#and my right knee (bad knee) bent but pointing straight up at the sky. i was trying to sleep like this. i was amazed when it didn’t work

[fingertipsmp3]

I think my biggest problem today is that I’m fundamentally okay but I’m also running on 3 hours’ sleep and I’m not used to it and it has made me slow and a little crazy

[isa-ah]

so heres my pitch for what happens before dimple shows up in the icmhwau:

teruki and mob are hanging out in the middle of one of black vinegars soccer fields. its after school and the sky is heavy and grey, but it hasnt started to rain just yet. mob snuck a milk carton on his way out so he could come see one of the stray cats that sometimes wander onto the school grounds. this one he knows from sitting by for terukis soccer practice over the last few months.

while hes bent down, making soft sounds and petting it, teruki is standing behind him, hands jammed in his pockets and sneering bc he doesnt do. exactly great. not being the center of attention. hes tapping his toe and waiting for mob to get it over with so they can go when theres this big crack of thunder overhead and the cat goes skittering off toward the trees- just as the sky opens up and theres one of those heavy late spring downpours.

teruki is taken offguard, bracing for the rain, when he realizes hes still stood there dry. mobs got a hand up, having thrown a barrier over them reflexively, and humming his disappointment. he stands, dusting his knees off, and when he turns around teruki tries to look like he hasnt just been standing there watching the whole time.

"can we go now?" rude. but no more rude than he usually is, so mob doesnt really mind. he hums his affirmation but pauses, and then shakes his head. teruki frowns and turns fully toward him in response.

mob kinda stands there, hands flexing and unflexing cause hes really not good at putting things into words in this au. it drags on long enough that teruki is just starting to pull away with a scoff when he is stopped cold like he took a stone to the head.

"teru."

that gets his attention in a big way that makes his stomach roil. mobs never addressed him like this before- maybe a soft hanazawa-kun when he needed to, but the nickname cuts straight to the core and he is on guard immediately.

"i.. was thinking."

and now he is feeling outright defensive. a thousand scenarios playing out right like is mob sick of this? is this going to be bad news? is he trying to sugar coat it? and then, worst case scenario; mob steps forward, and starts to reach for him. his hands are small and bruised, little scars and bandages wrapped around his fingers. teruki put those there, and it feels like an intimacy too sacred and mortifying to be broached.

so teruki panics.

"DONT TOUCH ME!" slapping his hands aside. "you just laid hands on that disgusting vermin, its probably diseased."

and mob stands there looking so shocked teruki feels a thrill of success. derailed. whatever was about to happen has been successfully derailed. he preens, starting to turn to pull the lead before mob can recover, but mob speaks before he can get very far.

"cats are actually very good at grooming." tone flat, dry. it gets under terukis skin. mob never objects.

"yeah right. like im going to hear about hygiene from a brute like you." baseless, and mean, the kind of cutting comment he throws around easy but it seems to catch mob off guard this time.

hes frowning, brows turned down and his hair ruffled by a wind that cant reach them through his barrier. teruki sneers and mob shoves him, hands splayed into his ribs in frustrated defiance. teruki scoffs and pushes him tumbling back onto his ass, standing over him.

& its just instinct tbh, at this point, learned experience from watching teruki get backed into corners with his mouth, when mob mutters, "youre mean." and when teruki looks surprised, he continues. "youre a very mean person."

which teruki is taken aback by. "oh, as if! you dont have a high horse, not when youre just some commoner who happens to listen to instruction better than the rest of them. like you havent picked plenty of your own fights, too." that sort of thing. "its embarrassing that youd even try to come after me when youre just some- some nobody."

& its clearly reaching its mark bc as teruki talks, mobs curling his fingers into the grass and bits of dirt and torn blades are starting to curl up into the stagnant, humid air around them. his hairs started to lift and he looks unhappy.

"oh dont look so surprised. you knew what this was. and beyond that- you dont scare me, kageyama. i could kick your ass and still-"

hes cut off by this dizzying woosh, this spike of energy that makes his head spin, and the vertigo only intensifies as he looks around and realizes the barrier is gone; its not that the rain isnt landing on them, its that the rain isnt landing at all.

mob was definitely not radiating unadulterated power like this last time. he may have.. miscalculated his approach.

& you can imagine it from there. teruki panics and lashes out first, which pushes mob over the edge and suddenly theyre fighting and its UGLY. it makes their initial fight look like a joke. it makes the soccer field look like a battleground. it knocks teru half conscious, held by the throat in mobs sweaty, burning grip with blood dripping into his eyes when hes got an abrupt sense of nausea and something eye piercingly green shoots out his nose with an unceremonious, "oh jesus, kid."

im not like, a writer, but you get the idea. fill it in to be better than i could do it LOLOL mob tried to finally put into words, somewhat, what he feels about teruki, which made teruki FREAK because he doesnt know how to be vulnerable like that, he lashes out at mob, mob lashes out back, the autistic immovable object vs the unstoppable adhd force leading into an rsd death spiral. messy. awful. mob knocks the snot (dimple) out of him lololol

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry IX

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), mild violence, male-iinduced anxiety

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: The first day of the tournament arrives.

Note: My pupper had surgery yesterday and it was my longer day of work for the week so lots going on. Also had some bad Chinese but managed to get this out before it came back up. Feel better now and I'll have a shorter day today.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Lord Barnes’ mood did not improve in the days leading up to the first of the tournament. It grew colder in the capital and many feared the events would be cut short by an early winter. You didn’t care much either way. You had no interest in the sport or much of anything. You just abided the duke and in those times he left you alone, you laid in a void.

His want of you didn’t wane nor did your despair or the disgust you felt when he touched you. It was one thing to be a servant, to be a tool, a means to an end, but what he used you for now seemed little more than torture. He delighted in what he did, in how he made you suffer. Those times you remained unmoving and unfeeling angered him the most.

You dressed in yellow that morning. The horns announced the beginning of the tournament as you made your way to the stand amid the sea of guests. The wives, daughters, sons, mothers and fathers of those who would compete. You were out of place as you climbed the wooden steps between the benches and a green sleeve shot up to wave to you.

“Dearie!” May brushed past her husband to stop you at the end of their seat, “here, with us,” she insisted, “we did save you a place.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” you said quietly. You hadn’t seen her or her family since the night of the feast. Since Barnes had…

“I can’t have you sitting alone,” she trilled as she pulled you along with her and sat beside Lord Benjamin who bowed his head and issued a gentle greeting. “And I always longed for a daughter, you know? Peter’s a good boy but so troublesome. I did try to persuade him not to enter the lists but he just never stops.”

“The boy’s old enough,” Benjamin said, “when I was his age--”

“You married me,” May cut in, “a foolish decision indeed. He is on the roster for today. Sparring. I fear he might not make it past the early rounds but so long as he is not hurt.”

You nodded and covered your hands in your sleeves. Even with the fur-trimmed cloak Barnes allotted you, it was crisp. Your matching cap barely kept the cool air from your cheeks. Your leg shook from more than the cold as you recalled that Barnes was set to compete with the sword as well.

“A fine cape,” May commented as she touched the edge of your cloak, “with sleeves even.”

You looked down at the fawn-coloured garment that only allowed a peek of the canary yellow beneath. You fidgeted and kept your eyes on the field, “a gift,” you lied, well, maybe it wasn’t a lie, or maybe you’d bought it in sweat and tears.

Another horn blew and she quieted and clapped as all looked to the center of the arena. The wooden stands were hung in all shades of silk, the banners of each house, high and low, covered the rafters. By the end of the day, only one would remain. Lord Barnes’ blue and ivory flapped opposite your side and Benjamin pointed out his family's slender red and black crest amidst the panoply.

You were thankful for the distraction, not for you but for them. You didn’t know how many lies you could conjure or if you could keep the false smile on your lips. You clamped your hands together and watched a man in gold stroll out to the centre of the stadium with a cone to project his voice. You stood with May and Benjamin and the rest of the onlookers

“Fine ladies and gentlemen, princes, paupers, and everything in between, we welcome you in name of King Samuel to the Games of Goblets. For each competition, the victor is to be prized a goblet to bear as a symbol of his prestige. For the ax-throwing, bronze inlaid with amber, for the bow-and-arrow, silver set with citrine, for the melee, gold set with sapphire, and for the joust, a fine piece in gold set with opal and ruby.”

The crowd applauded and shouted. The man waited for them to quiet again, “This day, we begin with the melee, on the morrow, the axe, the next day, the arrow, and on the final day, we ride!”

Again, the audience grew rowdy and you were deafened by the cheers. The man laughed at the excitement and held up his hand for a final lull.

“Without further delay, let us begin. In our first round, the lower lords and the untested, before the second where they shall meet our season veterans, and so on…” he gauged the fervent tension of the people, “you will see me again upon the finale and perhaps you will be surprised by whoever stands with me.”

Again, the stand quaked with the energy of the people. You would have liked to sit but you stayed on your feet, afraid to draw unwanted attention. The first pair was announced but you didn’t watch. You stared at the sky or a rippling banner but had no interest in the games.

You only stopped to look as Peter’s name was called out and May grabbed your arm. She squealed as her nephew came out decked in his used armor, beaten out from its former user’s wear, and he unsheathed his sword to face his opponent. When the handkerchief was dropped, you were as stunned as his fellow competitor and the crowd by his swiftness. You’d never seen anyone move so fast, and in at least twenty pounds of armor.

The crowd awoke from their awe and cheered as his sword beat against the other man’s suit with tinks and tunks. It was like a bell, ding, ding, ding. It wasn’t until the other man was on his knees that the spar was ceased. Peter was declared the plain winner and sent on to wait for his next engagement. May wiped away tears of joy and Benjamin grumbled his approval.

You smiled, just a little. You were happy for Peter. You’d seen how joyful he was, he was likely dancing behind the curtain right now.

🏰

It wasn’t until the second round that Lord Barnes was introduced. He walked out fully armoured like any other combatant but his left arm was permanently bent, a shield strapped to it as he gripped his pommel in his right hand. He showed his steel and faced his match. He dealt hard and heavy blows until his opponent was on his back.

You shuddered at his unboasting victory as he wasn’t even patient enough to hear himself declared the winner. You touched your cold cheeks and puffed into the bitter air. The bodies around you warmed the stands but you were chilled to the core.

Peter appeared again in the second, then the third, fourth, and to his aunt and uncle’s delight, he soldiered onto the final. To your fear, he was to meet Lord Barnes. You tried not to squirm, not to show how nervous you were for Peter. You thought of running down and begging him to withdraw but what could you say? If anything, you’d both be worse for it.

As the last two banners were presented to the crowd, you sensed movement to your right. A familiar head of blond hair approached and the tall duke pushed past the row of people along the bench. Lord Rogers smirked as he came close, his sweaty hair drooping down his forehead from his last bout, the one he’d lost to his closest friend.

“Ah, I found you,” he said, “lady.”

You felt May peek past you and you gave a meek “my lord” as he stood close. He looked around you at the older couple.

“You have friends,” he stated, “please, do introduce us.”

You looked down and chewed your lip. You turned slowly to May and Benjamin, the latter peering past her only as he was torn from his fixation on the field.

“Lord Benjamin and Lady May Parker, baron and baroness,” you rubbed your hands together nervously, “Lord Steven Rogers, duke of Astrens.”

“Oh, we’ve heard of him,” May chirped, “my lord, it is an honour.”

“Indeed,” Benjamin agreed, “my lady, you did not inform of us of your lofty friends.”

“She is modest,” Rogers intoned, “we met by chance, really, through a common acquaintance.”

“You were skillful on the field, it is a pity you were bested,” May said.

“Very pitiful, I did put some gold on you, Lord Rogers,” Benjamin added, “alas it was a fine showing.”

“Wasn’t it?” he turned to stand with his arm pressed to yours, much too close for your liking, “however this one should be intriguing.”

“It’s our boy,” Benjamin said, “and your friend, my lord.”

“Perhaps you’d take another bet?” Rogers countered.

“I’ve lost enough this day,” Benjamin snorted, “I’d rather watch and be pleasantly surprised than paupered.”

“Prudence is wise but always so boring,” Rogers mused.

As the lower of the lords, Parker was announced first and you were saved from more uncomfortable banter by the man in grey. Rogers nudged you and bent as the introductions went long as the man with cone went into detail about the day’s fights all the way to the present match.

“I did look fine out there, didn’t I?” he whispered, “good form, even if I did lose. Barnes is in a mood and we both know that makes him… unpredictable.”

You lowered your head, “my lord.”

“You are quiet since last we met,” he remarked, “perhaps your thoughts linger on how else to use your mouth?”

You squirmed and stared at the competitors as they awaited their signal. Rogers laughed and stood straight as he focused on the field in kind. He played with your sleeve and tugged your arm down. He caressed the back of your hand and stepped even closer.

“When he wins, he might just be cheerful enough to share in his celebrations, hmm?” he said under his breath.

The gold cloth was dropped and the two men circled each other, eyeing their opponent cautiously. Barnes was the first to act but was evaded by the younger man. He didn’t not falter however as he swung again. Peter rolled under the strike and met it with his own steel, batting it away so that it nearly struck its holder.

Barnes dodged that time, then the boy spun again. They danced around each other, both swift, both calculating, both determined. Steel met steel but never that which clothed the fighters. May grabbed your other wrist as she held her breath.

Barnes laid a hit across Peter’s chestplate that made him stagger but he turned it into another lithe evasion. He snaked around the higher lord and hammered his false arm. The shield cracked in half and Peter ducked again.

Barnes was angry as he stabbed out. His blade was shoved away again and Peter jumped over the foot that tried to trip him up, a true achievement in armor.

You realised as Barnes laid a flurry of blows at the air that he was angry. The crowd silenced as the realisation fell over them and they watched as time seemed to slow. The duke was losing and he was enraged.

Peter jabbed the other man’s chest plated with his sword then hit his true arm. The sword bobbled in Barnes’ grip but he regained his hold on it. Too slow as Parker struck over and over, throwing him off balance, and sweeping him off his feet with a low lunge.

As Barnes clattered onto his back, the breath went out of him and every other person in the stadium. The man in grey shook away his shock and finally stepped forward.

“Our victor!” he grabbed Peter’s arm and raised it, “the Lord Parker!”

May hopped up and down and hugged her husband. Steve tutted and shook his head. Your eyes clung to Barnes as he sat up, forgotten in the dirt. His left arm was stuck at an angle away from his body and he reached up to force it back down.

Peter offered him his hand and was ignored. Barnes sheathed his sword and offered a curt bow before he exited. Rogers’ hand crawled up your arm and he gripped you. “Well, looks like we both will suffer his loss.”

For once, he spoke the truth.

[vechkinfan]

Jack

A/n: I found this little one shot while I was looking through the deep dark depths of my google docs the other day and figured I might as well share it. Its a young Joker fic, and my fist time writing for the joker so please take it easy on me!😁

Pairing: Joker x OFC

Summary: A brief glimpse into the Jokers past, memories that he would rather keep buried, memories that reminded him of someone that held his heart. A heart that now burned for Gotham's reckoning.

Warnings: Talks of abuse, swearing, angst, vague talk of death

Jack found himself climbing the dirty, half rotten stairs of his apartment building. The light bulbs on every other floor, blown out or stolen, casting a darkness over him as he made his way up. 

His mother had one of her 'friends' as she liked to call them, over. So he made himself scarce for the afternoon, like he always managed to. Jack weaseled his way out of the apartment when those creeps were over. Especially the ones who would come right in and give him those looks. Those perverted sideways eyes when his mother was too plastered to notice any different. Looks that sent a piercing shiver across his whole body, and an uneasiness to settle in his gut.  He much preferred the men who would come over and pretended like he didn't exist. 

The sun had long since started to sink in the sky  as he climbed the stairs towards home and Jack knew he had to make it before the streetlights in the narrows started to flicker. The evil in his apartment was one thing, but the evils that lurched about once all the sunlight was extinguished in the sky was much more frightening. 

Rounding the last flight of stairs, his eyes landed on a girl  sitting at the top of them. Her back pressed against the door jam of the closest apartment door.  One foot stretched out in front of her blocking his path and the other bent, shaking vigorously on the next step down. 

She was sucking on a red popsicle, as her fingers drummed against the skin of her knee that poked free from a hole in her ratty jeans. 

Jack knew she just moved in a few months back, but he never crossed paths with her before now. However every time he opened the door to let in one of his mothers 'friends', she would be sitting at the top of those stairs. Usually a pack of playing cards in her hands, flicking them one by one, aimlessly down to the next landing. 

"What flavor is that?" Jack asked, curious at what her voice would sound like. He'd been intrigued by her presence the moment he saw her all those weeks ago. 

Pulling the half melted popsicle from her mouth, the girl turned her head slightly to gaze towards him. Her dark brown hair in a curly mess that covered half of her face, but not enough for Jack to miss the darkness of her left eye. It almost appeared black, the deep brown of her iris engulfing her pupil, giving her a truly ominous appearance. 

"Cherry." She answered, her voice nothing what he expected. It held a delicate raspiness, nowhere near the point where it matched Ms. Emerson two floors up who had been smoking 3 packs a day since the depression. There was a softness to it though, one that made Jack want to hear more from her.  "You live in the apartment cross from me don't you?" 

Nodding his head, Jack shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "Sure do." 

She sat in silence after that, and he stood a few stairs below quietly staring at her. His feet shuffling against the creaky old floor board, wondering if this would be the end of their talk. Perhaps it'd be the last time they spoke at all. Jack knew the Narrows had people shuffling around from place to place, like one of them scam shell games. She very well could be gone by morning. 

 "I can bring you one next time…. If you want?" Swinging her leg around, she sat so she was facing him. Both feet planted one step down as she licked the red sugary liquid that was starting to drip down the wooden popsicle stick and onto the top of her hand. 

"I got two left in the freezer." Her voice was soft and held a nervousness that made fighting off a sly grin for Jack very difficult.  

"Yeah, I'd like that." Hustling up the stairs, Jack found himself sitting down beside her. 

His eyes getting a better glance at the girl, in the low light of the stairwell. Now he could tell she was using her hair to hide the right side of her face. Her right eye was an awful shade of purple, and the lid swollen so badly Jack knew she must be having a hard time seeing. 

As he let his eyes pan across her face, he noticed her lip that was stained with cherry popsicle was also busted open. The girl next to him seemed to have come from a similar home as himself. It was near luck that Jack hadn't gotten his ass handed to him by one of his mother friends in a while. Talking back was a habit that he couldn't quit no matter how much he was beaten for it. Not to mention the fit of laughter that usually escaped his thin lips as a belt or a fist swung in his direction didn't help either. 

"You got a name?" He asked, finally dragging his eyes back to meet her dark gaze. 

"Billy." 

Furrowing his brow and giving his head a subtle tilt, he wondered if she was fucking with him.

"That's a boy's name." He puffed out a small laugh. However the girl beside him didn't react at all. 

"I know, you don't gotta remind me." She shrugged her shoulders, before finishing off the popsicle and throwing the wood stick down the stairs. 

"It's  your nickname right?" Jack couldn't quite stop himself with the questions. Usually he kept to himself and avoided people, but she…  there was just something  different about her. Something that drew Jack in like a moth to a flame. 

He knew his interest was purely the result of her moving directly across the hall and appearing to be close to his age, if she had moved three flights up and was a little frilly girl, Jack was sure he wouldn't have even batted an eyelash in her direction as he carried on home. 

Shaking her head and rolling her eye, she was the one to laugh now. "No, my momma lost her first baby, who was a boy when he was real little. She ain't been right in the head since." Jack watched as she picked at the frayed edge of the side pocket of her faded army green vest while she spoke. "So when she found out she was having me, she just knew I was a boy. The doctors told her different, but she didn't really care what they thought. So she named me Billy." 

Shoving her hands into her vest pockets now, she quickly pulled out her deck of cards and began to shuffle them absentmindedly. 

"Billy's not a bad name, I mean there was Billy the kid that robbed banks in the old west right? Like some badass cowboy outlaw… Maybe one day I could live up to that name." Jack's eyes watched as she expertly flipped the cards against themselves, the loud noise filling the hallway. 

"Hate to break it to you, Billy the kid never robbed banks. He's just known for murdering people."

Peering up at him from the corner of her eye, her posture deflated, "Oh…." Billy sighed. 

They sat there in silence after that, Jack feeling some form of regret telling her about Billy the kid. The girl had seemed thrilled in her blissful unawareness, so happy with only a shared name that connected the two. Which was utterly ridiculous, and in any other circumstance Jack would have enjoyed watching the girls dreams come crashing down from the clouds. However it was like a small light had been snuffed inside of her and Jack hated that he caused that. Which blew his mind, cause why would he care about some girl he just met and her no good thoughts. She'd be gone in a few weeks, out of his life for good! The narrows would swallow her up just like it did the other kids, and he really shouldn't have cared. But he did on some level, and it fucking bothered him. 

"Billy where the fuck you at, you little piece of shit?" An angry voice screamed from just beyond the door she had been leaning against. The abruptness caused the girl to flinch and drop the stack of cards she was holding. 

They fell like dominos down the stairs, fluttering off in all sorts of directions. Making a fucking mess. 

Jack watched as she threw herself off the steps and down the stairs chasing after all the playing cards. "Fuck I'm gonna be in so much trouble." She muttered to herself as she frantically began the daunting task. 

Without much thought, Jack did something that surprised himself again. He stood up and grabbed a few of the cards that had fallen towards the top of the stairs. Bunching them together in his hand, before looking down at the Ace of hearts that was face up. The corner dog-eared like a well read book, from constant use probably. 

"I said where the fuck you at girl." A man ripped the door open to her apartment, and stumbled out. The stench of bad tequila filling the air almost immediately.

"I-im I'm sorry I…" Billy stuttered out as she crawled on the ground grabbing the last of the cards.  Her hands trembled bad enough that Jack could tell from where he stood that she was terrified. 

Eyeing the man cautiously, Jack saw him take a step closer to the edge of the stairs. His arm raised slightly, fingers twitching, ready to strike her hard when she finally made her way back to him. 

"Sorry, I tripped into Billy while I was coming down the steps. Made her drop her cards." Jack lied with a laugh, and held up the few in his hands. "I was just helping her pick them up." 

The drunken slob of a man, took a steadying breath, probably knowing he couldn't pummel a kid that wasn't his own. The man's overtly round face, covered in a patchy beard and a badly trimmed mustache that had the remnants of cheese puffs littered throughout it, gave Jack a nasty look. His lip turned up in pure disgust. 

"Yeah well watch where you fucking walk next time." He flicked his hand at Jack, and then turned his attention to Billy. Who was now standing up straight at the bottom of the landing, cards in hand. "You, " He pointed at her with a chubby accusatory finger, "pick up your goddamn mess and get in the house, and don't make me fucking tell you again." 

Jack watched as the man turned ungracefully on his heel and stumbled back from the pit in which he came. Slamming the door behind him with such power, some of the cracked plaster on the ceiling fell to the floor.

"You didn't have to lie." 

"I know." He heard her take a few hesitant steps up, until she was standing side by side with himself. "I ain't in the mood to watch an ass kicking at the moment." He couldn't stop the tiny laugh that escaped him at his own humorless joke. 

Tilting his head towards Billy, he finally held out the few cards that he managed to collect. She greedily took them back into her possession, and Jack watched as the girl seemed to be counting them to herself. Her fingers flipping past each number making sure they were all accounted for. 

"Thank you." Her voice was softer than anything Jack had ever heard as she finished what she was doing and tucked the cards back into her vest pocket. 

"He hit you a lot?" Jack asked aloud, as the girl pushed past him and towards her apartment door. 

Shrugging her shoulders, Billy nodded her head. "Not as much as my real dad did, so I'm lucky enough. I know some kids got it worse than me, so I'm not complaining."

"Lucky?" He quirked a brow at her choice of words. Luck was nowhere to be seen in the Narrows, especially not in that girls apartment. 

Perhaps the girl had been struck in the head so many times it actually made her dense. It wouldn't be a surprise to him if that was the case, because no one, and he meant no one, would ever call themselves lucky with the life she seemingly led. 

"You got to believe in something, right?" She smirked. "Luck seems more plausible than some god or a superhero saving me. Plus I got this." Reaching back into her pocket the girl drew out a single card, and quickly flicked it over to him.

Jack caught it and huffed an amused laugh. His eyes falling upon the joker card that belonged to her deck. The jester was skillfully juggling three knives while he balanced with one foot on a large green and purple circus ball. The character itself was off putting, his face painted white, his lips smudged with red paint  that made his maniacal grin even more pronounced. His jester hat constructed out of oddly colored rattlesnakes, multiple wrapped around one another to give its iconic shape. Their rattling tails hung as the bells at the tips. It was clearly far from the typical playing card one could get at the Bodega down the block. 

"It's my lucky card, bad things don't happen as often when I have it on me." 

Jack couldn't help but continue to stare at it. The wheels in his mind spun endlessly with hundreds of questions, but he knew he'd never have time to get them answered. She was on borrowed time as it was, and he didn't want to hold her up further. Cause if he did, the girl probably wouldn't be able to see at all next time he ran into her. The guy inside, smashing her other eye to the point it was swelled shut as well. 

Looking up into her eyes, Jack attempted to hand it back. But Billy just shook her head at him. 

"You keep it, it's the least I can do after you saved my ass. Maybe it will bring you some luck." She smiled at him before turning and opening her apartment door making her exit. 

"If you give me this, won't your luck be gone?" His words stopped her in her tracks. But all Jack could focus on was her soft laughter.

Without turning to face him, she pulled another card free from her pocket, twisting it expertly between two fingers so the face of it was in Jack's direction. An inverted match to the very card that he held in his hands. "There's always two jokers." 

