#matching cufflinks . . matching everything . . gay .

[time-woods]

bigshot era designs

[sleepless-in-southlands]

I’m Calling Your Bluff (And Calling You Mine)

Ao3

Summary: It was a bit hypocritical to have rules in regards to a business that existed almost entirely on the wrong side of the law, but even in a place as depraved as Heremita, common sense could be found. Don't get too attached to your business rivals, for example. Too bad Scar had never been one for too much sense. Content: AU- Mob bosses, pining (kinda), s7 mayor race but make it gay mob bosses basically; blood, violence, threats, gunshot wound, scars, codependency, homoromanticism, kissing, obligatory characters not CCs Ships: Whatever the Fuck mumscarian has going on (def romo mumbo/scar, everything else is Very fruity and up to interpretation), platonic Scar and Bdubs Notes: Part one of the Bloody Fruits au

~

    The casino was as well-lit as ever, chandeliers of gold spilling aureate light down upon the finely dressed gamblers that filled its halls as they traded away dirty-money riches and purloined treasures for a moment of thrill. Flashing greens and blues were exchanged for cheap chips and lavish liquors, a night of expense that most of the players could afford to lose.

    Scar took in the sight indifferently, leaning on his deceptively delicate cane as he loitered just past the building’s foyer. Most looking for an audience with the opulent casino’s owner need to schedule far in advance, the man both busy and unsociable. Scar was not most people.

    He gave a small wave to the eyes in the sky that had been tracking his movements since the moment he had appeared on the street before the establishment. They blended into the ceiling like a charm, glazed purple domes tricking most into believing they were little more than colourful decor, but Scar made a habit of knowing when he was being watched.

    Soon enough, Scar was being approached by a man no one else would notice, dressed to be little more than an extension of his surroundings. In a pressed red suit with amethyst cufflinks and tie-clip, he looked rich enough to belong but not dazzling enough to stick-out.

    “Mr. Chronos.” His voice was smooth and refined, paired with a smile that was just a smidge too sharp to be genial. “You’re not expected.”

    “Mr. Penemue.” Scar replied in a matching tone. “I’m not, no! I was just strolling by and thought I should pop in for a chat along the way.”

    Grian’s smile didn’t falter. “Mr. Eris is a busy man, he doesn’t typically see those without an appointment.”

    “Oh, but he’ll see me, won’t he?”

    For that, Scar was rewarded with the edge of the other man’s lips quirking up by the smallest fraction in genuine amusement. “I suppose he can fit you in. Follow me.”

    Scar allowed himself to be led through the main room of the casino, sparing glances of idle curiosity to the tables they passed. Every dealer’s move was practiced and precise, every card that moved through their hands shining as they hit the table. Scar’s shops were doing fine, and the casino business had never been his scene, but in the halls of the End Crystal Scar had to admit he could see the appeal.

    A drab door marked ‘employees only’ near the back brought the two of them to a well-furnished waiting room. The late hours left it empty as they crossed the room, halting before a set of solid dark oak doors.

    Scar turned as they stopped, unsurprised to find he was being offered a plain- and mostly certainly unarmed- cane. “You know the rules, Mr. Chronos.”

    “Don’t trust me?”

    Grian’s smile had reverted back to the fixed and never-changing one he had greeted Scar with, though the look in his eyes had become hard. “When it comes to Mr. Eris’s safety, I trust no one.”

    “Oh, Grian, relax! It’s just me.” Scar handed over his cane, accepting the replacement as his was carefully placed in the ‘umbrella’ stand that did its named job poorly. “You can call him by his first name.”

    Grian pulled open one of the doors without response, allowing Scar to enter before him. Scar rolled his eyes in amusement, though he appreciated Grian’s vigilance. People like Scar didn’t make it very long without people like Grian, after all.

    The End Crystal’s office was as elegantly put together as the rest of the casino, but it lacked the gaudy comforts that convinced its patrons to empty their pockets. The crimson curtains were drawn on the window behind its owner, the streetlights streaming through casting him in a bloody hue. He looked up from the papers he had been marking as the door opened, one eyebrow raising. “A bit late for an appointment, isn’t it?”

    “Apologies, Mumbo,” The door clicked shut before Grian walked past Scar, taking his proper place at the right of Mumbo. Though his stance remained guarded, as though ready to strike at any moment, his shoulders relaxed and his faux smile fell, “but you know how he is.”

    Mumbo chuckled as he sat back, letting his pen fall against his desk. His outfit, a black suit and red tie, was a perfect mirror of Grian’s- or, more accurately, Grian’s outfit was a perfect mirror of Mumbo’s. In place of Grian’s amethysts, Mumbo’s cuffs sported moustache silhouettes outlined in red, a simpler representation of the man’s own facial hair. The design was not all that threatening if you asked Scar; which, in all fairness, made its notoriety all the more impressive.

    “I do indeed.” Mumbo replied to Grian, gesturing at Scar. “Well then? What has brought us the pleasure of your company today, Mr. Chronos?”

    “You South territory folks are much too formal.” Scar complained, dropping into one of the plush chairs that sat before Mumbo’s desk. “Please, it’s Scar. And I just wanted to see how your campaign efforts were coming along. Decided to drop-out yet?”

    “Hardly.” Mumbo said with a self-assured smile. “For every fortune won on my floor, another dozen are lost. There are a good number of people who would trade their vote for their debt.”

    Scar settled his borrowed cane across his lap. “Bought loyalties aren’t really long-term, you know. At the Glass Empire, we actually secure lasting alliances.”

    “Mine need only last til the election.” Mumbo responded easily, glancing at Grian. “The South only needs each other.”

    “A dangerous philosophy.” Scar’s grip tightened imperceptibly on the cane’s handle. “Isolated nations always fall in the end.”

    “Everything falls in the end.” Grian replied. Scar’s eyes flicked over to his, Grian returning his gaze unflinchingly as Mumbo chuckled once more.

    “Well put, Grian.” Mumbo tilted his head to the side. “But you sound as though you have a purpose to your words, do you not? If you are looking to secure another partnership for your Empire… well, the South would be willing to review the compatibility of our organizations.”

    Scar’s grip loosened. Tightened again. He flashed his hosts his most winning smile as he pushed himself back to his feet. “You move so fast, Mumbo! My visit today is solely personal, not for business.” 

    Mumbo leaned forward, placing his elbows on his desk and creating a bridge out of his hands for his chin to rest on. “We could make this personal as well.”

    Scar looked directly at Mumbo, finding him looking back with an expectant curiosity. As the moment stretched, Mumbo’s smile returned, the sharp edges of his teeth just barely showing. He was waiting for something, and the longer Scar waited with him, the more sure he became he was getting it. Like a game.

    Out of the corner of his eye, Scar just barely caught Grian’s shoulders once again tensing. Always on his guard. Like a trap.

    “Delightful as ever to see you, Mumbo.” Scar said finally, forcing the moment to an end, bowing his head once to both Mumbo and Grian. “The same to you, Grian.”

    Pleasantries addressed, Scar made his departure, resisting the urge to turn back for one last look at the two as he left. Even as he retrieved his own cane and made his way to the casino’s exit, he kept his eyes forward, this time registering none of the risk and reward and ruin that was taking place in never ending cycles about him. Only right at the entrance did he stall, unable to help himself as he spared a single glance, finding-

    It was earlier than Scar usually popped in for an unplanned visit, but it was a necessary precaution in this sort of life to never let your schedule be too predictable. Had to keep people on their toes, especially with those like the South, who treated trust like little more than a commodity with those not within their inner circles.

    The lights were dim, servicing the meager handful of early-bird players adequately and adequately only. The true grandeur of full lights was reserved for the busy hours, when real profit could be raked in. Even so, Scar could still make out the back door opening from across the End Crystal’s polished floors, Mumbo and Grian entering from stage left.

    Mumbo had ditched his suit jacket, dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows yet still not spared from the mess of the business he had been attending to. Along with the red stains in the cotton white, his hands were practically painted in the blood of whatever poor soul had crossed the South and gotten caught. He was doing his best to clean his skin with a washcloth in hand, but his efforts were only so effective.

    While it was typically Grian in Mumbo’s current position, he was nearly stain-free, his role today likely just to guard and watch. There was a splash of blood across his cheek, however, arterial spray that had only just missed his suit. Grian swiped his thumb across his chin, catching a drop that had threatened to make him get dry cleaning, catching Mumbo’s attention.

    Shifting the cloth to one hand, Mumbo held Grian’s chin with one hand and set to cleaning his face with the cloth. He paused after a moment, cupping Grian’s cheek with the rag as Grian tilted his head up at him, a cheeky sort of smirk slipping onto his face, and somewhere in between a blink they were kissing, Mumbo’s hands remaining on Grian’s face while Grian tangled his in Mumbo’s hair. 

    Scar knew he should’ve looked away. He really should’ve. When the two of them stumbled backwards, Mumbo’s back hitting the wall not stopping them. When Grian started to draw away for a breath, Mumbo only giving him a moment to get it before tugging him back in. When they broke apart again, resting their foreheads together instead like they were content to do nothing else.

    He should have looked away.

    But he didn’t.

    -everything just as it was when he passed through, nothing and no one of note having come to occupy the space. Really, why would anything have changed? Same casino, same owner.

    With a nod to himself and his inner monologue, Scar pushed through the glistening revolving doors, replacing the perfume and champagne incense of the casino with brisk night air.

    The streets were dark, the End Crystal being the only business that pressed into the night with such fervor. Mixed shades of pink and purple lit up the sidewalk directly before the business, glitter gold words glowing in the coloured light and serving further to draw in the late-night wanderers with too much in their pockets. 

    Scar forced himself not to linger in its allure, aware that even out here Grian still had eyes on him. If Grian had returned to his regular station during the casino’s busy hours, that was; if Grian had actually left Mumbo’s office after Scar had, if Grian hadn’t instead stayed, if Grian hadn’t instead-

    With a particular purposeful tap of his cane, Scar was off, setting a quick pace in a familiar direction.

    It didn’t take long to reach his destination, escaping the lands of harshly edged moustaches and entering the one of paint splatter crystals. All his businesses were closed for the night, the empty streets once again making Scar consider getting into the night-life industry, though there was a good reason he never actually would.

    The after-hours were a dangerous time in Heremita, part of what had given Mumbo’s organization such a fast ascent to infamy in the area. When it first popped up, the End Crystal was predicted to fail in spades. But the South evidently knew their cards, and the casino’s success rose on the backs of those who tried to stop it.

    Scar still remembered the first day Mumbo had come around- with Grian right behind him, an inseparable pair from the very start- introducing themselves to every big name in town, like they already knew they were going to be something. Shame they’re not going to last, he had thought. We could be something.

    But they had lasted. And yet…

    Scar pulled himself from his thoughts as he realized he had come upon his destination. The jeweler's shop that served as his own base of operations was as closed down as every building around it, but the light over the back entrance was still flickering. Scar was careful to double-triple-double knock before entering, not really in the mood to get shot that particular night.

    As expected, he opened the door to find his right-hand man putting away his gun, replacing it in his hand with a pen as he returned to working the books. “Welcome back, Scar.”

