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littledrummeraussie · 2 years

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masterlist. | moodswings masterlist. | want to be added to my taglist?

warnings: hitman!Ashton. mentions of violence, blood and death. strong language. manhandling and small pieces of actual violence (she does not get hurt, I promise). discussion of addiction (gambling). discussion of murder. this is a heavier chapter, please be cautious.

word count: 3277

author’s note: Hello, I’m slowly working my way through this fic, and I’m enjoying every couple hundred words I’m able to write at the end of my days.

This is your reminder that this is not a fluffy, happy story, even though it has its moments when it touches on softer things. Ashton in this fic is definitely problematic, so please, proceed with caution.

Feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

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chapter 2.

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“Did you think of anything else?” you walked around the grocery store with your phone pushed against your ear as you chatted with Ashton, putting some chips into your cart.

“I think I’m good,” he hummed on the other side, and you jotted down a few more things onto your list. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. They are literally holding back everyone until we solve this problem.”

“Sounds familiar,” you pulled a face, stopping in one of the aisles so you were not in the way of anyone. “You think they will let you come home to sleep and all? Or will they make you set up camp in the office?”

“I’ll sneak out and then back in the morning,” Ash chuckled a little, and that made you smile as well. “I really need to go back now, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. See you at home?” your voice was laced with flirt, letting Ashton know that you were in the mood for some fun if he was able to make it on time.

“Of course. Bye, love,” he made a little kissy sound before hanging up, and you hid your face in your palm, giggling quietly in the middle of the store.

Two weeks passed since your little misunderstanding, and during this time everything seemed to fall back into place. Ashton checked in with you regularly, not just when you were both working, but also during the time you spent together, wanting to make sure you were both on the same page. For a few days you let him spoil you, but after that things went back to normal, and you no longer thought that he’s hiding something or someone from you. If you wanted to be honest with yourself, you felt like the two of you did a great job in sorting this thing out, even though you thought that you might have been overreacting it all a little bit. But better safe than to be sorry, right?

You spent another half an hour in the store, buying some more stuff for the upcoming week. Ashton’s been busy in the last two days, working long hours after his boss found a problem which needed urgent attention, and you thought you might surprise him with something nice for dinner, or if he came home late, then you also had a few options to make him a hearty breakfast. His efforts did not go unnoticed by you: there were little things that reminded you every day how much he loved you and how much he wanted you to know that you were important to him. The least you could do now was to take care of him as work piled upon his shoulders – if it meant his favourite meal or a blowjob in the morning, so be it.

There were a lot of cars in the garage when you arrived home, but his spot was empty next to yours. You hoped it wouldn’t be midnight by the time he came back – you were really in the mood to snuggle up on the couch, put on a movie that none of you watched and was only background noise to your late night kisses. It was the perfect plan for a chill Friday night, something you knew both of you were craving since the week started.

You played some music as you started putting away the groceries you bought, quietly singing along while gathering ingredients you needed for the meal you had in mind. Doing this with Ashton around was always much more fun, you liked sharing the kitchen with him as you cooked together, even though he was more in the way than providing any actual help, but you really didn’t mind – there was something soft and domestic in the whole thing. You liked him brushing up against your side or that you could ask him to taste whatever you were making, and also to reach things on the upper shelves so you could watch that tiny sliver of skin peeking out from under his shirt.

It's been a little more than a year since you moved in with Ashton, and you felt like it was one of the best decisions you’ve made in a long time. What you had with him was special, and this was one of the reasons why you wanted to work on your relationship any time you ran into a bump in the road. With Ashton doing his best to make up for the misunderstanding he caused you wanted to meet him in the middle, and as you thought more and more about it, you became more certain that the two of you were on the right way to build an even stronger and better relationship, something that could last for long years, if not a lifetime.

“Dammit, where are you?” a huff left your lips as you looked for your phone; you wanted to send a quick text to Ash, asking when he thought he would get off work, but the damn thing was nowhere to be found.

You felt a pang of guilt as you grabbed your keys, making your way back to the garage and your car. Just two weeks ago you got upset with Ashton because he left his phone on silent, and now you were the one who forgot it on the passenger seat or in the trunk, making you unavailable. If Ash was looking for you and you did not pick up his call, well, you thought he had every right to be mad at you once he got home. And if the black car parking next to yours was any indication, he already left work to check if everything was okay with you, and you hated how he might have come home early because he couldn’t reach you. His boss won’t like it when he finds out about it, that was for sure.

“Ash, hey? Are you in there?”

You already grabbed your phone from the passenger seat (it was right where you’ve left it), and now peeked inside the storage room which belonged to your apartment and which was now open just a fraction, letting you know that Ashton was probably packing something in there. It was usually him who brought stuff down and put them away in case you needed them later, and you rarely checked what was hidden on the shelves and corners, knowing Ashton would find them quicker than you did.

But Ashton was nowhere to be found. You frowned, looking around the tiny space, then back to the garage, trying to find your boyfriend. A thought crossed your mind that maybe he was already on his way back to the apartment, and that maybe he missed locking the door, but as you turned back to close the storage room something caught your eyes.

In the back there was a gap, something that looked like a door, hidden in the wall. You’ve never seen it before, but then again, you were the one who moved into Ashton’s space and you didn’t really leave anything down here. Curiosity got the better of you, and you stepped closer, opening the door just a little more to look inside. You desperately wished you didn’t do that, but it was already too late.

“Ashton? What is goi– oh my god!”

It was something you couldn’t unsee: the ropes and the bags, the guns lining the walls; so many guns it was impossible to count them. And in the middle of it all – Ashton. Ashton, the man you loved and cared about, who bought you flowers and donuts, who washed your hair and held you close at night, who kissed you senseless and said ‘I love you’ one too many times before falling asleep. Ashton, who still brought you on dates and acted like it was the first time, who touched and teased you under the table to make a mess out of you, who made sure you were satisfied and fucked good by the time your night ended.

Ashton, who was throwing a pair of leather gloves onto a table next to a bloodied rag, clothes wrinkled, hair dishevelled and eyes dark as he looked up at you, a grimace appearing on his face as a quiet ‘shit!’ left his lips. With his foot he shoved a gym bag under the table then took a step towards you, and that was the moment your instincts kicked in: you turned on your heels and ran out of the tiny space, out the storage room, ready to open your car and just flee–

“Where do you think you’re going?” you felt his grip on your waist, pulling you back against him, and you started thrashing in his arms, trying to free yourself.

“Let go of me, you monster!” you kicked back, aiming for his shin, but you lost your footing as Ashton picked you up, suddenly throwing you over his shoulder. “What the–”

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he kicked the door of the storage room closed, voice low and dangerous.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” you hit his back with your fists, but it was like he didn’t even feel it. “Put me down, you–”

“Calm the fuck down!” he stopped in front of the elevator, squeezing hard where he was holding onto you. “If you don’t stay quiet then I’ll have to make you.”

You suddenly understood that this wasn’t his usual silly threat, the one he always made when you were feeling frisky and started teasing him, wrestling him on the bed, always ending up under him as he tickled you, your shrieks filling the room. He pressed his lips against yours to kiss away your giggles, reminding you in a whisper that the neighbours will hear you if you don’t stay quiet, and they will think he’s either being thoroughly naughty, or is trying to kill you. Now the memory made you sick, knowing that maybe those harmless, flirty threats held a much deeper meaning you didn’t know about. You tried to twist out of his grasp again, but Ashton was much bigger and stronger than you, and he kept you in place over his shoulder as he rode the elevator with you back to your apartment. And it made sense, of course, how it was so easy for him to do so – he probably needed to dispose of a few bodies, or simply just move them from one location to the other. Tears started gathering at the corner of your eyes, and you quietly sniffled. Maybe it was your turn now; maybe you were his next victim.

