#What to do if a Bird Delivers Your Mail

[thatsbelievable]

[deadghosy]

THANKS TO @lazyemmy FOR THIS LOVELY IDEA OF THE PENGUIN! READER💗🦆

HAZBIN HOTEL X PENGUIN! READER

prompt: during one extermination an angel had kidnapped you and took you to heaven based off a common mistake

“Quack?” You were literally trying to water the hotel’s flowers when you forgot about extermination….the leader of the exterminators had grabbed you by your sailor outfit Velvette made you.

“Shut your mouth short stuff.” You heard a man’s voice to see a person wearing a horned mask and a golden robe. You panicked as Charlie had told you about a man like this as Adam scoffs seeing your panicked state.

“JEEZ CHILL OUT YOU FUCKIN' BIRD BRAIN!” Adam yells as he enters in the portal of heaven with the exterminators behind him. He plops you down on the clouded floors to see the heavenly gates Charlie tells you in stories

As you waddled you seen a male who seemed to be waiting for you. “Ah! Reader..so glad to have you. It seems as if heaven had made a mistake and sent you to hell.” St. Peter said as he picks you up having the gates open. Your eyes widen at the bright light of heaven as angels walk and smile. “Welcome to your true home [reader]”

The air smelt so clean and not bloody as it seemed so peaceful and holy. After St. Peter getting your room and home ready to stay in heaven. You start to feel a little “home” sick as you hope the hotel crew was doing well and aren’t going crazy.

Which they totally are as Charlie is panicking calling her father.

After a few days , Adam will visit you a lot saying how he got forced to look after you…(he wasn’t forced he just liked how cute and pure you are but he’ll never admit it) Adam makes dumb ass jokes about how all those sinners down there should die and perish as he pats you on your little head. You quacked trying to show some worry for your friends down there.

“Oh them? Hah! They’re probably running like headless chickens looking for your ass.” Adam says with his usual grin as he pops some popcorn in his mouth. “Want some?” He says as he waves a piece of popcorn in your face. you sniffed it and ate it from his hand as adam's eyes widen at your cuteness…

you're like a little baby..💗😭😭😭

Adam grabs your chubby cold cheeks as he faces you towards him. “Never leave here. Okay?” He says seriously low with a protective tone as you quack nodding nervously at how quick this dude got attached to you.

Adam pushes your face away from him smirking. “Good now let’s watch this video I saw off of this human app called ‘TikTok’”

Lute didn’t know how to approach you, but she sends you small gifts that reminds her of you as you just open them like “quack?” And a head tilt confused but take it in anyways.

I imagine lute literally being your bodyguard when you don’t have any work to do as she just pushes anyone who gets to close to you away. LIKE IT COULD BE AN OLD LADY AND SHE WOULD BE LIKE “BITCH MOVE!”😭

After the 3rd day of the 1 week of being in heaven, lute definitely got overprotective of you. Always keeping tabs on where you go and which house you deliver mail to. I mean who knows what would happen to a cute soul like you? (A/n: Omg this sounds like a yandere…)

The angels love how adorable you are as they pet you. Immediately you are popular just like how you are popular in hell. Sera has given you a job as a mail boy again as you smile.

I can see St.Peter visit you when he isn’t on duty or just when someone takes his spot so he can say hi and hang out with you.

You wear a cute little yellow and white mail delivery fit thanks to sera who got a designer to get you to fit it perfectly.

You love how you still got your delivery job as you leave a cookie on the front porches of the angels. It’s like your significant signature to others to have a good day.

Adam and lute were arguing one time in front of you and you sniffled not liking the loud noises and immediately, and surprisingly. Adam and Lute pretended everything was okay to make you happy as Adam picked you up and took you away to get your favorite snack for you.

Sera checks on you as well with Emily by her side as Emily just finds you so cute and is excited to get to hang out with you more.

Emily immediately hugs and kisses your head amused by your small and kind soul she sees in you.

Sera would like to take you on stroll on week 2. She’d like to show you around heaven with Emily as she hold you in her arms gushing chow cute you are.

NOW I CAN IMAGINE YOU AND EMILY GOING ON A SHOPPING SPREE TO EXPLORE NEW CLOTHING AESTHETIC ✨💗

You showed yourself to be an angel by spirit as you helped a kid get a new lollipop, which makes sera smile at you being helpful as he is glad to hav with here in heaven and not they “ratchet” place.

You do miss hell as it had your friends who you got use to….you hoped they were still doing okay down there.

MEANWHILE IN HELL: “OMG OMG I CANT BELIEVE THEY GOT KIDNAPPED…IM A BAD FRIENDDD” “HON DONT WORRY, YOUR DAD CAN FIND A WAY TO GET THEM..” “it’s okay fat nuggets, they’ll come back…” *sad oink* and everyone else is having their own panic moment in their own way.

MEANWHILE BACK IN HEAVEN: “quack.” You said looking up at adam who holds your hand. “Huh? Jeeezzz bird brain..stop worrying about those loser down there…they’re fine without you.” Adam says smirking knowing damn well they aren’t .

Emily holds your hand as you waddle quacking at the ice creams around here. They taste so much better as your eyes sparkle at this sweet flavored treat. Emily squeals as her eyes got big and took a pic of your happy face. Sera most definitely got the picture on her heaven phone as her face soften seeing the new angel in heaven enjoying their self.

I imagine Adam is the one to be the one who claims to be the closest to you. But really he just brags about himself to you about how much sinners he kills.

I headcannon for your wings to be little cute fairy looking wings or pure white ones as you just fly.

You definitely have cherubim in heaven which makes the angels find you more adorable as the delivery boy.

You had made an account literally one day, and instantly you got 2 million followers which made you shock as Adam just munches on snacks while you quack panicked at how quick you became famous here.

I headcannon St. Peter to send you cookies with those cute little penguin designs on it. It looks like Christmas cookies but they are so cute and tasty

Say for example you fell and you couldn’t get up as you’re so rounded 😭 LITERALLY ALL YOU CAN DO IS ROLL AND SQEUAK AND QUACK💗 Adam is laughing as he takes a picture and video for himself before helping you up.

I can imagine Adam and Sera having a schedule out to plan who gets it hang out with you on weeks and days 😭

You liked the herbal tea they had as you waddle around with Adam having a kid leash on you as he just looked bored.

At the end of the week, you were sleeping wearing a whole ass cute gown Adam bought you as he literally dropped it on you with a flustered face seeing your cute smile.

As you slept…Lucifer snuck into heaven and snatched you up leaving a “fuck you” letter to Adam. Don’t even question how he got into heaven. Just be glad he took you.

[alexa-fika]

Rise of the Usurper (Doflamingo x gn!pigeon!reader)

A/N This is Doflamingo’s version of the messenger pigeon!reader that I wrote for Crocodile, I think crocodile’s makes me more fuzzy inside,maybe cause Doflamingo has 0 redemption and is a complete utter ass, but idk what do y’all think? We likey? We getting the fuzzy feels?

Dividers by @/saradika

” Fufufu~ Just the person I was waiting for,” Doflamingo cackles in his usual lax pose, leaning back on the throne, legs crossed and head leaning on his hand.

His smile widens as they struggle against his subordinates as he gestures them to leave the Reader and him alone

“What the hell do you want” They growl rubbing their arms as his crew-mates finally release them

“Oh the little birdy has claws~” He tilts his head.

“All I want to know is, Where were you going, fufu? I send you to do some deliveries, and next, I know you’re trying to leave Dressrosa?”

“I don’t work for you; I work for the King of Dressrosa, and that definitely is not you.”

“Oh, is that right? And where is this king now?”

“I don’t know what you did to him, but I know you were behind it; there is no way the king would do those things. He loves this kingdom and its people, and there is no way someone like you would just ‘pass by’ and happen to save the day.”

The smile on Doflamingo’s face starts to turn a little twisted

“So, the pigeon has some brains to back them up. Too bad; you’re in my land now, my territory now. You should watch that little tongue. I won’t have it insulting me like that”.

“I’ll admit you’re an interesting little creature. But you should be careful, little pigeon. What you are saying about me is a real offense. I’ve killed for much less.”

“Like you killed King Riku?”

“Fuffuffuffu”

In the blink of an eye, they are quickly enveloped by Doflamingo’s strings, their struggles against them seemingly futile.

“Fuffuffuffu ~ You’re quite the little pest; I knew I liked you. But What you know could damage the image I’m projecting. Why don’t you be a nice bird and just do as you’re told, deliver what I tell you, and keep your mouth shut?”

“Like hell, I will!”

Doflamingo lets out a dry laugh

“Ah~ You are a feisty little one, aren’t you, Fufufu~”

The strings are slowly tightening up around them. Doflamingo smiles once more.

“If you’re the smart little birdy you’ve been trying to present yourself as you’ll see the merit in my suggestion.”

“I work for the Riku family. Not you.”

“The Riku family is nothing more than dirt on my shoe right now. Their King is dethroned and gone by my hand.”

“So, as I said, you can either keep your mouth shut and deliver what I want you to or…you wouldn’t want to become a flightless bird, would you? Fufufufufu~…” He laughs

Their eyes widen as they feel the unmistakable feeling of something wrapping around the base of their wings, and immediately move to shake it off

“Fufufufu…What do you choose? Keep your mouth shut and continue your service to me, the King, or lose them?“ he says as the strings slowly tighten

“Better decide quick; my strings are more than capable of slicing through those wings of yours.”

“Stop!”

Doflamingo raises a brow as the strings retract.

“Hm? You decided to shut up and listen to your king?”He giggles mockingly

They glare at him

“You are not a kind, much less my king,” they growl

His smirk just grows at the comment as he motions the strings to return and slowly, once more, coil around the base of their wings

“I am a king because I took it by force; I am kind to those who swear their allegiance to me. So, one more time. Will you listen to your king and stop talking back?”

“I’ll continue working as the Royal Mail, but you can go to hell if you think I'll acknowledge you as a king; you are simply a usurper.”

There is a beat of silence before Doflamingo laughs

“Oh, you really are something,” he says.

“You think I care about your little petty words? I rule this country; people here acknowledge me as king, and I am the rightful ruler; you can tell yourself whatever lies you want in your little bird head of yours, but at the end of the day, you’re just going to be a mail pigeon, and I’m the one sitting on the throne. Fufufufu,” he laughs, releasing the strings enveloping all around their body

“Now come here,” he said, calling them closer to the throne

They stand their ground, glaring at the man sitting on the throne

He raises a brow, and his smirk returns.

“You know how this will end; how about you save yourself the trouble and come up

here”

They grit their teeth, knowing that if they continue to stand their ground, he would

Simply puppeteer them towards him, so they decided to at the least make their advance with them controlling their own limbs, climbing up the stairs, and standing in front of him

He smiles.

“Ah~ There you go, fufu. I knew my birdy had some brains. Now kneel down.”

“Like hell, I will.”

“I’ll ask one more time nicely; if you don’t, then I’ll force you.”

“Do it then.”

His smile widens once more as he raises a hand, summoning his strings again. The strings once more wrap around their body.

“Kneel….”

They grunt as the strings pull them down, effectively putting them into a kneeling position in front of the man, a whine escaping them as they feel him clasp something at the base of both wings, furiously beating their wings to try to get rid of the intrusive pain

“ What are you doing?!”

Doflamingo laughs at the pain he is inflicting on Reader as they desperately try to break free

“I’m taking some precautions. You are a key factor for helping me take this country to supremacy, But that doesn’t mean you get to try and run away.”

“What did you do?”

“I put bomb collars at the base of your wings; this way, you’ll stay nice and obedient for me; keep that mouth shut about what you know, or lose the wings you so treasure,” he said, releasing the strings and allowing them to get up

“You miserable piec-

His smirk widens as he places his hand on their mouth

“Hm? Fufu…you’re getting noisy again,” he laughed.

“I hate to say it, but it looks like your life as you knew it is over; now you’ll work for me. For the rest of your time, you are my little delivery bird, both personal and royal.”

“You won’t get away with this.”

Doflamingo laughs

“It looks like I already did. You’re nothing more than a little messenger, a servant for me now.” he laughs

“A servant who knows too much and will keep their mouth. But don’t worry, little bird, your life isn’t over. I still have a lot of use for you. You’re pretty popular with the people, and I have a little plan that will put you in the limelight even more. So let’s see, I have some mail that I want to be delivered; why don’t you do that first, my servant.”

“Yes, they know me, so they will believe me when I tell them what you did,” they say, slapping away his hand.

“You underestimate the hold I have on my subjects; they just saw me save them from a tyrannical and raging king. You’ll be known as a messenger who is loyal to the crown, and in due time, they will love you for just that. Your words are as meaningless as a bird chirp. You’re a smart little birdy, but you forgot one crucial thing: I’m the king, and I run this country. No one will believe you.” He taunts them

“And after they ignore your pleas as you try to tell them what you saw, I'll just drag you back, and I'll blow those little wings off you, and you'll find out how kind I truly am being right now, so be smart and keep your mouth shut.”

They grit their teeth, knowing that as much as they hated him, as big as an usurper as he was, he wasn’t wrong; the citizens all believed him to be a hero, a bystander who had saved them for no reason other than to help the people.

He smiled; the pigeon was finally getting the picture that they had no chance; they were no match for the new king of Dressrosa.

“Good little birdy, now get out my sight; you have some mail to deliver.”

“You will one day regret this; pay for this; I will make sure of it.” They said, spreading their wings and turning around

Doflamingo bursts out laughing.

“I’m sure you will, little birdy, I’m sure you will. But for now, your role is to do what I say and nothing more, and like I said, I have lots of plans for you.”

So? Thoughts? Opinions? How did out resident asshole made you feel? Should I make a part two for this one as well? Should I do this series with someone else too? Im also working or part three for Crocodile’s right now, right after I finish and post a wholesome piece I will get to editing that one 👀, gotta level the feels.

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

[jacenotjason]

The Opposite AU Phone Calls!

[The phone rings 4 times before its answered] [soft music can be heard]

Good evening. This is Barn’s Books, can I help you? [silence]

Hello? [the sound of a page turning]

[silence, theres rustling as Barnaby turns off the music.]

Is anyone there?.. Is this a prank call? [He whispers] I’m sorry, dear, I don’t know what you want me to say. I-if you’re speaking I can’t hear you. [silence]

Ah, well.. Come down to the library if you need to speak to me! I’d love to see what this call was for.. Goodbye! [he hangs up]

[The phone rings 2 times before its answered]

Hello? This is Julie Joyful speaking.

[silence]

Hello? ..Are you there?

[silence]

What is this, some kind of game? Listen, I’m not interested in playing with you, Frank, I’m really busy! I was in the middle of writing my next show and you interrupted my creative mind!

[silence]

Whatever.. [she hangs up]

[the phone only rings once before its answered]

Hellllooooooo~! You’ll have to speak up, I have bleach in my hair!

[silence]

[louder] Hello!! [silence]

Is this some sort of game? Should I say something? Is it a- oh! Is it a joke!? Oh! Oh! Whose there? No, wait! You say knock knock, then I say whose there!..

[silence]

[he giggles] I don’t think you know how this goes. Welllll, go ahead and call back when you figure it out!! Bye byee!! [they hang up]

[the phone is answered in the middle of the 5th ring]

[Eddie groans and speaks like he just woke up] Hello..?

[silence]

Hello?

[silence]

For fuck- hey, dickass, I don’t have time for this. I was in the middle of sleeping off a hangover and I thought this was an emergency, because thats the only fucking reason people here call me, so I woke up! Now, I gotta go do this stupid- mail delivering bullshit hungover. If someone gets stabbed or punched or kicked or cursed out, its your fault, asswipe. [he abruptly hangs up] 

[The phone is answered in the middle of the first ring]

[a fake, cheery tone] You’re callin’ Howdy’s Place! The only store in Home, [said with a laugh], Howdy speakin’.

[silence]

..? I said, this is Howdy’s Place! The only store in Home, home of everything you want and things you didn’t know you needed! For prices seen no where else!

[silence, with a repeating sound as Howdy tapped on the counter]

[he drops the cheery tone] This ain’t funny. My time is money, and if I’m not getting paid I don’t have time. So if you’re not callin’ to order something, I’m gonna ask ya to not use this line. 

[Howdy’s tone changes as he thinks, no longer speaking to you] Hm.. Maybe I can charge for prank calls.. [a chuckle] hm, kill two birds with one stone. Paid, and no more stupid calls..

[he clears his throat and talks on the phone again] Well! This has been delightful. So long! [he hangs up]

[the phone rings 5 times and seems like its not going to be answered. It’s answered just before it’s ignored]

[silence]

[some shuffling]

…Julie?

[silence]

…Howdy? Eh- Eddie?

[silence, a long, shaky inhale can be heard]

[her voice cracks, like shes going to cry] bye.

[she hangs up.]

[the phone hardly has a chance to ring before it is answered]

[loud music can be heard]

Yo!

[silence, the sound of Poppy moving things can be heard]

What’s up, kiddo? [she says a little louder] Sally? That you? [the music is turned down]

Hello? Anyone there? I don’t wanna hang up on ya, but if you’re not gonna answer, I got things to do..

[silence]

Alright, well.. If its an emergency, feel free to call right back! Or, come see me! My doors always open! Love ya!

[she hangs up]

[millie-multifics]

Though I Yearn • Part 5

Masters of the Air

Secret Admirer x Reader

A string of anonymous letters causes a stir at Thorpe Abbotts. Who could be the author of the tender correspondence you have been receiving?

Warnings: Gossip, mentions of death, mentions of cheating, singular use of a petname.

Word Count: ~1.3k

Masterlist Previous Next- Coming Soon!

x x x

After Douglass had made a big fuss, words of the letters had spread across Thorpe Abbotts like wild fire. Everyone was pointing their fingers at possible culprits, bringing the once quiet situation to absolute chaos. It had been weeks since a letter had arrived, the writer forced into hiding from the attention. The men had gone to Africa, their numbers dwindling on the journey, a few notable losses were Curt and Dickie. Replacements had arrived- you held such a hatred for that word.

