#but after the past few years I’m just v jaded

[xannerz]

honestly used to daydream abt having multiple degrees and being that sorta 🤪lifelong learner🎓 but law school devastated me so much I’m averse to the idea of taking cc classes for funsies now

[delopsia]

Ok so I’m assuming Rhett is 30 ish because Lewis is 30 (almost 31 in like a month) but like Rhett with reader who is younger than him by a good number of years (reader being 23 at youngest probably) what’s the relationship like? Was he super reluctant at first because of the gap? How do we meet him? How does the family feel? What if he’s her first “real” boyfriend? How would he react to reader asking him to take their v card?

When I tell you that this has been stuck in my head since you sent me this, oh my GOD. I've been meaning to write this concept with Rhett and Bobby for over a year and keep forgetting to 🤤 I got a little carried away. Hope y'all don't mind 🤍

Canonically, Rhett is twenty-four, but I think we as a collective have chosen to ignore that 💃 here's my proof post on that, if you're curious 💕 TLDR: Rhett was born June 12th, 1996, and OR S1 takes place in November 2020

For the sake of this post, I'll just leave it and say he's noticeably older than the reader ✨ I don't want to set a specific age for him and accidentally exclude someone :(

I like to view an older version of Rhett as someone who's still into the rodeos; he's gotten up there in the bull riding ranks, and though he's a year or two away from aging out of it, he's still up there kicking ass when you first encounter him. It's your first time coming to this rodeo, and you're not sure what to think when you see him leaned up against the fence in that quiet, rugged glory so many cowboys seem to carry. Older than the rest of the riders, so jaded by buckle bunnies that he hardly notices the ones trying to get his attention.

The first time you walk past him, he lifts the corner of his lip and nods his head toward you as if to say hello. Some simple little thing that gets you smiling, hoping to high heaven that your friends don't notice the sudden weakness in your knees. Three Sundays in a row, you go to the rodeo with your friends, and three Sundays in a row, you walk past him on your way to the food trucks. Three Sundays in a row, he smiles and nods his head at you.

You think he's just being nice.

Rhett just thinks you're hot.

But he's too tired of entertaining relationships with folks who only want him for what lurks beneath his championship buckle and to tell all their friends they fucked a real cowboy. It was fun when he was younger, but after a while, like most things, it gets old.

So when he sees you at the bar after a rodeo one night, he doesn't think too much about it. Sneaks a few glances at you out the corner of his eye, sure, quietly wondering how pretty his name would sound coming out of your mouth, but that's it.

Until some hotshot decides that he's going to give you hell while your friends are in the bathroom. And Rhett's within the perfect earshot to get rightfully pissed off. He's not particularly one to get into someone else's business, but he's also not too fond of this whole "badger someone 'till they give what you want" technique the younger boys have been employing recently.

"'s this guy botherin' ya?" He asks, in that gravelly voice, his elbow propping against the bar, speaking to you but his eyes never once leaving the steer wrestler giving you trouble. He's got a history with this kid; this isn't their first confrontation.

Of course, you don't know that when the younger man goes nose-to-nose with Rhett. But oh, if it doesn't make you the slightest bit dizzy when Rhett's jaw hardens at your meek 'yes.'

He only means to scare the guy off and go back to watching his buddy eat shit at the pool table, but your friends are taking forever to come back, and he's found himself offering to sit with you until they do. You're asking his name, and he's ashamed to admit that his heart jumps at the sound of his name on your tongue.

You don't seem to care all that much about the age difference, and Rhett's got no reason to be concerned; your age doesn't end in 'teen,' and you can legally drink, but he's found himself a touch hesitant to flirt with you. Isn't all that fond of breaking his heart over another sweetheart who stumbled into Wabang.

But you just keep running into each other. You're in line with him at a food truck; he sees you at a rodeo bonfire and chats you up until your friends are begging to head home. He's given you his number, and he's catching himself looking for you at the end of his rides.

And then he's busting his left shoulder after a ride, and somehow, he's found himself outside of the ambulance, being backed up against a wall as you kiss him hard on the mouth. It's the first kiss he's had in years, and your hands on his big chest are the sweetest thing he's ever felt. It's everything, and it takes every ounce of his will to draw your hand off of his belt buckle.

"Y' don't wanna do that," his whispered warning drips off his tongue like honey, and oh do you want a taste, "'m 'fraid if I let ya have me, I might follow ya 'round for the rest of my life."

He really doesn't know what to do when you smile and ask, "But what if that's what I want?"

How he survived that, he doesn't know. But a kiss-filled conversation ends in him agreeing to take you on a real, proper date. He takes you to Odessa's diner for lunch, pulls your chair out for you, and never lets you touch a door, and he gets along with you so well. It helps a lot that he's been on a funky little life path that has given him many of the same experiences as you. There's an age gap, sure, but his stage of life isn't too different from your own. Especially because he was a bit of a late bloomer with this whole 'adult' thing. The perks of being emotionally stunted by Royal...

Rhett doesn't differ that much if he's your first boyfriend; he's sickeningly sweet, regardless. No amount of experience or inexperience will stop him from going all out on you; if there's one thing his momma did, it was raise him right. You might as well be royalty. That being said, he's happy to take the lead (or give it up) depending on your experience level.

The relationship isn't all that different from how it would be if he was your age. There are some generational references that take time to understand, and Rhett's age shows the most when you try teaching him to use Instagram, but that's a given. He's a little bit smug when you're with him in public, especially at rodeos. He knows he's struck gold, and he intends to show you off as much as you're comfortable with. Protective, too. Those bull riders know better than to linger and try their luck with you. More times than you can count, you've overheard the whispered warning, "That one's Rhett's."

Rolls his eyes when you (affectionately) call him old man...

To be fair, Rhett does try to wait until a few weeks into your relationship to start getting intimate; he wants to take things slow with you, but then you're cupping him through his jeans, and he's breathless as you massage him through the fabric. And when you sit in his lap, wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, and grind your ass down into him? He's a goner.

If you're a virgin, then he's extra careful with you. Takes some more time to draw your clothes off, slow as he kisses down your belly until he can run his tongue up your sweet little pussy. But he's obscene about it, regardless. Groaning around your clit, letting you yank on his hair all you need. Frustrates you to no end because you're trying so hard to get him to fuck you, and all he wants to do is eat you out. Four times. Four times, you rile him up, and the most progress you make is getting his jeans off. He doesn't mean to upset you, he's just a whore for giving oral.

Until that one time at the bar when you hauled him into a bathroom stall, dropped to your knees, and wrapped your mouth around him before he could get under your skin.

That got him. You couldn't take all of him, gagging every time his plush tip hit the back of your throat, but his knees were shaking. Moans muffled by the palm of his hand. Trying his best to pull you off when he came and damn near hit the floor when you instead chose to swallow him down.

Again, if you're a virgin, then there isn't a huge difference in how he treats you when he takes your virginity. Not out of impatience or anything of the sort, but it's your first time together. He's going to treat you like a virgin regardless. Overusing the lube as he introduces you to a thick, calloused finger, watching your reaction for the slightest hint of pain. "'s this hurt? No? You sure?"

Annoyingly pushes the tip of his cock against you, then lets it slide through your folds, obsessed with the sight of it. But just as you're going to complain, he finally nudges inside, and it silences you completely.

If there is one thing about Rhett Abbott, it's that he's huge in more ways than one. Splitting you open in all the right ways, big hands stroking up and down your skin, whispering the filthiest things into your ears. "Think 'm almost too big for your lil pussy, angel." "Shhh, we'll make it fit. Jus' relax 'round me." "'s that feel good, sweetheart? Y' like bein' stretched 'round my cock like that?"

He ruins you either way. You never pegged yourself to be this insatiable, riding him in his truck, fucking him outside the bar, in bathroom stalls, cheap hotel rooms, bending over the hood of his truck while he had a flat tire. It's not your fault; Rhett's just that damn good, and he's somehow able to match you entirely. Rolls his eyes a little, sure, but he's just doing that to annoy you. "This old man fucks you that good, hm? Cute little pussy ain't satisfied 'till I pump it nice 'n full of my cum?"

Sometimes, he tells you he's too tired for sex and then turns around and pounces on you because he heard you whimper once and had a second burst of energy.

Which...is how your relationship gets found out. He's left a mark on your collar, and at some point, you bend down to pick up a fork you dropped, and it gets noticed. So you either got in a fight with a vacuum cleaner and lost, or you have a little someone.

The worst part is telling everyone how old he is. Rhett's got this funny charm where he looks younger than he actually is, and it nearly makes someone choke at the dinner table. And Rhett's not the best with people, but he's quick to make a good impression. He's like a fine wine; he's gotten better as he's aged.

You'll likely never meet Rhett's family, and if you do, it's a handful of times for no longer than two hours. After Rhett moved out, there's been tension every time he sees his folks. He was supposed to stay and spend his life helping the ranch, to honor his family loyalties, not run off and find love in someone else. Cecelia's sweet, doesn't say anything about the age gap, so long as you're both happy. Royal...you don't know what he said, but you had to grab Rhett by the belt to reign him in.

All that being said, Rhett's a sweetheart to you, regardless of your age gap. There are some differences that wouldn't be there if he was your age, but he's keen to work on those things together. Rhett doesn't fall in love often, but when he does, he falls hard, and he's going to give you the world. Even if you do call him old man every now and then.

Like I said...I got carried away

[carolmaximoffs]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAIT OMFG i can’t believe so many of the coolest ppl in my life that i know are aquas. ily you’re NINETEEN that’s wild!! you know i love a good roommates or friends w benefits fic gimme gimme gimme 😗💜

a/n: THIS IS SO LATE AGH...here is your long overdue wanda x reader roommates fic, my love! so sorry for the wait, but thank you for your sweet words and your patience <3 @subtlebucky

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

warnings: none really? maybe a curse. references to drinking, partying. jealous! reader. apologies to anyone named jillian, beck, or yasmine. sharing a bed, but not in THAT way. 

WHEN YOU WAKE UP, you smell coffee already brewing. You stretch leisurely as you pad into the main part of your shared apartment, faux-flirtatious smile already gracing your lips.

“Smells good, baby!” You call. The laughter dissipates from your body as you pause in the kitchen doorway. Wanda is indeed sipping coffee in the kitchen, but is also standing between the legs of a tall, rather buff girl you’ve never seen before who’s perched comfortably on your island. “Oh.”

"Jill, this is my roommate, Y/N," Wanda says, perfectly at ease. You wonder if your eye really does twitch at the sight of Wanda's hand on Jill's thigh, but you pray it's just your imagination.

“Hi, uh, I didn’t - we’re not - hi.” Your face burns as you duck past them, reaching up into the cabinet for your mug before realizing it’s missing. You whirl around, about to ask Wanda, when you see it. And Wanda must realize it the same time you do, because she gives you this tight smile and wide eyes. Jill sips idly from your favorite cup, the one with the funny handle and your initial in rainbow gradient. Pietro, Wanda’s brother, had gifted it to you a few Christmas’s back - you know he’d have stopped Jillian from using it. Instead, you fill the most boring mug you and Wanda own - black, with a white outline of Sokovia in a red heart - and send your roommate a sour look. “I’ll just...”

You jerk your head towards the bedrooms, and stalk off. Maybe out of embarrassment, but mostly out of stubbornness, you pretend not to hear Wanda apologizing and making excuses on your behalf as you leave.

.......

Two weeks later, just when things are returning to normal, it happens again.

Well, more or less. It’s significantly darker out now, and this time you’re putting leftover Chinese food in the fridge when the door bursts open. Wanda all but falls into your apartment, a sharp-nosed girl with a deep violet buzzcut hot on her heels. Space Army Cadet and your best friend are hand in hand, the latter barely tossing you a glance as she drags her guest down the hall. And yeah, you’ve seen Wanda bring people home before - even brought a handful of people home yourself. Hell, one of you two’s closest friends was an ex of hers; oddball physics major, Vis, had been Wanda’s lover for the notable first three years of college.

 Lately, though, you’d noticed this...pit in your stomach, carved a little deeper with each new bedmate. Every time you shook it off - it wasn’t any of your business what Wanda did in her free time. Was it because they were women? You catch yourself wondering, but no - you’d never had an issue with that, why would you start now? Shutting the fridge, you shuffle back to your room, turning your TV up to drown out anything from Wanda’s room next door.

The next morning, the eccentric friend is nowhere to be found, but you did find there was a severe lack of alcohol in your coffee as Wanda cheerily filled you in. Buzzcut’s name was Yasmine, she was in Wanda’s European lit. course, and they’d gone out for drinks to celebrate Yasmine nearing the acquirement of her masters. You stare into your cup and hum at all the appropriate points, choosing not to point out that it was only November and nowhere near graduating season. Maybe Yasmine was on the fast track - Wanda always did like the smart ones. 

You become so absorbed in thought you don’t notice at first that your housemate has stopped chittering away. When you look up, it’s to a pouty frown. You shift in your seat, suddenly uncomfortable. “What?”

“Are you...okay?” Wanda’s frown deepens, brows furrowed as she brushes a stray lock of auburn from her face and folds her arms over her chest. “We...You’ve been a little distant lately, I guess.” 

“I’m fine,” You say breezily, rising to your feet to dump the dregs of your coffee in the sink. Some irritating heartstring twangs at your tone - you hate brushing Wanda off, but what are you supposed to say? Hey, can you stop bringing girls home? I think I’ve caught homophobia. You repress a shudder at the mere thought as you move to sweep past her and get ready for your first class, but a small hand curls around your bicep.

“Just...don’t be a stranger, okay, kedvesem?” Darling. Swallowing the lump in your throat, feeling curiously parched, you can only nod. Wanda lets go, but you can feel her fingerprints burning like a brand even when you’re lying in bed that night.

.....

The holidays go off more or less without a hitch; there’s a very scary hiccup shortly before Christmas when you come home to find Wanda curled into Vision’s side on the couch, the pair of them sharing a blanket. But Wanda looks...as if she’s been crying? Love Actually is playing, Wanda’s go to Christmas comfort movie, and Vision is texting someone called ‘Peter M.’ with an alarming number of heart emojis, so you continue onward. 

Your subconscious must be looking out for you otherwise, because it’s not until New Year’s that you see Wanda with a mystery lover. Actually, you don’t see much of Wanda at all outside of Christmas, and even when you do, it’s always just the two of you at home. Of course, because of this, she insists on dragging you out for a New Year’s party. When her twin, Pietro, gangs up on you via Facetime, you give up arguing and steal a shimmery black slip from Wanda’s closet before flipping them the bird. 

Pietro arrives around 10 to pick the pair of you up, obnoxiously laying on the horn outside of your apartment building. Wanda trips several times as she tries to shove on her other heel and put lipstick on at the same time. Making it out the door is a whole other ordeal - after a short spat about Wanda needing a jacket, an awkward moment when the elevator doors open on some neighbors practicing for midnight, and finding Pietro just about to buzz in to get you, you and Wanda are sliding into the backseat of Pietro’s obnoxiously cramped sports car.

“Ladies, your prince, or princess, awaits!” Pietro announces grandly as you pull up to a shabby loft just a few blocks away. You can hear the music from the street, sighing inwardly as you force yourself to get out of the car. Wanda smooths out her flowy black pants - you keep your eyes trained politely above her shoulders to ignore the fitted, maroon sequined top with the plunging V-neck she’s paired with them. 

“I’m actually meeting someone here,” She says casually to her brother as the three of you make your way in. Pietro waves her off with well-wishes, but throws you a questioning glance. All he gets however is a shrug in reply, this is certainly news to you. He accompanies you to the makeshift bar where you fill a cup with copious amounts of liquor. It usually wasn’t your vice, but the strobe lights alone could be cause to drink. You made a mental note to ask whose idea this party even was in the first place. when you turn around, though, Pietro, too, has slipped off into the crowd.

So you do what one is supposed to do at sweaty, too-loud functions such as this one - push yourself from your comfort zone, get comfortably tipsy while you wedge yourself into the mass of bodies and move with strangers. As mentioned, liquor and strangers have never been favorite pastimes of yours, so once you finish off your second drink (maybe third - you deserved it), you set out searching for Wanda. Her glittery form is tucked into a corner with a small group you don’t recognize, but you definitely note that she’s in the lap of a tall, dark, and handsome type. She spots you before you can get to her, making excited grabby hands as you get closer. 

“Y/N!” The bubbly young woman squeals over the music. She leans forward to be heard better, and you gulp. “This is Beck! And Jade, and Marcie, and you remember Yasmine!” 

You offer only a wave and tight smiles as you, too, lean in further. “I’m gonna get an Uber!”

“What?” Wanda pouts dramatically, Beck snaking an arm around her waist to steady her as she jolts back in disappointment. “It’s not even midnight yet!”

“No, I know, I’m just not really feeling it, I guess!” Yasmine leads over to whisper something to Jade; it’s the furthest thing from your mind as Wanda reaches out to squeeze your hands understandingly. 

“I’ll see you later! Kisses!” You repeat the word weakly before shoving once more through the mass. The sidewalk and cool bite of the outdoors is a welcome respite - your driver doesn’t speak all the way to your apartment, and you give them 5 stars for it. After a cold, quick shower, you curl up in your fuzziest bathrobe with a cup of coffee and flick through Netflix. You know when midnight rolls around when the neighbors upstairs, hosting a party of their own, cheer and shout to each other. It can’t be 20 minutes later that your door is met with a tentative knock.

On the other side is Vision in the most disarray you’ve seen him in - he’s in pajamas, for Pete’s sake, hair and glasses askew over a chunky knit sweater. He’s supporting an equally-bleary but much more drunk Wanda, and passes her to you with a wrinkled nose.

“Y/N!” She crows, dissolving into giggles as you shushed her. “I wondered where you went.” 

“I told you I was coming home, bubs,” You mutter, hugging her back briefly before you notice Vision is still standing in your entryway. “Hey, how about you go get changed, and then I’ll make you some eggs?”

Wanda agrees, talking animatedly even as she walks away. You look back at Vision, smiling wearily. “Thanks for bringing her home safe, Vis. Did you want a cup of coffee, or...?”

“No, thank you,” Vision quips, polite as ever as he tugs his sweater down over his hands. He jerks his dimpled chin the direction Wanda had disappeared in. “Take care of her, please.”

“Of course,” You reply, instantly, brows furrowing. He nods briskly before turning to leave. “Thank you again.”

“Of course. Goodnight.” He’s almost to the elevators when you call a ‘Happy New Year’ after him, and that earns you a smile. “Happy New Year to you as well, Y/N.”

Back inside, you find Wanda spread eagle on her bed in mismatched socks, an old college hoodie, and the same underwear you’re pretty sure she wore to go out tonight. You poke her heel and she makes a frankly unhuman gurgle into the duvet. “How much did you have?”

“Nah a lah,” Is her muffled reply. “We’on dwink anymo’.” 

You realize she’s right, though you figured she was at least taking some of those dates to bars. Maybe not, though - Wanda was always a romantic. You push the mere though away and tug at the arm closest to you. “Yeah, I know. You’ll feel better if you eat something, though.” 

Her protesting grunts are less effective than when she kicks out blindly, narrowly avoiding your hip, and you huff. “Fine, I’ll bring the food to you.”  You make to leave, but she’s captured your wrist now. Wanda turns her head to make powerful puppy eyes at you. “Stay. Sleepy.” 

“I...yeah. Okay.” You were still a little tipsy in your own right - neither of you were college kids anymore, after all. Wanda’s smile was blinding as the pair of you made your way under her numerous layers of blankets. When she turned the lamp off, you wondered if she could hear your heart thundering in the dark.

“Y/N?” She whispers, just when you think she’s fallen asleep. 

“Yes, Wanda?” 

“I love you.”

You hum in acknowledgment, brushing it off as dreaming.

--------

Midday, you’re roused by someone laying across your stomach and shaking you awake. It’s Wanda, long lashes fluttering prettily as she rests her chin on folded elbows. You scrub sleep from your eyes as you croak, “Morning, sunshine.”

“Morning, Y/N.” She says your name with purpose - sort of always has, you realize. You’re running over last night in your head, and like a mind reader, Wanda answers your every question. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Still love you.” Wanda murmurs. You meet her gaze - completely clear, if not a little glazed over with absolute adoration. She pushes up a little, lips hovering over yours. They brush just barely when you speak, sparking like live wires. 

“I love you, too,” You breathe, and finally, finally, she kisses you. 

Things make so, so much more sense then.

[guqin-and-flute]

please tell me everything about yanxiyao. i am invested. nay, i am obsessed. an ot3 made up entirely of people who Deserved Better and they are GETTING IT. i don’t care if it’s deep, agonizing 3AM thoughts that make me question how i think about life and love and the mortifying ordeal of being known or if it’s pointless fluffbits scrounged up from your daydreams. GIVE THEM TO ME

AHA, this delighted me, I’m so glad!! [rubs hands] Okay, you have unlocked the avalanche, stream of consciousness, here we go. Boy howdy this got long, so full rambling under the cut. 

So I’ve already outlined how it starts with JGY, but you’ve probably seen that and I’m probably going to actually write a getting together fic at some point if the scenes start falling out of the sky into my head, so I’ll skip past that for the time being and start with the beginning of the triad. It begins in a most definite V with JGY as the hinge--Xichen and Yanli are very careful and considerate about each other’s time with him and try very hard not to overlap. Most things are separate--sex times, dates, meals (unless it’s everyone [siblings, et. al] eating together), sleepovers. 

However, something happens. Perhaps JGY starts asking to spend a day with both of them, perhaps the greeting conversations when Xichen visits grow longer and warmer and bleed into sitting together over tea, laughing, and forgetting the days plans. Perhaps the way Xichen delights in holding their daughter and playing so very patiently with her begins to completely charm Yanli.

Perhaps it’s when Yanli and JGY leave the toddler with Wen Qing and Jiang Cheng to go for a nice leisurely trip together to Gusu but the weather turns and they have to stay in an inn in the middle of nowhere overnight and Yanli’s health takes a sharp dive all of a sudden and JGY sends a Jin butterfly to tell Xichen the situation and that they’re going to be late. And it’s only after he’s sent it that it comes to his attention that this rinky-dink village’s doctor actually lives in the next city over and is out of town for his daughter’s wedding or something idiotic and won’t be back for days--he has learned this after a slog through the rain to said doctor’s empty house in said next-city-over and then returned to demand of the innkeeper what exactly he’s playing at, sending him out like that when he knew the doctor wasn’t there. And he’s in the process of not strangling the innkeeper when the door bursts open and it’s Xichen, completely waterlogged and anxious and JGY is appalled that he’s just flown through a thunderstorm but secretly very, very relieved he is here. 

And so they go upstairs and Yanli is incredibly happy to see both of them, especially since her fever has gotten worse and she is freezing. She wants snuggles and JGY reasons that they should both get in on it, because more body heat, y’know (he’s only trying to help, there are limited options, here) but he and Xichen both are completely soaked from traveling in the rain and they hesitate. Yanli is very much, ‘Oh noooo, the 2 hot men who need to snuggle me are covered in wet cloooothes?? Whatever shall we doooo?’ And the both of them are very seriously trying to tell her that Xichen will need to take off his robes if they’re going to be in bed together and is she okay with that and she’s like, ‘WhaAaaAaat? 😲 Holy cow, I guess I’ll suffer through :3c’ And they laugh and snuggle and sleep and the next few days is them taking care of her while she apologizes for getting sick and ruining the trip while they maintain that this is very nice, actually, minus her feeling terrible. They don’t actually visit Gusu and just end up spending time together in the inn while she recovers.

So, after that, Yanli and Xichen’s relationship becomes a lot more physically affectionate--they hug when they see each other, they kiss each other on the cheek, Yanli and JGY both snuggle up to his sides when they sit alone on the pavilion with the curtains drawn. The both of them have talked separately with JGY about whether this is okay, whether they’re overstepping any boundaries, and his response was basically an incredulous, ‘Are you joking? This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.’ And so the 3 of them spend more and more time together, and maybe there’s a night where they’re all in Xichen’s guest room at Lotus Pier, maybe having a few drinks, and they get onto the subject of how good of a kisser their A-Yao is and he protests saying that they’re biased because they haven’t kissed anyone else, so how could they know. And Xichen flushes and grins, “Aren’t you sly?” and JGY blinks innocently and says, “I don’t know what on earth you could mean 😇!” and Yanli is biting back a laugh and also a little pink but tilts her chin up invitingly and they do kiss and it’s lovely and JGY realizes exactly how much he enjoys that. And from then on, the Xichen’s guest room is more of a formality/decoy than anything else and their suite just so happens to get updated with a bigger bed because, y’know, reasons.

✨Vibes✨:

-WangXian matchmaking happens in earnest when YanXiYao first start their arrangement because now JGY has a concrete reason to find more excuses for more frequent visits from the Twin Jades

-Something about the 2 of them together makes it so that JGY can break down more easily--when it’s just Yanli, he still feels very protective and it’s hard to show his anger. When it’s just Xichen, he doesn’t want to cause him pain, and it’s hard to show when he’s hurting and despairing. When the three are together he is able to let them hold him more easily instead of withdrawing and isolating himself, and it frustrates him, but is also very good for him. 

-Xichen and Yanli have a very intense and deep affection for each other that rides the fuzzy line of romantic and alterous; they enjoy cuddling, kissing, they definitely aren’t averse to having sex with each other but it usually happens when JGY is involved in some way, whether everyone participates or it’s a voyeuristic situation in whatever capacity (though this may be impacted by the fact that he doesn’t live with them and most days, Yanli is pleasantly lukewarm about sexual activity in general, so who’s to say it wouldn’t happen naturally, in time?) 

