look at the stage in front of the Castel’s yard. Lisa-Marie stepped onto it in her full-blown princess gown. She curtsied, laughed a little to herself, and then held a microphone up to her lips.

“Good evening everyone, I hope you’re having a spoooooky time,” she chuckled again before continuing, “I just want to suggest that we not take the party into the woods if we can help it, okay? I’ve got plenty of games and snacks for everyone in the area and this party is going to last well into the night. If you need anything, come find me. I’ll be around. Have fun!”

The music immediately started up again and everyone went right back to what they were doing before. Dom knew the parents of the missing kids must have pushed Lisa-Marie into making the announcement since she seemed a little over-the-top with it.

Personally, he thought the kids had the right idea. He, too, wanted to ditch the party.

Dom excused himself from Lamar and Susan as he walked about in hopes of finding his boyfriend and the others again. There wasn’t a lot of space to cover but, because of how Lisa-Marie had set everything up, some sections of the road and people’s lawns turned into a maze.

When he finally found the trio, they were by Hailey Burns who appeared to be talking their ears off. It was definitely karma for how much they were snooping.

He met Collin’s eyes and gestured with his head back toward the direction of his house. His boyfriend immediately lit up, excused himself, and rushed over to join him.

“You saved me,” Collin breathed in relief.

Dom shook his head and smiled. “Learn your lesson about trying to ask housewives for gossip?”

Collin rolled his eyes but a smile was pulling at his lips as well. Dom tapped the back of his arm before they started their trek back to his house.

That had, hopefully, been enough socialization for Collin to last the rest of the year. It certainly had been for Dom.

#silverfalls court #my novel #writeblr #lgbt writers

1 note · View note