    “You know, Bdubs, you don’t have to stay late.” Scar replied by way of greeting, shrugging off his suit jacket and hooking it on the hanger by the door. “There’s no rush, the work can wait.”

    “The election can’t.” Bdubs tapped the glass of his pocket watch, proudly displayed at the front of his desk. “I’m okay working some overtime.”

    “I still think you work too much.” Scar commented as he took a seat at the desk of one of his employees who had actually listened when he told them to head home, laying his head back. “But I appreciate your efforts.”

    Bdubs nodded at him in recognition, pausing his work for a moment to look Scar over. “Enjoy your walk?”

    “I did, thank you.”

    “Visit the South territory?”

    Scar lifted his head enough to shoot Bdubs an annoyed stare. “How do you do that?”

    Bdubs chuckled. “I know you, Scar. You always visit the South territory, especially in these last few weeks.”

    Scar let his head flop down again. “Still rude to point it out, isn’t it?”

    No response to that, the conversation being replaced with quiet pen scratches and paper shuffling for a minute. “Do any business?”

    “...They offered a partnership.”

    “Again?”

    “Again.”

    “And you said?”

    Scar sighed as he sat fully up, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know what I said.”

    Bdubs sighed as well. He put the pen down, rotating his chair to fully face Scar. He had replaced his work clothes with casual wear, a blue hoodie and jeans, but the distinctively-shaped emerald-green crystal hanging around his neck remained, a mark of his loyalties to friends and foes alike. “Scar.”

    “I don’t want to talk about it.”

    “We can’t keep dancing around the subject.” Bdubs pressed. “The South is big, as potential allies and current mayoral opponents. We can’t miss this opportunity all because you’ve decided to be weird about the heads.”

    Scar shook his head. “It’s just not that simple.”

    “This line of work is brutal, and you know that better than most.” Scar winced, one hand coming up reflexively to cover the side of his neck and the rough reminder Bdubs was referencing. “If you let schoolyard antics affect your decision making, you’re not going to make it back ‘round for a third try.”

    “You are talking back an awful lot today.”

    Bdubs didn’t dignify that with a response.

    Scar let his hand drop back to his lap. “Sorry.”

    The apology was accepted with a wave of Bdubs’s hand as he went back crunching illicit numbers. “It’s fine, just… maybe stop taking so many walks. Nowhere in this city is safe, but strolling through enemy territory every other night is asking for trouble.”

    “...Yeah, yeah, alright.” Scar agreed after a moment. “I won’t visit the South anymore.”

    “Unless you’re going to accept the partnership?”

    Scar turned away from Bdubs, looking out one of the small and reinforced back windows instead. “Sure thing.”

~

    Nights like these were ones Scar most deeply regretted having a bed in the spare office. It was always good to have a place to rest and recover close by, especially in this line of work, especially for him, but it made it much too easy to avoid going home when he should. Not that Scar was really the workaholic type- at least, not with paperwork- but too often he fell victim to the 'just one more’ mentality that had accidentally trapped him at work more times than he cared to admit.

    Granted, he could technically go home at any hour. But Scar wasn't an idiot.

    If Bdubs was still there, Scar might have bullied him into doing his job and escorting him home. But the man had worked a few too many long nights recently and it was finally starting to catch up with him- Scar had sent him home hours ago.

    “Are you sure?” Bdubs had argued, even as he was rubbing at his eyes in a desperate attempt to not fall asleep right there. “No one else is here, Scar. You should at least go home now too, while there's still light.”

    "This store is better fortified than area seventy-seven.” Scar had replied, gesturing with his pen. “I'll be fine. Go home, Bdubs, you need the rest.”

    There had been more grumbling, but Bdubs ended up going as requested, leaving Scar to his work in an empty store. In hindsight, Scar should have taken his advice to head home as well, while there was still light, but he had only been planning to finish filing one or two tax forms that were as accurate as anyone else's in Heremita.

    Scar glanced out the window, where the faintest sliver of a moon was beginning to reach its peak in the sky. Yeah, that plan had worked out well.

    Deciding to finally call it good for the night, Scar began putting away his papers, just about to stand up when he heard the unmistakable bang of a gunshot.

    Before Scar had even finished processing the sound, he had his own gun in hand, crouching beside his desk and aiming at his office's door, ready and waiting for a breach. Outside, more sounds followed the shot- something hitting the ground, running footsteps fleeing the scene, a string of curses. No more gunshots. No one trying to break down the door. No one after him.

    Scar remained in position despite his conclusion, listening for any sign it was a trap. But there was nothing, the only sounds left coming from the one who had been cursing. He had dropped the potty mouth, but he was muttering to himself, too low for Scar to hear through the store's walls. The voice was familiar, Scar realized, trying to identify which of his enemies it might be. 

    Except, it didn't necessarily sound like an enemy. In fact, it almost sounded like…

    Gun still drawn, Scar moved from his desk to his office door. After checking the main office was clear, Scar repositioned by the back door, peering out the slits in the window next to it.

    Scar could only spot the victim's legs, the rest of his body likely pressed against the shop's wall. Black suit pants only narrowed down the possibilities so much, but it counted more in favour of Scar's hunch than the other way around. 

    Steeling himself for the possibility of someone much less friendly than who he was expecting to find, Scar pushed the back door open a half inch.

    As suspected, the man was leaned up against the jewelry store's wall, immediately looking up when he heard the squeak of the door. Despite the awkward way he was holding his shoulder that immediately gave away the location of the gunshot's target, he managed to turn a corner of his lips up at spotting Scar. “Mr. Chronos.”

    “Bleeding out on enemy territory and you’re still as formal as ever, Mr. Eris.” Scar responded, checking each side of the alleyway before he fully stepped out of his building, gun still drawn. No sign of people lying in wait to attack, and Scar doubted that ambush was really Mumbo’s style, but you could never be too safe.

    “I didn’t realize we were enemies.” 

    “Well we’re not allies.” Scar came to stand in front of Mumbo, finally lowering his gun, though his finger remained on the trigger. “At least, not technically.”

    “That’s hardly my fault.”

    Scar shook his head. Why Mumbo had decided this was more important than the hole in his shoulder was beyond him, but it did signal risk of shock or more extreme injury than was immediately visible. Or a ploy. “What happened?”

    Mumbo nodded his head upwards, gesturing at something above him. Scar’s eyes followed the motion, finding a blue poster reading, “False for mayor!” plastered on the wall right over Mumbo’s head.

    With a grumble that bordered on a growl, Scar tore the paper down, crumpling it up and tossing it to the side. “She doesn’t normally make the mistake of tagging bases.”

    “Crime of opportunity.” Mumbo offered as explanation. “I’ve been edging into her territory recently, I’ve had her target on my back for a bit. Spotted Tango scoping out the Crystal earlier, hoped she’d be put off by me dipping through your territory. Sorry about that.”

    “The alley could always do with another clean, anyways.” Scar said with a shrug. He glanced around. “Where’s Grian? Did Tango get him?”

    “Grian’s safe, he didn’t see Tango. I told him to stay in the casino for the night, run some numbers on how many votes we can trade.” Mumbo answered, grunting as he got his feet underneath him. Dark blood sluggishly spilled out from beneath Mumbo’s hand at the motion, staining his suit darker than it already was as he stood up. Scar resisted the urge to offer him a hand up, instead trying his best to not look at him like he had suddenly grown an extra moustache.

    “You knew someone was coming after you and you told your head of security to stay home and crunch numbers?” A nod. “What the hell, Mumbo?! What were you thinking?”

    Mumbo rested his back against the wall once more. “It was safer.”

    “Safer? Safer?! False could have killed you! Tango could have killed you!” Scar gestured with his gun. “Damnit, I could kill you! You have security people for a reason, and if your life’s in direct threat, they should be on you!”

    Distantly, Scar was aware he was getting much too worked up by this for someone who, following the lack of allyship between their organizations, was a neutral party in the matter at best. Something in Mumbo’s expression as he watched Scar talk suggested he was thinking the same thing, but he didn’t comment on it.

    “If Grian has the opportunity to sacrifice his life for mine, he will.” Mumbo said slowly, as if there was something more to his words. “It is my job to ensure such a situation never arises.”

    “You’d sooner get yourself killed than let Grian do his job?”

    Mumbo met Scar’s eyes dead-on, stare unflinching as he answered, “Every time.”

    Silence in a blood-stained alley in the dead of night was always tense, Scar’s grip tightening on his gun (once more pointed towards the ground) as Mumbo refused to back down from his gaze. Finally, Scar let out a sigh.

    “Let’s get you inside before someone comes back to ‘check’ on you.” Scar flicked the safety on his gun back on, offering his other arm out for Mumbo to lean on.

    “I thought you said you could kill me.” Mumbo snarked even as he accepted Scar’s arm, using it as balance as he stumbled away from the wall. “That I was an enemy in unfriendly territory.”

    “I never called it unfriendly territory.” Scar corrected as he began walking back to his door, doing his best not to out-pace Mumbo. “The South is welcome in the Glass Empire.”

    “And so is the Glass Empire welcome in the South.”

    This time, Scar could identify the odd tone of Mumbo’s voice; the partial confirmation of some sort of agreement between their organizations, and the confusion of why Scar would do this, but still refuse an outright partnership. Scar let the unspoken question go unanswered, helping Mumbo take a seat at one of his employees’ desks before closing and securing the door.

    “Can you take your jacket off?” Scar asked him, pausing on his path to the first aid kit in case the answer was no. When Mumbo nodded, he left the room, gun still in hand as he fetched the kit. The chances of Mumbo attacking him were close to nothing, but even now they weren’t zero, and Scar knew there was no such thing as being too careful.

    Scar then proceeded to nearly shoot himself in the foot when he returned to the main office area to find that Mumbo had not only stripped off his jacket, but his shirt and tie as well. He had folded them up and deposited them on the floor by his feet, the small puddles of blood that were beginning to pool around them giving Scar an excuse to think about the different cleaners he’d have to call rather than anything else.

    “I could have just cut off the sleeve, you know.” Scar commented with feigned indifference, moving to the front of Mumbo and placing down the first aid kit and some towels on the desk beside him. “Didn’t need to take everything off.”

    Mumbo half-shrugged in response, careful to not jostle his injured shoulder any more than he already had. Despite his attempts to staunch the flow, blood had already begun trickling down his chest, and his hand was as bloody as it was the day Scar had come early for his typical impromptu meeting. Yet another thing Scar was going to do his best to not think about.

    The blood wasn’t the only thing of note on Mumbo’s chest, however. It was littered with scars as well. Most were small and faded, but one large one stretched over his heart, and another curved around his side in line with his ribs. The sight wasn’t too surprising, all things considered- this was their line of business, after all. But Mumbo was young for a boss, and new, and even now he was adding to the list of reminders that would follow him around for whatever amount of life he had left to live.

    It felt wrong.

    “Painkillers?”

    “It only hit my shoulder.” Mumbo replied flippantly. “I’ll be alright.”

    Scar placed the bottle out on the desk beside the kit regardless, just in case. He grabbed a second seat to use as his own as he started going through the first aid kit, pulling out gauze and sutures. “I won’t be able to tell exactly until we clean it up a bit, but I’m guessing you’re going to need a stitch or two.”

    “All I need is a bandage, Grian can stitch me up when I’m back at the Crystal.”