-Xichen and Yanli have a relationship that has grown beyond just what they have with JGY and have a wonderful time talking together, giving each other gifts, and exchanging letters. There is a shared exasperation for JGY’s treatment of his health and often look to each other as back up (JGY is annoyed. They simply smile.) They don’t feel the need to really categorize their relationship besides the fact that they love each other, consider the other their best friend, are deeply fond of one another, and plan to all stay as they are for the rest of their lives. (Maybe, eventually, this will lead to a secret marriage ceremony, just for the 3 of them).

-It was after the inn/fever incident that she insisted Xichen call her A-Li

-All 3 have a devious streak and it makes for some very sweet 2 ganging up on 1 and showering them with kisses and affection.

-JGY and Yanli write him joint letters as well as individual ones of their own 

-JGY and Yanli view Xichen as an equal status, commuter sort of parent and ask for his opinions and advice on parenting things. Xichen loves the kids like his own and gets to essentially have a kid without the complicated feelings of them being his heir and going through the Lan’s strict practices and corporal punishment. He takes them at Cloud Recesses for a few weeks every year.

-Each of the men have their own guilt attacks, now and again, Xichen about his involvement being selfish (Heirs! Propriety! His uncle!) and JGY over wanting too much (Infidelity! Reputation! A-Li!), and Yanli--who has done enough soul searching and has very comfortably decided that, no, she is quite fine being happy--calmly sits them down, gives them tea, kisses their foreheads, and makes them hold hands with her as they watch their kids play. 

[thoroughlyskeptic]

OK.  So.  I have a dear friend who was always desperate to be in a relationship.  His home life growing up was a mess, mother abandoned the family after the third child was born, father and grandmother were left to raise the kids.  He never felt stable when it came to women.  So, whenever he started seeing someone, he became exactly what she wanted him to be.  He’d ghost his friends, stop doing the activities he liked, start doing everything his current girlfriend wanted.  Some of the girls were nice, so it wasn’t TOO bad, but there were a few… let’s just say I was gearing up for a fight at least twice.  (You manipulate my friend by telling him you (fake) miscarried his (fake) twin sons?  Fuck you.)  This happened over and over and over, and every single time his friends could SEE it, but we couldn’t DO anything about it.  It was YEARS, a ton of broken relationships, and a failed marriage (to a really great woman, but not the right one for him) before he figured it out.

I see similarities with Benedict Cumberbatch’s relationship with Sophie Hunter.

I only became aware of BC after S2 of Sherlock.  My husband told me about the show, and I watched it and was hooked on this unusual looking man with the funny name.  Thanks to the wonders of the internet, I was able to find out more about him. 

“The secretary with the jade hairpin is his girlfriend!” 

“His parents are actors!” 

“His niece is his assistant!”

SPARKLY SHOES!

LAMB STATUE ON THE RED CARPET!

“Look how much fun he and Martin Freeman have together!”

Photobombing U2!

Dorkybatch!

The horrible Caitlin Moran (ptooee!) fiasco when he looked so crushed, and Amanda was comforting him.

“Go pay attention to Egypt” signs while filming.

I could see a change when STiD came out- he stepped out of that limo and I thought “Oh.  He’s a moviestar now.”  But he still didn’t seem to take himself too seriously, goofing around on the RC with the rest of the cast etc.

Then The Imitation Game.  What a great film!  He was marvelous as one of my persona heroes. 

By then I knew he’d broken up with Olivia and had been seen canoodling with various other women around the world.  Good for him, ride that wave.

The Oscar run though, suddenly there was this woman who seemingly came out of nowhere, his one true love.  OK- I get it, sometimes true love happens fast, I can personally attest.  But… there was something different about this relationship.  In the past he wore his affection on his face and in his body, looking at his partner with unabashed adoration, clinging almost to her side.  His body naturally leaned toward her.  Now he seemed stiff and unsure.  Yeah- he would reach out to her, he would hold her back, but it was so stiff.

So who is this woman?  People started looking.  She’s an opera director, she’s won awards, she’s an avant garde actress, she’s a mime, she’s done this, or that, or some other thing.  But… it wasn’t all quite true, was it?  To the point that one organization had to put out a statement saying that yes, THEY won the award, but that SHE hadn’t been involved.  Whispers of “Harvey’s Girl” started circulating.  SoHo House.  Red carpet girlfriend to prove that even though he played a gay man, he was absolutely heterosexual.  Racy pictures of her suddenly disappearing from the internet. 

Then there was her behavior.  The red dress stomp off is still so vivid.  Who does that?  I’ve seen the excuses- “She’s shy!” “She was pregnant and sick and had to go throw up!”  I don’t think those are any excuses for poor behavior.  Showing up separately to events, enough so that when the clutch dropped in Palm Springs you can SEE that he was completely thrown off by the bump reveal.  Not just that he was surprised she was being so blatant, but that he was surprised there was a bump AT ALL.

People started digging further, and the timeline started to unravel. “They met on Burlesque Fairytales!”  “They’ve been together for 13 years!”  “They’ve known each other since they were teenagers.”  “They started dating in May/June/last year!”  But why did her ex-boyfriend keep popping up?  What about the women he dated after Olivia?  What about Olivia herself? 

Then that bump.  Look- I firmly believe she was pregnant.  What I do NOT believe is that she gave birth in June.  To be as big as she was on the honeymoon and then the EXACT SAME SIZE in May?  Does not compute.  That pesky timeline again.  A first-week-of-June birth would put conception in early to mid-September.  There are photos that suggest the couple wasn’t even on the same continent at that time.

Jump to now.

Dorkybatch is gone, replaced by ridiculously expensive watches (Yes- I know they’re for Dr. Strange, but it’s still off putting that someone who used to be so invested in social justice … does that) and rambling interviews about breathing (all the while staying in an exclusive resort bungalow.)  Grins and hugs on the RC for his costars turn to stone face and awkward hand holding (or grab assing) with his wife.  (I’m not saying he never smiles at her, but it is a marked difference)

I’ve noticed over the years that if one of the people in a relationship is 180* different with their SO than they are with other people, or that much different than they used to be before- that’s a red flag.  You can try to spin it that he’s matured since he became a father, or he’s so annoyed with his fans’ dissection of his relationship that he freezes up when he’s in public, but I don’t think that’s it.

Speaking of fans.  Don’t you think it’s odd that in the past 7 years we’ve seen him out with his family only what- 3 times?  You cannot tell me that with a fandom that maps his favorite spots and flies around the world to see him that nobody, NOBODY has ever seen the family and taken a picture.  “Oh, but they’re respecting his privacy!”  I don’t buy that.  (Used tissues and wine glasses ring a bell?)  People have taken photos of Rihanna at the grocery store.  Chris Hemsworth at the beach with his children.  Milo V’s short shorts practically broke the internet.  Just look at DeuxMoi and you’ll see that people have no shame about taking sneaky photos.  This tells me one of two things- either fans have taken pictures and passed them around behind the scenes (unlikely- they would have been leaked) or that nobody’s ever seen the family together.  How?

Do I think he’s being mind controlled, has been drugged, is somehow being influenced by the Illuminati?  No.  But I do think he’s changed.  And there’s nothing we can do but watch.

************************************

Thanks for responding.

[missturtleduck]

The Girls of Ba Sing Se - (Sokka x f!Reader) Pt.1

Part Two│Part Three

Toph Beifong is her parents’ greatest secret, so they require the upmost discretion. That’s where Y/N comes in; as Toph’s etiquette teacher, she lives within the Beifong estate, training the sole heir in being a suitable lady of society. However, when the Avatar comes knocking, Y/N respects her duty to Toph. In leaving the estate, she’ll become a great asset in the war, and a greater asset to her friends around her.

Knelt in her white robes, Toph Beifong tapped the floor in front of her with two fingers, gracious but silent for the tea that she had been poured.

“Good, Toph,” Y/N smiled, pouring her own green tea. “I’m glad you’re keeping up your basic etiquette. Your father will be very pleased.”

The blind girl snorted into her cup, sipping at it as gracefully as she could manage. It was a loud enough sound that it woke Kuai from his slumber; yawning, the wrinkled dog shuffled along the floor to come to Toph’s side. A grin overtook the apathy on her face as she fussed the dog’s head. As much as Y/N knew Toph had little need for a guide dog, it was comforting to know that she had Kuai if she ever felt alone in that big estate.

Placing down her empty teacup, Toph placed her hands innocently in her lap. 

“May I be excused for today’s lessons?”

“Of course, Toph.”

The noble stood, not very tall above the kneeling Y/N, and bowed low. She left, Kuai nipping at her heels as she went. Once she had left the room, Y/N’s pleasant smile fell from her face; she knew where Toph had been going for the past few weeks. Everyone who anything about Earth Rumble knew it was as coarse as river shingle, often dangerous for its competitors. The Gecko, the Hippo, and the Boulder? They were all bad news, and yet Toph had handed their egos back to them in swift and brutal fashion.

Y/N cleared away the dishes from tea. What if Toph got hurt? Or, perhaps even worse, what if her father found out? These thoughts had plagued her mind for a while now, leaving her torn between going to Lao, or dealing with it herself.

With the tea room clean, Y/N stepped into her quarters to prepare for a pleasant evening stroll. Loosening her hair from its rigid bun, it fell in relaxed tresses past her shoulders, easing the tension headache creeping in. On the inside of her jade cuffs, she slipped a small blade on the off-chance things turned messy on the streets of Gaoling. Throwing a thin cardigan over herself, Y/N set out to leave the house. Before she reached the door, a whine caught her attention.

Kuai was lying under a great circular window, the gentle sunlight not cheering up the gentle dog, nor the affection he was now receiving from Y/N. Perhaps it was sad look in those big brown eyes, or how his jowls seemed to emulate a crying face, but she convinced herself that bringing Kuai was a necessary thing to do. He could track her with his nose, she had argued. Clicking her tongue in command, the lump of a dog bounded to her feet and sat patiently, tail thumping a din against the floor.

Opening the door out into the gardens, Y/N stifled a laugh as Kuai practically fell through the open doors and onto the grass. He became caught up in the euphoria of rubbing himself into the peonies that he almost forgot she was there. Y/N chided him, struggling to keep the grin from her face. Now, they were ready to leave.

“Y/N, a lady shouldn’t be venturing out by herself,” A guard, one Y/N was friendly with, tutted.

“Lu, I am no lady,” She laughed, brushing off any status imposed onto her. “I am just a fifteen year old girl excited to spend my time drinking good tea in the city. And I have Kuai!”

Lu allowed the estate gate to be opened, albeit with some reluctance, Y/N leaving almost sated of the worry that tormented her mind. The streets of Gaoling were safer in the daytime, as with most places in the Earth Kingdom, but she had understood Lu’s objection. At any moment, the Fire Nation could launch an attack; the entire city buzzed with a quiet anxiety. Shops were closing earlier, people keeping their doors and window locked. What the city, nor the Beifongs, didn’t know was that if they truly launched an attack, Y/N could keep Toph safe. How, she couldn’t reveal to them.

It seemed that beyond being cute, Kuai had purpose. He hurtled far in front of her, darting back and forth at ungodly speed; he had found Toph. Following the dog – and cursing him for running so fast – she came across a tunnel burrowed deep into the side of a mountain. Its artificial shape, nothing like the natural caves in the area, told Y/N everything she needed to know. Here, she would find her earthbenders.

The dog bristled, whining lowly as he pawed at her leg. She hushed him, scratching behind his ears before venturing into the dark. Brushing her fingertips against the carved-out rock, Y/N guided herself through the dark until she could barely see a glimpse of orange light – flame.

As with most places in the Earth Kingdoms, the entire arena was formed entirely of rock. It was grand, if you ignored the complete absence of colour or natural light, big enough to make the largest warrior feel quite small. The bottom rows were completely devoid of people, bar three kids her age, maybe younger. They weren’t earthbenders. Y/N frowned, deciding to go with the earthbenders’ flow, clambering up with Kuai to one of the top rows.

She was right to do so.

A scream alerted the dog and girl duo, the boy with the wolf tail leapt back away from a large rock that had smashed into the seats a hairs breadth away from him. Perhaps she would have snorted in amusement if it weren’t for the shock.

“Welcome to Earth Rumble V!” A voice called above the commotion – though it seemed to only cause more, that being of the rowdy, excited type. “I am your host, Xin Fu!”

The sinewy man seemed as excitable as the crowd as he commentated on the matches. Each fighting man seemed to grow larger and more muscular as the night proceeded on with more matches; they fought dirty, and most were as immovable as the element they could harness. Well, all except the Fire Nation Man. He was a pitiful excuse for a warrior, Y/N decided.

As Kuai began to growl under her feet, Y/N perked up her head up.

They called her the Blind Bandit. Toph, her student and friend, stood proud in what short stature she had, a championship belt held high above her head. Not in her white robes, she wore proud green, a stark emerald. Her hair fell into her face, uncouth from an etiquette standpoint. Spirits, she was a little girl, tough but still so little. She may have had the best earthbending teacher that money could buy – money not being an object for the Beifong family – but it didn’t stop Y/N whispering a silent prayer, pulling Kuai onto her lap.

“The Boulder feels conflicted about fighting a young, blind girl.”

‘Yeah,’ Y/N thought, a sudden surge of rage filling her, ‘So you should.’

Toph, the meek socialite she was, curled up into herself, a quiver crossing her lips. “Sounds to me like you’re scared, Boulder!”

“Spirits, give me strength,” Y/N sighed, rubbing a hand across her face.

The ensuing fight was something spectacular. Every movement Toph made seemed entirely instinctual. It was over so quickly that Y/N almost thought she’d missed the fight. In a quick flurry of movements, Toph had humiliated, beaten, and confined the Boulder between three stalactites. Knuckles tightening as she grabbed the ends of her sleeves, Y/N didn’t know whether to be impressed or terrified. The terror, though, was not the kind etched on the Boulder’s face, but the kind that stirred in her stomach, boiling up nausea as she thought of what may happen if the Beifongs found out that their sweet daughter was an underground earthbending master.

Xin Fu entered the ring, provoking the crowd into roaring cheers as he held up Toph’s hand in victory. In his other was a hefty bag of what was likely gold; the crowd fell deadly silent the moment it was offered for a victory against the Blind Bandit.

“What?” He sneered, his confidence grating Y/N the wrong way. “No one dares to face her?”

Before Y/N could stand to volunteer, the youngest of the group nearly struck by a rock at the beginning of the tournament stood. “I will!”

Perhaps it was her imagination, but Xin Fu’s expression shifted to something sinister, only for a second before plastering on a smile. By Kuai’s growl, she assumed she was right. As the two fighters circled each other, they spoke, though not loudly enough for Y/N to hear way up away from the arena. The fight lasted longer than that with the Boulder, worrying Y/N and pleasing the audience. It was the final blow, however, that left Y/N speechless.

The boy, shorter and brighter looking than Y/N, pushed Toph off of the ring with the air.

He was an airbender – the Avatar.

Eyes widening, Y/N beckoned Kuai to follow as she hurtled down the seats as gently as possible. Calling after her, she worried that the Avatar’s shouts may have drowned hers out, but Toph merely stood in the mouth of the tunnel, seemingly ignoring the airbender.

“Bandit,” Y/N cut in, putting on her most menacing face. “We have a lot to talk about.”

As Toph closed the tunnel, cutting the two girls and their dog off from the tournament, Y/N could hear the indignant whining of the other boy, accusatory towards the girl who ‘cut off the Avatar’. She snorted, walking alongside the earthbender at ease now the fighting was done.

“So…” Y/N cleared her throat, a small smile playing at her lips. “Underground earthbending fights? Not very ladylike.”

Toph scoffed, fighting a laugh. “It beats staying home and reciting tea ceremonies.”

“I love a good tea ceremony!”

“That,” the girl said, “Is sad.”

There was an air of silence between them for a moment.

“Y/N, you won’t tell my dad, will you?”

At that, Y/N grasped Toph’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “No, but I will be coming with you if you decide to fight again. I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt.”

Toph laughed, clearly invincible, undamaged from her bruised ego. They snuck back onto the grounds easy enough, retiring to their separate bedrooms. Etiquette lessons seemed somewhat useless knowing that Toph was possibly the greatest earthbender Y/N had ever seen. On top of seeing the Avatar alive and in the flesh, the day had taken such strange turns.

Y/N had no idea of what was to come.

[sheabuttahwrites]

[ I Know ]

. two : the connection 

one

6:02am

I was dreaming about Omari again. For some reason, he came to me often while I slept. He had picked me up, as he usually did, but, somehow I knew that I wasn’t coming back this time. I was clueless as to where we were, but I also didn't have a single worry. I was with O and I was safe. That, I was sure of.

We were flying through the air, which wasn't odd for me because I’d had more than a few dreams where I could fly. Still, there was a difference. Whenever I’d be flying, I was usually doing so because something or someone was chasing me and I had to get away. And it was usually very dark as well. But now, I didn't discern any danger and everything around us was shining so brightly. I’d also never been able to actually stay up there. Whenever I’d stop flying, I would immediately start to float back down. That wasn't the case here. We stopped and were just suspended in the sky with no effort. He laid me down on what felt the way I thought a cloud should feel and, starting at the top of my head, he kissed my scars one by one. In some miraculous way, they all disappeared with a single touch of his lips. Amazed, I smiled and watched as he continued to make his way down my bare body. At first my nudity confused me, as did the lack of discomfort that came with it, but, when he reached my Love, I no longer cared. My grin slowly fell as he spread my legs and, without an ounce of hesitance, he began to spoil me with gentle kisses. I was stunned, but it never entered my mind to stop him. I had to admit, it felt good.

“Oh my... aaah,” I moaned softly, lacing my right hand with his left. It was almost like I could actually feel his tongue slipping around a part of me that only myself and Cam had ever touched. However, in this illusion, I had no problem with that fact becoming fiction. Though I had moved past the initial shock, unfortunately, I could sense my sleep coming to an end. He started to fade away as my eyes softly fluttered open, but there was still someone between my legs. And it wasn't Omari. I looked down and Cam had my thighs stretched wide, one arm across my stomach, licking the shit out of my pussy. I tried to get away, but my every pursuit was quickly shut down. Whenever he realized that I was trying to escape his firm grasp, he licked faster, sucked harder, rubbed deeper. 

No matter how hard I fought, my body began to respond on its own, grinding into his face. Before long, my hips were in the air, he was buried between my lips, and I had relinquished all control. I gripped the couch with both hands in an attempt to evade the floor. “Fuuuck,” I whined, so upset with myself. Then the self betrayal reached a new level as I clenched my eyes, having the most regrettable orgasm ever. I hated giving him the satisfaction that, even at a time like this, he still had the power to make me cum. My body fell into the cushions and I hid my face, embarrassed. I don't know what the fuck he thought this was doing, because he hadn't swayed me whatsoever. I felt no different about things than I had before. 

He came up with tears in his eyes, apologizing and telling me how much he loved me. “You know I love you. With my whole heart, Jade. I'm sorry.” Seeing him cry shook me up a bit, I won't lie, but I was so far away from succumbing to his will.

He came closer and laid his head on my chest. Not even the smallest part of me welcomed the contact, and I was not about to let this be over so easily. “It's not... that simple.” He looked up and I reached to turn on the lamp behind us. “Look what you did to me.” My neck held marks from his fingernails, my scalp was bruised, there were noticeable rug burns on my knee and both hips, my face was so badly swollen that a small cut had formed at the corner of my mouth, and there was blood stuck on my gum line and between my teeth. 

“Oh my God.” He quietly examined every injury, running his fingers gingerly over the damage, seemingly frightened by my appearance. 

“This is love, Cameron?”

“I'm so sorry, baby. I swear, I'm gonna work on being better. I don't wanna do stuff like this to you. I'ma get help.”

I didn't fall for any of that shit. Sadly, this was the routine. I'd get my ass beat, then I'd get fucked, next was the apology and last came the promise of counseling. A promise that he never kept. This was my life now. A life that I could not have imagined in my wildest dreams.

Cameron McKinley Taylor. He wasn't always this way.

We had been together for five years now, the first three being probably the most happy years of my adult life. He was always such a sweetheart. He'd call or text just to hear my voice or tell me he loved me, bring me flowers for no reason; you know, just little things to show me he cared. We would talk for hours about anything, and nobody could make me laugh as hard. We were just in tune with one another, damn near inseparable. But, shortly after the situation became a little more serious, after we moved in together, everything changed. Out of nowhere, he just switched up on me. All of the sweetness was replaced with constant anger. It started with him taking my car. To this day, I still have no idea what he did with it. Without a ride of my own, though, I couldn't go anywhere or do anything without him. But he somehow always found a way to accuse me of stepping outside of the relationship. Which I never understood. I made the decision to stick it out, thinking this behavior was only temporary. However, after two years had passed me by, I learned a major lesson; fun wasn’t the only thing that made time fly. Misery did it just as well. 

He moved us to Los Angeles from Atlanta about a year and a half ago for a chance at better career opportunities, he'd claimed. But, the more thought I gave it, the more I began to believe there had been some malice behind his motives. I was taken so far away from my family, or anyone I knew for that matter, that I had no choice but to spend all of my time with him. I wasn’t even sure what it was that he did. He had a couple of degrees and he was working for some company before we came out here. Whatever he was doing now required him to leave home for months at a time, usually around two, and his salary was ridiculous. That was where my knowledge ended. I had my suspicions, but I knew better than to question him about anything. I'd just convinced myself that as long as the bills were kept current and we weren’t living on the street, everything was ok. He wasn't the least bit stingy with his leftovers either. He just made sure to monitor my transactions very closely. Shopping had become a way of life for me. It was basically my therapy.

Almost as soon as we got to Cali, he left for work. For a whole week, I stayed inside, afraid to leave the house. Not only was it a new scene for me, but I was heavily intimidated by the fact that I wasn’t familiar with anyone in the entire state. Then one day, feeling unusually courageous, I just got an Uber. After a little convincing, along with some financial compensation, that lady drove me all over LA.

I met Omari that day.

I walked into this sneaker boutique just to look around and there he was, standing with four boxes beside him and still browsing.

I recall thinking he had a nice deep brown, caramel complexion with really smooth looking skin. His hair was how he always wore it; in neatly twisted braids that ran straight back, falling an ample amount past his shoulders. He had a goatee then and it was groomed perfectly to match. Likewise, he was dressed nicely in jeans and a crisp white v-neck tee that hugged his toned arms and chest perfectly. The black diamonds in his ears glistened in the sunlight, as did the gold beaded bracelet around his wrist. His feet held a pair of black high top Chucks and I caught a Louis Vuitton belt peeking from underneath his shirt right before I turned to mind my own business. Long story short, he was very well put together... and so damn fine.

I still remember like it was yesterday.

“Um, I know it’s a lot, but can I get these in an 8?”

“Oh, no problem.” The associate, who had just been helping him, eagerly studied my selections. Her memory must've been outstanding, because I definitely would’ve had to take my phone out and snap a pic. “I'll be right back”.

I smiled, thanking her as I resumed my search. I wasn’t exactly interested in anything else, I was more so making the conscious effort to keep myself distracted. I had briefly considered taking a seat when, from the corner of my eye, I could see him starting to come over. I immediately threw all of my attention to a pair of kicks in front of me. They weren't even cute, but that was neither here nor there. I just needed to conceal the fact that I had been checking him out something serious on the low.

“Hey,” he rasped, once he was standing next to me. I turned to him and he had the cutest grin on his face. I couldn't help but smile back. Plus he looked even better up close. 

“Hey.”

“I don't mean to interrupt, and I know you don't know me, but… I just had to come over and say hello. You are beautiful.”

Completely caught off guard, I blushed almost instantly. My ears weren't even tuned for that type of compliment anymore. He was serious, too. I took my gaze down for a moment, using a slight laugh as part of my recovery. “Thank you.” And upon realizing that I liked this guy and didn't want his good smelling self to walk away, I decided to go ahead and introduce myself. “Jade.”

“Omari. Nice to meet you.” He extended his hand to me and I obliged, giving it a shake. 

“Nice to meet you, too.”

“So, um, where you from? If you don't mind me asking.”

“How you know I'm not from LA?” I jokingly asked. I was nowhere near being from LA, I  just wanted to see what he would say. 

“I can hear it in your voice.”

I chuckled, fully aware that my accent had given me away. “Yeah, I'm from Georgia.”

“I knew you were from somewhere down south.”

“Yep. So, you from here?” I returned my attention to the wall of shoes in front of me, trying not to stare.

“Yeah. Been here all my life.” 

“Ok,” I nodded. “I've only been here for a couple weeks.”

“Oh, for real?”

“Yeah. Today is actually my first time getting out of the house, believe it or not.”

“Well, maybe I can show you around my city sometime.”

And, just like that, I was back. “Maybe…” 

I hadn't been able keep him out of my sight for more than a few seconds, but his proposition had warranted at least a glance; I had to see if he was playing around. The deliberate eye contact I was met with only erased some of my doubt, still his confidence was a turn on for certain. I was smiling at him, he was smiling at me, and I was more than sure that he was in possession of the prettiest smile I had ever seen. His lips were on point, too; nice and full with a couple beauty marks adorning the bottom one. I found myself licking my own lips, wondering if his were as soft as they looked.  

Right in the midst of a moment that needed to be disrupted, the saleswoman walked over toting my five boxes effortlessly. 

“Thank you,” I told her, not just for the footwear, but also for breaking me away from whatever this was. I mean, I was stuck. 

“You're welcome. I'll be at the counter when you're ready, and let me know if you need anything else.”

“Ok.” I sat down on the bench and came out of my left shoe, grabbing the first box from the stack. “So, Omari…”

“Yeah?”

“You do this often?” I quizzed, slipping a fresh sneaker onto my foot; undeniably one of the best feelings in the world. 

“Do what?”

“Just walk over to random women and start conversations.” I grinned up at him standing beside me and he chuckled.