Just as quick as she pulled it free, Billy shoved it back into her pocket, "See you around." She chuckled before disappearing into her apartment. Leaving Jack alone in the stairwell, staring quizzically at the place the girl once was. His lip twitching up in amusement, before he shook his head clear of their encounter. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

The joker cracked an eye open as he startled awake. It was a rare occurrence in recent years that his dreams would startle him out of sleep. That was only reserved for a specific time in his life, and that was not now anymore. 

His half sleep blurred vision instantly focused on the ever growing water stain that was spreading across the ceiling tiles. It's dark brownish edges tainting the once white paint, giving the already run down room a greater sense of abandonment. 

His hand stretched out wantingly, his long fingers gripping into the cool sheets of the spot next to him. The spot that had been vacant for many years now. An emptiness that slowly consumed him in absolute sorrow, and then engulfed him in a burning rage, no one could ever put out. 

It was a pain that radiated through the Joker like a poison when his mind traveled to her. Pleading for him to remember, remember a time when things were pleasant. When she was by his side, and in his bed, places he could keep her safe. 

But he couldn't, the day Gotham took her from him was the day its reckoning started. They would all pay, every last one of them.

[gojos-sidepiece-69]

Tokyo Tech Training- Chapter 2

Your eyes snapped open and you met eyes with your lover from last night. Fuck. Did that actually happen? It shouldn’t have. Damn it. No, god, no. I got drunk and had an insane fever dream, that’s it. Your brain worked in overdrive trying to rationalize your decisions from last night. Intense waves of shame and guilt washed over you when you realized that you were, indeed, practically sober.

You woke up with no headache. Your hips, however, were a different story altogether. “Morning, sunshine,” your dimpled teacher said intoxicatingly. It was too early for his bullshit. “Please, Gojo. Not now. I’m going to go home and pretend this didn’t happen, okay? Great.” His grin widened as he pointed out, “Oh, so we’re on name-to-name basis now? I thought I was still your Sensei.”

You ignored him and firmly got up only to catch a glance of yourself in a full body mirror. You saw purple peeking out at you from under Gojo’s shirt. You pulled it down slightly and felt at your raw, sore love bites. “Sorry about those, I always like it a bit rough,” Gojo explained, still shamelessly man-spreading in his bed. “I could tell,” you deadpanned. You lifted up the hem of your shirt to inspect the degree of damage he had done to your hips, and it was bad. You could barely even walk straight. You were planning on a pleasant walk-of-shame home, but seeing the state of your condition, that was now out of question. As if he read your mind, he said “I’ll give you a ride back.”

You got a sneak peak into the Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer’s morning routine, which included putting on his dumb blindfold and dark navy uniform. He handed you your clothes from the previous night, taking extra care to comment about how he was upset he didn’t get to see you in your “cute little lacy bra.” Everyone had left earlier that morning, knowing from previous experience not to wake Gojo in the morning. In addition, they didn’t want to take their chances while their airhead of a teacher took the steering wheel, blasting trap music way too damn early. You, however, had the treat of experiencing this first-hand. “All aboard!” He said childishly as you stepped into his black BMW. He immediately turned the volume of his music all the way up, humming to Pick it Up by Famous Dex.

You closed your eyes, and muttered a silent prayer that you wouldn’t die in a freak accident on the way home. With your luck, Gojo would crash straight through a KFC Drive-Thru and laugh about it.

You were shaken out of this scary afterthought when you realized that Gojo was driving 65 MPH in a 35 zone. “What the hell? Slow down!” You yelled, but your driver only looked at you and laughed. “You didn’t have a problem with me going fast last night.” You gritted your teeth. Of course he was going to make your drive home as sarcastic and filled with as many horrible sex jokes as possible. The worst part was that you, at the back of your mind, were fighting back a small laugh. But you weren’t about to confirm that he was funny. So you slowly exhaled through your nose, until your breath hitched at the back of your throat.

Gojo’s hand had snuck past the gear and onto your knee. Keeping his (inexplicably blindfolded) eyes on the road, it slowly snaked up to your thigh and rested there. He could feel you tense up and smiled to himself. He loved the effect that even just his hands had on women. The sensation gave you flashbacks of the night before. He touched a bruise on your inner thigh that he had licked and sucked so tenderly last night, and you shuddered. He drew small circles, but didn’t go any further.

The tires screeched to a halt right outside Tokyo Tech, and you clambered out of his car as fast as you could. You left in such a rush that you dropped your “cute, lacy bra” on the passenger-side floor. You didn’t even notice. Luckily it was Sunday, and you wouldn’t have to worry about seeing your teacher until tomorrow. “Have a great day!” He yelled after you, and you flipped him off classily without so much as a backwards glance for your superior. As soon as you got to your dorm, you dramatically collapsed onto the mattress.

You were so tired from fooling around the entire day yesterday that you slept through Sunday in its entirety. You arose early Monday morning and groaned when you remembered that it was going to be your first Field Training day. And you were absolutely correct in thinking that you were most definitely not ready.

“Each of you will be assigned a Jujutsu Sorcerer to shadow for your field practice today. Watch how they exorcise curses, take mental notes, and follow each of their directions carefully. Megumi and Nobara, you’ll be going with Nanami. Yuji and Y/n, you’re stuck with me,” Gojo said, keeping eye contact with you for an uncomfortably long amount of time. You thought to yourself, I might as well just start calling it blindfold-contact, if I can’t see his gorgeous eyes. I mean, eyes. Gojo whistled and led you and Yuji back to his black car. Yuji ran like the track-star he was, yelling “SHOTGUN!” so loudly that you didn’t care to argue.

He threw the door open and leaped into the passenger seat, while Gojo took the wheel and you occupied the backseat. Yuji took the liberty of connecting to the aux, this time blasting Tetris by Derek King. Once again, it was way too early in the morning to be listening to songs about ass. But this issue did not seem to exist for the Tokyo Tech’s favorite resident ass men, Yuji and Gojo. Or as you liked to call them, Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumb-ass.

Not even a comfortable minute into the drive, Yuji energetically bent over and picked up your forgotten bra. “Ooh, looks like Gojo Sensei is getting some! Who’s the unlucky girl?” Yuji joked around. “Oh, Gojo. GOJO,” the pink-haired puppy-boy fake moaned like an animal in pain while poking fun at his teacher. Your sensei, ever the enabler of horrible jokes, chuckled along. He glanced up into the rear view mirror and made eye contact with you, breaking it as soon as he swerved into the wrong lane. “At least tell me what she looked like!” Yuji practically bursted at the seams. Gojo sighed and offered a single comment to his student that was enough to temporarily stave off his curiosity and shut him up. “She had a great ass.”

You heard a genuinely amazed “Wow!” from your fellow first-year as blush once again danced onto your cheeks. You broke the car’s mounting tension by piping up and asking, “So where are we actually going?” Gojo explained that their Field Practice entailed an actual mission to retrieve one of Sukuna’s fingers. What the hell? You thought to yourself. You had barely one day of instruction and you were being thrown into the deep end already? Jesus Christ. But somewhere deep inside your mind, you knew that Gojo cared for his students and would never let any of them get hurt.

Rudely interrupting your thoughts for the millionth time, Gojo interjected, “But we’re stopping by the bakery first. I need my morning fix.” Your stomach grumbled at the thought of food just as you remembered you hadn’t eaten yet today. With one shitty parallel-parking job, you had arrived right outside the Ichiban Pan bakery. The three of you filed into the bakery, the bell on the door ringing as the sweet aromas supplied you with some much-needed serotonin. You walked up to the counter, and immediately noticed how beautiful the cashier was. She had long, dark hair and a figure that anyone would drool over.

To your surprise, she said, “Gojo...back here already? I knew you hadn’t had enough of me yet,” as she eyed him lustfully. “Of course I had to come back for seconds. Your goods were just so...soft and sweet,” he smiled coyly as he leaned onto the counter and shamelessly flirted back. The woman reached over and toyed with Gojo’s blindfold as his smile grew. She said, “So, when are we going to have some more fun?” He answered, “Always so eager, huh? Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn soon.” You couldn’t tell if your face was heating up with annoyance at the thought of Gojo delaying the mission to flirt with one of his girls, or at the fact that you felt...jealous. Jealous that you weren’t the only one he had eyes for, and envious that this girl was older and maybe even more attractive than you. She made you feel plain in more ways than one, and your mind started to wander.

Did Gojo touch her like how he touched me? How many girls has he had before? How many is he with right now? Damn it. You shook off the bothersome thought. Maybe it was your innate competitiveness as a Jujutsu Sorcerer, but you knew you had to get him back. Fair and square. You told yourself it wasn’t because you wanted more from him, but it was because you wanted to make him feel jealous in the exact same way. Whatever it was, whenever the time would come, you were going to leave him frustrated.

Three delicious dangos and thirty minutes later, you found yourself at the site of the curse: a closed off mall. While you were now right outside of the car, you could feel the cursed energy radiating out from its epicenter. “There’s one unregistered first-grade curse that you need to extract Sukuna’s finger from. And I’m going to osbserve,” Gojo said while he sat on the hood of his car. “You’re going to what? I’ve barely had ANY training,” you sputtered angrily, but Yuji was already pulling your arm and dragging you towards the curse. Well, you thought to yourself. Might as well prove yourself a worthy comrade to Yuji and a promising student for...he didn’t matter right now. The two of you sprinted forward as Gojo lowered a dark veil over the area, blackening the sky.

Yuji shoved the front doors open and leapt inside, and you jumped in after him. The lights were broken and flickering, casting an eerie glow over the abandoned mall. The escalators were still running, but you could hear distant crashing sounds. “This way!” Yuji yelled, as the two of you sprinted up the escalator to the second floor. The crashing increased in volume, and it was clearly coming from a destroyed souvenir shop ahead.

You laid eyes on the grotesque curse, which resembled a deformed, melting, red plastic mannequin that was at least twice your height. Its arms immediately extended and shot out at you, but you dodged out of the way. You hadn’t learned any techniques yet, so it seemed like you and Yuji would be teaming up and harnessing your raw cursed energy to deliver blows to the mannequin. The curse opened its mouth to reveal jagged teeth that caged in one of Sukuna’s fingers. “There it is!” you shouted. But in an instant, both you and Yuji were caught off guard and knocked to your feet by the mannequin’s extended arms.

They grew spikes that jutted out and beat into your sides. You yelped and coughed in pain, starting to see blood pool out from under your uniform. You gritted your teeth and tried your best to deliver blows to sever the curse’s arms, but it was useless. Yuji, too, seemed trapped in between the sharp spikes. After ten minutes of intense stabbing pains and useless struggle against this first-grade curse, Yuji piped up. “I think I’m going to have to let Sukuna take over and destroy this curse.” Your eyes widened. You had only heard stories of the demon king, and they were all horrific. But it was between that and death, and you both made the split-second decision. “Do it,” you nodded.

You watched from your position as Yuji let Sukuna take over his body. Black tattoos etched their way across his toned body, which was exposed to you after he carelessly tore his tightening shirt off. His smile grew wide and you heard a malicious laugh. “Fool,” Sukuna said directly to the curse, before ripping its right arm off with brute force. “You think you’re any match for me?” Before its arm could regenerate, Sukuna tore off its other one and freed you before tossing you aside like a corpse while informing you that you were “in his way.” You hit your head against the front window of the store and groaned. You watched the mannequin open it’s mouth and shoot out it’s razor-sharp dagger teeth at Sukuna, but he just grabbed onto the curse’s head and tore it right off with ease.

He reached two fingers into the curse’s mouth and extracted the finger, examining it with a slight grin before swallowing it. “Feels so good,” he murmured while throwing his head back and laughing loudly. A wave of confusion washed over you. If the job was done, why hadn’t Yuji switched back yet? What was going on? You shivered and backed up slightly as Sukuna turned his head to look down at you.

“You know,” he drew out a breath as he kneeled down and picked up a scrap of cloth from Yuji’s torn shirt. “I haven’t taken over a vessel in ages. And that means I haven’t had a woman in a very,” he stepped closer to you, “Very long time.” You looked up at him from the ground, taking in his mouthwatering physique. This curse made you forget about logic for a minute and revert to primal instinct. The first thought that ran through your brain was running your tongue over his abs. However, a second later, you had an even better idea. Why not let Sukuna have his way with me? That would show Gojo. I want him to hear me moaning while he’s still sitting in his stupid BMW, blood rushing to his dick as he thinks about me getting fucked stupid by the undisputed king of curses. That thought alone was enough to push you to answer, “And what do you want me to do about that?”

“You’re going to do as I say. Let me fuck you until you can’t remember your own first name.” Your heat throbbed at that, and Sukuna wasted no time binding your hands together tightly with the scrap of cloth. This was really happening. You were about to get destroyed by the legendary Sukuna in the shattered storefront of a souvenir shop. In the dark. Without any semblance of a warning, Sukuna ripped your uniform top right off of your body, leaving behind only scraps of fabric. You shivered at the sensation of being exposed to the cold. You looked up at him wearing only your plain black bra and uniform skirt, and his eyelids lowered. “Fucking slut,” he said, as he ripped off your bra with the same fervor. He smiled hungrily as your nipples perked from the chills, and groped at your breasts with both hands.

He admired how they fit perfectly within his calloused hands, and how he could feel your heartbeat rapidly soar. With fear. Humans really are useless creatures, aren’t they? He thought before he demanded, “Open your mouth.” You complied, and he slid two long digits all the way inside. You felt one hit the back of your throat and you moaned onto his fingers as they slid back out. He rubbed his fingers back onto your breasts, coating them with the wetness of your own saliva. You moaned loudly with pleasure, positive that your pathetic Sensei could hear you from outside.

“That’s good.” Sukuna approved of your moaning. The thought of him making you arch your back, screaming and crying for him pushed him on further. His hands aggressively found your skirt, tearing it easier than paper. He looked down at your soaked panties and felt the urge to make you feel small and embarrassed. “You’ve gone and made a mess of yourself. I’ll just have to get rid of them,” you saw Sukuna’s tongue move around in his mouth as he forcefully tugged off your panties. His hunger got the best of him, and he bent down to let his tongue take one long lap along your dripping cunt. “Fuck,” he breathed as you threw your head back, hitting against the wall. “I haven’t tasted a woman in so long,” he said, before bending back down and slipping his tongue into your slit.

His strong arms kept your shaking legs pried wide open for him, sharp nails tightly gripping into your thighs, and you could only groan louder. He continued to drink at your slippery juices until you screamed and came into his mouth. He licked his lips as he pushed your thighs back together and lifted himself up. “I’m not even close to finished with you yet,” he growled, sensing you getting slightly tired.

He lifted you up and threw you onto your stomach. You propped yourself up shakily using your elbows while he pushed your head down with one of his hands. You arched your back for him, granting him an easier entrance. Kneeling behind you, he teased his dripping tip at your folds while squeezing at your ass. The buildup was almost too much for you to take, so you began to whine “Suku-,” but before you could finish, he entered you roughly. Sukuna mercilessly railed into your pussy from behind, one hand simultaneously gripping your hair and pushing your head down, while the other dug crescent-shaped nail marks into your hips.

His pace was so fast that you could only scream and curse and whine his name, but he only laughed and threw his head back. “Sl-slower,” you begged, tears spilling down your face, but Sukuna maintained his speed. Your useless request only prompted him to move his hand from your hair to your throat, gripping you tightly. “Don’t ask me that again,” he growled, still thrusting.

You could feel his thrusts become more loose and sporadic, and finally he pulled out and groaned deeply while spilling his cum all over your thighs. You panted and stood up slowly, but you held back a shocked scream. You watched in horror as Gojo Satoru stood before you, blindfolded eyes trailing over the white, creamy liquid dripping down your thighs. You instinctively covered your breasts and cunt, managing a weak, “how long were you watching?” Gojo took a step forward. “Well, I decide to assess the situation for myself when I heard you screaming for mercy, so I came in at about the time...” he mimed checking a fake watch, “a 1000-year-old curse started pounding you from behind.”

You blushed, heart racing from the exposure and accidental voyeurism. You hadn’t expected him to actually come see you for himself. However, your eyes took a quick trip to see a growing bulge in your Sensei’s pants. You smiled to yourself as you thought, mission accomplished.

🌹

[novemberandmay]

As She Falls

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Her wings pointed to the sky as she was pulled into Earth’s gravity. Her limbs were also pointed up, except for her head and torso. She watched as clouds passed her, the rough wind trying to crush her non-existent body into molecules. Even though she wasn’t in her physical body, she could still feel the wind? How weird. But she was uncaring of this, as she crashed into her hospital room. She could finally see how her body was, after all this time. She looked at it, finding her body looking pathetic. It was thin, overly thin, and covered in bandages. She was hooked up to so many machines, it was a miracle she was still alive. But while observing this, she heard the door in front of her open. Glancing up at it, she saw something surprising.

“Chloe? What are you doing here?” She asked, shocked. But she didn’t get an answer, since she didn’t have vocal cords or a way to voice her thoughts. Chloe stood in the door way, her expression pained. She started to mumble things, things that didn’t make sense. Chloe seemed crazy and possessed at that moment, but it didn’t matter to Marinette. She raised her hand to try and get Chloe’s attention but was covered in light. She was forced into the older girl’s body, into the girl’s very soul.

When she opened her eyes, the light had make her close them earlier, she was surprised to see a little girl in a hotel’s lobby. She was gripping a teddy bear, but seemed upset, maybe a tad sad. The girl stayed still for what seemed like days before she turned around and passed through Marinette. The girl stormed out of the room, tears leaving her angry expression. Marinette ran after the girl, finally recognizing her as Chloe. She found the girl again in a hotel room, where items around her seemed broken. Then a door sounded behind her and worried screams rang out. As this happened, everything warped and twirled, ‘til she saw  her Chloe, the teenaged Chloe. She was sitting on a couch, her expression somber. This time, though, she could see that Chloe was able to spot her. As she had glanced over at her.

“Chloe? What’s happening? Are you okay? Do I-?”

“How pathetic, Dupain-Cheng even haunts my dreams. Great.”

“What? This isn’t a dream Chloe! I’am really here, I’m fin-“ Chloe’s crazied laugh sprang out, startling Marinette.

“No need to lie, you illusion. I saw her dead body myself, I know she’s not alive. Not anymore.”

“But I’m fine Chloe! I’m just fi-“

“SHUT UP!” Chloe screamed, throwing a teacup at Marinette’s face. It hit her, causing blood to stream down her face. Chloe stormed up to her, her rage filled expression being the main focus. The blonde girl raised her finger up and pointed at her, her elbows bent.

“NOW YOU LISTEN HERE! MARINETTE IS DEAD. SH-she left me. SHE’S JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE! LEAVING ME AT THEIR BEST CONVENIENCE!! JUS-just like mama. She’s ju-just like her-r.” Her screams became stutters as her voice became pathetic. Marinette’s eyes softened and she reached her hands around Chloe, hugging her tightly. Chloe started to sob, falling to her knees, bring Marinette down with her.

“WH-why?! WHY am I noT ENOUGH?!?! WhY-“

It was hours before the emotions inside her seized, leaving her feeling empty.

“I’m sorry Chloe. I promise I won’t leave you again.”

“Y-you promise?”

“I promise Chloe. I swear that I will wake up and you won’t be alone.”

As they hugged tighter, everything went white.

She was suddenly transported back to the hotel room, where she was not alone. On the ground, holding her hand, was Jon. He was sobbing, and looked as if he would collapse into a coma soon.

“Oh Jon! What happened?”

There was no response as she looked over his shoulder, he just kept crying. She laid her hand on the boy’s shoulder, where the familiar bright light surrounded her.

This time, she was alone in a house. But there was noise some where, it sounded pained. She rushed around, opening doors left and right until she found the cause. Jon.

She found Jon huddled in a corner of a kid’s room, sniffling. Her face lost it’s tension, as she sat beside him. She was ready to hear his tale.

“Did you know I can always tell when someone lies to me? That everyone does it a lot? Even ma’ and pa’ lie to me. Only you and Dames don’t lie that much, at least not to me. You tell me when you can’t tell me something, you try to be honest. But now you’re gone. And now Damian lies. No one tells me anything true anymore...”

“But it’s fine. It’s just like before I knew Dames! I can handle it...I hope. I’m used to you both being honest, so I don’t know if I can handle it now. So much has changed, some much is different...why can’t it go back to before you jumped? Everything was okay then- I could fix it! I could help you, I could at least try. But reality doesn’t work that way, right? Yeah. So I can’t save you, I can only imagine that in my wildest fantasies. Did ya’ know I used to think of you and Dames as my parents for a bit? I know you aren’t, but I just wanted to imagine it. Having a mum that’s not running off to get the latest catch, one that comforts me. Having a pa’ that’s not off saving the world every 5 seconds, but is beside me, even if a little reluctantly. But who cares? I’m just being ungrateful! I mean- who else wouldn’t want Superman as their dad? And Lois Lane, the famous and renowned reporter, as their mom? If anyone else knew of my position, they would want it! So why? Why don’t I want to be their child? Why do I want to be normal? To not tell when someone’s lying? I know it’s wrong and I’m just being ungrateful, but-“

“Jon.”

“...”

“Listen to me. Nothings wrong with you. I would love to be your mum, and I’m glad you think that way. It’s not bad to feel this way. Your emotions are valid. You are valid. I love you, I love you so, so much. So please, don’t think this way. I’ll be your mom, I’ll be anyone you want me to be, okay? ‘Cus I love you. I love you like a mother would love their son.”

Marinette raises Jon’s hand to her chest, smiling at him.

“See? I’m not lying, am I? I promise to never lie to you, no matter what.”

Jon stares at her, tears gathering in his eyes. His mouth twitches, he looked pained, sad.

“MAMAAA!” He screamed at her, lunging at her. He gather her into a hug, sobbing. He cried, cried for hours. He wouldn’t let her go, as he collapsed on to her. He cried into her hair, as she pat his back. Marinette hugged him back, caring for him like a mother would.

“...thank you..” Jon mumbled. Marinette only smiled in return, watching as he faded away. She looked up and reached for the sky, a bright light covering her. It felt right. She felt happy.

Marinette appeared back in the hospital room, now with a new person.

‘Damian?’

He said nothing as he grabbed her human body’s hand. His face was remorseful and sorrowful, his scowl now including tears and forced look. He was holding back sadness, she could tell. She wouldn’t let this continue though, so she walked up to him. She stopped right beside him standing straight. She bent over, and reached for his shoulders. She gave him one last hug in this form, before zipping into his body, ready for her next conformation.

Taglist: @miraculous-ninja @rebecarojas07 @toodaloo-kangaroo @solangelo252  @neakco @dood-space @jjmjjktth  @animeweebgirl @nickristus-dreamer @talushi2002 @miraculouslydumb @stellar-star @myazael @crystalangelluna 

Notes: I know it’s a bit rushed, but I just had to finish the idea as soon as I thought it. Hope you liked it! The taglist is open, and prolly will always be, just so you know. I’ve had a great day today, I took my NWEA and made an amazing score, so I’m proud. So are my friends, like May. Anyways, I got off topic, have a nice day y’all! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it! Till next time! Buh-bye!

(DIDNT MEAN TO POST IT WHEN I DID, OOPS)

-November

[haloud]

things we could burn in one go (eminence) - chapter 9

also on ao3

Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Isabel Evans & Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Forrest Long/Alex Manes Additional Tags: post-s2, Canon Compliant, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Starts Forlex Ends Malex, Other Characters May Appear, Tags Subject to Update, Mutual Pining, Breaking Up, Getting Together

Chapter Summary: Michael and Isobel reckon with the fallout from Michael’s choices; Maria and Max catch up with him post-recovery.

Excerpt:

Maria sat on the steps, an old CD radio of Rosa’s beside her playing a classic Rosa mixtape, a Third Eye Blind track Michael only half-remembered flowing around her, her humming running under it, glittering minerals in a riverbed. She was surrounded by papers, pinned under painted rocks to keep them from being snatched away, her hair tied back by a rainbow scarf, and she bent over to write in a binder propped on her knees.

Michael rapped on the pillar behind him to get her attention, and when she looked up she smiled and set the binder aside.

“Guerin! You’re up! What brings you here with the sun in the sky?”

“Where else am I gonna go to get my sea legs back?”

“Well, come pull your ass into port and sit with me.”

She patted the low stair beside her and Michael did as he was told, swiping his hat off his head as he approached her. For her it was wordplay, but Michael cradled to his chest something more true than maybe she’d intended—Maria was a safe harbor, a port in a storm. No matter how bad things got, her warm heart and practical mind were a reminder to never give up. Just sitting beside her was enough to make him smile, even though he sat with a good six inches buffer between them, still unsure what boundaries were appropriate, still navigating the uncertain waters of being friends with an ex who meant something.

 (Wednesday, 11:00 am)

  Michael flipped Alex’s key over and over in his fingers, running it along his knuckles, pressing his thumb into the teeth until they left a locking-imprint on his skin, then doing it all over again. At some point, maybe it would start to feel real, if he reminded himself of the thing often enough.

The repetition and stimulation of the rough teeth, the cool, smooth metal, soothed him as he waited on Isobel’s porch. She’d called him here in the first place, so eventually she’d open the door. Until then, he waited. And as he waited, he thought of Alex, because what else was there to think about these days?

(A thousand things, like Jones and Project Shepherd, Max and Liz, and all the work piling up at Sanders’s, but Alex had a way of blotting everything else out, and, no matter how much his brain tried to get him to feel stupid or naïve or childish for hoping yet again, he was going to let himself bask in that shade for once in his life.)