The elevator arrived with a ‘ding!’, and you hoped and prayed that someone was on the other side waiting for it, and that you could tell them to call the police because this wasn’t a romp between lovers, but when the doors opened the hallway was empty. Another futile attempt was made from your side to get out of Ashton’s hold, nails digging into his arm where you could reach him, but he only hissed once before adjusting you up on his shoulder, digging through his pockets to pull out his keys. A second later both of you were inside the apartment, the door locked tightly behind your backs, giving you no option to escape the nightmare you found yourself in.

Ashton put you down on the couch, and you immediately backed into a corner, making yourself as small as possible as he checked the long scratch marks on his arm, flaming red and slowly oozing blood where you broke the skin.

“That’s quite the scratch there, darling,” he finally looked at you, a scowl on his face. “This never happened during sex. You’re feisty.”

“I’m not just gonna let you throw me around like a ragdoll,” you grumbled, sending a dirty look his way. “Just because you’re bigger that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna fight back!”

Ashton finally let out a loud sigh, running his fingers through his messy locks. Suddenly he looked tired and done, his shoulders tensing before sagging a little, almost like he felt defeated in that moment. But then he turned towards you with a new vigour, taking a step forward, and you were crowding into the corner of the couch again, reaching for a pillow, like that could save you somehow.

“Don’t you dare touch me!”

“Just let me explain,” Ashton sighed again, stopping and taking a step back to give you space.

“Sure, now you wanna explain after you’ve dragged me up like that? And what are you going to tell me, Ashton Irwin? What the fuck was that? Who the hell are you?”

“I’m a hitman.”

The sudden silence that settled over you was deafening. Even though you started to understand that your boyfriend did something that was far from legal, there was an honest surprise on your face and that made him chuckle bitterly. He threw himself down on the other side of the couch, kicking his legs up onto the coffee table, tiredly rubbing at his eyes.

“You’re happy now, Y/N?”

You were rendered speechless – how were you supposed to react to a bomb like this? How could you go on with your life, pretending that everything was normal when you just caught your lover in a hidden compartment of a storage room, clearly trying to clean up after a mess he made somewhere in the city? Maybe it would have been less painful if he cheated on you. Now you wished that’s what he would have done instead of doing whatever he did during his so-called work hours and late night walks.

“Go ahead. Ask away,” Ashton said after a few silent minutes, almost sounding nonchalant. “I guess I have nothing to hide anymore.”

“…what was in the bag?” your voice was timid and quiet, afraid to learn what he has to say, but still, it sounded like the safest question to ask.

“That’s the first thing you can think of?” his bitter laugh was back, clearly not believing that this was what you really wanted to know.

“Ash…”

“It’s not body parts, if that’s what you want to know,” he rested his head back on the couch, closing his eyes. “It’s just a change of clothes. I have duplicates of everything, so in case something got dirty I could change out of it without you noticing. I washed those when you weren’t home. Easy as that.”

The smallest of nods was your only answer as you let the silence settle over the two of you again. You tried to curl up in a ball as much as you could, the corner of the couch providing a little bit of comfort, almost like you could hide there without him finding you. A few minutes later Ashton glanced at you, the look in his eyes unreadable, and that made you shrink into yourself. Without a word he pushed off the couch and disappeared in the kitchen, and you felt panic rise in your chest again – thoughts of him coming back with the kitchen knife or a hidden gun made you shake. Still, you tried to think of any way to hide or escape, to run for your life. But you had a feeling he would find you anyway; that was his job, right? To find and get rid of people.

A mug was placed in front of you, steaming hot and smelling a lot like the drink you liked to have when you needed comfort. You finally looked up, giving a questioning look to Ashton, eyes flitting between him and the cup.

“It’s just tea, not poison,” he sighed, reaching for the mug and taking a careful sip before giving it back to you. “I’m not trying to kill you.”

“Could have fooled me,” you pushed the mug away, finally finding your voice and giving him another hard stare. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he scoffed, and that made you even angrier.

“No, Ashton, it’s not fucking obvious, because up until today I’ve thought I had a normal, functioning life and relationship with you, and then you’re telling me you’re a hitman and expect me to just understand that that’s actually our lives! Like how long has this been going on?”

“Six years,” Ashton answered without missing a beat, clearly done playing pretend. “You wanna know what happened? I had a gambling addiction. And clearly I was a shitty player because pretty soon I was drowning in debts and they didn’t let me join any of the parties until I did not pay up. That’s when the opportunity came.”

“To kill people?” you were in disbelief, but Ashton just nodded.

“At first I didn’t know that that would be the job. Someone approached me after one of my many failed attempts to get into a game, and they offered to pay off my debts if I helped them take care of something. So I said yes and the next thing I knew I was given a gun and a target,” he finally settled in the armchair, elbows resting on his knees, hands clutched together and on display in front of him, almost like he wanted to make sure you had a clear sight of them.

“You could have refused!” you were angry – at him, at yourself, at the whole situation; he was way too calm for your liking. “Just say no and be done with it!”

“You clearly never had a serious addiction. No offense,” Ashton added almost like an afterthought, before he continued with his story. “When I was done I threw up immediately, I was sick of myself, of what I’ve done. But you would be surprised how easy it is to kill after the first few times.”

“…how many?” it was long minutes later, after the silence settled over the two of you again; your voice was just above a whisper, not sure if you really wanted to know the answer.

“I don’t count,” Ash shrugged his shoulders, slightly shaking his head. “I just do the job they ask from me. I don’t ask questions, and they pay me that same night.”

“What about your gambling addiction? Or is that something you’re keeping from me as well?”

“I’m not playing anymore. My debts were cleared and I never went back. I had another thing that kept me high, and they even paid me for it.”

“Great – you just exchanged one addiction to another,” you heaved a breath as you stood from the couch, pacing back and forth in the living room. “What’s the next surprise? Your other job is just a cover for all of this and you actually don’t do anything all day long, just clean up after your night outs? Is your name even Ashton? Or that’s also just a lie?”

“I know you’re upset with me, I understand. But now that you know all of this we need to discuss some serious things,” he followed you, and you threw up your hands in front of you, making him stop again.

“Don’t you dare touch me! And I’m not interested in your thoughts or discussions or whatever bullshit you have to say about all of this because you, Ashton Irwin or whoever the fuck you are, you have lost me. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“Y/N, listen. I’m just trying to protect you,” he tried to make his voice sound calm, and at that you scoffed at him, turning on your heels to lock yourself in the bedroom.

“You don’t have to. I’m already living with a monster.”

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@mymindwide @fuckyeah5sostakemehome @suchalonelysunflower @talkfastromance4 @ashtonsunflower @in-superbloom @wiiildflowerrr @lovelywordsblog @heyitskelseaj @cthheaven @sofsversion @justreblogginfics @whentherosesbl00m @sadistmichael

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin au #ashton irwin fanfiction #ashton irwin angst #fiction time #series: moodswings #afic: moodswings

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separatist-apologist · 3 years

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Aaaaand part 6 ideas - I think the timing works out and Starfall is coming. Lucien says he can’t come (a calculated lie), but Elain sends down the bond that she went to that shop along the sidra to wear under her dress. They manage to secure a private balcony. Smut ensues.

You know, I thought about doing a serial where like, Elain accidentally accepts the bond and her and Lucien hate fuck for a while before they get to know each other, but I guess we're doing this instead.

Time has no meaning in this ficlet, do not ask me about the timeline or seasons, they change based on a whim and my needs so anyway WELCOME TO COLD WEATHER AGAIN (I think? I'm unsure when Starfall actually is? And honestly, it doesn't matter).

This is, as per usual, NSFW, 18+ and unedited beyond me just glancing at it to make sure there were no red squiggles in word.

He hadn’t meant to be gone for so long. Spring had fallen to shit and what was supposed to be a two-week stay had morphed into months of trying to convince Tamlin to eat, to legislate, and enforce his border all while Tamlin used him as his personal punching bag. Lucien was exhausted and irritated when Feyre’s invitation for Starfall dropped in his lap.