    “It’s funny how you think you’re leaving this building again tonight.”

    For all the ease their interactions had held so far, Mumbo immediately went on the defensive, sitting up tall in his seat and looking ready to fight Scar right then. Scar admired the fact Mumbo still might manage to win on sheer determination alone. “Excuse me?”

    “The last time you were outside at night you got shot.” Scar helpfully reminded, poking his own shoulder in mirror of Mumbo’s. “You’re safer here for the time being.”

    “I can take care of myself.”

    “Alright, let me put this a different way.” Scar moved one of the towels into his lap. “Grian’s already going to kill you for this stunt, that’s a given. So either you go out in the night, again, and get him committing double homicide against you for being stupid, and homicide against me for letting you be stupid, or you stay here for one single night, and save both of us at least one murder.”

    Mumbo didn’t make his choice immediately, choosing instead to glare at Scar as if that would change what he had said. Scar busied himself with laying out the rest of what he would need, briefly leaving once more to get a bowl of water. He returned to find Mumbo had once more slumped in his chair, privately grimacing.

    Scar took a moment to look away and loudly fiddle with a doorknob before taking his seat once more. Mumbo’s expression was once more masked, showing no signs of pain, but he hadn’t bothered to re-straighten his posture.

    “So, what’ll be, Mr. Eris?” Scar asked lightly, dipping a towel in the water bowl. “Need more blood on your hands tonight?” 

    “I suppose not.” Mumbo relented. “But I can still take care of myself. You don’t need to play nurse on my behalf.”

    Scar’s gaze fell briefly back to the patchwork of scars across Mumbo’s chest. “I have no doubt of that.” He said, the words coming out much gentler than he had meant them. “But you are my guest, and the Glass Empire insists upon its hospitality.” 

    "...You are an odd man, Scar Chronos.” Scar looked up again, finding Mumbo's gaze had softened somewhat. He still didn't seem too happy with the situation, unsurprisingly, but he seemed to have accepted it. "You can't seem to decide if we are enemies or allies.”

    “Why not a bit of both?” Scar said meaninglessly, scooting his chair closer to Mumbo and changing the topic. “Hand off.”

    Mumbo hesitated before complying, letting the hand that had been pressing against the wound fall to his lap. Scar gave him one of the towels, letting him wash his hands and wipe down his chest while Scar focused on the bullethole.

    "Did it go all the way through?”

    "No, it's still in there.”

    Scar nodded, grabbing his tweezers. "You're certain you don't want any painkillers?”

    Mumbo twisted the towel in his hands harder than he needed to. "Positively.”

    With another nod, Scar did his best to work delicately, trying not to add to the damage already done as he attempted to retrieve the bullet. Mumbo leaned his head against his uninjured shoulder, using his towel to bite on when Scar finally found his target and began to pull it out.

    Scar let the bullet drop to the desk beside them when it was finally out, mentally adding the piece of furniture to the list of things that would need to be cleaned. Mumbo dropped the towel to his lap once more, letting out a long breath before looking at Scar again.

    "Can I do my own stitches at least?”

    "Nope.” Scar answered with somewhat put-on cheerfulness. "But if it's really important to you, I'll let you bandage it afterwards.”

    Mumbo huffed a laugh before leaning back, resigned to Scar's cordiality. “No you won't.”

    "Correct, I won't.” Scar confirmed, picking up the wet towel and bringing it to Mumbo's shoulder. He was careful with his motions, not wanting to aggravate the wound more as he cleaned. Mumbo watched silently as he worked.

    "You remind me of Grian.” Scar did his best not to react too strongly to the sudden comment, instead raising a single eyebrow in curiosity. “So attentive. Usually I just stitch it up and call it good.”

    Scar hummed as he put the towel down, replacing it in his hand with the thread and needle he would need for the coincidentally mentioned next step. “Would you do that to Grian if he was the one that needed help?”

    “I wouldn’t.” Mumbo acknowledged, smirking. “But Grian is my right-hand man.”

    “And you are my guest.” Scar dodged, threading his needle. “Hold still.”

    Scar put in the stitches in silence, Mumbo not seeming as pained by the needlework as he had been by the removal of the bullet but hardly enjoying it either. His hand on his uninjured side patted his pocket as Scar worked, likely the location of whatever weapon he had on him. A knife, if Scar had to guess. If Mumbo had a gun it would either have been over his chest or in a leg holster. Scar would have been insulted if he didn’t understand the feeling so well himself. Scar’s work stayed steady with the knowledge that if Mumbo wanted to hurt him, he would have struck already. That, and the fact he could draw his gun faster than Mumbo could at current.

    As he finished off the stitches, Scar tied off the last one and cut it off from the spool. Mumbo inspected Scar’s work while Scar once again changed the objects in his hand. He made no complaints against the stitches or the fact Scar was picking up the gauze.

    Scar shifted his seat even closer to Mumbo’s, pulling more to his side so that he could wrap the gauze around his shoulder. Mumbo’s arm came to rest against Scar’s leg to give Scar better access to the injury, more small scars scratched across it. Scar couldn’t help but wonder how many of those Grian had helped with- how many of all the scars on Mumbo’s chest he had helped with, had cleaned and stitched and bandaged just like Scar was doing now.

    “Why doesn’t Grian wear your symbol?” Scar asked after a moment, well aware he had no right to, well aware there was no need to ask, well aware Mumbo likely wouldn’t answer at all. But it was a question that had always been on the back of his mind, ever since the first time he had seen Grian sporting amethyst instead of moustaches, and he doubted there would ever be another time where it was even close to appropriate to ask it.

    Mumbo closed his eyes, appearing to deliberate the question, deciding whether or not he would answer. Scar continued wrapping, nearly done when Mumbo finally spoke.

    “I don’t want to link him to me- to the South- like that.”

    “Everyone already knows Grian is your right-hand. Symbol or no.”

    “It gives him deniability.” Mumbo replied, looking down at the hand still resting over his weapon. “And it means if he ever wants to leave, he can. He doesn’t have to stay.”

    “You don’t want Grian in the South? Heremita?”

    “I don’t want him in this business.”

    Scar held the gauze in place as he reached for a piece of tape, securing the cloth. “He’s a strong member in your organization.”

    “Do you think that’s all I see him as?”

    “No.” Scar said quietly, moving Mumbo’s arm back into his own lap and pulling away to focus on repacking the kit. “I think you see him as much more.”

    Scar could feel Mumbo’s eyes on his back as he worked. He did his best to ignore the sensation, closing the kit with a bit of a louder snap than necessary. “Do you need any help getting your shirt back on?”

    “I’ve got it.” Scar nodded without looking back, taking the kit and spare towels back to where he had fetched them from. By the time he returned, Mumbo was pulling his jacket loosely over his shoulders, shirt on and tie shoved in a pocket. He looked more put together than a man who still had his own blood dripping off him should.

    “There’s a bed in the spare office.” Scar informed him, pointing out the office in question.

    Mumbo gave it a glance before turning back towards Scar, not looking enthralled. “Why would I sleep here?”

    “The door locks from the inside, and there’s a chair you can put under the knob as well, if it makes you feel more secure.” Scar explained, flashing a small smile. “And for whatever it’s worth to you, I promise you I won’t try to break in on you. I mean what I say about hospitality.” 

    It took a few minutes for Mumbo to respond to that, and even then it didn’t feel like nearly enough time for him to have made such a decision in. “Alright. But only if you wake me as soon as the sun’s risen. The sooner Grian hears about this, the less I have to be chewed out over it.”

    “I will.” Scar promised, watching as Mumbo made his way to the spare office. He hesitated in the doorway for a moment, turning to look at Scar again.

    “Grian’s not the only person I value past their position.” Mumbo said cryptically, smiling at Scar as if he should know exactly what he meant. “The South really would be chuffed if the Glass Empire pursued a partnership. Come by the Crystal again. Our doors are always open to you, even without an appointment.”

    Of the million things that sprang to Scar’s mind to say, to ask about, his only response came out as a nod. Mumbo seemed to accept it as more than enough, however, nodding back and wishing Scar a good night. The office door’s lock clicked behind him as he disappeared into the room, leaving Scar’s late reply of the same sentiments to echo in the empty main office.

    Scar found himself sliding back into the seat he had been helping Mumbo in, rotating around so that Mumbo’s room was behind him and the jewelry store’s side entrance in front of him. He pulled his gun into his lap, trying not to think too hard on whether or not he was just protecting himself right in that moment.

~

    “I'm heading out for a walk.”

    "Scar.”

    "Fine, fine! It's a business meeting! We don't need to be so formal about it, you know.”

    Bdubs spared Scar a glance as he worked on emptying display cases, packing things up for the night. “I'm being formal about it because I want something formal to happen. Casual walks into enemy territory still aren't safe.”

    “An ‘enemy’ I personally helped patch up! It'll be alright.” Scar argued, picking up his cane. “Besides, I think you're just upset over the blood.”

    "We haven't had any blood in the main offices in a year, Scar, it was very rude of them to break that streak.”

    “It wasn't entirely the South's fault for that.”

    “Well I can't do much about you. At least we're going after False for it.” Bdubs replied. “Speaking of, our efforts at cutting into her territory have been successful, we've gained some edge buildings. Got some votes out of the business owners there as well in trade for our protection from their old protection.”

    "Good. Teach her to leave her litter on my buildings.” Scar said, ignoring the look Bdubs shot him, as though there were other reasons the Glass Empire would suddenly pursue a much less neutral stance against False's organization. “I'll be off now. Don't wait up on me!”

    Bdubs wished him well as he stepped out the door, heading right off for the End Crystal. The sun was already setting, nighttime fast approaching, and with Scar's expansion into False's territory he knew the late hours were going to be even less safe for him now. 

    As he expected, Scar found the End Crystal nearly empty when he arrived, too early in the evening for the crowds to really be flowing in. Consequently, he wasn't surprised when Grian appeared sooner than he normally might. He was dressed as finely as ever, but his posture seemed a smidge more relaxed than usual, a minor detail Scar blamed on the lack of patrons.

    "Mr. Chronos.” Ah, but still as formal as ever. “We've been expecting you for a few days now.”

    "Well, Mr. Penemue, you know how work can be.” Scar gave as an excuse. “I do hope I'm not so late as to have missed my appointment.”

    “You miss none of the appointments you never make.” Grian joked even as he turned, guiding Scar towards Mumbo's office as he had done a dozen times before. The waiting room was again empty as they entered as they had weeks ago, the last time Scar had been in the End Crystal. This time, however, Grian brought the two of them to a halt in the center of the room.

    “Is there a problem, Grian?”

    Grian turned to face Scar, crossing his arms. “The opposite, actually. I wanted to thank you. You did Mumbo, me, and the South a great service in helping him that night, despite having no obligation to do so.”

    “I could hardly just leave him there to die.” Scar responded, clearing his throat before adding, “You alone would have seen to the end of my organization and myself had I not helped.”

    "Perhaps.” Grian admitted, before smiling knowingly and continuing, “But with False's poster, I very easily could have blamed her instead. Had you not assisted him, you would have brought about both the ruin of the South and the destruction of the Armory.”

    Scar laughed. “You sound almost as if you wished I had let him die.”