He hadn’t left Alex’s house, still, except to go to work and get things from his own place. At Alex’s, he was still sleeping in the guest room, the both of them afraid that they’d fall back into their old patterns too fast if they fell right into bed. But during the day they shared that space, a kitchen, a den, existing alongside each other as they read or cooked or composed, and the routine wasn’t so different from the tense and quiet days right after Michael’s injury, but at the same time they were nothing alike, not when each tiny glance could mean so much, not when fingers on the soft rasp of turning pages were fingers he could touch, that could touch him.

Everything was different. It was terrifying, and exhilarating, brand new and nostalgic. It had only been a day; it had only been half their lifetimes.

“Ew, you’re glowing.”

Isobel’s voice started Michael out of his thoughts, and he jumped, shoving Alex’s key into his pocket. She was glaring at him, but still he relaxed, because Isobel’s snark was a form of love and her turning scorn in his direction was a sign things were getting back to normal between them.

“It’s all natural,” he drawled as she stepped aside to let him inside.

“Right. Did something happen, or is this just some lesser known side effect of being brought back from the brink of death.”

“Uh…”

In a way, sort of, if only because Michael’s own stupidity had driven him and Alex closer together, but that wasn’t exactly a direct correlation or anything admirable.

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p.’ “Just…”

He fell silent. How was he supposed to talk about being in love? He’d never done it before, and this was a first he hadn’t anticipated facing.

“Alex and I…” he tried again, but found himself only able to smile, still without words, and he raised his arms in a helpless shrug.

Isobel’s eyebrows raised. “Oh my god.”

“Yep.”

“I’m still pissed at you, but if Manes is making you his side chick after everything, I’m going to rip his spine out through his—”

“Isobel, no! It’s not like that,” Michael laughed, shaking his head.

“Well what’s it like, then? I cannot handle him breaking your heart again when we’re already dealing with Max.”

He replied, “My heart is fully intact,” as he headed in and dropped down on her couch, throwing a hand over his heart for dramatic effect. “No, uh, Alex and Forrest had a fight, which sucked, but it led to us getting a chance to talk more about, y’know, us, and what we wanted, and each other, so…”

“So this is rebound,” Isobel snipped.

“Can you stop?” Michael said, half-laughing. Even her pessimism on the subject of love couldn’t pop the bubble around his heart right now. He patted the couch beside him, and she hesitated for a few seconds with her arms crossed, before capitulating and joining him.

“Oh, fine,” she groused, leaning against the arm of the couch farthest away from where he was sitting. “Your funeral.”

The words landed like a lead balloon, and Michael winced as her face grew stormier.

“I’m—”

“Don’t,” Isobel held up a hand in his face. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Well, what do you want to hear?”

“An explanation, Michael! What the hell were you thinking? Why would you do that? What if he’d just straight up killed you, did you want us to find your body in a cave somewhere or, or never, blown to smithereens by a man who literally breathes fire! You’re so stupid, and selfish, and—” She cut herself off, furious tears welling in her eyes even as the rest of her face didn’t change.

“I know! I know, you’re right, it was stupid. I wasn’t thinking, or, well, I was thinking, but my head was all messed up.” He rested his forehead in his hands and running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t think any explanation is going to make any sense now, out of the moment, but I just…everything was going to shit, and I couldn’t do anything for Max, and I thought Jones might have answers, or could help me unlock new powers like you’ve done on your own. So I could protect everyone.”

Isobel threw her arms up and got to her feet, pacing around the couch; Michael tracked her, anxiety dipping and spiking every time she circled him. Her anger pulsing when she passed behind him made his skin crawl, and he shifted in his seat.

“I don’t even know what to say to that,” she finally spoke, stopping in front of him.

He kept his head bent forward, staring at his knees.

She continued, “I really don’t. I’ve been trying for twenty-one years, but I still don’t know how to get through to you. How to convince you that you’re not alone, that people want to protect you. To help you. But I’m not Max. I’ve never pushed or pried or fought to cling onto you when you shook us off. I just hung around because I knew you’d always come back.” She took a deep breath. Her voice stayed steady and deliberate. “But Michael, this has gone on for too long, and you went too far this time. You have to let us help you. Otherwise—I don’t know. I just don’t. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

Drops of water speckled the tops of Michael’s knees, and he sniffed, swallowed, mouth dry, throat tight and aching. His sister’s gentle hands threaded through his hair, cradling both temples, right hand over Max’s lingering handprint, but no matter how careful that touch was, he flinched.

Isobel tipped his head up so he had to look her in the eye and said, “You’re my brother, Michael. I love you so much. And I would do anything for you, just like you would—and have—do anything for me. But you need to let me! From here on out, I need you to fucking work with me. We’ll figure this out, okay?”

Tears trickling down his face and dripping from his chin, Michael nodded, not trusting his voice, and Isobel fell forward, his arms opening up to catch her, and they stayed like that for a long time, Michael rocking her back and forth, her clinging desperately to his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he finally croaked, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Or Max. I just, I can’t stop myself, sometimes, I know it’s not an excuse, I know it was stupid, I know—”

“I know,” she interrupted his stream of self-loathing, sitting back to look him seriously in the face. “I was in your head, remember?”

She’d found him beneath a vaulted ceiling, stained glass in shifting, alive, alien colors, walled in with his demons. Defining himself inside the devouring maelstrom by the battles he understood. His whole life, he’d sewed himself back whole, and his work wasn’t pretty, but the patterns made sense, and they kept him sane even when the odds demanded otherwise. The image flashed behind his eyes, but that’s all it was, an image. He shook his head.

“Not really.”

“Well. I didn’t really go snooping, no matter how tempting it was,” she said with a self-deprecating roll of her eyes. “But let’s just say…you don’t owe me any explanations you aren’t willing or ready to give. Those belong to you. I know I haven’t always understood that in the past. We both have things to work on, okay?”

“Okay,” Michael rasped, squeezing her tight again. “I…want to work on them with you.”

“Then it sounds like we’re going to be okay,” she softly replied.

(3:00 pm)

Isobel didn’t let him leave the house until both their eyes stopped being red and puffy from crying; It took multiple episodes of some Food Network show he’d never heard of before she agreed to let him out of her sight, and, in deeply un-Isobel-like fashion, she followed him to the door and pulled him into another hug for the road before she let him leave.

The drive from Isobel’s to the Wild Pony wasn’t really long enough to fully ruminate on how bad he must have scared Isobel to warrant this level of reaction. Logically, he’d known, but emotionally it was just beginning to sink in.

Over the past year, he’d been faced with losing Isobel and with losing Max multiple times—had lost Max, in fact. He knew how it felt. Why should the loss of himself be any different to them? In low moments, sure, thoughts shifted beneath the murk of his mind, lurking demons from childhood, that they didn’t need him, they had each other, a more special bond, he was the odd one out, outside, out in the cold. But on the day to day, he didn’t devalue himself like that, not in so many words, did he? But—

To be surprised? That Isobel was afraid, that Max was afraid, that the both of them stood on the precipice of grieving him and had to process the horror of that fall after snatching themselves back at the last minute? It was a slap in the face, a rude awakening. A lesson that for all these years he’d resisted learning.

The first step to protecting those who loved him was to protect himself. He couldn’t keep shelving it as the lowest priority. They were one and the same.

It sounded fake to his own ears, but he’d just have to say it until the lesson sunk in.

With the windows rolled down, the idle breeze tugged Michael’s hair across his face and cooled the late-summer stickiness from his skin. It was just after lunchtime, a little early for Max to be at work, but since he wasn’t at Isobel’s house, it was faster to check for him here than to drive all the way out to his own place.

If there was one positive to his near-death, it was the way Max was invigorated by a purpose. The healing drained him, of course it did; it could have killed him, and that weighed on Michael’s conscience, but afterward, after it worked and he’d pulled Michael back from death, he smiled. He slept. He bustled around Alex’s house babysitting Michael while Alex was at work, and now, with a little distance from fragile death, that didn’t chafe as badly.

Max deserved a better thanks than Michael had thus far been able to render, and with Isobel’s words still ringing in his ears, there was no better time than now.

He pulled up to the Pony, the fairy lights strung across the patio dancing in the wind, the wood of the old building all pale and real in the sunlight. The old, familiar sign above the door was off as long as the bar was closed, but Michael still took a moment to glance at it nice and long, remembering the feel of fixing it under his hands so the whole place felt less liminal, less like a mirror vision of the beating heart that was the Wild Pony glowing under the night sky, lit from within rather than from the sun.

Faint music played as Michael parked and left his truck, so he rounded the corner of the building to suss it out and smiled at what he saw, leaning against one of the trellis supports.

Maria sat on the steps, an old CD radio of Rosa’s beside her playing a classic Rosa mixtape, a Third Eye Blind track Michael only half-remembered flowing around her, her humming running under it, glittering minerals in a riverbed. She was surrounded by papers, pinned under painted rocks to keep them from being snatched away, her hair tied back by a rainbow scarf, and she bent over to write in a binder propped on her knees.

Michael rapped on the pillar behind him to get her attention, and when she looked up she smiled and set the binder aside.

“Guerin! You’re up! What brings you here with the sun in the sky?”

“Where else am I gonna go to get my sea legs back?”

“Well, come pull your ass into port and sit with me.”

She patted the low stair beside her and Michael did as he was told, swiping his hat off his head as he approached her. For her it was wordplay, but Michael cradled to his chest something more true than maybe she’d intended—Maria was a safe harbor, a port in a storm. No matter how bad things got, her warm heart and practical mind were a reminder to never give up. Just sitting beside her was enough to make him smile, even though he sat with a good six inches buffer between them, still unsure what boundaries were appropriate, still navigating the uncertain waters of being friends with an ex who meant something.

“What are you working on?” he asked.

“Oh, you know me.” She gestured vaguely to the arrangement of papers and tucked her feet up beside her, leaning toward Michael, cutting the space between them in half like it wasn’t worth noticing. Some of the tension in Michael’s chest unwound at her ease around him.

“Hustling?” he prompted.

“Yep. I’m just organizing the events I have planned for the upcoming season and making sure I have space set out for scheduling, details, budgeting, the works. High school me would die with envy; my system was never this good when I was trying to study.”

“I’m definitely impressed. Let me know if there’s anything I can help with, anything you need built, or an extra set of ‘hands’ for decorating.”

“How is that going?” she asked, brows furrowing.

“I’m still getting my strength back. Just gotta keep pushing through and hope whatever Jones did didn’t mess me up for good.”

“I’m sure he didn’t.”

Her hand extended but stopped before touching him, until he turned his hand palm-up, asking her to take it. She did, squeezing him.

“You’ll figure it out,” she said. “And the TK aside, have any of the other powers cropped up? The light, the teleporting? Those were the ones Alex told me about.”

“That’s all I remember, really. And no. I haven’t even tried, honestly.” He looked at their joined hands, her wrist bare of the pollen bracelet he’d promised her and wasted, thrown away like trash in a corner of Jones’s cave. This is blasphemy…

“Do you think you will? Try?” Maria asked, head tilted.

“I…hadn’t thought about it. Been focused on getting back to square one with the TK, but…”

Was doing more with his powers still an option? Was he willing to try, and fail, and fail again, without folding and submitting to all the voices in his head that told him every failure was proof positive of the erstwhile adage that he was worthless?

“Well, you have time,” Maria said, squeezing his hand again.

“What about you?” Michael asked. “Any visions?”

Her face shut down. She let go of his hand to smooth both hers down her knees then fold her arms around herself, turning her head away. “No. Still nothing. A few dreams, but it isn’t always easy to tell what’s a normal dream and what’s a vision, and with you out of the woods, the most dire ones are already Jossed.”

“What about Mimi?”

“Huh.” Maria pursed her lips for a second, then said, “I haven’t noticed any change in her? But I’ll have to ask and see what she says. I’m not even completely sure our powers work identically, with the things she’s said about being unstuck in time…I don’t always get that same feeling.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Michael promised her. “Even if it means having to go back to Jones and ask what he knows—”

“No!”

She wheeled on him and smacked his arm lightly.

“Absolutely not! Michael!”

“Not alone, obviously!” He defended.

“Not at all. Jesus Christ. I’ll tell Isobel you said that—I’ll tell Alex—”

“Maria, c’mon,” Michael whined, taking her hand again in an attempt to connect them and calm them both down. “I just don’t want to rule out that he’s meddling in more ways than we know. I still think he’s fucking with Max. You deserve answers, if that’s what’s going on.”

“Not at the cost of your life. Not ever. It could be a hundred other things, too. Stay away from him, Michael, I’m serious.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Good,” she said firmly, wrapping her arm around his again and leaning into him. He let out a long, slow breath as she relaxed.

“You know, in Jones’s cave…”

“Mm?”

Michael carefully encircled her wrist with his fingers. “I lost the bracelet I made for you. The backup one I promised.”

“Are you feeling guilty about that? Because please, don’t,” she replied, covering the hand on her wrist with her other. “That is the last thing on my mind.”

“But I—”

“Hush. I’m glad you had it with you, whatever happened to it. It’s good that you opted to protect yourself, even if it didn’t work.”

“I thought your powers were offline.”

“The visions, maybe. But I don’t need to see the future to read you, Guerin.”

“You are something else, DeLuca.”

“Oh, I’m aware.”

“Hey, Maria—oh! Michael!”

The two of them turned toward the backdoor at the sound of Max’s voice.

“Hey, Max,” Maria said. “Is the inventory finished?”

“Yeah, I was just coming to report back.”

“No need to be so formal,” she teased, standing up and brushing dust from the seat of her pants, looking at the papers around her with her hands on her hips. “I was hoping to get your opinion on some plans, Number One, but someone interrupted, so they’re not quite ready yet.”

“Guilty as charged,” Michael drawled.

Max reached out a hand, and Michael took it to humor him, letting him haul him to his feet.

“I’ll let you off the hook this time,” Maria said as she led the way back into the bar, cool and dim in the daylight. “You can sweep up to say you’re sorry.”

“My pleasure,” Michael said, reaching out a hand, hoping he could summon the broom as nonchalantly as he once could. It sat unresponsive until a spike of formless frustration zipped through him, at which point it flew to his hand fast and hard enough to sting his palm when he caught it. Great. Just what he needed right now—puberty flashbacks.

“I need to run,” Maria said, stowing her binder behind the bar. “Late lunch with Rosa. I’ll see you later, Max—Michael, it was so good to see you. Say hi to Alex for me, okay? I know you’re gonna see him before I do.”

She left with a wink while Michael was still pink and stammering. Maybe Alex had told her already—or maybe that was just Maria, putting him so at ease it was easy to forget how much she saw. His chest glowed so warm he couldn’t stop blushing at that casual acknowledgement, that easy validation, that he and Alex—that Alex and he were what they were to each other, now, again.

“Wait, is she talking about you staying over there, or does she mean—dude!” Max grinned ear to ear and bounded out from behind the bar to pull Michael into a back-slapping hug. “Congratulations!”

Old, brotherly habit had Michael squirming out of Max’s affections, but it didn’t dent his exuberance; he retaliated with a swipe through Michael’s hair, making him duck further out of range, huffing and laughing all at once as he tried to fix it again.

“Yeah, um, Forrest and Alex broke up, and then one thing led to another, so.”

“I’m really happy for you, man.”

“I—thanks. I’m…I’m really happy, too.”

The sudden urge to comfort Max gripped him, a strange survivor’s guilt that things would be working out for him and Alex and Max and Liz would still be so far apart. But it wasn’t his place to throw that in Max’s face now, so he bit his tongue and basked in Max’s honest happiness for him.

“Could you feel, uh, any of my emotions through the handprint?” Michael asked. He ran his hand through his hair over the spot on his temple where Jones had held him, erased by Max’s healing hands, then dropped it back to his side abruptly, flexing away the phantom stiffness that still plagued him, that probably always would. He gave it a shake as if to chase away nervous tingling.

“Nah. But it’s not like I’m looking; I respect your privacy, man.”

“’preciate that,” Michael snarked, and Max just shrugged.

“Any particular reason you ask? I don’t need to know what you and Alex are up to,” Max joked.

Michael considered his answer for a little bit as he made his way between the tables. After all, it wasn’t as if this was the first handprint Max had ever given him. The ones on his neck and hand cut off by his death aside, dozens of times over dozens of years, Max had practiced healing on him and they’d explored that connection. Michael was always the guinea pig; he never wanted for injuries to work on, after all.

But there’d been a lot of handprinting over the past year and change. Max felt something from Liz; Liz felt something from Noah; Rosa and Max had a connection strong enough to tether Max to the world of the living. And then there was Michael, with Jones’s voice in his ear, dripping condescending words about his lack of psychic ability being phenomenal, considering.

At various times in his life, Michael had looked up at the stars and wondered in the silence what it was in him that was irreparably broken.

“Just curious. It’s been a while, and all juiced up like I was, I was wondering if anything felt different.”

“Nothing different. Just you.”

Max smiled like that was a good thing, a comforting thing. And you know what? In between the adrenaline of change, good and bad, in between the rock of Project Shepherd and the hard place of Jones, on an afternoon in a closed bar, a home to both of them, alone with his brother, Michael let it be.

He cleared his throat. “Good. So there’s no…interference or anything? Nothing weird lurking around up there?”

“Not that I can tell; Isobel would probably know better than I would. Whatever he did to you was bizarre, man. It wasn’t like the way, uh, the way I’ve killed people before. Or the way Noah killed.”

“I don’t think he was just trying to kill me.”

Michael made his way over to a booth and beckoned Max over; he lingered over his work for a glance at the clock and then came and joined him.

He continued, “He kept going on about teaching and knowledge and this being the wrong way but the most efficient. He knew it would hurt me, but maybe it would have worked better if he did it to someone more, uh, receptive than me.”

“What are you talking about?” Max leaned over the table, brow furrowed. This close up, the dark circles below his eyes were more noticeable. “Michael, what he did to you wasn’t in any way your fault—”

“I know, I know, that’s not what I mean. Just…look, I saw the security footage from Caulfield, from the day of the Valenti incident. The way that alien approached Jim Valenti and put his hands on him was identical to what Jones did to me, and I think maybe that guy was just trying to communicate but it fucked up a human in a way he either couldn’t expect or was too out of it to realize. And, well,” Michael gestured to his own head. “I’m the most human of the three of us up here.”

“I…huh.” Max sat back and drummed his fingers on the tabletop as he processed that. “Well, whatever the case, it proved you and Isobel were right about him. He can’t be trusted. Nobody should have any more contact with him. We’ll start doing our monthly drop offs contactless until we all figure out what should be done with him.”

His voice was firm, businesslike. Traffic Stop Max was Michael’s least favorite version of his brother and he’d hoped that his turn to the civilian would’ve put that guy to rest, but he had a tendency to rear his head in a crisis.

But in this case, he saw through him, and that façade was hiding something.

“How do you feel about that?” Michael asked, leaning back and slouching, reflecting Max’s rigid body language the way he had for a decade, cops and robbers style.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel about it. He almost killed you; we’ll do what has to be done.”

“Uh, it definitely does matter. You’re the closest thing to a next of kin he’s got, as far as we know. If anyone gets to decide what happens to him, it’s you.”

“That’s what I’m doing.”

“Is it? ‘Cause, look, I know I fucked up a lot of stuff running off to Jones half-cocked like I did. I don’t want to set off a chain reaction of more bad mistakes that rips us apart again when we’re just startin’ to…” Michael trailed off with a self-conscious shrug. It was realer than he’d intended to get, but it was the root of the issue, wasn’t it?

Max’s face softened, and Michael slumped lower in the booth.

“You’re not. You won’t.”

“You’re just saying that—”

“Michael.”

That tone was always a coin flip if it’d get right under Michael’s skin or if it’d shut him up. It landed on the second one this time, to Michael’s relief.

Max said, “No chain reactions. What we were doing before wasn’t working, okay? I knew I wanted something from Jones, but I couldn’t bring myself to reach out and take it. All you did was force us to make a choice when I would’ve dug my heels in and not been able to for a long time otherwise.”

“The answers you’re looking for, though, you deserve to look for them if it’s what you need,” Michael forged on, battling his clumsy tongue. “I should’ve said that before. You deserve to know who you are and to learn who that is in whatever way you can. Everybody deserves that.”

“Thank you. I mean that. But I was getting so desperate—the things I was thinking of doing—I scared myself, okay? I didn’t think—I don’t think I am that person. And being this person I am right now and who I want to be right now is more important than any answers about the past, if that’s what it means to find them.”

Michael sat with that, looking Max up and down, sitting with his own feelings as much as Max’s words. Parsing his own reactions to Max was something he took steadier, more carefully than most other things in his life. It was a set of muscles he needed to practice with as much as he needed to get power back to his telekinesis.

“Okay, man. I respect that,” he said finally, leaning over the table to punch Max in the shoulder. Max made a face and rubbed that spot.

“Ow, man, thanks, I guess.”

“Damn, did I get you in your writing arm?”

“Try my drink-mixing arm. If I’m off tonight, I’m ratting you out to Maria.”

Michael let out a scandalized noise and slipped out of the booth.

“Where are you going?” Max laughed, dark eyes shining with life in a way Jones’s never could. For all they were identical, Michael barely saw the resemblance.

“To lay low, what do you think? You’re makin’ me a fugitive.”

“Uh huh. Good luck; you know she’s just going to ask Alex.”

“Damn it. The things I do for love.”

A smile on his own face as soon as he turned his back, Michael was almost at the door when Max called his name and he turned to face him again.

“Michael? Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Asking. Listening.”

Those two words held a lifetime of desperate loneliness between them, and Michael would be sitting with that, too, as long as he was holding it in his head, making it a conscious decision, to do right by his brother.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said.

“I wanted to,” Max replied simply.

“Well in that case…I guess you’re welcome.”

Michael’s phone buzzed in his pocket, not the single pulse of a text but the longer jangling of a phone call. He fished it out, smiling when he saw the name, and he didn’t even wait to get privacy from Max before answering.

“Alex—”

“Thank God. Where are you, Michael? Are you okay?”

“Alex? I’m fine, I’m at the Pony, what’s wrong—”

Max hurried to Michael’s side.

Alex repeated, “Thank god. Don’t come home, do you hear me? Do not come back to the house until I give you the all clear. Stay with Max and Maria.”

“What? No!”

But the line cut off midway through his protest, leaving him with nothing but the dial tone.

[mihidecet]

SBI d&d AU: Tommy (1)

Here it is! Tommy’s pov really put the hamster inside my brain in a splendid mood, so his story is currently split into two (might be three, depending on how much more I’m willing to indulge my craving for found family dynamics). I’m probably going to post the second part in a couple of weeks (I’m trying to stick to a schedule, but uni has started again today so who knows).

Thank you all for your likes, reblogs and comments on the last post, I really appreciate them!

Also, as some of you might already know, I’ve been working on character sheets for all of them too. I’m working on the written backgrounds at the moment, but if all goes right I should post the first one next week! Who would you want to see first: Techno, Phil, Tommy or Wilbur?

[Also I should mention, there are a handful of swears, mentions of blood and a not-so-quick description of a dagger, but not as it’s being used for anything bad. Let me know if you’d like me to highlight anything specific to make it easier to skip.]

You should kneel down soon, kiddo. The voice in his head tells him. Usually one would not have voices suggesting what to do or do not, but that was the life of Tommy since he'd agreed to eat a bloody apple and suddenly gained horns and a tail. That was just something that happened to him nowadays. But again, one was not necessarily made to follow said suggestions: he usually either ignored whatever had been said or sassed back - that was just the kind of relationship he had with his patron.

I'm not a child, old man. He answered, in his mind in order to avoid Wilbur's curious glances, and only heard a distorted chuckle in response.

I'm just trying to help you out! You should, totally, profit is guaranteed! Tommy rolled his eyes, huffing out in annoyance at both his insistence and the warped voice he was currently talking in. Go figure that, of all the demons he could have made a pact with, Tommy had chosen the most annoyingly nagging one. Who even used their godlike power to change their voices to unnatural pitches?

Come on, Tommy! Trust me on this! Come oon! The dragged out "on" was extremely aggravating, but just because his patron was bored he wasn't going to amuse him. He had more important things to do, like planning out what to do once they'd reached the apparently haunted mansion in the middle of a forest they were heading towards. If one was to ask Tommy, he'd say that it was just the job of a bunch of thieves, maybe an enchanter, using the abandoned mansion as a base of operations and scaring away wandering people. Everyone had seemed to agree with his idea - hell, even Wilbur had said it had been a good hunch!

Five ... Four ... Didn't he have some other poor soul to torture? Some unlucky fellow to trick into a deal? And was the echoey voice necessary? Did he really need to sound as if he was shouting from inside a cave?

Come on kiddo- Three ... Two ... Almost there! One ...

"ALRIGHT!" Tommy yelled out, stomping his foot down in anger, flames bursting out his hands as his eyes flashed golden and - despite what his stubbornness told him - he bent down.

He hadn't even fully bent his knees when an arrow lodged itself into his hood, which was slightly raised in respect to his head due to the quickness with which he had moved.

"Ohshit-"

"Who the fuck is attacking us?" Techno asked over him, tone impassible and as monotone as always, holding another arrow just in front of his face; he seemed more bothered by the thought that someone was trying to attack them than the fact that somebody had shot an arrow at him.

You're welcome, kid. His patron quipped, finally in his normal voice, before retreating to the back of his mind as Tommy summoned energy between his hands, ready to blast into nothingness whoever had been dumb enough to try to kill him.

Tommy wakes up one morning, and the first thing he sees is the sky. This is because, since he agreed to sell his soul for instant magical powers, he has a distinctively cumbersome pair of horns, which prevent him from sleeping on his side comfortably. A small price to pay, since honestly, who even has the time to spend years studying when you can just shake hands, eat an apple and be set for life?