No I don’t want to go to a party, he thought privately, quickly scrawling back a much politer response. What he wanted was a week of uninterrupted alone time with his mate in which he did every filthy thing he’d been fantasizing about while she begged him for more. Lucien could still taste her in his mouth, could still smell her in the air. She was a brand on his skin, a ghost trailing him everywhere he went. He wondered about her constantly. Was she thinking about him? Did she miss him? Want to see him?

Lucien hoped openly declining an opportunity to see Elain might spur her into reaching out to him in their game and admitting she not only wanted him, but she needed him, too. He was playing aloof, like always but she was just silent. He couldn’t pretend that didn’t disappoint him.

Feyre sent back her disappointment two days later and let the invitation open if he changed his mind. She swore up and down Cassian wanted to chat with him and perhaps the General did. Their friendship was an odd one but comforting and a little familiar. Of all of Rhysand’s inner circle, Lucien liked Cassian best.

He was walking to the stables to patrol Tamlin’s border when a vision slithered down the bond. Elain, standing in front of a mirror, wearing a gown that seemed to be made of pure starlight. Silver and low cut, with capped sleeves and a skin colored lining made it seem as though she only wore the glittering diamonds and nothing else. His mouth went dry at the sight. Had she meant to send it?

Yes. A note followed the image, appearing in the air before him.

Starfall?

That was all she’d written. She might have written pages and pages, for the effect that one word had. Lucien tugged his response back, a resounding yes, absolutely, if I have to crawl I will— and turned abruptly to let Tamlin know he was officially retiring from Spring, and to write if he needed any more assistance.

Back in Velaris, Lucien paid an obscenely large amount of money to secure one of the last private balconies in Velaris. It was far from where Rhysand and his ilk would watch, but still very much out in the open. The edge of the balcony, cut from smooth, gray stone, was thick enough he could hoist Elain up and fuck her brainless if he wanted to.

Lucien very, very much did.

The day before Starfall, Lucien sent Elain only the address and nothing else. There would be no polite teasing, no stolen glances. They would be together…maybe even talk and get to know each other outside of just kissing and touching. The thought of hearing her speak excited him more than anything else, though seeing her stripped of her dress was a very close second.

He dressed in a jacket of silver and trimmed in white to match the fitted white pants he’d worn. He’d neatly combed his hair and tied it off his face after debating for too long whether he ought to leave it down or not. He slipped on clean, black boots that hugged his calves, slipped a knife inside his boot just in case, and forewent wearing any other weaponry.

He’d just made it to the balcony he’d rented when the glass, double doors that led from the building they and others were borrowing, opened, and Elain stepped out. Lucien made no show of dropping to his knee, one hand pressed against his chest, jaw hanging open. He’d lost all rational ability to speak or stand when Elain, his goddess, stepped onto the balcony, a vision in silver stars.

Her cheeks darkened with what he hoped was pleasure, though she made a big show of rolling her eyes. “You’re dramatic,” she accused as he staggered back to his feet.

“Absurd. You’re beautiful,” he replied, caressing those same, heated cheeks. He suddenly couldn’t stand the thought of marring one inch of her body and wondered if perhaps they’d just have a nice, romantic evening with nothing else between them.

She walked to the balcony, illuminated beneath floating fae lights. Lucien stood beside her, resting one of his hands over her own, unable to resist. She smiled faintly at the touch and pressed her shoulder against his.

“I missed you,” she told him without looking up, her eyes still firmly focused on the city below. His heart pounded in his chest at the admission.

“Not half as much as I missed you,” he promised, squeezing her hand. A smile bloomed fully on her face, lighting her up like the sun across the sea and Lucien thought he was ruined entirely for anyone else, regardless of what happened between them.

She turned, suddenly, her sweet smile morphing into something wicked. His body instantly tightened as anticipating thrilled up his spine. What was she thinking? She ran her hands up his chest, dragging her eyes up with them until they were firmly focused on his lips. She didn’t need to ask him to kiss her. He’d happily spend the rest of his life attached at the mouth if she wanted.

That first, sweeping kiss wrecked all Lucien’s promises to himself. She tasted like citrus coated in honey and somehow like sunshine. He was frantic, unable to get enough and all at once, desperate for more. His tongue caressed her own, licking in time with the hips he was grinding into her beautiful gown.

Elain broke the kiss with a gasp, her fingers yanking on the laces of his pants. “Before everything starts,” she said, making quick work of them. He began hiking up her dress but Elain swatted his hands away.

“The first time you have me will be private,” she informed him, her brown eyes glittering with promise. “And somewhere nice.”

He started to ask what her plan was, then, but Elain dropped to her knees and Lucien’s head immediately emptied. The last remaining shred of rationality snarled at the sight of her kneeling when he thought it ought to have been him while the animal that typical slumbered in his chest roared with appreciation at the sight of his mate eye level with his cock.

“I borrowed one of Nesta’s dirtier books,” Elain informed him, her breath curling along the skin of his hard, twitching cock. “I don’t suppose this requires any amount of skill.”

Lucien took a shallow breath as her hand cupped the base of him. She ran her tongue up the broad side of his shaft and he reached for the railing behind him in an effort to keep himself steady.

She hummed softly to herself, pumping him once. She could have done only that and nothing else and he’d have come quickly, undone at just the sight of her. She glanced up at him, her lips moistened, her eyes mischievous.

“Will you beg, Lucien?” She asked.

“Would you like me to?” He choked in response. She smiled, lowered her mouth, and sucked just the tip of his erection into her mouth. Lucien concentrated all his effort on remaining utterly still despite his body’s urge to thrust into her mouth and fuck her throat. It was her first time, he reminded himself. He didn’t need to scare her.

“Yes,” she replied, withdrawing her pretty little lips to lick his head like a piece of candy. Lucien groaned loudly.

“Elain, please—”

His words choked into another groan of need as she took as much of him as she could into her mouth, her cheeks hollowed and her hand making up the difference. Her mouth was hot and wet and utterly intoxicating in its softness. Lucien was desperate and somehow building hotly towards release despite how little time and effort she’d put into the act of sucking him.

She hummed again, the noise vibrating along his skin and settling in his tightening sac. Saliva from her mouth pooled around her hand, making it easier for her glide up and down the length of him as she licked and sucked.

First time? His mind demanded, unable to believe she hadn’t done this before. Had it been so long since someone took him in their mouth that he’d forgotten? Was the act made better when it was his mate who sucked?

Shut the fuck up, the animal in his chest demanded of his wild, out of control thoughts. Lucien’s hips jerked a little as he built higher, fire racing through his blood.

“Elain,” he gasped, unsure what else to say. She quickened her pace and Lucien hung by a thread just long enough to offer a warning. “I’m going to come, Elain—”

She didn’t pull away, didn’t withdraw and a moment later Lucien exploded into a million pieces, yelling so loud he was sure Feyre heard him, wherever she was. He pumped hot into her mouth and Elain, the angel, took all of it without moving her mouth. She waited until he relaxed to withdraw, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“You,” he gasped, pulling her to her feet so he could kiss her. “Next, you next—”

A shooting star streaked through the sky and Elain twisted in his arms, her swollen, red lips parted with delight. Lucien quickly pulled up his pants and retied them, swallowing against the aftershock of his release.

“Another day,” she replied, letting him pull her against him, her back resting against his chest, his arms wrapped around her. He kissed the top of her head, aware of what she’d done.

She’d put him in a situation that forced him to see her again.

Did she not know Lucien wanted to see her all the time?

She wiggled a little, sighing sweetly, content in his arms.

He’d show her what he meant.

#elucien fic #elucien smut #elucien prompt #elucien #PART SEVEN #????????#do we want to see them do it or like....#are we all good

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yandere-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Title: Vantage Point.

Commissioned by the very patient, very lovely @yandere-vale.

Word Count: 5.1k.