    “Not in the slightest. But it would have been much more beneficial to you, and because of that, I greatly appreciate that you helped him instead.” Grian paused, considering something before he said, “You know, me and Mumbo aren’t dating.”

    Of all the things Grian could have decided needed to be discussed, not in several years would Scar have seen that particular one coming. “Wha-”

    “You’ve been acting distant, professionally and personally, ever since you caught us kissing- Mr. Chronos, I am capable of back-watching footage my eyes saw while I was elsewhere- and so I presume the two things are related. I hoped to ease any… qualms you might have.” 

    “I- wait- you- okay, let’s just. Let’s back-up.” It was never a good thing to be so visibly caught off-guard in front of an opponent, much less so when it was in a manner that could be considered ‘flustered’, and much much less so when said opponent was smirking at you like it was funny. The sooner Scar would be able to recover from this, the better. “Why were you and Mumbo kissing if you two aren’t together?”

    “I owe my life to him, and despite my dedication to his safety, he would much too willingly throw himself in front of a gun for me.” Grian said with a shrug, as if it weren’t as important to him as it clearly was. “We’re closer than most couples are, we don’t need to be together to kiss.”

    “...None of the way you phrased that made it sound any less like you are together.”

    Scar was glad to note there was some level of amusement in the exasperated expression Grian took on. “If it’s easier for you, you can think of us as non-exclusive, then. It’s not that important to my main point.”

    “Your main point being?”

    “I know you’re not an idiot, Mr. Chronos.” Was all Grian offered as an explanation. “You’re welcome to head in now.” 

    Scar lifted his cane, catching Grian’s attention with it. “Don’t you want this?”

    Grian looked at the dangerous mobility aid, clenching his jaw for a moment as he seemed to make a decision. He looked Scar dead in the eye. “Hurt him in the slightest and I will take apart your Empire with my bare hands, Scar.”

    He took his leave of Scar then, before Scar had a chance to fully process the threat and use of his first name. He was fairly certain it counted as a good sign, at least. Grian's form of a blessing.

    His guide having left, Scar allowed himself into Mumbo’s office. The curtains weren’t completely drawn, letting in the fading daylight rays and illuminating part of Mumbo’s face as he worked. His jacket was only pulled over one arm, hanging loose around the one now in a sling.

    “We were beginning to worry you weren’t coming.” Mumbo said as Scar closed the door, looking up from his papers with a smile. “I expected you sooner.”

    “I wanted to give you some recovery time first.” Scar took a seat in the same chair before Mumbo’s desk, resting his cane against its side. “You and Grian, as I’m sure he wasn’t exactly thrilled at discovering your gunshot condition.”

    “He has been a lovely mix of overbearing mother hen and someone who must be restrained from starting territorial warfare, so, no, I wouldn’t say he took it the best.” Mumbo joked, rolling his pen between his fingers as he looked at Scar. “But he has been looking forward to your visit as well. This partnership is long overdue, wouldn’t you agree?”

    “That depends.” Scar returned Mumbo’s gaze evenly. “Are we talking professionally or personally?”

    Mumbo’s smile grew into a smirk as he stood, making his way around his desk to lean against the front of it, right in front of Scar. “I don’t see why we can’t work out something for both.”

    “That would be amicable.” Scar said as he leaned forward, reaching out to grab the end of Mumbo’s tie and tug him closer. Mumbo didn’t resist the motion, bending until his face was mere inches from Scar’s.

    “Is it a deal then?”

    Scar sat up taller in his seat, shortening the gap between him and Mumbo even more, tilting his head by a fraction. “Is Grian watching?” He asked in a low voice, as if there was anyone else who could hear.

    “He always is.” Mumbo replied, equally quiet and still wearing that knowing smirk, as if he thought Scar was being cute in a manner that wasn’t quite the typical definition of cute. Scar couldn’t help but return it even as he leaned in, sealing their deal like the charming gentleman he was.

[rein-ette]

If it hasn't been asked already, do you have any headcanons about France and England's relationship? 👀

Ah, and now we end where I always seem to end. These two cannot get rid of each other, and I cannot get rid of them.

*cracks knuckles* ok idk what you want to hear so I’m just gonna ramble here goes

So before I got my soul stolen by engport, fruk had been, like. Everything. Then I went through a crisis period where I was like 😱 how do I choose 😱 and now I’m like, ok, but why do I have to choose? I think Port and France fill very different roles in Arthur’s life, both of which are essential. Not only that, thinking about engport has helped me better understand Francis and Arthur’s dynamic, so I’ll be comparing a little throughout these hcs.

For me, fruk is a very — latent? — relationship. It’s ironic, bc engport are the ones who actually call themselves best friends and fruk prefer to be known as enemies/occasional lovers, but if you saw them on the street, you’d think France and England were close friends and England and Portugal, are, well, clearly gay for each other. They’re far more openly affectionate, whereas even for those who know them like Spain or Prussia, it can sometimes be hard to believe France and England are dating, let alone head over heels in love.

But they are. It’s just that they’ve been by each other’s side for so long, had those feelings for so long, that they’ve become a part of the background hum, a basic part of their lives. So usually the feelings Arthur or Francis actively feel for each other are mild, everyday things: annoyance, impatience, curiosity, worry. Especially in public/around other nations, they're not touchy or affectionate at all.

But if you know where and how to look, you'll see the signs. A napkin with scribbled math equations, something they argued over at a cafe. A cufflink here, a watch there, all gifts from each other from the hundreds of birthdays they've spent together. Arthur's number listed as an emergency contact on some inane government form. Francis' handwriting on the margins of Arthur's meeting minutes: remember to discuss this with Denmark, the address for a restaurant they're meeting at that night. Francis rereading various titles of english literature, trying to understand him better. Arthur paying for Francis' clothes with his own card without thinking about it. Their lives are intimately, mundanely intertwined in a way that's remarkably rare among nations.

This is actually a rather recent development in their relationship. In my hc Francis and England only started seriously seeing each other right before World War II, and began an "official" (or what passes for official) relationship right after. Then they broke it off for a while again when de Gaulle became president, then got back together shortly after he left office and have more or less gone pretty steady ever since. So that's like, what, a couple decades? A drop in the ocean for a nation. But this easy familiarity they've found doesn't feel new, to them or to anyone else, because in reality they've been building it up for centuries, albeit in unconventional ways. It's almost like through killing, conning, and tearing each other apart, they've lost their fear of each other. Nations have with their own kind a wariness, a constant stumbling block in the back of their mind reminding them no matter how deep their feelings, their interests can never truly align -- and this results in small awkwardnesses like pointedly locked office cabinets and walking away to take phone calls. But such things don't apply to Francis and Arthur. Part of it is the luxury of being allies now, but most of it is the fact that they've seen every side of each other, told every possible lie. Even if Francis did find some shit in Arthur's office, political secrets or otherwise -- what of it? They've planned enough conspiracies with and against each other that short of "I'm plotting a second invasion of Paris with Germany," there's really nothing they can't just scream at each other a little about and then brush off.

Basically what I'm saying is I like my fruk super domestic. But I also like my fruk highkey dramatic. One of the periods in their relationship I think about a lot is right before the American and French Revolutions (Louis XIV era), when I hc that they were in a nearly-entirely-committed, almost-honeymoon-like relationship. This comes from one fic i read that I can no longer find or remember, but where Arthur stays at Versailles for a couple years as the official English Ambassador and they begin a *clandestine* romance that's only half clandestine. This is a time when they were well and truly in love and not afraid to say it -- it was a time when they almost believed they could work out, fairy-tale style. But then the American revolution begins and Arthur is devastated, furious, accusing, betrayed -- they have an explosive fight and their relationship slides right back to hundred years war level hatred for the next century, culminating with Napoleon. The only difference from before is that now Arthur's anger is tinged with a desperate grief ("how could you do this again when you know i love you") and Francis' resentment now has a hint of despair ("I knew we couldn't last, the world is proving me right and i hate it.")

Their relationship slowly, glacially recovers after europe boots Napoleon. In fact, besides a couple proxy wars and shouting matches, the Napoleonic Wars was England and France's last major conflict to date. This coincides with the gradual worsening of Gabriel and Arthur's relationship in the 1900s. At this point Arthur wasn't actually trying to replace Gabriel, and in fact was still deep in denial about his feelings for Francis, but it certainly seemed to Gabriel as if he was being pushed out of Arthur's life and that Did Not Help Anything Whatsoever. Francis, for his part, was incredibly hesitant to push in part because of his lingering fear that they just weren't meant to be, and in part because he actually felt guilty that he was worsening Arthur's relationship with Gabriel, the loss of whom he knew would kill Arthur inside.

I realize I'm going on again so I'll end by saying that now, Francis and Arthur still sometimes have their dramatic moments of "oh shit I'm in love with him, the fuck?" even though the set-piece battles are over. When Francis delivers a particularly elegant speech, for example, or actually puts that mind and sharp tongue of his to work in a pitched negotiation. When Arthur surprises Francis with a weekend getaway, complete with a boat, flowers, and lots of cute blushing and blustering. Or when one of them is seriously ill, overworked, or hurt; when something just snaps one day and all their nightmares catch up to them -- the cold fear and sleepless worry are all reminders of how deep their feelings run, even if they don't constantly make themselves known.

[teacupfulofstarshine]

sunshine on my sunday best

summary: janus and remus get ready for a party, featuring fancy clothes and soft gays. (OR: my entry for dukeceit week 2021 day 4, free day)

a/n: i got seized by the inspiration bug, so i churned out some sappy gays for day 4 (free day) of @dukeceitweek

CW: brief, nonspecific mentions of funerals and corpses in a professional context (remus is a mortician), swearing

wordcount: ~1.3k

read it on ao3!!

“Darling, are you nearly done in there?” Janus calls, opening a polished wooden box and examining the gloves laid out within it. He plucks out a pair of golden-yellow gloves that he reserves for the most special of occasions and lays them on his vanity. “Remus?” Remus clatters around in the bathroom, doors locked, and Janus sighs. “May I take that as a yes?” 

“I’m trying not to stab my eye out with my mascara!” 

“A simple yes would have sufficed,” Janus says, rolling his eyes. He steps to the door of their bedroom, pulls it open, and calls down the hallway to their children.

“Are you two getting dressed for your cousin’s graduation party?”

“Yes, Papa!” they respond. Janus steps back into his room, opening his jewelry box, and tilts his head, considering. He selects a pair of golden cufflinks with “JS” engraved on them, a brooch shaped like a coiled golden snake with gleaming emerald eyes, and a golden tie pin. 

“Are you dressing up fancy?” 

“Of course I am! It’s not every day that our nephew graduates with a master’s degree at twenty-two. I assume you’ll be wearing something fancier than a crop-top hoodie and booty shorts?” 

“But I like the booty shorts!” Remus whines. 

“I put on good makeup for this,” Janus says. “I broke out the lace gloves for this. It is a nice dinner at a nice place.” 

“Chill out, Jan, I promise I dress up nice. Besides, I think Roman would kill me if I didn’t look nice for his son’s fancy party, and that’s not the way I plan to go.” 