You craved your own peace more and more as the days passed by. You had found a spot in the empty field passed the runways that was void of people, Lemmons crew left you alone.

“What are you doing out here?” Blakely’s boots crunced the weeds as he approached, his shadow blocking the sun from your eyes as they fluttered open.

“It’s usually quiet out here,” Your tone was teasing, “No questions, accusations or chatter. Just the birds, the breeze and occasionally the hum of a few planes. What are you doing out here?”

“You’ve got mail.”

You sat upright, brushing blades of grass from where they stuck to your dress. “New duty, Blakely?”

“You know you can call me Everett, I’d like to think we are friends of some sort.” He huffed as he handed over the mail. Three envelopes: one from home, one with a return adress of New York City and finally a new letter that was missing a return adress.

“Did Douglass send you out here? Since he is ever so concerned that he couldn’t help himself but to corner me in front of atleast half the company.”

“Carrier said they hadn’t seen you all day, entrusted me with your mail but you really ought to talk to Dougie, he feels terrible for bringing you attention like that.”

“I believe Lieutenant Dye’s celebration is underway, I thought you would be there?” You changed the subject, avoiding Blakely’s words just as you had been avoiding the man they were about.

“I’ll keep an eye out for you later on, save me a dance?”

You sent him a nod of agreement, waiting for him to be out of sight before turning your attention to the letters he had delivered.

You read the letter from home first, it was filled with the ususal wishes for your wellbeing and updates on events or gossip that you had missed. You did not recognize the loopy femine cursive on the envelope adressed from New York and it felt very thin between your fingertips. You open the flap, revealing only a single photograph inside. A man and woman in a busy street, he was handsome in his dress greens and she donned a plain yet elegant wedding gown… but it was not just a photograph of two strangers. Your fingertips gently ran over the mans face, absorbing his features as this was the first time you had set eyes on him since he had left you broken hearted on his porch not quite a year ago. There was a date written on the back of the picture, August 20 1943.

Despite the deep ache in your chest from the photograph, a spark of excitment filled you as you opened the third envelope. There had been a drought of letters from your Secret Admirer since the secret flooded the base, you had missed reading his words more than you had liked to admit.

“I did not intend to draw such attention and for that I must apologize. I have come to the conclusion if any of the men were to find out that these clandestine correspondence were written by me, I would be heckled for my aberrant ways. I am not perceived as a romantic, many see me to be brash and arrogent but since I met you I have been reformed. I feel a fool to be so cowardess with my affections while the possibility of death looms so heavily but I fear my mind over heart mentality will not crumble.”

Your mind spun, it was someone unexpected but who? With each letter you felt more more drawn to his words and your eagerness to discover the identity of the writer grew.

You clutched the recent letter and the photograph to your chest as you lay in the field, unbothered by the setting sun.

Hours had passed, the field had been swallowed by darkness but your body felt too heavy to move under the weight of the papers on your chest. The quiet yet rough trampling of the tall grass behind you alerted you to a new presence.

“If Blakely told you I was out here then he can find himself another dance partner.” You spoke loudly, nearly startling the man as he had not seen your silhoutte on the ground in the darkness, despite actively searching for you.

“That is a shame.”

The voice was unexpected, you honestly had expected it to be Douglass or DeMarco, maybe even Blakely with the intention of dragging you to the party but surely not Major Egan.

“Major, I thought you would be at Dye’s celebration?” Your eyes found his through the darkness as he now towered over you.

“I could say the same for you. Blakely mentioned you were out here earlier but when you failed to show at the party some of the men got worried. I volunteered to come check on you, I don’t think it’s safe to be out here in the dark like this.”

“I would hate to damper the celebration.”

“It got dampered anyway, sweetheart,” He moved to lay on the ground next to you, unbothered by any stains the grass may leave on his uniform, “By the men we have lost and the men we will lose.”

It was quiet for awhile, both enjoying the silent company of another person, unaware of the battling thoughts happening in the others brain. Your worries felt silly compared to his, he had lost friends and men under his command, you briefly wondered if he had volenteered to find you to escape the ghosts of them at the party.

It was silent for a moment before the Major spoke again, “The stars sure are pretty out here.”

Your eyes searched around the clouds, only a few bright stars visable in the dark of the night. “When they peek out of the clouds anyway.”

“Are you alright?”

The genuine concern in his question had taken you off guard. You took a second to debate how much you were willing to share with the Major as every aspect of your life had been previously aired, but remembered divulging a little to him before Dougie had brought attention. You handed the Major the photo you had recieved, glancing over as he angled it under the moonlight to see it clearly. “Before the war, it was all him, he was the one I would marry and bare my soul to. Suddenly everything changed, he had enlisted and just a week before our wedding I discovered that he was being unfaithful. I was foolishly willing to forgive him but he chose her, now they are married and I am here; my lonely soul wondering what is next for me, if my soulmate is out there somewhere or perhaps I am just unlucky and he won’t make it through this war so I shall forever be alone.”

You swallowed harshly, washing the thickness from your throat as your eyes burned looking up at the stars.

“What of your writer?” Egan returned the picture, his eyes scanning your face as the grass fanned your cheeks in the soft night breeze.

“How am I supposed to call someone mine if I don’t even know their name?” You sighed, heavily as if to lesson the weight, “I wish I could tell him that he makes the ache in my heart bearable.”

x x x

@jointherebellion215 @orchiidflwer

[mixelation]

hi, i don't know if you've answered this before but i'm just wondering how you go about worldbuilding. i'm a newbie writer and worldbuilding is Very Scary to me, so if there's like? a cool epic secret i haven't been told. or maybe i'm just meant to bash my head against the wall until it works. i dunno, i think your stuff is great, have an awesome day.

ummm man i think it's something you just jump into. with a fantasy setting basically every decision you make about what your characters do will be worldbuilding. i think the biggest thing is just to be aware of that? like if you write a character getting a paycheck in the mail, then you've just implied that your world has a mail system and checks, and also some things about how payroll works. this also scales up to bigger things: character motivations will be shaped by their surrounding historical and cultural circumstances.

i think another thing to keep in mind is that you do not have to go into great detail with most things, and many times it's actually BETTER not to go into detail. for example, naruto shows messages being delivered by bird. so i once did some research into how people historically have used messenger birds, and that was a horrible dark rabbit hole to go down because the answer is basically: there's no "realistic" way to make it work the way it does in fic, so you have to either have magic birds or just handwave it LMAO.

other advice i would give new writers: you literally cannot please everyone, so just write what you want to. i know several people who lose their minds over historically accurate clothing, but i cannot make myself care about that. i will notice if you have no idea how a research lab works, but most people don't care and won't notice. some readers will complain to you about things they themselves are literally wrong about. these things don't matter. write what you think is interesting.

[tornadoyoungiron]

TRAINTOBER | Day 24 - Odd Jobs

Truro misses pulling the mail train. Percy offers him his run.

~~~

When Percy arrived at the mail warehouse, he wasn’t at all expecting any else to be there. After all, why would they be? The mail train was his job and his alone. It had been for decades upon decades.

When he couldn’t pull the train for any reason, the mail was delivered by Thomas or Harold. And occasionally Harold would usurp it from him and cause confusion and delay!

Today however he didn’t find the fangled whirly-bird or a blue E2. Instead he found the tender of a green engine that looked about the same size as Edward. Percy frowned in annoyance.

The mail train was his job, his! No one had any business taking it from him or being there! Why was this stranger there? Was he taking his job? How infuriating!

Percy blasted his whistle and hissed steam at the engine as he passed.

“Excuse me! You’re in my way! The Mail train is my job! Clear off would you!” Percy declared, the irritation clear in his voice. 

The other engine looked at him and it’s eyes widened in surprise, looking sheepish as he did so.

“Oh! I do apologise!” The engine replied in a kindly warm voice. “Forgive me but I merely wished to indulge in nostalgia.”

“Oh,” Percy addressed the other engine confused before he glanced at the engine and he suddenly went red with embarrassment. “City of Truro?”

“Good evening Percy,” the famous Great Western engine greeted him with a pleasant smile. “It’s good to see you enthusiastic and enjoying your work!”

“Um, yes, the mail train is my favourite job on the island,” Percy exclaimed and City of Truro chuckled. 

“I can see that, not many engines would defend a simple mail run job like you do,” Truro observed him. “I’m very glad that you do. I’ll be on my way and out your steam Percy.”

The larger engine began to roll away but Percy, overwhelmed with curiosity could help but call him back.

“What do you mean by nostalgia?” He asked the Great Western and City of Truro paused and gazed at Percy.

“When I worked on the Great Western Railway my main job with to pull Mail Trains,” Truro explained. “It was a good job and I did it well.”

“You pulled Mail trains?!” Percy was perplexed. “But, I thought you were a passenger engine! Like Gordon or Edward!”

“Well, not all the time, only when they needed a faster engine than the tank engines to do so,” Truro smiled. “Express mail was my specialty! I believe they named one of the passenger services because of it.”

“Wow! I didn’t know that!”

Truro chuckled in response.

“Well, actually, I was put on the mail train for being outspoken and causing a bit of chaos on the railway,” he winked at Percy. “Don’t tell Duck but I was a horrendous little scamp back in the day. For me, being put on the mail train was a bit of an achievement. I used to race around and knock coaches around. So unidignified as Gordon would say!”

“Really? You? But you’re so well behaved and proper!” Percy exclaimed in awe and Truro just gave a sad laugh.

“Yes, well, that changed when I was sent for scrap and the Great Western refused to save me,” he lamented. “It was a lesson that was driven into this old engine rather harshly.”

Percy looked at the rails before him, disheartened. Truro saw this and gave him an encouraging smile.

“Enough lamenting Percy my friend,” Truro imparted to the Saddle-tank. “We have nothing but a bright future to look forward to now.”

Percy looked at the engine as he began to slip away into the red-orange light of dusk.

“Wait!” The Saddle-tank called and Truro glanced at him expectantly. “Would you like to pull the mail train tonight?”

Truro’s eyes lit up with joy but his expression remained firm.

“My dear engine, I cannot possibly take your train away from you,” the Great Westeern insisted. “Such a thing would be improper.”

“You won’t be!” Percy chirped. “You’ll need someone to navigate you right?” 

City of Truro stared at Percy for a moment and then gave a smile of appreciation. 

“I suppose I would,” he agreed and begun to return to the warehouse. “I would think of no better guide than an expert!”

Percy grinned, proud of himself for being called an expert.

“Thank you for this my good engine,” Truro thanked him. “This means a lot to me.”

“It’s my pleasure City of Truro!”

~~~

[lets-try-some-writing]

Hi I hope your well I really enjoy your content it makes my brain go brrrr with thoughts

One that’s currently stuck in my hamster wheel is Starscream knitting like a madman and I hope you wouldn’t mind answering but I was wondering the autobots reaction to receiving the items Starscream knits and them finding out about Starscream side hustle? And how Starscream gives them the stuff like does he chuck it at them during battle or does he sneak it to them at random moments or does he know where their base is at and just walks in like it’s normal and aggressively hands them the knitted goods. What does this birdcat dooo????

I have a lot of questions and scenarios running in my head like Starscream does chuck the knitted stuff at the autobots and everyone on the battlefield take real good care not to damage it because Screamer will throw a fit over it all except Megatron he don’t care

Anyways have a good evening/day or whatever time it is

HA! I love this thought! Starscream just straight up waltzing into base like its no big deal is fantastic! I will gladly do a little writing for this!

Special Delivery

Starscream is the self proclaimed greatest knitter ever, and as such he must have every bot bask in the glory of his works, even the Autobots. However since he can't exactly mail them a package like he does for his human customers, he has come up with interesting round about solutions when it comes to getting the Autobots his knitted Knick knacks.

He has a unique way of delivering his "gifts" to each Autobot, purely because he likes watching them squirm. Starting with Bumblebee, Starscream thinks it is downright hilarious to toss his black and red box with a sweater or some other clothing item covered in curses at the scout. Starscream usually drops the box from the air and he always aims for the helm, simply because watching Bumblebee flail as a box gets dropped on him is funny. Bumblebee does not tend to appreciate these gifts and more often than not flips Starscream the bird as he rubs his helm and gathers up the box. Bumblebee will then take the box back to base and hang up whatever Starscream made in his closet. He isn't fond of wasting things, especially when the things Starscream makes are surprisingly tasteful when they aren't covered in slurs.

Bulkhead get's his "gifts" delivered to him under the guise of other things like bombs. Starscream thinks it is the greatest thing ever to throw down a canister modeled to look like a bomb but really only containing his knitted items. He always has a wicked grin on his face as he watches the large lumbering wrecker scramble to get as far away as possible, usually getting into some rather poor positions before realizing Starscream's trick. If no one else is around except him and Starscream, Bulkhead will hurl the worst curses he can come up with on the spot. Usually it ends up being rather pathetic but Starscream only finds it funny as he flies away, prepared to pull the same prank another day. Bulkhead tends to huff, grab the canister in anger, and crush it, not caring for the knitted item inside.

Arcee gets her "gifts" via the cruelest jump scares ever. Starscream knows of her sour history with Arachnid and has made it his goal in life to be as bothersome as possible when delivering her "gifts". He usually attaches the box to one of those human made spider robots and then drives it toward Arcee, usually scaring her as the sound is similar to what Arachnid makes when she is near. Arcee tends to blast those spiders, and consequently the box, into nothing but slag and smoldering cinders. And so Starscream also tosses her boxes during conflict, which when opened, have small spider figurine pop up like some sick jack in the box. These "gifts" receive similar treatment to the ones attached to the robots and Starscream can't bring himself to mind the loss of the knitted item as he basks in Arcee's terrified expression and occasional cries of horror.

Ratchet gets his "gifts" the most tame way due to how much respect Starscream holds for the medic, although he will never admit it. Ratchet's gifts are always politely shipped to Agent Fowler's home address and the agent then brings them with him when he visits the base. If Starscream wanted to he could have left a tracker in the box, but to him that feels a little too much like foul play for his tastes, and so he never bothers. When Ratchet receives the box he always looks at it in distain but opens it up nonetheless. There is usually either an aggressive note or a holodisk with a recorded message of Starscream taunting him. Ratchet tends to sigh, destroy the message as quickly as possible, and pull out whatever knitted thing Starscream sent him. So far he has received several collars (a jab at his loyalty to Optimus) which he has destroyed, a few aprons with all sorts of nasty curses on them, and a few blankets depicting Starscream's glory (Ratchet has given those to the children to use on movie nights).

Wheeljack gets his "gifts" in the form of a high speed chase through the skies when he is in his ship, or during his rapid escape from Starscream who will tail him from the air if Wheeljack is stuck on the ground. In both situations, Starscream will airdrop his box toward Wheeljack, often beaning him directly on the helm when he is out of his ship, causing some canisters on the outside to explode into a sticky mess to keep him from outright blowing up Starscream's "gift". Wheeljack then tends to return to base in a foul mood with either his ship or himself covered in any number of substances, sometimes even glittery ones. The box has to be cut off his frame or ship and then he is forced to take a solvent bath just to get all the gunk off. By the time he gets around to opening the box he only finds himself more infuriated by Starscream's snarky notes and obnoxiously taunting knitted goods. The one time Wheeljack wore one of Starscream's knitted capes into battle to try and mock the seeker via imitation, he ended up getting the stupid thing caught on a rock nearly sending him hurtling off a cliff. He has since stopped bothering attempting to get back at Starscream, the laughs of the seeker are still too fresh in his mind.

Ultra Magus received nothing from Starscream for months, putting the commander slightly on edge. And when he finally did receive a box, it was quiet, no fanfare whatsoever, and instantly a cause for concern. The box is generally left just... hanging around in the middle of nowhere with a beacon attached meant for Ultra Magnus. When the commander turns up to collect the thing he is always on edge as the box is often left just inside of a confined space or an area perfect for an ambush. He brings a long stick with him whenever he goes to get the boxes, the stories the other members of the team warning him against collecting it directly. He then uses the stick to poke the box, often with no visible reaction, at which point he will collect it with no small amount of paranoia and open it there to check for trackers. When he finds none, he will finally open the box, always finding an angry looking stuffed version of himself about the size of his digit... which have exploded a few times, leaving Ultra Magnus in shock. He then becomes hyper alert for weeks afterward, and when nothing happens and he starts to calm, his box explodes again, renewing his paranoia.

Where Ultra Magnus gets his boxes in the most quiet ways, Smokescreen gets his "gifts", in one of the most loud. Starscream has paid a group of Vehicons in high quality energon and a few favors to chase Smokescreen around while on the battlefield and stalk him on patrols. The Vehicons hardly ever do anything besides being the most irritating things on the planet. They will carry around boomboxes blasting awful earth music and sized up nerf bullets and squirt guns. They then use their varied tools to harass poor Smokescreen, shooting him in the optics with water or nerfing him in the side of the helm to distract him. And once they have bothered him to the point of him pulling out his blasters, they will do a taunting dance and yeet one of Starscream's boxes at him. Smokescreen either blasts it to bits or takes the box and often finds knitted keys to the omega lock or an imitation of some other relic. Starscream's goal was for his imitations to be aggravating for Smokescreen, but the rookie in all his social obliviousness has just considered them neat and keeps them on a shelf in his room.

As for Optimus, it is not the delivery that Starscream puts all his malice into, no, its what he gives the Prime that he focuses on. Whenever there is a lull in battle, Starscream will calmly walk up waving a white flag, hand Optimus a box, and retreat to continue fighting or flee. When Optimus returns to base and opens the box, if is always some hideously ugly clothing item or something obviously meant for more... scandalous displays. And yet Optimus, after calling upon his long cultivated Archivist passive aggressive glory, always manages to make the items look good. A monstrously colored abomination of a scarf far too long to be any good is fashioned into a surprisingly stylish headwrap and combined with a solid colored sash to make a rather elegant, albeit a bit eccentric, adornment. A set of sized up human... dance clothing... is cut up and instead fashioned into something more useful like a satchel. Capes covered in depiction actively mocking Optimus's origins in the wilds are reworked, given a bit of fur lining and a brooch. Optimus will then wear those same capes like some terrifying warlord and own every insult sewn onto them. Starscream finds Optimus's work around's infuriating and has continued to try to make something so hideous or insulting that Optimus can do nothing with it.