Pairing: Yandere!Glimmer/Reader (She-Ra).

TW: Fem!Reader, Aged Up Characters, Imprisonment, Implied Kidnapping, Isolation, Emotional Abuse, Slight Infantalization, Mentions of Physical Abuse, Past Injury.

At least the view was nice, in Bright Moon.

You should know. You’d had plenty of time to take it in, by now, not that a single glance wouldn’t have been enough to convince any battle-weary refugee that the destination was worth the tiring journey. The jutting canyons, the darkened forests, the permanent twilight painted across skies so stunning, the bay surrounding Glimmer’s kingdom couldn’t rest until it was beautiful enough to reflect them – it was pretty, you could admit that, and it was nice to finally have enough time to take it all in. It was a small silver lining, running thin enough to border on the verge of complete nonexistence, but it was a silver lining all the same. You were allowed to appreciate it. You’d give yourself that. You liked being able to appreciate it.

You just wished you didn’t have to do so from such a distant vantage point.

It might’ve been a tower. You thought it was, at least, from what you could tell from your perch at its peak. Tall, looming, just as rounded and just as seamless as every other building on Bright Moon’s shores. There was no ladder, no staircase, no way down beyond finding the nearest ledge and hoping for the best, and if there was anything to discover beyond the confines of your bedroom, there certainly wasn’t a way to access it. You’d already tried, searched for hidden doors and passageways, tried every possible escape route Glimmer might’ve overlooked, spent a memorable week attempting to break through the solid stone floor, but it was fruitless, pointless, an effort you could only look back on with resent for your own naivety. There was no way for you to get out, not without risking your own life, in the process, and there wasn’t a way for any would-be savior to get in. You were trapped, isolated, cut off from everything you’d ever called your home. Cut off from everyone you’d ever called your friend.

Except her, obviously.

But you’d never made the mistake of calling Glimmer your friend.

You could hear her, your routine silence broken by slow footsteps, but you didn’t look, you didn’t bother to. You’d already been sitting there for hours, perched inside of a carved-out windowsill, admiring everything that you couldn’t have, not anymore, not after Glimmer decided you didn’t deserve it as much as she deserved you. No, you didn’t acknowledge her, you didn’t let yourself acknowledge her, but that never made a difference. She was already approaching you, already behind you, an arm soon wrapped around your torso and a chest slotted against your back, pulling you into something you might’ve called a hug, if she thought to let go. You bit back your rising complaints, swallowing the urge to shove her away and give her another reason to think of you as immature, irresponsible, incapable, but if she appreciated your self-restraint, she clearly didn’t think it was worth her praise.

Glimmer only sighed, shaking her head at your absentee reaction, more than content to act like she couldn’t imagine why imprisonment might lead to some lingering resentment. “Still busy sulking, sweetheart?”

You didn’t answer, not at first, keeping your eyes on the scenery below. You didn’t like it when she got so close, not after everything she’d done. You didn’t like that you had to let her get so closer, or risk spending another month in somewhere far less pleasant than a homey, familiar, inescapable tower. “I’m not sulking,” You mumbled, fighting not to curl into yourself. “You keep me here, imprisoned and alone, and you know I don’t like it. I don’t have to pretend I’m happy to see you.”

“No, but it might be nice if you tried.” There was a laugh, a squeeze, but she pulled away quickly, sliding into the space next to you and forcing you to shrink further into the nearest wall, forcing to you avoid her, if only because she refused to give you the space to reach out on your own. “You can’t act like I haven’t given you plenty of chances to make yourself happy,” She went on, her tone still light-hearted, vaguely amused. She wasn’t taking this seriously. You doubted she would, until you said something to upset her. “It’s not my fault that you refuse to accept my gifts without a fight.”

You didn’t have to ask what she meant. The evidence was still scattered around your bedroom, found in torn lace and ripped silk, crushed flowers and chipped gems, neglected toys and trinkets she'd offered, half-heartedly, attempting to fill she'd left in your life. On good days, you could ignore it, pretend they were meant for someone else, anyone but you. On most days, felt sick at the thought of indulging Glimmer's one-sided show of kindness.

“Presents won’t make this bearable. I don’t need distractions.” You let yourself exhale, leaning back, your posture just slack enough to make the idea of continuing this conversation tolerable. Something shot through the flesh below your shoulder blade, a single strike of agony before the feeling faded into a steady throb. A reminder of a wound that wasn’t quite healed, but one you’d already disregarded, nonetheless. “I need to go outside. I need you to let me go. I need you to stop acting like you’re doing this for my safety.” Glimmer flinched, her jaw locking into place, but you ignored the small pang of guilt that followed. Good. If she expected you to find a way to live with this, she could find a way to live with the discomfort. “I was doing fine before I met you, and I’d still be doing fine, without your help. It’s not fair to assume I’d—”

“Really?” Glimmer cut you off, any trace of her levity gone. “Are you sure you can’t come up with a single reason I might be hesitant to let you take care of yourself?”

Immediately, you fell quiet, turning away yet again. This time, Glimmer didn’t seem to mind your silence.

“Believe it or not, I’m not trying to make you miserable,” She said, not for the first time. Like you were supposed to believe it. Like she could expect you to believe it. “I just want to keep you safe. If you have to be unhappy for me to do that, then so be it.”

And, just like that, she was gone.

For a moment, you almost missed her.

You didn’t break her next gift.

You wanted to. The temptation was always there, you doubted you’d ever grow fond enough of Glimmer for it to completely go away, but you ignored it, brushed it off, pushed it just far enough down to pretend it didn’t exist at all. It helped that she’d given you a book, this time. Usually, her gifts were materialistic, unsubstantial, things that were better at making you look cute and harmless than helping you pass the time. She hadn’t left, yet. That helped too. You still had bruises from the last time you didn’t give her rage time to cool, and you weren’t eager to reopen old wounds.

Books could be used. Books could be read. Books were heavy, and they meant you could do something, if only sit passively and take in a story that wasn’t yours. That was more credit than Glimmer had ever given you before. Part of you worried it was more credit than she’d ever give you again.

That might’ve been why you asked. You wanted logic. If there was a method to her madness, there would be a way to predict what comes next, to try to guess if there was a reason she’d done this at all. You wanted there to be a reason. “Aren’t you afraid I’m going to use this?”

Glimmer didn’t look up from the letter in her hands, multiple pages of important political correspondence, you were sure. She’d taken your bed, when she first arrived, and you’d hid yourself away at the vanity on the other side of the room. A part of you hated it, how she dominated what was supposed to be your space so easily. Another part of you was just glad to have a reason to feel like you actually had a space you felt was yours, if only when someone else invaded it.

Her response came in the form of a hum, light and curious, then a question. “Use it?”

“You know,” You started, before you were entirely sure what you wanted to say. “To escape, or something. I might still find a way to.”

Glimmer laughed, and suddenly, you knew why she was such an unopposed ruler. By the time she actually spoke, you’d already begun to regret saying anything at all. “Planning to beat the walls in with a paperback? I think I’d have to hand over my crown, too, if you managed that.”

Your face burnt, and your grip around the novel tightened. If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve reconsidered your decision to keep this one. “I could always attack you.”

“Do you want me to take it away?”

“Please don’t.” You spoke quickly, as softly as you could, but your panic was still audible, the rush of anxiety you wished you didn’t have to give weight, after so many months of letting your instincts lay dormant. “I just… I guess I just want to know why you didn’t do this earlier. You’ve always given me clothes and that kind of stuff, and this seems more—”

Glimmer didn’t let you finish. She rarely did, when you spoke for any longer than she cared to let you. “C’mere, angel. You shouldn’t be so far away.”