Since they've stopped being a couple of stubby nubs on the side of his head, he also has to wear a pair of muffs over them, in order to avoid destroying his pillow in case he moves more than an inch while he sleeps. He's gathered enough evidence of how much damage he's able to cause to last a lifetime, so he endures Techno's chuckles at his hand-knitted, sock-looking muffs - damn Wilbur for using wool, it's not like his horns ever get cold.

Anyhow. The first thing he sees, is the sky. The second thing he sees is a knife sticking out of the ground next to his head.

Tommy stares at it, figuring he's either still dreaming or his patron has gotten better at his dream-messages - on top of annoying him during the day and giving him advices once every blue moon, he also enjoys sending him extremely cryptic messages through dreams, which Tommy usually forgets by the time he's awake.

He figures it has to be a dream, because sticking out of the ground next to his head is a perfectly clean and sharpened Technoblade Dagger. Thin, sleek, made in a peculiar metal that looks completely black at all time, as if it was capable of absorbing light. Rumors say it was forged with the core of a fallen star; others say it's made of the blood of his fallen enemies which Tommy finds extremely disgusting and definitely unpractical. The handle is simple, with no added leather - Technoblade always says that leather stains easily and is more a bother than anything actually useful.

But the thing is, that's not all.

Tied to the knife is also a string of white, orange and red strings. A small onyx bead is woven inside.

Aww, look! You got yourself- the voice in his head starts, but Tommy is quick to put a stop to it.

Shut up, this is important. He states, tone firm and serious, just like he was when he demanded his pact a few years before. His patron and him joke around and annoy each other a lot, but he knows that tone, so for the next few moments everything is quiet. Around him, the only sound is of the wind, flowing through the leaves, and the crackling fire, courtesy of Phil, who is probably preparing breakfast for all if the delicious smell wafting over is any indication. Tommy hears everything and nothing around him, while all his attention is focused on 1) the token of friendship innocently sitting next to him 2) trying not to yell out at the pure joy he is feeling right now. This is approval. This is acceptance. This is the confirmation that he is, in all ways, part of this team.

I know, kid. I'm glad you found yourself some good friends.

Tommy huffs out a breath, unable to stop himself from smiling - he does not need his patron's approval, but it is still very much appreciated. The demon's helped him a lot, in his own weird demonic way.

The warlock snatches up both items and mutters an excuse as he quickly makes his way towards the river next to their camp.

The first thing he needs to do is find a good place to keep the bracelet.

The thing is, he can't keep it on his wrist. They get into too many nasty places, he is definitely *not* going to let it get soiled by dirt, blood or sewer water - Tommy also does not want to think about the sewers ever again, but that is a rather common and expected reaction. His ankle is also not a good choice, because of all the walking and trudging in the mud they do.

He's not going to keep it in his pack either, he want it close. He's sentimental about it, sue him.

Do not even start. He thinks intensely, anticipating what his patron could have said about his previous thought, but he gets no answer. Whatever. It's better that way.

His arm, he figures, could be the best choice. The bracelet seems to be long enough for him to be able to tie it around his upper arm, and that way his shirt would keep it covered constantly. Not to mention, his cloak also rests over that area. It would be safe and sound, and nobody would be none the wiser!

Tommy sits down by the river and starts working on it: he struggles a bit with actually tying the knot to keep it in place, but after a couple of minutes he's sure it will hold.

Then, satisfied with his work, he stands up and tries to throw the knife in the air and catch it. He does end up letting out a small yelp and letting it tumble to the ground, but he's sure he'll be able to pull it off in time.

"Technoblade!" He calls out loudly, coming back to the round space they decided to call a camp for a night. The thief doesn't even look up, but he does let out a questioning "hmm?" as his ears twitch up.

"Thank you for the wonderful gift! I'll use it wisely!" Tommy exclaims, pointing the dagger straight at his face. Techno turns towards him, nonplussed, and stares at him through the dagger. A moment passes, then Techno raises an eyebrow and moves the point of the blade away from his face with his index finger.

"Great. How about you start by remembering not to point it at allies?"

"Pfft, of course, of course! It was merely a display of how much I'm already able to use it! I bet I could even defeat you, now!" He declares, turning towards Phil's already ready breakfast and digging in, ignoring Techno's rebuttal of him needing to train for many more years in order to have a chance at defeating him, and most importantly Phil's amused and endeared expression.

The druid can read him too well: he already knows. For what Tommy knows, being an elf he probably has a way of seeing the bracelet under his sleeves from like, the way the material bends around it.

But as he scarfs down his food, he's already hatching a plan. Because while he wants to flaunt his newly gained social status, he does also want to keep this ... for himself. This isn't something he wants to share with the world. The fact that he went from being an annoyingly persistent kid to a friend of Technoblade is a personal success. It's just ... His.

What he can do, instead, is brag about having one of Technoblade's daggers. And what if he exaggerates a bit on how he got it? Who's going to correct him and say that it was actually just a mean to deliver to him a friendship bracelet?

Nobody, that's who.

Of course, he needs just one test to make sure it's going to work. It takes some time, but they eventually reach a small town. Wilbur takes care of securing a room for them all, and a discount in exchange for him performing.

Then, one late evening, they're waiting for their food to be delivered at their table, and Tommy is idly playing with Techno's dagger - he has now gotten extremely better at it, and can now not only flip it in air, but also balance it on the tip of his finger.

A bulky man with a coarse looking mustache brings them their dinner, and eyes Tommy as he keeps playing.

He meets his eyes, and his plan falls into place.

"Did you know, good sir, that this is one of the infamous Technoblade's daggers? My prize for besting him in a duel."

Next to him, Wilbur chokes on his beer and spits it all over his fresh loaf of bread. Phil is laughing as he pats his back, and the bartender eyes him suspiciously, apparently ticked off by his teammates's reactions.

"Is that right?"

"Absolutely! Isn't it, Techno?"

Everyone falls silent - except for Wil, who keeps coughing up beer for a while longer - and turns towards Techno, who seems startled at the sudden amount of eyes on him. This is it, the moment of truth. Everything comes down to what Techno answers now, because this could either be Tommy's best, most glorious moment, or a simply rather awkward instance. A moment passes, then-

"Absolutely." Techno's monotone voice answers, and the suspicion on the bartender's face changes to surprise, then impressed respect as he nods towards Tommy.

"Good job, kid." He says, then leaves their table, and Tommy couldn't be happier.

The game is on.

[chris-evans-indian-fanfic]

Love

One-Shot

Description: Asexual!Bucky thinks he is broken beyond repair, until you show him that he has been complete all this while.

Warnings: Angst, bad language, mention of sex toys, romance and fluff

@jtargaryen18 organised a writing challenge for reaching 4k followers and of course I have to participate multiple times! 😍 I am sorry this entry is a little late 🙈

My Main Masterlist

A/N: This is the first time I am writing an asexual character. Whatever I have written is based upon my knowledge that I have gathered by reading various articles and posts on asexuality. The reason I am writing this is because I want to have an equal amount of straight and LGBTQ+ stories in my masterlist, so that there's something for everyone to enjoy. Hence, if you are an asexual person or know someone who is, and you realise that anything in my story is incorrectly represented, then please let me know. I will immediately correct it, issue an apology and accept my mistake publicly. 

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but Tumblr and AO3, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

…

"I cannot fucking believe this!" Karen shouted, "What are you like gay or something?"

Bucky winced at her venomous words. "You need to leave," he said in a quiet, respectful tone.

"Like hell I am going to leave. I want answers!" she placed her hands on her hips and stomped her foot. "What is it? Am I not sexy enough for you? Are you not attracted by this?!" she gestured towards the skimpy lingerie currently hugging her body.

Bucky met her eyes as he responded, "I do not want to have sex with you." 

She huffed, clearly not convinced, "Why not? We have been going out for what, 3 months now? And you still don't want to have sex with me? What is the issue here? Is it-" she paused suddenly, her eyes traveling down his torso to his crotch, "You can't get it up can you?" she sneered.

Bucky shook his head, too exhausted to deal with her, "Karen, it's nothing like that. I just do not want to get physical with you. That's all."

"Oh! Ooooohh!" she bent backwards a bit, "So it was fine to hug me, cuddle with me and hold my hands. But when it comes to sex, you suddenly become a pious celibate saint! What the fuck Bucky?"

Bucky sighed, and handed Karen back her coat, "We are done. Please leave."

She laughed dryly, "Oh abso-fucking-lutely we are done. You know what I think?" she asked while wearing the coat, "I think that you are too old grandpa and that your tiny ass tortured gay dick cannot salute on its own. Because no man in his right mind would deny this," she again pointed to herself. "Super-soldier my ass," she muttered as she left.

The door to his apartment closed with a loud bang, leaving an echo in its wake. Bucky stood still, rooted to his spot. If it were not for the silent tears rolling down his cheeks, anybody could have mistaken him for a statue. 

Slowly, he sat on the floor, his gentle sobs rocking his body as he hugged his knees. 

Decades of torture by the hands of Hydra had left him crippled, physically, mentally and emotionally. When he had been saved by Steve, he had started to piece his life back together, bit by bit. Things such as books, movies, music became tiny jigsaw pieces that slowly filled the void in his life. 

After the final galactic battle with Thanos, Bucky had been officially initiated to the Avengers team, or rather what was left of it. The team soon became an extended family, a family that Bucky was still getting used to. It was especially irksome when Sam and Scott decided to set him up on a date with Karen from Research & Development (R&D), despite his protests.

It wasn't that Bucky didn't desire a relationship. He wanted to be close to someone, experience romance, feel their heartbeat in a close embrace and place light kisses on their forehead. 

But he didn't want to have sex.

At first, he thought he might not have met the right woman. So he searched for porn online, which did little to sway his feelings. He put the issue on a backburner, the safety of the people and the urgency of his missions steering the wheel of his life for a while. 

But when Sam and Scott proudly announced their grand plans for Bucky's date, he remembered his "issue" again. He looked at Karen closely whenever they went on dates together. She looked perfect. Beautiful hair, soft glowing skin, curves in all the right places, all packed in a graceful, slender body.

Bucky liked being close to her, but he was still not getting aroused. Hence, he stopped her advancements everytime she tried to get physical. Karen tolerated it for a while, before her patience wore out tonight.

As the sun rose in the sky, Bucky was still seated on the floor, his cheeks now stained with tears that had stopped sometime in the night, though a sniff escaped from him every few minutes. He looked at the sunlight pouring in from the window, broken by the window-panes, landing at his feet in two rays with a comforting warmth. It was in that moment that Bucky realised, Hydra had truly broken him.

🏳️‍🌈

"We have various types of dildos available. There's The Classic, Textured, Long and Thin, Short and Thick, Vibrators, Transparent Plexiglass Dildos, Strap-Ons, G-Spot Dildos, Double-Ended, Squirting Dildos and ones that also come with a suction grip. Are you looking for yourself or are you looking for something to enjoy with your partner?" the helpful saleswoman asked you.

You stroked your chin in thought, "It's only for me. I already have a vibrator that I bought about a year back. The G-Spot ones have never really worked for me. I am looking to try something new. What is the suction grip one?" 

The attendant handed you the dildo and showed you the suction grip at the end of it, "You can use this to place and stick it on any flat surface you want, whether it's the floor or the wall or the side of your desk. It guarantees a completely hands-free pleasurable experience."

You stuck it on the wall besides the showcase to test the theory. It worked. "Neat! I will take this one," you smiled as the attendant went to fetch a fresh piece.

You paid for your new sex toy and walked back to the Avengers compound with your small white shopping bag in tow.

When you reached your desk, you heard Karen bitching as usual about something to Jessica. At first, you blocked them out like you did almost everyday, but then a name in their conversation caught your attention.

"He's the Winter Soldier alright. He's completely frozen down there," Karen whispered loudly with disgust. 

"Even that red sexy lingerie didn't do anything for him?" Jessica gasped dramatically.

"No!"

"That's crazy! That hot-red piece will convert even the most gayest of the guys! And it didn't do anything for him? Wow," Jessica responded.

Karen added, "You know something? I have always thought he was extremely weird. Like, dude, I know you were tortured by Hydra or whatever, but get over it man! It's been years since he was free. He should enjoy life and stop being such a wimp. I am 100% sure he is impotent."

"You know I was digging into him the other night," Jessica said in a hushed whisper, "and I saw a message board online which suggested that his penis has been completely cut by Hydra. This person knows all such secrets about these alleged superheros. You should follow him."

"What is his username?"

"Proud-Flat-Earther-MotherFuckers. Wait, I will send you the link," Jessica offered. 

Having heard enough of their nonsense, you made your way towards the HR department. Maybe both Karen and Jessica had forgotten, but talking about the personal lives of Avengers was strictly against the rules and was considered as reason enough to fire employees. 

You filed a complaint with the HR and within a few hours, both the women were fired on the spot. You savored the moment with relish, as their faces turned aghast at the realisation that their actions had consequences. You went up to them, watching the pair clean their desks, with unabashed glee. 

"You know something Karen?" you asked her, "Just because a man refuses to have sex, it didn't mean that he's a wimp, or gay or an impotent. But if you do choose to think of him that way, then it surely makes you a sexiest and a homophobic person."

Karen looked at you furiously, "You bitch! I lost my job because you went and blabbed in front of the HR!"

You chuckled at her outburst, "Oh my dearest Karen. Yes I did go and rat you out to the HR. But that's not what got the two of you fired."

"Then what did?" Jessica asked as she joined the conversation. 

You folded your hands for effect, "Your hateful comments and toxic views cost you your jobs. People like you think that just by using the latest iPhone or following the latest trends, you are a modern, 21st century person. But in reality, it is your open mindset which makes you a member of the modern society. If you would open your mind just as much as you open your legs, trust me, the two of you will be much better off."

You turned to leave, but stopped yourself, "Just a suggestion. Stop using words like gay and impotent as insults. It will help you retain your next job for a longer time." You winked at their speechless faces, and happily returned to your desk. 

Your job in R&D was taxing and so, you always found yourself working late. Today was no exception either. As you left your office at around 8pm, you saw Bucky heading towards the elevator which led to his apartment. You always had a soft spot for the brunette super-soldier. For starters, you couldn't even begin to comprehend the tortures he must have endured in his past. And the fact that he was trying to piece his life back together again? It was truly commendable.

He always kept to himself, his eyes downcast and his body language unsure. And after what you had heard today, you felt even more sorry for the guy. Turning towards the cafeteria, you picked up a box of vanilla-strawberry French macarons for him, thanking the heavens above for the free food available at the Avengers compound. You held the white bag with macarons in your left hand, being mindful of not confusing it with the similar white bag in your right which contained your new sex toy. 

A few moments later, you found yourself in front of his apartment. You had visited him twice before to adjust his vibranium arm or to sort out a few tweaks, but never before had you visited him so late in the evening. 

You knocked, feeling a little hesitant as you did so. He was surprised to find you standing on the opposite of the door, however, he still greeted you courteously nonetheless. 

Before you could state your reason for the visit, he said sincerely, "I heard what you did today. Thank you. I really appreciated it."

Now it was your turn to be surprised, "Oh. Ummm. It's okay really Mr Barnes. It was nothing. You don't need to-"

"No. It wasn't just nothing. You could have turned a deaf ear and ignored them. Yet you chose to stand-up for me. Thank you," a small smile laced his face and you melted on the spot.

You had a crush on Bucky. A BIG one. Could anyone blame you? This guy was a hot, sexy mess of an ice-cream sundae that left you hungry for more even on the coldest nights of the year. 

You realised you were staring into his steel-blue eyes like a creep, and immediately cleared your throat. "What-what they did was wrong. Karen had no right to demean you for your desires or lack of them. I-," you sighed, "I am sorry for what she said. It was disrespectful and hurtful. So I brought you something that I hope will cheer you up."

You awkwardly raised your right hand, "I got you some vanilla-strawberry macarons from the cafeteria."

Bucky did cheer up a bit at the mention of his favourite food. He eagerly took the bag with a huge smile, "Thank you," he said once again as you shook your head. "Thank you for everything you do to keep us safe Mr Barnes. I must be on my way now. Goodnight," and with that you left, grinning like an idiot.

🏳️‍🌈

You took a bath, ate your dinner and slipped into comfortable pyjamas. Excited to try your new sex toy tonight, you unpacked the bag expecting to see the nondescript box of the dildo. Instead, 5 delicious macarons stared back at you with innocence. 

You stumbled backwards in shock, the impact of your action settling like a dull, heavy weight in your stomach. "Oh no no no no," you whispered, horrified.

You immediately rushed to your window and pulled aside the curtain to look at Bucky's building, as if expecting to see him staring daggers at you. One of the privileges of working with the Avengers? You got to stay in a nice apartment within the compound itself. Your residential complex was a little further away from the main building, covered easily by 15 minutes of walking. 

Feeling hyper, you frantically searched for a coat and almost ran out of your house. You rushed back in to keep the box in the bag and again, dashed towards the elevator. 

Hoping that Bucky would have yet to open the box, you sent a silent prayer to all the gods and goddesses in the skies above, even Thor. Meh, you never know when an ex-Avenger could be of help.

You sprinted towards the other building, a multitude of thoughts clouding your mind- What if he was offended by it? Would he file a complaint against me? It would be sorta ironic if I was fired for this! Shit he would think my apology was false and I am probably mocking him.

You reached his apartment, a panting, huffing mess of a person. You knocked frantically, his door shaking with force at your desperation. However, you jumped as Bucky whispered your name from behind you, "Are you okay? What's going on?" he asked with concern as you turned around to face him.

"Did-did you op-open the bo-ox?" you questioned him while panting like a dog. 

He furrowed his brows in response, "No I was planning to open it in a few minutes. Please tell me what's going on. Why do you look so scared?"

You bent over double, your stomach cramping thanks to your impromptu running, "Thi-this is your bag," you held up the package, "That ba-bag is mine."

"Okay," Bucky said slowly, still unsure of your behaviour, "Should I open the door to retrieve your bag?"

You nodded as he stepped aside, "Why are you not wearing any shoes?"

You looked down at your feet at his query, small blades of grass had stuck to your naked feet along with dirt. "I was in a hur-hurry to get to you," you managed to say between your breaths.

Bucky just nodded in response. It was then that you noticed the pack of paper tissues in his hand. He opened the door and stepped inside, beckoning you to follow him. He pointed to the white bag kept on the table while he looked at it with worry. "Will it explode?" he solicited.

"Uhh no," you replied awkwardly.

"Is it dangerous?" curiosity etched on Bucky's face as you swapped the bags.

"No, it's nothing like that," you looked down at your feet, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks with embarrassment.

He narrowed his eyes, "Then what is it?"

"I can't tell you," you quietly admitted, "but here are your macarons. I am really sorry for this. Didn't mean to disturb you from whatever you had planned," you pointed to the box of tissues still in his hand. 

Bucky noticed the underlying question in your statement, "I was about to watch a movie. So needed these to clear the mess."

Your eyes went wide at his sincerity. While you had a crush on him, you definitely did not want to know about Bucky's late night masturbation adventures. Shaking your head, you raised your hands and started walking backwards, "I am sorry I disturbed your nightly… activities. I get out of your hair."

"Actually, would you like to join me for the movie?" Bucky asked hopefully, "We have the macarons and you seem like you need to calm your nerves."

You were surprised for the third time that day. Did Bucky just ask you to masturbate with him? Or have sex while eating the macarons? Or did he want to eat them after you guys have had sex? A flurry of questions swirled in your mind as you stared at him with a slightly open mouth. 

Bucky interpreted your gaze and stumbled to clarify himself, "As friends! Would you like to watch a movie with me as a friend?"

You slowly nodded your affirmation, "Yeah okay. Which movie are we watching?" 

"The Notebook," he revealed with a smile, "It's an extremely emotional movie. Ummm what's the term? Tear-jerker? Uhh yeah, it's a real tear-jerker of a movie."

"Oh so that's why…" you pointed at the tissues. "Yeah," he confirmed, "I tend to cry a lot while watching that movie. And… ummm… I am the kind of person who cries ugly. You know, all tears and snot. So yeah… I need the whole box."

"That's… that's actually sweet," you smiled, "Trust me you are not alone. I start crying as soon as the titles appear on the screen."

He got excited at your confession, "Yes! Exactly! It's because you know what's going to come and you are just mentally preparing yourself."

You chuckled with him in affirmation as he led you further into his apartment.

You freshened up a bit in his washroom, making sure to clean your feet and the residue on your face from the sweat.

Bucky was standing besides your bag when you entered the living room, "Now that we are friends," he intoned, "will you please tell me what's inside of this?"

You sighed, "Mr Barnes-." 

"Bucky," he corrected you and you smiled. 

"Will you promise me you will not take any offense or be insulted by it? I really did not mean to swap the bags."

"I trust you," Bucky said with assurance.

"It's…it is a sex toy," you mumbled quietly. Any normal human wouldn't have heard you, but Bucky's enhanced hearing caught your words flawlessly. 

He took a moment to process your words, and finally, to your amazement, burst out laughing. 

You sheepishly smiled at his reaction as your heart felt a little lighter. "That is embarrassing," he agreed with a wide grin. 

The two of you settled on the couch as Bucky's chuckles lessened. He kept the box of macarons between you two, but hesitated to begin the movie.

You sensed his curiosity, and clarified, "I haven't been in a relationship in a very long time. It's been… 2 years I guess… since my last breakup." You took a deep breath, "And my job doesn't exactly leave a lot of time on my hands for dating or one-night-stands."

Bucky seemed to consider your words for what felt like a long time. Finally, he asked quietly, "What does it feel like? To… to want another person… sexually?"

You blinked your eyes, thinking you must have misheard him. But then, his gaze met yours, and you knew his question was sincere.

"It feels like…," you raked your mind in search for the appropriate words, "...like your entire body is on fire, and you need the touch of the other person to quench your thirst. Like, just for a few moments, you want to shut your mind, and let your body think for you."

Bucky nodded slowly as you finished, "But what if you feel that in your heart? And not for your body?"

You squint your eyes at his question, "What do you mean Bucky?"

He placed his head in his hands, "I just… I don't feel like that with anyone. I mean, I don't want to have sex. Trust me I have tried everything. Literally everything. Still I don't feel aroused… I am broken, aren't I? Because this is abnormal, right? No matter how hard I try I will never be normal."

Your heart shattered at his words. You had heard about his horrid nightmares, but to think that he was struggling to accept himself, thinking that he was broken, even when he had so much love to give, was depressing. You could not just stand by and watch.

Gently, you placed a hand on his shoulder, "Bucky, look at me." When he didn't comply, you urged him, "Bucky, you are not broken. It is completely normal to not have any sexual desires."

"No it's not," he scoffed.

"Yes it is," you coerced him, "Do you know what is asexuality? It is the complete absence of sexual desires. Many people-"

He interrupted you, "There is no such thing. You are making this up."

"I am not," you replied indignantly, "Research indicates that more than 1% of the American population is asexual. Also, experts believe that more people might be asexuals because they think that they "haven't found the right person yet"," you ended with air quotes.

With no reaction from him, you sighed and got up, "Do yourself a favour. Use the internet and learn about asexuality. It will help put your mind at ease." You left after giving that piece of advice.

Bucky stayed in the same position for a few moments after your departure. He nibbled on a macaron as he considered the movie playing in front of him. Unable to focus, he promptly shut it all and carried the box to his bed. The macarons disappeared into his mouth as he tossed and turned, feeling restless. 

There was no way asexuality was a thing. If it was, then how come there were no movies, tv shows or even advertisements on asexuality? That's because it wasn't normal, right? Maybe you had just lied to him to make him feel better? Maybe you took pity on him?

He looked at his phone on the table near the tv set, your final words repeating in his head in a loop. The combination of tiredness and laziness encouraged him to take your advice in the morning.

🏳️‍🌈

You didn't see Bucky for 3 days after your fateful encounter with him. The fact that you still had your job at the Avengers Tower meant that he hadn't filed a complaint yet with the HR. And for that you were grateful. Friday came and you found yourself working late, again. It was around 10pm and you were still in your lab, almost done with the work. That's when you heard the small swoosh of the lab doors opening and closing.

You looked up from your table, and found Bucky staring intently at you with his blue eyes. He cleared his throat and tentatively took a step towards you. "You were right," he said slowly, "I researched online, read a few articles and spoke with the in-house therapist. I am an," he took a deep breath, "an asexual."

You closed your laptop and smiled at his confession, "How are you feeling now?"

"Honestly? A little bit better. I feel somewhat free," he admitted while gripping the white bag in his hand a little bit tighter.

"That's great! I am so proud of the progress you have made," you beamed at him, but sensed his hesitance as you neared him.

"What's wrong?" you gently inquired.

"You are… not… I mean… by any chance… asexual?" he winced at his own question.

You chuckled lightly, "No I am not."

"Ahh, then it's okay," he murmured and turned as if to leave.

You stopped him by placing a hand on his firm bicep, "What's going on?"

He shifted on his feet, visibly uncomfortable and anxious, "I was just… no nevermind it's stupid."

"Bucky," you said his name in a stern voice.

He sighed again, "I thought… I mean I owe you a movie because… of that night… and so… you know… would you like to watch it? The movie? But why would you? You deserve better… you are not an asexual. You are normal. Why would you want to go on a date with me?" he finally ended his mumbling.

You looked at him with squinted eyes, trying to decipher what he had muttered. "Did you just say you would like to go on a date with me? But it was stupid because you are an asexual and I am normal?" you blinked as he nodded.

"Who told you that you are not normal?" you asked him, a little irritated, "Bucky look at me." This time he complied, "You. Are. Normal. As normal as me, as the other Avengers or as anybody else in the world. Do not, for even one goddamn second, think that there's something wrong with you because there isn't. Are you listening to me? Am I clear?" you wagged your forefinger at him.