So far he has failed.

The Autobots aren't quite sure what to make of Starscream's knitted goods, but most handle them on a case by case basis and write it off as one of Starscream's quirks. The human children on the other hand, find every instance of Starscream's boxes hilarious. Miko has a whole scrapbook devoted to the stuff that Starscream sends and how he sends them.

[leon-swedfinqs]

A Witch’s Letter

Anathema sends out a letter to the duo requesting help only one of them can truly provide.

Aziraphale gets some insight into other sides of his partner he was yet to be exposed to.

Crowley comes up with a compromise.

Read below the cut

Hell or any infernal torture dimension equivalent truly knew no fury like a dedicated Anathema Device. And now here she was, many strange paper trails and shoddy eye witness account later, clutching a parchment and watching as the mail carriage tumbled down the gravel road towards her. Upon seeing her silhouette against the shrubbery, the driver pulled back on the reigns of the feathered yet wingless bird lugging the trolley until it came to a stop before her.

“Madame” he tipped his hat to her before gesturing to her letter, “what’s this? Letter to a boy?”

“I’m not quite sure actually,” Anathema mumbled, recounting the multiple pronouns used to describe who she suspected to be the same person. Regardless, she held out the letter.

“Aw, young love. Reminds me of me and my Maud. I’ll make sure it gets to him in a few days, ma’am” he nodded as he took it from her.

“Actually,” she said as he other hand dug into her dress pocket and retrieved a small burlap pouch, “This needs to be delivered now. As soon as possible. Priority.”

She held out the sack, but the postman made no effort to take it.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but I can’t fast track any deliveries over others, even for a bribe. It would go against my oath, see,” he said. Anathema’s grip on the pouch tightened. The hard gold coins felt absolutely worthless in that moment.

Even though she’d normally prided herself on her cool temper, the postman seemed to have noticed a change in her expression. “Oh, I know the rate of snail mail can be frustrating, ma’am. At least we aren’t using giant snails anymore, aye? My old stead, Cepha, she did her time as a dedicated postal worker—lives at home in a happy retirement now. If you’re upset your note won’t get to your love before your anniversary or somethin, I’ll be sure to tell him it was my fault for the delay, alright?”

“It’s not for a partner,” Anathema mumbled, “It’s…it’s for a…a doctor, of sorts. The boy I tutor, he’s very ill. No one can help, this doctor may be my last hope,” her chin fell to her chest, “please, I can double my offer, I just need to get them here as soon as possible. I can get you more money, or I could-“

“Put the coins away, lass,” he said before she heard the trolley creek and two feet hit the ground. Slowly she looked up to find the postman looking at her letter in his hands. The corners of his mouth upturned in a smile, “I’ll do it. I’ll deliver this one, fast as you’ve ever seen. You have my word. In return I need no money, but I will need someone to finish my route for the day. Tomorrow another worker can cover, but today I’m out of luck. Would you-“

“YES!” Anathema gasped before quickly clearing her throat and regaining her composure, “oh, yes yes of course I will. Anything.”

The postman nodded before smiling, “we’ve got a deal then. Pick up and delivery list is in the front compartment, you’ll need to use your own stead to cart around the wares. And once you’re finished, just drop my cart off at the office on 3rd and Stenton in town.” Anathema nodded furiously at each instruction before the postman approached the large creature and pulled himself up onto the saddle. He undid the towing attachment and gave the creature a quick kick to the side. All at once, a bright yellow pair of wings sprouted from either side of its body.