It wasn’t a demand, not really, not when she said it so casually. It wasn’t, but you treated it like one, pushing yourself to your feet and reluctantly approaching her, your eyes never leaving the ground. In your defense, you didn’t fall into her arms, choosing to sit on the edge of your bed and retain a fraction of your dignity, but your aversion didn’t matter. All it took was a strong arm wrapped around your waist, a light tug, and you were tucked into her side, regardless, your head resting on her chest and your legs folded underneath you. For once, you were glad she kept you so isolated. You wouldn’t have been able to live with the embarrassment, if anyone else was around to see you like this.

“Everything I do, I do because it’s what I think is best for you.” There was a pause, like this meant anything. Like she thought she was comforting you. Like this could be comforting, to anyone who didn’t share in her twisted fantasy. “Don’t worry about the details, that’s the kind of thing you’re supposed to let me take care of. It won’t do you any good to overwork yourself, like that.” Her hand fell to your waist, signaling for you to agree. You managed a quick nod, and Glimmer went on, pleased. “Just sit back and relax. No need to worry your pretty little head over anything I think you do or don’t deserve.”

Your throat felt dry. The sheets below you felt scratchy, uncomfortable, like you were sitting on sandpaper rather than satin. You wanted to get up. You wanted to, but you didn’t. “I don’t… I mean, you’re probably right, but—”

“I am right.” She was laughing, reaching over to cup your cheek and tilt your head back, her lips soon pressed against the top of your head, but the gesture was hollow, it felt hollow, and you could’ve hated yourself for ever trying to give it meaning. Glimmer was good at that, making you feel like you were paranoid, too preoccupied with yourself to ever see the bigger picture. She was good at making you feel like you were in the wrong. She was good at making you feel like you’d always been wrong, even if you knew she couldn’t be right. “You just need a little help, that’s all. You were too reckless, when you came to me, you just got yourself into too much trouble. I just want to make sure you don’t get yourself hurt, anymore.”

You believed her. You could believe her. If you wanted to, you could make yourself believe her.

You’d have to believe her, if you ever wanted to survive what came next.

It felt like fire.

In your veins, in your blood, under your skin and spreading, every time you moved or shifted or took a breath deeper than the shallow, airy inhales you’d gotten used to, by now. It didn’t have any right to hurt as much as it did, honestly. The wound was old, mostly healed, a shadow of a scar of a lasting injury that’d already overstayed its welcome, but it felt like something new, something fresh, something that you’d gotten the other day, rather than so many years ago. Something raw, something bloody.

Something that Glimmer was making worse with every passing moment, whether or not she meant to.

She was trying to help. You reminded yourself of that. She didn’t trust a medic with you, and you’d had to beg her not to use the temperamental healing magic that so often left much more able-bodied soldiers in much worse condition than simple, external wounds could ever achieve, but you almost wished you hadn’t bothered. She must’ve been using the wrong ointment, the wrong elixir. She must’ve been being too harsh, or too gentle, or messing with something that made flesh and tissue smolder where it shouldn’t have, the pain vivid enough to make you curl into yourself, sink into the mattress, try to escape something that you already knew couldn’t be as bad as you were making it out to be, in your own mind. Whatever she was doing, it hu-

“Does it hurt, love?” Glimmer asked, slowly.

“It doesn’t,” You answered, without hesitation. “It just… It stings more than I expected it to.”

You tried to sound confident, but your voice wavered as her fingertips skirted over scarred tissue, your fists curling around the pillow you were clinging to, despite the way you knew it must’ve looked. Her bed was so much softer than yours, everything in her chambers so much more plush, but that made sense. She was royalty, and you were her prisoner. Your bedroom wasn’t simple, not by any means, but Glimmer's was…

She was a queen. You shouldn’t forget that, however convenient she made it to try. She was a queen, and you weren’t.

“If you’d let me tend to it earlier, it wouldn’t be so bad.” She was scolding you, but playfully, tenderly enough to let you calm down, some of the tension in your rigid form dissolving as you crossed your arms under your head and tried to relax. There was a moment of reprieve, the sound of glass clinking against glass, and a wave of cold air rushed over your injury, dulling any lingering pain into an unpleasant awareness. You would’ve thanked her for it, if the thought did leave a bitter taste on your tongue. You might’ve, still, if she hadn’t chosen to keep going before you could say anything at all. “Count yourself lucky it’s not infected. It’s almost as bad as it was, when we first met.”

It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. Or it might’ve been, you couldn’t really remember. It’d been so long since it was first inflicted, since the last spark of a war that’d spanned longer than your lifetime died out and you were left with the scars to prove you’d survived it, even if the majority of your hometown hadn’t been able to recover in the years that followed. You could barely walk when you first arrived in Bright Moon, but that might’ve been the exhaustion, or the stress, or some other vague, abstract concept that’d been just apparent enough for Glimmer to catch and take pity on you, despite the horror’s she must’ve faced on her own.

You stopped yourself before your thoughts could spiral any further. She pitied you, but you wouldn’t pity her. You refused to. You’d seen where it led, what kind of obsession it could create, and you didn’t want that. You wouldn’t let yourself believe you did.

“But it’s going to get better, right?” You couldn’t keep that hopeful lilt out of your voice, an equal mix of manufactured positivity and genuine optimism, despite yourself. “That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? So you can take care of me?”

There was a brief silence, then a small chuckle. Your wound felt warm, again, smoldering around the edges, and for a moment, you almost found it reassuring. “Of course,” She agreed, but she was still laughing. You wished she would stop. “That, and because I like having you around.”

It was almost funny.

You thought you’d be relieved, when she was finally honest with you.

It hurt, again. It must’ve been the paste she was using, something thick and elastic that kept a cluster of soft, generously applied bandages plastered to your skin. It was far from comfortable, too tight in places, too loose in others, uneven in a way that meant you’d have to tear off what you could and wrap your chest more thoroughly in an hour, at most, but you forced yourself to smile, to sit up and stretch as if doing so didn’t leave something in your spine twisted and cramped. You could complain, if you wanted to, you doubted Glimmer would be that petty, but there wasn’t a point. It was easier to keep her happy, with or without any caveats. You could live with the mild pain, for now.

Glimmer rewarded you with a small grin, a gentle hand on your cheek when you turned to face her. “My brave little sweetheart,” She started, nearly cooing. You tried to tell yourself it was unintentional. “You should probably rest, I might not be able to help if you make things any worse. I’ll take you back to your—”

It was a flare of panic, sudden and unmistakable. A shot of anxiety, a sudden burst of pure dread – something so mindless and so overwhelming, you were throwing yourself at her before you had a chance to think better of it, burying your face in her chest and latching on to her shirt, letting her wrap her arms around you when she recovered from any short-lived shock. “Do I… do I have to go back?” You managed, reluctantly. You didn’t want to ask, you didn’t want to fall so far, but you couldn’t go back to that tower. You just couldn’t. “Please, you can restrain me again, I just don’t want to—”

You were cut off by a squeeze to your side, an idle chuckle. You already knew what she would say, but the way she paused still made you hesitate. It made you feel unsure, obedient, like anything she’d done had ever mattered to you.

Like you were starting to need her as much as she claimed to need you.

“All you had to do was ask.”

It took you three hours to pick the lock on Glimmer’s door.

Three weeks, technically, if you counted the time you spent observing, watching, waiting until she trusted you enough to leave you to rest in her palace, rather than sending you back to that freezing, forsaken tower. It was a frustrating precaution, molding yourself into something submissive, begging to spend just one more night in her bedroom rather than your own, but you needed to know Glimmer’s schedule, the rotation of her guards, what you had to work with and how many flimsy, flat trinkets you’d be able to get your hands on before Glimmer started to question your new fascination with hairpins and letter openers. You needed to know who else was in the palace, who else you could get to before you were caught.

You needed to know who to run to, when you finally got out of the softened, insufferable cage Glimmer kept you locked inside of.