Amused at your outburst, he nodded with a sheepish grin. Clearing his throat, he asked you again, "Would you like to watch a movie with me tomorrow? As a date?"

You placed your hands on your waist, "Yes."

His grin widened as he asked you the next question, "Still mad at me?"

"Uh-huh."

"Maybe these cupcakes will help," he shyly held up the white bag in front of you, "I made sure they were cupcakes," he added with a smirk.

You graciously accepted the bag, "Cupcakes will always help."

"Great! It's a date then. Tomorrow… at 4pm? My apartment?" Bucky suggested.

You agreed, and he left with a goodbye. As soon as he was out of sight, you opened the box, expecting to see the usual cupcakes inside. Instead, you found that the sweet treats were decorated with cute messages such as "U R Cute" , "Be Mine?" , "So Sweet" and so on. Feeling mushy at his adorable gesture, you bit into the sweet treat as you headed back to your apartment.

The next day, you made sure to wear a purple dress, complete with black, grey and white accessories - the colours of the asexual flag. Bucky beamed at you as he welcomed you into his apartment. He had made a snack mix from popcorn, crispy pretzels, chips and nachos, the perfect accompaniment to any movie according to him, and you couldn't agree more.

The pair of you watched The Notebook in silence, except for a few sobs and sniffs here and there and the straight up bawling during the emotional parts of the movie.

After a while, the film ended but your date continued. The two of you talked about everything, right from the meaningful discussions about the government policies to random questions like "which mythical creature would you be and why?"

Soon, it was time for you to head back to your apartment. Bucky offered to walk you and you happily agreed. But before you left, he asked you nervously, "Would you like to have a second date?"

"I would love to," you beamed, "Which movie should we watch the next time?"

He ran his hand in his somewhat disheveled hair, "Uhh… I actually made a date jar. Wait, I will get it."

He brought over a glass jar, filled with tiny bits of folded paper, "I thought we could have dates that start from each English alphabet. We can pick and choose at random from the jar."

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes again at his thoughtful and romantic gesture. You gingerly picked one note from the jar, excited for the adventure that awaited the two of you.

🏳️‍🌈

It took more than 2 years for the pair of you to finish every date in the date jar, except for one. Whether it was jet-skiing in the ocean, taking classes for flamenco dance, him teaching you self-defense or going on a wildlife safari together, you and Bucky finally got through it all. Only the letter "P" was now left.

In these 2 years, any distance between the two of you had practically vanished. Bucky was comfortable in removing his bionic arm in front of you. Moreover, he had started sharing everything with you. Right from his darkest and disturbing nightmares to a pretty butterfly that he may have seen during his missions, Bucky made it a point to ensure that you were a part of his life, and you had absolutely no complaints.

The two of you had also discussed about your sexual desires, and Bucky had been comfortable with you using your sex toys as and when you wished.

Bucky was the perfect boyfriend anybody could ask for. He was considerate, thoughtful, a hardcore feminist and gave the best foot-rubs in the world. And so you were nervous. Nervous because the two of you had never actually sat down to talk about the nature of your relationship. And as the day of the last date loomed nearer, your anxiety increased. At first, you thought of making a second date jar, but he had quickly dismissed the idea, stating that he would be caught up with multiple things after the last date ended.

As you sat in the car that Bucky had sent for you, your apprehension grew. Bucky always picked you up, however this time, he had asked you to come alone in the car. Maybe he wanted to break up with you?

By the time you reached the park it was pitch black. You were sure Bucky had paid the guards to keep the gates of the park open just for you.

As soon as you entered, you saw the pathway lined with 25 lamp posts, leading you towards a breathtaking archway decorated with fairy lights and your favourite flowers.

On every lamp post, a photograph of the two of you - which were taken on your dates - was stuck along with a note. The notes described how he fell in love with you over and over again on every single date. Your progress was slow, as read each of his meticulously written words with tears in your eyes. You collected all of his notes and the photographs, and finally headed towards the lit archway.

When you entered it, the instrumental notes of the song "All of Me" by John Legend reached your ears.

You walked ahead and reached a bend. Upon crossing it, you were showered with rose petals as the live music grew louder. And at the end of the archway, your boyfriend, James Buchanan Barnes, was standing in a tuxedo, looking as sinfully good as the forbidden fruit. The entire area around him was lit with soft fairy lights that cascaded gracefully between tall lamp posts. Even on the ground, small wooden lamps illuminated the grass across the area. A live band was playing the music and your Bucky was standing with the most gorgeous bouquet of red roses that you had ever seen.

Your vision turned blurry as you started crying, and looking at your tears, he started sobbing as well. "No no no I can't cry now," he managed to say between his sobs while giving you his handkerchief, "I have to do this."

He got down on one knee and took your hand in his. You both laughed as you started crying harder. He took a deep breath and said your name, "These 2 years have been the most magical years of my life. You have accepted me as who I am, what I am, and never once tried to change me or make fun of me for it. I never thought I would be treated with the amount of respect that-" he started crying, unable to finish his sentence.

You sat beside him and handed him your kerchief. "Yes," you said with a tear-stained smile.

"Let me ask you first!" he exclaimed between his sobs.

You laughed and wiped your snot as he cleared his throat, "I love you so much. You are the only one I want to-" he started crying again.

"Yes!" you answered his unsaid question.

"I haven't asked you yet!" he exclaimed again as the two of you giggled between your sobs.

"Okay c'mon Bucky you can do this," he muttered to himself as you beamed at him. "Okay," he looked into your eyes and whispered your name, "Will you do me the honour of marrying me and becoming my wife?"

You choked up at finally hearing the words. Rendered speechless, you could only nod as fresh tears escaped your eyes.

"You have to say yes!" he almost shouted with excitement.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!!" you matched his enthusiasm as he slipped a ring onto your finger. His large arms then engulfed you in a bear hug, wrapping you in a safe and secure space for eternity to come.

Permanent tag: @donutloverxo @notyourtypicalrose @just-one-ordinary-fangirl

Bucky taglist: @loustan90

Taglist open! Just comment, send an ask or message!

[wiypt-writes]

Riding On

Ch4: Full Steeb Ahead

Summary: Frank is determined to get Fliss to hear him out. But will she believe him?

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 3

People talk about the guy that’s waiting on a girl. There are no holes in his shoes but a big hole in his world.

 Frank woke early the next morning, well, maybe woke was an exaggeration seeing as he probably managed about an hour of straight sleep, if that. The rest was spent in small dozing periods of twenty, maybe thirty minutes at a time.  His neck was stiff from laying on the couch, as was his back and, deciding he would give up trying to get comfortable,  he sat up, stretching his muscles out before he ran a hand down his tired face.

It was still dark outside and he reached for his phone. It had just gone six, which meant he had an hour or so before the house started to wake. Standing up, he grabbed the shirt he had discarded the night before and shoving it on he located his sneakers. Once they were on his feet he grabbed his keys and as quietly as he could let himself out of the house, locking the door behind him as he headed down the little pathway which led to the main one through their little estate.

He walked down past the harbour and the little garages which were starting to open, nodding to a few of the guys he used to see knocking around when he had worked there, continuing past the little row of bait and tackle shops, past the small café, before he reached the path that led along the rocky sea defence. He followed the sandy pathway down to the boardwalk along the beach and continued for as long as he could, his feet treading over the well-worn wooden slats, some of which were loose in places, before it ended and he hit the soft sand. He headed onto the beach, it was almost deserted apart from a few early morning dog walkers, which suited him fine.

The ocean always calmed him. He had no idea why, but it had done ever since he was a kid. He’d adored those family holidays taken before it all went to rat shit, memories of him, his father and his sister playing on the sand whilst his mother read a book shaded by a parasol, every so often looking up to observe what was going on before returning back to whatever latest theory she was reading up on.  And then at night, they would eat with a family, late walks on the beach were always a treat, watching the dark water as it lapped against the shore, his dad making up random tales about Peg Legged Pirates searching for treasure which was always buried not far from where they were stood.

He’d done the same with Mary, telling her the same tales he could remember and making up new ones when he couldn’t. She didn’t buy them anymore, she was far too old for her age, but he couldn’t wait to tell them to Bean when he or she arrived, see their little face light up as they glanced over the ocean searching for ghostly ships or dug in the sand for imaginary treasure.

He reached the water’s edge and looked out at the horizon for a few minutes taking in the detail of the sky which was lit up in hues of purple and orange as the sun hovered a few meters or so above the place where the sea hit the sky and he took a deep breath, trying to calm his mind. He was in a mess, a mess that was entirely his own doing, and he felt utterly powerless to fix it. If he couldn’t get Fliss to listen to him…well, he didn’t even want to think about that. But the more he tried not to, the more he did. He couldn’t lose her, not over some stupid misunderstanding like this. Pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ease the tension headache that was already forming behind his eyes, not helped by the lack of sleep, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to re-centre himself. He finally had everything he hadn't even realised he needed and losing it was not an option. He had to fix this. With one last deep breath he turned to take the 15 minutes or so walk back home.

The house was still quiet when he got back in but he could hear the sounds of the shower meaning Fliss was up. He headed into the bedroom, Thor raising his head from where he was led on the bed, and he bent over to give the dog a scratch behind the ear. He pulled out a clean pair of jeans, a T-shirt and a pair of boxers, tossing them down on the pale blue bed covers, his head turning to face Fliss as she walked into the room, towel wrapped around her, hair piled in a messy bun on her head. His heart gave an instant pang as he took in how tired she looked, the guilt flooding over him as he knew it was his fault.

“Where did you go?” She asked him, her voice soft. “I heard the door.”

“For a walk, just to the beach. Needed some air.”

She looked at him for a moment before she nodded and moved to the dresser to pull out her clothes for the day.

“Can we talk?” He asked her tentatively and she stopped, straightening up before she looked at him.

“I told you last night, I’ve nothing to say.”

“No, but I have.” He pressed, “Lissy please…just hear me out, let me explain.”

She licked her lips and took a deep breath before she sighed “Fine, when Mary’s gone to school. But I have clients at nine and I need to pick Rupert up so I’m leaving here at eight-fifteen no later.”

“Ok.” He nodded, giving her a small smile before he headed into the bathroom for a shower.

Breakfast was a little subdued, but he had to give Fliss her credit. She was polite and civil to him, even if she wasn’t affectionate. But it didn’t fool Mary. She asked him as he walked her down to the bus stop what was going on, and not being one to lie to her, he told her truthfully that he’d been an idiot over the weekend and needed to apologise to Fliss. At that she shot him a filthy look.

“You better fix things or I will kill you and hate you forever.” She hissed before she turned and stormed towards the waiting bus.

You and me both, Short Stack.

When he got back Fliss was waiting for him like she said she would be, sat at the table. She looked at him as he sat on the seat at the end, so he was to her right and facing her. She glanced at her watch “You got 15 minutes.” “Lissy, those photos…” Frank dove straight in, he had no time to waste and even if he did, he didn’t want to. This was eating him up inside “I know they look bad…”

“No shit, Sherlock…”

“But I swear to you, nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened.” She repeated, looking at him and he shook his head.

“Nothing.”

“Then how the fuck did she end up on your knee, Frank?”

He took a deep breath “In all honestly I only know from what Simon and Greg told me.” He swallowed. “I was drunk, I’d already pushed her away earlier in the night and she came over with her friends, one of them was getting into one of the guys Jake works with and she just sat on my knee. Apparently it took me a while to realise but in the end I told her to get lost. I was quite rude to her, so they say.”

“You look fairly comfortable with her on your lap in the photo.” Fliss responded, looking down at her hand as she twirled her engagement ring round her finger, her voice quiet. The hurt in her tone made Frank feel even more like shit, as she wasn’t screaming or shouting which to be honest he was fairly sure he would have dealt with a whole lot better. “And in the other photo where you look like you’re about to kiss her.”

“Baby, I swear to you seconds after that I told her no. I’d just bumped into her and she was falling so I grabbed her to make sure she didn’t as that was the second time I’d nearly kno-“

“The second time?” Fliss looked at him and Frank closed his eyes, letting out a groan. “So you accidently nearly kissed her before.”

“No, that’s not-“ “Keep digging Frank, because that hole you’re in is getting deeper and deeper by the second.” she shook her head, looking away.

“I nearly knocked her over before.” he said, “Round the pool. I’d just finished talking to you, turned round and bumped straight into her.” “Right, and she just happened to be there in the club then after you ‘bumped’…” she framed the words with her fingers “…into her?”

“Again, full honestly, no, I don’t think she did.” He shook his head. “She was flirty with me. Made some comment or other when I said I’d watch where I was going about how she hoped not, and then we saw them on the Friday night too in one of the bars…”

Fliss looked at him and shook her head. “The irresistible Adler charm eh?” Her voice carried a note of sarcasm, and Frank shook his head.

“Honey, I’m just being honest here, telling you the truth. She was with a group on a 21st and I think they just saw a gang of guys and…” He shrugged “I dunno…they screwed Aaron, Chad and Jeff out of plenty of drinks so...” Fliss licked her lips and looked down, her hands fiddling with the now empty glass in her hands.

“Sweetheart, I get why you’re mad, I really do, and yeah, maybe I should have told her to fuck off sooner…”

“Maybe?” “Alright, not maybe, I should have but…I swear to God I didn’t kiss her, I didn’t sleep with her. Nothing happened.” He reached for her hand, his fingers gently squeezing hers “I love you, more than I can even begin to explain, and our Bean. I’d never do that to you, I don’t need anyone else and I certainly don’t want anyone else.”

She looked at him, then down at his hand which was over hers before she took a deep breath. Her head was a mash. Half of her wanted to believe him, his face and his words were so sincere and he’d never lied to her before, ever. But the other half…those damned photos. And either way, whether he had kissed her or not, he had been far too close, and she’d sat on his fucking knee long enough for someone to get a picture.

“You do believe me, right?” Frank asked, his eyes locking onto hers.

“Honestly?” she asked.

“Always.” He nodded.

“I don’t know what to believe…” she pulled her hand away and stood up, “I have to go. I’ll see you tonight.”

*****

“Hey Titch.” Steve greeted Fliss as she walked into the annex and instantly frowned when he saw her face “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She shrugged, not wanting to talk about what was happening anymore. She was tired. “Where’s Roo?”

“He’s out back.” Steve frowned “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit nothing.” He shot back, looking at her. She looked away as the tears filled her eyes and she turned to her brother shaking her head.

“Just Frank…and…”

“What’s he done?” Steve asked

“I don’t know.” Fliss said, her tears trickling down her face. “That’s just it…”

Steve put the coffee mug he was holding down on the side and swept his sister into his arms. “Hey, come on…”

She pressed her face into his grey t-shirt as his arms wrapped around her and she simply cried the tears she’d been holding back all morning. Eventually Steve pulled back and looked down at her, letting out a soft sigh. “What’s going on Lissy?”

She moved to take out her phone and wordlessly scrolled to the offending photos which she had saved and handed the phone to him. “There’s another one…” she said, as she saw her brother’s face darken. Steve swiped across and let out a huff through his nose.

“Okay.” he nodded “They don’t look great. What’s he got to say for himself?”

Fliss swallowed “That he was drunk, and moments after the first one he pushed the girl away and on the second one…well, he says he told her to get lost too but…” “But you don’t believe him?”

“I want to believe him.” Fliss sniffed, “I mean he’s never lied to be before, but then then there’s the message he sent me about being in someone else’s room and…”

“Hang on…someone else’s room?”

Fliss nodded and explained the whole mix up, about how he had been with Simon but even that she was having her doubts about now and Steve listened, his hand running over his beard as he took in her words.

“Have you talked to any of the other guys that were there?” he asked and she shook her head.

“Bonnie tried calling me before but, well to be honest they’re all gonna cover for him, even if he did do it aren’t they? I mean fuck…, seeing those damned photos…it was humiliating and…”

Steve sighed, handing her the phone back. “Look, Lissy, I’ve been in this position before. Some woman all over me and Sian getting the hump. Photos are a snap shot in time, they never tell the whole story…you know that as well as anyone.”

“Yeah, but the same girl is there, on his fucking lap Steve…”

“I know, and yes, regardless of what he did he shouldn’t have let that happen but…fucking hell, he was in Vegas, pissed out of his brains.” Steve sighed “I’m not excusing it, before you start, and I’m not dismissing your worry but…I dunno Liss, just don’t jump to any conclusions ok? Give it some thought.” “I can’t think about anything else.” she murmured. “God you’re just like dad.” Steve chuckled “Could be worse people to be like. Look, go to work, get your thoughts straight and if you’re adamant at the end of the day you still don’t believe him then just come here for the night and we’ll take it from there ok?”

Fliss nodded and wiped at her face “Thanks Steve.” “What are big brother’s for huh?” She smiled and then eyed him a little “You’re not gonna do anything stupid are you?” “Define stupid?” “Like go round there and punch him?” Steve shook his head “I promise, no punching.” Satisfied he was telling her the truth she whistled for both dogs who came trotting over, bid her brother goodbye and headed out to her jeep.

****** With nothing else much to do on his day off, Frank was busy scrolling the internet looking at realtor pages. Whilst things were still up in the air, it was helping him focus on being positive, because being anything else was not an option. So far nothing in particular had grabbed his eye but still, it was keeping him occupied as he tried to push the fear he was harbouring to the back of his mind.

He was pulled from his browsing by a knock to the door. Setting the laptop to one side he stood up and headed down the hallway and no sooner had he opened the door someone had gripped the collar of his shirt and shoved him harshly into the wall. It took him a split second to focus and when he realised who it was he gripped the front of them man’s shirt and pushed back. There was a little scuffle in the hallway until Frank managed to free himself from the man’s grip before he stood there, glaring at him, chest heaving.

“Fuck off Steve…” he glared at him.

“I warned you.” Steve looked at him “I told you what would happen if you hurt her Frank…”

“Yes, I remember what you said.” Frank looked at him, shaking his head.

“And yet you still did it…” “Oh get fucked, this has nothing to do with you…” “Piss off Frank, it has everything to do with me.” Steve snarled “She turned up this morning for the dog in a right state. And she showed me the photos.”

Frank sighed and hung his head. He should have expected this.

“I told her not to jump to conclusions, trying to keep her calm but I gotta admit Frank…they look pretty damning.”

“I’m aware of that, thanks.” Frank bit back “And you know what, I don’t need this. Things are enough of a mess as it is without adding a brawl with you into the equation.” he turned back to head into the living room “Close the door on your way out.”

“Look me in the eye, tell me you didn’t…” Steve said to his back and Frank stopped, shaking his head as he turned to face him.

“Of course I didn’t. I’d never do that to her.”

Frank met Steve’s glare with one of his own and he could practically see the man’s mind whirring. Eventually he took a deep breath and jerked his head in a stiff nod.

“I had to know Frank.” he said, his tone less confrontational, and Frank knew Steve well enough to understand that was as much of an apology as he was going to get. Frank didn’t say anything, simply turned away once more and headed into the lounge.

“So what happened?” Steve asked following him.

“I was shit faced, that’s what happened.” Frank sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. He turned to look at Steve once more “The girl was part of a group that we’d bumped into a few times. She was a little flirty and yeah, I talked to her, but… she was a fucking kid they were there on a 21st party.”

Steve arched an eyebrow slightly as Frank pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

“She tried kissing me in the bar, I pushed her away. I don’t even know how she ended upon my lap but I told her to get lost and…” he shrugged and looked at Steve “There’s nothing more to it…”

“And the morning after when you woke up elsewhere?”

Frank let out a groan “I was in Simon’s room. I passed out…we both did. Liss called me that morning, she even heard Simon on the phone.” Steve watched him carefully as Frank simply shook his head “I’ve explained all this to her…”

“I know.” Steve said “I just wanted to hear it for myself.” He took a deep breath “Any coffee going?”

Frank looked at him and Steve gave him a small smile, causing Frank’s spirit to lift somewhat. Her brother believed him, which was the best thing he could have hoped for in the circumstances.

“Sure.” Frank nodded and headed to the kitchen, Steve following. He made them both a drink, not another word spoken until he handed him a mug and Steve took a sip, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Look, Frank, I don’t think she believes you cheated, not really. From what she said to me I think she’s more upset really about how she found out.”

“She wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for those damned photos because there is nothing to find out.” Frank shook his head.

“When she told you about John…did she ever mention his little photo stunts?” Steve looked at Frank and Frank paused, frowning a little as he racked his brains, and then a conversation one stormy night as they lay in bed suddenly flashed into his mind.

“He used to go out and deliberately let women paw at him, and instead of hiding any photo evidence he used to simply flaunt it, splash it all over Facebook. That’s why I de-activated all my social media until recently…”

“Fuck.” Frank groaned, shaking his head.

“Manipulation.” Steve’s jaw set. “He would never do anything with the girls but he made Lissy think he had and would then accuse her of being jealous, and paranoid. It was his twisted of getting her to come off social media, another way to isolate her, keep her in line.”

“She doesn’t think that’s what I was doing?” Frank looked at Steve, a horrified expression on his face.

“God, no.” Steve shook his head, “She knows you’re not that man…but Frank, as happy and as safe as she is, those scars are gonna be there for a long time.” “I know.” “And I know that the fact that ass hole could still be casting a shadow over everything you have, especially now he’s well out of the picture, is basically really shit, but…” “I should have remembered.” Frank shook his head. “But, well, to be honest I’ve never had to explain myself like that to any girl, let alone the one I want to spend my life with and I was so caught up in getting her to believe me, I didn’t even consider any of that. Looks like I just fucked things up even more.”

“She’ll come round.” Steve looked at him. “Just give her time.” “I hope you’re right.” Frank shrugged “Because if she doesn’t I’ll never forgive myself.”

****

Fliss groaned as she looked at the caller ID on her phone. It was Bonnie again.

“Fucks sake…” She grumbled, before answering, deciding to get it over and done with.

“Finally!” Bonnie said, “I’ve been so worried about you…”

“Look, Bonnie I’m really busy…”

“Just 5 minutes…hear me out, please.”

“If you’re gonna start pleading Frank’s case…”

“There’s no case to plead. Simon told me everything last night, apparently about 30 seconds after she’d perched on his knee Frank suddenly realised what was going on and told her to fuck off.” “Well he would say that, he’s his friend…”

“Oh come on Fliss…” Bonnie made an exasperated noise “First off I can tell when Simon is lying, and he wasn’t, and second off, do you really think Frank would cheat on you?”

“I’m sick of everyone telling me what I should and shouldn’t think.” Fliss practically snarled “I don’t have time for this.”

She cut the call and shoved her phone back into her pocket, her hand gently sliding over her bump.

“You know, people are only trying to help Titch.”

Fliss spun round to see her brother in the doorway to the office and she let out a groan “I thought you were over to do work…” “My meetings start tomorrow.”

“Right, well, go and find something else to do. I’m busy.”

“Don’t get shitty with me…” Steve frowned.

“Steve just fuck off!” Fliss exploded “I can’t deal with…” she stopped and shook her head “Why can’t everyone just leave me alone.” “Because they’re trying to help.” He repeated his earlier sentiment and Fliss blinked back her tears.

“Well they’re not.” she sniffed

“Titch…look at me.” Steve said gently and she raised her head to meet her brother’s eyes, her own watering with tears.  “Do you hand on heart believe he would cheat on you…seriously?”

“I didn’t.”

“So why do you now?”

“I don’t know if I do, it’s just those photos and…” “Fuck the photos.” Steve said, his voice a little sterner. Fliss swallowed as she looked at her brother, as he continued. “Do you truly think Frank is the type of man who would, after everything you two went through, jump into bed with some tramp in Vegas whilst this pregnant fiancée is at home, looking after his niece?”

Fliss looked down at the floor, her tears falling down her cheeks.

“Because I don’t, Liss.” Steve continued “Especially not now he looked me in the eye and said he hasn’t.”

At that her head jerked up and she frowned. “You went round?”

“Yeah.”

“Steve you promised not to!”

“No, I promised not to punch him. And I didn’t.” he shrugged, not a shred of apology in his tone. “I talked to him, asked him straight to explain to my face.”

“And you believe him?”

“Yeah I do believe him, completely. I think he was drunk, and at worst potentially indulged the girl a little over the days they were there, which, ok, he shouldn’t have done but at worst he’s guilty of nothing but allowing some 21 year old kid to flirt with him a little.  And if that’s a crime then, fuck, you better shoot me along with half the population now.”

Liss looked away, her brother’s words ringing in her head. Truth was they hit home. She had always been a flirty person by nature, it was just the way she was…well, had been until John beat it out of her. But Frank, well, Frank had never bothered about her talking to other men before because he knew she was his…

“Is this really about him, or is this all to do with that fucker again?” Steve asked.

Fliss gave a snort and looked up at Steve. “Can you read minds?”

“No, you just get this look on your face whenever you think about him.”

She stayed silent.

“Frank isn’t John” Steve spoke gently.

“I know that Steve…”

“So stop comparing the two.”

“I’m not.”

“Ok, really? So tell me honestly when you saw those photos your mind didn’t go to his party trick of being photographed with every girl he could manage to on a night out to rub your nose in it, whether he cheated or not?”

“I know that’s not what Frank was doing.” she shook her head. And she did, truly. Frank would never manipulate her like that but she would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about it, and how shit it made her feel “I just…”

“You’re waiting for something to come along and fuck everything up for you.” Steve said, looking at her.  “Which I get, I really do Titch because of everything you’ve been through but you need to stop looking over your shoulder and worrying about what you think is gonna happen, and simply look at what is, because if you don’t then eventually you’re just going to fuck it all up for yourself.”