“Give Adam my regards!” The postman called before with another kick, he took off into the sky.

~~~

Aziraphale was stubborn.

When he told crowley he was going to shill out money for a PO Box, crowley summoned the fattest eye roll he could muster. The type of people who used their services typically didn’t seek out specific blokes, just whoever was willing to do their dirty work. Not to mention they wouldn’t want to use the postal system.

Unsurprisingly, they received very few letters. They did occasionally get messages from previous clients or people they’d met on their journeys, that was welcomed. They also received a fair bit of junk mail—a concept Aziraphale didn’t initially understand and almost led him to sending their stash of gold to a ‘prince in need on a small loan.’

Even after Crowley pointed out that having a traceable place where their enemies could link them to could be dangerous, Aziraphale insisted, not out of disagreement but purely out of stubbornness. And now, finally was the day it was all paying off.

With his nose practically sniffing the sun, he placed the letter in front of crowley with a satisfied “hmph!”. Crowley only tilted his glasses down his nose and glances between the parchment and the satisfied cleric.

“What’s got you so pleased with yourself?” Crowley asked as he went back to whatever he was going, probably fiddling with a dagger.

“Take a look at this. You said it was silly, but ohhh it seems like our PO Box was truly useful. Especially because this lass sounds like she’s willing to spend a pretty penny” Aziraphale hummed. Crowley, making a great show of doing so, finally picked up the letter and read over the lines. However, the more he read, the less exasperated he seemed. His pupils moved faster across the page, until finally stopping on the final line.

To whom it may concern,

You do not know me, and I do not know you, but I am requesting your aid.

My name is Anathema Device, if you’ve heard of me it may be due to my family’s prophecies and our affiliation with the high royals. Rest assured, I do not collude with those people. I am an educator, a teacher of sorts. I’ve studied all forms of magic, specifically into ancient, lost, or hidden art forms. Due to my knowledge and vast array of skills, I have recently been hired to tutor this wonderful young boy.

I have heard of you, in passing. Of your wits and skills and ability to fight. Of your magic and intelligence. Tales lost to the gust of winds in the forest.

I have foreseen this day coming. But I did not expect it so soon, and as such I am unprepared. I cannot help him. No one can truly help him.

If I’m right, if what I’ve seen in my future is right, then you’re the only one who can. I understand your hesitance. I am willing to offer anything as compensation, for your help, with the promise of my quiet in return. I beg of you, please.

The zodiacs, the stars, are calling to him, and I cannot help him answer.

Aziraphale looked at him expectantly, waiting for some kind of admission of wrong. However, Crowley’s face looked pale and wordless he stood with the paper, walked over to a trash can, and slipped it in.

“Wh- oh come on now Crowley! Just because you don’t want to admit I proved you wrong that doesn’t mean you can just ignore the young woman!” Aziraphale huffed as he walked over to the can and went to retrieve it. However, Crowley held out a hand to stop him.

“It’s…it’s not that,” he mumbled, “that woman. I just, I don’t want any affiliation with her,” Crowley mumbled, “You were right, whatever, just forget it ever happened.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Aziraphale frowned, though his voice was laced with concern. Crowley was looking off and it didn’t seem like he was planning on meeting any gazes any time soon. When he didn’t answer, Aziraphale pursued his lip before suddenly turning away, walking over to his bag and rummaging before retrieving a scroll. He brought it back over to the rogue.

“Remember when you told me about the stars?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley didn’t move, but usually the lack of a “no” meant “yes” when he was in moods like this. Aziraphale suddenly pulled open the scroll, showing a star map.

“Ever since then, I kept my eye out for any literature about stars I thought you’d like. And I found out all about these beings called ‘Zodiacs!’ They’re affiliated with the stars, I think you’d really enjoy them!” Aziraphale tucked part of the map between his fingers to keep it open while the others gestured to a picture of scales overlayed over one of the constellations, “The woman mentioned them in her letter. I think you’d have a really great time on this mission if you gave it a chance, eh?”

Crowley wordlessly looked over at the star map, his eyes scanning over the constellations and symbols that decorated the page. Aziraphale frowned as he watched Crowley study the paper with sadness in his eyes.

Carefully, Crowley pulled the map from Aziraphale’s grasp and held it up as he leaned against the wall. He rolled the scroll and tucked one of the edges underneath the crook of his arm in order to look more intently at a different section of signs. The two stood in complete silence, the air thick with tension and confusion. Aziraphale was afraid to speak, afraid to scare Crowley off.

“Angel, I…” Crowley sighed as he rolled up the scroll and held it tightly in his hands, the paper squishing under his grip. He still wasn’t making eye contact. “…who do you think she wrote the letter to?”

“Why us, of course,” Aziraphale said firmly. “She so neatly addressed it to our business. Her penmanship is quite lovely.”

“Quite…” Crowley sighed. “Look, Angel, it’s-ngk-fuck…”

He turned, finally making eye contact. “It’s to me. The letter was for me.”

Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he replayed the words of the letter in his head.

“What do you mean? The young woman pointedly notes both of our skills in her request.”

“And yet she never says either of our names,” Crowley reminded him. He turned his head to the side, momentarily breaking eye contact. “Frankly I don’t blame her, probably couldn’t pinpoint mine…” he muttered. The tiefling took a moment to take a deep breath and compose himself, before placing the scroll down on the table besides them and making firm eye contact with Aziraphale once more.

“You read about the Zodiacs, correct?” He interrogated.

“Wh-yes, but-“

“What about the magic they pass down? The blessing of stardust to mortals?”

Aziraphale owlishly blinked, staring up at Crowley in confusion. He had a million questions swimming around in his head — yes, while he would consider himself highly educated, Aziraphale is still blind to other forms of magic and the religions that surrounded these abilities. He’s been spending his years catching up on outside history and his own magic sector in order to properly assimilate. But one question couldn’t help but blurt itself out.

“Why, in Ecliel’s great realm, do you know about this?” he asked.

Crowley deflated slightly at the question, and for a moment his eyes appeared glazed and elsewhere. Aziraphale recognized that expression well and carefully dragged over one of the nearby stools before Crowley slumped onto it. He sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees and clasping his fingers.

There were no words that felt right, but Crowley forced words regardless. “For my 6th birthday, I asked my family for a star map. When I was 7, I asked for a sextant. And when I turned 8, they got me an astrolabe.” The tiefling smiled somberly as memories drifted in—many nights he would sneak out of his bedroom through the high up window with notebooks, astrological tools and his blanket. They’d wiggle themselves up onto the roof and settle on a perfectly comfy stop to observe, appreciate, and reach out to the stars. That was, until, one day the stars reached back to him.

“I was observing as I did every night. I would gaze and name every constellation and star system, identify which planets were in view, count all of the shooting stars and asteroids that would briefly pass by. Once I finished documenting what the sky looked like that night, I would lay on the roof and reach out towards the sky, my hands open as if I was waiting to catch something…”

Crowley sighed as he rubbed his right thumb against his left palm in a nervous gesture.

“I would concentrate on the constellation above me, Aries I believe it was that night. I would close my eyes and mentally sing out to it, almost like a prayer I guess,” he laughed. “I felt comfort in the gesture. Like my voice was a call and the stars would comfort me into the follow day. I always thought that those were their answers, that sense of protection I would feel. But, then…”

During their call, Crowley suddenly felt a comforting warmth building up in the palms, growing and pushing like a flower bud through the dirt. Breaking the ritual, they opened their eyes in curiosity, and were met with a bright glow sitting in their hands.

Crowley stared at the light in his hands and gasped. And the star seemed to gasp back.

The tiefling was incredibly careful with the star, though it was out of appreciation rather than fear. Curiously one of his fingers brushed over the surface, only for a smattering of starlight to flicker onto his thumb and scatter into the space around them. It almost looked like dust or flaky snow fluttering off, though once the first few particles dettached, others quickly followed. Crowley worried he may have hurt the star, though the nerves were dashed once the specks began to swirl upwards, moving to twist gently around his horns. When they reached the tips, the stardust shifted and curled to form another loop, similar to the rack of a ram.

The strangest thing? That stardust *tickled* almost. Well, not exactly tickling. Crowley could feel the small particles like warm, comforting pinpricks, but the feeling they transferred brought a light that made him want to giggle.

The stardust came back to settle in his hands, not as condensed as it had once been and still a bit drifting around dreamily or freckled on crowley’s skin like he had accidentally spilled the most beautiful paint in the world.

“A star’s blessing,” Crowley sighed. “A connection that forms deep within your soul, branching between the physical and celestial realm. It allows us to draw power from our rising and manifest it into magic.”

As he spoke, Crowley could feel the dormant warmth pulse beneath his skin, the fire now attached to his being, too stubborn to let go. Over the years he was able to subconsciously tune it out — constantly listening to it cry out would’ve driven him mad.

“I was granted the blessing…this kid, I bet he was too…”

Crowley sighed. He was afraid, honestly. He still had unsaid words sitting on his tongue, his body felt rigid in fear of what the cleric might say or how he would react. He felt vulnerable, exposed and stinging like an open wound. He said too much, he said too much.

Aziraphale said nothing at first, his eyes purely studying Crowley’s form. He’d never seen him like this frankly, and in his mind a lot of connections were being made to previous mysteries about his companion. Although the memory was lovely, it didn’t need to be said that something must’ve gone wrong—the fate this meeting with a star had led to only ended in trauma that crowley had tried to buried, all undone by a single woman’s letter.

Gently and silently, Aziraphale approached and reached out, cupping his hands around Crowley’s nervous interlocked fingers. He held his hands with the same care and reverence Crowley had held his star with. He could feel a slight tremor coming from the rogue’s hands, the fear and memories shimmering around him like dust that was brushed off a shelf.

“The kid is cursed…I…I can’t help him. No-nn-I-no, I won’t help him,” Crowley sputtered. “I’m sorry…”

Aziraphale blinked in surprise as he frowned. This was incredibly uncharacteristic for Crowley, especially since Aziraphale had picked up on his sweet spot for children. Although he would swear up and down he “hated the little brats,” Aziraphale caught crowley sneaking extra food or supplies to street kids, and even agreed to going on a mission for free a few months back when a little girl asked them to help find her dad. Although it may have seemed cruel, Aziraphale knew it wasn’t easy for Crowley.

“I don’t think you should help him,” Aziraphale started. Crowley’s gaze snapped up in surprise, obviously expecting the cleric to try and persuade him the other way. But Aziraphale held firm gaze as he squeezed crowley’s hands gently. “You’ve obviously been hurt by this in the past. I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to get involved, dear. You’re very important, Crowley”

A tear slid down the rogue’s cheek, though before it reached his chin, he suddenly stood up and moved his hands under aziraphale’s arms, instead wrapping around him and grasping him in a desperate embrace. His breath shuddered as he buried himself into Aziraphale, only able to mutter a small “thank you” into the clerics shirt.

Aziraphale remained and embraced him for a long time, every so often whispering another affirmation or grounding crowley with a squeeze. However, his eyes couldn’t help but drift to the nearby table with the discarded letter, words desperate and pleading.

Once Crowley sufficiently calmed down, Aziraphale finally pulled away.

“Dear boy, I’m glad you’re doing what’s best for you. I really do think it’s best that you stay here for this” Aziraphale smiled.

“Yeah…wait, what do you mean ‘this’?”

“Well…I believe I want to go on a solo mission to help this boy.”

Aziraphale held his ground as Crowley bristled and looked at him oddly.

“I might not understand zodiac magic, nor am I able to cast it. But it sounds like it’s a deep spiritual connection. My magic stems from my faith, it was granted to me by my god as a…blessing, I guess would be the right term. This young lady sounds more like an academic, learning element combinations in order to cast magic. While not the same, I believe I can still help.”

Aziraphale was beaming at the concept. Any opportunity to help the cleric would take, that Crowley understood. He has watched him try to cast magic more “traditionally”, like how one would learn at an academy to become a sorcerer, but he greatly fumbled and was barely able to make a spark. His magic seemed to flow with his confidence, emotions, and faith. It was difficult in the beginning to translate those feelings and power into tangible and legit spells.

“It doesn’t sound like a typical quest, Angel,” Crowley frowned. “It feels like more of a, errr…babysitting job. Long term. A sit in.”

“Oh? Think I’ll have to become his nanny, do you?” Aziraphale smiled. Crowley rolled his eyes.

“I just mean, this seems like an extended commitment. And I don’t think it’s safe for either of us to-“ to be around zodiacs, including a kid that could explode and become an ultra powerful maniac, “-stay in one place for too long, you know.”

“You have a point,” Aziraphale mumbled before snapping his fingers, “then I’ll host a sort of boot camp! Short term but packed to the brim with lessons!”

Crowley bit his lip. “Err…uh…I have a hunch that the kid is, like, around 10 years old.”

“And how does that change anything?” Aziraphale asked as he tilted his head.

“Weren’t you a bit restless when you were ten? The ‘I’d rather do anything else’ phase?”

“…no? I quite liked my lessons, I wanted to be risen,” he said bluntly.

Crowley blinked as he thought for a moment. The image of a younger Aziraphale, sans halos, chubbier cheeks, and more wild hair, dressed up in a sort of ornate uniform, sitting in a back room frantically trying to memorize passages of scripture before a sermon.

“Right,” Crowley sighed. “Well, normal ten year olds won’t follow a boot camp learning program that easily. They’re like…uh…what’s that thing that’s slippery and hard to catch…”

Crowley trailed off in thought for a moment before shaking his head. “Right! Regardless, it’s unsafe for one of us to leave for a long time. So I’ll just, er…we’ll go together. I pick up some jobs for money, you deal with the kid.”

Aziraphale softly smiled. Of course he couldn’t help but want to help the kid anyway. “Oh Crowley, are you sure?”

Crowley sniffed and curtly nodded. “Yes, correctamundo, 100%—oh I’m not saying that again,” he babbled. “Now shoo! Go write back to that witch woman, I’ll cook some dinner.”

Aziraphale bright smiled as Crowley quickly waved him off before slipping off into the kitchen. As the cleric turned and grabbed the letter to leave to his study, he heard Crowley blurt out in exasperation “Fish!”, making him chuckle. He hoped that dinner would take a while, he’s got a letter to write and some supplies to organize and pack. He has a feeling this was going to be a big one.

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Look Outside The Window

Jay Merrick/Skully x M!Reader

Last Edited: July 4, 2021 12:03 AM

TW: stalking, obsessive behavior

Requested: no

AO3 LINK -> HERE

Notes: these used 2 be posted but i deleted them after some comments made me hate them. however, i found them again recently n may end up adding more. i also do not hate them anymore. tws will be in the notes before every chapter and some will be put in the additional tags. the character is also in the notes/summary before each chapter. (The 1st 4 r old n unedited)

You had needed an out. You needed to get away from home. Your parents did nothing but trap you there. You couldn’t make your own decisions or even buy anything with your own money without them talking you down or insulting you over it. They wanted you to live with them and go by their rules. They didn’t care about what you wanted in life and only saw you as their “little boy”. You weren’t a child anymore; you were a young adult. They were constantly trying to infantilize you and you hated it. You were a young adult and you needed to branch out, make mistakes, and move on. So that’s what you did. You left home after finding a house-sitting job.

The job would last a few months, which was odd to you. Why house sit for months on end? The owners didn’t tell you anything. You didn’t even call. You emailed them and they emailed you. Every interaction with the couple was through emails. Or at least, you think the person messaging you is in a relationship. It sounded that way. One part of the email said, “We’ll be leaving the house to you. My partner and I are going on vacation for a few months. You can watch and live in the house while there. Your pay will be sent to you in a check via mail. The groceries will be delivered to you once a week. May you watch it carefully.” The last part gave you a sense of foreboding, almost like you should be watching out for something out in the house deep in the woods.

When you had arrived at the house, you were pleasantly surprised to find it very tidy. Everything was spotless in the two-story home. It held four bedrooms and three bathrooms. There was a dining room, living room, family room, kitchen, foyer, dressing area, and a nook. Overall, a large house. Well, a large house for a simple couple. Perhaps the couple has quite a bit of money? Especially if they’re going on vacation for a few months and are paying you a large sum to simply watch the lonely house in the woods.

The first few days were fine. Nothing really happened other than the feeling of being watched. What creeped you out the most though was that you never heard any birds. It was always silent outside. Silent and still. There was barely any wind thanks to the dense forestry. Despite that, the feeling of being watched continued. Sometimes, though, you would hear gentle buzzing in your ears. It reminded you of bees but it sounded more like an old tape. Whenever you heard it, it seemed like static covered your eyesight. You could still see, but the static was like a film over your sight. Whenever you would look in the mirror, your eyes seemed to have a slight glaze over them. Of course, there wasn’t much you could do and no amount of searching the internet seemed to help.

By the second week, you were hearing birds. There was something… off about them. They didn’t sound lively. They sounded hollow. Almost like something was mimicking them. You would hear them next to whichever window you were closest to as well. It was like something was by the window, mimicking the birds only when you’re there. It didn’t happen all throughout the day either. It only happened when you weren’t doing something. If you were to turn off the television, ready to get started on a meal, the chirping and singing would start up. Because of how hollow and synthetic it sounded, shivers would run all over your body. It didn’t help that the static over your vision seemed to get slightly worse whenever it would happen; the buzzing in your ears also seemed to get louder. At night, however, there was no chirping or singing. The static seemed to have tripled at that point though and the buzzing was so loud that you could barely hear your heartbeat and breathing.

By the first month, you were looking outside constantly. The bird noises seemed to happen constantly by now and notes started to appear around your home. When you would try to sleep, the hollow tune of the birds would be there despite the fact that no birds were out. The buzzing was so loud that it was all you would hear. The static was so bad that it completely covered your sight; it was like looking at a static screen. The notes terrified you. There were never any footprints in the snow outside and you were the only one in the home. You believed, at first, that you were writing them. Maybe you had been half asleep and wrote them. But that changed when the notes didn’t match your handwriting and started to be… weird.

You look handsome today. One said. Do you like the birds? They don’t seem very lively though. Another read. I wish you would see me. You always know I’m there thanks to the static and buzzing. Maybe we’ll meet soon. More and more would come in. They were always placed where you’d see them. A window. The fridge. Even on the television. They were taped there, all signed with an S. One was even on your bedroom door. How did someone get in and out without leaving any footprints or any evidence behind? You didn’t know but it started to make you close every curtain and try to raise the volume of everything, trying so hard to drown out the unlively birds.

Today was just like the last few. The static over your vision makes it hard to see right with how thick it is. The buzzing in your ears is loud, but not loud enough to drown out the synthetic birds. You make breakfast for yourself, dressed in some simple sleepwear. The breakfast you make doesn’t take too long, just some scrambled eggs and toast with jam. You eat in silence; well, not entirely in silence thanks to the buzzing and birds. When you finish your breakfast, you wash the plate and other utensils you had used to make your meal. Once done, you decided to do some light stretching in the living room. There wasn’t much you could do in the home. Outside was too cold for you to explore the wilderness without sustaining frostbite.

All of the curtains were closed except for one. It was the closest to the television. You were going to close it before spotting the note taped on the box. You stare at the note before tearing it off the screen. It reads: Look Outside The Window . You pause, staring at the note. The buzzing slowly starts to get louder just as the static over your sight starts to worsen. The birds, however, stop chirping. There’s only the buzzing. Slowly, you look towards the window. Nothing. Nothing but still snow.

A small smile worms its way only your face, mocking. A small, forced chuckle leaves your lips before you turn around, ready to head back into the kitchen to make some tea to calm your beating heart. You freeze though when you see the figure standing in the doorway. The beige-orange coat covers most of their figure while the black-ish blue hood covers their face. They have on a pair of gloves, the same colour as their hood. Their pants are a simple pair of jeans while their shoes seem to be black combat boots. Seeing a figure in your home is terrifying, yes. It wouldn’t have been as scary if the figure didn’t have a mask on. The mask was an off-white-ish colour with black eyeholes, high black eyebrows, and a box shape for the mouth, somewhat resembling teeth.