“Well, if I can be honest, you caught my eye as soon as you walked in. I like your vibe. And you looked so nice standing over here, I couldn't leave without at least getting your name.”

He was such a gentleman, and quite the charmer. He had a way with words, for sure. My guard was still very much intact, but his company didn’t make me uncomfortable. In fact, the interaction was rather flattering. I didn't know the kid still had it. 

“And now you know my name and where I’m from.”

He laughed, dropping his head. “You right. But you know they say good things come in threes.”

“Yeah, I’m familiar.”

“So, now I need your number to complete the trilogy. I mean, if that's cool with you.”

I can’t lie, I was tickled. He was that cute, corny funny I was very fond of. “Yeah,” I agreed, without even a second thought. Despite the obvious, I didn't wanna say no. “You like these?” I stood and we both looked down at the deep pink suede Nike Blazer I had been wearing. 

“Yeah. They cold with the gum bottom.”

“Right?! I was thinking the same thing. I'ma get 'em.”

We made small talk until I'd tried on my last pair. Then the conversation carried on while he tried on a few more. The six or seven other people in the store probably thought we knew each other. He was surprisingly easy to talk to for a complete stranger. We eventually exchanged numbers and, ever since that day, we'd been down like four flats on a Cadillac.

He was the only friend I had.

[lassieposting]

Vile and Mevolent, for the romantic headcanons?

Who goes to bed late and who wakes up first?

Both Vile, because he very rarely sleeps through the night. He'll go to bed whenever Mevolent does, but he has nightmares and a hard time switching off the hypervigilance, so someone coughing three rooms away or walking by at the far end of the hall or laughing in the gardens will startle him awake and he'll struggle to resettle. A lot of the time he gets up multiple times during the night, then comes back to bed once he's confident there's no threat. The sunrise, the dawn chorus, the fire in the grate burning down to embers (less crackly noise, more cold), and increased footfall in the hallways will also wake him up, so he doesn't normally sleep past when the servants start their work.

Mev, on the other hand, sleeps like the dead, and only gets up at a reasonable hour because he's got shit to do - if he's got the time to lounge in bed till noon, he'll do it. He sleeps through most of Vile's nighttime activity, but when it does wake him, he can usually calm Vile down enough to coax him back to sleep.

Who sings during daily activities (shower, cooking, etc)?

Mevolent. Some of the Faceless hymns are catchy. He's got an okay voice, so Vile doesn't mind. It amuses him how upbeat some of the tunes are for songs that are mostly about the faceless ones laying waste to the planet, though.

Who takes care of the other on sick days?

Mevolent. Not that he has to do it often - they're both incredibly tough, and sorcerers are immune to most mortal illnesses, so the only thing likely to bench either of them for more than a few hours is a Serious Injury. And? Mevolent is a sensible, rational man. When he has a Serious Injury, he goes to Nye, because Nye is by far the most competent surgeon on Mevolent's staff, and Nye fixes him up.

Vile is not a sensible, rational man. Vile is a torture survivor. He won't let Nye get within thirty feet of him, because Nye was the one advising Serpine on how much more he could take before it killed him. He's wildly unpredictable when he's hurt, because he goes into self-preservation mode, and everyone around him becomes a threat. And to make everyone's lives even harder, he has a tendency to mask an injury and try to fix it himself, because he's surrounded by the same people who tortured him and he cannot afford to show weakness. So once Mev wins his trust, he's pretty much the only person Vile will let take care of him when he's hurt.

Who gives unprompted massages?

Vile. Mevolent spends a lot of time sat at a desk, and gets the stiff neck/shoulders/back accordingly. Vile will come up behind him to look over his shoulder at what he's doing, and absent-mindedly do Mev's shoulders while he's at it.

Mev will give massages too, usually to make Vile go all drowsy and relaxed after a few rough nights of little sleep, but he asks first.

What activity do they do together in sync?

Compensate for each other's weaknesses in battle. For Mevolent, this means keeping an eye on Vile's blind side: usually, his magic does this for him and gets him around just fine, but a battlefield is so chaotic that it's difficult for him to tell his fighters' life energy and the enemy's apart. For Vile, this means being fast enough to hit anything Mevolent can't. For all that he's "slender", Mev is a big, strong guy; he's the tank, and his equipment shows it: heavy armour, massive greatsword. But the tradeoff for that sword's powerful swing is slower speed. Vile is smaller, faster and his armour moves with him, so he'll take out anything that gets too close to Mev before he has time to swing. They're a highkey unstoppable team in battle.

Who gives nose/forehead/hand kisses?

Mevolent. Vile is more neck/shoulderblade/wrist kisses.

Who gets jealous?

Both of them, but Vile is the one you really don't want to cross; he's lost everything he cared about before and it completely broke him, so he absolutely will not tolerate competition. There's a rumour that the real reason Serpine tried to pull off a sloppy assassination - when he's always been so meticulous about his schemes - and then fled the city is because he found out that when Mevolent asked what gift would prove his love, Vile asked for Serpine's head. It's also a popular theory that Serafina's death, officially a "tragic accident", was in fact the deliberate removal of a rival (although, the court is divided on whether Nef or Vile arranged it).

Mev is a lot more chilled about his jealousy. It comes with having the power to grind your rival's entire bloodline to dust whenever you feel like it.

Soft kisses or passionate kisses?

Both.

Who brings the other food at work?

Vile will load up a plate of leftovers if Mevolent is balls deep in A Project and misses a meal, and take it up to his office so he'll still eat something. He actually has a better handle on When Mevolent Last Ate than Mev does.

Who made the first move?

Lowkey both of them. It was a blazing row during a post-battle debrief-slash-dressing-down that unexpectedly became an adrenaline-fuelled angry fuck. Neither is really sure who pounced first.

Who won’t dress in costume unless it’s a couple costume?

Mevolent won't dress up unless it's like, a super fancy, elegant masquerade ball costume. Vile is an introverted antisocial buzzkill and won't dress up at all.

How was their first date like?

They went riding. Vile was at the point of recovery where he was climbing the walls with cabin fever, and short walks in the palace gardens weren't cutting it anymore, so Mevolent took him outside the city to let off some steam.

Who writes love letters/notes to the other?

Both of them! The early years of their relationship were during the war, when they'd often find themselves leading the offensive on completely different continents. This being the 1800s, they'd communicate primarily by letter; incorporeal visitations were a thing, but still in the very experimental stage, and Teleporters were precious.

Originally, Vile would send field reports, and Mevolent would respond with written orders. Professional. Brief. Succinct. Then Vile has his injury. They get closer while he's recuperating, and when he goes back to the front, his orders arrive with a postscript, more or less saying, "How are you holding up?" He adds a postscript of his own to his next report - essentially, "I'm fine" - and then, after a bit of consideration, decides that sounds too brusque and adds a little funny story about something that happened with one of his soldiers recently.

The postscripts get longer. They share little anecdotes, celebrate each other's victories, comfort each other after defeats. Vile sends Mev three scrawly pages of absolute filth, which is delightedly received halfway across the world. Mevolent spells Vile's name differently on every single letter, and somehow never manages to spell it the same way twice (Veighle? Vyle? Veele? Véle? Vile is ready to end him and his medieval approach to spelling.) They even send each other little trophies or souvenirs, squeezed in at the very end of a crowded parchment.

"V - Saw this and thought of you. M"

"M - You'll probably laugh at this as much as I did. V"

Who firmly believed the other was their soulmate from early on?

They're too bitter and jaded and scarred to believe in soulmates. Vile was the one who immediately thought Mevolent Got Him, though - "finally, here is someone who shares my appetite for destruction."

How much do they touch each other (PDA)?

Rarely, in public. Once Mevolent is fully established as ruler of the world and he can be open about his relationship without risking his crusade, they might dance together occasionally, or touch one another's arm to get their attention, or murmur in one another's ear. But they were a secret for over a century, and they very rarely interact publicly in a way that would be out of character for a lord and his general. Vile still usually enters rooms behind/"guarding" Mevolent rather than on his arm (with a few exceptions, usually when Mev wants to make a point). The main "PDA" for them is that they use each other's names, rather than "my lord"/"general", and Vile will look Mevolent in the eye, which isn't really permitted for anyone else.

Do they have cute nicknames for each other?

Vile is "V" a lot of the time.

How do they feel about Valentine’s Day? Do they go on a date?

Valentine was a Christian saint, and Mevolent only endorses the Faceless religion, so while V-day might still exist in Leibniz, it would only be in the homes of those brave enough to flaunt the laws around false gods and banned faiths, and would probably not be openly celebrated.

Public marriage proposal or something private?

Private. The first anyone else hears about it is when someone notices that Mevolent's changed his family crest. It's normal for sorcerers to either impale their crest (split the shield down the middle, with half your crest on one side and your partner's on the other) with their new spouse's, or include a nod to their spouse's crest in their own, by adopting one of their tinctures or bearers or something. The gossip circuit goes wild trying to figure out what prompted the change - nobody recognises the impaled crest, and Mevolent's shown no interest in any young ladies of good family since Lady Serafina's tragic passing. Rumours abound. Changing your crest is something that happens after you get married, not before - so at some point, their lord and master got secretly married and didn't tell anyone.

Eventually, someone points out that Mevolent took Lord Vile off to one of his summer palaces for a few weeks several months ago, ostensibly to renovate. That summer palace is small as palaces go, and quiet, and that trip could...feasibly have been a honeymoon, a newly married couple wanting some privacy. But if that's true...they've been married almost a year, and nobody knew a damn thing.

After changing the crest, Mev announces a month of feasting and festivities to celebrate. He manages his public image carefully, and he knows that the commonfolk won't give a damn that he's gone and married his heathen lover, if it gives them an excuse to get drunk and stuff themselves on his dime.

Vile, being an intensely private person, took forever to okay the crest change, but since most of the court is terrified of him, he only really gets questioned by a few people.

How long into the relationship before they had sex?

Their relationship literally began with a post-battle adrenaline-fuelled angry fuck. They hooked up long before ever developing Feelings.

Who drops innuendos at random?

Neither of them are hugely inclined towards innuendoes, but it happens for both of them occasionally.

Who makes romantic surprises without a reason to?

They both will, but the definition of romantic varies wildly. "I've arranged a showing of an opera you like" and "I've kept this prisoner until you got back so we can interrogate him together" are both under the umbrella of "romantic surprise" for these two.

How likely are they to have sex in a non-bedroom location?

Very. Mevolent's throne is a popular pick. The carriage, the bathtub and every flat surface in Mev's rooms are also A-OK.

Who said “I love you” first and when?

Vile really struggles with the big three. Everyone he's ever said that to, he's lost, usually in horrible ways. He's lowkey convinced himself that if he doesn't say it, he won't ever lose Mevolent.

So it's Mev that says it first, and it's kind of in the middle of a religious crisis. He's fairly convinced the gods would overlook him fucking a heathen, given all the good he's done in their name, but then one night they're in bed together, Vile is dozing off on his chest, and he's got this warm fuzzy feeling like this is How Things Should Be, and he's not really been in love before but he's pretty sure that's a much more serious sin. Vile mumbles at him to ask what he's all fidgety about, and "I think I might be falling in love with you and that terrifies me" comes out during the resultant conversation.

Who will sing cheesy romantic songs when drunk?

Mevolent. The cheesy romantic songs are from like, the middle ages. It's a bit like your older boyfriend trying to seduce you with dad-rock - cringey, but in a funny, I-love-you-but-god-you-suck kinda way.

[fletchphoenix]

Bittersweet Aftertastes

Hey gamers - its me with chapter 5 of the Varigo Coffee Shop AU. Yet again, thank you for all the support I’ve received on this - now, on with the chapter!

TW - Strong Language

Word Count - 3858

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

Consoling the boy in front of him was...not an easy task to say the least, endless streams of tears leaving his eyes which broke Hugo’s heart each time one rolled down his now-red face, flushed from crying. He just wanted to scoop Varian up and take him away from all of this - to be alone with him where they didn’t have to worry about anything else. Obviously that wasn’t an option, but that didn’t stop him from silently pleading to the universe for it to become one.

 Hugo threaded his fingers through the smaller boy’s hair, letting them sit on the floor of his hallway in each other’s embrace and kissing his forehead as he soothed him. He whispered sweet nothings to him to provide the boy with some sense of comfort as the storm inside him brewed. Sobs died down into pathetic little whimpers, akin to a wounded animal or a kicked puppy, and tears stopped making little puddles in his shirt.

 “Feeling better?” Hugo enquired, leaning back slightly to allow himself to see the pained boy’s face. Blotched cheeks met him, eyes swollen from his extensive crying and his bottom lip quivering as he nodded, moving closer to Hugo again as they stood and walked down the hall towards the living room. Carefully, Hugo sat Varian down on the fern green couch before kissing his forehead yet again and moving back. “I’ll be right back, okay?” Hugo muttered, waiting for Varian’s nod of approval before he turned on his heel and exited the room.

 In only a few strides, he arrived in the kitchen again, immediately striding over to a moss-green cabinet beside his stove, crouching and opening it. Taking out two cups, a sapphire one and an, of course, jade one, before setting them aside and starting the coffee machine. Searching the various other cabinets and cupboards around the cramped room rewarded him with some vanilla syrup (some that he TOTALLY didn’t buy just in case Varian came over, no way) before sauntering back over to the discarded cups. He distracted himself by setting the cups under the machine and letting them fill, sitting down on the counter and scrolling through his phone in silence. Looking up, his eyes glossed over the boy in the living room, who sat staring at the floor with a troubled expression on his face.

 Hugo pushed down the feelings of guilt building in his stomach as he turned back to the coffee machine, sliding off the counter and adding the syrup along with one teaspoon of brown sugar into the sapphire mug. ‘What happened in the car?’ he pondered as he stirred the dark liquid in the cup, pouring in the milk deep in thought. What did Varian’s brother have against him? At least, he thought it was his brother, the brunette man bore no physical resemblance to Varian at all and looked far too young to be the father, let alone the father of a nineteen year old. Nevertheless, it didn’t explain his...for lack of a better word, explosive reaction to the pair. Hugo thought back, but no, he couldn’t remember a point in time where he’d potentially robbed the guy - he’d remember a face as unique as that. Shit, he thought as he stopped stirring, drops of coffee dribbling down his hand. “VERY smart, Hugo..” he groaned as he grabbed some tissue to clean his hand with, picking up the two cups and strolling to the kitchen.

 “Hey V, I’ve got your drink.” he said softly, placing it on the table in front of the boy and taking a seat beside him. The boy only gave a soft smile in response, picking up the cup and taking a sip. He hummed in satisfaction, taking the time to shuffle closer to the blonde and cuddle against him, muttering a barely audible ‘thank you’ as Hugo’s arm snaked around his shoulders to pull him closer to him. He looked so helpless. He didn’t deserve to feel that way whatsoever. Hugo felt his heart ache. “You wanna talk about it now? It’s fine if not, I just…thought it might help you I guess?”

 He cursed to himself mentally. Why was he so bad at comforting people? Why was he so awkward? Why couldn’t he just...be normal and not stutter and stammer through each sentence when he was around the other boy, who had now set his cup aside and cuddled against him further before clearing his throat. “Don’t feel pressured to, Varian. I was just-”

 “No, Hugo. I’m ready to talk. You deserve to know everything.” he uttered, cutting Hugo off. His eyes, filled with guilt, had a sadness behind them while he sat with his shoulder slumped. Defeated was the only word that came to mind as Varian let out a sigh, proceeding with his explanation.

 “He said that you’re a criminal and that you’ll never change. I don’t believe that thought. At all. You see, Eugene used to be like that - a criminal who went by the alias Flynn Rider. He was a petty thief - pickpocketing and all that jazz. Until he decided to steal from the mayor. Cue Rapunzel. She convinced her dad not to hurt him, and she promised she could help him get on the right side of the tracks. And he did! He turned his life around - he even joined the Coronan police force with Lance and helped improve the rehabilitation of criminals in jails in positive ways!  She helped him become better, but it just frustrated me about what he said because...” he let out a frustrated groan, slumping back on the couch and tugged his hair.

 “He’s not the only one with a dark past.” Varian added, clear as day. Confusion washed over Hugo’s face as he looked at Varian’s darkened, deathly serious expression. What else was he hiding? Of course he didn’t want to push him too far, but now...his interest had peaked and his curiosity got the better of him as he waited for the rest of the explanation.

 “When I was fourteen, I hurt my dad really badly. So badly, in fact, that he went into a coma. By that point, my mother had left and I had no one to turn to. So I ran, in the middle of a snowstorm mind you, to the mayor’s house. I begged and begged for help, for someone to listen to me, or to give me some money to be able to afford a good hospital for my dad to recover in! But no one did. I felt tossed aside, so I did what any kid my age would do. I turned to crime to try and raise money for my dad’s hospital bills. I was desperate. And that’s when I met Andrew.” Another lengthy pause.

“I’d sell drugs for his gang, the Saporians, and they’d give me a cut of the money so that when dad finally did wake up, we’d be just fine financially. Then they wanted me to rob a cottage. I really really didn’t want to, but...the thought of seeing my dad again made me. But I got caught by Rapunzel, the mayor’s daughter. If she wanted to, she could’ve just called the cops on me and gotten me arrested. But she didn’t.”

 “She told me all about the night I begged her for help and that she desperately wanted to, but there were citizens severely in danger because of the snowstorm, and she had to help them before she could help me. From there, she forgave me. She forgave me for trying to rob her and all my other crimes. I helped her to take down the Saporian gang - as it turns out, they were planning to attack the city..and she helped fund my father’s hospital funds. Hell, she even let me stay with her while I was waiting for him to get better. And he did. I got my dad back and everything went back to normal.”

 “My point is...Eugene’s being a hypocrite. He knows me and him did some bad stuff - but we changed. And I know you can.I just hope you don’t..think differently of me” He commented, the expression on his face solemn as he looked at Hugo. Hugo sat, lost for words, as he stared at the boy in front of him. Wow. That was...a lot of emotional baggage that was just unpacked. Not that it was a problem - in fact, Varian talking about his feelings was FAR better than him keeping them in but..wow.

 “Varian.” he began, taking the younger boy’s hands in his own. “I don’t care who you were before, I care who you are now. So what if you were a criminal? So was I. I grew up on the streets after my parents abandoned me at birth. It was hard, but I had to do it to survive. Then Donella took me in and showed me a different way to make money - using my engineering skills to take commissions and make machines for people and sell them.” He paused for a second, realising he was rambling. “What i mean to say is...I love you, Varian. Regardless of who you were before. I love you.” Shakily, he stopped and their eyes locked, anxiety building in his stomach as Varian’s eyes studied his face in silence. “I’m sorry if I’m moving too fast with this-fuck,I should go-”

 His words were cut off as the younger boy lunged forward, wrapping his arms round the blonde’s neck and knocking him back onto the sofa. Their lips met in an admittedly sloppy kiss, neither of them really caring as Hugo’s hand drifted to rest on Varian’s waist. They settled into the kiss, heads tilting and eyes remaining shut as their lips moved against each other in perfect harmony, with the only sound they could hear being each other’s heartbeats as their chests pressed against each other and the occasional breathy moan escaping from either boy’s mouth.

 Varian was the one to break the kiss, sitting in Hugo’s lap with a wide grin plastered on his face as he stared down at the older male with the utmost affection in his eyes. “I love you too, Hugo. I love you so much-god, it feels so good to finally say that. I love you, I love you, I love you.” He kept repeating, giving time for Hugo to prop himself up on his elbows and lean in for another kiss - this one being far superior to the amateur one prior. It was slow, sweet and gave Hugo plenty of time to savour the taste of vanilla that lingered on Varian’s lips.

 Hugo, eventually managing to pry Varian off his lap with very little struggling from the other, picked the teen up in his arms and trailed fleeting kisses down his neck and across his collarbone as they stumbled to his room, the soft moans Varian let out not helping Hugo’s ability to focus in the slightest. Despite all odds, they got there and Hugo immediately got to work. Laying Varian down, he hovered over him and proceeded to kiss him senseless, pulling back to observe the swollen lips and scarlet blush over his face that he’d grown so accustomed to seeing. He loved it. He loved everything about this boy - the name Varian now synonymous with perfection in his mind. Alas, he was exhausted and didn’t want to push the other too far after the absolute rollercoaster today was.

 “As much as I would love to take this further, and believe me, I would, I’m exhausted and want my eight hour beauty sleep, thank you very much.” he stated as he lay down beside Varian, pulling him close by his waist and into a tight embrace.

 “Yeah, you sure as hell need it.” Varian added snarkily, cackling as Hugo began to tickle him. “NO! Ah-Fuck! I’m sorry! Just stop!” he yelled between fits of laughter as he curled up into a ball against the man beside him. Hugo relented, his arm moving around the raven haired teen as he rested his head on his chest after pulling the green bed covers over them both. “Goodnight Hugo..I love you.” he whispered, his eyes fluttering shut as he drifted off to sleep.

 Hugo took a second to admire the boy, the same lovestruck smile creeping its way onto his face yet again. He was so stunning no matter what he did. Hugo couldn’t get enough of him - his greed proving useful for once in his life. A sigh of happiness left his lips as he placed a gentle kiss on the sleeping boy’s forehead. “I love you too, Varian. Goodnight, my dear.”

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

 As Varian’s eyes opened in the morning, the first thing that registered in his brain was the unusually large amount of sunlight bleeding in through the window. As he grew accustomed to this invasive light, he realised. He wasn’t in his room. It was too green, and the lack of a particular fatass cat just proved his point further.

 The second thing that registered was the sound of humming heading closer and closer to the door. The door swung open and in stepped Hugo, carrying a small tray with two plates stacked with blueberry pancakes, two cups and a bottle of syrup. His hair wasn’t tied up yet, the golden locks sitting a few inches above his shoulders and concealing that dumb undercut. (He’d claimed it was a ‘pinnacle of fashion’ that Varian wouldn’t understand considering how his outfit on that day was, in his words, ‘a fashion crime worthy of a life sentence’, however Varian begged to differ.)

 “Hey beautiful. Hope you’re okay with blueberry pancakes. They’re the only breakfast food I can cook, and as a poor college student, I can’t afford a toaster, so these were the only option.” He elaborated as he placed the tray on a desk pressed against a wall. A desk with a silver cage on, housing a tiny, gold furred mouse. Hugo sauntered over with Varian’s plate and cup, handing it to him.

 “Wow, your rat matches you.” he commented, a smug grin on his face as he shuffled up into a seating position to take a sip from his coffee. He set it aside on the bedside table and dug into his pancakes, moaning as he took his first bite. “Holy shit Hugo, where did you learn to cook like this? It’s perfect!”

“Darling, I was blessed with impeccable culinary skills from birth. Isn’t that right, Livi?” he glanced over at the mouse, who let out a little squeak as he sat on the bed beside Varian, placing a kiss to his temple before beginning to eat. “Her name’s Olivia. The mouse, I mean. I’ve had her for a few months, but she’s a darling.” he explained as he began to eat his pancakes, letting his boyfriend cuddle against him. Hugo bit his lip gently as his eyes caught sight of the purple bruises across Varian’s neck and collarbone, his cheeks gaining a deep red tint to them.

 “Makes sense. Also, you wanna explain the weird obsession with green? I swear, the amount of green I’ve seen here..you could have your own episode of My Strange Addiction!” he laughed before his gaze met Hugo’s now-solemn expression. “Shit, Hugh I’m sorry if I upset you, I didn’t-”

 “It’s fine. First off, I have an aesthetic to uphold and I’m not giving it up for anything. And..well, where I grew up..it was called Pittsford. Worst place in the world. Very economically divided. It uh..I grew up in the poor part of town, which was all just mines and vendors. All of the parks and greenery were in the higher class parts..parts we weren’t allowed in as ‘filthy, lower-class peasants’. As soon as me and Donella moved here, there was so much green everywhere...so much grass and so many trees...I couldn’t get enough! I fell in love with the color, hence why it’s everywhere. I just don’t want to not see it again.” he finished, glancing over at Varian. “Sob story, right? Sorry for bringing down the mood.”

 Varian smiled sadly, reaching up to turn his boyfriend’s head in his direction. “I think it’s a cute quirk. I’ll be sure to wear more green.” He stated, defining every word before placing a soft, loving kiss to Hugo’s lips, cupping his cheek.

 “Oh no you don’t! Green is my color!” Hugo declared as he leaned down, pushing his boyfriend back against the pillows and peppering kisses all over his face before proceeding to kiss his lips again. Slowly but surely, it got more intense between them, with Hugo’s hands moving to slide up Varian’s shirt and fingers danced across the skin beneath it before Varian broke the kiss. “We should-” he tried to catch his breath, panting and breathing heavily, “we should take this slower, okay?”

 “Fine by me, hairstripe!” he smiled, removing his hands and standing. He gathered some clothes from his closet. “Don’t mind me, I’m going to have a shower, alright?” he asked, watching as Varian nodded.

 “Hey Hugo?” Varian spoke, Hugo with one foot out the door as he turned on his heel to look at the boy in his bed. He looked adorable with bedhead. Hugo should invite him to stay the night more often, he noted. “Does uh..does this make us boyfriends?”

 Hugo shrugged. “I don’t mind. Do you want us to be?” He asked, Varian immediately replying with a frantic nod of approval. With a wicked grin, Hugo strode over and lowered himself onto one knee. “Okay then, Varian Ruddiger! Would you do me the pleasure of becoming my boyfriend?” He proclaimed, taking Varian’s hands in his own.

 “You’re such a dork.” The other replied, though the smile on his face spoke volumes to what he was truly thinking about the scene in front of him. “But yes, I shall become your boyfriend, Hugo Atkinson. Now go enjoy your shower! You need it!”