Fliss turned away from her brother, his words cutting her to the core. He was right. She was, whether consciously or not, constantly wondering when her happiness was going to shatter around her because all she had ever known in a relationship was pain and anger. Some days she would wake before Frank and lie there, watching his face as he slept, committing every single detail right down to those freckles that spattered his nose and cheek, unable to believe how lucky she was. Engaged to a man who asked her to marry him because he loved her and didn’t merely want to possess her. She had a home, not a house, a surrogate daughter in Mary, days filled with laugher and happiness, and a baby on the way. It was a dream for most people, including her and she was perpetually scared one day someone or something would take it all from her. Just as they always had before.

“You know, Frank told me that he’s never had to explain himself to a girl before…” Steve gave took a deep breath “He’s now petrified that being honest with you has just made things worse. Doesn’t that tell you something?” Fliss looked at her brother, taking in his words. This was all unchartered territory for Frank too. What they were building together was new. He wanted it and more importantly he wanted it with her. As that realisation washed over her so did another one, the understanding that he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise what they have. 

“Look, what the pair of you have is special. Don’t let something as stupid as this ruin it all because you both deserve better than that.”

The tears in Fliss’ eyes began to spill down her cheeks and Steve sighed, pulling her to his chest, gently rocking her to and fro, simply allowing her to cry.

****

When Fliss got home Frank wasn’t there, but there was a Pandora Gift Bag sat on the coffee table. Curiosity got the better of her and she undid the bag, opening the box inside. It was a small stroller charm and she swallowed, placing the box back in the bag. She heard the door open and turned as Frank appeared in the doorway.

“Before you ask…” Frank nodded at the bag in her hand “I didn’t buy you that as a sweetener. I got that in Vegas before any of this kicked off. It’s not supposed to be a bribe.”

“I didn’t…” she shook her head, placing it back on the table “That wasn’t what I thought.”

He gave her a nod and she studied him for a second, before Mary bounced into the room.

“Hey!” Fliss smiled at her, “You had a good day.”

“Yeah, it was okay” Mary nodded “They were all doing math today but I did some of my uni work whilst they did the times tables. Have you and Frank made up yet?”

Liss hesitated and Frank gently dropped his hand to the back of Mary’s head.

“We talked, and we still need to talk some more. Any chance you can give us some space?”

She eyed him for a moment before she shrugged “I got homework, I’ll be in my room.”

“Thanks Stack.” he smiled and she turned and headed back out of the room. Once she was out of ear shot Frank turned to Fliss.

“So I had a visit from Steve.”

“I’m sorry I told him not to.”

“He was just being a big brother.” Frank shook his head “But I’m not gonna lie, he scared the shit out of me.” “Well he came to the yard after, fighting your corner. As Bonnie has been.”

“Honey, I didn’t ask them to.”

“I know.” There was a moment of silence before she sighed. “Frank, I’m sorry…”

“Liss…”

“Let me finish, please.” She shook her head and Frank fell silent, his hands falling into the pockets of his jeans. “If I’m honest I don’t think I ever thought you’d really cheated, I guess, well I guess I saw the photos and…” she trailed off, shrugging “I’m sorry for not believing you, but I’m still pissed at you for getting yourself in that position in the first place.”

Frank hesitated for a second. He was about to protest that he was just drunk, point out that he hadn’t meant to get himself in any position at all,  but then he stopped himself. She was angry and hormonal, and he’d rather have her pissed at him for being an idiot than believing he was unfaithful.

So instead he nodded “Ok that’s fair. I get it. And I’m sorry.”

She looked at him for a moment and he stepped forward to give her a hug but she simply moved back a little and gave him a small smile “I’ll start dinner.”

“Sure…” his voice was quiet. He wanted nothing than to hold her in his arms, run his hand over the place his baby was growing, her bump seemingly even bigger than it had been that morning but he also didn’t want to push it. She hadn’t left, she believed him, but she was pissed. However, Frank knew she would get over that in time…which he understood he had to give her, and respect the boundaries she set too. So, with that in mind he took a deep breath and followed her into the kitchen.

“Do you want me to help or…”

“No, it’s only stir fry.” She shook her head. “Did you already feed Mary or…”

He frowned and looked at her, and then realised what she was referring to. They hadn’t been home when she arrived.

“Oh, no…I picked her up and then ran my suit into the dry cleaners.” He said “It had something all over the front of it. God knows what.”

She nodded. “Okay, well it won’t be too long.”

“I’ll set the table then.” he nodded. He moved around, careful not to step into her space as he gathered the various items around and carrying them into the dining room. Once he had completed that he headed out telling Fliss he was going to wash up and tell Mary to do the same.

Fliss acknowledged him and continued with cooking, when suddenly she felt a really strange sensation in her stomach. It was like a fluttering, almost as if she had bubbles inside her belly, and then she realised instantly what it was.

Their baby had moved. And she’d just felt it for the first time.

Pausing what she was doing her hand fell to her bump as the tiny little sensations flooded her and she felt a smile creeping over her face.

“Hey Bean.” She whispered, softly.

At that point Frank came back into the room and saw her, her hand on her bump, stood perfectly still, looking down at her belly and he frowned.

“Lissy?” He looked at her as she raised her head to look at him “Everything ok?”

“Yeah, I just felt Bean move!” she smiled, her eyes bright and Frank let out a grin.

“Really?” he stepped forward, his hand out but he paused. Fliss looked at him and he locked eyes with her. Fliss understood instantly, he was waiting for her to say it ok after she told him last night not to touch her.

He was asking her permission.

Instantly her heart melted towards him, she loved this man, with everything she had. And he loved her. She gently took his hand and pulled on it softly, and he closed the distance as she pressed his palm to her stomach, leaving her hand resting over his. 

“I doubt you’ll feel it…it was just like bubbles, not really a kick or anything.” She said as he looked down before he raised his eyes back to her “But they can hear you now though, according to Mary’s extensive research.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. Frank took a deep breath and knelt down, both his hands resting on the side of her belly as he grinned “Hey kid. You cooking well?”

Fliss felt the flutters again, a little stronger this time and she smiled, her hand running into Frank’s hair “They just did it again. They clearly know your voice, daddy.”

He glanced up at her, his eyes watering “I love you both so much.”

“I know.” She sniffed. “I love you too.”

Frank stood up, his hands sliding up Fliss’ thighs to her hips and as he did, hers fell from his hair to his shoulders. They both stayed still, simply looking at one another till Frank leaned forward and gave her a soft kiss.

“This doesn’t mean I’ve completely forgiven you.” She muttered against his mouth and he smiled.

“I wouldn’t dream of suggesting it did.” He shrugged “But is it at least enough to get me off the couch? My back is killing me.”

“You wanna compare back ache?” She arched an eyebrow.

“No, no, not at all, obviously yours is far worse than mine could possibly be…”

Fliss narrowed her eyes. “Is that sarcasm?”

“Absolutely not.” He told her sincerely, shaking his head. His eyes, however, told her a different story. Those azure blues she knew and loved shone with humour, utterly betraying him.

“Hmmm, well I’ll think about it.” Her hands moving to pat his chest. “Now get lost, I need to finish dinner.”

Frank turned away, a smile on his face. As he always told Mary, an I’ll think about it wasn’t a no.

**** Chapter 5

[destiniesfic]

132 Hours, Chapter 3:

“Let me step on your back,” I say abruptly.

Previous

Read chapter 3 on AO3, or read below:

“Sherlock Holmes.”

I barely have to think about it. “Sherlock Holmes was an omega.”

“No.” Cardan sounds totally affronted. “No way. How can you even say that?”

For lack of anything better to do, we have been playing this game for nearly an hour. Mostly fictional characters, but some historical figures, too, who are up for debate. As much as alphas would love to lay claim to every known conqueror, it just isn’t realistic. Cardan and I have already gone back and forth on Alexander the Great and Ivan the Terrible and Ghengis Khan. Designations live in a kind of middle space between gender and sexual orientation, so people make assumptions based on the way you present in society, but also whether you’re an alpha, an omega, or a mythical beta is, technically, no one’s business but yours. So, especially in older stories, these things go unsaid or are discreetly left for the reader to surmise.

“Why would he be an alpha?” I challenge.

Cardan is sitting in his corner, one leg propped up, elbow on knee, same as before. He shrugs. “I mean, he feels empowered to take charge in crime scene investigations, he’s assertive—”

“You’re thinking of the BBC reboot,” I scoff. “The way Conan Doyle wrote his Holmes wasn’t like that. He was an expert, yes, and knew it, but he admitted it when someone bested him, and he went out of his way to help vulnerable people. People who had been scammed, or… single women.”

As bad as it seems for omegas and women—especially omega women—now, it would have been even worse in the stratified Victorian era. We still have our strata, but they were more codified then:

Alpha men

Alpha women/omega men (depending on the situation)

Omega women

And, of course, it was all way worse when race and class got thrown in. The point is that someone like Violet Smith of “The Solitary Cyclist”—a woman, assumed omega, and poor—would have been in real trouble without Holmes’ help.

“So he’s an omega because he’s nice to widows?” Cardan asks, with a glare.

“No, he’s an omega because he pays attention,” I reply. “Alphas don’t need to pay attention the way Sherlock Holmes does. You just waltz in and traipse all over whatever or whoever and always get your way. Who cares about the details when you’re an alpha? But Sherlock Holmes looks hard at the little things. You don’t do that if you don’t have to, if you’re not used to walking into a room and assessing threats, figuring out the balance of power. All the time. Because it’s exhausting, but you have to do it.”

Cardan is quiet for a beat too long, and I realize I may have actually said more about myself than about Sherlock Holmes. But he spares me by saying, “Surely we’re not all that bad.”

I make a noncommittal sound.

“Your dad’s an alpha, right?” he continues. “He took you and Taryn in after your parents died. He didn’t have to do that.”

I have to keep myself from snorting. No one who’s met Madoc would ever describe him as particularly nice or even giving. “Did you know Vivi has a pet conspiracy theory that he killed our parents in the first place?”

“What?”

“Not himself, obviously. That he hired someone to sabotage the car we were in.” I don’t know why I tell him. The second it leaves my mouth it feels like a family secret, or an in-joke I’m not supposed to share. But I can’t stop talking. “I mean, it was just luck we weren’t killed, Taryn and Vivi and I. But my parents’ car was new. The brakes shouldn’t have given out like they did. Anyway, Vivi thinks he took us in because he felt guilty.”

“I mean, that’s… crazy to think your dad was involved.” But Cardan says it too slowly, and hastens to add, “He isn’t a supervillain.”

“Yeah, I know. Just with everything that happened after, the way he swooped in, she was always suspicious.” I feel my mouth twitch, but I don’t know whether I want to smile or scowl. “I think she wanted us to be like The Boxcar Children and run away to live in the woods.”

“Well, you’re getting the one-room, no-running-water experience now.”

I catch myself smiling—he’s funny—and force my mouth into a frown, scouring our little room again for anything useful. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Even the socket that would hold a bare lightbulb is empty. Finally, my eyes settle on the one tiny window, set close to the ceiling, letting in a meager amount of natural light that does seem to have grown brighter as we talked.

“Let me step on your back,” I say abruptly.

“You want to what?”

“Step on your back,” I repeat, exasperated. “Are you tall enough to reach that window without a stool?”

“No?”

“Well, neither am I.” I fold my arms. “So I’m going to need you to give me a boost.”

He arches a critical eyebrow. “Why don’t you just sit on my shoulders?”

I blink at him. “Because… I thought you wouldn’t want to put your head anywhere near my crotch? Given how I reek and all.”

“But you thought I’d want to be stepped on? Jesus.” Cardan rubs a hand over his face. “What do you think I’m into? Look, I’ll crouch down, you get on my shoulders and look out the window. It’s not like I’m putting my face in your vag.” I shudder, and he adds, “We’ll never have to talk about it again. Okay?”

“Sounds great to me,” I say.

He nods and crouches down. I am not prepared for the way my heart thumps in my chest at the sight of the guy who made my life miserable since I was in seventh grade, who pushed me during gym, who whispered vile things in my ear whenever he could, who empowered other kids to do the same or worse waiting for me to climb onto his shoulders with his head bowed. It’s not real power, it’s just temporary, but it is intoxicating.

Then Cardan says, “Taking your time, huh?” and I snap out of it.

“Why the rush?” I ask. “Got somewhere to be?”

“I was thinking anywhere but here would be great.” He looks up at me. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I swing my legs over him and let him hoist me up on his shoulders. I haven’t exactly been invited to participate in a ton of games of chicken fight in the pool, so it’s been some time since anyone carried me like this. Maybe not since Taryn and I were very small, just after our parents died, when Madoc would help us get things from high kitchen shelves. I gasp when I’m lifted. Cardan is strong enough that it seems effortless, but I also hear him let out a small grunt.

“Not a word,” I say, dreading the jab he might make about my weight. “Move me closer to the window.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Cardan mutters, but he obliges.

I am extremely conscious of his hands on my bare thighs, the way his muscles shift under my shoulders. Some alphas, like the guy who tried to grab me at the party, are kind of muscle-bound in an unattractive way. Not Cardan. Cardan has just the right amount to be fit and lean, with the bare minimum amount of body fat, but not so much muscle that he tips over into ungraceful. He’s a sports car of a person, lithe and elegant. It’s no mystery why his shirtless TikToks get so many views.

I get my hands on the windowsill so he’s not bearing my full weight, and then I groan. “Bad news.”

“What?”

“Well, I definitely can’t fit through here. I can kind of see the sky, so I would guess it’s maybe ten a.m. Otherwise there’s just a window well. Plastic and dirt. I can’t make out our surroundings at all.” I sigh. “We’re in a basement.”

There’s an awkward pause, and then Cardan says, “At least we know for sure.”

“Yeah. Put me down?”

He does, and we go back to our respective seats, mentally reviewing what we know. The only door is, of course, locked from outside. The floor is bare concrete, the ceiling exposed insulation and tubing, so we might be in a storeroom of some kind, or an unfinished basement in an older house. Our kidnappers left us with absolutely nothing, so no phones. Even my keychain, with the Swiss army knife Madoc gave me before my first summer at sleep-away camp, is gone.

We are growing hungrier and more sullen with each passing minute when there is a knock at the door.

Cardan and I glance at each other from our opposite sides of the room. “Um,” I say. Are kidnappers supposed to be polite?

Cardan shrugs one shoulder, then straightens up, lifting his chin in a decidedly imperious way. Trying to summon some air of command, some macho alpha-ness that will help us out of this. It could work—it is half working on me, I begrudgingly admit to myself, because my stupid brain is wired that way—if we weren’t both grimy from sitting on the floor and still a little woozy from the drugs.

“Come in,” he calls.

The door is opened slightly, and the first thing to poke through it is the barrel of a pistol. A 9mm, by the looks of it. Cardan’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“You kids willing to behave?” comes a voice. It’s a man’s voice, strangely melodious. I was expecting the sandpapery roughness of an old-school gangster. I know it’s stereotypical, but I’ve never been kidnapped before, and it’s not like they make a manual.

Cardan and I glance at each other again. I’m not sure what we’re looking to find in each other’s faces.

“Yeah,” I say. “We’re good.”

“Oh, good. I’d hate to shoot you.” The man pushes the door open the rest of the way, and I have to press my lips shut to keep from gasping. There are disfiguring scars that cut across his cheeks, down his jaw, even one across the bridge of his nose. I’m not even sure what makes scars like that, jagged and rough-edged. If it was a knife, it wasn’t clean work. Someone was making a point.

I am immediately relieved, though, because his resonant voice had made me think we could be dealing with a real alpha, someone whose words hold command. This man is of average height, average build. If not for the scars, for the obviously broken nose, he would be totally unremarkable.

“Who are you?” Cardan asks. I am reluctantly impressed that he manages to sound haughty in this situation. He’s sitting up straight with his back against the wall, one leg outstretched, the other bent, his foot planted on the floor. He’s resting his elbow on that knee, like it’s all effortless.

“Breakfast service,” replies the man, still pointing the pistol at us. He tosses a McDonald’s bag into the room, then he and the gun retreat, and the door shuts behind him. We hear the click of a lock and then, to my horror, the sound of a deadbolt sliding into place.

Cardan exhales and reaches for the bag.

“Don’t!” I exclaim. “Seriously, it might be drugged.”

“It—what?” he asks. “Now you decide to care about whether the food is drugged? This isn’t Flowers in the Attic, Jude. We’re hostages. They want to ransom us. They’re not going to poison us.”

I blink at him. “Flowers in the Attic? You’ve read a book?”

He rolls his eyes and reaches for the bag. “Well, if you’re not going to eat it, I will.”

When he opens the bag, the smell of sausage grease and egg hit me like a truck. My stomach growls. I am suddenly very aware that the last time I ate was before the party, and my nerves had kept me from eating much then. “What… is it?”

“Two McMuffins.” He looks up at me. “See? They don’t want to starve us. They’re keeping us alive.”

“They could still tamper with them. Sedatives or something. Keep us complacent, keep us from doing what we’re going to do, which is try to escape.”

Cardan arches an eyebrow. “Has anyone ever told you you’re unbelievably paranoid?”

I think of Taryn and purse my lips. “Did you know it wouldn’t kill you to take something seriously?”

He holds up one hand, fingers spread wide. “Okay. How about this. I eat a McMuffin because I am fucking starving, and if they put anything in it it’ll get me and work through my system faster. You can stay up scheming or whatever. If nothing happens after like fifteen minutes, you get to eat yours. Or if you decide to be stubborn, I’ll eat it. Deal?”

“It’ll be cold and gross.” I cross my arms. “But fine.”

“Good.” Cardan takes a McMuffin out of the bag—his hands are so big that it barely looks like enough food for him—and devours it in what must be record time. I turn my head away.

“Where’s the nearest McDonald’s, do you think?” I ask

“Huh?”

“We were in East Hampton. They don’t have one there.”

“Uh-huh. That’s a good point.” I look back to see Cardan sucking grease off his thumb. “Dunno. Closer to the middle of the island, maybe?”

“Maybe,” I echo quietly. Without knowing how long we were out, it seems impossible to figure out where they could have taken us. “You’re right. We couldn’t be in the city.”

Cardan shakes his head. “Nah, don’t think so. Too quiet, and like you said, that’s definitely daylight, so people’d be out and about.”

“Yeah,” I say, looking up at the window.

He looks at the window, too, but doesn’t say anything, and we lapse into silence. It’s strange, to be sharing space with him, to be quiet. I could never have imagined anything like it, not with our fraught history. There’s no world in which Cardan Greenbriar and I could be friends, but, at least temporarily, we are not enemies.

“Did you like it?” I asked at last, when the silence stops being neutral and begins to make me feel anew how tired and tense I am.

“Like what?”

“Flowers in the Attic.”

“Oh.” He blinks twice, his dark eyelashes fluttering. “I read it a few years ago, but, yeah. I did. You know, it was nice to read about a family that was more fucked up than mine.” He raises his eyebrows. “Spicy, too.”

I scoff. “How can your family be so fucked up you’d read a gothic novel for catharsis?”

Cardan drums his fingers on his knee. “How much do you know about my family?”

“You’re old money. One of those alpha families that claims they’re pure alpha for generations.” Which is pretty much impossible, but everyone in that tier of society tells the same lie. Half the kids in my school claim to be pure alpha, and on paper both of their parents are alphas. But while alpha men and women can reproduce—they have the right gametes—it’s not easy. More likely omega egg donors, and, before that, omega surrogates who were well-paid. It’s no wonder they see us as breeders.

I start ticking off additional facts on my fingers. “Your great-grandfather was one of the great American magnates, but it was his alpha daughter, Mab Greenbriar, who really made something of his millions. Your dad was her only son, so he inherited the whole corporation. You have five older siblings: Balekin, Elowyn, Dain, Caelia, Rhyia—”

Cardan holds up both his hands. “Yeah, yeah. I get the point.”

“It’s all on Wikipedia.” I shrug, and to sound less like a weird stalker, I add, “And Vivi and Rhyia are like best friends.”

“You know, and I know you said it before, but I do forget Vivienne’s your sister. She’s so cool.”

I roll my eyes. “Thanks.”

I get it, though. He probably thinks Vivi’s cool because she’s an alpha, but she also gets points for being the family rebel. Her biological dad, Madoc, adopted us all after the car crash that killed our parents, but she never wanted to be the natural successor he hoped for. Now she plays rugby at an all-girls’ college, has three cartilage studs and a septum piercing, shaves half her head, and is defiantly, unapologetically queer. It’s a different path than I would take, but marching to the beat of your own drum is definitely something that appeals to people.

“By the way,” Cardan says, “it’s been a few minutes and I feel fine. Well, as fine as one can feel having eaten only one McMuffin. I don’t feel any worse.”

“Okay.” I hold out my hand. “Toss me the bag.”

The bag crinkles when he picks it up, then he looks inside. “I think I’m owed a poison taster’s fee.”

“Huh?”

Cardan takes my McMuffin out of the bag, takes a bite out of it, then drops it back in the bag, which he proceeds to lob at my head. I catch it, face wrinkling in disgust. “Ew!”

“What? I need the calories more.”

I shake the bag at him. “I am not eating this,” I huff.

“We split the water bottle. That didn’t kill you.” Cardan sits back against the wall and closes his eyes. “Besides, who knows when they’re going to decide to feed us again?”

“You’re all so gross,” I mutter as I open the bag and pull out my breakfast. He’s right, and I hate that he’s right. I also hate that my hunger is enough to overcome my revulsion, at both the stolen bite and the undeniable fact that my McMuffin is now cold. I stuff it in my mouth, devouring the rest of it in only a few bites.

“Who’s gross?” he asks. “Alphas? Boys?”

“Alpha boys,” I inform him, with my mouth full.

“Big words from somebody whose designation’s known for leaking fluids everywhere.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “We’re not the only designation that leaks,” I point out. “We’re just the only one that gets shit for it. We’re the ones who’re thought of as gross while you and your type get to go around ruling the world.”

“Oh, sure. That has nothing to do with the way you guys are totally incapacitated for three straight days if you don’t take your drugs.”

“If we don’t get out of here, you’ll be just as screwed as I am,” I snap. “Stuck in a room with me? You won’t have a chance. We’re both going to become brainless fuck machines if that happens, so… shut the hell up.”

He does, to my surprise. I do too. I wipe my greasy hands on the McDonald’s bag, then crumple it into a little ball and toss it into the corner of the room. My anger is a living thing, running through my veins like electricity, vibrating under my skin. It’s been there for so long, but I would never have dared to say that to his face before. The rest of our situation is so absurd, so dire, it feels like there are no consequences for mouthing off at him.

That’s dumb, of course. There are always consequences. But at least they won’t be coming anytime soon.

“‘Brainless fuck machines,’” Cardan whispers quietly, and then he snickers.

“You—shut up,” I say, feeling unlikely mirth bubbling at the corners of my mouth. Cardan lets out another huff of laughter, and then I am giggling, and he’s laughing outright, clutching at his stomach. It’s ridiculous, all of my nerves coming out like that, but he’s laughing and it feels like there’s nothing for me to do but laugh too.

“Oh, man,” he says, wiping at his eyes. “I didn’t know you were a poet.”

“I’m serious!” I squeal, my abs cramping from laughing and trying not to laugh harder all at once. “That’s what happens!”

“God.” Cardan lets his head fall softly into the corner. “We are so screwed.” He points one finger up in the air. “Metaphorically. So far.”

“Jesus.” I cover my face with both of my hands. “Jesus.”

“Jesus was an alpha.”

I peek at him through my fingers. “He was not. He literally said ‘I am the Alpha and the Omega.’”

“I’m just fucking with you.” Cardan grins, his hair flopping in his face, but then his cheer vanishes abruptly. “Wait, you’re not actually religious, are you?”

I shake my head. “Not really.” But I still know that common theology holds that Jesus—and angels, and any other holy beings I don’t know about—are not alphas or omegas, but they aren’t betas, either. They are all things and nothing. Must be a good life. I pull my hands down and squint at him. “Were you worried about offending me?”

“Me?” Cardan shakes his head to toss his hair out of his face. “Nah.”

“Well, good.” I cross my arms again. “Because you’ve never cared before, and it’d really freak me out if you started now. Then I’d know we were both losing it for real.”

“I just thought…” He shrugs. “I mean, it’d be nice if one of us believed in something. That praying could help. I’d like to believe that. Seems tidy.”

“Yeah.” I let my cheek fall against the cold wall, too, and blink away the memories of screaming at the night sky, demanding someone give me my parents back. I can’t fall into that pit. I will not.

I just say, “I stopped believing that anyone was listening a long time ago.”

Cardan scratches at the wall with his finger. “Me too, Duarte,” he said. “Me too.”

Next

[ti-bae-rius]

Malec couple’s yoga one shot

“I can’t believe you agreed to this.”

“What? Yoga is a really great training activity. It keeps your muscles strong and toned and is great for flexibility and stamina.”

“Flexibility and stamina? I do like the sound of that.”

“Magnus!”

The two of them walked along the streets of New York, both in workout gear – though that phrase meant two wildly different things for each. Alec’s runes were glamoured and he wore his training gear – sans the heavy leather fabric shadowhunters donned for battle – which mainly consisted of a pair of loose jogging pants and a t-shirt that (like all Alec’s t-shirts) had seen better days. Magnus, however, had taken this as an opportunity to acquire some truly magnificent new clothes. A tank top reading ‘I’m heavily meditated’ and a pair of tight-fitting joggers, cuffed at the ankle and tailored to hang just right, completed Magnus’s outfit. Alec had to smile. No one else, in the history of workouts, had tailored yoga pants. But then no one else was quite like Magnus.

“We don’t need mats or anything, do we?” Alec asked, as they passed under the archway into Central Park. “The information seemed really vague. Do you think it’ll run over – my mom can only handle Max and Rafe for so long.”