Janus glances over to the framed photo on his vanity. It shows a younger Remus, only one white streak in his hair instead of his current salt-and-pepper gray, wearing a deep green wedding gown accented with silvery ocean patterns. Janus stands opposite him, in a gleaming golden tuxedo decorated with snake scale patterns and a motif of coiled snakes on the back. They are holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes, framed by an arch of golden-orange sunset roses. Janus smiles, drags one finger along the shining frame, and adjusts his wedding ring. 

“I know, my love. And you know that despite my . . . fondness for fancy dress, I will love you no matter what you choose to wear?” 

“I know, Jannie. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

“Only one?” 

“Oh, trust me. There’s far more, but if I get started on that I’ll wax poetic for days and we will almost certainly miss the dinner, and I think that’ll upset you.” 

“You know me so well, my love. You’re so sweet to me, and only me.”

“Only you!” Remus laughs. Janus hums, pinning his brooch to his lapel and clipping his tie. He looks in the mirror, admiring his face - glittering eye makeup, eyeliner sharp enough to cut a bitch, highlighter like diamonds, and a full, blood-red lip. For a finishing touch, he picks up a diamond lip gloss and swipes it across his lips. 

The bathroom door opens, and Janus turns to Remus to examine his outfit and promptly freezes. Remus has silvery eyeliner with curled eyelashes, no eye makeup to cover the laugh lines around the corners of his eyes that Janus adores so much. His face is contoured, bringing out his cheekbones, and he’s wearing pale green lipstick that matches his green gloves and four-inch green heels and emerald necklace. He wears a long, sleek black dress that hugs him in all the right ways, and Janus cannot stop staring.

“Janus?” Remus says, reaching over to set a hand on Janus’s shoulder. “Babe, you’ve been staring at me for like, five minutes. Is everything okay?” Janus blinks, clearing his eyes, and his husband’s concerned face comes back into focus. 

“Yes,” he says softly. “Yes, I - I’m sorry, my love. I lost track of my thought when I was looking into your eyes.” Remus flushes slightly, leaning down to press his forehead to Janus’s. 

“You can’t keep flustering me like that, Jan, not when I don’t have the time to throw you upon the bed and ravish you properly.” Janus lets out a very undignified giggle (one that he will absolutely deny if Remus tries to call him out about it later) as Remus sweeps him off his feet and spins him around. 

“Remus, please!” Janus gasps. “I’ll mess up my makeup! And you’ll mess up yours! And we have to leave, soon!”  

“Fine,” Remus pouts, setting Janus down and using the advantage his heels give him to lean down and press a little kiss to Janus’s hair. Janus shivers happily, leaning in to gently press his nose to Remus’s neck, before leaning back. 

“Fix your lipstick, dearest,” Janus says, primly smoothing Remus’s dress. “I’ll go check on the boys.” Remus grins, adjusting Janus’s tie clip before sending him off into the hall.

Janus sweeps down the hallway and knocks on the bedroom door, admiring the pale blue and dark purple origami butterflies adorning it. “May I open the door to check on you?”

“Yes,” Virgil calls. Janus opens the door and sees one of his children standing in front of the floor-length mirror. Xe’re adjusting xir purple and black suit, playing with the iridescent bow tie and frowning at xir sleeve. “Do I look alright, Papa?” 

“You look wonderful, dear,” Janus says. “Let me fix the cuff of your jacket, hmmm? It looks like you’re having trouble.” 

“Yes please,” Virgil exhales. Janus steps forward and fixes the cuff in one swift motion. He carefully readjusts the crescent-shaped silver hair ornament keeping Virgil’s bangs pinned out of xir eyes and makes sure that xir makeup isn’t smudged. “Thank you, Papa.”

“Of course. Is your brother nearly ready?” 

“I’ll meet you downstairs!” Patton calls from the attached bathroom. “Go on ahead without me, I’m just putting on the finishing touches. Won’t be more than a minute or two, I promise!”

“Very well, Patton. The car will be here shortly.” Janus heads for the long, spiralling staircase that leads to their foyer, with Virgil close behind him. Remus is waiting for them, draped in an elegant green lace shawl that Janus and Virgil wove for his birthday last year. Janus walks over to him and takes his arm, smiling at his husband. Virgil gags at them sarcastically as xe approaches, and Janus takes a minute to gaze over his family’s outfits, huffing out a laugh.

“What’s so funny, Jan?” Remus asks. 

“We certainly make an . . . interesting bunch all together, don’t we?” Janus says

“We look like we’re going to a funeral,” Virgil says, rolling xir eyes. 

“Oooh, I hope it’s open-casket! I want to roast the other morticians who don’t know how to to apply makeup to a corpse correctly. They never ever do it right, I’m the only one who does, and it pisses me off!” 

Remus continues to infodump about proper mortuary preparations for nearly four minutes. Janus glances at the grandfather clock near the staircase. “We should be leaving now . . . where is Patton?” 

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” 

Patton hurries down the stairs, and Janus gazes at his oldest child. He’s wearing a sky-blue dress with a pleated a-line skirt, patterned with cherry blossoms along the hem, and a pale pink cardigan sides around his shoulders. His purse is shaped like a pink kitty head, matching his pink tights and sky-blue kitten heels, and the clip in his hair is three crystal cherry blossoms. If it weren’t for his dark hair and abnormally silver-grey eyes, he wouldn’t look anything like the rest of his family. 

“The golden retriever arrives,” Remus says fondly, reaching over to ruffle Patton’s hair. Patton laughs, sliding his phone into his purse. “That makes all of us, then. Ready to go?” Virgil and Patton nod, and Janus snaps his fingers twice. 

“I’ll summon the driver.” 

[taking-over-his-life]

A night of tricks cost me a fortune - literally

It was a warm night in new York, the streets were deserted as I sat in the back of my limousine, the light from the street lights beamed in through the one way glass, making patterns on the black leather seats, and creating beams of light as they hit the diamonds on my cuff links and the gold on my watch.

I was being driven around the lower class backstreets, looking for some hot young cock. I had come straight from my 5th avenue office, where I was the president of a major company, so I was still in my tailored blue suit, silk shirt and tie.

I pulled at my diamond cufflinks as I looked out of the window, for a particular hustler.

His name was Joel, a  muscled, but dumb young fucker about 22yrs, always wore tight leather chaps over his gorgeous ass and a huge package.

I had fucked this guy before but tonight I wanted to breed him so badly.

Leroy was my driver a huge handsome gay black man. He didn't worry about my special needs, as he understood them. It was Leroy who had found Joel for me a few months ago, ensuring

that the kid had everything I wanted.

Leroy was such a hot guy I have always wanted to get into his pants, but I ensured our relationship was kept strictly employer and servant. I knew he felt the same about me and at times the electricity was so powerful, but I always resisted and put him back in his place.

I wont say what I would have liked to do with him, but boy it would be really dirty.

We drove down a deserted backstreet, by now it was raining and the light hit the puddles of water on the ground. Suddenly Leroy started to slow down and I saw a figure in a doorway, it was Joel.

AS the light hit him his muscled legs stood out in his leather chaps , and the light hit his shaved head , he walked over to the limousine and Leroy got out and chatted with him, handing him a wad of notes, they chatted for two or three minutes, I saw Leroy grabbing his crotch and then kissing him before he opened the passenger door.

In he came , he was a vision of a young dumb horny and hot prostitute. Dressed in worn leather chaps, boots shirt and jacket. His head was shaved, with tattoos on the left side of his skull of a butterfly, he had rings on every finger and two gold chains around his neck which I had bought him.

As he got in the bulge in my tailored suit pants began to expand, 'Hi Joel' I said, 'evening Mr Strang" he replied, 'do you want my place again he said. "Yes Joel I do, lets spend a few hours doing what we do best"

I never took him to my home or any of my apartments, I didn't want anyone to know about my extra curricular activities, plus I loved the idea of going to his housing project home, cheap home cheap or second hand furniture, it gave me a real buzz, as my life was sheer luxury.

He got down in front of me and pushed my legs apart as he gently unzipped my pants and started to feel my package through my silk boxers.

He started to chew through the silk at my dick. As I moaned with pleasure. He knew I mustn't cum until I was inside of him and that would only happen in his bed.

It wasn't too long before we reached the housing project.

There were a number of black kids outside his block. They knew the score, but were only sorry it wasn't them.

Leroy paid them to look after the limo, and he put my thick leather coat on my shoulders, as Joel led the way to the sixth floor.

The lift wasn't working so we walked up the stairs, lined with rubbish and stinking of piss. This place was one hell of a slum. But I liked the idea of slumming it, it was so different from what I knew, the smell so horny rather than the cleanliness of my home which was spotlessly taken care of by my two servants and the immaculate lawns. My body smelt of the expensive washes and colognes, so this for me was so erotic. I knew the price of my coat alone could buy one of these places.

We went into his apartment a one bedroom hovel. He was not a tidy kid, but that's what I liked about him.

Le Roy took my coat and sat to watch TV as me and Joel disappeared into his bedroom. The bed was unmade and u could see where his body had been, I leant down and smelled it, so manly so horny, he watched and smiled.

I walked up to him and we embraced, our tongues in each others mouths tasting each other pulling in each others breath. My hands ran to his perfectly shaped ass cheeks as he started to undo my belt and work on my zip

I was rock hard by now seeping precum into my expensive silk boxers, his budge was it normal huge size accentuated by the chaps.

I took off my dark blue pinstriped jacket and put it on a chair, he looked up at me and smiled ‘you smell so good sir’ he said, ‘thanks boi’ I said, he took off his leather jacket and dropped it on the floor, then the leather shirt.

His body stunk of BO, and that drove me crazy, I got down and started to lick at his left arm pit enjoy the smell of a real man.

As I was doing this he pulled off my tie, and shirt followed by my vest so I was bare cheated like him

'what have u got for me Joel ' I said, and he pulled out some spliffs. 'light up boi' I said, we sat on his bed as he lit up the spliffs in the slightly lit room, his face so young so hard so horny, as I watched every move.

The light hitting the rings in his ears, three on each ear and the ring in his nose, he had two in his left eyebrow, not to mention the two I had bought him for his tits.

I reached over and rubbed my hands on the tats on his arms and chest, enjoying his young muscular body.

The match went out and he took a couple of drags and handed the spliff too me. He only bought the best Leroy saw to that, and boy did it have a kick. We kissed and exchanged the smoke as we rebreathed.

The sound of the police sirens and gangs shouting in the streets added to my excitement, it wasn't long before I pushed him on the bed and was removing his boots, pulling gently as the came away from his heels.

I had to smell my boi so I placed them to my face pulling in the smell of the leather and his foot sweat, which made me stand even harder.

He was desperate to unloosen his chaps and jeans so I could gain entry and so gently I pulled them off to reveal the goods I had paid for. His cock was huge and erect the ring through the centre stood up straight as if at attention for its master, his metal cock ring embraced his balls, and helped them gently fall towards the bed

Within seconds my face was in his crotch, smelling the sweat and man smell of his dick and balls, no cologne just pure male, I rubbed my face in it, to ensure his smell was on every part of my face. I held out my hand and he passed me the spliff, I took two deep breaths and handed it back, my head was light I was spinning and in ecstasy as I put his huge member in my mouth enjoying this young boys taste and feel.