You both stand there, no one moving. The buzzing is so loud now that you can barely hear your own heart and breathing. The static is so bad that you can barely see the figure clearly. “IT’s NiCe To FiNaLlY mEeT yOu, [Redacted],” They, or he, says. His voice sounded weird. It was like a mix of different pitches and he couldn’t decide which one was best and went with all of them. You didn’t think though, only acted. You quickly dropped the note and fled the living room. You could hear him following you as you ran for the back door. You slam into it, trying to unlock it. “YoU dOn’T wAnT tO gO oUtSiDe! It’S tOo CoLd FoR yOu. EsPeCiAlLy WiTh HoW yOu’Re DrEsSeD!” You don’t listen though, not even as he slowly approaches you. With a final turn of the knob, the door is flung open and you run out into the snow.

It’s cold and stings your feet. You run and run and run. You don’t once look back, too scared that he may be right there. You don’t hear him following you, but that’s due to the buzzing. It’s so loud now that it’s all you can hear. You’re basically running blind; the static is so thick that seeing your surroundings is almost impossible. You stumble around mostly, hands in front of you so you don’t run face-first into any trees.

You’re unsure of how long you have been running. All you know for sure is that you can’t see anything anymore, the buzzing is starting to give you a headache, you feel like you’re sweating buckets beside the fact that your legs, arms, fingers, and toes are going numb. It isn’t long before you collapse. You’re breathing heavily, panting in the snow. You can feel yourself shaking despite feeling so hot, so overheated. Your hair sticks to your forehead as you continue to sweat. You try to move, to drag yourself somewhere but your body refuses. You lay there, your eyes open despite them wanting to close. The static is still strong, just like the buzzing. They scream danger but your body refuses to listen.

As more time passes, you feel yourself slowly going numb, your eyes fluttering every now and then, trying to close. The static slowly starts to fade away until it’s back to the normal, barely there, state. The buzzing fades into a gentle hum, it barely being able to be heard. You can hear how heavy your breaths are and see the pure white of the snow. One of your hands is in front of you, pale and slowly turning blue. Frostbite will, or already has, set in. Were you going to die out here? Here, all alone. Nothing to your name. No one looking for you besides your parents. Who would find your body? Or would the masked man hide your body away, letting it decay somewhere?

You can hear the crunch of the snow and gentle humming coming your way. It seems the man has come for you. His pace is slow, not at all rushed. Soon enough, he walks into your field of vision. He crouches down, sitting on the balls of his feet. His gloved hand is brought up before it comes through your hair. “LoOk At YoU. A sHiVeRiNg, HaNdSoMe MeSs. As MuCh As I lIkE hOw YoU lOoK rIgHt NoW, bEiNg VuLnErAbLe AnD aLl, YoU’rE tUrNiNg BlUe,” As soon as those words leave his mouth, he scoops you up in his arms, holding you close to him tightly. “DoN’t WoRrY. I’lL tAkE gOoD cArE oF yOu. I lOvE yOu ToO mUcH nOt To. YoU’lL bE sAfElY tUcKeD aWaY iN tHaT hOuSe, WiTh Me By YoUr SiDe To KeEp YoU cOmPaNy. NoW dOeSn’T tHaT sOuNd NiCe?”

[sunspray-peak]

Ch. 59: Easy

SATURDAY - WINTER 13

As much as Achilles loathed the snow, it had proven to have somehow gifted him a rather peaceful and productive series of days. Though perhaps it was less the snow, and more… Alex. Nothing else—no one else, really—he’d encountered in Stardew had quite managed to calm the rollercoaster of this past year as well as Alex had. 

Was he thinking about him? Likely not—the kiss he’d left behind had been, objectively, clearly more jest than anything else. Regardless, Achilles hadn’t allowed idle speculation to distract him from the duties at hand. Holed up in the temperate climate of his well-heated home, he had neglected to shovel his 2 acres of land, opting instead to sit at his desk with a cat in his lap and a pen in his hand. It wasn’t a novel he was writing, however—no, his brain still refused to respond in that regard—but letters. Letters to family, letters to old friends, letters to himself. 

But the blinding, glowing sun cutting through his windows early Saturday morning had managed to melt with its golden cheer even his hatred for the cold. And so, shortly after 6am, Achilles threw on a robe and made himself a cup of tea before tottering his stiff joints to the front door. A breath of fresh air couldn’t hurt. Perhaps he’d do some bird watching on the porch or… something. 

But it seemed that someone else had had similar ideas. 

“What the fuck—god dammit—” This was really getting out of hand—really ought to get a lid for your mugs at this rate, or a thermos… Achilles wiped his sodden sleeve across his porch swing’s wooden plank of an armrest. It did not help, and now his hand was scraped as well as scalded. “Really, Alex we ought to put a bell on you, with this little habit of yours, just loitering around on my porch—you can knock, you know.” 

“Oh—geez, I’m sorry, not my fault you’re so jumpy, I’m sorry—I wasn’t sure if you’d be awake—” 

“I’m always awake. It’s a real problem.” Achilles clicked his tongue and nodded for Alex to take a seat on the swing before noticing the six inches of snow piled on the cushion. “Come inside. I suppose I’ll have to make myself another cup now, would you like one?” 

“Oh. No, I can’t stay long. First day on the new job, wanna get there early… I just wanted to… stop by. Say hi.”

“Oh yes! Mr. Manager.” Achilles glanced to the east where the bus stop lay beyond the borders of Strawberry Farms. Even shielding his eyes, he still had to squint to make out Alex’s halting footsteps breaking up the otherwise untouched snow. “Damn. You trudged through all that just to say hi?” 

“Well, in my defense, I expected you to’ve shoveled the path.” 

“Yikes. Me? Big mistake—”

“—yeah, I see that now—”

“—I assumed it’d be, I don’t know, a government responsibility. How long does it take snow to melt?” 

“Why would the government be shoveling the snow on your farm, Ash?” 

“I don’t know, listen, I hail from desert country—”

“Ohhhh, I see, did the government shovel sand out of your driveway in Monstera? Because you might just be getting that mixed up with being rich.” 

“Yeah, yeah, all right…” Achilles chucked a halfheartedly constructed snowball that Alex easily dodged. “Now what do you want? Everything okay? What brings you lurking like a gremlin on my porch this early in the morning?”

“No, everything’s fine, I was just… hoping to catch you.” 

“Well. You caught me.” Achilles glanced down at his still-wet sleeve. It was too cold for this, and he likely needed a bandage. 

Alex bit his lip before reaching into his coat—Yoba, really, it was quite unfair how one could make such a simple, innocent little hand motion look so seductive. He withdrew a pale green envelope and offered it forward. “I, um. I wrote you a letter—” 

“Did you steal that from Lewis? I swear he has the same stationary—” 

“—I just figured I’d hand deliver it since, you know, you never open your dang mail, you punk.” 

“A thing like that! You know, that’s probably the most considerate thing a person has ever done for me this whole year.” With a squirrelly little smile, Achilles slipped his pointer finger smoothly under the envelop flap before catching sight of Alex staring rather alarmingly wide-eyed, as if petrified, at the letter between his hands. “Or… shall I open it later?” 

“Oh—um—no, that’s all right, you can go ahead. Actually, no—yes. Later. Actually, you know what, I’ll just read it to you.” 

Bemused but chuckling lightly, Achilles offered the envelope back. But Alex only shook his head. 

“Man, I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m sorry. I’ll just tell you what it says.” 

“So… no one’s opening the letter…?” 

Alex shook his head again, ran a hand through his hair—a few strands broke loose from whatever gel or product he must’ve used to style it this morning. Being manager demanded a fresh new look, it seemed, but Achilles bit back his smile—didn’t seem appropriate, given that Alex seemed close to hyperventilating on his front porch.

Instead, Achilles pocketed the letter, which seemed to be the main source of Alex’s unusually pale visage, and asked, “Are you… okay…? You sure you don’t… want some… tea?”

And just like that, it was as if a light switch had been flicked. Alex smiled and, cocking his head slightly, chirped, “Would you like to get dinner tonight? 

“What?” Achilles took half a second to register the dissonance regarding the degree of joy that had accompanied this rather banal question. He’d been expecting something much more dramatic—Lewis’ last will and testament, perhaps… “Dinner? …Sure. Is any place going to be open, though? With all the snow? Still seems quite deep.”  

“Yeah, the government does actually shovel public property, if you must know—”

“All right—”

“I checked with Gus on the way here, the Stardrop’s open. If that works. For you.” 

“What time?” 

Alex blinked several times before asking, “6:30?” 

“Sure.” 

“Yeah?” 

“…yeah…” 

Alex beamed. “Wow! Really? Great! Really great! Um. I’ll see you then!” 

Achilles nodded slowly, his wet sleeve forgotten as his brain worked to stymie the confusion currently sweeping his brain as Alex bounded off the porch and nearly half-skipped off the farm. It was quite a few minutes before he retreated back indoors, where he promptly curled himself onto his couch beneath the portrait of two root vegetables and continued to think. 

Alex, on the other hand, was halfway through his very first day as Orange Grove Fitness’ new manager before realizing that both the conversation he had spent all night constructing and the letter he had spent all morning writing had been completely devoid of quite a number of choice key words. And right at the end of his lunch break! Head buried atop his new desk, a ham and cheese sandwich scrunched in his fist as his (Achilles’) watch struck 2…

“Oh, you stupid idiot, you’ve really outdone yourself this time. Date. How in the heckity heck did you miss the word—”

*****

This was a date. 

Surely, Alex had been asking him out on a date. 

Now he hadn’t said the word date. But the man wouldn’t have chewed straight through his lip or hiked two miles through half-shoveled snow to hand deliver a hand written note just to ask Achilles to a simple dinner. Right? They’d had dinner a million times, there was definitely something different to this one. Right? 

Stay calm, bitch! 

The clues were clear—Achilles had written them down in his notebook to better organize his thoughts, and even if he set aside his own feelings, the whole situation was still quite objectively suspect. An ordinary request such as this would not have required such extra-ordinary efforts if the aforementioned ordinary request was, in actuality, an ordinary request. RIGHT?  

But it just seemed so… sudden. Surely a near-platonic peck on the nose couldn’t have triggered something to this extent? He had hoped the letter would be more explicit, but it unfortunately hadn’t revealed much either. 

Hi Achilles! Hope you enjoyed your first ever snow day. Or snow week, really. How many crosswords did you get done? I bet you made the most of it, but if you didn’t, that’s cool, too. 

I know this mihgt seem really sudden, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot these past couple of days, and I would love if you met me in the saloon tonight for dinner. 6:30pm if that works.

Hope to see you then! :-)

Best,

Alex. 

He’d have given the man a call to clarify if it hadn’t been his first day on the new job.

Oh, Alex, Alex, Alex… 

Achilles was calm. He was always calm, right? He’d just… act normal. Follow Alex’s lead. Yes. This was going to be fine. 

But he made sure to clean his room. Just in case. 

*****

Alex—well the whole town, really—always claimed he overdressed, so even if this wasn’t a date, the embroidered bomber jacket Achilles had adorned wouldn’t have raised any alarm bells. 

It would be best not to get his hopes up, though. Just in case. But as Achilles trudged through the half-shoveled snow to the saloon, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. 

Emily welcomed him the moment he stepped foot in the saloon, her eyes glittering as she took his arm. Haley, he saw, was coincidentally paying the Stardrop a rare visit today, having claimed a booth to herself despite the crowds and its accompanying damp, musty scent. She pursed her lips when he made eye contact, gave a wily little wiggle of her shoulders—really, quite remarkable how up in his business that button nose of hers could reach. He responded with a venomous grin and a raised middle finger. Incredibly impolite, of course, but he was only returning what she’d given him many a season ago. 

Achilles followed Emily down the back hall to where the private rooms lay (So… definitely a date, right?), where they stopped at the very last door. 

“Right along in here… oh, and would you look at that, I forgot to bring the menus. You go on in, I’ll be right back.”

“Yeah, all right, Emily…”  

As she dashed away, arms held aloft like a ballerina, he took a deep breath, then pushed the door open. 

Immediately, Alex, who had been seated at a small table in quite a small private room, jumped to his feet, tripping over the wooden chair as he half-stumbled for the door. “Hey!” 

Oh fuck. 

Outside of the Flower Festival back in the Spring, Achilles had rarely seen Alex out of activewear and athleisure. The sight of those arms now, tight in the sleeves of a forest green cardigan, would’ve alone been enough to send even Leah’s heart racing, surely. But the lightly patterned, sage button down—well. A man after his own heart.

Alex’s hair was combed back, tidier than he’d ever seen it (though a part of Achilles did miss the casual, semi-messy curls of it all), and as he shut the door behind him, he noticed something more akin to vanilla and cinnamon had replaced Alex’s usual citrus scent. 

But Achilles quickly found his breath and shook himself out of his reverie, taking a step forward just as Alex finished picking up the chair he’d sent keeling to the floor. 

“Hi—”

“This-was-supposed-to-be-a-date-but-if-you-don’t-want-it-to-be-one-I-completely-understand-I-didn’t-mean-to-ambush-you-I’m-just-really-stupid-just-tell-me-whatever-it-is-you-want.” 

But Achilles could only blink, lost in Alex’s rather anxious, wild-eyed stare, eyes greener than ever in the rosy overhead lighting. 

Did you hear that right? It is a date—you were right, good for you. Wait. He definitely said date, right? He said it was a date. Confirm? Confirm— “Pardon?” 

“Also these are for you. I mean, if you want them.”

Alex half-shoved a cellophaned bouquet into Achilles’ hands. Half a dozen white roses and goldenrod wrapped in a emerald green ribbon. Not Pierre’s work, or even Jojamart’s. No, someone must’ve paid a visit to a Zuzu City florist. 

Date?

Yes! Date! 

Man, you gotta say something, bitch. 

“Oh. Thank you. These are… beautiful. Thanks. Yes. A date. I… assumed.” 

Assumed? Assumed? My god, what an arrogant prick you are. Get it together. What’s the matter with you?

He accepted the flowers from Alex, and in a sudden flash of inspiration, let his fingers linger on Alex’s for perhaps one or two seconds longer than necessary as the bouquet was passed between them. The effect was instantaneous—at this apparent affirmation of Achilles’, Alex’s visibly brightened, bounding back to the dinner table and pulling out Achilles’ chair for him. 

“Wow,” he exclaimed, scooting the chair forward as Alex hurried to the other end of the table. “I didn’t think people did that anymore. You do this for all the girls or just me?” 

“Don’t feel too special, I do that for everyone.”

“Damn. At least tell me I’m prettier than all the other girls you’ve dated.” 

“You know I don’t like lying, Ash, don’t make me do it.” Alex grinned, handing him a menu that Emily evidently had not forgotten to leave behind. 

“Zero for two. Well, it was worth a try.” God, shut up. He must’ve been more nervous than he realized. Babbling like this. Stupid jokes. Chill out, man. Why are you nervous? You’re never nervous! No reason to be nervous. He asked you out… you have all the power here. Yoba, shut the fuck up! Stop thinking like that! What’s wrong with you? Asshole! 

Achilles’ poker face was near to breaking as his self-disgust began to overwhelm his nerves, but he was luckily rescued by Emily, who had returned with a knock at the door. “No violin today, Al?” She shimmied in with her question, ignoring Alex’s groan, and raised her notepad, ready to take their orders. 

“I haven’t had Gus play the violin for me in 10 years, Emily, when is that joke ever going to die—” 

“Ask him about the violin,” she said, bumping Achilles’ shoulder with her hip. “And the Handbook.” 

“Emily—”

“Now just a warning for ya, it’s a bit busy tonight. Seems like lots of folks eager to get out after the storm, but Gus’ll get your order out shortly. Now what can I get for y’all?” 

A steak for Alex, linguine with mushroom cream for Achilles—with her usual spritely bow, Emily scampered from the room, leaving Alex still red from whatever merciless ribbing she had dealt him. 

“So,” Achilles began, lifting his glass of water. Perhaps a cold drink would wash away his lingering anxieties, though Emily’s return had broken most of the tension for him. “The violin…” 

With the defeated air of getting something over with, Alex took a similar swig from his water before launching into a hurried, one-breath explanation. “My grandpa gave me a dating handbook when I turned 13, and yes, I will admit I followed it pretty religiously up through college, so Haley really got to see the worst of it all, and she and Emily have never gotten over it, but hey, in my defense there’s some stuff in there that’s really not half bad, I swear.”  

“Like giving your date flowers? And pulling out their chair?”

Alex grimaced.

“Well shit, Al, I’m feeling less and less special by the second.” 

Here, Alex seemed to visibly deflate, sinking deeper into the back of his chair until Achilles, rather alarmed by the somewhat uncharacteristic lack of confidence—maybe he’s nervous, too, bitch—rapped his fingers sharply against the table. “I’m just joking, Al. Sorry, I’m being an ass, it’s very… charming.”

That seemed to be enough to pull Alex back to his usual self, and Achilles quickly plowed ahead, making sure to keep his tone light. “But the violin Emily mentioned?” 

“Ah. Yes.” Alex rubbed his nose, preparing his next words carefully as if gearing up for the worst. “Well, if you must know… according to the handbook, I’m supposed to start first dates with a little sort of violin serenade from Gus.” 

“You’re lying to me.” 

“I really wish I was.”

“And you actually… did that.” 

“Oh, just a few times. I don’t know man, my only source of dating advice when I moved here was my really old and old fashioned grandpa.”

“Fair enough. I’ll allow it.”

Alex chuckled, and once again took a quick sip from his drink just as Achilles raised his own. A lull in the conversation—but not an uncomfortable one, Achilles thought, as he took the opportunity to casually savor the view from over the rim of his glass. He hadn’t ever really allowed himself to do it before. It had always felt rather intrusive, salacious even, to stare for longer than a beat or so—but surely now, of all times, it was… okay. Right?

Clearly Alex had put in quite a bit of effort tonight, really, it felt wrong not to appreciate it all… anyway, it was hard to ignore those eyes sparkling from across the table, pink lips slightly parted as Alex readied himself to take probably his twentieth sip of water. Achilles could think of just a few other things he’d rather see those lips do, but he dug his thumb into his palm and refocused himself back to the present. You perv, he thought, his own lips twisting to the side as he attempted to hold back a wry grin. Get your mind out of the gutter.

It was Alex who broke the silence, with a tentative observation of his own. “You, um… you look really nice.” His fingers were locked tightly together as they rested atop the table, and through the floorboards, Achilles could feel the faint vibration of what must have been Alex bouncing his foot. “You don’t usually wear black.” 

“I do in the Winter, you’ll see. It tricks me into thinking I’m less cold than I am.” 

“Ha.” 

“You look good, too.” Achilles threw a nod in Alex’s general direction. “Probably should’ve opened with that, I was thinking it when I came in, but I suppose the words didn’t get a chance to make it out of my mouth.” 

“Oh!” A blush crept into the man’s cheeks as he glanced towards the floor. “Thank you. I- I wasn’t sure, personally, I told Haley I thought the sweater was too small, you know, but she, uh, she told me to shut up—” 

“Always, such a lovely, lovely girl.” Achilles’ eyes followed the well-defined slope of Alex’s bicep. “But she’s right. Don’t worry. It’s perfect.” 

“Well, I can’t really raise my arms…”

“Listen, I don’t know if you know this, but I actually come from a long line of really famous fashion designers, and by long line, I mean just my mother—”

“Man, you don’t know a dang thing about fashion—” 

“Fuck, 0/3—I thought this was supposed to be a date, why are you being so mean to me?”

“I’m not—well because—because you’re so calm, why are you always so calm, it’s pissing me off.” With a barking laugh, Alex chucked his napkin across the table as Achilles, rather bewildered by Alex’s uncharacteristically off-base observation, flung his hands instinctively in front of his face. 

“It’s incredibly kind of you to ignore the five mental breakdowns you’ve witnessed me have, is doing that part of your grandpa’s handbook, too?” But as Achilles slid the cloth back across the table, he became more serious, and he continued in a somewhat softer tone. “There’s no reason to be nervous, Al, it’s just me. Just think of all the times I’ve humiliated myself in front of you, eh?”

That elicited a small smile, at the very least. But while Achilles’ anxiety had since settled for the most part, it seemed Alex would need more than a weak joke. 

“Speaking of nerves though, how was the first day on the new job, Mr. Manager?” 

Achilles gave himself a private pat on the back as Alex jumped at the redirection, the apprehension in his eyes rapidly melting as he eagerly shared his new schedule. 

What a pro you are! Still got it… 

The conversation carried them all through Emily’s return with their appetizers and dishes—and it was only after she left (with a rather unnecessary promise of “leaving them undisturbed”), that Alex’s hands, so animated during his recounting, returned to tightly gripping the glass of his water. 

Achilles waited—as Alex would ruefully say—calmly. It was clear he had something to say.

And indeed, Alex cleared his throat with the tiniest cough and, after a quick glance at the door to confirm they were indeed alone, pulled his chair an inch forward. 

“Um. Right. Achilles. So. I thought I’d get a private room so we could… talk. I mean, not that we wouldn’t be able to talk if we didn’t have a private room, but it’s loud out there, and it’s what my grandpa’s handbook always said I should do anyway—I don’t know why I just admitted that, I’m sorry. Um, anyway, all that to say—you know, actually, I wrote myself some notes, sorry, give me a second…” 

He fumbled with something in the pocket of his chinos as Achilles smothered another smile. 