Three hours. On and off, one minute at a time, every little creak and jolt and tell-tale snap serving as another reason to hold your breath, to stop and listen, to shut your eyes and hope you’d never have to do this again. You could’ve cried when the lock finally gave away, when the polished marble of her door finally slackened and relaxed, falling open without a struggle. There weren’t any guards outside, you timed it so there wouldn’t be, but you doubted you would’ve cared if there were. You could already hear footsteps against solid tile, and hope flared in your chest before you could think to press it down, bright and burning and overflowing as you took in your soon-to-be savior – a girl, a few years older. A woman. Her name came to you in a moment.

Catra, a warrior, a war hero.

Someone who could help you.

You didn’t throw yourself at her, not like you threw yourself at Glimmer. You didn’t have to, you didn’t want to sacrifice your pride like that, not anymore, but that didn’t stop you from grinning like an idiot, from stumbling over your own feet as you sprinted in Catra’s direction, barely listening to her stifled swearing before it came to a jarring stop. You might’ve said something. You might’ve just opened your mouth and closed it again. You might’ve stuttered and mumbled and blabbered incoherently until her expression shifted, gave away, more out of relief than kindness. More out of understanding than any real empathy.

She cut you off, and something in your heart clenched painfully.

“You’re Glimmer’s, right?”

You shook your head. You would’ve denied it, but you couldn’t remember how to speak. Part of you wondered if you’d ever really known how to, at all.

“Dressed like it,” Catra went on, rolling her eyes, her tone only a touch above sardonic. You didn’t have to throw yourself at her – she was already taking you by the wrist, dragging you in the same direction she’d been heading, regardless, never giving you the choice not to follow. “C’mon, I don’t want to deal with Sparkle’s tantrums, today. You’re coming to the war room.”

You didn’t get a chance to refuse. You doubted she would’ve listened if you did, but you could’ve tried, you should’ve said something. It would’ve felt right, if nothing else, to put your foot down, to make a run for it, to tell someone what Glimmer had done to you, even if it was starting to seem like Catra might not make much of a shoulder to cry on. Even in the moment, you knew you’d regret it, but…

But, you couldn’t bring yourself to do much of anything.

You didn’t know what else you’d expected, honestly.

The palace was bigger than it looked, from your usual vantage point. The adrenaline had started to die down by the time you reached the ‘war room’, leaving you drained, tired, dragging your feet as Catra tugged you through a door twice your height, the guards that stood on either side of the entryway barely batting an eye at your bare feet and disheveled appearance. The ceilings were too high, the gold accents just a little too polished, everything too bright despite the lack of an apparent light source. It hurt, in a way. You wondered if it would hurt this much if you actually got outside.

Catra didn’t introduce you. She didn’t have to, not when you were abandoned as quickly as you were brought in, left to stand at the head of their table, tense and alone, as Catra drew attention to herself, instead, clearing her throat as she approached the other Princesses. You recognized most of them, anyone would – Mermista, barely glancing over you before she lost interest, Perfuma, kind enough to try to smile in your direction, and Adora, the Adora, She-Ra, still dressed in full armor, her arms crossed over the rounded table, her lips pressed into a thin frown and her expression…

And her expression identical to the one Glimmer wore, back when youstill had the option to look at other people.

It hurt, obviously, but you didn’t have much time to linger on the festering sting. You were already being lifted off your feet, a pair of strong hands or… claws, rather, clamping around your biceps and pinning your arms to your sides, squeezing so tight, you could hear something in your torso crack. You didn’t have to guess at a name. Even if you couldn’t see Scorpia’s face, her voice was enough, light and jovial, as if you hadn’t flinched away as she touched you. As if you weren’t close to tears. “Catra brought a friend!” You could’ve cried. You might’ve, if your embarrassment hadn’t been so much less ignorable than your mounting trepidation. “Finally, I was starting to think our wildcat would never break out of her shell. This is great, right, Adora?”

“It’s perfect,” Adora replied, obviously upset, but Catra only shrugged her off, draping herself over Adora’s shoulders she scoffed, keeping her glare centered on you. “You’re late. Is this supposed to be an excuse?”

“This,” She said, gesturing in your direction, “is supposed to be one of Glimmer’s. I wouldn’t have mess with it if I had a choice, but she looked lost, and you know how Glimmer would get if she wandered off.”

There was a huff, a chuckle, a mumbled ‘you know I’m right’, but it was hard to listen, it was hard to care. Your vision was blurring, your throat tightening up, but you fought back the tears as well as you could, knowing it’d only make your frustration that much worse. You didn’t want to make yourself look helpless, not here, not surrounded by people who were obviously so much stronger than you, but you couldn’t hold your hands steady, you couldn’t stop the way your breath hitched while it was still in your lungs. You wanted to hide. You wanted to run. You wanted to go back to your tower, and you hated yourself for it. “Please, I… I’m a captive, I shouldn’t—”

“Ah, why didn’t you say so sooner? Glimmer must be worried sick.” It was Perfuma, this time, still watching from a distance. You couldn’t tell if she’d heard you, but you choose to believe she hadn’t. It’d be easier, if you assumed no one was listening to you at all. “Scorpia, you’re not holding her too tightly, are you? It’d be a shame if there were bruises, after we finish.”

“Who, me? You know I’d never hurt a fly,” Scorpia laughed, tightening her grip. You made a breathy, pitiful sound, something between a gasp and a whimper, but neither seemed to notice. Neither seemed to care. You weren’t sure which you would’ve preferred, anymore. “Even if this one’s a little more… fleshy, than what I’m used to.”

You opened your mouth, ready to tell her she would leave bruises, that she wasn’t being gentle, but you didn’t have time, not before Adora spoke up, her posture a fraction more relaxed than it had been, a minute ago. “Don’t worry about leaving marks,” Adora cut in, nonchalantly. She had an arm strung around Catra’s waist, now, but she was still looking at you. If you’d been a touch more desperate, you might’ve thanked her. If you’d felt any smaller, you might’ve asked her to stop. “Glimmer’s been talking about this for months. I haven’t seen anyone that excited since…” She trailed off, throwing a glance in Catra’s direction, earning a wicked grin in response. For a moment, you wondered why you’d ever thought either one of them would try to help you. “Since someone realized she didn’t have to wait for us to fight to get her claws out.”

Perfuma rolled her eyes. Scorpia groaned. You wanted to ask what she meant. You wanted to scream for her to go on, to tell you what that was supposed to mean, to just go on until you could pick one of the awful, dark, twisted thoughts swirling around in your head and let that shove you off the edge before anything worse could. You had to know what was going to happen to you. You didn’t want to know, you didn’t want to anything, but you had to find out. It was a matter of survival. It was a matter of life and death. It was something you needed, and for a second, you thought you might be able to vocalize that. You thought you might be able to say it. You thought you might be able to actually say it.

Then, a familiar voice called your name, and again, you lost your chance to do much of anything at all.

Scorpia didn’t have to be told to put you down. By the time you could think to ask, you were already back on your feet, your knees threatening to buckle as you struggled to keep yourself upright. You could’ve collapsed. A part of you wanted to, most of you wanted to, but it only would’ve made things worse, it only would’ve made you seem more childish, even you doubted anyone was paying attention to you, anymore. No, Scorpia had gone back to the other Princesses, Catra and Adora still preoccupied with each other, and you were left alone, shaking, at the mercy of the woman currently positioning herself in front of you, cupping your cheek, tilting back your head as you fought not to push her away. You didn’t want her to touch you.

You weren’t really sure what you did want, anymore.

“Poor little thing,” She said, her voice already soft, sweet. She might be angry, later on, she probably would be, but you tried not to think about that. You could only be thankful she wasn’t, right now. “I think you’ve had enough fun, for today. All of this is clearly too much for you to handle.” She stopped, leaning down, her lips barely brushing against your forehead. It wasn’t a kiss, but it was close to one. It didn’t hurt, and that was all you could bring yourself to care about. “Are you ready to go home?”