He wrapped his muscular legs around my neck to hold me there

I reached for his tits until his dick started to seep, I loved his young manly taste. . I indicated enough and he released me.

I undid the belt of my suit trousers and let them fall to the ground. Looking into his black eyes as huge smile, wanting so much to breed with my tattooed pierced slut boi.

I kick off my shoes and got in-between his legs putting his ankles on my shoulders, ‘you want me boi’?’ yes sir, every bit of you’

I pushed the head of my dick against his man hole and gently began to push

I has so much pre cum it lubed my entry and then gently I moved in, he knew what to do pulling at my tits as I went deeper and deeper into that filthy prostitutes body ramming my manliness into his guts, the sweat was pouring the smell riveting I started to pound him

Stopping only to drag on the spliff.

I didn't hear but Leroy but he had entered the room and was watching it was only when Joel smiled at him that I saw him, he came over,’ no Leroy, you the rules stand back’

Leroy was angry but moved away muttering something like ‘I will fuck you sometime’

I continued to push into Joel, as Leroy watched with his package getting bigger, Joel was ripping at my tits, and I was so high on the spliff, suddenly my balls started to pull and I shot a huge load several wads deep into my boi, god his face was in ecstasy as his cum shot past him hitting the window and gently running down the glass, I collapsed on him, my sweat mingling with his and started to kiss him deeply holding him in my arms as he pressed himself against me, we just started at each other smiling.

Suddenly there was a snide look on his face, something I hadn't seen before.

‘My turn’ he said, I looked quizzically at him, ‘what’?, ‘my turn to fuck you’ he said smiling, ‘dont be stupid Joel’ I said, and called for Leroy, Leroy came over and grabbed hold of Joel but not in the way I expected, he started to kiss him .

They both looked down at me on the bed smiling, Leroy spoke up in his deep black voice, ‘you heard him, he wants to fuck you boi’ he said 

I started to stand up, but he pushed me back down holding a menacing fist to me, ‘what the hell Leroy, don’ be so fucking stupid, ill have you inside if you don't do as I say’

He started to laugh, ‘who do you think you are. Its only your money and possessions that define you, if someone else was in there they would be a better person than you, you fucking snob’ , with that he slapped me hard on the face, I winched, ‘don't be fucking stupid’ I shouted, ‘how much do you want?

Joel came over to me and caressed my face with his hand, ‘your a handsome fucker, I want it all’ ‘all’ I said  ‘yes everything’ he said, ‘once my cum is in your hole our DNA will mingle and you will be one low male prostitute, you like it here and u like me, so you can really enjoy it, I'm off to the Hamptons’ with that he slapped me

‘What! ’I screamed, with that Leroy pushed me down on the bed and gagged me, I struggled but he was too strong, the drugs were also affected my ability.

He tied my hands to the bedstead and within seconds Joel was in-between my legs, ‘I want to taste him first’, said Joel to Leroy, ‘Ok baby’ he said. and with that he pulled my ankles over my head so my ass was easily accessed, I tried to scream but couldn't.

Joel got down and started to lick at my ass, the feeling was unbelievable his warm tongue deep inside me,

He looked up at me, ‘you look terrified, don’t worry, you taste so damn good, but that taste will soon be mine’

He aimed his huge erect cock at me with its piercing, ‘you always liked this soon it will be yours’ Joel said. Suddenly I felt may arse being defiled, id never been fucked before and I screamed through the gag and tried to get free, I was too drugged and weak, inch by inch he delved into me pushing deeper and deeper, it was painful, but felt damn good.

Suddenly Leroy appeared, he had stripped, and stood over my head, he took off the gag and sat on my face, that huge black ass, down on my face his smell over my nose and mouth he was suffocating me. I was struggling as I was being defiled at one end and suffocated with man smell at the other,

I was as hard as steel and excited, then it happened, Joel shot into me I could feel his dna entering my guts and swirling around my body.

My own cum shot all over Leroy, as he got off me.

Joel pulled out of me and kissed Leroy, ‘it will be ours soon baby’ he said, to Joel  ‘yeah and this fucker will get his just deserts, shames its so good a body your giving him’

Joel started to pull out all his piercing and put them on the table and his rings, ‘mustn't have anything on baby when the change happens these are his now’  he said, he then lay down next to me.

He leaned over and started to kiss me with his tongue going deep into my throat, his arms went around me and he wrapped his legs into mine, I enjoyed it and responded, as we kissed he seemed to be sucking me out from the inside my memories intelligence everything.

Suddenly I started to shake and see lights in my eyes I couldn't move.

Memories started to appear in my head, memories of a deprived childhood in the ghetto drunken mother and criminal father, somehow it was as if they were my family.

I was an intelligent guy but it was as if holes were appearing in my brain and the light was getting out, my mind was slowing down a pace and I couldn't calculate or think in the same way, memories of sleeping in the park, being raped it was all me I was that person.

My body was being pulled somehow on the sheets in fact it was reducing in size, I could feel my ass getting tighter, and numerous changes in my muscles and face.

My knowledge as a city broker disappeared although I knew who I was, even my vocabulary was reduced, I felt so dumb so stupid, not in control.

I could hear Leroy from elsewhere in the room shouting ‘its unbelievable were going to be filthy rich’

I was in terror at what was happening, what were they doing to me, and what were they going to do with me, I started to shout, ‘help me, help me’ but it wasn't my voice it was Joel's.

The pain lasted for about twenty minutes, and when I woke up from it, I was soaked in sweat,

I looked around the room and saw Leroy smiling, and lying next to me it was, ME, I screamed and stood up, but it wasn't my body I was younger and covered in tattoos.

Leroy grabbed me tightly from behind holding my arms, and walked me to a mirror, ‘NOOOO’I screamed out ‘NOOO it cant be real. I was Joel the short male prostitute, ‘help me Leroy help me!’ I screamed.

‘Hey babe what do you want me to do to you?’ said Leroy, ‘Leroy its me Mr Strang, your employer’, ‘No man, your Joel a prostitute, a fuck boi’, he laughed and released me.

I looked over and Leroy was kissing my body and it was responding, ‘damn I'm a rich man now, my mind feels so alive’, and he kissed Leroy.

he took some piercing from the table, ‘Joel these are yours now’ he smiled I tried to run but Leroy grabbed me pushing me to the floor, ‘now come on slut’ he said, ‘do as your master says’ ‘Ill give you an extra $50 for this’ he started laughing as Leroy held me down.

He got on tip of me and put the piercing in my ears and then my nose, he moved to my tits which just started my dick rising, and then my dick. ‘all in place’ he said to Leroy, Doesn't he look the part.

I looked at them in tears, ‘but why?’ Leroy looked at me ‘youre a mean fucking bastard Strang, you never cared about any one, now ill get to fuck your ass your useless piece of trash’

‘No,’ I cried .

The old Joel, now me, started putting on my vest and silk boxers, followed by my well pressed silk shirt and tie. He adjusted my diamond cufflinks, and then pulled up my suit pants over his ass and belted himself in. He picked up my socks and put them on sliding into my shoes.

He smiled as he did it, with Leroy watching and getting more aroused.

‘there my clothes’ I shouted, both of them laughed at me and threw Joels jeans and chaps at me, ‘’dress slut’, he said in my body and voice

I pulled the worn 501s up over my ass they felt good as the caressed my balls and dick, then the used dirty leather chaps, they fit me to perfection.

‘Woof’ he said, ‘you'll get some business tonight with that’ as he sneered’

‘Hey Leroy’ he said ‘try out my slut boi, and give him 100 dollars extra, no, he’s given me a lot, millions in fact, tonight $150 should do’

I knew he has control of my millions and there was nothing I could do, Leroy grabbed me and in seconds he was inside me fucking me raw, whispering in my ear as he rammed it home, strangely I enjoyed it, the body was used to this treatment.

I felt I should love Leroy but it was apparent that wasn't the case. Joel was the one he wanted not his body and that is all I was to him.

He stood in front of Leroy and pulled out what was my dick, Leroy sucked it, he had always wanted his bosses attention.

Leroy enjoyed sucking all the pre cum he was in his element. My body suddenly said, ‘interesting memories here Leroy, this body always fancied you, perhaps if he had acted on it he wouldn't be me now, eh Joel’ he said laughing at me.

‘Its time Leroy’ the thief who stole my body said. I was terrified. leroy put my leather coat on his shoulders, ‘get him dressed, his rings are there he said pointing to the table., Leroy got hold of me and made me wear the leather shirt and the jacket

He took my hand and forced 10 rings on them, ‘perfect’ he said, he got hold of my head, I was crying ‘ ah shucks,’ he kissed me,’ ‘heres your keys, lock your place up ’he said ‘and come with us’. I locked the door of the apartment and followed them down the filthy litter ridden stairs to the limo, he got in, then me. Leroy paid the guys for looking after the limo and we were off,

We stopping in the alleyway where I had picked Joel up, he looked at me ‘out boi, go earn some money’ I was terrified, I touched his hand, he slapped me hard his gold ring cut my face, ‘never touch me, my pants are worth more than your life , now get out'

Leroy opened the door and let me out, ‘enjoy’ he said, ‘I will’, they drove off in my limo with my body and my life, I looked down at myself I was a male prostitute with little chance of doing anything else.

A car came by, I got in my life of tricks had begun.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Married at first sight part three

summary: Eddie and Richie’s first dinnerparty, meeting the other couples

A/N:  this is a part three, I hope you enjoy it. Again this was based on mafs Australia, so I don’t know if this is how it goes in all the variants of the show. Please let me know what you think!

@impalagurl67​

The night of the first dinner party , it’s surprisingly Richie that’s more stressed. Eddie had expected him to be the voice of reasons, as he usually was, but no, It’s Eddie’s turn to keep his head cool. 

This time though, Richie was working himself up badly, even having resorted to asking Eddie more than a few times if his outfits were alright.

Eddie was nervous too, but he was trying to hide it, so it wouldn’t become a cycle and cause Richie to obsess even more.

when he reentered the living room for a fifth time, wearing yet again something else then before, Eddie rolled his eyes in annoyance. ‘You look great Richie, don’t fret so much.’

Richie looked up at Eddie in surprise, as if he was expecting Eddie to lie and say that he looked hideous. Eddie knew that Richie wasn’t too comfortable with the way he looked, even though he had no idea how he was unable to see himself the way Eddie saw him.

Still, little things like this reminded Eddie that no matter how irrational, Richie felt that way, and Eddie would spend every day he could to help change his mind.

‘I don’t lie to you now do I? You told me yourself. I’m like a prissy old woman who will complain to your manager regardless of any excuses, I will not hold back’, Eddie tries his best to imitate Richie’s voice, but he fails flat. Impressions are mostly Richie’s thing, not his.

After a few weeks of living together however, they started to rub off on each other. Eddie was less aware of the camera pointed at his face at all times and was more prone to step out of his comfort zone. Excpet the parts where he had to look straight into the camera and give his commentary about an event that happened, that was not his thing at all. While Richie in turn had developed a habit of cleaning up after himself, purely because he knew it annoyed Eddie.

Sometimes it felt like Eddie’s heart would burst out of his chest with emotion. The, dare he use the word, love that consumed him from top to bottom when he thought of  his husband, was something he had never felt before. He hadn’t even been aware that such a feeling could exist.