 Hugo shoved Varian as he laughed hysterically and gathered his clothes in his arms again. He took one last look at the teen before he strolled down to the bathroom across the hall. He ran the water and leaned back against the door, resting his hand over his mouth to hide his ridiculously wide smile. Wow. Varian was his boyfriend. Varian Ruddiger was his boyfriend. He couldn’t help the bubbly feeling that took over his body as he trailed his hand through his hair. He really was the luckiest guy in the world.

 Varian let out a little giggle and fell back against the pillows again, stunned into silence. He really was dating the biggest nerd in the world, huh? And the best thing was..he couldn’t be happier. Everything was looking up for him - thanks to his and Eugene’s argument, him and the boy he loved were finally together.

 He swung his legs over the bed to find he’d slept in the same clothes he wore yesterday, cringing slightly. No wonder he was so uncomfortable. There was no way he was borrowing Hugo’s clothes either - those things would dwarf him if he even attempted to wear them. That thought didn’t stop him, however, from sneakily taking a green hoodie from the closet, the Corona High symbol on the arm. He pulled it on and walked through the apartment.

 Despite how small it was, he loved the place. It was so Hugo - every inch of it felt exactly like his boyfriend had decorated it. Huh, boyfriend. The thought made the corners of his lips twitch up in a ghost of a smile. It sounded right - like it was meant to be used to describe Hugo and only Hugo. However, one thing that shocked him was the significant lack of pictures. The only thing that came close were framed movie posters, the rest being newspaper headlines and neon green sticky notes which, upon closer inspection, had questions on various topics about engineering. He’d have to buy him some frames and take more pictures when they went out - that way Hugo would have more to hang on the walls.

 His eyes passed over the shelves against the wall, filled to the brim with books on engineering, chemistry, physics and biology. He took one out and skimmed through the pages. They seemed very outdated and old - so most likely a hand-me-down. Maybe they were from that Donella woman he kept bringing up? Anyhow, he slid the book back into place on the shelf and continued his journey down the hall to the living room.

As he passed a mirror in the hallway, he caught sight of purple bruises littered around his neck and collarbones. Oh my god, Eugene was going to kill him-

 Oh shit.

 Eugene.

 He dashed into the living room and searched frantically for his phone, finding it on the glass coffee table alongside the coffee cups they’d discarded last night in favour of more..engaging activities. He picked it up and checked the home screen. Thirteen missed calls from Eugene, ten from Rapunzel. He was in trouble next time he saw them, he thought.

 “V?” Hugo’s voice called through the apartment as he entered the room, his eyebrow raised as he tied his hair back. “You alright there, dollface?” he asked, walking to his boyfriend and wrapping his arms around his waist from behind. “Are you okay?” He enquired yet again, placing a gentle kiss to the junction between Varian’s collarbone and neck.

 “Hugh, we’re in trouble.” He said simply, showing Hugo the screen. The other boy’s eyes widened and he stepped back. “Shit, V.” he chewed his bottom lip in thought before slumping onto the couch. “I uh...how about you send them the address and...and we can all try and talk it out?” he reasoned.

 Varian gulped and pressed ‘Call’ under Rapunzel’s contact, joining his boyfriend on the sofa and letting himself be pulled into yet another embrace by the taller male. It rang. One...two..three times before a frantic voice came through on the other end.

 “Varian Ruddiger, we have been worried SICK about you!” she declared through the phone, the boy in question pulling the device away from his ear slightly and wincing. “Where are you? Are you okay? Please tell me you’re safe-”

 “Rapunzel, I’m fine. I just...I need to talk to you. And Eugene. At Hugo’s apartment. I’ll send through the address just...please. I need you to hear us out. To hear me out.” he sighed and leant back against him, his head resting on the other teen’s chest who proceeded to play with his hair.

 A long silence came from the other end of the phone before a sigh came through. “Okay.” she said, finally, “Send it through and we’ll be there as soon as possible. I love you, Varian.”

 “I love you too, Rapunzel.” He said softly, hanging up and sending the address of Hugo’s apartment to his sister, letting out a breath he didn’t even realise he’d been holding in. Now all that was left to do was wait, he thought as Hugo held him in his arms.

 God, he hoped this went well.

[rainstormcolors]

A somewhat angsty Kaiba brothers story I wrote. ~1K words.

 - - -

He didn’t like the neighbor lady’s face. He didn’t like how she would pat him on the top of his head. He didn’t like the lavender pinstriped wallpaper in her house. She had greying hair and she would sing in whispers to the new baby who everyone who could care seemed to circle. She would bring him and the baby back to their father at their home near the end of the street, ember-colored light orbed in the windows.

Their father didn’t talk much, not anymore. He’d hold the baby, offer the baby bottles or a stuffed rabbit. The baby would cry. That was all there was.

He would cry too. Their father just held the baby. Their father didn’t talk much.

One day the neighbor lady baked a vanilla cake as he and the baby stayed in her living room. He watched as she frosted the soft golden square in sugary white. She brought the cake with her this time when she dropped off him and the baby.

The cake was set on the kitchen counter and their father held the baby.

“Can I have a piece?” he asked their father.

Their father didn’t notice.

“Can I have a piece please?” he asked again.

“Not now, Seto.”

Their father walked off with the baby pressed to his chest. The glass of the windows faded slowly from grey to marine dark. Somewhere in the house the baby began to cry.

And so Seto stood on his toes to reach for the plate holding the cake, and with everything he had he flung them both hard to the floor.

 ---

 The Infinite Darkness was his parents’ bedroom as he opened the door for the final time as an eight-year-old child. The Infinite Darkness was a shattered window at the top of a skyscraper. The Infinite Darkness was a stone doorway somewhere deep in Egypt.

“Mokuba’s waiting for you,” Atem told him.

“I know he is,” Seto answered.

And the Infinite Darkness no longer seemed so infinite and so dark and Seto didn’t belong here.

 ---

 Seto had been aware of Mokuba, plum-black hair cut to the shoulders and wearing a blue long-sleeved v-neck, silently playing a handheld game on the vanilla-white sofa across the room as Seto sorted through holographic data despite it being his day off. The sky held outside was translucent and warm and blue, and Seto had been aware of Mokuba standing to leave the room. The sudden crash of the small trashcan punted to the wall caused Seto to flinch, a knot curling in him, and he looked from his holograms to Mokuba who stared at the tumbled trashcan, Mokuba’s fists tight.

“Hey…” Mokuba said quietly, a kind of crumbling quality in his voice, fists unraveling, shoulders softening, “Could we… could we go to the park together maybe? Please?” And Mokuba wasn’t looking at him and Seto felt pressure in his chest.

“Yes. Alright,” Seto answered.

And Mokuba looked back to him with a shy smile, with unsure eyes.

 ---

 They pulled themselves into a handsome black car as driver and passenger. It was better, or maybe worse, that Isono didn’t join them. Reflections of tree branches moved over the car like jade clouds as they drove through the property and out into the world. Mokuba fiddled with the dials to play music: a mixture of electronic notes and guitar riffs, a woman’s hum. And they were silent for the first ten minutes of the journey, Mokuba staring out the window away from Seto. Once before Seto had stared out the window in this same way, when Mokuba was three-years-old and clueless about where they were being taken. Seto couldn’t face Mokuba back then.

Seto held a breath. “How… are you doing?” he asked. He felt Mokuba’s pause.

“I’m okay. I’ve been better.”

Electric wires and trees and sky moved over them inside the car.

“Did you want to talk?” Seto was afraid to ask it but he did.

���I just want to be with you,” Mokuba said, shifting to look out the front window towards the road.

The park appeared to them. Past the post-and-rail fence was the parking lot and the Eden glitter of silver water. Seto parked and the two stepped out from the car, Mokuba doing so more quickly. Seto watched Mokuba walk to the small lake’s shore, the reflections of the water forming a halo around him. The breeze was kind. Reeds danced and shimmered in patches and there was a washed-up log half in water, and Seto met the shore behind Mokuba.

“We haven’t been here in a while, huh?” Mokuba said turning back to him, “Though it’s out of the way anyway.” Mokuba softly tossed a branch with his toe.

A pair of waterbirds bobbed on the lake surface.

And the two brothers walked.

“Himeko snuck me out here for afternoons a few times,” Mokuba said. To Seto, Himeko was the maid. “It sucks you couldn’t come.” Their other father wouldn’t have it.

Mokuba had been the one to choose this place. He’d brought Seto here before, after they returned home together from Duelist Kingdom.

The trees overhead became thicker, clumping them in cool shadow. The sky between branches glistened like quartz.

“Was it fun coming here?” Seto asked.

“Yeah,” Mokuba faintly smiled to him.

At some point Seto hadn’t been able to stand on his own anymore. He needed someone to light the way. He’d felt like he was clawing in darkness. Why had Atem’s smile been so kind? Why was Mokuba smiling at him now?

“T-thank you for showing me then,” Seto said.

Mokuba shut his eyes with a brief and more lively smile. “You need to learn to relax. You work too much.”

The journey wasn’t over. Mokuba turned back to walk.

The water sparkled with life. And the two brothers walked together.

[bread-elf]

DWC 2020 - Day 7

Dance

Post invasion of N’zoth It had only been in the past few years that Jiroki danced so much, and she never felt so alive.

Having seen a beautiful display of aerial arts from a Sin'dorei years ago she became fond of a burlesque group known as the Succulent Tart, and thus then made it a point to attend their shows year round, and had met many others within the Horde and those of a carefree nature, and it changed her perspective on life.

She even received the offer to join to act as security! And not only that, she became the first Alliance-affiliated individual to perform for them for the new year. And by working with them is how she went to the Blooming for the first time, and danced the night away with new friends.

By now she had already met Sharpen Jadescythe, another Kaldorei who joined the Tarts sometime after her. They had an icebreaker by shopping together during the Menagerie once, and from there had shared dances during the multiple days of the Blooming.

During the final night of the Blooming they absolutely got tanked. And Sharpen, having seen Jiroki drink nearly every night, couldn't let her walk alone in such a state.

"You live out here, right? I think you mentioned that…"  Sharpen's face had a flush of color from his alcohol, not nearly having drank as much as Jiroki, but a decent amount.

"I just said that." Jiroki hiccups, trying to walk along the stone path in the Jade Forest. Coincidentally enough she had her own property not far from Dawn's Blossom, and the pair headed that way as he helped her home. She wore very little clothing, some shorts and a low neck V to be more 'suitable' for the festivities, and even walked barefoot. Stumbling a bit, a sudden large arm pulled at her waist.

“Be careful. Don’t worry, I can help you.” Her grins down at her, but his presence only makes things worse for her. Already the man dressed so scantily to also match the atmosphere of the party, rippling muscles on a body that looked to be sculpted by the Titan’s themselves. Just by the simple maneuver she could tell he’s incredibly strong, and she can feel her body growing hotter from just his mere presence, and not because of their combined body heat. “You can barely walk on your own!” Loosened up from the alcohol she lets out a bit of her usual sass, slowly opening up to the man over the nights but has mostly still been holding back her usual demeanor. Though perhaps he sees right through her, having a handsome grin as he looks down at her. “Haha, you’re very silly.” He comments, not something said often to her, though he nearly missteps and stumbles, taking her with him. But he catches himself, a sheepish grin playing at his lips that makes his dimples show. “See?!” Jiroki huffs stubbornly, draping her arm around his waist. “You need-” She hiccups. “You need just as much help as me!” “Maybe I do. You’re always welcome to help me along.” He winks, and she nearly melts, quickly looking away and using the opportunity to look like in a drunken stupor. But really her heart is beating so fast, surely he could tell… They reached her property, a couple of buildings dotted along the landscape together that looked to be of a very small community. Dawn was upon them, but no one seemed up and about as the staggering pair reached the front door to her own home. Fumbling for the key she inserts it in the keyhole and opens it, and they step in. A modest home, with an air filled with positive vibes, happiness lurking here. Though the architect of the building is Pandaren, the furniture and decor fit a more Darnassian culture, lounge area and chairs more fitting to the size of Night Elves. Children’s toys littered about as well, indicating little ones in the area. Though the house is silent; the Kaldorei being nocturnal afterall. “Aztook? Are you home?” Jiroki whispers, cautious over the fact her children should be in bed. But as she calls for her mate there is no response; the ex-illidari would have noticed her presence even before she reached the door if he were home. “Your home is lovely!” Sharpen has a bit of a jovial air as he glances around with wide eyes, like a child taken some place new. The pair had grown quiet during their walk, a tension in the air as their hands had remained on one another. Though now with the two in her arm she slips out of his grip, albeit begrudgingly, and in her drunken haze she nearly had assumed his hands felt reluctant to leave her as well. “Let me get you some water, before you go. Take a seat.” Though her motor skills are not functioning properly she manages to get them both glasses of water, setting it down upon a coffee table and sitting beside him. His brightly green hair stood out even in the darkness of her home, though with her sight she could still see him clearly in the dark. “You didn’t have to. Are you sure you’re feeling alright? You drank so much.” Sharpen raises a hand up to idly brush back some of Jiroki’s dance-frazzled locks, only having the audacity to do so due to his drink. Yet the touch still makes her anxious, chest tightening as the gorgeous man frets over her. “I-I’ll be fine, surely… I’ll sleep it off…” Dismissive of the hangover that’s inbound for her when she next wakes. “Jiroki…” His hand lingers, staring at her rather intensely. “Do you know how beautiful you’ve been this weekend?” “What?” Her midnight eyes widen. Jiroki had noticed some, as he would call, ‘himbo’ moments the elf would have at times with his nonchalant and partially oblivious nature. At first she thought this might have been one of those moments, but his eyes had such a look of longing, almost a predatory gaze at her. “It’s true, you’re simply gorgeous. I… Hope you won’t hit me for saying that.” Another sheepish grin, making her notice a tiny cut on the right side of his lip, somehow becoming alluring to her. “H-Hey, what kind of person do you take me for?” Typically she would sass greatly at someone for making such a statement, but she just snorts in amusement while getting embarrassed. “N-No I, of course I wouldn’t, I’m flattered…” Now the blush on her cheeks is there in full force as his hand slides from her hair to her cheek. Glancing in each other’s eyes they just stare for a while, something building up they couldn’t deny. Their lips start to draw towards each other… Yet even in their drunken stupor they both pull back. “No, I… Not like this.” Sharpen takes in a deep breath, trying to calm himself, and Jiroki herself has to glance away to try and collect her thoughts. “S-Sorry, I… I don’t know what’s come over me…” If her mate is in fact home he could only be watching in amusement as she fumbles with herself, even taking a glance around the living room the two sat in. “Jiroki…” Sharpen takes her head. “I… I know you have a family, but, um…” He stammers, struggling to find his words. “I’m probably going to look lousy, but… Would- Would you like to go do something? We could… We could go to the beach! And I could fish us up a meal, I would love to be able to catch you something.” Suddenly very adamant about the idea as his amber eyes express it, glancing down at their hands. “Is… That ok?” “I…” Overwhelmed by this, not in the state of mind to be accepting such offers. Though the man somehow had a way of making her excited even over the littlest of things. “That sounds… Very nice.” Surely a simple gathering would be alright. Delighted by this Sharpen grins widely. “Really? Oh thank you; I’ll make sure it’s a grand time! We should go to Stranglethorn!” Starting to smile widely Jiroki nods her hand, gently gripping his hands in turn, looking forward to the outing they began planning. Little did she know how far their newly found relationship would stem. (( @daily-writing-challenge​ )) (( A little shy over this one lolol. They try and hide it, but Jiroki and @sharpen-jadescythe​ are rather of fond for each other! And Sharpen is such a wonderful person to rp with! <3 <3 <3 ))

[404fmdhaon]

self para & aesthetic & playlist — v live blues

summary: gyujeong does a solo vlive for the first time in two years — not mandated by the company, just because he’s tipsy and lonely. it’s where he suggests a playlist for those feeling down. playlist summary: feeling down, and gyu suggests his go-to songs for the moments you need a pick me up. (explanation of each song weaved in the self-para). warnings: alcohol wc: 1368 (this accounts for the playlist summary too) 

it’s obvious when he stumbles through the hallways of his apartment — staggered steps, a palm pressed against the walls when he takes his shoes off, tosses it out. he’ll save the cleaning for another day. times like these, it’s the taste of alcohol that lingers on the tip of his tongue and he forages the pieces of things to do for the next day: another recording inside the walls of his studios, and another meeting. no new friends, just the same old people roaming around.

he flicks his gaze towards tokki, snuggled up against her corner of the room (warning: danger territory, he never encroaches towards that facet of her space). instead, he slips a lighter out of his pocket nested deep, lights the candles one by one in his room as he enters — finishes it all off with an incense. 

the aroma of the room slowly dissipates into his comfort scents. forces him to relax his shoulders as he hangs up the jacket wrapped around his body, and by the time he throws his back onto the bed and stares at the ceiling — the realization hits. 

loneliness feels foreign. 

not the gaping hole throbbing inside a void, but the kind that slowly reaches its hands and warps him new. he’s never been the pitiful image of harrowing loneliness, jaded and skewed, no — that’s not his niche. yet, it’s this subtle difference where he’s strung thin from one place to the next and suddenly, he’s screaming out to an empty abyss and alcohol rings his thoughts louder.

gyujeong figures — this kind of night isn’t smoothened over by forcing his eyes shut, shuffling inside his bed for empty hours on end. he needs an escape, and the last form of escape doesn’t come to a call to a friend in the welcome of “what’s up” but instead, the last lapse of his judgement: v-live.

his feet slide back over to his desk, phone positioned against the screen of his monitor. ceiling lights on, he hums to himself the beginnings of the song recorded earlier (drunken state still clocks him, and spoilers would yank the tether around his neck closer in). 

instead, he turns in on, presses his beanie further against his head. four in the morning, and the numbers start trickling in when he stares blankly, full-transparency to a phone with a sea of empty faces.

haon, vlive?  our oppa is treating us! what’s wrong with his expression? is he drunk, he’s red ㅋㅋ handsome even when he looks tired happy fans from indonesia!

he doesn’t greet them, doesn’t say hi. the most he makes is when his cheeks puff out, and he squeezes his lips together shut, blowing out when his hands roll around the mouse. in comes the clicks onto a screen, when the first words he speaks air: “i like these songs — just sit and listen.”

roses by finn askew

the first few sounds of the beat come in before the voice entrances — he sings along. a song about roses, he thinks of yeseul — the eleven roses, one short of a dozen when he waited for her in the corner of a neighborhood (the first time he buys flower for a girl, another first she takes away from him). give you all my time, if you wanna take it slow. you’re my little pick-me-up, yeah. you fill my cup — he stops his cover short when the notion that his pick-me-up becomes a fragment of the past and he’s still jaded by the aftermath.

strawberries and cigarettes by troye sivan Remember when you taught me fate Said it'd all be worth the wait Like that night in the back of the cab When your fingers walked in my hand Next day, nothin' on my phone

he doesn’t sing along, only sulks back into his chair — his hands come across his chest, and he basks in each word flowing past his speakers. thinks of each instance of fate, and how it all slots itself together when he least expects it. one strike of fate after another, and now he’s ten years past his own first steps into the decision that changes him. no longer worth the wait, he shakes his head drowning in the whiplash of missteps sliding from one phase to the next.

it’s his sad boy blues, he knows. doesn’t care when warmth and red-tinges across his face beg to differ.

good news by mac miller When it ain't that bad It could always be worse I'm running out of gas, hardly anything left Hope I make it home from work Well, so tired of being so tired

it’s an ode to one of the greatest inside his head — mac miller. the gentle lull of mumbles and the easy-listening, he’s reminded once more of why healing comes in the form of music. gyujeong continues, follows the play of the song when he raps along in a sing-song motion of when it ain’t that bad, it could be worse. (inside his mind’s a replay of the past few years where bad judgement and whiplash of bc’s constant meetings play.) 

remembers the day of trainee life when the first release of mac miller soothed tired nights in the training room, beads of sweat ceased by the empty echoes of mac playing inside the dark room. “rest in peace, mac miller” he whispers by the time the song ends.

changes by lauv I'm getting rid of all my clothes I don't wear I think I'm gonna cut my hair 'Cause these days, I don't feel like me, mm I think I'm gonna take a break from alcohol

his eyes rove over each comment, a stream of consciousness that leaves each blank face behind a username calling out for a talk. he subdues their woes when he reaches out in the first question of the night — “should i cut my hair?” and in surfaces the cheeky smirk, pulled lopsided when the heartless laughter stems out of his chest heavy soul. 

there’s no happiness inside changes, just the same monotony that drags from one day to the next. he’s thought of it, thought of the times he’s wanted to burn his clothes, start anew. leave the life behind him — yet, it’s the effect already set in stone where he no longer feels like himself. lost his self in the process, and perhaps, it’s what spurred the loneliness in the first place.

blue by keshi Don't hit my cell There's an unknown number on my phone I don't need your help Just let me lay down on the floor

gyujeong paints himself blue. drowns himself in a sea of dark waves, tempest patterns — he sits, throws his head back when he picks up the phone and draws it closer to his face. up-close, personal. yet, there’s a lapse of personal touches when it feels like a narrowing chasm of cctv maximized as the eyes watching glue to each of his moments.

he doesn’t want their help, he just wanted an escape. lying on the floor, sitting on a chair — the act of nothing: he’s numbed out by now.

pink skies by lany

when his eyes flit over to the window, there’s a ribbon of pink in the horizon. the mood down low, he clicks to the next recommended song on the side bar — listens to it for the first time. it draws a picture of a road trip had he ever been served with unrestrained freedom leaving him out in the open (mental note: a road trip might be the answer during the next bolt of loneliness wedging itself deep).

gyujeong stays in his chair, tapping his fingers against the desk. this type of music becomes background noise when he reads out loud, the comments one by one — brows raising in a faux show of interest inside the monotones that wring out the ambivalence. 

“what is your favorite color.” “yellow.” “what are you doing”  “listening to music.” “where is knight?” “inside bc entertainment.” “what do you smell like” “roses.”

october eyes by alt bloom All the lack of symmetry fits you so perfectly lady Yes I fall with your clothes take em' off hold me close, baby Those October eyes Keep me up all night Darling, my sunrise is when you go

the last song he shares in the night, skims past the comments. a farewell to the loneliness still persisting, and he sings along — it all comes full circle when the first and last match up to the one figure lodging herself deeper inside his chest. his october eyes no where to pierce him with the same tempest stare and coy smile, yet he still stays up all night — the sun rises, and that’s when she leaves and fatigue takes over. 

he heaves a heavy breath, chest out. exhale then inhale — the breathiness takes over when his voice shakes, and the room starts spinning. (he still sings along anyway).

by the time it’s over, he doesn’t manage a heartless look. humanized, he offers solace in a dulled out curl of his lip, bares out a “thank you for today,” and in case somewhere fate slides yeseul back to him, he adds the postlude to her. 

“take a listen again, and you’ll know where i stand.” 

[ericsonclan]

You're My Home Part 4

Summary: Now that they live together, Violet decides it's time: she invites Prisha to come with her to meet her mom.

Read on AO3:

Notes: Many thanks to @violetineprompts for the inspiration for this fic!

Violet sat in bed thoughtfully, her fingers playing with the sheets covering her. Prisha lay beside her, still sleeping. Violet wondered how soon it would be until she woke up. There was something important she needed to ask her. The clock beside their bed read 5:47 AM. She still had a little while. Crawling out of bed, Violet headed into the kitchen to make breakfast. As she finished preparing the eggs, bacon and toast, she heard her girlfriend stir and come out of the bedroom.

“Making breakfast, love?” Prisha asked, still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

Violet smiled shyly at the term of endearment. Prisha was especially affectionate whenever she was sleepy. “Mhm. I made plenty, so grab as much as you want,” She sat down across from her girlfriend, watching happily as Prisha began to eat.

It only took a moment for Prisha to realize Violet wasn’t joining suit. “You made all this and you’re not hungry?”

Violet shook her head, her eyes on the table. “Visiting my mom today,”

Prisha froze in the midst of biting into a piece of toast slathered in marmalade. “Oh. I see,”

“I want you to go with me this time,”

Prisha’s eyes shot up at that, studying Violet. In all the time they’d been together, neither had met each other’s parents. In Violet’s case, there was the added factor of her father’s violent mood swings. Prisha had never pushed the issue of Violet continuing to visit her mother once a month, even though the first time she’d learned of it had been through seeing Violet with a black eye. To be asked this now… Prisha wondered what had brought it on.

Violet seemed to read her thoughts. “I know it’s not something we ever really talked about. But I would like you to meet my mom. I- I want her to know that I’m happy,”

Prisha’s heart swelled at those words. “Violet…” She reached across the table to grab her girlfriend’s hand. “Of course I want to go. I would be honored,”

Violet’s eyes widened before settling into a bright warmth. “Shit. Ok then. We’re actually doing this,” She squeezed Prisha’s hand gently. “You good to go after breakfast?”

Prisha nodded. “I’ll be finished in a few,”

---

It didn’t take long before they were ready to head out. There wasn’t really anything to pack, just the monthly check that Violet set aside for her mother. Once that was written up they headed down to Prisha’s car, driving in relative silence. The only sound was the gentle lilt of Louis’ piano playing on the CD he had given them a few weeks earlier.

As they approached the old trailer park that Violet had once called home, she felt her gut twist inside her. Prisha had never been out here before. Violet had been honest about her past and more open with Prisha than she’d ever been before, but still, would seeing the dilapidated trailer in person somehow change things between them? Shut the fuck up - you’re being stupid, Violet scolded herself. Prisha’s not like that. It wasn’t like any of her other friends had abandoned her because of her shitty home life. Still, it was a feeling Violet simply couldn’t shake.