She might’ve been talking about her room. She might’ve been talking about the tower. She might’ve been talking about something else entirely – a dungeon, a prison cell, a cramped, darkened room you wouldn’t be able to slip out of quite as easily. You didn’t know. You should’ve, but you didn’t.

“I…” You were barely able to whisper. It was pathetic, honestly, but you forced yourself to go on. It would be worse, if you drew it out. It would be unbearable, if you had to stay here.

You just wanted to be alone, even if you had to be alone with Glimmer.

“I’m ready.”

#yandere #yandere love #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere prompts #yandere commissions #commissions #writing commissions #yandere fantasy #yandere fanfiction #yanderecore #yancore

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therealvalkyrie · 4 years

Text

Painter’s Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 2

insomniac

Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU

Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: insomnia, nightmares, (remembering) death, panic attack, cuddling, fluff

AN: Here she is!! I’ve decided to give oc a little ~tragic backstory~ and I really hope it comes across like I’ve intended. I wouldn’t go so far as to call in angst, necessarily, but there’ll definitely be some in the future. Also, I know I’ve painted Annie and Reiner in a really bad light so far in this particular fic, but please know that’s not how I view them in canon at all - it’s simply because someone had to be the bad guy:( Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy and as always don’t hesitate to reach out via reblog/ask with any suggestions/feedback/questions!! ~valkyrie

(read Part 1.5 here)

Bodies jostle against you in the darkness to the beat of music you can’t hear. The buzzing gets louder, drowning out even your own screams for them to stop.

Stop. Stop. STOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP!

“STOP IT!” You can hear yourself this time, your voice embarrassingly loud in the cramped room. You slap hands over your mouth but everyone’s already turned to look at you, disgusted at the display of emotion. Even they peel their faces apart to sneer down their noses.

“Why should we?” Annie’s voice rings with superiority, swirling around the space and nestling in the crook of your neck. You shudder away, but the faceless bodies shove you back.

“Don’t you know this is your fault, anyway? You weren’t enough for me.” Reiner jeers with a satisfied smirk. The whole room laughs, cackling and giggling spitefully. You can’t move, muscles frozen, as they turn back to each other and continue making out. His hand in her hair, her thigh hooked over his hip, obscenely wet noises from their joined mouths.

You scream and scream and scream, jaw wide and aching, and all of a sudden the scene shifts and you’re at your mother’s bedside. Your breath hitches and you’re screaming in a child’s voice this time.

“Mommy, Mommy, no, please, no, MOMMY, PLEASE--”

Your hand twitches towards her and its movement against soft sheets brings you back to consciousness.

You’re spread-eagled in bed, comforter kicked almost completely off, chest heaving.

“One. Two. Three. Four…” you count in a hoarse whisper to yourself, staring out the window at gently falling snow illuminated in yellow streetlights. It takes you to one hundred and twenty-seven before you’re calm enough to do anything productive.

You reach out a blind hand to find your phone on the nightstand and raise it up to check the time. 4:47 am. Nearly three hours of sleep.

Eh, good enough for jazz.

You heave a sigh, then push up to sit on the edge of your bed and flick on the lamp. The sudden bright light makes you squint against sharp pain behind your eyes and turn away in search of a sweatshirt. Some sifting through the ever-growing pile of laundry later, you settle on a green university hoodie and pull it on over your ratty tank top. Your toes and fingers always feel like icicles after waking up from a nightmare, so you find faux fur-lined slippers as well.

As you push past your bedroom door and into the living room, a figure in the comfy armchair catches the corner of your eye.

You nearly jump out of your skin before recognizing who it is. “Christ on a cracker, Levi! Nearly scared me half to death.”

“Sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry as he marks the page in his book and sets it on the coffee table.

“What are you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same.”

“Well that’s not ominous or anything,” you mutter with an eye roll as you cross to the kitchen and set the kettle to boil for coffee.

Levi sighs and pinches the bridge of his elegant nose.

“Sorry. That’s not what I meant. It’s just… I noticed you haven’t been sleeping much lately and I’m worried.” He crosses to sit at the kitchen table and speaks to your back as you shuffle around the kitchen.

“What do you mean? Of course I’ve been sleeping. Whaddaya think I was just doing?”

“It’s five am, and you were still up when I went to sleep at twelve. Optimistically, that’s four hours of sleep. And yesterday you went to bed after one, but Hange said you were texting her at five-thirty, and--”

“Jeez, what, have you been stalking me or something?” you ask with an incredulous glance over your shoulder.

“We live together. It’s kind of hard not to notice.” Levi’s tone is the usual dry you’ve come to expect, but there’s an undercurrent that you’re too exhausted to pinpoint. “And Hange also told me she’s been worried.”

“What is this, an intervention? Just because I break up with someone I’m suddenly incapable of functioning?” Your voice (and headache) rises with each phrase, cracking on the morning dryness in the air, and you spin to face him.

“I didn’t say that, I--”

“Am I just supposed to wallow in misery for the rest of my life? No. I’m not doing that, Levi, I’m moving on. I-- I’m a busy woman, I’ve got finals and, and internship applications, and I happen to enjoy waking up early. I like watching the sunrise.” Though your words are rushed and you’re gesturing animatedly, uncertainty seeps through the stuttered phrases in your argument.

Levi lets you finish, then returns in a measured voice: “Why are you so defensive about this? I know you’re busy. So am I. But I manage to get more than four hours of sleep at night. I just want to help.”

His statement hangs in the air like dust mites, swirling around you and clinging to the sticky after-effects of the nightmare in your mind. You frown and drop your eyes to the linoleum, guilt settling into the stickiness.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Your voice is much softer. “I just--” A deep sigh. “I can’t sleep.”

“Why?”

The simple question makes your breath stutter and you scrub a hand down your face in an effort to ground your skin into reality.

“It’s so stupid.” It’s practically a whisper. “I have these nightmares. About my mom. I got them when I was younger, too, but eventually they just sort of… stopped. But now they’re back. And I can’t ever get back to sleep after, so I just stopped bothering to try.”

“You know, sometimes I get nightmares, too.”

The admission catches you off guard, your eyes widening. Levi always seems so… steady and sure, you wouldn’t have expected it.

“Really?”

He nods. “About my mom and the foster homes.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you…” Your heart sinks, and you don’t know how to say you’re sorry for the heartbreak he must’ve lived through with any semblance of tact.

“Yeah. It’s not something I talk about much.”

“Right.” You pause and chew on your tongue thoughtfully for a moment. “Do you have...strategies for when you can’t sleep because of them?”

“I have sleeping pills from my psychiatrist and some meditation practices that work for me. I can send you some resources, if you’d like.”

“Yeah, I’d really appreciate that if it’s not a bother.” You feel kind of sheepish now, for raising your voice, and so try to sound extra thankful for his help.

“It’s not.” He stands up and stretches both arms over his head, tipping his face up to the sky, lean body arching and twisting with the effort of it. “I’ll send them to you later today. I’m gonna go back to bed.”

“Okay. Thank you, Levi.”

He nods and yawns, nose scrunching adorably. “Night, kid.”

“Good night.”

As his bedroom door clicks shut, you sigh yet again and turn off the stove. The first thing to avoid is probably coffee.

Your fingers flick off last rivulets of water as you step out of the shower. A shiver rattles its way up your spine before you can grab a towel to dry off. Bless Levi, he had done laundry today and the towel is still dryer-warm, smelling of his favorite fabric softener.

As you go through your evening routine (tooth brushing, face washing, hair drying), you can feel a quiet tension set into your shoulders despite the humidity of the bathroom.

The day had gone okay. You managed to resist coffee until 8 am and cut yourself off at 3. A lecture and a studio in the morning left the afternoon for library studying and a trip to the grocery store.

You had actually seen Bertholdt there, in the cereal aisle. You hadn’t been too keen on having that particular conversation, but luckily he hadn’t seemed to be either. The pair of you exchanged sympathetically awkward smiles before turning back to the Cheerios.