“This really makes me look like a nerd doesn’t it, but I just wanted to make sure I was… clear. About things. And didn’t forget anything, you know, especially after how stupid I was this morning. So if you could, um, maybe listen for a bit?” 

Achilles gave a smooth, little nod that managed not to betray the twitch that had returned to his limbs. “For sure. The floor’s all yours.” 

Alex grimaced and, taking a deep breath, unfolded a rather wrinkled piece of notebook paper and began to read aloud in a rather toneless, slow and slightly stuttered recitation. 

“When we first met, I was instantly drawn to you. And it wasn’t just because I was your number one fan.” He glanced up. “Ha.” Eyes dropped abruptly back down to the page as he continued. 

“I think a part of me knew we were destined to be great friends. And I was really happy when we actually did become friends. I had never had a friend like you. You were so smart and cool and you made me feel like I could actually do things with my life. I really liked spending time with you.

“And then during the blizzard, I…” The paper between Alex’s hands began to crinkle as his grip tightened ever so slightly, but he continued to stare, laser focused, on the scribbled words. “Well I started thinking that maybe I liked you as… more than a friend. It was confusing. I kept telling myself, ‘You can’t have these feelings for another guy.’ I mean, I’d never had feeling like this for anyone.

“But I thought about it a lot. Went back and forth a lot trying to decide, I was going crazy, really. And, well. I think I really like you. Like that. And that’s why I wanted to ask you out on a date to—what? Oh. I think I spelled ‘tonight’ wrong. Agh, stupid. Okay, anyway. And that’s why I wanted to ask you out on a date tonight.” 

With a bit of a sniff, Alex folded the paper back into quarters and gave Achilles a rather awkward, teeth-baring attempt at a smile. It was the most unflattering he had ever looked, in Achilles’ opinion, and somehow that made it all the better. Alex patted his folded notes and ended with a little nod. “Well. That’s it.” 

During the blizzard… 

So this had been a much more recent realization than Achilles had originally believed. 

Thank Yoba you didn’t make a move earlier. 

Had it really just been the kiss on the Mullner’s front porch? It had barely been a kiss—couldn’t have been less romantic if he’d tried. Was that really all it had taken to ignite this? He’d taken barely three days to think this through. Though, then again, he supposed Alex had always been the more impulsive one between them… Not everyone spends a whole week anguishing over pros and cons lists, you dumb bitch. 

“What was the turning point?” Achilles asked as Alex shoved the scrap of paper back into his pocket. “I’m just curious. These past few days, what made you ultimately decide that you… wanted this?” 

“Oh. During the storm.” Alex shoved the scrap of paper back into his pocket. “I don’t know, I guess I just realized… I don’t know. I just couldn’t stop thinking about how nice it would’ve been to have been snowbound with you.” 

*****

After it became clear to Alex that Achilles was not going to escape out the back door of the saloon after hearing Alex’s prepared remarks, his usual optimistic countenance quickly returned. By the time the two dug into their dinners, they had managed to roll back into their usual groove, chatting and laughing with familiar ease all through dessert until Emily returned with the check. 

“Oh, I’ve got it—”

“Like hell you do—”

“I was the one who asked you out, I should pay—”

“Emily, give me the check or I’m never coming here again—”

“That’s an empty threat if I’ve ever heard one, the only thing you cook yourself is a boiled egg.”

Emily seemed to agree. She hip checked Achilles’s outstretched hand and, with a rather hyena-like cackle, seized Alex’s card before dodging Achilles once again on her way out. 

“You know, the Handbook says it’s proper for the man to always pay,” Alex said, snootily tossing his napkin onto his plate with a raised pinkie. “Now I don’t know what that means for us, exactly, but at least let me have this one, will you?” 

Achilles rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest as he craned his neck in search of nothing. “The napkin’s actually supposed to go on the left when you’re finished with your meal, but never mind that. Where’s Gus? Can someone get Gus? I want a violin serenade pronto.” 

*****

Haley had disappeared by the time the two emerged from the private room, but Achilles, who had eyes for only one person, didn’t notice her absence. Neither did he notice the thick clumps of snow now falling under the glow of the moon, even as Alex held open for him the Stardrop’s front door and said, “Want to take a walk? It’s not too late, I don’t think.” 

“Sure,” Achilles said with a soft smile. The bouquet Alex had gifted him was in one hand, and he tightened his scarf with the other as he stepped out into the cold. “Just a walk, though? Not a run?” 

“Oh, you want to run?” 

Without waiting for a response, Alex tore down the cobblestone path to the south. 

“Fuck—Al, you’re going to slip and break your neck—fucking athletes, I knew I’d sworn them off for a reason—“ 

But the wind covered his calls and his muttered curses, and he had no choice but to hurtle after Alex, laughing even as he skidded past a bewildered Lewis. He hadn’t jogged in a fat minute—not that he likely would’ve caught up to Alex anyway at his peak back in the Fall—but even despite the cold, he gave a merry chase, sprinting across the bridge until his foot found the soft, squishy crunch of slushy sand. There was snow on the beach. Of course there was—we just had a blizzard, you dolt. 

But even so, the strange sight came a surprise. He stopped to take in the cool glow of the snow, a white sheet stretching all the way down to the waves up ahead. It wasn’t deep, but the dampness still managed to seep through his boots. 

Luckily, the rest of him was all warmed up now, thanks to their mile race through Pelican Town. Whether that had actually been Alex’s intention, nervous energy, or the man just couldn’t help but exercise whenever given the opportunity, he wasn’t quite sure. Regardless, with a bit of a wheeze, he sidled up next to where Alex (who was infuriatingly not out of breath) stood waiting by Elliott’s cabin. The light was on, casting both arrivers in its mellow beam, but if the writer had noticed their arrival, he took care not to disturb them. 

“Can I, um… can I hold your hand?” 

“Hmm?” Achilles, who was still slightly bent at the waist catching his breath, glanced rather pitifully up at the green-clad figure above. 

“I just… I just figured it’d make the whole thing feel a little bit more like a date,” Alex, slightly red, said with the barest hint of a shrug. “I don’t know, sorry, is that weird? We don’t have to. It’s just that… it’s just  kinda felt like we’ve been… hanging out.” 

“We are hanging out,” Achilles said, slowly straightening himself up. “I mean, if we break it down, that’s basically what a date is, right?” 

“I guess…” 

Achilles had never exactly loved the concept of holding hands—he sweat too easily and it threw off his stride—but off of Alex’s blink-and-you-missed-it frown, he weaved his arm through Alex’s and led him towards the boardwalk.

Remember what Elliott said… 

Physical touch was never Achilles’ forte. It’s not that he disliked it. Quite the contrary (well, as long as it was in private). It was simply that non-sexual touch didn’t come as naturally to him as it did for others. Often more of an afterthought than something top of mind. But, as Elliott had reminded him, Alex, who greeted his friends with a hug nearly as often as he did a wave, would likely find more validation in something beyond the mere time they were spending together.

“Would you like to sit down?” Alex kicked a clump of snow off the wooden planks and into the water before laying down his coat and chuckling. “Shoot, I really feel like I’m 13. Yoba, I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m sorry, I promise, I’ve been on a lot of dates before—”

“Wow, we’ve got a veritable Casanova out here, everyone—”

“All right, that didn’t come out right, you know what I meant. Although I don’t really know what you meant just now—” 

“You’re a big baller.” 

“Okay, okay, no, I just… look, I just don’t know what to do. With you.” 

“A thing like that. You know how to make a boy feel special. What does the Handbook recommend?” 

Alex began to tick off his fingers as he huddled slightly closer to Achilles on the boardwalk. “Well we’ve had the dinner. I got you flowers. Pulled out your chair. Paid. Asked if we could hold hands. I didn’t want to spoil the surprise, but later I’m going to offer to walk you home if you must know.” 

“That’s adorable—you’re adorable—has anyone on your numerous dates before ever told you that?” 

“Man, I could beat you up.” 

“Why are you always threatening to beat me up?”

“Wasn’t it you who once said that every child deserves to get bullied just a little bit or something?” 

“Are you calling me a child?”  

“Man, I’m just making up for lost time, you don’t seem like someone who got shoved into a locker enough as a kid.” 

Despite the confidence in Alex’s quip, Achilles could feel the tension in the tightened muscles of his arm. The small space Alex had left between them had felt purposeful—tentative. Even now, Achilles watched as his hands fluttered from place to place, as if eager for something to hold, but too afraid to commit. 

Realizing it would be up to him to reassure a flustered Alex out of his hesitation, Achilles closed the gap, tightening the grip around his bicep and tucking his head onto his shoulder. The whole thing was admittedly rather stiff in its deliberateness, but as he better settled into the crook of Alex’s neck—felt Alex, who seemed to recognized the permission Achilles had silently granted, now reach eagerly for his hand—and inhaled the rich, velvety scent of vanilla, he believed there wasn’t a spot in the world he’d rather be. 

Minutes passed, and they listened to the waves crash against the shore. 

“Do you think Elliott’ll stay in the valley? If his book gets published?” 

“Hmm.” Achilles stirred—shit, had he nearly fallen asleep? Can’t fall asleep in your own damn bed, but everything’s always fine and dandy and soothing out here on this damp ass wood. What’s this boardwalk got on you?

Though maybe it wasn’t the boardwalk’s doing. 

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I’d like to think so. I hope he buys himself a better house at any rate… or at least a second chair…” 

“Have you been writing?” 

“Mmm. Not in the way you’re asking. Does it count if it’s in my head?” 

“I don’t see why not. But hey, I don’t make the rules.”  

Achilles sighed and lay slowly down, his back against the boardwalk as he gazed up at the stars. Alex followed, though he chose to lie on his side, one arm beneath his head, the other resting atop Achilles’ chest as his hand continued to grip Achilles’. 

“I’ve got an idea. Well, it’s the same idea I had before, if you remember those pages you snooped a look at when you were cleaning my house… I’ve got it pretty much outlined in my head and everything, it’s just… well you know. I want it to mean something. I want it to matter, I want to finally write something… more than all those kid books I wrote when I was younger, those were so simple, so… stupid. I just don’t know why it’s so fucking hard.” 

The stars twinkled above them, and Alex thumbed his hand. The soft touch, combined with the steady rhythm of the small movement, slowly sweetened the bitter hollow that seemed to have taken up semi-permanent residence in his chest. 

“Sometimes I think we’ve built up this idea that we have to always be, like, fighting for the things that we want. That if something isn’t hard then it must be wrong or, like… I don’t know. Not important.” Alex was tracing letters onto the back of Achilles’ hand now. “But I don’t know, maybe it’s the lazy bum part of me but sometimes—and I promise, I do mean sometimes, not all the time… but sometimes I do think things are easy because they’re the right thing to do.” 

Achilles turned his head. In the dark, Alex’s eyes were black, but under the glow of the moon, he could count the snowflakes on every lash. 

*****

“Well. Here it comes, drum roll please, everyone: can I walk you home?” Alex gave Achilles a hand as they rose from the boardwalk and didn’t let go as they exited the beach. 

“Only if you give me a copy of this Handbook later.” 

“I actually wonder if I do have a copy somewhere still… I don’t know, I’ve pretty much got it memorized at this point.”

“Because you’ve gone on so many dates.”

“Yeah, exactly. I was a real Casa—Cassiopeia? What did you say before?”

“Casanova? Wait, did you say Cassiopeia—fairly niche mythological reference—”

“What can I say, I’m full of surprises. Anyway, whatever, I was hot stuff before you got to know me, you know.” 

“Man, shut the fuck up, you were hot stuff even while I knew you, remember Abigail’s birthday party…” 

The two laughed as they made their way back to Strawberry Farms, taking the slightly longer route through Cindersap Forest, despite the cold and the late hour.

Alex walked him to the porch. The motion sensor lights Achilles had installed nearly a year ago had flickered on the moment they passed the shipping bin, and so they stood awash in the weak fluorescence of a buzzing overhead lamp. 

He was lingering—definitely lingering, biting his lip in typical Alex-fashion, his eyes dancing everywhere except Achilles’ face. And after a beat, Achilles—ever impatient—said, “All right, are you going to ask me if you can kiss me now?” 

Alex jumped—actually jumped. “Oh.” Between rapid blinks, he managed to stutter, “Do you want me to ask you?” 

“I—it was a joke.” 

“Do you want me to?” 

“It was a joke. You know, with the Handbook. I assumed you were just gearing up for Step 5 or whatever step we’ve reached…”  

“Oh. No, I’m not supposed to kiss anyone until the third date. Obviously. Anything sooner is impolite and im… dang, what was the other word… immoral? Is that a word? Yes. Immoral. Obviously.” 

“What?” Achilles stepped back, throwing a hand to his forehead in mock shock. “Fuck, so this whole time, my whole life—I’ve just been a slut? Shit, I always knew it—” 

Alex laughed, but, to Achilles’ surprise, took a small, shy step forward.  “Do you want me to ask you?” 

Taking a page from Alex’s book, Achilles found himself biting his own lip as he met Alex’s inscrutable gaze. “I—Yes.” 

A pause. And then, “Can I kiss you?” 

“Yes.” 

In one step, Alex closed the remaining foot between them. His hands gripped the back of Achilles’ neck, and with a boldness he had been so hesitant to demonstrate earlier this evening, Alex cupped his face and kissed him. 

He tasted like vanilla and he tasted like gold and as Achilles let himself drown in the molten glow of his touch, he found he felt… happy. 

But the kiss didn’t last long—barely a second, really, for Alex’s lips had almost instantly parted upon impact in that wide-toothed grin of his, his tongue peeking out per usual—and the two of them quickly dissolved into laughter.  

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Alex whispered, still half-laughing as he leaned his forehead into Achilles’. “That was… really bad. I swear I’m better than that—”

“Yeah, all that practice being hot stuff and all—”

“Hey, it’s not my fault I was born so dang se—” 

“Stay the night.” But through the sleeves of a slightly-damp coat, he felt Alex stiffen, and so Achilles hurried to add, “We don’t have to do anything. I don’t expect anything. We can just talk. I just… I don’t want you to leave just yet.” 

Immediately, Alex slackened as a small but earnest smile returned to his face. 

“Ok.” 

*****

Achilles put on some late night tea as Alex took a seat in the kitchen, Voltaire already snuggled in his lap. 

Over the course of the blizzard, Achilles had finally moved the typewriter from where it had been sitting, like a monument to all his shortcomings, untouched upon the table. Not that he’d gotten around to taking it out of the box—it was now sitting underneath his desk, still packaged—but, hey, small steps.

Sitting in the center of the kitchen table now were a dozen white roses and goldenrod blooms in Achilles’ favorite (well, only remaining) vase.

“I can boil you an egg, too, if you’d like,” Achilles said, lips twitching as he slid over a cup of chamomile tea and a tray of strawberry scones he’d purchased from Pierre’s that afternoon.

“Ya know what, that sounds great, but I’m actually good. But thanks.” 

It was easy—so easy to just sit here, together. He shouldn’t have expected anything less. It had always been easy with Alex. 

They sat across the table from each other. Perhaps if Achilles had remembered Elliott’s advice, had been a little bit more thoughtful of a person, he would’ve moved closer—held Alex’s hand again, maybe bump his knee with his own. But in the moment, he was too drunk on his own happiness to give Alex’s prospective wants the consideration they likely should’ve deserved. 

The scones and tea had long disappeared, but the two were eager to use any excuse to prolong the end of the evening—from walking through the schedule for Elliott’s book reading tomorrow to dissecting the latest season of The Bachelor (which neither of them actually watched, yet both were somehow still in the know), it wasn’t until the clock struck midnight that Achilles, in begrudging acknowledgment that any further delays would throw off his finely tuned sleeping schedule, slapped the table and stood.

“Well. I’ve got some extra toothbrushes and some clothes you can borrow, if that works for you. Ready to call it a night?” 

*****

What is wrong with you. 

It was Alex who was in the shower right now, but it was Achilles’ good mood that seemed to be dripping down the drain. 

God, why can’t you just enjoy things, you bastard. 

Surely he deserved to be happy, even if just a little bit, right? Yes, surely being happy was allowed. Then why was it now feeling like some sort of… betrayal? 

Fuck, who is there even to betray, bitch? Get yourself together. No one wants to date a grump. 

He needed to be better. Alex deserved better. Alex, who was like light and like stars. Alex, who was turning out to be everything and more than what he ever had hoped to imagine. He could be better, if this stupid ass mood of his would just go away. 

Where did you even come from? Get out and mind your own damn business and let me be happy for once.

Lost in thought, he didn’t notice the water shutting off—neither did he hear Alex call his name as he stood sourly against the wall of his bedroom, half-dressed, still trying to duke it out with his own brain. 

“Achilles? What are you thinking about?”

“Hmm?” He snapped his head towards the voice. 

“You’re thinking about something.” Alex had emerged from the bathroom wearing a set of sweatpants and an old t shirt Achilles had found at the back of a drawer. “I can see it on your face, what is it?” 

“Mmm.” Achilles massaged the bridge of his nose and set a glass of water down by the nightstand before opening the top drawer to retrieve something small. “Nothing I haven’t already thought pretty much to death.” 

Alex cocked his head, a knowing look on his face as he padded around the bed to take a seat behind the desk. “Want to think about it to death with me?” 

“I— No.”

“You sure?” 

Achilles uncrossed his arm only to cross them again. “I mean, we’re on a date…” 

“Sure, but we’re still friends, aren’t we?”   

Fuck. 

Always with the patience of a saint. He didn’t deserve him—hell, was there anyone on this planet who deserved him? And strangely, with this thought, as quickly as his mood had come did it fade. Maybe it was true that nobody deserved Alex, but for some unbelievable reason Alex wanted him, and he trusted Alex’s judgement, so hey, who was Achilles to deprive him of that? 

“It’s fine. Really. Like I told you before, it comes and goes…. Here.” Achilles held out his hand, dropping the item he’d retrieved from his nightstand into Alex’s open palm. “This is yours. Held onto it for awhile there, didn’t I. Sorry about that.”

“Oh! Yes, thank you!” Alex rested his arm across his leg to better clasp the thin leather watch around his wrist. “Wow, I totally forgot—I guess you should probably take yours back, too, here—”

But before he could remove the smart watch, Achilles bent to snatch Alex’s wrist, holding his arm up tightly between them. The sharp movement triggered a rather equally sharp intake of breath from the watch-wearer, but Achilles pretended not to notice, biting back his smirk as he glanced at the steps recorded on the watch face—a higher number than he was used to seeing, that was for sure, even with all his jogs.  

“Mmm. Actually. You want to keep it? You’re probably getting more use out of it than I did.” 

“Oh no, that’s all right—”

“I’m not sure if this one’s waterproof, though… have you tried swimming with it?”

“Oh. Maybe? I don’t really remember taking it off. Sorry, was that bad?” 

“Eh.” Achilles, his fingers still splayed taught around Alex’s wrist, unclasped the watch and chucked it behind him where it fell about a foot short of the nightstand.

“Good aim.” 

“I’ll get you a newer one.” 

“Achilles, no, stop, man, you don’t have to do that—”

“Shh, no, no, just let me buy you things, what else am I good for?” 

But he said the words with a lazy smile, and after running his hand through his hair, bent to retrieve the smart watch from the floor. 

When he turned back from the nightstand, he noticed Alex watching him with a curious, wide-eyed innocence quite at odds with the subject of his stare. Mirroring the characteristic tilt of Alex’s own head, Achilles, his lips twitching as he held in a laugh, slowly knelt until he finally caught Alex’s eye. 

The man immediately flushed scarlet, shutting his slightly parted mouth with a snap as he turned quickly away from Achilles’ unclothed chest. “Ah—sorry.” 

“For what? Making me feel good about myself?” Achilles chuckled, straightening back to full height. “Although you’ve watched me swim a million times, you should know there’s nothing nearly as impressive to look at as what you see in the mirror every damn day—”

“Stop that.” Alex aimed a light kick before jumping up from the chair and joining him by the nightstand. “I think you’re perfect, you know.” 

“Aw, Alexander, aren’t you just the swe—”

“Just physically, of course. There’s still some work to do up here.” He tapped Achilles’ forehead. 

“All right, bitch—” 

But he silenced Achilles with a hand to his chest—except that wasn’t quite it, was it?

Fuck. 

He could feel his body heat—or maybe it was his own body that was suddenly beginning to blaze. From anticipation? From impatience? For Alex’s actual hand was hovering just barely a centimeter above his skin. 

Dammit, just touch me, Alex. 

But before he could speak, Alex, his voice wavering slightly, murmured, “Can I?”

Always so damn polite. 

“Yes.” 

He wasn’t exactly sure what he had expected, but it definitely wasn’t for Alex to reach first for his hand, tracing each of Achilles’ fingers, the lines of his palm, slowly, as if savoring each divot and crease. It was, if he was honest, a little strange, but he said nothing, only breathed, ragged and rough, as Alex’s own fingers traveled up to his wrist, up his forearm, to his bicep where they lightly circled the band tattooed on his skin. 

Achilles closed his eyes. Relished the callused touch upon his collarbone that burned even with the lightest brush. Gentle. Everything so gentle. 

One hand slipped to his lower back, and Alex’s touch on his bare skin sent a quiver through his body—he felt Alex pull him closer, felt him rest his forehead against his own. His breath was warm, but smelled faintly of peppermint. 

Alex’s thumb parted his lips with a tenderness Achilles had never before allowed himself. 

“Can I try again?” The whisper tickled his ear and a velvet thrill itched his heart. “I promise it’ll be better this time.” 

Achilles nodded. 