“All this worrying doesn’t seem very zen of you,” Magnus chastised, taking Alec’s hand and swinging it like they did when they were making Max and Rafe ‘fly’ as they walked along the paths. Alec always thought this was somewhat of a big ask from Max, who actually could fly without the aid of Alec’s arms that were usually already somewhat tired from demon-hunting all day. Nevertheless, their squeals of joy made it all worthwhile.

A small throng of people were gathered, couples stretching together and chatting, in Central Park’s Sheep Meadow. Though still busy, it was somewhat less crowded and tourist-populated than the majority of the Park. Alec squinted to look who was there as the two of them walked closer and leaned up to whisper to Magnus, “There’s more gays than I thought there’d be.”

“Oh please, couples yoga is for three sets of people: bohemian lesbians who have squeezed this in between sensual pottery and live drawing where they only draw Cate Blanchett, straights whose marriages are on the rocks and are in desperate need of closeness not derived from brushing past one another on the way to write something on their family planner by the fridge, or gay couples – that’s us – whose marriage is just where it’s supposed to be.”

“And who want a brief moment of respite from their children – one of whom transforms into a bat when annoyed and one who loves annoying his brother?”

“I don’t think that’s quite as universal as you might expect,” Magnus pointed out and Alec laughed.

Thankfully, no one else seemed to have yoga mats. Despite Magnus’s assertions, most of the couples here looked calm and happy to be there. Alec relaxed a little and when a man and woman came over to introduce themselves as the instructors, he leaned casually against Magnus’s side, content to let his husband do the talking. He glanced round, watching the sunlight filter through the leaves of a nearby tree, mottling the grass below it with little pools of soft illumination. This was pretty nice, he thought, a feeling of serenity washing over him. Maybe Magnus was right, maybe Alec did just need to loosen up and relax, try and enjoy these new experiences. Maybe they’d become that couple, the couple that did yoga in the park and had brunch with their kids where they didn’t even drink mimosas or bloody marys because they didn’t need the pick-me-up of socially acceptable mid-morning alcohol. He’d always thought Izzy would be that person.

“Right,” the female instructor said in a voice that commanded the group. Though she’d raised her voice to gather them, she still sounded soft-spoken. “Let’s all find a space and let that space be our own bubble. Today, you and your partner are one being, two halves of one yogi. Together, let your hearts find a space. Be led by your shared heartbeat.”

Magnus and Alec exchanged a look and Magnus raised an eyebrow. Perhaps this was a little…much. Alec gave Magnus a miniscule frown and mouthed “that’s not very zen”. Magnus rolled his eyes but put a hand out and rested it on Alec’s chest, then put the other hand to his own.

“Our collective heartbeat is telling me that we should get out of here,” he said, with the same whimsical timbre to his voice that the instructor had. “It also says that the guac in the refrigerator needs eating tonight.”

Alec gave an inelegant snort and the instructors looked over at them. They didn’t look annoyed – Alec wasn’t sure people who were that at peace could be annoyed – but Alec schooled his expression into neutrality.

“I think just here is fine for our bubble,” he said and Magnus nodded, eyes glittering with amusement.

“I see we have some new energies in our space today,” the male instructor said, his speech with the same gentle lilt as his wife’s. “We welcome you into our family.” Magnus tried very hard not to think of how much this sounded like late-stage Crimson Hand rhetoric. “For our new friends, let me introduce us. This is my wife, Kelly, and I’m Gareth. Family, let’s emit some extra good vibes today to make our new souls feel welcomed and cherished.”

Alec firmly kept his eyes on the instructors instead of giving Magnus the weighted look he wanted to. Okay, this seemed a little full-on, but they’d just got here. They couldn’t judge it yet.

“What we’re going to do is start with a really easy pose that will help to solidify your connection to your partner and maintain your unity throughout our time together today,” breathed Kelly. “Let’s start with a stacked child’s pose. One half of your team transition now from mountain pose down to child’s pose, copying Gareth.”

Alec and Magnus exchanged looks and Alec shrugged, watching Gareth fold himself down onto the floor, facedown, as if having an existential crisis. Alec copied, and immediately felt the grass tickle his nose. From somewhere above him, Kelly continued talking.

“Now for our other halves, gently climb on your partner’s back and settle into the same pose. This is a really easy starting position and will keep us grounded and unified ready for our next step.”

Alec was about to say something when he felt Magnus’s weight settle atop him, pushing him further into the tickly grass. He breathed around the extra weight on his spine and Magnus bent to whisper in Alec’s ear.

“Wanna admit I was right to say we should’ve left?”

“No, this is very soothing,” Alec mumbled, and coughed on the grass that got in his mouth.

“Also, why is this child’s pose? Have Gareth and Kelly ever seen a child? If Max and Rafe were laid on the floor on their faces like this, I’d call an exorcist.”

“Shhh, I’m getting in touch with my inner peace,” Alec mumbled, and spluttered again on the grass in his mouth. “And also with this dirt.”

After a few minutes of relative calm, Gareth’s voice rung out, soft but commanding.

“Let’s all return to mountain pose now, stretching our arms up over our heads to transition to extended mountain.”

When Alec straightened up again, he glanced around, just to make sure he wasn’t being pranked. But no, a dozen other couples were all doing the same as them, lightly holding their hands above their heads, arms outstretched toward the sunny sky of New York. He settled back into it a little and tried to relax, wondering if relaxing was meant to take this much effort.

“Now we’re going to move into couple’s tree pose,” Gareth instructed. “Stand beside your partner and raise the arm closest to them into the air, touching their palm with yours. You can interlock your fingers here for extra emotional support, if you so desire. With your outside leg, rest the flat of your foot against your upper thigh, and bring your outside hands together to press flat against one another in the space between you.”

“Are you interlocking our fingers for emotional support?” Magnus whispered and Alec huffed a laugh.

“I’m doing it for structural support. I’m on some uneven grass and I feel like I’m about to fall over.”

“Consul Lightwood?”

Alec spun so fast that Magnus stumbled sideways, righting himself just in time and shooting Alec a furious look. In fact, the whole group were staring at them, looking as displeased as a group of people who had dedicated themselves to inner peace could look. Which, to be fair, wasn’t that displeased.

“Is there something disrupting your practise today?” Kelly asked, and Alec gave a nervous laugh.

“Just give me one second,” he said, staring off into the treeline where the call had come from.

“The forces outside your bubble are of no consequence during your practise,” Gareth told him, but Alec was already starting to walk over to the trees. Magnus gave a shrug to the instructors and an apologetic glance to the others in the group.

“He’s got a bad knee,” Magnus explained lamely and set off after Alec, jogging to catch up with him as he spoke to two younger shadowhunters. They couldn’t have been more than sixteen and were gaping up at Alec – and now Magnus too – with wide eyes.

“So how about I report back that you guys have been doing some great work on patrol, and you don’t tell anyone about…that,” Alec bartered. The two shadowhunters nodded and hurried off, casting looks over their shoulders as they went, heads bent together as they whispered. Alec looked at Magnus and burst out laughing. “Okay, you were right. We should’ve left before it started.”

“You mean you don’t want to get in touch with our shared heartbeat and become one soul in two bodies?” Magnus asked in mock-offence.

Alec gave him a sly side-eye and took his hand. “I didn’t say that. I’m sure we can work something out. We still have the apartment to ourselves for an hour or two before we have to get the kids.”

“What happened to ‘my mom can’t cope with them for too long’?” Magnus challenged, a devilish glint in his eye.

“She’ll be fine,” Alec assured him.

 “Why are we going to yoga night school?” Magnus asked as they reached the building indicated on Alec’s phone.

“Because it’s the only class I could find in the area when we had someone to watch the kids,” Alec explained. “Don’t worry, I made Simon promise to make them dinner.”

“Well hopefully this one is less traumatic.”

Alec groaned. “Don’t remind me. At least in a building we don’t risk random shadowhunters walking past.”

“Unless they’re in the class too!” Magnus pointed out chirpily and Alec shot him a glare as they went inside.

Much like the last class, people were milling about in couples. Alec gave the crowded hallway a quick scan but couldn’t see anyone they knew – thankfully. Alec relaxed a little. There were about the same number of couples here too, around twelve, and Alec couldn’t tell who the instructors were. Mostly people were talking in soft voices, sipping bottles of water, and leaning affectionately into conversations with their partner. Magnus glanced around.

“What kind of yoga is this?”

“I don’t know, tandem or something,” Alec said. “It was the only one available, but it looks good. The website said something about building trust and closeness or whatever.”

“Clearly imperative for us,” Magnus said dryly. “What with us being so distant and untrusting and all.”

Alec rolled his eyes but smiled.

Before he could respond, a door opened at the end of the hall and a woman emerged in a pair of leggings and a sports bra. She smiled at them and beckoned them all in. As Magnus and Alec passed her in the door, she turned and beamed at them.

“You must be our new sign-ups. I hope you enjoy the class and feel more in touch with yourselves and your bodies when you leave.”

No cult-like mentions of joining a family, or bubbles, or shared heartbeats. Alec heaved a sigh of relief and gave a glance toward Magnus, who was looking around the room. Everyone did seem quite touchy-feely, Magnus thought, but brushed it off. What else should he have expected from couple’s yoga – particularly couple’s yoga with a majority hetero clientele? He and Alec took a seat at the back of the studio, removing their shoes like the others had done and putting them behind their mat, and chatted between themselves until the woman who’d greeted them stepped to the front of the room with her own partner, a tall and well-built surfer-dude type.

“So as most of you know, I’m Carly and this is Dale, and we’ll be your guides tonight. As always, please feel free to take breaks as you need them, communication with your partner is encouraged, and remember to open a conversation after tonight’s class about what you learned about each other and yourself. These classes can really prompt strong feelings, and those should be embraced and discussed in a non-judgemental and loving way.”

“How intense is this class meant to be?” Magnus whispered to Alec, who shrugged, looking a little nervous. Was this for expert yoga-people? Yogists? Yogurts? What kind of relaxation came with a warning?

“While Carly lights the candles and I bring the lights down and close the blinds, feel free to come to rest in any pose that feels comfortable for you. Perhaps that’s child’s pose, a seated position, or maybe even corpse pose,” Dale said, and began readying the room.

“I’m starting to think we might all end up in corpse pose by the end of the night,” Alec hissed quietly, glancing round. “This looks like how most demonic rituals begin.”

“Maybe this is all a trap and Elyaas is just trying to get us to let him see Max again,” Magnus suggested and Alec laughed, looking round at the other couples to see how they were sat. Many were laid side by side, like bodies in mortuary shelves, but a handful of them were laid on their sides, pressed close together as if they were cuddled in bed. Alec raised his eyebrow sceptically and settled for sitting with his legs crossed before him, his back against Magnus who was in the same position.

“I’m getting in first to say we should leave now,” Alec whispered, eyes closed. “Just so if this is as bad as last time, I’ll get to be right.”

Alec felt Magnus’s shoulders move against his as he chuckled, then start a little as Dale spoke again.

“Okay, excellent. Let’s all slowly move to sit opposite our partner, ready to start the session with some synchronized breathing. You can do this in whatever way works for you. You could put a hand on your partner’s chest to feel their inhales and exhales. You could close your eyes and focus on the sound of their breath or maintain eye contact and build a direct channel of communication. You could hold hands. Or you can just meditate, keeping your inhalations and exhalations as one with your partner.”

Alec shuffled round to face Magnus and immediately had to close his eyes. Something about staring into the face of your significant other in a quiet and meditative room made you immediately want to burst out into loud and obnoxious laughter. Instead, he let Magnus’s hand find his in the dark of their closed eyes and tried to match their breaths. Despite himself, Alec relaxed, his shoulders drooping, jaw unclenching. Being a shadowhunter wasn’t a relaxing job, and it was sometimes hard to find time to de-stress. Maybe he’d judged this whole thing too quickly, put off by the last time. Actually, this was pretty nice.

After a while, Carly’s voice came softly through the haze of meditation, instructing them to gently come back to the present. Alec blinked open his eyes and met Magnus’s soft gaze, smiling. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

“Okay, now we’re going to move to our first real position, yab-yum,” Carly said. “You can stay crossed-legged for this, though one of you will have to move a little. One partner will stay seated and the other will climb into their lap, hooking their legs around the other’s back, coming to rest in a lotus position. Dale and I will be transitioning into yab-yum so you can observe us if you get lost.”

Magnus beckoned Alec forward and put his arms around Alec’s waist as the shadowhunter settled onto his husband’s lap, feeling a little uncomfortable doing so in a crowded room. He glanced around to confirm this was right and found everyone else doing the same.

“Relax, we’re married,” Magnus grinned and Alec nodded, laughing to himself. Magnus was right. This was totally innocent; he was just being coy.

“Gently, you can start to rock forwards and backwards,” Dale instructed, resting his hands on Carly’s hips. “Just a slight movement is fine to start. You can time this to your breathing. Breathe in, rock forward. Breathe out, rock back.”

Magnus raised an eyebrow but shrugged, following as instructed. Alec wrinkled his nose. Was it just him or did this feel weirdly…intense? Even personal?

“Are you starting to get seasick?” Magnus teased and Alec shook his head.

“I’m just really confused. What is this meant to do?”

“Help us breathe together I guess. Though, I don’t want to brag, but I’ve been breathing for centuries and I’m pretty excellent at it. I’m currently on my high score of most breaths breathed. I bet I’ve been breathing way longer than all these assholes.”

Alec laughed and tried to relax into the exercise, but he couldn’t help feeling strangely fidgety, like something wasn’t right.

“For a more connective experience,” Dale said. “You can add extra elements, especially if you’re the partner sat on the floor. Try rocking your lower back as well and raising your hips towards your partner’s.”

Alec and Magnus exchanged confused looks, and Alec felt his eyes widen when a few nearby couples began breathing more shallowly, less controlled. Magnus covered his mouth to stifle a laugh at Alec’s scandalised expression.

“Did you know—” Magnus began and Alec shook his head vehemently.

“Is this…” He dropped his voice and mouthed, “sex yoga?”

Magnus gave a loud snort of laughter and Alec shushed him, but the laugh was contagious and the sound came out disjointed and breathless. Instead, Alec put a finger to his lips, and looked up at the ceiling, trying not to meet Magnus’s eyes and start their laughs again. It was going well until Carly gave a breathy sigh and continued.

“This pose represents the mother and father in the act of sexual union, and really appeals to both genders’ need for interpenetration.”

“Well this isn’t going to help us at all then,” Magnus muttered, rolling his eyes.

Alec lost his composure completely and gave a cry of amusement that was smothered too late by Magnus’s hand. Both of them were laughing now, bent forward towards one another with tears in their eyes. Alec could feel the disapproving stares of the other people in the class and tried hard to compose himself, but it was no use. From somewhere above them, someone cleared their throat and the two of them looked up to see Carly stood there, with a face like thunder. And who could blame her, Alec thought. Two total newbies had signed up for her class, been totally blind-sided by what it actually was, and had some kind of hysteric moment in the middle of their session. Before she could say anything, Alec climbed to his feet and pulled Magnus up after him by the hands, still grinning uncontrollably.

“I, ah, don’t think this is our class,” Alec muttered apologetically.

“Yeah, I’m sure it said Bridge club was next door,” Magnus added and Alec had to press his lips together so he didn’t laugh in the poor woman’s face. Alec swept down, grabbed his shoes in one hand and Magnus’s in the other, shoved a pair at his husband, and stumbled gracelessly from the room, weaving between yab-yumming couples, and shutting the door quickly behind them.

As soon as they were out of the building, the two of them exploded into laughter, the sound ringing out on the quiet New York streets. It was already dark, though not even gone seven, and Alec sank down onto a bench to lace up his sneakers, still shaking with amusement. Magnus was bent double, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Tantric, you idiot,” Magnus wheezed. “Tantric yoga, not tandem.”

“I don’t know what that means!” Alec protested, gesturing to the building. “Who does sex yoga at seven on a Thursday evening? It’s a school day tomorrow!”

Magnus cackled and threw his head back, reminding Alec of their very first date, the two of them howling with joy at the awful subway rappers. It was the first time Alec had remembered really letting go, really surrendering to the idea of being happy. There, walking the streets with Magnus back to the apartment that wasn’t yet his home too, Alec hadn’t thought about what anyone else would think, or if someone he knew would see him. All he could think about was those terrible performers, and the way Magnus’s laugh sounded like someone opening the door to the rest of his life, and the whisper of evening air like a great spirit whispering at him that he could finally relax.

 Walking home, hand in hand, Magnus nudged a hip against Alec’s playfully.

“So, it’s super important to start a conversation after tonight’s class about what you learned about each other and yourself,” Magnus said, imitating Dale’s rolling Californian drawl.

“I learned that I should read the description of things properly before I book them for $60 a person,” Alec said.

“$60?” Magnus demanded incredulously. “You paid $120 for us to sit in a dark room with a bunch of horny couples and sit on each other’s laps?”

Alec rested his head on Magnus’s shoulder and laughed into the fabric of his jacket. “I just wanted us to have a good night out away from the kids and spend some time together.”

“I like movies, you know? And dinner, and the theatre, and literally anything where a woman doesn’t say interpenetration to me in a room full of other people.”

“Come on,” Alec urged, grinning. “Let’s at least take something from it. What did you learn?”

“I learned…that you are very, very attractive when you laugh,” Magnus said, leaning down to kiss the top of Alec’s head, feeling his husband nestle further into his shoulder. “How about you?”

“I learned…” Alec laughed shyly and straightened up, squeezing Magnus’s hand. “I learned that sitting on someone’s lap while they laugh is a unique experience that is not entirely without it’s…appeal.”

Magnus glanced at him and quirked an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

Alec shrugged and Magnus spun Alec round by the hand.

“I’m sure that could be arranged,” Magnus said softly and watched devilishly as Alec went fantastically red. “Come on, let’s go. Luckily for you we have a ridiculous life so there’s plenty of things to laugh at to get you all hot and bothered.”

Alec swatted at him and shushed him, looking around the near-empty street.

“We can start with the fact that your husband still turns you into a fumbling mess.”

“You’ll always do that,” Alec reminded him, and shot Magnus a winning smile that sent Magnus into his own state of unravelling. “We could swing by Simon and Izzy’s and get the kids early.”

“Or…” Magnus said, with a familiar look in his eyes and Alec’s mouth quirked in a smile. “I don’t know why you look so smug; I was going to suggest we sat in silence and timed our breaths to each other,” Magnus said and ducked away, chuckling, as Alec went to grab for him.

When Alec inevitably caught him, he wrapped his arms around Magnus, pressing a kiss to his neck. “What is our life?” he sighed, and Magnus tilted his chin down so his lips met Alec’s.

“Perfect,” Magnus answered fondly. “That’s what.”

DISCLAIMER

This is a fun fic - don’t take it too seriously. No not all yoga is like this, not all tantric yoga is about sensuality or sexuality, but some of it is and that’s great too. Just...take it in the spirit it’s meant.

[etoileholland]

Holland Park

@musicalkeys asked; Hi Cordelia! Can I request a fic with Reader going on a date with Tom (maybe Tom's her first OFFICIAL boyfriend) and Tom gives her, her first kiss at the end of the date? 

Pairing: Tom x female reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: none

A/N: I’m so sorry this request is a month late but I still hope you enjoy it! Requests are open but it may take me a little bit longer to write them, also please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 

“What’ve you got in the basket, Tom?” You inquired when you answered the door to see your boyfriend Tom standing on the other side of it, arm propped against the doorway. He had planned a ‘big trip’ around London, which just consisted of driving to a park in Kensington for you both to relax and spend the day together. Tom also had known that you were stressed with exams coming up, and what better way to alleviate some anxiety than to go on a picnic with your boyfriend.

This wouldn’t be any ordinary picnic, you see. No, this would be more momentous than any other date, because this was the date that Tom would finally give you your first kiss. He hadn’t had the luxury of doing so yet, being privy of the fact that you confided in him that you had never had your first kiss. When he had heard that, he couldn’t have believed it, but you confirmed, saying that you never had the opportunity to do so, since you’ve also never been in a relationship.

With this in mind, Tom wanted to make sure that this would be a first kiss to fondly remember.

“It’s a surprise.” He whispered, scrunching his nose. You laughed a little at the sight, before smiling when Tom held out his hand for you to grab.

“Hold on a second, I gotta grab my keys and all.” You held up a finger to let him know you’d be right back, before going to grab your little backpack. Tom, still standing in the doorway, gently pushed open the door so he could see you scrambling to make sure you had everything you needed. That was one of the things Tom loved about you, the fact that you were always so proactive.

A second later you were back at the door, closing and locking it behind you.

“So what’s in the basket?” You asked cheekily, trying to discreetly open the basket so you could catch a glimpse of what’s inside.

“I told you,” he laughed, playfully pushing your hand away from the basket, “it’s a surprise.”

“But I wanna see.” You whined, pouting and grabbing onto his bicep.

“Well too bad.” He tried to say that with a straight face but to no avail.

“Fine.” You let go of his arm, playfully crossing your arms in front of your chest as you two made your way to his car.

“Trust me, I promise it’ll be worth it.” He said as he held open the passenger door for you to get inside his car. Carefully closing it, he made his way to the trunk of the car, securely placing the basket in there and slamming the trunk shut. He walked to the drivers side, getting into the car and putting the key into the ignition.

Surprisingly, it was a lovely day in London. The sun was out, the sky was a beautiful hue of blue, with a few fluffy white clouds speckled in the atmosphere. There was a slight breeze that lightly chilled the air, but that wasn’t uncommon for an typical London day. 

Tom had put a lot of thought into what park he would take you to, even going so far as driving out to a few different parks to see which would be best. Hyde Park was lovely, but it was also a tourist trap, and it was always crowded at Greenwich Park. He had been spotted and followed at the Regent’s Park, so he knew that wouldn’t make you feel comfortable. Almost giving up hope, he had settled on one that he chose solely on its name alone: Holland Park in Kensington.

Serendipitously, this would be the perfect park for you to go to, and not just because he was biased that it beared the same name as him. This park had it all; a serene Japanese Kyoto garden, a cute lake and even a little waterfall. That was the spot where you two would have a picnic, and eventually your first kiss.

To ensure that the meal was perfect, he did enlist the help of his brother Sam to help create a meal, as well as prepare it. Tom knew he was obsessing over this a bit too much, but he knew how much having a perfect first kiss meant for you, so he was hoping that all this would be worth it.

The drive was a quiet forty-five minute drive, spent mostly with singing along to the playlist he had made for this special occasion, and a lot of giggling and laughter.

Every once in a while, he would look over at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, admiring your features and how you looked better in his sunglasses than he did. That was yet another one of the reasons why he was in love with you; even though you were methodical, you had always forgotten to pack the most essential things.

He hadn’t told you where you were going either, for he wanted it to be a surprise. As he drove past the sign that welcomed visitors into the park, you laughed at the name.

“Okay now before you say anything I promise this park is super cute and I did not pick it based on the name alone.” He tried to state with a straight face.

“Sure you didn’t.” You smirked.

“Whatever, I think you’ll be impressed.” He pulled the car into an available parking spot, turning off the car and sticking the keys in his pocket. He stayed silent as he looked over at you lovingly, eyes focused on your cherry red lips.

“What? Is there something on my face?” You nervously asked, pulling down the visor to inspect yourself in the mirror.

“What! No, not at all! It’s just,” he paused, contemplating if he should say what’s on his mind. “You’re just really beautiful, that’s all.”

“Oh, um thank you.” You blushed, looking down at your bag on your lap.

Oh god stop making this awkward, now you’re the nervous one, he thought to himself. Looking back at you, he asked, “You ready?”

You gazed back at him with wide eyes, excitement written all over your face. “Absolutely, I’m starving.”

“Alright, let’s go.” He opened his car door, and walked towards the boot of the car. After popping it open, he grabbed the basket and the picnic blanket before proceeding to shut the boot. He walked back over to you, gently grazing his hand with yours before intertwining his fingers with yours.

You both walked in comfortable silence from the car park to the entrance of the park. Upon walking under the entrance gate, the smell of magnolias wafted lightly through the air, being carried by the wind. In the distance you could hear children running around and playing, as well as some dogs.

Hands intertwined, he led you to the spot that he had deemed perfect for your picnic, which had a view of the lake and waterfall. He set the blanket down first, then the basket, and then sat down on the ground.

Eagerly, you grabbed the handle of the basket, wondering what was inside, but Tom playfully slapped your hand.

“Gosh you’re impatient, do you know that?” He asked, to which you just shrugged your shoulders.

“I know but I’m hungry and I’m dying to know what you packed.”

He grinned, carefully opening the basket and pulling out its contents. He first pulled out a bottle of white wine, some homemade pasta salad and a platter of mini bruschetta with cheese. To show that he had packed dessert as well, he quickly showed you a plate of chocolate covered strawberries before placing them back inside the basket. 

You stared at him in awe, marveling at how amazing he was. He looked at you with adoration, slightly raising his eyebrows before asking, “well, was the surprise worth it?”

“Oh, absolutely!” You leaned forward, throwing your arms around his neck. He was taken aback by your sudden affection, but quickly wrapped his arm that was not propping him up around your waist.

You leaned back, adjusting your seating position as Tom began to help you dish up some food. He was blushing as he served the food, taking a second to present it nicely before handing it to you.

“Thank you.” You said, and the two of you ate your food in solace.

—

Now is my chance, Tom thought to himself. You two were laying on the blanket, your chest on his. His hand rested on the small of your back, your leg wrapped over his. It was almost so peaceful than you nearly dozed off, listening to the bubbling water and to the sounds of birds. He could feel your heartbeat slowing down, your breathing becoming softer and slower, and he began to tense up. He didn’t want to take a nap now, he wanted to kiss you, and he was becoming tense that it wasn’t going to plan.