If you had asked Eddie a year before the whole experiment and meeting Richie how he would respond to such an intents emotion, he would have responded with panic.

Something changed though, and the fact that he was in love with a man didn’t make him feel like he would throw up anymore. and it was not just any man, it was Richie, and Eddie was starting to get the idea that by only hearing his name, whatever negative emotion still lingered, ebbed away like the sea did at night.

His only request was that he find a way to explain that all to Richie himself. Eddie is not good with words, he knows that and thanks to his friends and Richie it’s something he’s working on, yet it’s still so difficult to open his mount and vocalize the feelings their close proximity was providing, even after having spend a long time period cooped up in a small hotel room.

That and the fact that Eddie was still unsure about their relationship. He was desperate not to get his heart broken, even with the brave face he was putting on, and the endless stream of insults Richie laughed away every single time, he was a sensitive man by heart.

They had a lot of things in common, that was for sure, from the way the both of them were stubborn as hell, to the place they grew up, but there were also a lot of differences, Eddie couldn’t help but take notice off. Richie was loud and unbothered by the amount of space he took up. In fact, he seemed to thrive under the attention from others, whilst Eddie tended to shy away from the focus of others. It made sense that Richie liked that sort of thing, seeing as he was famous for capturing people’s attention during shows, but Eddie didn’t think it would be that present in their everyday lives.

Eddie wasn’t stupid, he understands Richie more than Richie himself might peg him for, and he remembers what he said on their first night together, about how he was scared that people would forget about him. And Eddie understands that, a little, for he was also really scared that he would be left with nobody if he didn’t stick around by his mother, they just handle their fears differently.

The outgoing personality of Richie, versus the wanting-to-be-invisible in public personality from Eddie caused enough reasonable doubt in Eddie that they might not match with one another.

Eddie wondered if any of the other couples had the same problems. Although it was mostly Richie who was fearing the dinner party, Eddie wasn’t completely reassured either. He knew that he would compare himself to the others, as soon as he laid eyes on them. It had always been that way for him, even since he was a child. His diseases his mother claimed he had, already resulted in him being different from everyone else, and so he did whatever he could to make sure he mirrored his peers for everything else.

But This was a different situation, one where there were no standard responses, no right way of doing things, no guides to gently angle them in the right direction. So far, Eddie and Richie had been in their own bubble, in which they did everything in their own pace, but Eddie was certain that as soon as he saw the others, he would try to mold his relationship to appear like theirs.

At least, that was how he would normally act. The determination clogging every vein is his body was trying very hard to keep stealthy, to not follow his mother for the so manieth time.

He didn’t tell Richie any of his worries, as he was always venting about how hard it was for him to be on the show, and he refused to give Richie any doubts about them. Even when Richie had never been anything but kind and patient with him.

‘Yeah yeah you’re right Spaghetti. If you think I’m hot, then I’m sure your mom will feel the same, and if she feels the same, then I feel the same too.’

The glare Eddie shot Richie did nothing to stop the thunderous laugh that Richie let free, but Eddie cared less about that than he would ever admit. When Richie laughed, the dark clouds that clouded Eddie’s vision would evaporate for a few moments, making it the highlights of his day.

Not that there were many downs in the first place.

‘Come om Rich, if we don’t leave now, we might be late. I cannot, I repeat cannot be late on the first day of meeting these people. If we were to leave now, we would definitely not be the first, which is great because I am not prepared to having to sit there and wait and pretend to be comfortable and like the both of us haven’t been worrying about this for days, even though this fucking dress shirt is cutting of my air supply and that’s going to be really tricky.’ Eddie sucked in a huge breath of air, another Kaspbrak rant coming to end.

‘But if we’re the last, then everyone will already have met each other and stare at us like we’re fucking clowns in a circus when we go in.’ After a pause where there is no response, Eddie hastily adds, ‘so I’d like to leave now please.’

Okay so maybe it’s not just Richie that’s a little bit stressed.

His eyes flung up to meet Richie’s, the position making Richie appear bigger and larger than he already was compared to him when standing up. Richie was sporting a smile on his face, a real one, not the fake obnoxiously large one he used when a fan came up to him to try out a joke and it fell flat, and he wasn’t heartless enough to not laugh. The real smiles caused Eddie’s heart to stop for a moment, a beat where every atom in his body was purely focused on Richie, before realizing, oh hey we can look at this gorgeous man whenever we want, let’s get back keeping Eddie alive so he can.

‘I’m so glad they matched me with you’, is what Richie said after a few moments. Eddie can’t help but throwing a smile shyly his way, accepting the hand extended to him to slot their hand together.

‘Sap’ Eddie murmured under his breath, but inconspicuously inching closer to Richie’s side as they left their apartment, and entered the car.

As always, Richie opened the car door, letting Eddie slide in first. When he walked across the car, getting in on the other side, Eddie allowed himself a moment to check Richie out. He ended up wearing a yellow Hawaiian shirt with jeans, which wasn’t anything fancy but it was Richie, and that was more than enough.

Looking down the inspect his own clothing, Eddie figured he was a bit overdressed. He had decided on wearing a cardigan that was just on the side of too tight, with cufflinks, he also wore a dress pants, in a warm beige.

Now he was starting to feel self-conscious. However, Richie told him that he looked good, and Eddie convinced himself that that was all that mattered.

The car ride itself didn’t last very long, which Eddie lucked out in, for car rides seamed to increase his anxiety levels. Luckily Richie held his hand the entire way there, not even thinking of letting go. No words were able to describe how much Eddie loved him for it.

‘Do you think there will be other gay couples?’ Eddie asks after he sees Richie squirm in his seat for the third time in ten minutes. It’s not a thought he had spend much time thinking about, but it was an important one. He did not want to deal with a homophobe at all.

Patients wasn’t something Eddie accumulated with Richie at first, everything about Richie screamed inpatient, but when it came to dealing with Eddie, Richie never pressured him into anything. Which meant that they had only started holding hands only a two days prior, and the both of them were still searching how and when hand holding was appreciated and when not.

Richie shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but if there aren’t, I’ll turn all those hetero’s gay when they look at me.’

Eddie laughed, despite his best efforts not too. ‘Besides, even if they suck, they can’t be worse than the bullies from my hometown.’

A scowl formed on Eddie’s forehead, thinking back to the story’s Richie had trusted upon him about his childhood. Part of him hoped that those assholes were dead in a ditch somewhere.

‘I wouldn’t let them do anything to you Rich.’ Eddie promised with his whole heart, however wanted to hurt Richie now, was going to have to go through him.

He completely missed the look of pure adoration Richie shot him, too busy thinking of ways to respond should anyone feel the need to comment on the fact that they were gay.  

Eddie, as usual, was right. They were not the first, but thankfully, they were not the last either. Two couples were seated side by side and a large sofa in the middle of the room, all of them sporting a drink in their hands.

The table were the drinks were presented on, was placed in the right corner behind the couch, and Richie had already decided what drink he would be ingesting later, before he even took a good look at the contestants.

Eddie shouldn’t have worried, since there were three men, and only one woman, meaning that there were at least two other gay lovers. He walked towards the woman first, as she had already stood up, her arms opened in a loving gesture, and enveloped him as soon as he was within reach. It was then that Eddie noticed that he still had Richie’s hand clasped in his, and disappointment made it’s presence when Eddie was forced to let go in order to hug her.

‘I’m Beverly, but you can me Bev.’

Her voice sounded like honey felt; warm and mushy, and Eddie liked her before he even got a change to truly get to know her. A flash of excitement washed over him. He had been so worried, but he hadn’t considered the possibility that it could be fun to meet people who maybe had the same problems as him.

He moved over to what he assumed was her husband, a strong ridiculously good looking man, wo also gave him a hug, and told him his name was Ben. If Richie didn’t have the entirety of Eddie’s heart, and Ben would be gay, damn straight Eddie would go for him.

When Eddie turned to greet the other two man, he overheard the conversation between Richie and Beverly.

‘Aren’t you that famous comedian, Trasmount Tozier?’

‘Why yes I am my fair lady, hey Eds you hear that, somebody recognizes me.’

Eddie ignored him, though the urge to roll his eyes was very persistent. The other man gniffled, introducing himself as William, Bill Denbrough. Then the man lovingly gestured at his partner while stepping back into his side as soon as he could, letting the other man introduce himself as Mike Hanlon.

They seemed right for each other, their general aura and vibe shining through in just the way they wordlessly followed the others lead. When they glanced at one another, they both inconspicuously tried to pretend that they were not looking, and it was awful for Eddie to feel relieved by that, but he did. It showed that it wasn’t just him and Richie that were a bit timid.

Ben and Beverly seemed like the sweetest pair of people anyone could ever meet. Especially Ben. He was good looking sure, but his biggest attribute was the kindness he showed, to Beverly but also to everyone else. He seemed like the type of person who could never hate anyone, despite what they may have done to him. Bev appeared to be sweet as well, but Eddie could tell that she was also fiery, and that you shouldn’t try to double cross her, or you might end up in trouble. He suspected that he would get along with her great.

They offered them a drink, a glass of champagne which they insisted that they drank, and because Eddie didn’t want to seem stuck up, he took it and sipped little bits of it. Richie and him sat together on a different sofa, as close as humanly possible. They had just plopped down when the door opened again, and another man and woman made an appearance.

They both looked as cool and collected as any person could be, in particular the man, but they seemed kindhearted too.

They came up to Richie first, Eddie cringed when Richie pulled the man close into an embrace, he was however pleasantly surprised when man caustically returned the hug. ‘My name is Stanley’, he said while moving over to Eddie.

A chorus of ‘hey Stanley’ was heard throughout the room, followed by a ‘hi Patty’, when the woman introduced herself. They too were given a glass of champagne, right after they chose the seat next to Eddie and Richie.

To everyone’s surprise, Richie and Stan hit it off straight away. Richie would do whatever he could to provoke Stan, as he always did with Eddie, and Stan would give deadpan answers, causing the whole group to burst out in laughter.

The jealousy Eddie figured he would experience never made an appearance, for Richie kept his hand on Eddie’s thigh the entirety of the evening, and all it made Eddie feel was supported.

They discovered they all grew up in Derry Maine, which was odd, since they were all around the same age yet they had never seen each other around at school. They wrote it off as a weird coincidence, and Eddie tried to occupy his mind from overthinking it. A nagging feeling in the back of his head seemed to tauntingly tell him something. Yet he couldn’t figure it out.

Al in all the night went amazing. By the end of the event, Eddie was sure he had 7 new friends, and that no matter what happened, they would remain that way after the experience.

With these people, he was not the odd one out, everyone of them was different, but everyone also fit in. They all had experiences that differed from the other, but they also all fit in perfectly.

Each one of them had their own crosses to bare, in their relationship but also in their personal life. Eddie trusted them enough to tell them about his mom, or he would have if the camera’s weren’t there.

Ben was insecure because he had been a bit chubbier as a kid, and he constantly felt like his partners deserved better than him.

Beverly had a horrifying experience with her dad, even though she was hesitant and didn’t say what, only revealing that she had trust issues.

Stanley dealt with some mental health issues, that were still lingering through in his every day life.