And yet, despite it being his own ask, Alex’s hesitance seemed to have returned. A delicate, trembling sigh seemed to be serving as the entr’acte before this second at, and so it was Achilles this time who closed the gap. 

Perhaps he should’ve been gentle, perhaps he should’ve been polite, but he wanted it and he had wanted it and Alex was here, asking for it— 

Utterly helpless, a moth to Alex’s flame. Yet it was Achilles who pulled him in with the hunger of a dying fire and kissed him as if he were oxygen, like he was fuel. Electricity sparked through every vein as his hands raked through still-damp hair, along his neck, his shoulders, muscles taut and tight and touching him back—it was rash and reckless, and surely it was right—

But something nagging at the back of his mind managed to pierce through his desperate desire, and, not without difficulty, Achilles pulled himself away. To give himself a second to better regain control of himself, to give Alex a second to better decide—

Are you sure you want this, too? 

He slowed his breathing, let his hands drop from Alex’s hips. Prepared for the worst. 

Was I too fast? Too rough? Too much? 

For the first time, he found himself unable to meet Alex’s emerald gaze—that precise shade of green had, at some point, become synonymous for safety, so why was he suddenly so afraid? 

He could feel Alex watching him, though his own eyes he kept glued to the ground. Achilles had never felt so scrutinized. So small. 

Then, a hand on his neck. A finger resting below his ear, a thumb along his jaw. And Achilles was brought back to Spirit’s Eve. The first time Alex had kissed him. Had all been a character for Alex back then, a costume. How far had they come… 

Alex slowly lifted his chin and asked in a voice, soft and tentative, “Is… is that what you like?” 

“I—what? Yes, wh—Alex, what do you like—”

But Alex cut him off—seized him, kissed him, frenetic and greedy and deep and hard, and Achilles was set aglow. He pushed Alex towards the bed. Shoved him—not unkindly—down atop the duvet, straddled him and lifted his face up to better meet his own. His hands tugged at Alex’s shirt—god, just get that off—he wanted to feel him, more of him, all of him, he was burning, and wanting, and he very nearly got his wish—shirt halfway off, one hand clinging to the bare hollow of his back—until he was shoved unceremoniously off Alex’s lap and onto the floor. 

“What the fuck—”

“Shit—sorry—I’m sorry, I—fuck—” 

Achilles—ricocheting between irked and concerned—stumbled to his feet, cheeks red, and managed to spit out only one word whilst retrieving the pieces of his pride. “What?” 

He took a pause before following Alex’s avoidant gaze down to his lap, where Alex’s hands lay stiffly between his legs. 

“Oh.” Achilles wiped some imaginary dust off his hands as he pushed aside any lingering embarrassment. “Don’t apologize. You know, I, in fact, actually have a penis, too. I get it, it happens.” Wow! Great job not being awkward! Fucking idiot. But upon seeing Alex’s continued discomfort, he added in a less lighthearted tone, “I meant what I said earlier, Al, we don’t have to do anything. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—” 

“Can—actually, can we talk?” 

“Of course. That’s why I invited you over, right? To talk. It was you who seduced me, you wench. Here.” He pinched his nose—can’t you sound normal just once in your life—and tossed Alex an extra pillow after pulling back the sheets. “We can… put that between us if you’d like, just… give me a second…” 

Achilles usually slept in just a pair of boxers, but after this most recent turn of events, he thought it best to head to the closet for a t shirt. His instincts were validated upon his return—Alex had indeed set the pillow in the middle of the bed, and was now clutching it like a life line. 

He paused, one hand on the corner of the covers. “I— I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I can actually sleep on the couch if you’d like. I’m sorry, I should’ve—”

“No. No, no, no, that’s not it at all, no, it’s, um. It’s something else. I’m sorry. Shit, I’m sorry. It’s… well, it’s me. I’m the problem.” 

“Now don’t say that…” Achilles slipped slowly beneath the duvet, taking care not to accidentally touch as he gave both Alex and the pillow quite a wide berth. He lay on his back, as he usually did, hands folded across his chest. “Talk to me, Al. Floor is yours.”

He had left his bedside lamp on—it was a rather dim glow, usually reserved for late night reading or the crossword if he was having particularly bad sleep troubles, but he could still make out Alex’s furrowed brow from atop the pillow between them. 

“I… um…” A small sigh. Achilles watched Alex rub his face before turning to face the ceiling, one hand still kneading his forehead. “I, um, well… I don’t think—no. I, um…” 

“Do you want me to turn the light off? Will that help?”  

“No, it’s fine. Leave it on, I… I want to see you.”

“Man, you’re not even looking at me.” 

Alex clicked his tongue and continued to stare at the ceiling, but Achilles caught the corners of his mouth turn up just the slightest bit. “Okay, okay, you got me there…”

“Mmhm.” 

“It’s just that… Well. I just…”

This was a mistake. He doesn’t like you like that. He doesn’t want you. 

“I think there’s something wrong with me.” 

Oh. 

Achilles waited for further explanation, but Alex seemed somewhat disinclined to say more, (though in the subsequent silence, Achilles could hear the slight scrape of what was likely aggressive teeth gnashing). After waiting a respectable two minutes for an elaboration, Achilles took it upon himself to lightly prod. “Is it because… you’re… bisexual—” 

“I don’t think I’m bi.” 

“Oh.” Oh. Achilles had masked his surprise quickly, but even so, perhaps it was a good thing Alex wasn’t looking at him. No need to make the guy even more self conscious. “Well. Allow me to be the first person to say there’s nothing wrong with being gay either, if that’s what it is—” 

“That’s not it, I don’t— well. No, I wanted to—You see, what happened was—I- I don’t… I…” 

Alex’s eyes were now full on closed, his hand rather zealously rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

“I’ve had sex before. To be clear. Like a lot of sex. Oh god, why’d I say it like that.” 

“Ah.” Achilles couldn’t help but wince. “It… it would’ve been all right if you hadn’t… to be clear.” 

“I mean, not with a guy.” 

He responded smoothly. “Sure. I assumed.” 

Another sigh, though this one had the hint of a growl as Alex’s exasperation continued to balloon. “Shit. Shoot. This is—well this is obviously not going how I wanted it to— I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying, I just. I’m nervous. About what you’re going to say, and think, and… I just…” 

Fuck, Achilles just wanted to hold him—but the situation was nebulous, and so he instead held his own hands, still resting across his chest, tighter, and kept his voice even. “It’s just me, Al. Like you said earlier, we’re still friends. You can tell me whatever, I’m not going to judge.” 

“But you might.” 

“I won’t.” 

“But you might.” 

“Alexander—” 

“I just—Well. I’ve never been in love before.” 

Finally, Alex turned to face Achilles. He lay on his side, his arms still fiercely wrapped around the pillow, and his face remained troubled—brows knitted, his lower lip drawn between his teeth.

“I was, um, 12, 13 when I moved here. Showed up to middle school smack dab in the middle of term. I was the new kid with a dying mom. Made me interesting, I think. Everyone wanted to be my friend. You know how it is…

“What caught me off guard though, was how many girls wanted to be my friend. Or, I guess, more than my friend, but it was middle school so I mean, how real could a relationship actually be, right…”

It wasn’t hard to imagine a 12 year old Alex—chubbier cheeks, probably, but the same freckles, the same large green eyes and sunny disposition—combine that with a tragic backstory and New Kid Novelty, and it was easy to see why the girls at Meridian Middle School had flocked to him. 

“It was… weird. I didn’t like it. I didn’t understand what they wanted from me… or why.

“And I pretty quickly realized, well, everyone was either girl crazy or boy crazy or both. Not just girls. My guy friends, too. Man, that’s all folks spent lunch yapping on about, who had a crush on who and whatever. I just didn’t get it—man, I just wanted to talk about grid ball. I don’t know, it was like that part of puberty just… never hit me, I guess…

“But after awhile, I think I just kind of assumed that everyone felt the way I did, but you just…weren’t supposed to talk about it. 

“Like I somehow logic-ed it out in my head that your girlfriend was just your best friend who happened to be a girl. And going on dates and stuff, that was just part of having a girlfriend. Like how when you’re a kid you have play dates, when you have a girlfriend you have, well, just… dates. I mean didn’t you say earlier, a date’s basically just hanging out, right? Especially in middle school. It’s just all part of like this script you were supposed to follow—and I mean, it couldn’t have helped that I literally had a dating handbook from my grandpa that was giving me step by step directions, telling me specific things to do. 

“Well anyway… I kept feeling this way, even into high school. People stopped being so boy crazy and girl crazy and whatever then, and I stopped feeling so paranoid, stopped overthinking it.

“And then I dated Haley for two years. Everyone kept telling me to ask her out, so I figured I would. If everyone was saying we’d be perfect together, they must be right, right? She was my first serious relationship. 

“And dating her actually made me feel—well, better. Validated? Is validated the right word? I liked hanging out with her, she was already my best friend, but, I don’t know, she never seemed that into me in any sort of fancy romantic way, she never really wanted to make out or hook up or anything all that often, and I thought, okay so maybe all that stuff really is all just an act, just stuff for movies, maybe I was right all along.

“Of course, that all came crashing down after she told me she was gay. She kept going on about ‘attraction’ and how it wasn’t a me problem, that she didn’t feel that way about any guys at all, that it was girls she liked, and I remember just nodding along because, honestly, I was just confused. 

“I mean, what even is attraction? I’d never thought about that much, not until she was going on and on about it. But when she was describing it, I realized that there was… something else that I was supposed to be feeling. Something I was missing. But it’s hard, you know, like how do you know what it is you’re missing if you’ve never been able to feel it in the first place? 

“You know, side note, funnily enough, after she came out, I actually had a second there where I wondered if maybe I was gay, too. Haley had never had a crush on a guy, I’d never felt that way about a girl—whatever “that way” was supposed to be feel. But I thought about it for a bit and ended up deciding I’d never felt that way about a guy either. And I’d been around a whole lotta guys. Sports camp, swim team… nothing.

“So I figured, well, I went back to square one. Maybe this is just how everyone feels. Maybe I just hadn’t met the right girl, maybe I should just give it some time. Maybe I needed to loosen up. So I just kept going through the motions. Doing what I thought everyone my age was doing.

“I was just so caught up with trying to find or feel or whatever, trying to prove that I was normal. So even though I had a bunch of solid excuses to not care about it all—swimming. Making the Artemics team. My grandparents getting sick—I think a part of me was…. I don’t know. Desperate. To find that feeling that I’d been missing, find that person. So I just kept… you know. Going out on dates. And… other stuff. Just nonstop.” 

Alex seemed to be approaching the crux of his story now. He sucked in a deep breath between his teeth before turning away again while his hands abandoned the pillow to rest atop his own chest, fingers softly tapping between his rib cage. 

“I thought sex was like… you know. Just something you were supposed to do. Like… shaking someone’s hand when you meet them for the first time or… saying thank you when someone opens the door for you. Like it’s just expected you do it. Hold a girl’s hand. Kiss her. Have… sex with her. I didn’t realize people actually wanted… like really wanted to… do these things. Beyond it making the other person happy. Like, I didn’t realize people actually had the… urge to do it. If that makes any sense. 

“Like I remember in college, one of my friends, his girlfriend kept cheating on him and I just couldn’t understand why, you know? Like why was it so hard for her not to cheat? Like, what could you possibly be feeling that made you do that, like, what was the reason, why would you sabotage something so easily in your control? And for my friend—why was it so hard, just break up with her already. Like, why stay with someone who… isn’t treating you good?” 

There was a small pause, but rather than dwell on darker memories, Alex continued steadily on. 

“I know there’s probably more to it, but I guess I just didn’t understand that kind of love. That feeling of… being in love with someone. I had never felt it before. That is…” 

Achilles felt Alex stir under the covers, felt him shift his weight as he turned onto his side, peaked his head back above the pillow like a turtle to look at him, a small smile now on his face.“That is, until last week. With you.

“You’re the first person, Ash. And I don’t know why, I don’t know why it’s you—don’t get me wrong, I’m… I’m glad it is.” He laughed, and to Achilles’ surprise, he reached across the pillow for his hand. 

“And I see why now it took me so long to even realize there was something wrong with me, that I was missing something, because how could anyone have ever really described to me what this feels like? Attraction. Even now, feeling it now, it’s just… wow. It’s like friends. Like best friend, I don’t know. But… different. And I like it.” 

Alex’s tiny sigh of satisfaction sent Achilles heart beating faster, but the rate at which Alex’s remaining hand was tapping against his chest began to quicken as well, and his tone grew more serious. 

“But if I’m honest, I… Well. I still feel like a part of me is missing something. In regards to, well… well, just… sex. Like… wanting to have sex. 

“I don’t understand why, because I really really like you, I do, and I… well I really liked kissing you. And stuff. And I… well… well normally I spend the time trying not to think about how gross the whole concept of making out with someone kind of is, but for the first time in my life ever, I… I want to do it. Like want to do it. Again. I mean of course, only if you, I don’t know… ever want to do it with me again… Shit. I sound 12, don’t I? Yoba, listen to me, we’ve had one date, you might never want to see me again.” 

A rather sheepish smile—Alex ran his free hand through his hair. 

“I don’t get it, I don’t get why it feels different, you’d think it’d be the same thing, wanting to be close to someone, wanting to kiss someone, wanting to have sex with them, I don’t know. Wow, I don’t think I’ve said sex as many times in my life as I have just now. What a weird word. Ok, sorry, anyway, I don’t know why I feel one but not the other now. I don’t get it, there’s just… something wrong with me, I don’t know. 

“I know this probably doesn’t make much sense, because I’ve hooked up with lots of people before that that I didn’t feel anything for, but I just… because I like you, and because I… do want to be with you, I want to… I don’t know, I want to… want it with you. Like, I want it to feel better, more, I don’t know, purposeful, than all the other times. 

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that having sex was, like, traumatic or anything in the past—no one forced me to do anything I didn’t want to do—I mean, I never wanted to do it, but only in the sense that I never had, like, the urge to do it. I wanted to want it, but every time I did it, it just felt like… I don’t know. A chore. Yeah. It felt like a chore, and honestly, according to a lot of the girls I dated, I was pretty dang bad at it —for reasons that, you know, now make a lot more sense—until I learned how to, you know— actually, we don’t have to get into that—um, well—anyway, back to what I was saying—

“And, I don’t know, I’d stopped hooking up with people by the time I left school. Given up, I guess, just figured there was something wrong with me. And just thinking about sex in general now makes me kind of…anxious. And I don’t want it to feel like that with you, I don’t want to… bring that in there, if that makes sense. I want this to feel… different. 

“Shit, wow, I guess all of this to say… super long story just to ask I guess… to just… I guess what I’m asking is if we can… can we take it slow? Is that stupid to ask? Is that, like, super lame? At 25 years old? Or I guess 28 in your case… geez…”

It took a second before Achilles, still digesting everything Alex had shared, realized he’d been asked a question. It was those green eyes—blinking wide-eyed rather expectantly—that jolted him back to the present, and with a small jump, he rushed to respond with something more akin to a squeal, “Not at all!” But worried that his hasty and high-pitched response (ugh) suggested a sentiment something more to the contrary, Achilles hurried to grip Alex’s hand tighter and said more firmly, “We’ll go as slow as you want. Slow as you need.” 

The reassurance seemingly failed to land, as Alex turned slightly away. “I… I know sex is… important to a lot of people, and it’s stupid to ask you to wait, it’s not like there’s a good reason—”

“—Al, any reason is a good reason—”

“—and I don’t want you to wait if you don’t want to, I mean like, if you’re someone who likes sex and, well, wants it…” Alex trailed off, but watched Achilles intently as the latter reached slowly over the pillow to brush aside some of the hair that had fallen into his face. 

“I mean, I won’t lie, Al. Like, I like having sex.” Achilles snorted, moving his hand down, tracing the line of Alex’s jaw. So smooth… the man shaved religiously, a holdover habit now unlikely to be broken anytime soon with his return to the competitive swimming world. “But I like you more. I think.”

Alex laughed, placing his hand now over Achilles’ to cup his own face. 

“No, but in all seriousness, it’s fine. Thank you for telling me this.” 

“But are you really sure? You’re fine with waiting? I… I don’t know how long it’ll be. I wish I could give you a timeline, I mean I wish I could say for sure it’ll actually even happen, to be honest, I don’t even know, but then I again I didn’t think I’d ever fall in love, but I see now these are different, and I don’t want to overpromise something that may not ever actually—” 

“Al, seriously. It’s fine. I’ll wait forever as long as I’m waiting with you.” 

This time, Alex’s smile reached his eyes, igniting that glimmer of mischief. He gave Achilles’ hand a firm, final smack before turning onto his back once again. “Well… forever’s an awfully long time, I think at a certain point I’d just… well, you know.” He made a circle with his left thumb and pointer finger and began to slowly move his right index finger towards it before Achilles whacked his shoulder. 

“Boy, I swear to Yoba—”

But Alex cut him off with a surprise kiss on the cheek. There was a careless sweetness to it, and despite the comparative innocence of the gesture, Achilles immediately bloomed pink—but as Alex returned to lying down, letting himself collapse atop the pillow, there was one final furrow still striking his brow. 

“I just… are you… disappointed? Achilles?” 

“What?” 

“I know, I know, you said it’s fine, but I just… I just want to… I don’t know. Are you disappointed? In me? You’ll tell the truth, won’t you?” 

Achilles understood. The need to hear a specific set of words—the hunger for honesty alongside the anxious ache for approval. He kept it simple. “I’m not disappointed in you. And you could never disappoint me.” 

It was remarkable, the speed at which those words transformed him; like night and day, Alex was now beaming like a sunrise. With a jaunty little wriggle, he pulled the covers up to his chin. “Okay. I’ll stop being sad now. I’ve ruined your sleep schedule enough and you’ve got a big day tomorrow.” 

“Elliott’s got a big day tomorrow, I’ve got like, a medium day.” But even so, Achilles leaned over the nightstand to flick off the lamp. 

“Medium shmedium… good night, Ash.” 

The pillow still rested between them, but Achilles didn’t mind. He knew Alex was there, and he knew now for sure Alex wanted him. 

He wasn’t sure how long he spent replaying the evening in his head—perhaps Alex had already fallen asleep, it was, admittedly quite a lot to digest—but nevertheless, at some point Achilles found himself suddenly speaking into the darkness.  

“It’s a thing, you know. Asexuality. Aromanticism. There’s a spectrum for both, but it’s all…  valid. It’s all… real, for lack of a better word, what you’ve felt and not felt in the past. There’s nothing wrong with you.” 

[popcornforone]

Impulsive

A Nico (House Comes With A Bird) Fan Fic

I have been very impulsive really with doing stuff. It’s not like me & I was trying to think which Pedro character that could work with & then I remembered Nico… we know little about him… he seems Romantic but also if he decides on something he does it first & then asks questions later, so I picked him

Synopsis: Your not happy that Nico has made some big decisions that you didn’t agree on but how can you ever stay angry at a man with those eyes.

Word count 1500

Warnings: Do not read if under 18. Mentions of sex, anger, venting, make up sex, impulsive behaviour, angst. A small amount of swearing.not listening.

I tried to write this gender natural again, so I hope I did it okay.

As always that’s for the read peoples. All fees back is welcome.

You’re angry, very angry. Your other half Nico has just assumed your happy to not just move in with him to see if your relationship can withstand being in the same house as him all the time, but he’s automatically, being the confident self assured impulsive man he is, has put both his house & your apartment on the market without even consulting you.

Most people would jump for joy when their partner after 9 months asks them to move in. But he’s rash & he’s impulsive & he’s just gone straight to the estate agents & put your own property on the market without you knowing. It was awkward walking into your apartment while as the estate agent is busy taking photos without your knowledge.

You shouted at Nico once they had left. His self confidence & charm drew you to him at the bar that night. You were desperate to feel any man at all, if you were honest but the one who stayed & didn’t just up & leave once the deed was done was a novelty to you. Him staying around & him waiting on your every word, had you pining for more & more. & suddenly the stay overs became regular, along with the dates & now the occasional weekend away. He really is your perfect man. Except for his impulsive nature which pisses you off 30% of the time. Sometimes it’s just not needed.

Since that day you’ve seen Nico once, for dinner & then sex afterwards, which neither of you put that much effort into, it wasn’t even make up sex, it was just because you both thought you should but neither of you felt a thing. He, in one Impulsive move, as extinguished your fire & passion for him. You still talk & you still really want to be with him, but you need him to realise that this impulsive behaviour, does sometimes go a little bit too far.

You know he’s been house viewing today. He did ask you to come with him on the phone last night but you said at such short notice you couldn’t get the time off work, but you would be interested to see what he likes at a second & third viewing, trying desperately to show to him that things can take time & they don’t have to always be right here right now snap decisions. But you know full well that whoever is showing Nico around whatever house it is will be under his charm straight away. It worked with you after all & you feel a little jealous that someone else will experience this.