Pulling up to the correct trailer, Prisha parked the car and silently exited. As Violet approached, she reached out her hand to intertwine their fingers. They walked up the few steps to the broken screen door hand in hand. Violet rang the doorbell. They waited in tense silence until the main door was opened up a crack. As soon as there was recognition, the door opened wider. Violet’s mother stood before them, looking at the two girls through her screen door. The light inside the house was dim compared to outside so Prisha could only pick up vague details: long, thin blonde hair pulled back in a low ponytail. A thin, wiry frame similar to Violet’s. And dark eyes that looked out with a sort of jaded indifference.

“You gonna let us in, Mom?” Violet finally asked, breaking the silence.

Her mother pushed the screen door open without a word, allowing the girls to slip inside. They were immediately within the living room. A small TV stood against the far wall with a worn-down sofa and armchair facing it. The kitchen was to their right, the sink cluttered with dirty dishes and the smell of burnt food lingering within the air. Violet quickly guided Prisha over to the table where they sat beside each other, looking up at Violet’s mother.

“Tea?” she asked softly. There was a wispiness to her tone that reminded Prisha of Violet’s voice. They both nodded and Violet’s mother headed into the kitchen to get the water heater started. It gave off a high-pitched, faint whistle even as the water within was far from reaching boiling point. Violet’s mother sat down across the table, still observing the girls silently. There was something world-weary within her deep brown eyes. It was clear life had not been kind to her and was far from done with her either.

Violet slid over the check, tucked within a plain white envelope. Her mother pocketed it without a second thought, rising quickly afterwards to get out mugs for tea. When she came back, she carried three mugs steaming with chamomile tea: a pale purple one with a rainbow sloppily painted upon it – clearly a school art project of Violet’s from days gone by; a cracked white mug with a red logo that read Reggie’s Eats upon it and a black mug with no sort of decoration whatsoever. She handed the purple mug to Violet, the black to Prisha, and took a sip from the white mug herself. “You’ve never brought someone over before. Even growing up you wouldn’t,”

Not much to see here and plenty to avoid, Violet thought to herself, but she knew this wouldn’t be an appropriate answer. Not knowing what else to say, she kept things simple. “Mom, this is Prisha,”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Miller,” Prisha said, lowering her mug.

Violet’s mother nodded faintly. “You’re a friend of Violet’s?”

Violet and Prisha shared a look. Violet could feel her throat closing up from the pressure within. It was now or never though. Giving Prisha’s hand a final squeeze, Violet looked up at her mother. “Prisha’s my girlfriend,”

Violet’s mother stopped mid sip. Placing her mug down on the table, she looked off into the middle distance, seeming lost in her own thoughts. It took several seconds before she spoke. “I should’ve figured as much. What with you never dating, never even talking about boys,” She sighed, taking another sip of her tea.

“Violet’s a truly wonderful girl,” Prisha blurted out, her grip on Violet’s hand tightening. “I’m lucky to have met her,”

Violet’s mother gazed at Prisha, her gaze slightly narrowed, as if she wondered what Prisha’s angle could be in saying such a thing. “How did you two meet?”

“At work,” Violet replied. “Prisha works as the bartender at Ericson’s Diner,”

A slight puff of air left her mother’s lips, almost as though she found Prisha’s particular occupation at the diner ironic. She ran her fingers across the top of her mug absent-mindedly. “You know, I always thought you and Louis might end up together someday. Lord knows the two of you spent enough time together. But you said he's dating one of the waitresses, didn’t you? That pretty one in the pictures you’ve shown me,”

“Mom,” Violet’s jaw tightened, her gaze firm. “Prisha and I have been dating for over a year and a half now. We live together,”

Her mother seemed surprised at those words. She looked back and forth between the girls in shock, her eyes growing as large as Violet’s did in moments of surprise.

Violet continued on. “I love Prisha, Mom. That’s why I wanted to bring her here, for better or for worse. I wanted to show you that I’m happy,”

Prisha’s eyes sparkled at Violet’s words, her thumb gently rubbing her girlfriend’s hand as she smiled over at her with pride.

“You have to go,”

The words made Violet’s stomach sink. So her mother wasn’t going to accept her after all. “Mom, I-”

“No, you need to leave,” Violet’s mother wasn’t looking at her. She was looking out the window. That’s when Violet heard it: the rumble of her father’s truck.

Violet sprung to her feet at once, eyes flying round the room in search of an exit. She knew full well it was wishful thinking: the only exit the trailer had was the front door and her father would head up those steps any second now. Seeing her and Prisha trying to sneak out the front would only heighten his suspicions and lead to a confrontation. Should they hide then? But if he was home, he’d likely be here for hours, sprawled out in front of the TV. Would they seriously have to wait until he passed out to safely slip away? Pulling Prisha towards her old bedroom, Violet froze as she heard the screen door creak open. They were out of time. Instinctively she pulled her hand out of Prisha’s grasp.

“I’m home!” her father declared loudly, clearly already inebriated. His eyes took in the room lazily, widening in surprising when they fell upon his daughter and a stranger. “Violet,” he spoke bluntly, his eyes narrowing. “Haven’t seen you here in a long while. Who’s the beaner?”

Violet’s lip curled in disgust at her old man’s presence. “Prisha. We were just leaving,” She stepped forward but her father still blocked the exit.

“Leaving? But I just got here. Sit down!” he yelled suddenly before his expression changed to a lazy smile. “Please,”

Violet wasn’t sure what else to do. Shaking slightly, she returned to the seat she had recently vacated, Prisha beside her. This was bad. Maybe if they had to, they could make a run for it seeing as they were in the chairs closest to the door. But could they start up Prisha’s car before her father reached them? Violet wasn’t sure about that.

Her father sat down in the chair beside her mother. His hand lay open on the table as though expecting something. “Beer,”

Violet’s mother bit her lower lip. “I don’t think we have any-”

“I said BEER!” he roared, causing Violet’s mother to scurry and find some that she’d clearly hidden away in one of the cupboards. Popping it open, she handed it to her husband before sitting back down, her eyes on the table.

Violet’s father took a long swig before turning back to his daughter. “So, to what do we owe the pleasure?” he asked, waving his arms in mock grandeur.

“I just came to see Mom,” Violet replied, her eyes hard but turned away from him.

Her father snorted. “No love for your old man? I see how it is. I only fed and raised you, but do I see a penny or a word of thanks for any of it? Never,”

Prisha was fuming. Her hand rested upon Violet’s seat, balled up into a fist.

Though she remained silent, Violet’s father seemed to pick up on her body language, sending a sneer her way. “Got something to say, girlie?”

Prisha shook her head. “Nothing at all,”

“Prisha is Violet’s roommate,” Violet’s mother jumped in, sharing a quick look with Violet. “We were just getting acquainted,”

Violet’s father snorted. “Figures,” He turned toward his daughter with a frown. “Don’t you ever make friends with any white folks? I thought after hanging around Mason’s boy for so many years he might finally introduce you to some well-off white boys, someone you could shack up with. About time some of that wealth rubbed off and came our way. Don’t you work with that boy now?”

Violet simply nodded, remaining silent. The less her father knew about her life the better.

Finishing his beer off with one final swig, Violet’s father lazily dropped the empty bottle to the floor before motioning for another.

“I- we… that’s it,” Violet’s mother’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

“Bullshit. You’ve always got more hidden away. I know how you are,”

“I’ve been busy with those double shifts these last few days. I figured I’d have time to run out and buy some more before you got home, but you’re earlier than expected and-”

“So what, this is my fault?” Violet’s father’s voice rose in anger as he glared over at his wife. “A man should be able to expect a cold beer in his hand whenever he comes home. Is that so much to ask?”

“No,” The answer was faint.

“I said is that so much to ask!” Violet’s father rose from his chair, towering over his wife threateningly.

Instantly Violet was on her feet as well, her purple mug grasped firmly in her hand. The impromptu weapon shook slightly in her hand as she glared up at her father who chuckled darkly at the sight of his daughter.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Back away from Mom,”

“Or what?”

“Violet, I-” her mother began only to be met with a hard slap across the face.

“No interruptions!” Violet’s father bellowed, raising his hand to strike again.

“You piece of shit!” Violet screamed, tossing the mug at her father’s head. It broke against his temple and crashed to the ground, causing him to turn toward her with eyes full of rage.

“What did you say?” Her father circled the table, heading toward Violet when suddenly a whistled sound cut through the air and he staggered back in surprise, a hand held to his cheek.

Prisha stood in front of Violet, breathing heavily, arms spread. In one hand was a long, thin silver rod. It looked like one of those retractable pointers teachers used in a classroom. Prisha’s tone was grim as she extended her hand, pointing the rod threateningly. “Don’t you dare lay a fucking hand on her,”

Violet’s father narrowed his eyes in disbelief. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” He strode toward the table again only to be slashed by two quick hits, one across his legs and the other cutting the side of his face.

“My name is Prisha Chakyar and as I live, I will not let you take one step closer to either your daughter or your wife,”

“Raising a weapon against me in my own home? No one does that! No one dares-” His words and rampage were cut short once more as Prisha continuously delivered a volley of attacks across his form, her aim precise and merciless. Reaching out to block the weapon with an angry roar, he received a slash upon his knuckles that left them bloody. Violet’s father attempted to charge forward through the pain only to be met with a slice directly across his face and a kick to the groin that left him staggering against the back of the armchair and falling to the ground.

Prisha flicked the steel pointed free of blood, keeping a steady eye upon the hated man. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her car keys and threw them to Violet. “Vi, start the car. Take your mother with you. I’ll be out shortly,”

Violet nodded, circling the table and grabbing her mother’s arm.

“Violet, I-”

“For once in your life, will you just fucking listen to me, Mom? We’re leaving!” Violet’s grip was firm as she guided her mother past her father’s glowering gaze and outside the trailer to the safety of the car. As the screen door slammed behind them, she could hear her father speaking once more.

“You think I’ll let something like this stand? I’ll sue you, take you for all your worth,”

“I highly doubt that, Mr. Miller. Considering your current financial status you’re unlikely to be able to afford a lawyer to begin with and there are years of evidence to prove your claims to the contrary. I’ll be leaving now and if I ever see you coming anywhere near Violet, I’ll do far worse than what you witnessed here today,”

As Prisha exited the trailer, Violet hurried to get her mother into the back of the car and circle round to the passenger side. Tossing the keys to Prisha as she sat down, Violet noticed her girlfriend’s hands were shaking. The rod lay at Violet’s feet now, still tinged with her father’s blood. As they sped out of the trailer park and back onto the freeway, Violet reached out for Prisha’s shoulder. Prisha flinched initially at the touch, but relaxed into it as she glanced over at Violet, a small smile on her face.

---

They dropped Violet’s mother off at the restaurant where she worked. Giving her mom all the cash she had on hand, Violet told her to find a motel for the night then left with Prisha. The drive back to their apartment was silent, tense once more, but a different sort of tension than they’d experienced on the way there, the silence of processing what had happened rather than what was to come. It wasn’t until they were inside the apartment, the door locked firmly behind them, that Violet turned to speak to Prisha. “Prish…”

Her girlfriend stood before her, the metal rod still held within her hand. Her eyes were full of emotions, such a depth and flurry of them Violet couldn’t tell which were which.

Violet wrapped a hand around her arm, looking at the floor in shame. “I’m sorry,”

“Vi…” Prisha dropped the rod upon the floor, rushing forward to wrap her in a crushing hug. The pair stayed frozen within that moment, clinging to each other, breathless, until Prisha pulled away, a hand coming up to cup Violet’s face. “Thank God he didn’t reach you. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to stop him in time,”

Violet’s lower lip trembled, tears beginning to run down her face. “It was awful. I never wanted you to see that. I swear I had no fucking clue he’d be back. My mom said he had work today, and-” she choked, her words getting caught in the buildup of tears and snot within her.

Prisha brought Violet’s head to her chest, rocking her back and forth gently. “We got out safely and we grabbed your mother too. That’s all that matters,”

“My mom,” Violet pulled away, looking up at Prisha with wet eyes. “I thought she’d take it better. I mean, I hoped. Shit, I figured she already fucking knew. I should never have taken you there. It was a mistake,”

“It was a calculated risk,” Prisha replied, gently guiding her girlfriend towards the couch. “Sit down. I’ll make us some chamomile tea,” She paused, glancing back at Violet. “On second thought, hot cocoa,”

Violet sat upon the couch in a daze, watching Prisha bustle back and forth within their kitchen. How was she still standing? After what they’d been through, Violet felt as though her legs couldn’t support her weight a second longer even if she tried.

Prisha came back in a few minutes with the two mugs of cocoa, setting them down upon the end table before reaching out for Violet once more, brushing a strand of hair out of her face then pulling her close. As Violet’s head rested upon Prisha’s chest, she could hear how fast her girlfriend’s heart was beating. The encounter had shaken her too. Prisha was just showing it differently. Prisha sighed, running a hand through Violet’s hair repeatedly as though making sure she was still there. “Well, it’s safe to say that we won’t be taking on the challenge of visiting my family anytime soon either,”

“They can’t be worse than mine,” Violet muttered. “Racists, homophobes… abusers,”

“Nevertheless, I believe we’ve earned ourselves a break,” Prisha rested her cheek upon Violet’s head, letting out a shaky sigh. “I’m so thankful that wand didn’t break,”

“What the hell was that anyway? It looked like something you’d use during a Powerpoint presentation,”

Prisha chuckled. “I actually have used it for that purpose over the years. My father bought it for me, for self-defense purposes. I’ve had it since high school. Never had to use it till today though,”

“Do you always carry that with you?” Violet asked, looking up at her girlfriend in disbelief.

“Not often these days. I have the bat stored under the bar if things ever got out of hand at the diner. But I didn’t want to bring something like that to my first meeting with your mother – I figured that would send the wrong impression. So I snatched up the wand instead and tucked it in my pocket, a sort of last resort,”

“One we had to use,”

“One that kept us safe,” Prisha stroked Violet’s hair one last time before pulling away slightly and looking her in the eyes. “Violet, you never have to say you’re sorry to me when it comes to your family. Where you were born isn’t your fault and what happened back there isn’t on you,”

Violet buried her head against Prisha’s shoulder. “Still, you didn’t deserve to go through that,”

“Neither did you,” Prisha placed a hand upon Violet’s shoulder. “I think you know already how precious you are to me, Violet. I hope that one day you see yourself as I do too without all the years you spent in that hellhole dragging you down. You survived, Violet. You’re the strongest person I know. Stronger than a person should ever have to be. But you don’t have to feel like you have to keep that strong face on even around me. Because that altercation terrified me,” Prisha’s voice became shaky, tears beginning to escape her eyes. “And since I’m crying before you, you can cry before me for as long as you need,”

Violet reached up, brushing a tear away from her girlfriend’s cheek before sobs overtook her own throat once more. Leaning against Prisha, she let herself cry. Tears for all the nights she spent in fear of her father’s wrath, the days she’d avoided the house in order to be safe from him. Tears for all the cuts and bruises she’d hidden, the pitying looks she’d turned away from. Tears for every attempt to escape, every action she’d taken to make things right only for everything to crumble apart and to find herself that same scared little kid once more, cowering in a corner alone.

But she wasn’t alone, not anymore. She wasn’t trapped in the trailer or crouching on the mattress in her old shitty apartment. She wasn’t couch surfing in Mitch’s or Marlon’s living room or hiding from the staff at Louis’ mansion. She was home. She had a home here with Prisha, a life they’d built together. She wasn’t going to give that up. Neither of them were. They would fight for what they had and fight to keep each other safe from all the shit life threw their way. As the flow of her tears lessened, Violet found herself focusing on something else: the feeling of Prisha’s arms around her. She was safe here. And knowing what she did now, knowing Prisha as deeply as she’d ever known a person before, Violet was sure that this wasn’t something she could lose. She was home for good.

[ansgar-martinsson]

The Best Intentions - Part 21

“I know aptitude when I see it. Selfish of me, really. Get them whilst they’re young and all that. Get my pickings of the talent pool early on.” Ansgar replied. He leaned on the edge of her desk, his leg dangling, his shined brown loafer just scraping the floor. A curl of his fingers and he inspected his nails, trying to appear nonchalant as his mind worked. He debated revealing what he was about to say, what he was about to tell her. He knew he’d pressed her buttons enough intentionally that afternoon, and he wondered if exposing her to more of his… his humanity… would send her reeling.

Which is exactly what he wanted to do, to show her the reality that was himself, to draw her out of her shell, to draw her deeper into him; but he also knew when too much was too much. He’d read her. Read her like Shakespeare for Dummies just how much his very presence in front of her brother, in front of her nephews, in front of her entire family rattled her. He couldn’t help but wonder how she would react, how beautifully insane she would be when he met mother for the first time.

For that was something else he knew – a simple corporate background check can reveal a plethora of information – that she lived with her mother. That her mother was ill. That she cared for her mother. And that endeared her to him, but he wouldn’t admit that to her… not yet. He wouldn’t admit that it made him a little jealous, actually - as Ansgar’s father had died young, and his mother had all but ignored him in the past few years. Shelved him and his mad life in favour of the stability of Magnus and his family. Which was fine. Ansgar understood the doting grandmother role, Ansgar knew he could never gift Joanna with grandchildren himself, but, even as tough and as sharp and as jaded as he was - sometimes a man just needed to talk to his mother.

And his own was distant. Unavailable. Uninterested.

Something, after Faye left him, he swore he would never be to those he cared for.

“Her nephew,” he began, still picking one nail with his thumbnail. “Faye’s nephew, Rufus. He was like that. Like Adrian and Hugo. Brilliant, curious, mechanically inclined. Genius level, nearly.” He brought the fingernail to his teeth, scraping a tiny fleck of dirt out from beneath the corona. “I had him in my tutoring program a few years back. He excelled. Designed a working lift crane of all things - something that I ran by my own engineers. Had it built, and now I use it on smaller-scale projects.”

“Do you… do you still see him at all?” She turned around then, crossed her arms over her chest and rest back against her bookcase.

Ansgar sighed. “No,” he said. “I had a row with his father shortly after Faye left me. Threatened to kill the man, actually, so… no. I haven’t seen Rufus in two years. He’ll be fifteen this April. Nearly grown.”

“I’m… I’m sorry,” she said.

“Eh,” he shrugged, pushing himself off the desk. “It’s no matter now, is it?” He strode over to her, took her by the shoulders and planted a gentle yet firm kiss upon her lips, opening up to her quiet whimper, and the caress of her hands on his back. “I will see you at eight, darling,” he said. “Be ready by ten minutes before.”

“Why?”

“We’re having a quiet night in tonight, my place. At eight. Dinner - casual, of course - and a film in my home theatre, and whatever follows.” He smiled broadly, teeth pulling sensually at his lower lip. “Mickhail will pick you up at ten minutes until eight.” His finger traced the line of her cheek to caress over her bottom lip. “Don’t leave him waiting. He gets very cranky if he’s made to wait.”

“I won’t.”

Wink. “I know.”

****

And true to his command, Ansgar’s door chime sounded at eight o’clock on the dot. He grinned broadly as he opened the door to the elevator lobby, but that grin morphed quickly into a breathy look of astonishment, of pure desire, at the very sight of her. “Jesus, Joline,” he blurted, “you look…amazing.”

And she did, dressed as she was in a leather trimmed black blouse and a tight pair of studded and decorated jeans, the cuffs resting just at her ankles above a pair of high heeled shoes. Not the Louboutins, that time, but Ansgar found her own shoes to be somehow sexier. Her hair was done up in a high, fluffed-out ponytail, wisps of hair caressed her simply made up cheeks. A bit of eyeliner, some blush and a bright red lipstick.

“I’m casual. You said casual,” she dipped her head shyly, batting her eyelashes at him.

“I did, didn’t I?” his voice broke slightly. “Yes. You… you’re perfect.”

“As are you,” she smirked, fingering the collar of his blue linen shirt, tucked neatly into a pair of black jeans, held up by a leather belt and a decorative, yet tasteful belt buckle.

“Come in, please,” he said, gesturing. “I….” he hesitated. “I’ve a bit of a surprise for you.”

She smiled as she stepped past him into the foyer. “Oh, really?”

“Yes.” He chewed his lips together, like a small child upon entering a toy store for the first time. “Come with me.” He took her hand and crossed the expansive entry way. He turned her, took her by the shoulders and sat her down on a white leather chaise near the piano. He bent to her and indulged in a long, ardent kiss, licking his lips at the end of it.

“So what’s my surprise?” She whispered against his lips.

“I never did get to play for you,” he said. “Last night. We… never used the piano for its intended purpose.” He shuddered, remembering how he had taken her over the closed lid of the polished ebony Steinway, how she rode him as he sat on the leather piano bench, her legs wrapped around his waist and how she…. oh!

“No, we never did,” she smiled. “Are you… are you going to play for me now? Is that my surprise?”

He nodded, his smile almost shy, his eyes blinking, averting hers. “Only if you want me to.”

He felt her hands, warm and soft and gentle, on either side of his face. She pushed, gentle pressure to turn his gaze to hers. She pulled, drawing him closer to her, drawing him to where she could grace the tip of his nose with a soft, pillowy press of her lips. “It’s perfect. Yes. I want you to. I want to hear you play…. you fucking virtuoso.”

He barked a laugh. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did,” she shrugged. “Mind you it was in the throes of passion, but you know what they say about truth in it.”

“I thought it was truth in jest.”

“Jesting, fucking, it’s all the same.”

He laughed outright then. “Yeah, I guess it is.” He nodded, readying himself. “Okay.” He sat down on the piano bench, playfully tossing an imaginary set of tuxedo tails out from behind him, making her laugh again before he pulled the bench forward, laid his hands on the piano, and breathed.

In.

Out.

And with a roll of his hands, a closing of his eyes, a hunch of his shoulders and a melt of his muscles, he played.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wpRzZojcP40

As became Ansgar’s modus operandi with her, what Joline expected him to play on the piano and what he actually played were polar opposites. Worlds apart, in fact. The man continued to knock her expectations off kilter and kept her guessing, continuously breaking the barrier down of the compartment she tried to keep him in.

After the afternoon she had, trying to keep him away from her family, his showing interest and even favor in them, Ansgar was more than a one night stand. He called her on her deflection for what it was and allowed her into his life, even if superficially. Who would do the same for a one night stand? As she sat, feet tucked up beside her on his lounge (judging by the amount of leather it took to make, cost more than her mother’s mini Cooper), she’d already exceeded the typical one encounter by double.

She had to try to remain distant and aloof to keep her heart. For one thing she knew for sure, Ansgar Martinsson could break her heart, devastate her without taking the pleasure in her utter destruction. As the proverbial saying went, the opposite of love wasn’t hate, it was indifference. As soon as he got his fill of their faux rebound, he’d forget about her.

All she needed to do was keep her head, stick to her word of no expectations, and enjoy the sex for however long he wanted her around. It would be so much easier to do that if he wasn’t so considerate of her, of her nephews, of her family. It was already complicated it with offering to tutor or find a tutor for her nephews. She couldn’t allow him to hurt them.

The dulcet, tremulous somber music poured from his fingers and his piano instead of some great showoff symphony of some well-known composer. Instead he chose a soothing, reflective piece with a smattering of a hopeful melody of playful high notes. This wasn’t a flashy complicated piece of an expert, this was beauty in simplicity, a classic case of less was more.

As for his skill in music, Ansgar’s boasts were on the mark, earning him every right to brag. He played as a virtuoso, focused, dedicated, respectful of the music. A lovely example of an instrument making its player shine, the piano a mere extension of him. Because this wasn’t about showing off or impressing his date (which he did effortlessly), his eyes remained on his hands or closed, his focus solely on the music and the product of the sound he made. He didn’t steal any glances her way to see how she responded or wink at her, and somehow that fact pointed to his authenticity as a musician.

When he was done, Joline applauded his efforts, grinning, appreciative that he didn’t show off like a rock star. “That was a beautiful piece, Sgar. Truly. Thank you for playing it for me.”

He bowed his head in humility, a rare moment for him. “I’m glad that you liked it.” He pushed to his feet after swinging sidesaddle on the piano bench. “Are you surprised?”

She nodded, biting her lower lip.

“It was written by my favorite composer.”

“I can tell.” Joline patted the lounge beside her, asking him to sit with her. “Your respect for it comes through. It makes sense.”

Ansgar sat beside her, his arm slung over the back, his hand hovering by her shoulder, cheating his body in her direction. “What makes sense?”

“What you do. There’s structure and mathematics and building materials in music as there are in construction,” she stated easily. “Music is made of notes, of course… but rhythms and melodies, chords and progressions, counterpoints and dynamics. Construction is about textures and structures, angles and perspectives.”

“I suppose that’s true. How do you know so much about it?” His fingers reached up and touched some of the strands of her ponytail.

She looked down at her folded hands in her lap. “My roommate in uni studied music, a concert pianist actually. I might have sat in a few music theory classes.”

He chuckled. “Did you make it a habit to sit in on classes outside your concentration?”

She laughed, her head angling coquettishly. “Not a habit, no. But there’s some overlap in my major, so I dipped my toe in the musical waters.”

“AH! You’re surrounded by musicians in your studies and in your job.”

She rolled her eyes, “Don’t worry, I won’t ask for hazard pay or overtime. I like the way you play.” She gestured for him to give her his hands when she waved her hands in her direction.

Ansgar willingly gave her both, pulling his arm down form the elevated position.

Joline tilted her head up and on a slant after tracing his elegant fingers with her own. “I always found musicians hands to be the sexiest.”

“Is that so?”

“Truly.”

“Is that why you fell into theatre management? To be around the musicians?”

Joline unraveled from her position, sliding her high heeled feet out from under to straight before her, slinging them over Ansgar’s lap. She felt more comfortable in his physical space and felt that familiar pull for his bedroom. “I wish I could claim that, but I’ve never been involved with a musician. Except for friends, of course… my roommate, my friends, my classmates. All musicians. With the most fascinatingly sexy hands. All of them.”