I know, I’ll just lightly nudge her and then when she wakes up I’ll kiss her, he thought.

Before he could even wake you up, you had done so yourself, carefully rolling off of him and onto your back. You bent your knees, feet flat on the ground as you carefully got up.

“Tommy, I wanna go explore.” You declared, standing up and holding your hand out for him to grab.

You have got to be kidding me, he thought, I was just about to kiss you.

“Okay, let’s go explore.” He held onto your hand as the two of you walked around the park. He was still having a good time, but he had really wanted to make a move. A few quiet minutes had passed, filled with loving side glances and quick banter, until you spotted something in the distance.

“Oh my gosh, look!” You exclaimed. Tom looked over to what you were pointing at, which was a flock of peacocks about a few metres away.

“I’m gonna go pet one.” You said, swiftly letting go of his hand and walking towards them.

“Don’t you dare.” He shouted, and watched as you walked up a hill and towards the peacocks. He observed you from a safe distance, close enough to help you but far enough away from the excitement. Carefully you got about two metres way from the small flock, but when you went to grab your phone they started walking towards you.

Instinctively you took a step back, but they were starting to charge at you. You nearly tripped walking backwards to get away as they got closer, fear setting in. Flight or fight instinct kicked in, causing you to dart down the hill.

“Tom!” Was all he heard as he saw you flying down the hill, running towards him as four peacocks chased after you.

He didn’t even have time to laugh as you grabbed his hand and ran to the other side of the lake. Luckily they didn’t follow you any longer and left you alone, but it was still hilarious.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Tom smirked as you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah well whatever.” You bent forward, placing your hands on your knees, in an effort to catch your breath. “You know,” you exhaled, “I figured that would happen.”

“You good though?” Tom asked, watching as you waved your hand up at him.

“Yep, all good.” You stood back up, gaining your composure. “Let’s take a walk.” You added, Tom nodding his head in agreement.

The next hour was spent exploring, marveling at the various things the park had. You both walked through the maze of flowers that were in a row, strolling as you stopped and smelled some of the tulips and daisies. Tom was always in awe of you, watching as you giggled about a ladybug on your finger, and how pretty the flowers were.

It was around dusk as you two strolled, hand in hand. It was colder now than it was when you arrived, so you leaned into Tom a bit more. You both walked back to your original picnic spot, to gather up your belongings. As he began to move the basket to fold the blanket, you stopped him.

“Wait,” you placed your hand on his arm, prompting him to stop.

“Yes?” He asked.

“Can we watch the sunset, please?”

“Of course, I’d love that.” He sat down, watching you sit down next to him as well.

Wanting some warmth, you leaned your head on his shoulder. He put his arm around your waist, gently pulling you a bit closer to him. Your thighs and shoulders were touching, and you leaned into his touch further. He rested his head carefully on yours as you watched the sunset together.

The sky was golden with shades of pink and orange blending together in the sky. There was one cloud in the sky that was vaguely shaped like a heart, which Tom took as a sign that he was meant to kiss you now. 

Finally, here’s my chance, he thought. He lifted his head from yours, turning his head to look at you. The golden light bounced off your features delicately and made you look glowing. He looked at your lips, noting how the light reflected off it and made them look softer.

You felt Tom staring at you, and you looked up to see what it was. Before you could ask him what was up, he looked down at your lips and then back at your eyes.

“Love, um...” he trailed off, scanning your features.

“Yes?” You gulped.

“Can I, um, please kiss you?” He asked nervously.

You smiled. “Of course.”

“Hold on, I want this to be perfect.” He moved from your side to in front of you, so that it would be more comfortable than turning your head to the side. You saw him fidget as he tried to sit in the most comfortable position, as he struggled to think of the best way to go about this.

This went on for a few seconds longer, him shuffling around. You grew impatient, so you grabbed the neckline of his shirt and gently tugged him closer to you. You grabbed his face, cupping his face in your hands and placed your lips on his. He was taken aback by your display of affection, but after a second kissed you back. Your lips were interlocked, your bottom lip in the middle of his, gently laced together. His lips tasted faintly like mint chapstick and chocolate from the chocolate covered strawberries you both had consumed earlier, and were soft and smooth.

Pulling away slowly, you could feel his warm breath, a stark juxtaposition from the chilled air surrounding you. You felt him smile against your lips, him gently leaning into place a soft kiss against your smiling lips.

“Wow,” was all you could say as you two pulled apart, cheeks blushed.

“Well,” he paused, “was it a good first kiss?”

“Good’s an understatement, that was amazing.” You smiled, giggling as he leaned into kiss you again.

— —

mes anges (taglist): @scarletxwidow @sunflowerhollands @fangirlwithasweettooth @taciturnspidey @lmaotshollandd​ @musicalkeys​ @harrysleftchelseaboot​ @quaksonhehe​

[glacial-snowflakes]

Brief little moment | Remus Lupin x reader

Pairing: Remus Lupin x reader

Word count: ~1,1k

Warnings: death

Summary: Not everything goes well on a mission for the Order of the Phoenix

A/N: Hello everyone! I just wanted to say that the last time I published something was probably... 3 years ago? And I've been dealing with HUGE writer block and low self-esteem when it comes to writing... I hope it's not bad and you'll like it! Also English isn't my first language but I've been learning it for 15 years so I don't think it's bad. However, if you see some mistakes, please tell me about them so I can avoid them in the future!

(ignore the suit, shhh)

As you looked into Remus's eyes, for a brief little moment, you saw what future held for you. Still squeezing his big rough hand, which you pressed closer to your chest, you moved to a whole different place. You weren't anymore in a shabby shack that was frightening to the bone, which made your body so stiffen you had trouble with catching each breath. You left that filthy shack, where a few seconds earlier, you and other members of the Order of the Phoenix had been fighting for your life trying to wipe out the Death Eaters from the ground.

For a brief little moment, everything went silent. Instead of red and green flashes of spells and curses, warm rays of sunshine were caressing your now healed face. You put behind your ears naughty strands of your hair, which somehow escaped the tight bun you have worn on the top of your head that night. As you stood up firmly, the view of the sea got familiar to you. You were in your hometown again, far away from London, where you and your friends ended up after graduation from Hogwart. The beach, where you spent every summer, was your safe place. Whenever things got rough, you'd sit here, just by the seaboard. You'd sink your feet in the warm sand, breathe the salt breeze, let it mess with your loose hair. With your eyes closed, you'd try to sort out everything in your head, give some thoughts to problems that were crushing you down. That was your place to go when you needed to run away from life. 

And now, as you stood firmly with feet sank in the sand, you realized you weren't alone. A tall, young adult in an oldish jumper, was standing in the sea, looking at the beautiful sunset. You knew who that was - the man who was squeezing your hand a few minutes ago. You stepped into the cold water, but it didn't make you shiver at all. Small waves were gently hitting your knees as you both were facing the sunset. Without any hesitation, you took his hand in yours, immediately squeezing it so hard to assure yourself that he is indeed here, with you. 

"Remus..." As you turned your face towards him, you said quietly. "I-"

"Can I say something?" He jumped in, not letting you finish your thought. You just nodded with a weak smile spread on your face. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry for pushing you off, for ignoring my stupid feelings for you that I kept bottled up for so long. I was afraid of losing you. And n-now..."

"Shh... Don't. Don't blame yourself. I've always known it was a lost cause."  You whispered almost inaudibly. 

You didn't have any strength to continue. You were running out of breath. Life was slipping out of your grasp. Green and red flashes started to reappear in your eyes. The filthy coldness of obscure shack wrapped your body, bringing you down to earth. No, not yet. Please. You tried to blink it all away. You wanted to stay here for a little longer. Let me stay just a few more seconds with Remus. 

"I love you, Y/N. I will always love you." He finally looked at you. Tears were rolling down his cheeks as he confessed his long-held feelings. You were the first girl to sweep him off his feet, but fear of hurting you overwhelmed him to the point in which he decided to hide them deep inside. "I'm sorry you had to wait for so long..."

"No." You put your trembling hand on his cheek and wiped tears away. "Remus John Lupin, don't ever be sorry for that. Do you understand me?"

"Y/N..."

"Do you?" You repeated yourself, looking straight into his watery eyes. "Answer me."

"I- I do."

With those words, Remus softly put his forehead against yours. Right now, you could feel him in all his glory - the warmth of his body, his shaky breath on your face. Your heart was beating insanely in your chest, almost make you feel alive at that moment like it wasn't a daydream that kept you away from the end. Slowly, he got closer to you so he could connect his lips with yours. At that time, the whole world fell. The kiss was nothing like the fiery and passionate ones, which happens after a long time of waiting and keeping feelings inside. No, it was everything opposite. Slow and soft, comforting in a way that words could never be. Still holding his cheek in your palm, you started to caress his face with your thumb. Lupin placed his hands on your hips, bringing you even closer to him, so there was no space left between you two. Your hearts found the same pace, breathes mingled together. When you and Remus pulled out, just for a second, to catch the air that your lungs were running off, you whispered to him I love you more than anything.

You never got a chance to lose yourselves in each other arms again. As you confessed your love to the man that had a special place in your heart since the fourth grade, it all started to melt away. You could no longer hear the sound of waves that were racing against one another. The sand was not so warm anymore, and the salt breeze stopped messing around with naughty strands of your hair. Shabby wooden walls replaced the beautiful sunset that you admired a few minutes ago. Red and green flashes of spells and curses were no longer seen. Cold wrapped its freezing arms around your filled with pain body.

"Don't go... Please." Quiet, painful sob drew your attention. You barely opened your eyes to see Moony, bent over you, his watery eyes desperately trying to find any signs that you were still there with him, not giving up to death. "Y/N, I love you... Please, don't..." He begged as you breathed your last breath. The rage and grief left his body in a scream that could rip the sky up.

Thanks to that brief little moment, that carried you away just before you closed your eyes forever, you saw what future held for you and Remus. 

[scenecipriano]

Set The Spirit Free

THIS- is based on @teataearts post that they made of my post! It’s postception XD 

Tw: decapitation mentioned, depression mentioned, panic attacks, angst, and injuries, mentions of selfharm

The song that was used to help with the added lyrics can be found here it’s a cover by Alice Flare! 

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

Roman stumbles when he pops back into his room, tears blurring his green eyes as he drops down to his knees, a choked sob getting trapped in his throat. Why was he never enough? He tried to be perfect, to be the perfect hero for Thomas and his family, ‘But you’re not the hero are you?’ Roman covers his mouth as another sob tries to force its way through. 

The voice of his insecurities was right, he wasn’t the hero anymore, he hasn’t changed, he was still the jerk that Logan claimed him to be, and the annoying prince that Virgil always said he was. Now that Patton was agreeing with… with Janus, who knows what the fatherly side has thought of him all these years and just lied straight to his face. 

It wasn’t fair, he was the one that suggested Thomas talk to Lee and Mary Lee, he was the one to suggest they go to the callback, but he didn’t want Thomas to be a bad person! He wanted Thomas to be good, he wanted to make Patton proud of him! Not… Not scared or upset like when he… 

‘Roman you need to stop! You’re hurting everyone!’ 

He closes his eyes and allows tears to slip down his face.

“T-That’s all I ever do is hurt, people… T-That’s why fate’s cruel hand gave me the ability to use the hurt incantation… i-it’s not fair,” Roman cries as he grips his hair tight.

Roman tenses when a knock sounds at his door. 

“Kiddo? Can you let me in, we need to talk…” 

Panic ceases Roman’s heart as he pushes himself up from the floor, he stumbles slightly as he rushes over to the door that hid the imagination. He must have accidentally knocked something down because Patton yelped out and asked if he was okay. 

Roman throws the door to the imagination open and runs inside, he slams the door shut and runs as fast he can, ignoring the gloomy scenery that took over his usual sunny and blue skies. 

‘Oh, Roman, thank god you don’t have a mustache! Otherwise, between you and Remus I wouldn’t know who the evil twin is!’ 

Roman chokes back a sob as he dashes across the slowly dying field, he runs into his palace and into the throne room. 

He collapses onto his throne and buries his face into his hands, allowing his sobbing and tears to spill freely. 

‘Okay, now you’re just being a jerk.’ 

‘That lyric wasn’t… good.’ 

‘Pump the brakes Princey!’ 

‘Roman, I’m surprised at you!’ 

‘Roman’ll make you sick~!’ 

‘Thank god you don’t have a mustache, otherwise between you and Remus I wouldn’t know who the evil twin is!’ 

The voices of his friends, brother, and that snake kept repeating over and over again, causing Roman to grip his hair tighter and tighter. 

“C-Cut the strings of hope… C-Catastrophic deeds… burn all means to cope...and set the spirit free…” 

The aura in the throne room darkens, the single strip that Roman kept dyed bled into a dark shade of black, his green eyes turning into black voids as his tears continuously fall like a slow flowing stream. 

“Wither and decay… end this destiny, break these earthly chains… and set the spirit free…” 

The white of Roman’s uniform bleeds to ebony, his sash taking on a more crimson color as a crown made of obsidian forms over his head.

“The spirit free…” 

Remus was worried, ha! Him worried, what a shocker right? But he was worried, Janus filled him in on what happened after the latest episode. Everyone tried their best to get Roman to come out of his room but nothing was working. As the days past, Remus noticed how everyone was losing the normal glow. Virgil seemingly more anxious than normal, falling into panic attacks and snapping at everyone before immediately breaking down and apologizing. 

Logan was more snippy than usual, nearly biting anyone’s heads off that even dared to look in his direction for too long. The logical side chose to keep to himself in his room, which Remus was sure wasn’t any better, he saw the red marks on Logan’s forearms. 

Patton and Thomas were the ones that worried him the most, the two of them falling into a depression. Patton refuses to eat, only wanting to wear his cat hoodie and some pajama pants. While Thomas refuses to leave his bed and do work, no matter what Remus tried, Thomas wouldn’t budge, no matter how many times he’s shown up with a severed head. 

Janus was surprisingly handling things well, he may have the occasional outburst, but that wasn’t really uncommon with the snake. 

“Okay, this shit is getting ridiculous. Jan, you’re the self-care guru, can’t you just, go up there and kick Thomas in the ass and make him get up?” 

Janus sighs heavily as he turns the page in his book. 

“I could, but what’s the point? With Patton down and Virgil in high gear, nothing is going to get Thomas up and going. If Roman would just get over his temper tantrum then this wouldn’t be happening.” 

Remus frowns and snatches the snake’s book from him, he holds it up above his head when Janus tries to snatch it back. 

“You and I are going up there, I’m going to try something, well I’m going to try what I should have done a long time ago but I couldn’t resist showing Thomathy my head collection.” 

“Oh? And what’s that?” Janus asks as he tries to jump up to get his book. 

“I’m going to heal him.” 

Thomas groans when he hears two of his sides appear next to the bed, he tightens the covers around him. 

“At, nope not this time, bitch.” 

Thomas goes to snap at Remus when the intrusive side jerks the blankets away but stops when the duke places his hand on Thomas’s head. 

“Flower gleam and glow, let your powers shine, make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine.” 

Thomas’s eyes widen when he sees the glowing aura form around Remus, the white tuff of hair and his eyes glowing as well. 

“Heal what has been hurt, change the fates’ design, save what has been lost, bring back what once was mine… what once was mine~.” 

Thomas blinks when a warm feeling floods through his chest, for the first time in over a week he felt like his old self. He stares up at Remus with his jaw slacked. 

“How did you-?” 

“Doesn’t matter, Dee-Dee, go check on the others, I need to have a talk with Thomas.” 

Thomas looks over to Janus, he notices how the sides scales looked more lively than they were the last time he saw him. He waves to him as the snake-like side sinks out, earning a small smile from him in return. 

“You and I need to make a trip, I think I know what’s wrong with my brother, but I need you to get to him.” 

Thomas looks at Remus and furrows his brows. 

“Why would you want to help him? Don’t you two hate each other?” 

“No, we just… disagree on things are you going to help me or not?” 

Thomas sits up and gives Remus a determined look as he holds his hand out for the duke to take. 

“Let’s go be our prince’s hero.” 

Remus felt himself go rigid when he and Thomas appeared into the imagination, the sky was dark, all of the greenery was dried out and brown, deader than Anne Boleyn after she was decapitated. He turns to Thomas when he hears the man cough and gasps for air.   

“Wither and decay, end this destiny… break these earthly chains and set the spirit free, the spirit free~.” 

Roman’s voice echoed across the lands. 

“I-Is that from T-Tangled?” Thomas wheezes. 

“Yes, once I save Roman we’ll explain I promise but you need to go. Update the others, we’ll be back soon.” 

Remus waves his hand, sending Thomas out of the imagination. 

‘Please be okay, Ro…’ 

Roman was cold, he cold and numb, but a small part of him inside his heart begged to be free. His voice echoed as he sang the incantation, his tears felt as if they had frozen onto his cheeks as a pond would freeze in the dead of winter. 

“Ro-!” 

Someone was here, he could hear them, his singing was too loud. 

‘Evil twin.’ 

A pitched yelp and a light touch to his left arm caused Roman to come back to reality, he watches as his brother slides across the throne room floor. His right arm clutched tightly to his chest. 

“R-Remus… R-Remus!” Roman cries, the black fading from his eyes. His costume bleaching back into his normal white, the obsidian crown disappearing from the top of his head as he rushes over to his brother. 

He gasps when he sees Remus’ hand charred black and bent at an angle. Fresh tears form in Roman’s eyes as he drops down next to Remus. 

“I-I’m s-sorry, I didn’t… I-I didn’t mean t-to, I just… I-I wanted the voices to s-sto-.” 

“S-Shh, it’s okay… It’s okay I’ll heal…” 

Roman tenses up when his brother pulls him into a one-armed hug. He buries his face against the rough fabric of Remus’ shirt. 

“I-I’m s-sorry…” 

“I’m just glad you’re back…” 

[haloud]

day 7- uranus

Michael rolls his head over the back of the lawn chair, closing his eyes, letting all the tension out of his neck and shoulders. Then he blinks his eyes open, staring up at the stars. They’re faint, light pollution from the nearby town, his eyes too unadjusted thanks to the crackling fire at his feet. He’d have to stare straight up for a long time to pick out most of his favorite stars, but the Big Dipper is an old friend, so he’s content.

A car pulls up, and then there are footsteps on the gravel approaching him. He takes a second before looking up. He likes it, that people know they can find him here in the early night. Likes that people do.

“Hey, uh…Michael?”

Michael sits up so fast he cricks his neck at the sound of Max’s voice. Wincing, he rubs it and says, “Well look what the Chupacabra dragged in.”

“Um, yeah,” Max says, doing that awkward thing he does where he rubs the knuckles of both hands together, a nervous habit he’s had most of his life. Michael kicks the chair next to him.

“Sit down, stop hovering.”

Max sits. His long legs sprawl a little too close to the fire, but Michael doesn’t say anything that might get mistaken for nagging, for taking too much care. Anything that might start a fight.

“So I’m guessing you noticed I’ve, uh, not been around a lot lately.”

Michael gropes for a beer from the sixer at his feet and pops it with his brain, taking a deep swig. If Max wants one, he can ask for it, he thinks mulishly, then hands him one anyway.

“You could say that,” Michael says shortly.

“I’m…sorry. I…learned something about our history that I don’t know how to…”

“Oh yeah?” Michael drawls. “’Bout six foot one, beard oil connoisseur, really shitty accent he thinks no one can tell is fake?”

“No, not him. This is something a little closer to home. And I didn’t know how to talk to you about it, so I…but that wasn’t fair to you. Trust me, I’ve heard that plenty from Isobel and Maria. Even Alex dropped by the Pony to give me a piece of his mind.”

“Oh yeah?” Michael says, keeping his voice impressively level. The idea that anyone would stick up for him over Max ignoring him is…not something he knows what to do with.

“Yeah, man. Scary stuff.”

Max laughs without a shred of humor, chugging half his beer at once.

“Okay, now I’m worried,” Michael says. “Just spit it out, man. I’m sure it’s nothing worse than any other shit we’ve dealt with. I am numb to bombshells at this point.”

It’s a long time before Max says anything else. Michael finishes his beer, doesn’t grab another one, just watches the leaping flames in Max’s eyes.

“A few months back when Sheriff Valenti was after me for killing Noah, she sat me down to talk about all the ways I fit the profile. Y’know, uh, white male, 18-40, anger issues...One of those ways was, uh. Troubled childhood. Tried to tell her my childhood was fine, but she pointed out that wandering the desert naked at seven years old isn’t exactly a lack of trouble. Turns out she was the deputy on our case, back then.”

“Huh.”

Explains a few things about the way she used to look at him every time he got hauled in, before she just got used to it.

“She told me that she came to see us in the group home the day Isobel and I were adopted.” Max takes a deep breath.

Stop. Michael wants to tell him to stop. Doesn’t want, doesn’t need to hear what comes next. Doesn’t remember that day, doesn’t have to. He knows, enough, from what people have told him. Can hear the screams, see the red on the walls.

“Good for her,” he grunts.

“She told me that—fuck, Michael, there’s no good way to say this—she said that. That I was the one screaming and drawing on the walls, that you…you calmed me down, but…it was too late, and the Evanses had the wrong idea, and that’s why you were left...” Max chokes off, puts a hand over his eyes. Michael doesn’t have to have his and Isobel’s connection to recognize the awful emotion crushing him.

Michael opens another beer.

“Say something,” Max almost begs.

“Why.”

Michael has to swallow around the lump in his throat, his rabbiting heartbeat.

“Why even tell me this? What fucking good does it do? I can’t—you can’t—nobody can change what happened, even if I believe you—”

“You deserved to know.”

“I wish you hadn’t told me. Since when does the world give a fuck about what I deserve?”

Max flinches. It doesn’t make Michael feel any better. Just like putting a fist in his face wouldn’t make him feel better, and neither would screaming at the world for not being fair. He did a lot of that when he was a child and still believed in a few things that might be listening.

He doesn’t take another beer, if only because only something stronger would put a dent in the feelings he wants to drown, and he doesn’t keep any of that shit around.

“Whatever. It all worked out in the end, yeah? The guy who doesn’t murder people with his hands got the short end of the stick and was therefore responsible for disposin’ of a few less bodies. Highlight of my fuckin’ life, that one. You’re welcome.”

His mind doesn’t go easy on him, whirling with images and thoughts from Max tied to the bed, Max exploding and killing Father Davis to, absurdly, would Alex have ever noticed me if I was preppy Michael Evans. He laughs just to do something with his mouth that isn’t screaming, clenching his left hand into a fist and squeezing the knuckles, though it isn’t as much of a distraction now as it used to be, without the pain.

“Hey, you wanna thank me, make me some business cards—Michael Guerin, mechanic, gravedigger, and total fuckin’ mug—”

He breaks off into more laughter, until he’s bent double, clutching his knees and wheezing.

Max hasn’t said a fuckin’ word.

“Well?” Michael demands, straightening up, looking Max in the eye.

“I don’t know, Michael, I don’t know! I don’t know what to do with any of it, I don’t know what to do with, with you, with everything you’ve sacrificed for Isobel and for me, I don’t know how to be worthy of it, I don’t know how to thank you, I don’t, I don’t know.”

Michael rocks back in his chair, face pointed up at the sky again, drinking in the constellations until he covers his eyes with his hands and lets out a shout of frustration. Everything around them not bolted down lifts and inch and slams back down for emphasis.

Calmer, then, Michael says, “We were seven year old newborns. I’m pretty sure I didn’t do it for gratitude.”

“No, you couldn’t have. Which means you just did it on instinct. It’s just who you are. You protect us, and we, and we…”

“Don’t,” Michael cuts him off, wearily. He doesn’t need to hear any self-recriminations.

“No, Michael, come on. The things you’ve done, the ways you’ve been hurt, you…there aren’t words to describe the gratitude, I just...Thank you, Michael.”

The only sound after that is the crackling fire, and in that silence, Michael floats Max over another beer.

It would be easier if Michael could resent him. If he could want to go back and do it all over again without knowing in a place deep enough in him it could be his cells or a sickness that he’d do the exact same thing, go through all that hell a second time, a third.

“Nobody can change the past,” he says eventually. It’s something Sanders used to say to him any time he made a mistake, when he was just a kid and learning and not a certified ace mechanic who ought to know better. It’s weird, to Michael, right here and right now, having the wisdom of somebody else in his mouth.

This life hasn’t had all bad things.

“But we can try and change the future,” Max says. “I know I’ve done a hell of a job of it these past weeks, but I don’t want to pretend like we don’t know this. I want things to be better between us. I want to be a better brother.”

“Oh yeah? Like how?” Michael’s voice slips into mockery; he doesn’t try to prevent it. “Find me a job that you don’t want? Toss me a hand me down phone when you get an upgrade? Biweekly pity parties? Been there, done that, was given the t-shirt against my will.”

“Yeah, okay, maybe! Just not like that, man, we’re not kids anymore. Maybe we could, I don’t know, try to figure out what being better means together? No more sacrifices. No more charity.”

Michael picks at the label of his latest empty bottle. 

Voice quiet, almost inaudible over the crackle of the fire, Max says, “Dude, my heart only beats because of what you did for me. I came back to life knowing that. This just puts it into perspective.”

“I didn’t do that alone. Liz and Valenti were just as important. More. Rosa kickstarted you. I was just the assist.”

“Michael.” 

“What?”

“What do you need from me? What will help you understand how much you mean to Isobel and me. It’s not charity, man. It’s family. We keep saying that, but I think we need to do a better job defining it, you know?”

What does he need. It’s such a rare question he doesn’t know the answer.

“Free drinks at the Pony for life, a nice, cozy alibi, and your head on a pike instead of mine when Maria finds out.” he says.

Max laughs, the sound strained but genuine, his head thrown back to face the stars.