The day passes at work, not one voice mail or text or message to say how the viewing went or how did he feel about each of the properties. Nothing, nothing at all. You send him a couple of standard slightly angry partner messages to him to show you’re still not happy but you know why he did that messages, across the day. You sit there waiting for a reply but it just says delivered & then read.

When you get in your car to drive home from work to your little apartment, it comes up with 4 voice mails, all in the last 25 minutes. You don’t even hesitate. You put the aux cable on to listen to them through your car while on your drive back.

Message 1

Babes, house 1 & 2 are duds, there’s no point putting an offer on either of them. I’m still going to go to house 3 so I will send you the details on them so we can talk later. Love you x

Message 2

Do you want a pet bird? I’ve just got here & they have said the bird has to stay with the house, which is weird? Let me know when you get this babes xx

Message 3

I’ve just walked around this house my love & just imagined all the different scenarios we could have here, from having the iced water, to the large fire for making love in front of in the winter & the pool outside, which yes I dipped me toes in & it was freezing, but it just felt right

Fire & water have to coexist so they appreciate the earth.

That’s a bad analogy I know

0kay, please just call me when you’ve got this, I…. I miss your voice

Message 4

Did I do something else to piss you off? your not responding to my messages like you usually do? Oooh it’s Wednesday tho isn’t it… I’ll buy you some wine.

Those are Nicos 4 message. You listen to them intently as you drive home & go to reply when he sends a voice note. “Can I come over?” Is all it says to which you reply of “course my love” knowing you’re only 5mins out. Which then makes you freak out a few mins later when you pull up & see his car always parked outside. He was already here waiting for you before you had said yes.

Nico is waiting outside your apartment door. You know he has access to the spare key in the box, that’s how the estate agents got in, but he hasn’t. He’s got flowers & wine in his hand & a shy apologetic look on his face. You are trying to keep your guard up so he knows you still feel hurt, but with those big brown eyes looking so soft & sad, it’s impossible to not forgive him. That’s why you’ve avoided him, because you know you will instantly let him off the hook for what he did.

“Sorry” he says shyly, the impulsive charmer has gone. Standing in front of you is a sorry boy “say it again Nico” you say as you put your keys in the door & open it. He takes your hand with his spare & leans into your neck from behind & whispers “I’m so sorry, I just got carried away” the smile on your face is huge, playing hard ball has made him all apologetic. Once you are both the other side of the door & it is locked, dinner for the two of you isn’t even considered. The flowers & bottle of wine placed on the table as you take Nico to the bedroom to reignite his impulsive fire.

Your moaning from his charm & passion would make your neighbour feel jealous. Every trace across your body with his long fingers, makes you want more. The way you rock in unison as he takes care of both your needs. His fluffy hair slowly sticking to his face from sweat, & yet he makes sure that yours isn’t covering your face so he can look into your eyes as the desire grows. He wants this. He needs this & he knows that with each thrust between you before you both climax makes you both fall for each other even more. He’s needy & you want it all. The passion, the desire, the lust. He just makes all these emotions over flow inside you & at your most intimate & sensitive moments together, makes you forget that there is a world outside of your bedroom walls.

While you lay in the afterglow & pepper Nicos neck with kisses, apologising to him as well for being angry, he shows you house number 3. It’s perfect but a little large. “Do we need all that space baby” you coo & beam a grin back to his face. “I think we do, I’d like this to be our forever home” this startles you a little but makes your butterflies flutter inside you. “A forever home?” “Well I wanted to say that earlier but thought it would be a little too impulsive after everything that we discussed the other day, I didn’t want to put you in another bad mood” his large hand traces over your shoulder “so what do you say my love, would you like this to be our forever?” Yous lips answer for you, as they collide with his & you pull him back in close. “Never change baby, Keep being impulsive, just let me know major things, when you think of them” he kisses you back & his hand trails down your body “deal baby, but sex doesn’t count as a big decision right?” He winks before he starts to engage in round two. Both your fires reignited, your passion & love for each other alive, & your impulses being taken care of.

[softguarnere]

Like A Girl (Like A Man)

Shifty Powers x OFC

Chapter 17: Forbidden Contact

Summary: And then he leaves it there.

A/N: Writing about Appalachia makes me feel like that scene in Lady Bird where she realizes that she doesn't actually hate California because she writes about it so fondly.

Warnings: improper chest binding, mentions of war

Taglist: @liebgotts-lovergirl @latibvles @lieutenant-speirs @ithinkabouttzu @mrs-murder-daddy

Holland, 1944

“What’s it like where you’re from?” Babe asks.

Not Zenie’s favorite question. However, Holland is much more wet than she ever imagined it to be. Easy Company has once again found themselves in an orchard, sitting in fox holes that are perpetually full of water no matter what they do. Even surrounded by your fellow soldiers, it can be easy to feel alone. Minds tend to wander if not kept vigilant, travelling into dangerous territories. So even though Zenie might not like revealing too much about where she’s from, at least Babe’s question gives her something to do.

“Probably the opposite of Philly.”

“How so?”

“Well, it’s more spread out, for one thing. And nothing’s level, because of all the mountains and foothills.”

“I heard Shifty tell somebody that the mountains are blue where he’s from. Is your town the same?”

Clinchco had reminded Zenie so much of her own hometown. Her heart clenches now at the memory of standing on top of Frying Pan with Shifty, gazing down at the town sprawling below them. After all, that had been the trip where she realized –

“Yeah. Most Appalachian towns are the same. Just laid out a little differently.”

Babe nods. From the corner of her eye, she can see his brow furrow as he thinks. It’s sweet. He does it often whenever he’s pondering things. It’s how you can tell that he’s really listening to what other people say. Every time he does it, Zenie wants to ask him what his thought process is. He’s so similar to Bill, but at the same time, she never knows what he’s going to say next.

Whatever he’s thinking, he doesn’t get the chance to share it.

“Mail call!” Luz’s voice rings through the orchard. The effect is instantaneous, sending soldiers climbing out of their muddy fox holes and flocking to him. They’ve been out in the open for so long that no one cares about covering up how eager they are to get something from home. And those who get nothing are fortunate that their friends are willing to let them read their letters.

Their first week, Zenie hadn’t gone to mail calls, because she knew not to expect anything. It had been a nice surprise when Luz had tracked her down and delivered a letter from Shifty’s parents, who told her that they were praying for her and hoped that she was doing well. With so much time on her hands, she found herself writing back to them. And more importantly, finally answering her own mother’s letter, after so long . . .

“Driver, Thomas!” Luz thrusts an envelope her way, shocking her. The envelope sends a little thrill through her, but when she recognizes Bobby’s handwriting on the front, her heart falls a bit.

Just like every mail call, she follows her friends to the base of one of the orchard’s many trees. They all take a seat, eager to open letters one by one and read them aloud. It’s like a performance, with laughter and smiles and big expressions, all so out of place in the muddy, wet environment they’ve been stuck in.

“Hey, Shifty,” Babe says as they all sit. “The mountains blue where you’re from?” When the Virginian nods, he asks, “What makes ‘em that way?”

Shifty smiles as he thinks of home. “My Daddy explained it to me once. See, there’s so much vegetation on the mountains that the vapor catches the light a certain way, and it scatters blue light.”

“Huh.”

Shifty’s smile softens. He looks down at his hands. “But some folks have a different explanation.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He’s sitting right beside her, but Shifty still shifts towards Zenie, like he’s passing the torch to her. “Tommy can probably explain it better than me.”

Zenie blinks. All eyes are on her.

“Why’re the mountains blue, Tommy?”

Shifty could explain it just as well as she could. Better, even, with his smooth speech cadence and thoughtful words. Zenie takes a breath before she tries to explain.

“My Granny used to tell me that the color and the fog were caused by the prayers of all our ancestors rising up to meet the Creator.”

“Like . . . God?” Bill asks.

She shrugs. “Kind of.”

“That’s a nice thought.” Babe nods, that thoughtful look on his face again. “Yeah. I like that.”

In the orchard, they’re already sitting close under the trees. Still, on her left, Shifty moves his right leg. His right knee bumps into Zenie’s left.

And then he leaves it there.

To everyone else, Shifty and Zenie – er, Shifty and Tommy – are good friends. It looks like his leg has bumped into his friend’s leg and that neither of them minds it. The contact means something entirely different to Zenie, though. It’s so casual. Shifty doesn’t acknowledge what he’s done. Zenie, on the other hand, stares at their knees, the rest of the world fading away as she considers the small and forbidden contact that he’s established with her. She forgets where she is until Babe hands her a photograph of someone’s girlfriend that’s being passed around while a letter is read.

She stays distracted by their touching knees until it’s her turn. Then she has an entirely new problem. Reading a letter from Bobby aloud for the first time won’t give her the chance to omit any sensitive content about her situation without a noticeable pause. Everyone else is so open with the information in the letters that they share. It’s a stark reminder that no matter how close to these men she feels, and no matter how they see her, she can never be truly among them. Not like this.

Slowly, Zenie opens the envelope and removes the folded letter. Crinkling paper fills their little area of the orchard as she unfolds and smooths it. All eyes are on her, every man eager for news of home, even if it isn’t from their home.

“It’s from my friend Bobby. He lives on the farm next door,” Zenie begins slowly, trying to scan over the words without being obvious that she’s trying to read ahead. “Um. Dear Tommy, I’ve read all about the Allied Invasion of Europe in all the papers. They said that the paratroopers jumped into France. You probably can’t tell me where you are, or what you did in the invasion, but it must have really been something. No one has heard anything about you, so I’m assuming that you made it through okay. You can always tell me the full story when you get home.

“Speaking of home . . . The last time I wrote you, I told you that something had happened with your family, but that I wasn’t sure if I should tell you. You said you wanted to know, so here it is: your older brother – “

The words are there on the page, yet they stick in Zenie’s throat as her eyes pass over them. The paper in her hand feels heavy and the world around her feels far away . . .

Beside her, she feels Shifty’s knee move against hers. When she looks up, he’s looking at her earnestly. His forehead is scrunched up in that way it always does when he’s thinking. He pushes his knee into hers with more pressure. Surrounded by the others, this is all he can give her.

“Oh God,” Bill says from across the circle. “Tommy, your brother?”

All eyes are still on her, now with a different emotion behind them entirely. Instead of eagerness, there is only pity. It’s the same look that the old ladies at church were always giving her after Granny died; that look that makes you feel so terrible because everyone wants to catch a glimpse of your tragedy without helping you through it.

Zenie clears her throat and tries again, as if that will unstick the stuck words.

“Your older brother was discharged from the Air Corps. There was some sort of accident while he was working on one of the planes and his leg was busted up real bad. They managed to save it, but he has a bad limp, and they say he will for the rest of his life.”

“Tommy,” someone says sadly.

Zenie rushes on, “He was here for a few weeks. Your father is upset because he brought a Red Cross girl home. Apparently, they got married while in England and are planning on moving East to farm tobacco with your father’s parents . . .”

She doesn’t want to read any more. No one protests. The letter is returned to its envelope, only half read.

It’s not the news that everyone expected. Matthew is not dead, thank God. But he was hurt. And he had to go home. And now he’s married and is moving to the eastern part of the state. Off to a new life.

“Who’s next?” She looks to Shifty, who’s still looking at her.

He blinks as everyone’s attention moves to him. He casts Zenie a few glances while he reads the letter from his father, and a few more times while other people read their letters. She can feel his gaze, but she stares down at the envelope in her hands. If she looks at him, she might not be able to hold herself back.

He keeps his knee pressed against hers.

If there was no privacy in the fox holes in France, there’s even less in the orchards of Holland. Eugene keeps making excuses for Zenie to sneak off to the nurses’ station so that she can get clean bandages and have a few minutes of respite to unbind her chest. He doesn’t leave her any say in the matter, either – he just whisks her a way for a bit and then allows her to return to the company when he deems fit.

Finding time alone was near impossible before opening her letter from Bobby. Everyone quickly figured out that sitting by yourself in a fox hole was a lonely way to exist, and that not everyone’s minds went to the best places when left alone. Bill had been keeping a watchful eye on everyone, constantly making rounds and speaking to them to keep morale up. Somehow, he gets his hands on a motorcycle and begins using that to get around the line. Now even when he’s not around, someone always seems to be in Zenie’s fox hole, and she doesn’t have to wonder if they’re there of their own accord or her friend’s.

Babe has become a standard of life in Holland. He shares a fox hole with Zenie more often than not. He keeps things interesting with his questions and observations.

The days blur together. There is nothing but the stagnant water in their fox holes, the monotonous flavor of the apples from the orchard’s trees, and the tedium of waiting every day for something to happen. Small patrols are sometimes sent out. Zenie helplessly watches Shifty get sent on a few of them. Other than that, she and whoever she happens to be sharing a fox hole with talk about everything and nothing all at once until it’s time to go to sleep for a few hours so they can do it all again the next day. Sometimes the only thing that marks the start of a new day is a fresh tally mark on the back of one of Zenie’s envelopes.

“Thirty-two?” Babe squints at the paper. The constant sogginess of their living conditions has caused some of the pencil marks to smear.

“That can’t be right,” Luz says around a mouthful of apple. “Gotta be more than that. But I lost track somewhere around day twenty, so what do I know?”

Zenie uses the dull tip of her pencil to poke each mark as she recounts them. “There’s only thirty marks, Babe. But I think I forgot a few days.”

Luz snorts. “All our days out here are so eventful. I can’t believe you would forget the most exciting time of our lives, Tommy.”

She rolls her eyes and elbows him. She’s about to make some wisecrack about counting down the days until she doesn’t have to smell the stench of unshowered paratroopers anymore when fast footsteps approach their small group. From the sound of them, it’s Joe.

Her assumption is proved correct by George’s fond greeting. “Hiya, Joe! Say, where’s the fire?”

Joe huffs, catching his breath. Something about the sound – unsettled, almost – makes Zenie turn to look at him. With the angle of the sun, a shadow is cast across Toye’s face by his helmet. Even with the obstruction, his expression is grim.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I thought you should be the first to hear it.” His words cause so much tension among them that Zenie can’t be sure if he actually pauses for a long moment or if she imagines it. “Bill’s been shot. His leg is broken.”

The trio is on their feet in a second, demanding more answers. Joe waits for them to finish before he says the words that make Zenie’s stomach drop.

“They’re taking him off the line.”

[the-fluffiest-trainer]

Pelipper mail! A nightmare.

You are a human, or something like one, and you have made a friend. A man whose armor and his shield are hand-painted, who is soft-spoken yet determined, and brave enough to risk his life even for strangers who hail from other worlds.

A seeker of sunlight, from a time when the sun still lived. A guide to the most hostile of lands, and a fellow blade at your side in facing down their terrors.

Together, you pass the church bell's guardians. Together, you destroy a four-winged hellspawn from the depths. Together, you vanquish the dragonslayer and executioner, and together you reap the reward.

And then, you descend into the caves beneath the earth.

You fight through demons with a thousand legs, cross seas of magma with sorcery shielding your feet, and there, in the ancient, lost city of fire and engineering and the purest essences of life... there, your friend finds his sun at last.

He finds it, because you helped him all the way. He finds it, because you stood at each others' sides through the soaring towers and through the deep. He finds it, and there he dies.

There, within the bowels of the earth, your friend is dead, and you are to blame. But could you have ever done otherwise? Could you have stood by and not helped one so dear to you achieve his life's desire?

Perhaps, or perhaps not. There is no going back. There is only the single fact that remains, an immutable certainty: had the pair of you not stepped into that cave, your friend would still be alive.

No... no we don't have to fight, please, just put it down...

Ohhh, where... I'm awake. I'm... right, Ambrette Town. It was just a bad dream, that's all, just--

Another one of you! How did you even get into my room? No, come back here, just tell me... what in Celestia's name...

Muffin, did you see that? The bird just disappeared. Through a... a portal, or something. Is that what these things do? Just show up, deliver nightmares or weird scary things, and then leave?

It's fading now, but... wow. That was so nice, until it all went wrong, in the cave...

[indecisive-dizzy]

Okay I feel like I’ve sent so many angst ideas that I’m sending some fluff as compensation

Is it fully gonna be Wallace and Barnaby? Yas

Wallace has absolutely no idea how crushes work. Barnaby was probably his first crush and he’s completely clueless about what he’s supposed to do

Wallace is very reserved and anxious, he’s a mediator and makes sure Holly doesn’t do anything crazy, so he’s pretty much just there

Barnaby and Wallace go on dates at Howdy’s bodega, he’s the wingman

Wallace loves petting Barnaby, his fur is very fluffy and it’s calming for Wallace to just run his fingers through it

Pet names are a must. Also cute jokes/puns about their relationship

Wallace dyes his hair red, so there’s days Barnaby tries to help but ends up just making a bit of a mess and somehow he dyes a chunk of his fur red

Barnaby’s tail wags and Wallace can’t help but find it adorable

Wallace will make Barnaby wear pants, nothing else to add

They take a ton of photos together, plus they go birdwatching sometimes. Barnaby chases the birds away while Wallace takes photos of them

Wallace sometimes helps Eddie by delivering mail, and Barnaby totally dogpiled on him because he saw a mailman

That’s how I think they first met lmao, Barnaby broke Wallace’s glasses and Holly chased him away with a rolled up newspaper 🗞

Truly love at first sight/tackle :]

Bodega date,, they have a milkshake with one straw, Barnaby makes a mess lmao

Wingman Howdy is amazing, he's hyping Barnaby the whole time. actually. it gets out of hand and he ends up talking about how great he is like some kinda advertisement. He's advertising Barn's rizz

Barnaby getting red dye in his fur is hilarious. he already has some red spots so what's one more!

wha- make him wear pants?! have you ever seen a dog wear pants? no because it's an affront to nature /j /nsrs

Meet cute where your future boyfriend dogpiles you because he thought you were the mailman. "And that, kids, is how I met your father!"

[miskatonicfolly]

Working Holiday

@ikkaku-of-heart

Herbert was a very private person. He kept to himself. Everyone knew it. And they quite preferred that he was not a sociable person. Just about any person that met him wanted to get as far away from him as possible in a timely manner. It was a trait of people that Herbert actually enjoyed. A lack of bothersome fools made it easier to do his work.

But what was truly bothersome was the occasional twinge of deep-seated loneliness that followed such a life of solitude. It didn't hit often, but when it did, it often left Herbert winded and nauseous. It was a cursed sensation he was literally unable to remove himself. That need of others only ever added to the queasy feeling gripping his stomach.

In recent times though, there had been a palatable cure: a visit from Ikkaku.

Herbert grumbled as he pushed his glasses up into his hair before rubbing his eyes. He sat at the desk in his basement lab. Water-stained tomes and dozens of pages of notes lay scattered out before him. Below these items lay a map of Arkham and the surrounding land that corralled it in. Notes scribbled in doctor chicken-scratch lay scattered about various sections of the map.

He looked to the right side of the table. There was a smaller map, an interior map, laying near the corner. It was old and tattered, long forgotten by many Arkham citizens who lay blissfully unaware in their silver-guarded homes.

Herbert scoffed and slipped his glassed back into place before he grabbed his notepad. Taking a breath, he slowed his hand as he wrote. In clear script, he addressed the letter to Ikkaku. He looked at the map on the table again before returning to his letter:

Ikkaku, I am sure that you are in favorable health. I have stumbled upon a discovery of possible interest to us both. I must admit that I would appreciative of having your insight on my findings. Should your situation not be dire or overly taxing, I suggest that perhaps it would be a benefit for you to return home for a short time. ,Herbert

He reread the letter once before grabbing an envelope. Instructions for delivery were written on the front before he stood and went to deliver it to the mail service.

It still confounded him how mail birds could always find the proper pirates but the bumbling World Government never could.

There was a lack of logic to their world made Herbert's head ache.