Ansgar layed his hands on her thigh, positioning them as if he played her like he did his Steinway, but he only brought her that little bit closer. “What was your uni like?”

She shrugged. ���I don’t know. Typical, I guess. All night cram sessions, midnight runs to McDonalds for brain food, congregating in one room to play a board game or watch a film, mini refrigerators, ramen noodle dinners, empty pockets, endless laundry and schedules to clean the bathroom.”

“How did you learn that you wanted to be in theatre?”

She reclined back, pondering it for a moment, “Gosh, I don’t know. When the two show days didn’t kill me?” She laughed to herself, her mind reminiscing to try to answer his question. “My uni ran shows for four weeks, one performance on Thursday and Friday and two performances on Saturday and Sunday. I remember, we did a production of Oklahoma my sophomore year. I was stage manager, my first as stage manager. I had three assistant stage managers, fifty cast members, and a set designed by the devil himself. I remember lying on the floor of the green room between shows feeling so drained, the mental capacity to manage that many people and cues drained me. That’s when I discovered M&Ms.”

“The chocolates?”

“They’re mystical and magic. That’s what the M’s stand for, I think. I survived on M&Ms,” she said matter of fact, in all seriousness.

“You survived on a sugar high.”

“You call it sugar high, I call it the power of M&Ms. They still get me through rough seasons or runs. Don’t you have any rituals or things you swear by?”

Ansgar slid his hands up towards her hip, enjoying the feel of her soft denim and her firm flesh underneath. “Oh, I don’t know. I suppose I do.”

She gave him a comfortable lead, but he didn’t elaborate on that. She found her opportunity to inspect the jagged and raised flesh on his arm. The scar had caught her attention more than once, but she never got the chance to ask in their fever to get physical. “What happened here?” she asked quietly, caressing her hand up and down the uneven scar tissue.

[ohtheseboysilove]

Ghost from the past V [Roger Taylor x F!Reader]

Words : 4, 500 K + (don’t know what happened)

Warnings : language, angst, fluff, the usual 

Summary :  Reader and Roger are in love and happy. Until Ally, first love and ex-girlfriend of Roger come back after years of silence, bringing chaos in their perfect life.

Note : finally chapter 5...im posting it earlier than I thought but m not fan of this one but I can’t do better honestly, chaper 6 & 7 are much better. I’m almost done with this story, I will probably do 9 chapters, maybe 10 but not more. I really appreciate all the love you sent me guys, it’s so so cool to read all your messages, thanks again ! I love you all my cutie pies !!

 Masterlist & Requests

@/none of these  gifs are mine xx

“Why didn’t you tell me ?” You asked Roger, your eyes puffy from the poor sleep you had the night before. “You should have tell me you were fucking married Rog ! Your ex-girlfriend had to do it, I’m so embarrassed right now, my god” You sighed deeply and rubbed your face, exhausted by all the previous events.

You and the drummer were currently sitting in your bed, facing each other to talk about the situation. He just came back from Ally’s place and even if you were hurt, you were a grown ass woman and decided to stop dramatising the last events, you needed to confront Roger about this wedding. You loved him too much to throw away three years of your life together without giving him a chance to explain himself. You tried to focus on the fact that the marriage was only valid in the state of Nevada and nowhere else...well he wasn’t entire sure of that but you decided to ignore that fact, for the sake of your mental health...You had a hard time to believe that he hid this marriage from you, purposely. You needed to understand.

“(Y/N), I swear on Seth’s head, I never thought about this night again, never. I completely forget about it until yesterday. I...fuck, I will do anything to prove you this wedding never meant anything.. You’re the only one I want to marry, I don’t want you to doubt about it, not for a second” He grabbed your hands and squeezed them before pressing a kiss on your wedding ring. “I swear, I forget about it, I never declared our...engagement to the english authority or whatever. I’m not even sure it’s valid, the papers probably never left this shitty wedding chapel” He shook his head, his gaze never leaving yours. You nodded slowly, feeling a little bit lighter. You knew your Roger, he was good at a lot of things but lying wasn’t one of his talent and when he had tell you he forget about this, you believed him.

“Okay Roger” You murmured and squeezed back his hands. Of course you believed him, you wouldn’t have accepted the ring if you had any doubt about his sincerity. He deserved a second chance. You weren’t perfect and he wasn’t either, no one was and maybe you would regret it later but right now, the only thing you wanted was to forget the evening before and had your fiancé back in your arms. Nothing else. “It was humiliating to hear about your wedding by Ally”

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s just never matter to me, it’s was just a drunk joke, nothing more” The blond shrugged and caressed gently your knee, trying to convince you. “And are you even surprise that something like this happened to me ? Getting drunk and married at Vegas ? You know how stupid I can be when I’m partying a bit too hard” He gave you a tentative smile and a small one creeped on your lips, he wasn’t totally wrong.

“I give you that. But this is the last time, Roger. I want to know everything, no more secret” He nodded eagerly and relieved was flowing on his features. “And I want...I want you to treat me like I matter to you more than Ally. You know I love Seth and I’m glad he is in our life but I never accepted to be the second woman in your life. Ally is her mother, I understand that and I want you to have a correct relation with her, I don’t want tension between the two of you, for Seth’s sake but for my own I’m asking you to be honest with her. I want you to tell her that I’m the one you love, not her anymore. She need to hear it from you”

“You think she still love me ?” The drummer asked with surprised face. “I never thought–“

“Of course she’s still in love with you Roger !” You snapped, how could be that blind ? He pinched his lips and nodded silently. “I can’t...I can’t just sit there and feeling like she is more important to you. I don’t want to stress every time you saw her, wondering if you’re gonna leave me for her, I...I don’t won’t live like that” I won’t marry you if the situation don’t change Roger”

“You have my words, baby. You are my priority, you and Seth, I’m sorry I had been so heartless with you. I should have noticed that my behaviour hurt you, I love you so much I thought it was enough for you to not be worry but it’s was clearly stupid” The blond sighed guiltily, he was nervous and sweaty. The fact that you talked about maybe not marrying him did make him understand how bad was the situation, much worse than he thought. “If it was you who had a baby with your ex always around, I would have completely lose my mind. I will...I will make Ally understand, she need to respect you and if she can’t do that, we will see each other only to picking and dropping Seth, nothing more. I would do anything to not losing you my love, I swear to you”

You stared at each other for several minutes before a small smile painted on your features. You were okay but he couldn’t screw up anymore. The atmosphere immediately relaxed after the intense conversation, bringing both of you at the edge of tears but it was necessary. Now you could move on.

He tried to peck your lips but put your hands on his face, pushing him away childishly. He whined and rested his head on your lap, his eyes looking even bigger from above. “Forgive me ? Please ?” He pouted and used his puppy eyes to convince you.

“Don’t think you can escape this one so easily Taylor” You pinched his cheek and slid your fingers into his messy hairs, trying to get ride of the knots. He smirked as he knew you weren’t piss off at him anymore. “I want you to cancel this wedding”

“But babe ! I need to go to Las Vegas for that ! It’s so far away and–“ He stopped talking when he saw your death stare, your fingers tugging at his hairs a bit more harder than necessary. “But I can totally do it– ouch babe ! I can do it for my beautiful fiancée”

“Good. It settled then” You let go of his hairs and he sat up, checking if his hairs were still on his head, his eyes looking at you suspiciously. “I hope you’re planning to go rapidly because I really don’t like the role of mistress you gave to me” You scoffed and he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I will...really soon” He tilted pouty lips toward you and sighed happily when you reply to his kiss. “Maybe you can come with me ?”

“I’m not very fond of the idea to going somewhere where you are married to someone else” You crossed your arm with a jaded face.

“Oh come on my little sweetheart” He pushed you onto the bed and crawled on top of you, nuzzling his pretty mouth against your neck. “We can have so much fun, just you and me, tons drinks and no cloth on” He sunk playfully his teeth onto your skin, pressing his hips against yours. “We didn’t go on weekend just the both of us since Seth entered our life, we...well, especially you, deserved some good time” You hummed quietly and Roger took that as an encouragement, tangled your legs together. “I can book you some massages for the first day, meanwhile I’m going cancelling this stupid wedding. Then we can do whatever you want, babe. What do you say ?” He raised his head and pressed your forehead together, putting all his weight on you.

“You’re crushing me, blondie” you scoffed as you pretended to be annoyed but both of you knew it wasn’t true. The drummer looked at you with hope in his pretty eyes and you pretended to think about it, not wanting to give in to quickly. The man really succeeded to turn the shitty situation he was, into a little romantic weekend, damn he was good. “Alright, I’m coming with you but only because I want to see the Grand Canyon”

He grinned widely and captured your lips for a steamy kiss which quickly turned into a hot make-out session. You slid a hand between your bodies, lightly palming his bulge through his pants. He moaned lowly into your mouth, bucking his hips into your hands for more friction. When his fingers wandered under your top, brushing your tits, you quickly slapped his hand and pushed him away.

“I don’t know who you think I am but I certainly don’t sleep with married man, Roger” You scoffed before getting up.

“Babe, seriously ?” He cried like a kid who didn’t have his ice cream and he made grabby hands toward you. “Please, come back to bed”

You ignored him and picked up clean clothes from your wardrobe.

“I’m going to take a shower and you’re not invited” You walked into the bathroom in your room and took care to lock the door behind you. The drummer mumbling something from the bed and you chuckled, pretty satisfied of yourself. “You better booked us this trip quickly because you’re not touching him until this marriage is cancel” You yelled through the door.

He booked the four-days trips the very same afternoon.

******************************************************************************

The next days went pretty smooth, you were excited about this trip, totally pushing aside the thoughts about Ally and Freddie and how you were hurt. You couldn’t really do more about them anyway. One of your friend told you to fight back against Ally but it wasn’t a good idea and you knew it. First and most important she was the mother of Roger’s kid and you will be his wife in few months, you and her would see each other even you didn’t want to, starting a war with her wouldn’t be a good thing neither for Rog or Seth.

Secondly, to be honest with yourself, you definitively weren’t good with conflicts, some people had loud mouth and didn’t take shit from anyone, well you weren’t like that. People could see you as a coward as you were avoiding arguments but you simply didn’t like quarrelling, you preferred drop the subject and continued your life, minding your own business. Ally seemed to be your contrary, you saw her humiliated a poor waitress at Freddie’s party and when she chatted her back, she became even louder until the other one decided she wasn’t worth her time.

If you started to be as nasty as her, you were sure she would win, it was in her nature. So, for now, you planned to avoid her or if it wasn’t possible, to had the less interactions possible with her, focussing on Roger instead. He was important, not her.

As soon as you came home from work, around four in the afternoon, the phone rang loudly in the flat.

“(Y/N) Taylor on the phone” The cute laugh of Roger echoing through your ears, making you smiled stupidly. “Hi love”

“I do love the sound of that, can’t wait to make it official” You bit your lower lip, entangling your fingers around the phone cord as you divagated about your wedding with the love of your life. “Are you still here baby ?”

His raspy voice brought you back on earth and you giggled softly. “Yeah, Rog, I’m here. What’s up ? Is everything okay at the studio ?”

“Well, we’re officially done with the album ! The Game is all ready to be release in two weeks” His excited tone made you smiled even wider.

“That’s great guys ! I’m so proud of you”

“When are you coming at the studio ?” You frowned and closed your eyes for a second, you always came to listen before anyone else the new album, you did it for the past three years and it was a sort of tradition.

“I...I don’t want to see Freddie Rog” You whispered sadly. “I really don’t want to face him right now”

“(Y/N), you always come, please. Veronica and Chrissie will be there too, I need you by my side, it’s important for me” You sighed quietly, feeling bad to turn his offer down.

But the only thought of seeing Freddie made your stomach churned.

“Rog...I’m sorry but we can celebrate tonight, just you and me” You proposed with a timid voice. “I can make your fa–“

“I understand (Y/N), it’s alright. I will see you later” He hanged up with a weak voice, you knew he was sad about your rejection.

You sighed deeply, rubbing your forehead. Did you overacted about seeing Freddy ?

You tried to distract yourself during the next half and hour but the only thing you could think of was Roger. Alone. Brian with Chrissie and their kid. John with Veronica and their two children. Freddie with Paul. But Roger would be all by himself as all the boys’ family would listened and congratulated them for the new record.

You kicked your own ass and quickly put your shoes on, grabbed your black jeans jacket and your handbag before leaving your apartment. You climbed in the first taxi you saw and gave the studio’s address. You quickly made your way through the different corridors of the place until finding the loudest room of the building. Jacob, the oldest son of Deaky and Veronica, ran next to you as his little sister was right behind, both of them giggling like crazy and pushing the door open.

“Hi auntie (Y/N)” You waved back and followed them inside looking for Roger.

The room was filled with Freddie’s voice as the new vinyl of the band was playing in the background. Brian was cuddling his son, both of them listening attentively to the music, as Chrissie was chatting with Veronica, a timid belly, popping out slightly.

You were wrong thinking Roger would be all alone. You smiled softly as Seth was in on Roger’s lap, his father’ sunglasses perched on his head, bobbing his cute face in rhythm. The drummer was beaming with pride, singing quietly the lyrics to him.

“Do you like Daddy’s songs my little angel ?” Of course Ally was here too. She was never far away.

“I love them Mum ! When I will be older I want to be a rock star like Dada !” He clapped his little hands together and his parents chucked at his enthusiasm. “Can I have fish fingers at the restaurant tonight mummy ?”

“You going to the restaurant tonight ?” Roger asked to Ally as he passed his fingers in Seth’s blond locks.

You were standing awkwardly at the entrance of the door, not very visible to the others as you were wondering if you should have came here or not. Maybe Roger was mad at you and didn’t want you here anymore.

Ally’s face flushed a bit, a thing you never witnessed before, it was weird. She was always confident but right now she was looking at Roger like a deer caught in the headlights, her fingers toying the hem of her shirt.

“Well I was thinking, we can go, the three of us, to the restaurant ? To celebrate your album. Seth is very excited to go out with Daddy and Mommy” She smiled hopefully at him and, just by looking at her, you saw how much she still loved Roger. She was totally in love with him, her nervousness was betraying her.

You swallowed quietly and took a step back, waiting anxiously for the drummer’s answer.

“I...hum, I already have plan with (Y/N) tonight, sorry” Her smile fell immediately as relieve ran through your veins. He rubbed awkwardly his shoulder, coughing a bit to avoid the deception on Ally’s face.

“But she’s not here. She didn’t even come to support to you even if she obviously know how important it is for you” She replied with bitterness.

“Ally, stop” His cold tone surprised her. “You and me, we need to talk after, I want you to stop talking shit about (Y/N), she’s gonna be my wife, get use to it” She seemed deeply offended and you decided to make know about your presence, satisfied by Roger’s answer.

You cleared your throat and knocked on the open door, walking in everyone’ sight, almost timidly. You hoped the blond wasn’t going to tell you to fuck off after refusing to come here in the first place. You couldn’t give this satisfaction to Ally.

“Hi everyone, sorry I’m late” As soon as you stepped inside, the three kids ran toward you, happy to see their auntie. Even Seth climbing down from his father’s lap and come toward you, the sunglasses sliding on his nose. “How are doing my cutie pies ?” You gave a collective hug to all the kids and chatted for few minutes with them.

You stood up and gave a quick hug to Chrissie, Brian and John, opting for a kiss on Veronica’s cheek as her belly was on the way and you didn’t want to hurt her or whatever. Freddie seemed uncomfortable, hesitating about how he was supposed to act after his last party. You gave him a simple hi Fred and a hi Paul without even looked at them before made your way to Roger who had stand up, Ally next him.

“(Y/N), Rog said you were working” She said with a tense smile.

You glanced at the drummer who seemed still hurt, his eyes looking at his shoes. You knew you made him sad when you refused to come, he liked to pretend he was a tough guy but inside, he was a big softie in desperate need of his family’s approval.

“Yes but being here to support the boys was more important” You shrugged and tucked a strand of hairs behind your hairs. “If I’m not too late, of course” It sounded more like a question as you timidly peered to Roger, your way to ask for his pardon.

He bit his lips before cracking a small smile, grabbing your forearm and tugging you into his embrace.

“’f course it’s not too late” You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck as he did the same with your waist. “I’m glad your here” He whispered to your ear before pressing a sweet kiss to your temple.

You could feel Ally’s burning gaze on your back, still standing there but for once she was the one out of place, bitterly looking at the both of you.

“I’m so sorry Roger, I’m so stupid sometime” You murmured against his shoulder, sighing peacefully.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, (Y/N). I should have understood after what Freddie said to you” You smiled gently at him as you raised your head, giving a deep kiss.

He seemed a bit surprise at the beginning, you weren’t really fan of big kiss in public but he happily replied, his lips moving in perfect synchrony with yours. When you heard Ally’s heels clicking furiously onto the floor as she made her way to the rest of the group, you couldn’t repress a smile curling up on your face.  

*************************************************************************************

"What do you mean you going to Las Vegas next month ?" Brian asked exasperatedly at Roger who just broke the new about your little trip.

"Well, I want to spend a fun weekend with my future wife before we have to left for our tour" Roger smirked, an arm around your shoulder. "And I also have to cancel the wedding I had with Ally during our A Night at the opera tour, I mean I’m going to get married for real this time, want to do the things correctly" He gently squeezed your arm and you pressed back his thigh, where your hand was sagely resting. 

Everyone decided to all go together at the restaurant to celebrate the album, you were sat next to Roger and his son was on his other side, calmly sipping his apple juice. You pinched your lips as you saw Ally’ shocked face when the blond talked about the cancellation of their wedding, truly priceless. She glanced at you and you pretended you didn’t see her nasty look. She probably regretted to told you about it now.

"But Rog, do you know both you and Ally are supposed to sign the paper ?" John pipped as he was cutting Emily’s meat.

"What ? No...I...do I really ?" Roger frowned and you tended your jaw as Ally looked deeply relieved. And amused. 

"It make sense yes" Veronica shrugged. "She has to sign the paper to get married, it the same process to dissolve a marriage, I guess"

"Oh she’s not wrong Rog, you need me" Ally commented happily, her usual smirk back on her features. "I would love to come but I can’t bring Seth to Vegas, obviously"

Of course she would find a way to keep them married as long as she could. You cleared your throat and turned to Roger.

"Maybe your mom could watch Seth ? And Ally can go back to him as soon as the problem is solve" 

"You’re right baby. I will call my mom tomorrow and book a ticket for you Ally” He nodded, satisfied to the solution you proposed and took a sip of his champagne.

Great, now Ally was tagging along for your romantic trip, absolutely awesome.

****************************************************************************

You sighed annoyingly as you washed the dirty plates, mumbling against Ally. Who else anyway ? She was fucking rooted at your dinner’s table for the past hour, chatting with Roger. Seriously it was friday night, didn’t have something else to rather than squatting your living room ? She came to drop Seth for the weekend and Roger, always the sweetheart, offered a beer, it was a big mistake. She managed to drink so slowly that all the bubbles were popped, the thought that the beer was probably had become warm did put a smile on your face.

Then it was dinner time, earlier than usual as Seth was still young so obviously when the meal finished to cook, she was still here and the little boy asked her to eat with you and his father. Roger asked you if you were okay with that, like you could say something else than an of course. You didn’t want Seth to hate you because his mom was a bitch.

So you painfully watched Ally ate your delicious risotto and monopolizing the conversation, talking about her and as usual, the past.

“But then my mom, Seth and me went to Milan and oh I swear it’s probably my favourite city in Italy !” She was speaking too loudly and drinking your favourite bottle of red wine, giggling stupidly at every words which were coming out from Roger’s mouth. “Did you went to Italy (Y/N) ?

You contained yourself to not roll your eyes. The only time she spoke to you was to proving you how her life and love story with the drummer was better than you. It was subtle, making you even more annoyed.

“Sadly no, I never went to Italy” You gave a fake smile and took a large spoonful of your plate to stopping you from saying something nasty.

“ Oh ! That’s such a shame !” She was so over-dramatic, it was absolutely pathetic. “Roger brought me to Venice for one of my birthday, it was so romantic, right Rog ?”

She fluttered exaggeratedly her eyelashes to the drummer and this time you rolled your eyes, deeply. She was ashamed of nothing.

“I will bring you to Italy, love. We can go for our next Valentine’s day” He glanced tenderly at you and Ally’ smile disappeared into a thin line

But she kept going on, speaking about every things that could make you uncomfortable. The blond didn’t really answer, humming and nodding from time to time, focusing on make Seth eating his vegetables.

“Your risotto is really good (Y/N) !” Ally exclaimed as she pushed back her empty plate. You smiled and waited for the but coming. “The only thing, oh please don’t take it wrong...the meat had a strange taste” She made a whiny smile, shrugging.

“That’s because it’s not meat, it’s tofu Ally” You explained as you poured yourself another glass of wine, finishing the bottle but you didn’t want to grab another one, praying she would understand it was time to go.

“Tofu ? Why– can’t you to buy real meat ? Oh my...have you and Rog money’s problems ?” Roger shook his head with an amused smile.

“We don’t have any problems Ally, (Y/N) is vegetarian, that’s all”

“Oh...right. I heard it was kind of the new trend to follow” She watched her son eating the tofu without any problem and seemed almost annoyed by it. “More and more celebrities are doing it, but I didn’t think you would do it too (Y/N). Plus, I read somewhere that it wasn’t real safe for your health ya know ? Our body do need meat” She smiled gently but her ton was a tad too snobbish and pretentious for your taste.

Before the drummer could answer, you stood up to take away the empty plates, you couldn’t stand her presence for another minute.

“I’m vegetarian since I’m fifteen Ally, so thank you but you can keep your advices for someone who is interested in it” You gave her a big smile as she tensed at your mocking voice. “And I’m not doing it to follow the trend, but by personal conviction, you should try sometime”

Her outrageous face was absolutely priceless and couldn’t contain the smirk on your face. After that you heard her complain to Roger who was hiding his cheeky smile behind his hand.

You were supposed to put Seth to bed, as you wanted to bound more with the little boy but Ally ended to do it with Rog who insisted he could handle it by himself. But she insisted more. So you had to witness Roger and Ally bathed Seth, then read him a story as she was glued to the drummer’ side but Seth was so happy to have his both parent putting him to bed, it caused an ache in your heart.

“Thank you Rog, I spent a delicious evening with you, like always” She hugged a little bit too long and couldn’t resist to press a kiss on his cheek.

“See you on monday Ally” You didn’t even look at her when she finally left and sighed deeply.

Roger came to you and wrapped his arms around you waist, kissing softly your hairs. You scrunched you nose in disgust and quickly wiped away the flashy red lipstick from his cheek, making him laughed.

“She is annoying” You mumbled as you put your head on his chest.

“I know, I hope you ready for sunday, she’s gonna be even worse”

Seth’s fifth birthday was in two days and you were anything but ready to deal with Ally and her family

**********************************************************************************

Tag list : @16wiishes @borhapqueen92 @thewinchesterchronicles @khaleesi2017 @hawaiipeople-blog @witchbloodsworld @broken-pieces @spideyyypeter @vanitysfairr @glowingez @queenmaracasandlove @yourealegendroger @hopefully-aesthetically-pleasing @launopeach @fearless2tobeme @awkwardangelshezza @queen-turtle-boiii @blushingwueen @fandomnerdxox

[spirit-of-the-void]

Ebony and Ivory (V x Reader Fanfic) Chapter 40

Author’s notes: Howdy. So this is the ending of Ebony and Ivory, and to be honest I spent a long time working on it. Things have been a bit wild and confusing, especially with how divided people seem on the story ending. But...writing this long ass fanfic for you guys has been a privilege, even through depression and health issues.

The only thing I’m unsure of is if I should write the Vergil ending--because I want to reserve all my vergil energy for the Echo Chamber fic. I’ll let you guys decide--let me know if you still want the alternate ending, cause if so I’ll do my best. Either way, I’ll still be writing Echo Chamber.

Chapter 40

Epilogue

(Several Months later)

You never wanted to get up from your bed.

This was bliss in its truest form, was it not? Waking to warmth, face tucked against the neck of your lover and limbs tangled with the bed sheets. It was another beautiful, sunny day in Fortuna as usual, the sound of waves rolling against the shore and V’s slow breathing the only melody for your ears. Warm, so warm. This had to be heaven--there was doubt that anything else could feel so perfect. You let out a gentle sigh, mind feeling foggy with sleep and body delightedly comfortable as you stretched out along your poet’s form, toes pressing against his bare calves. It was so strange, you had gotten used to V feeling cool and frail for the entire time you traveled to the Qliphoth tree; feeling his warmth and solidity was a gift you would never take for granted again, not after witnessing him crumble his way up to becoming Vergil again.

V was doing better than he ever had, you and Kyrie made sure of that. The motherly woman had been worried upon seeing V’s ribs and rail-thin form, and seemingly made it her sworn duty to get the poet healthy. He learned pretty quick that arguing with her was not the best idea, not once she got rolling. No skipping meals, taking vitamins, listening to you both hounding him and not uttering so much as a peep of complaint. You both only backed off after his bones stopped showing through his skin, letting him decide on his diet after that. Not much had changed--V preferred eating light over big meals, which was understandable with such a new body. Months later and he was looking more lean and healthy, still a lanky man but less frail and with a bit more muscle. That cane was less as a tool to walk with, and more of a conductor's baton he used in battle.

Well-fed and well-rested. As he should be.

You had spoken of what happened in the Qliphoth tree, and to be honest you had forgiven him for everything that transpired before words of apology had left those lovely lips. Understanding could be found--there was  desperation, a need to return to who he was before. All that was gone now, V finally his own person with a full soul on top of it all. The only way to go was up, which you were more than doing. The new time together only strengthened how much you loved him, deepening that bond of trust and acceptance again after the lies and mistakes fractured it. Piece by piece, bit by bit...things were becoming as perfect as they could be, and in the end that was all you wanted. 