Patty had family members who were going through the same things as Stan, so she was very protective.

The death of his little brother had been a traumatic event that defined most of Bill’s young and adult life, but he was trying hard to move past it.

Mike’s parents were killed during a fire, and loneliness was his best friend because of it for years.

Eddie’s breathing got a bit easier with the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one who was a little out of the ordinary.

When Richie and Eddie made their way back home, holding hands like they had been doing throughout the event, Eddie’s view on their future, got a little lighter. The conversation he had helped him put things into perspective, and with newfound courage, Eddie couldn’t wait to continue their journey.

[promptistrashqueen]

Afternoon Gifts (Babyfic)

For starter’s, I decided to post this now because it’s growing larger than I want to wait for. Also this is a “Fuck you the ten year time skip never happened and no bodies fuckin’ dead” AU! Featuring SunPrince Prompto and MoonPrince Noctis (because I love them and they get to be gay married okay)

Noctis sucks in a breath, staring at the floor, his hand still on the doorknob as he tries to find the words he’s about to need.

How the fuck...his dad might’ve managed to ask the impossible in having Noctis deliver the news.

Next time, he’s definitely just going to make sure Prompto comes with him to a “one-on-one” with the King. After all, Prompto’s a Prince now too and more than capable of handling the job.

“Hey Noct!”

Prompto’s footsteps are familiar, quick and light like he’s not fully tethered to the ground but stopping hard, like he almost forgot to stop moving forward. Noctis closes his eyes and sighs, looks like he’s out of thinking time.

“Oh...bad meeting?”

Noctis shakes his head, hand sliding off the door as he straightens up and leans back, brushing his hair off his forehead and looking at the ceiling, anywhere but his husbands face.

“Not...bad. Dad just wanted to talk about some “future” stuff…”

Prompto frowns, Noctis can practically hear the sound of his lips turning down but he tips his head back down to look just in case he’s wrong. He’s not.

“What kind of “future” stuff?”

He really, really wishes Prompto didn’t already sound so worried, but he supposes he has the right. After all the last few times this sort of thing had come up it had resulted in Noctis and Regis fighting, since Regis had initially not wanted Noctis to marry Prompto and then later Noctis hadn’t wanted to face his father’s mortality.

“It’s the ‘Noctis you must produce an heir’ kind. I was kinda hoping he’d forget about that.”

Prompto’s expression is concerned and worried for a brief moment and then a smile spreads and he laughs, like Noctis doesn’t recognize the defenses by now.

“Oh! Well we can’t have a kid dude, so what, does he want you to cheat on me?”

Noctis groans and shakes his head, moving to the couch in their apartment and flopping down on it, loosening his tie as he goes.

“No, of course not, he loves you too much. He wants...he wants us to look for a surrogate.”

Prompto huffs but starts tugging off Noctis shoes anyways, “That’s a lady to carry your baby yeah?” 

Noctis snorts and nods, letting his eyes slip closed as he relaxes a little.

“Do you have to sleep with her or can we just...I don’t know, turkey baster thing it?”

 “It’s called in vitro. Turkey-baster...you’ve been watching shitty 80’s movies again haven’t you?”

Prompto laughs and Noctis feels a little more of the tension leave him, it’s a genuine sound and he’s glad Prompto’s at least willing to talk about this, even if it is awkward as hell.

“I only watched like..a couple! And you’re not answering my question Noctis!”

The slight raise of Prompto’s voice belied his genuine concern and Noctis opened his eyes again, sitting up and catching one of Prompto’s hands in his, stroking his thumbs over the skin.

“Hey, hey...I don’t have to sleep with her, at least, I shouldn’t. We can do IVF stuff and everything. WE have to agree on who it is too...I told dad I wouldn’t do it if you were too against it or we couldn’t find someone we both liked.”

He presses a kiss to Prompto’s freckled cheek and tugs his lover’s hand again so he steps around the arm of the couch and sits, letting Noctis scoot around until his head is in Prompto’s lap.

Long fingers shift through his hair and Noctis smiles a little against the fabric of Prompto’s lazy day yoga pants. He always likes coming home to him, but even more when Prompto’s dressed comfy, Noctis’ own smell clings to him in his borrowed shirt and the Prince relaxes further.

“I have no idea who to ask even...and they have to be willing and in good health.”

Prompto hums thoughtfully, “What about Cindy?”

 Noctis groans, Prompto’s maybe still a little infatuated with the royal mechanic. His husband chuckles and pokes his cheek.

“Not that! Dude, she’s...she kinda looks like me.”

Prompto’s tone takes on an odd strained note and Noctis rolls too look up at him, seeing the way he tries to hide what he’s thinking, but it’s there still, to Noctis.

“Oh.”

Prompto gives him a quick smile and a raised eyebrow.

“You think it might look more like our kid then?”

Prompto’s nod is a little sheepish and he bites at his lip, but Noctis takes a moment to imagine, not a child of his and Cindy’s, but a baby with Prompto’s almost curls and blue-black hair, big blue eyes and a smattering of freckles, Prompto’s nose and Noctis’ mouth. His chest tightens oddly and he looks away from Prompto, staring at the ceiling.

He thinks about how Cindy’s features will change the image, maybe green eyes and skin more tan, true curls. It’s too close and too far at the same time and he swallows hard.

“I dunno man.”

Prompto shrugs, “Yeah, freckles and your skin? Probably not a great look.”

He still looks a little put out though and Noctis taps his nose.

“It’s not the freckles Prom. If anything, it’s the accent.”

That draws a laugh from him and Noctis grins, leaning up for a languid kiss. “We’ve got time.”

He mutters, against lips that are quickly becoming more interested in not-talking.

“I’ve taken the liberty of drawing up a list of options for you and Prompto to consider. They are by no means the only women who might be suitable, but certainly those I thought you would be comfortable with.”

 Noctis accepts the file with all the grace of an alligator with indigestion and Ignis frowns at him.

“Iggy...come on, it’s a bit early for all of this don’t you think?”

Ignis presses his fingers together, leveling his trademark advisors stare at Noctis,

“Normally I would agree, but the council is pushing for a decision to be made. You’ve been married nearly two years now and it’s no secret how long you dated before then, they seem to believe you should be looking toward your duty now. You’re father’s health is not declining nearly as quickly as it was before the treaty, but they are cautious. No one can know how long it may take to conceive and if your first choice is not...optimal, adjustments must be made.”

Noctis flinches, fingers pressing harder where he’s gripping the file, too many reminders of how little time there may be until he finds himself crowned.

 “And they know that once I put on the ring, I’ll hardly have the energy to raise a child.”

He can’t help the bitterness of the words as he looks aside, it’s something he tries not to think about, something Prompto’s good at dismissing, even though they both know there will come a day when he can’t keep up with the energetic blonde. It’s an icy grip around his heart now.

Ignis’ voice breaks through the melancholy, “Noct, you can’t know that. The draw of the crystals lessens all the time. The scourge is being eradicated and it’s power isn’t so needed.You’ll have plenty of time. I...I believe taking this, “ he touches the folder, the advisor is gone, replaced by the friend, “and thinking about the woman you’re looking for will calm the council’s frenzy, give you and Prompto time to find who you want and to adjust to the thought of a child. It’s why I took this task as well, so there would be no one pushing for a hasty choice.”

Noctis nods slowly, watching Ignis sit back in his chair, light blue dress shirt perfectly pressed, well fitted grey slacks and perfectly matched belt, shoes, and cufflinks. He looks down at himself, a loose tee and a borrowed pair of Prompto’s work out pants, barefoot. 

“I...I haven’t thought much...about the actually having a kid part.”

Ignis seems to know, as usual, what his concern is, “That’s why I thought it important for you to have time. For what it’s worth, I believe you and Prompto will make very capable, if somewhat unorthodox, parents.”

 Noctis swallows, the folder in his grasp weighs more than it should,

“Thanks, Ig.”

Prompto’s notes are filled with smiley faces and Noctis just rolls his eyes and he moves the one covering the woman’s name. It’s not particularly familiar and it takes him a long moment to place her face.

“The wedding...she came with someone?”

Prompto shrugs, “Dunno, I thought she was pretty, you should have pretty babies.”

He scoops another bite of fro-yo up, “but she’s also got a few health problems and we don’t know her at all, so...eh?”

Noctis snorts and pulls her information out, settling her into the pile of “no” that is growing far too quickly beside them on the large bed. He finds there’s a few of them he might be alright with but Prompto’s good at pointing out the cons of most of them. He’s trying not to be too happy about that, after all it would be easier if they could just chose someone.

He dismisses the next woman immediately, he remembers her, the way she sneered at Prompto, “Common folk are not welcome at my gala’s, but I suppose our young Prince is still learning.”

Prompto glances at her face and sticks his tongue out at the photo, “She was so displeased when I didn’t let her come to our reception.”

Noctis raises an eyebrow at him, even as he takes a bite and says, “what?” around a glob of fro-yo.

“Ignis is around too much if you’re saying “displeased” give me my husband back.”

Prompto grins and immediately has to slurp a little of the melting treat off his chin. Noctis just bumps his shoulder and looks back at the folder, a surprised sound tumbling out.

“Luna?”

Prompto sounds just as surprised, his notes ended the one before, though after a moment’s thought he nods, “Doubt Nyx’d like that.”

 Noctis just stays quiet, touching the picture of the oracle. He glances at Prompto, who has already dismissed her, and back to the photo.

“I mean...we do know her pretty well.”

 Prompto’s face goes blank so fast that Noctis feels his stomach curl, “Yeah. We know you’re almost-wife really well. I love Luna Noct, but it’s not a good idea.” “

Why?”

 It’s more accusatory than he means but Prompto doesn’t get angry, just sets his spoon and bowl aside and takes a deep breath.

“There’s still people who think it shoulda been her right? If you have a kid with her...it’s only gonna get worse. Our marriage will seem weaker and Luna’s having the same trouble we did since Nyx is kinda like me. We don’t wanna do that to her, or to us. I...I don’t know if I’d be okay with it too.”

Prompto rubs his hand over his wrist and Noctis bites back his instinctive comments, thinking. Prompto’s right and really, looking back at Luna’s picture, he can’t imagine having a child with her now, not to mention the Blood of the Oracle mess it might make. He sets the photo aside and leans to swipe a finger through Prompto’s yogurt, kissing his cheek apologetically.

“You’re right but this...ugh. It’s so stupid! How are we supposed to choose some woman? What if they want to raise the kid too? They have to be someone we can be around a lot, because I don’t want to make them stay away or anything...I just thought...Luna would be easier for us that way.”

Prompto nods, “I know Noct. I have no clue dude, who else is left?”

They scoot closer, shoulder to shoulder in the middle of their bed and look at the next person. Crowe’s a friend, but she’s already told them both she never wants a kid, too much chance of her dying in service and she’s just..not good with them. They don’t say anything as they set her aside, there’s no way Ignis could’ve known. 

The last person in the file makes Noctis cough and Prompto whistles, Iris Amicitia.

 “That’s….”

Prompto doesn’t have to finish the sentence as he stares at the picture of Iris, old enough now of course but still he remembers her a few years back. Noctis just groans and flops back, disturbing their pitiful yes pile.

 “If Ignis wants us dead, he could just poison us.”