The things you once took for granted were now so precious, weren’t they? The feeling of V kissing your fingers, the way his hair felt under your hands. Those jade eyes, his sly smile...having them back felt like a dream, one you never wanted to wake from. It was the little moments of simple, domestic life that seemed so enchanting after he came back, moments you thought would never be had with him. Sharing a cup of coffee on the beach while the sun was still rising, watching him read poetry to the children, helping teach him how to cook with the aid of Kyrie and Nico. He was pretty hopeless in front of a stove before those teachings, but learned very quickly. If you weren’t mistaken, he found a joy for it too--he would sneak peeks at cooking novels and shows on several occasions, and offered to help with dinner often.

Something about it was...very cute.

As for Vergil, he returned back to Devil May Cry with Dante and the women. You were shocked, the spiky-haired male put up no fuss when his brother instructed him to do so, and had apparently put in a lot of effort to make it a functioning business. Not only that, but he had been making a determined effort to be a part of Nero’s life now that everything was said and done. His father and uncle now visited once a week, keeping the kids entertained and staying for dinner to talk and socialize. Kyrie loved it, Nero was undecided, and Nico still hated Vergil’s guts. Dinners were filled with hostile stares from the mechanic, which Vergil easily ignored. Hearing him ask Nero questions about his life, seeing them spar on the beach and Vergil actually trying to teach him things? Odd. But...maybe those trials left their mark, so the Outsider must have done something right.

Speaking of the God, you were back to talking with him. A shrine now rested in an alcove on a nearby cliff, glowing at night with the purple light of lanterns and humming with the Void’s energy. Corvo, as always, managed to talk sense into your father figure--He was there when you spoke last, promising the keep the God behaving while you got your life together. The Outsider wasn’t going to argue it, that much was sure. You thanked him for bringing V back, and managed to repair some of the trust that was lost, bit by bit as you did with V. The shrine was now visited once a week, offers left on its alter and gone the next morning. Food, books, sometimes things you crafted yourself. The Outsider seemed to enjoy food the most--you doubted he got to eat much of anything in a place like that.

Regardless. 

The kids warmed up to V well, easily sensing his uncertainty and all around awkwardness when it came to living normally. They liked being able to teach him things--like how to clean pots properly, how to make s’mores when a bonfire was lit in the backyard. Little things that V didn’t seem to think about or know, either because Vergil didn’t know them or because some things were lost when the two were separated. Being reborn had to be hard, you were always patient with him when a new problem rose up. V didn’t seem to mind either, it made the kids feel super important, like they could sense the poet’s vulnerability. Plus what could be better than having another person in the house to talk and play with? Julio in particular seemed to like the poetry, and asked the goth about it a lot.

Speaking of the kids, you knew that they would be going into town with Kyrie in the morning to practice for their performance in the spring festival. It was starting to get warmer outside bit by bit after winter came and went, but the day would be comfortably warm for the kids as they made props at Madame Elenor’s shop. You could hear them downstairs already, chattering excitedly about the prospect of seeing the other kids in Fortuna, practicing their lines and getting to paint trees and scenery to be moved into the theater at the square. 

Now that you thought about it...almost a year had passed, hadn’t it? Since you were brought to this world.

So much has happened.

So many terrible, wonderful things.

Only this time around, everything is perfect.

You let out a contented sigh, snuggling closer against V’s wiry form and feeling him shift and mumble lightly in his sleep. It was April now, and you planned to go through May and June in peace and delight. Just having these past few months has been so wild, celebrating Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New year’s Eve...all the things you were once certain V would never have, but got to have in kind. It was shaping up to be an amazing year, and you were ready for each and every one after that to come. 

That was the thought you drifted in and out of sleep on, knowing full well that you didn’t have to meet up with Kyrie and the others until noon. Nero would be out discussing the next mission with Nico, Dante, and Vergil as well until returning to go out with the rest of you. A day out to lunch was in order, his uncle and father declining the invitation despite how insistently Nero had offered it. Something about working some family things out had been their excuse--you were fairly certain they intended to visit their mother’s grave. Some things were far more important, you could easily understand that. Besides, being around Vergil felt...weird sometimes. Like staring at a painting that once held color, and seeing only black and white.

You tried to shake the thought, realizing for the first time in months you and V had the house to yourselves, peace and quiet reigning supreme once the kids were heading down the street. You loved your new family, you really did, but most mornings were rife with Nico’s invention shenanigans, or the kids finding their energy after breakfast and play-fighting with Nero. To finally be able to lie in bed with V, only the warm breeze drifting through the windows and the sun on your body...it was so nice, and needed. Maybe that was why Kyrie decided she would take the kids there herself, insisting you sleep in after “working so hard with Nero and the others”. Sweet woman, you adored her for that.

Especially when you felt V finally begin to stir, his muscles stretching and a soft groan leaving those beautiful lips. You decided to keep your eyes closed, wanting to savor the moments of relaxation for a little while longer and act like sleep kept you in its gentle grasp. You weren’t disappointed--V’s fingers stroked through your hair, nails tracing feather-light patterns on your scalp before trailing down your neck. If you were a cat, you would have purred at a feeling like that. As it was, you shivered softly in delight as you shifted even closer, one hand gracing his bare chest and over the faded tattoos that rested there.

After everything was said and done, you both shared a connection with the familiars. They generally spent most of their time in V considering he had been lacking in power for those first few months. But being born from the Void had left him with some byproducts, and he was learning how to use them at his own pace and tolerance level. The poet had been astounded at how much it burned to use the abilities of the Void, learning pretty early on that you dealt with it all the time--he didn’t like that, but reluctantly didn’t push things on it further.

The tattoos only extended over his arms and chest now, like sleeves that drifted over his collarbones. It was there that you traced your fingers, feeling his chest rise with a slow breath as your fingers danced a line from there to his stomach, resting there to feel the muscles bunch and relax. He was so sensitive, ticklish--a delightful thing, one learned pretty quickly after shenanigans had broken out on a particular evening. Cute. There were so many things about him now that were absolutely charming.

He let out a low hum, grasping your fingers lightly between his own and lifting them to his face. Those soft lips brushed your knuckles, tender and loving as you kept your eyes closed in an attempt to feign off waking a bit more.

“The sun descending in the west, the evening star does shine,” V murmured against your skin, his other arm wrapping around your waist to tug you closer as he continued, “The birds are silent in their nest, and I must seek for mine.”

You couldn’t help it--a smile broke over your lips, eyelids fluttering open to stare at his face in amusement. He always took your breath away,  a vision of beauty and perfection. His hair was black again with Nightmare’s presence, and the tattoos were dark on one side from housing...was that Griffon this time? You paused, feeling Shadow rouse briefly in your thoughts before plunging back again, giving you both the privacy you so craved. The demons weren’t oblivious, they knew you’d have the house to yourselves come morning.

Regardless, you let out a contented sigh, resting your chin on his chest and staring up at him with adoring eyes as you mumbled sleepily, “Do you intent to wake me every morning to William Blake?”

He grinned at that, tucking a stray hair behind your ear as he replied, “Perhaps. Does it displease you, my little Sparrow?” He kissed the top of your hair, voice rumbling over you as he added, “Would you prefer I wake you to…. other delights?”

Judging by his low, husky tone you knew exactly what these other delights could be. The man was insatiable now that he had this new body and freewill--not that you were complaining. 

“A beast has awakened in my tender poet,” You mumbled, feigning an exaggerated swoon and tucking your face against his neck again, “One that intends to eat me alive, always hungering for my supple flesh….!”

That earned you a low chuckle, V turning and nipping lightly at the skin behind your ear as he growled, “And you call me the dramatic one--you could put writers to shame when you speak in such ways,” Both of his arms wrapped around your waist, breath brushing your ear and making you shiver as he breathed, “Those who restrain desire do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained.”

Leave it to him to find a poetry quote for everything. But he was right in an odd way--there was no restraining a desire like the one shared between you and the poet. It was a charged energy in the air, one that sent a bolt of arousal right to your core and left you aching in the best way. A soft sound of want left you as he pressed up against your back, his hardness very apparent through the thin fabric of your panties and body  deliciously warm as it cradled yours. Feeling a bit bold, you wiggled against him, smiling when he sucked in a sharp breath and put a very firm hand on your hips to still the movement. There was definitely no room for restraint when you were playing games like that.

He flipped you over in the next instant, your back pressed to the bed and both hands pinned by his as he stared down at you with heady, jade eyes. Your heart picked up its pace immediately at the sight of him, feeling almost dizzy at his beauty. Hair tousled from sleep, eyes hooded and staring at you with the most delicious hunger...Christ, he was so achingly lovely, wasn’t he? Especially with the sun making patterns on him like that, the curtains drifting lightly overhead and stroking his bare shoulders like a lover’s caress. Your face flushed despite how many times you had seen this same view, flustered all over again as he brushed a thumb over those parted lips and released one of your arms.

Oh dear. You could come undone at this rate.

“How I enjoy seeing that,” V whispered softly, shivering when you nipped at his fingers in their exploration, “The way you gaze at me, sparrow...it makes me ache in the best way.”

You smiled, wiggling lightly underneath him and enjoying how desire grew in his expression in response, “I can’t help it...I feel like you get prettier and prettier every day.” 

It wasn’t an understatement, either. Each time you awoke to his loving arms it was like seeing him all over again, overtaken by his lovely face and soft lips. Could you possibly love the man more? You had thought not, but each morning was proving you otherwise. 

V clicked his tongue at your response, seeming doubtful as he kissed a line from your neck down to your chest. He plucked at the straps on the camisole covering the parts of you he desired, pulling them down agonizingly slow until your breasts were bare to the glowing sunlight. You let out a slow exhale, feeling him slide those loving hands up from your stomach to the pert mounds aching for his touch and shivering when he gave each one attention in kind. The idle swirl of his thumb over a nipple, his eyes staring at you with the most unbelievable fascination and desire as he dipped his head to taste as well…

 Christ, you could have come just at that--his tongue was so warm, swirling over the pink tip of your breast and sucking gently until a light mewl of want left your lips. You buried your hands in his silken, ebony locks, eyes closing and head tilting back as you savored the tantalizing sensation of his mouth on your sensitive flesh. He was such a good lover, always loving, always willing to learn and try new things. The past few months had allowed him to come into his desires and sexual preferences bit by bit whenever you both could find the privacy, and that was always enjoyable. He was discovering a preference for being a bit more dominant in bed, which earned zero complaints from your end as well. The idea of V pinning you down and fucking you senseless was definitely an appealing one.

But moments like these, filled with gentle touches and soft exploration...they reminded you so much of that first time, but better. More familiar, more charged than ever before. 

Especially when he finally leaned back, hooking his fingers over the lace of your panties and slowly tugging them down and off. You obediently lifted your legs for him, eyes opening to watch as he tossed the scrap of fabric unceremoniously to a corner of the room. The action almost made you giggle, a smile tugging at your lips at the way he dramatically flung them away. He returned his attention back a moment lady, eyes drinking in the sight of your bare legs and dripping desire waiting for the pleasure you knew would come.

“Pretty and pink,” He murmured, stroking his hands up your thighs and squeezing as he coaxed them apart, “Just for me.”

You let out a low hum in response, shivering when he bent your knees and pressed both thighs back a bit more. Fully exposed to his eyes, glistening in the drifting sunlight and just as he described. The anticipation was killing you--this slow pace was delicious torture, and every second was like heaven and hell in one. But if the past few months had taught you anything, it was that good things came to those who waited.

“What do you have planned for me, slick?” You whispered, biting your lip as he pressed a kiss from your knee then down to your inner thigh. Part of you knew, and the need growing inside was making your toes curl in excitement.

V smirked, raising his eyes from your body as a playful look slipped across his face. He slid one finger idly down your wet folds, smirk growing as your breath hitched and you actively strained to keep your hips pressed against the mattress. Infuriating man, he knew exactly what effect he had over you, and exploited it in kind.

“I’m simply playing my part, Sparrow,” He replied in a husky tone, swirling a finger over your sensitive clit and down to your entrance in one tantalizing movement, “Hungering for your supple flesh...a beast with the intentions of eating you alive. Who will save this fairest of damsels from me? Surely no one is around to hear your screams for help.”

You giggled at V’s low, ominous growl, squeaking when he pressed his fingers against that sensitive spot and jolting you in place. Very sensitive, very needy.

“Bold of you to assume I’ll scream for help…” You breathed, voice trailing off in a soft whimper as he continued those slow rotations of his fingers. Each touch made you ache, throbbing and wanting to reach that peak only he could bring. But V was purposely drawing it out, finding amusement in your response and pausing for a moment in his actions.

The dark-haired male grinned, eyes meeting yours like a predator ready to devour his prey as he let out a low purr of, “Oh, you’ll be screaming alright.”

Please--My heart will stop if you keeps saying things like that.

But you didn’t get to say that out loud. V dipped his head down in the next moment, spreading your glistening folds with his fingers as he stroked a tongue over your aching flesh. Your hips jolted on their own, a soft whimper leaving you as he started devouring you just as promised. Slowly, carefully, taking his sweet time and savoring at his own pace. It took every ounce of control to keep your thighs in place, trembling lightly with the strain of not moving. Restraint? What was that again? Your thighs were strong, you didn’t want to accidentally crush him between them with how fantastic he was making you feel. Stroke after stroke of his tongue, warm and wet as he teased your clit and swirled over your aching entrance. 

Too much, not enough. You arched into his touch, soft moans leaving your lips and fingers gripping the bed sheets. What a wicked man you were in love with, bringing you slowly to the edge of pleasure with his tongue and not swayed by your soft pleas for more, for faster movements and more pressure. So close, fuck I’m already so close. He knew it too, a pleased hum leaving his throat and sending delicious vibrations over your clit as he sucked it between his lips.

“V...V…” You whimpered, fingers slipping into his silken locks to tug lightly as he continued to pleasure you right on the edge of that peak, “I need…please…”

The poet’s eyes practically rolled back in his head when you pulled his hair, knowing full well how much he loved it. That encouragement was just what V needed, his jade eyes meeting yours briefly before he tugged you closer, fingers gripping your thighs hard as he stroked his tongue over your clit, swirling and sucking with enough pressure to wring a cry from your lips. You were prone and gasping as he had his wicked way, hands grasping the poet’s head and thighs shaking as that peak grew and grew with his actions. Unrelenting, you were coming undone again. It was a good thing no one was home, because you couldn’t be quiet no matter how hard you tried. At least an attempt was made, but that wasn’t what V wanted. The ruthless man loved nothing more than to hear you wail with satisfaction, body writhing as he made you come on his tongue and fingers.

Which is exactly what he did.

Your head tilted back as you finally crested, something close to a sob of relief and pleasure bursting from your lungs and thighs shaking as he held them in place, “V…!”  It felt good, so good your toes curled and hips arched into his touch. He was doing a number on your heart, that was for sure--it was pounding in your chest, especially when V continued to tease and stroke his tongue over your flesh, not having his fill until you were whimpering and writhing from too much stimulation. Only then did he pull back, jade eyes staring at your spent form with satisfaction and amusement. He licked his glistening lips, wiping them with those elegant fingers and staring at the traces of your arousal left behind. That expression almost looked smug.

The poet’s gaze traveled over your form, taking in your chest as it rose and fell with each breath, face flushed as you slung an arm over your eyes. What a way to start your morning, listening to the waves crash onto the sand outside and feeling the most unbelievable pleasure from the man you loved...what a gift, one you would cherish every day until the end of time. To have him here after months of feeling like you wouldn’t, reminded again and again that this was reality...it made the bad times seem so far away, like a dream long forgotten in the realm of waking.

V seemed to understand, even when you didn’t say it. He leaned over your body in the next moment, pulling your arm away so his lips could find purchase. You sighed in delight, kissing back and wrapping both arms around his neck as you shared a moment of peace and tenderness.

“Still with me, love?” V murmured, a grunt leaving him when you wrapped both legs around his waist, thighs squeezing lightly, “Ah...gentle now, darling...I’m not done with you yet.”

He must certainly wasn’t. You kissed a line from his cheek to that sharp jawline, biting down lightly where neck met shoulders. V shuddered at your touch, gasping when you stroked a leg over his hard length, fully erect after taking so much time eating you out. Someone was certainly eager, weren’t they? You doubted he wanted to wait any longer, especially not with you grinding on him like that.

“I’m all yours,” You murmured, stroking a hand through his hair and giving it a light tug. He groaned immediately, head resting on your shoulders and breath coming faster, “Do you like that?”

V gripped your hip with one hand, bracing his weight on the other as he murmured, “I do...quite a bit.” 

Such a far cry from the bashful way he admitted it the first time around--now honest with desire and wants, needy as he leaned into each and every touch. You had learned so much about what he liked, what parts of that lovely body were the most sensitive. His fingers, shoulders, neck, hair, spine...all the best spots to kiss and touch, scraping your nails over the shoulder blades of his back and sucking the skin on his neck. That was going to leave a hickey, there was no doubt. But it would be yours to see, a secret. 

“S...sparrow...Y/N…” V groaned, grinding his length over your slick heat and making you both pause at the sensation of it, “Are you...can I…?”

“Please.”

It was all the affirmation he required, V rising from you to position his hips right where he needed them to be. You eagerly tilted your legs back again, spread and wanting for his cock. An invitation, one he would never ignore. What did you look like in his eyes, right at that moment? Hair still messed up from sleep, breasts bare and body in a position that was clearly meant for him and him alone. All yours, always. The poet almost looked ...entranced by the sight, bowing his head over you as the tip of his hard length pressed to your entrance, slick with the arousal left from your previous orgasm and finding no resistance. A breath passed between you both as he slipped inside, groan breaking past his lips while you took him inch by inch. Wet enough that it was an easy slide, body trembling eagerly as he filled you up in the best way.

This felt so right, like it always did. Two puzzle pieces meeting together, like your souls were meant for each other. 

A low groan escaped his parted lips, body pausing for a moment to feel your wet heat. You stared at his face in a mixture of desire and wonderment, loving how pleasure influenced his expression and made his hand grip your wrist ever so tighter. Even after all these months, your poet was so careful with you--waiting so there was time to adjust, your body relaxing around his cock and aching to feel him pound into you like before. You squeezed your legs around his waist for a moment, hips rising off the bed to grind encouragingly against his length. Such actions only elicited a gasp from you both, V’s head tilting back to show the smooth expanse of his throat and the slight bob of his adam’s apple upon swallowing. Such a pretty boy, struggling for control. You liked seeming him unrestrained every once in a while, but when he was trying to stay on his best behavior…

“So bashful,” You murmured, biting your lip when he tilted his jade eyes down to meet yours, “What happened to not restraining desire? Prove me wrong, Shakespeare.”

V let out a low, breathless chuckle at your challenge, leaning do so his nose lightly brushed yours. Breaths mingling in the air between, both bodies trembling with the need to seek pleasure in one another. His hips pressing on yours freed a whimper in your chest, resisting the urge to grind your clit against his skin. 

“Ask me nicely, Sparrow,” He breathed, nipping softly at your lips while he continued to rub his body lightly against yours. Just enough friction to not be enough. Your breath was hitching in response, toes pressing into his lower back to urge on what you knew he wanted to, but purposely denied, “And I’ll indulge us both. Honesty would do us both good, wouldn’t you agree?”

You flushed at his coy, strained smile, those jade eyes firm and far more unyielding as you whimpered, “You are the worst, you know that right--ahhh...”

Your words slipped into a soft moan when he retreated a bit, thrusting in once more before pausing his hips. Damn it. You knew what he wanted--V always loved making you say things that made you blush. He grinned, as if sensing your thoughts and enjoying them in kind. Mischief played a part in the desire now--this was payback for every time you cock-teased him in the past few months, there was no doubt about that. 

“Mmmm…” V hummed, lifting one of your hands and nibbling on each finger in order as he replied softly, “Perhaps I am, but acknowledging that isn’t getting you any closer to having me...is it?”

So smug, so cocky.

Your resolve was far weaker than his patience, tempered by neediness and desire. Especially when he was grinding on you like that, pausing right when pleasure started to build and leaving you aching. His elegant fingers decided to fondle your breasts, teasing the stiff peaks until you were practically squirming. Right how he wanted you.

Face flushed, one hand raised to cover his jade eyes as he chuckled lightly in victory, your lips parted to utter softly and desperately, “Pl...please...fuck me...V...Please…?”

He let out a pleased purr, pulling your hand off to see just how flustered you were and grinning in delight. A kiss to your warm cheek followed, V cupping your jaw with gentle fingers as he whispered, “So precious...you can take me making love to you every night yet cannot utter those simple words without embarrassment?”

Something about it felt a lot different than acting on instinct--begging always made you feel bashful, especially when he wanted it. 

“Hush,” You muttered, pressing both hands to V’s cheeks like it would somehow convey your growing sense of need, “No more teasing, just--”

Your words were cut off in a sharp gasp when V finally yielded to your demands, hip snapping back before plunging in with one fluid movement. Blessedly--you could have sobbed in relief when the motion continued. Right there, just like that. He seemed to be done with the shenanigans too, drawing your arms around his neck with one hand and bracing with the other. Unrelenting now, lips capturing yours in a frenzied kiss while his cock plunged in and out of your aching sheath. It was definitely good that you both were home alone, because the lewd sounds you were making would definitely be heard by others. As it stood, anyone who walked down the beach could run the chance of hearing, but you didn’t care.

You bit down on V’s shoulder, kissing the mark a moment later and trailing those same kisses up to his neck. Something about V awash in pleasure and lust was poetic in its own right. Gorgeous, breathtaking. He was releasing sounds of pleasure, gasps and groans that vibrated deliciously against your eardrums.  No longer bashful like that first time, noises released without hiding and face pressing to your shoulder. His cock throbbed inside, growing closer and closer to filling you with his cum with each frenzied grind of V’s hips. You wanted it, needed it, craved it. Ever part of you now strained for that second release, wanting to make him feel good too.

“Y/N…” V rasped, a heady moan leaving his lips as both hands entered his hair for a firm yank, “Just like that...I’m so close, dearest Sparrow…”

You let out a soft whimper, squeezing tighter around him and keeping that firm hold on his silken locks, “Come for me...Give me all of it, sweetheart.”

Your own orgasm was fast approaching, cresting when V tilted your hips a bit further back in his thrusts and stroked those beautiful fingers over your clit. Fuck--A sharp cry left your lips, hands gripping the poet’s hair hard as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. After the first orgasm, this one made your legs quake with the level of stimulation and muscles clench inside. Almost too much, right on the cusp of how much rapture you could stand. It spiraled V into his own pleasure, slender hips stuttering and a breathy groan brushing by your ear as his hot load spilled in spurts. Your eyes practically rolled back in your head, body arching up to take all he had to offer and chest rising and falling in gasps. 

A gentle breeze drifted through the window as V slumped over, careful not to put all his weight on your resting body. It seemed so serene for a moment, your eyes drifting open to see the white curtains still swaying over you both, V’s shoulders rising and falling with his slowing breaths. Peaceful...tender, just as it should have been. Everything felt so unbelievably perfect, your body wonderfully spent and enjoying the fading throb of pleasure as you stroked a hand through V’s silken hair. He was your everything, every hope and desire and happiness wrapped into one bundle of a man. In that heartbeat of time, you felt so incredibly blessed, like a thousand years of lost happiness were nothing compared to what you got to share with him. All the loss, all the pain...they were a flickering, dying candle compared to the flame he kindled within.

Happy...you were so happy tears threatened to spring to your eyes.

You released a contented sigh, holding V in a tender embrace as you both caught your breath. Hours could have passed without caring, but...it took only a few minutes to gather everything back. There were still things that needed to be done, after all. Your poet was the first to raise his head, jade eyes meeting your gaze with an expression that took your breath away--One of absolute love and adoration, V staring at you like the entire world rested in your vision. A pleased rumbled left his chest, black hair swaying slightly as he leaned down to kiss your lips like you were air after years of suffocating. Such a kiss said a lot, more than any words could. 

“Thank you,” He murmured against your mouth, peppering kisses from there to your jaw as he continued softly, “For loving me despite...everything.”

You hummed lightly at that, pressing both hands to his cheeks so he could meet an adoring gaze of your own. He was always saying things of such a nature, as if he had something to prove or loving him was somehow difficult.

“You make it easy,” Another kiss to his lips, this one short and quick, “I would love you no matter what, V. You know that right?”

Even if you betrayed me again.

Even if things fall to pieces.

You are the reason I breathe.

V wrapped both arms around you, pressing his forehead to yours as the words hung in the air for a few seconds. What was that expression he wore on his face? Something between thankfulness and...regret. Was he thinking of what happened in the Qliphoth tree again, about the moments he lied to you and became Vergil again? It had never clicked before, but...if V had been awake and present, he saw every reaction you had, every tear and heartache. It would explain why he couldn’t let go of his guilt, or why he felt the need to thank you every day for staying with him.it was so hard to move past all of that, but...you did have four months to work things out with friends and family while Vergil spent it all in hell.

Regardless...you knew these things could be worked on with time, and V was more than worth the effort.

So you smiled, pressing a light kiss to V’s nose before pulling back and reaching for the phone resting on your window sill. V took the hint pretty easily, letting out a quiet yawn as he pulled away and stretched his long arms over his head. You tried not to stare, really you did--but christ, he was so lovely. His muscles bunching and relaxing, skin of his shoulders marked with your kisses and bites... We have things to do today, no staying in bed. The movement slipped his length from your body, causing a light shiver and sigh in response while you say up as well. Making love in the morning was nice, but you would both need a shower after throwing the sheets in the washer. A small price to pay, one that you were willing to deal with. 

V took up the task of cleaning you up at the very least, leaving the bed briefly to get a washcloth from the bathroom cabinet. It gave ample opportunity to stare at his cute little butt as he departed, which was an absolute delight. He smirked at you on the way down, not oblivious to your wandering eyes in the slightest. Some forethought made him grab sweatpants from the banister before heading toward the door, which was probably for the best--on the off chance someone came home early, seeing him naked would not be ideal.

Upon a brief glance at your phone, you saw it was ten thirty in the morning, giving plenty of time to shower and get ready for lunch at noon. There would be no viable excuse for being late, and it would be rude to the children on top of all of that. You never wanted to upset or disappoint them after all the terrible things that happened all those months ago, so it was the bare minimum you could do. A yawn left your own lips, flopping back on the bed and counting each peaceful second as it passed. Some time out in the city would be lovely, wouldn’t it? The smiling faces of your friends, delicious meal at a local cafe or restaurant...perfect. Everything felt like heaven.

It was on that thought that V returned, cleaning you up and helping gather the sheets to throw in the washer. You smiled when your gazes met, gathering clothes to wear out and heading for the stairs.

“I’m going to shower,” You announced to him, feeling his eyes on your ass as well while pulling on a light robe for modesty, “We should hurry up and get ready to meet Kyrie.”

V let out a low hum of agreement, footfalls following close behind as you entered the hallway, “Maybe we should bathe together, my sparrow?” He leaned over your shoulder, pressing a light kiss to your ear as he whispered, “I believe it will be beneficial to us both.”

Of course he would think that. You giggled lightly, turning around to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Depends on how quickly you get those clothes in the washer, slim,” You breathed, pinching his cheek with gentle fingers, “And only if you promise to be on your best behavior.”

V’s returning smirk was downright evil, jade eyes meeting yours as he stroked his fingers over you chin.

“Oh darling...you and I both know I am a gentleman before anything else.”

(Nero POV)

Nero had never been so glad to get out of a meeting early.

He and Nico were already driving back through the streets of Fortuna, heading for  Madame Elenor’s considering they were able to head home earlier than expected. Honestly, why had they bothered coming by in the first place? The maps could have been sent via photo or email, but Dante and Vergil didn’t seem to have a god damn brain cell between them. His uncle in particular had a cell phone and an ancient computer, but only used the phone to play a really shitty version of tetris. As for his father...well. Spending so long in hell and other places had left him a bit out of tune with technology.

Regardless, they had gotten the needed information on the coming mission and swung back to catch the earliest ferry home. Dante and Vergil had been arguing about flowers of all things as Nero left, which Nico had agreed was incredibly strange. Neither of the two had any idea why the older men had flaked on what would be a friendly lunch in Fortuna, but whatever it was had them in...a bit of a mood. Nero wanted no part of it, and had practically dragged Nico out the door once the bare minimum amount of information had been met. Location? Check. Client? Check. Demon types they would be facing? You bet your ass that was another check on the list. And from there he would leave the planning to Dante and Vergil before they actually set out. 

For now, he would stop by the shop and see how the kids were doing in their crafting efforts. Then the whole group could walk to whatever restaurant they decided on, maybe settle the day off with some time swimming on the beach or a bonfire. After the past week of work and demon hunting, some relaxation wouldn’t hurt anybody--hell, even Nico seemed excited at the prospect of having some free time to sunbathe, claiming she needed to work on her tan and rest her weary fingers. Nero wanted nothing more than to have some time with his wife, seeing her beautiful hair glow in the sun and a bathing suit…

He flustered himself a bit. She was so lovely it made him crazy.

“Jeez, it’s so obvious when you’re thinking about Kyrie,” Nico’s loud complaint made him jolt, looking over from the passenger side of the van to see her shutting off the engine and smirking mischievously, “You always get the goofiest, dopey smile on your face.”

He tried to scoff and play it off as nonchalantly as possible, but it was hard when his cheeks and ears were still tinged pink. Plus he doubted there was getting past Nico’s eagle eyes no matter how hard he tried.

“Lay off, Nico,” He huffed, scratching the back of his head and ignoring her chortles as he hopped out of the van, “So I love my wife--sue me.”

“You sure fuckin’ do, psycho,” Nico snickered, whapping him a little too hard on the back. Meanwhile, her other hand pocketed the keys to her van in those usual shorts she wore, “Just make sure to put on sunscreen today--Kyrie ain’t gonna fuck a tomato and I can’t see your sorry ass blush when you’re burnt like a marshmallow.”

She was certainly relentless in the insults today. Nero tried not to get more flustered, instead rolling his eyes in response to her taunts and pulling open the door to the Madame’s shop. The front windows were lined with costumes and small set pieces, a little bell jingling above them to sound of their arrival. It would seem Eleanor closed her shop early to make time for the kids, a “closed” sign hanging in plain view. But the door had been left unlocked for them, so Nero and Nico started making their way past the lines of costumes to the back area where they knew the kids would be hard at work.

“Madame…! How does it look?”

“Kyrie, I can’t find the pink paint!”

“I have the paint, sweetie--you’re painting trees right now, you need green.”

The children’s excited voices clamored within earshot, making Nero smile and press through the doorway. They were met with a medium sized room with sewing materials, an open archway leading to an open courtyard lined with cut out prop pieces being painted by the group of eager kids. The ones from their orphanage were here, mingling with some kids Nero only vaguely recognized from seeing them occasionally around the city. It was nice--seeing the young ones they cared about spending some time with others their age was a nice change of pace. Nero was also surprised to see you and V here earlier than them--this was one of the few days no one would be home all morning without interruption, so the fact that you were already present was unexpected. You were cross-legged on the floor, helping Emma with her brushstrokes and smiling cheerfully.

Even more surprising was V, hoisting a child up on his shoulders so they could reach the very top of a tree with green paint. He wore an apron over his black button up shirt and grey slacks, but it didn’t save his face from being smeared with some color. The poet didn’t seem to mind, nodding along to whatever the boy was saying and calmly replying to his questions with a small smile. As for Kyrie, she was on her knees beside Julio and Carlo, tracing a template for them to paint on and showing them the proper way to mix colors for what they needed. And boy if Nero wasn’t so smitten, seeing her hair pulled into a messy bun, hands stained with the colors of a rainbow and eyes filled with love and adoration for the kids.

God damn he was so lucky.

Nico rolled her eyes at the dopey look on his face, brushing past him just as Madame Elenor stood from her corner with the other kids, walking over with a limp in her step and wiping paint on the apron she also wore. The children from the orphanage waved and yelled in excitement when they saw Nero and the mechanic, but were so focused on their tasks that they didn’t get up. Which was for the best--they were covered in paint all over their little hands, and he would rather not clean purple and green out of his good clothes. Instead, the white haired boy smiled at his wife, turning away from her gaze to greet the woman helping the kids with this project.

“Nero, so glad you could join us,” The Elderly woman greeted him with a warm smile, wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth as she grasped his hands, “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

The Madame had always been an incredibly kind woman. Getting up there in years, old age starting to slow her down a bit but not stopping the creativity and hard work. Nero could respect that.

He smiled lightly in response, wincing a bit at the sight of paint now on his fingers once she pulled away. Figures, “Thanks for helpin’ out with the kiddos, they’re having a good time,” Laughter punctuated his words, making the two look up and see Julio and Carlo giggling as they smeared paint on their faces. Kyrie chasing after with a handkerchief, of course, “The play too. Can’t remember the last time the theater set up anything worth doing.”

The elderly woman snorted, rolling her eyes as she settled on a nearby workbench to rest her weary legs, “Certainly. Making costumes for period dramas grew very tiresome--it’s a lot more energetic to work with the younglings.”

That was definitely an understatement. The devil hunter doubted the old woman had this much excitement in a while. But she seemed pleased about all of the activities going on, pale blue eyes tired but happy as she watched the kids make quick work of another prop, setting it up to dry in the wind and sun. Kyrie helped steady a little girl’s brushstrokes, the light making her hair glow a beautiful shade of auburn as she asked you a question. And that was a nice change of pace too--seeing you in such high spirits, smile no longer tampered by grief or pain and glowing bright as well. You seemed to be in your element among the kids, patient and kind enough to answer all their questions and help when needed. Very similar to his wife in a lot of ways--she had been a very good teacher, after all.

Nero let out a low sigh, leaning against the doorway and folding his arms as he watched the peaceful scene continue. Madame Elenor followed his stare, an amused grin tilting her lips as he kept a watchful gaze on his wife and family. The adoration and devotion was very apparent.

“I’m glad to see you’re finally settling down,” The woman commented, drawing Nero’s attention away briefly and meeting his gaze, “You were such a rebellious teenager--Kyrie is very good for you, such a kind and peaceful woman...her mother was the same way.”

She was one of the few people that didn’t tell Nero that Kyrie was too good for him, something he appreciated. As for her mother...he remembered her kindness too, and it was not lost on him.

So he let out a slow breath, smiling ruefully and scratching the back of his head, “I’m a lucky guy, there’s no mistake there...I don’t know what I would do without her.” She really was something special, carrying so much love and kindness in her body he sometimes wondered if there was any room for hate or animosity. Even when things upset her, she bounced back so fast he often wondered if she hid things away as to not burden others. But there was always communication, always talking with him and explaining how she felt about certain things. 

There was always trust, and he needed that more than anything.

Elenor let out a pleased hum at his response, nodding a few times and pushing her glasses up a bit. Those pale blue eyes scanned the courtyard, watching as you and V started helping pull a tarp over one of the dried prop pieces, kids standing all around to aid. Nero wasn’t watching her expression then, more focused on making sure none of the kids were doing anything to hurt themselves or spilling any paint on their clothes. The children from the orphanage still had to go out to lunch after this, but the other kids would be picked up by parents and family members. So focused as he was, he didn’t notice the curious look on the Madame’s face, the searching one as she kept her eyes on you. Observing as you laughed, picking up one of the kids and pressing a kiss to their cheek.

So that’s why it surprised him when the elderly woman spoke again, her voice low and thoughtful as she murmured, “Your other friend is like her mother too.”

That certainly made Nero blink. He turned, staring at the Madame in confusion and seeing a faraway look in her eyes, one of remembrance and wistfulness. What the hell was she talking about? There was no way she could have known your mother, right?

“What do you mean…?” Nero asked slowly, brow furrowed as the Madame turned to meet his perplexed gaze. 

She pursed her lips, head tilted in your direction as another prop was covered slowly and carefully, “I never forget a face, you know that,” The elder locked her eyes on you again, frowning now as she watched the children interact and clamor in excitement, “Even one I’ve seen a long time ago--I can remember the faces of Kyrie’s parents perfectly, and I remember another face too. A woman used to come into my shop years ago, a year before you were even at the orphanage I think...she looked just like Y/N, spitting image.”

...What?

Nero stared in blank shock, brain not sure what to do with the information and halting like the screeching of tires. Someone who was the spitting image of you in this city, before he was even born? But...how was that possible? Surely not, there was no way you would have a parent in Fortuna, that was very clear after all the information they learned about your past. Even while not knowing anything about your family, you were firm in the fact that it was a different dimension entirely. Wisps of memories, small feelings and Foresight told the truth in your statements--not to mention the fact that the Outsider changed your appearance after your first death to distance you from the life you lead. A fresh start, an entirely new you--even your name had been picked by him. From what you could gather, your parents lived in a small town anyway, not a city. So...how?

How could someone be here that looked just like you? Maybe the elder had finally gone senile, maybe it was just a simple mistake? But...practically everyone in Fortuna knew of her memory. Hell, the old woman could recall days from his childhood that blurred even for Kyrie and himself. Faces, names, events...Old age never soured her mind, not for a second. Conviction was in her tone, eyes firm and certain as she stared at you, like seeing a memory from long...long ago.

But...that couldn’t be right.

This didn’t make sense.

You said you’d never been to Fortuna before, this dimension before.

So...why?

Nero’s tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth, heartbeat starting to pick up while his head tried to piece things together, bit by bit. You were prone to having your memory erased, right? So...maybe you had been to this place before, without even realizing it? It was possible, especially with how unpredictable the Outsider was. But...didn’t the God only erase your memories with trauma? And what could he have sent you to do in Fortuna at the time? The Order of the Sword hadn’t been affected, and no big events had gone on until they were taken down. Not unless there was an event you did manage to prevent, one he didn’t know about.

 The devil hunter couldn’t find it in himself to reply, even as the Madame continued on wistfully in her story. And as the words continued to flow, his trepidation grew in spades, like icy fingers tapping their way along his spine.

“Timid little thing, she came in a few times to help me with odd jobs in return for coin and food,” The Madame sighed, closing her tired eyes and pausing briefly as she remembered the past, “She started coming by less and less, spending time with a tall, cloaked sword-wielding man walking the streets. An outsider like herself, I think. And then...well, I stopped seeing her at all. I got worried for a little while that something had happened to her after rumors circled the town but…”

The Madame shrugged, smile returning as she watched you hug Kyrie around the waist and giggle about whatever joke was said, “Her daughter is alive and well, a very kind person. If she turned out this way, I have no doubt that her mother ended up safe as well--I imagine the cloaked man she was with must have got her off the island before the Order fell...I just wished she would stop by and say hello before then.” 

A...cloaked man?

Rumors?

The woman slowly rose to her feet, wincing when her bones creaked and ached in protest, “I’ll have to ask your friend about her parents another day, when things aren’t quite so busy. It’s strange...she shares the same name as her mother too, which is a bit...odd. But she’s far too young to be the same woman.”

She didn’t notice Nero’s frozen expression, especially not when a couple kids ran up to her and loudly asked for help with a prop. Walking away before any more questions could be asked, things seeming to pass in slow motion for a brief second. He wasn’t able to move, watching numbly as she was pulled away by tiny hands, chuckling lightly at their enthusiasm. Things seemed so normal in comparison to the new truth laid at his feet--the kids didn’t notice Nero leaning against the doorway, a hand on his mouth and posture frozen in place. Nor did you, V, or Kyrie. All so focused on the task at hand, while he was left wondering just what the fuck was going on.

The elderly woman’s words had...struck a heavy chord of unease, one that gripped him in its tight vise and refused to let go no matter how hard Nero tried. 

His mind was working overtime, trying to figure out just what the hell was going on with so little information in front of him. Same name, same face...that had to be you, right? What the hell happened to you in Fortuna all those years ago, if he was to believe what Elenor claimed to be true? If you could travel from dimension to dimension, what was stopping the chance of going to a certain place twice? It was completely probable that Fortuna could have been one of your mission places, but...maybe you had failed? Something traumatic must have happened, and you had each memory erased. The Order of the Sword could have been a big target, but…

But.

The timing of it...was far too uncomfortable for Nero’s liking.

A lot of these things were.

Nero’s brain was connecting things he absolutely should not be trying to connect--but it wouldn’t stop, it refused to. Not with this new information, not with things he had felt on the edge of his consciousness for a long...long time.

He had heard rumors too...hadn’t he? When trying to figure out the identity of his parents as a teenager, asking anyone who would listen if they could remember anyone dropping a baby off at the orphanage. Claims ranging from it maybe being a teenage mother who made a mistake, him being a cursed twin left by a frightened family. Ect, ect. But...those all came up empty. And besides, he had demonic blood in his veins, so anything stating he came from normal humans was implausible anyway. No, he only took to heart things that could actually depict something other than human.

And a couple tales came to mind. Not ones he heard while searching out his parents, but rather things heard in passing. Demon attacks were a common thing in the city until the Order fell, but people who actually held their own against the creatures outside of said Order were...rare. Nero remembered tales of an inhuman man in a cloak who once traveled the city streets for a short time, witnesses seeing him take out demons with speed and precision no mere mortal could have. As a teenager, it had all seemed so silly--why should he think that this man had to be his father, especially with nothing to go on? This apparent stranger came and went in a matter of a couple months, leaving no trace behind.

In retrospect...that did sound like Vergil, a lot like Vergil. Tall, cloaked, deadly and precise. Wielding a sword, obviously. But...Nero hadn’t put much thought into the stranger’s companion this late in his life, not when he was still trying to grasp the fact that he had a father in the first fucking place.

Less was known about her--a lady in red, according to a few passing voices that could barely recall the tales. After all, why did such things matter years later? Those people were gone, but some fleeting memories remained. Coming and going from Fortuna was incredibly rare, outsiders stuck out like a sore thumb and were generally met with wariness and fear back then. Some rumors claimed she was human, but a few more...a few more mentioned powers too, didn’t they? He had waved those away--he was mostly human, right? Mostly human meant only partial demon, the woman had to be human.

Had to be.

Right?

But…

The timeline...the timeline. It fit, didn’t it? This woman who looked like you was in Fortuna before he was in the Orphanage, a year before. Around the time Vergil was in Fortuna, a tall, cloaked man with a sword. There was no fucking way that could be anyone else, right? You already stated your age was a question mark after traveling for the Outsider for so long, and visiting to the same dimension twice without remembering it was...plausible. If something trauma based had happened to you in Fortuna...it would explain why you disappeared without warning, especially when he considered the fact that you had not been with his father when all the conflict between him and Dante had occurred. At least...that’s what he assumed.

Vergil would have remembered your face, though, wouldn’t he? But...his father claimed to have lost memories after a particularly bad run in with Mundus, avoiding the topic like the plague and growing agitated whenever Nero brought it up. So the younger Sparda learned to stop asking about it, not wanting to fuck things up when the once-surly male was clearly trying his best. Although that was what he claimed, Nero had always felt there might have been more knowldge to find, especially with the mentioned trials.

Thinking back on it...Nero’s foreboding grew in spades, leaps, and bounds.

You had eventually spoken of what happened in the Void, Vergil forced to go through three trials in punishment for his actions. The first was reliving the trauma of his mother’s death, the second seeing what happened with Mundus and becoming Nelo Angelo. And the third...well, your memory went blank at the third, fairly certain that the Outsider took your memory of it, but not knowing why. It was of little consequence at the time--you were just happy to have V back, and didn’t put any thought into it.

Nero had asked his father in passing about it, and V too since they seemed to share memories. Both clammed up at the third trial, Vergil stating curtly that it was a part of his past he’d rather not repeat aloud or bring into light, and V...well, V replied that Vergil’s memories weren’t his to share, nor were his traumas or mistakes. And it ended with that, Nero shrugging it off just as easily now that things had seemingly grown so calm.

But now...less calm. There was a reason your memory of the third trial had been removed, especially if that reason was…

That’s not possible.

 Nero turned, stalking back into the shop before anyone could notice the growing look of panic and confusion on his face. Both hands ran through his hair, heart pounding in his ears as he walked out to the van and leaned against its metal form, trying to talk out of his own reasoning and just carrying the disbelief and fear in circles. Not many people were on this street so early in the day, more than likely on the square or on the beach so there would be no one to see him trying to collect himself.

Vergil wasn’t the type to screw around with multiple women, that was obvious. But he was the type to reluctantly start traveling with one, maybe get too close. If something bad happened, if you had died...there would be no memory, no trace, no knowing him. Maybe no knowledge of having a...

There is no fucking way.

Nero felt his blood run cold, brain scrambling with this knowledge and sending off several warning bells that made him feel sick to his stomach. There was no way, right? This was stupid, foolish, idiotic--his head was just doing things it shouldn’t connecting dots that weren’t there.

As hard as he tried to tell himself that...the seed of doubt had been planted, and it was flourishing. He couldn’t even form the proper words or coherent thoughts, unable to even comprehend it. His friend, his best friend...the same one he had laughed with at home, messing up your hair, calling each other “jackass” at any given moment, flinging food at the dinner table. The one who he watched fall apart in the Qliphoth, who he had carried home and helped build back up for so long. There was no way that you could be his...no. That wasn’t possible, and as much as he wanted to ask…

He couldn’t, could he?

Memories of trauma were taken for a reason. According to you, the Outsider only took things that were too overwhelming for you to handle. Things that could break you, weights to heavy to bare. If he asked you about it, made you remember something on accident…That wasn’t a risk that could be taken. But there were other ways to find out, right? Maybe that would be best, a simple DNA test without your knowledge could easily show him that this theory was foolish and contrived, take the burden off his shoulders and allow things to continue in peace as they were.

But...what if it only proved the truth? Would he be able to keep treating you like a friend as before, would he even be able to look at you the same way?

He couldn’t live with this ignorance...somehow, not knowing seemed worse.

I need to know. I need to be sure.

Even if it changes things...I spent so long not knowing.

Now that the thought is there...I need to do something or else it’ll get worse.

And even if he did find out it was true, what did he have to change? His mind was starting to calm, looking for reason and stability anywhere he could find it. You were his best friend, incredibly kind and caring to everyone around--even in the Qliphoth, making sure people were eating, encouraging him when it seemed like no one else would. If the truth came to light that after all this time, after all the wondering, hate, and resentment that maybe he wasn’t an unwanted child...It was startling, it went against everything he taught himself. If you had died, if you didn’t remember anything...it was very possible that he had been loved, right? You definitely weren’t the type to just throw away your flesh and blood, there was so much love in your heart, like Kyrie. But...it made sense if things happened outside of your control, a tragedy. 

If he found out that...you were his mother, after all this time...then wouldn’t that be a relief? To know his mother was just a timid, lost girl under the guidance of a distrustful God, one who went through something terrible and wasn’t able to keep him--compared to all the ideas of him being abandoned for being partially demon, of his mother not wanting him, this was a blessing in comparison. And he could hold his tongue, bottle it all in even if he knew the truth. Because at the end of the day, you had always been family, his friend...All he wanted was the truth, and if he could get it then that would be enough.

I was wrapped in a cloth when Kyrie’s mother found me on the doorstep, dry despite the rain. The cloth was stained in blood, like whoever gave birth had me and dropped me off not long after.

Nero made up his mind, resolve snapping in place like steel chords inside and binding every decision in place. By the time Kyrie emerged with the kids an hour later, he had a casual smile on his face again, all the traces of panic and confusion tampered down even when you emerged with an arm locked around V. Smiling, happy, greeting him with a nudge of your elbow and a teasing comment about Vergil and Dante giving him a hard time. No one would notice anything was amiss with him, at least...that’s what he hoped.

“...Nero?”

The white-haired boy paused, lagging behind the group a bit as they started walking toward the square. You and Nico holding the kids hands, Kyrie pulling Nero’s arm with her gentle fingers and staring at him in worry.

But all he could muster was a small smile, leaning down to kiss the top of her head while pulling her along toward the others.

“Later, I promise.”

Kyrie’s eyes missed nothing, but this wasn’t something he could talk with her about, not yet at least. He needed to be certain, things needed to be proven and solid first. If the white-haired boy discovered that his theories were wrong and just his brain foolishly searching for what wasn’t there...well, he would tell his wife and have a little laugh, and maybe wonder about what happened to you in Fortuna all those years ago. She only nodded at his words, still seeming concerned but lacing her fingers with his as they caught up to the group just as they were deciding on the restaurant. You briefly looked at him, as if sensing his off mood yourself, but...knew not to say anything.

If it was the truth...Nero would tell Kyrie, warn her not to bring it up to you. And then he would ask Vergil about it, proof in hand and get the story from his mouth. Because there was no doubt that he and V both knew something that they weren’t telling.

Nero would be able to keep his cool through lunch, through everything. Arguing with Nico, talking with the kids, watching you laugh with Kyrie and the others while one hand grasped V’s tightly. There was truth to be had, but at the end of the day you would always be his family and friend above all other things. And that came first, your well-being always came first.

Some things were more important.

If he discovered you were this woman in red, his mother...then he would get the story from Vergil and be done with it. Just being able to know both parents was something Nero thought he’d never have, and to know his mother was someone kind and sweet in comparison to Vergil? Well...he could live with that, could go on being your friend without changing a damn thing if it meant saving you from trauma. Life would go on as always, but he would just have one less mystery hanging over his head.

There was definitely a truth to be had. But at the end of the day...family was family. And he was willing to do whatever it would take to defend it.

“Hey Nero?”

The boy looked up as he walked alongside his wife and the children, seeing you looking at him with mischief in your expression. The afternoon light making your hair glow, one arm locked with V’s as he chuckled at whatever you had cooking up.

Nero swallowed down the hesitation and uncertainty, replying easily enough, “Yeah?”

You grinned, jabbing him in the side once with a hint of challenge in your tone, one he easily caught onto, “When we get back, we should spar on the beach. You, me, and some good old-fashioned water guns.”

What was that in your expression? A hint of concern, worry for him that you were trying to mask with playfulness. She’s worried, and trying to cheer me up--Nero clicked that in place right away, knowing damn well that sparring was one of his ways to blow off steam. Of course you caught onto his unease as well, just as observant as Kyrie. He felt his wife squeeze his hand too, punctuating the offer with support of her own.

And it was in that moment, Nero realizing how very blessed he was. To have people who cared and loved him that much, to have a chance of discovering his mother was something like you, someone already close to him. It made him smirk a bit, picking up Carlo from where he walked with the other kids and letting the boy hug him around the neck.

“You’re on,” He replied with a low smirk, eyeing V at your side and adding cockily, “Bet I could take you and Shakespeare on at once.”

V rose a simple brow at that, lips quirking up in a smile as he replied with a low chuckle, “You can certainly try.”

The kids all chattered in excitement, wanting in on the battle and eager at the prospect of playing with super soakers. Nico seemed to want in on it too, pinching one of Nero’s cheeks and claiming she would ally herself with him in this so called “battle”. Nero was willing to bet there would be treachery afoot, but Kyrie would always be there to back him up in the long run.

They all would. And when the truth eventually came...that would always remain the same.

~The End~

Read on AO3

Like what you see? Consider buying me a coffee

Tagged: @nightshadow4713 @slightlylunatic @silentwhispofhope @just-call-me-no-name @efiicitia @raven-huntress @shaelin444