The evening consisted of ordering chinese takeout while obsessing over your latest architecture design project, followed by convincing Hange over the phone not to sleep in the mouse lab for extra credit.

“But Bean will be lonely!” she insisted hysterically. “And Sonny wasn’t looking too hot in lab today, what if he needs his mommy and I’m not there?”

“You’re not their mommy,” you reminded her. “They have each other to keep them company, and if Sonny dies, won’t it support your hypothesis anyway?”

She had eventually acquiesced when you promised to help her plan a memorial should they pass in the night.

So now here you are, skin slowly drying, as you psych yourself up in the mirror to go to sleep.

“It won’t be bad. Just use the meditations Levi sent you.” You try to inject confidence into your voice, but you only end up grimacing at yourself in the mirror. “Ah, fuck it.”

You tuck your towel in firmly around your chest and double check to see your things are put away before going back to your room.

As you pass, you hesitate by Levi’s door for a moment. His normal studying music, Chopin, is on and light creeps out from underneath. Another moment of uncertainty, then you gently knock and poke your head in.

“Levi?” He raises his head from where he’s hunched over an easel, paint brush in hand. Brow furrowed and body tensed like a strung bow, he doesn’t look happy to be interrupted.

Fuck.

“I, uhm, just wanted to say good night.”

He grunts and turns back to the painting.

You take that as your cue to leave.

Back in the sanctuary of your own room, you curse again and kick your desk chair, sending it rolling a couple inches.

Why had you bothered him? To say good night?

“Stupid, stupid, UGH.” Your dramatic outburst ends in flopping face-first into bed. Just because he felt concerned enough to stage a fucking intervention doesn’t mean he’s your fucking nanny. Idiot.

Eventually, you roll over and get up to change into pajamas.

Settling into bed, you open your newly downloaded meditation app and start an audio.

“As you prepare for your meditation practice today, find a comfortable position sitting or lying down where you can fully relax….”

The cool female voice wraps your mind in a hazy blanket of fog and eventually coaxes your body into an achingly needed sleep.

This time the dream wakes you up whimpering into your pillow, arms flung above your head as though you’re skydiving. With a sucking breath, you lift your head to prevent imminent suffocation and instead settle on your side, staring unblinkingly into the darkness. Breath ragged in your chest, your mind can’t seem to move past the last image of your nightmare.

It’s burned into your retinas when you close your eyes and etched onto the moonlight-pale wall when they’re open: your mom’s pallid face staring up at the ceiling, hands resting on top of her blue embroidered duvet cover, chest still.

A sob escapes your unwilling throat and you’re scrambling to sit up and reach for the lamp. The lamplight suddenly reminds you of your own existence in the physical plane, thrusting all your senses into sharp contrast.

Her greying, thinning hair, the frailty in her fingers, the cracks in her lips, the cloying scent of death.

“Nonononononononono,” you moan, hunched over your knees, fingers tangled in your hair. Your stomach is hollow, chest tight, tears now flowing in earnest. It hasn’t been this bad in a long time, not since 7th grade at least.

Do something, do something, you stupid bitch, your mind is yelling at you, and so you force your body to move. Somewhere, anywhere other than here.

You practically fall out of bed and then lean heavily on your desk to compensate for shaking knees as you move to the door. Feet shuffle in the darkness and all of a sudden you’re sniffling outside Levi’s door, fingers in a deathgrip on your shirt. One, two breaths and you knock three hesitant raps.

Fuck. Shit. Instant regret bubbles up in your throat and you pivot away. Before you can get far, the door opens and you hear Levi’s sleep-ragged voice utter your name like a question. Damn.

You turn back sheepishly.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve woken you up. Go back to bed.” Your voice is unnaturally breathy as Levi tries to make you out in the dim light of the moon filtering in through the living room window.

He reaches for your shoulder to gently pull you out of the shadows, and realization crosses his face as he registers the tear tracks and haunting terror in your eyes.

“It happened again,” he states.

You nod hesitantly and wipe at your cheeks with the back of one hand. You try again to tell him that no, really, you’re fine and he should go back to bed, but the words get lost in the tangle of truths between your brain and mouth.

Instead, what comes out is: “Can… can I sleep with you?” Your eyes finally flick to his before you quickly follow up. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, I just- it helps to have someone close….”

Levi watches you for a moment before sliding his hand from your shoulder to your hand and tugging gently.

“Come on.”

You follow him inside and fidget awkwardly at the side of his bed as he climbs in. His room is impeccably neat, not that you would expect anything different from the man who once gave you a five minute lecture about leaving dishes in the sink to soak. It was the most words you’d heard him string together at the time, and he only stopped when he realized you were laughing.

“You sound like my Great Aunt Cheryl,” you said between hiccups of mirth. “Insufferable woman.”

He had looked at you scathingly, then made you promise never to leave the dishes for later again on pain of changing the wifi password.

Once he’s settled, Levi turns back the covers on your side and looks at you expectantly. You falter a split second before climbing in next to him, the familiar smell of his laundry detergent clouding around you as you fall back into soft pillows. He throws the comforter over you, then settles down and opens his arms.

“C’mere, kid,” he says with a tenderness that makes a sniffle catch in the back of your throat.

You roll into his arms, resting your head in the curve of his shoulder and breathe the first easy breath since you woke up. An arm flung around his middle means your whole body is against his, warming you up like a midafternoon nap in August.

Levi settles his arm around your back after tucking in the blankets and holds you like you’ve always belonged there. He gradually, gradually feels you relax into him as your breathing begins to match his own.

After a while, your eyes droop closed and Levi allows himself the indulgence of tucking his nose into your hair. A bouquet of lavender shampoo and you accompanies him softly into his dreams.

(read part 3 here)

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #hange zoe #swearing #insomnia #nightmares #panic attack #painter's hands and guatemalan coffee #valkyrie writes

202 notes · View notes

astriefer · 4 years

Note

“Please hold me.” for thomastair (ofc bc that's what you said) 🥺

Thank you for this! @littlx-songbxrd you asked for this as well. I'm sorry it's so bad.

~~~~~

Trust me with thy heart

Pairing: Thomastair

Words: 4,537

Contains mild angst, some self harm and hurt/comfort.

Note I am awful at writing angst or hurt/comfort. This whole poor writing is based on miscommunication, much or less, or the fear to let others close.

~~~~~

Thomas wasn't fond of fights.

Demons were one thing. Their destiny as Shadowhunters was to protect mankind from those filthy monsters who invade their world. They brought disorder and death. The people he cared about were a different tale.

A light jest with his friends, why not? A banter with his father about taking the coat or not while going outside? Sure. But not a very tumultuous, tempestuous strife with them. He preferred them all to get along with each other.

Thomas liked even less when it was him involved in the disagreement.

He spent the last day jogging between massive training seasons, hanging out with his friends, and losing himself in his thoughts. Now, he avoided everyone in favor of reading Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. He made a special effort to tell no one where he was going, so non could bother him and ask him questions.

So Thomas was stunned when Ariadne Bridgestock, of all people, rushed through the entry in an unmatched combination of grace and ivory skirts, then flopped herself onto the armchair in front of Thomas.

While she had had a pleasant expression on her face, there was a dangerous gleam in her eyes. If Thomas hadn't known better, he would've sworn she came here to murder him.

"You and Alastair fought," she stated.

Thomas glanced between his book to her determined face twice, considering his options. Then, on behalf of good manners, he put a bookmark on the current page he pretended to be reading for half an hour. "Is it Alastair's way to tell me to speak to him? If so, please tell him not to embroil any other folks in our relationship."

"He hadn't sent me," Ariadne ignored the last part of his sentence. "But he did not arrive for our conclave."

A spark of concern lightened up in Thomas, yet he repressed it. He was angry with Alastair, Thomas reminded himself. "And what have you speculated I can do about it?"

She looked at him funny. "Talk to him, I presume."

"Ariadne," he tried, weariness falling heavy on him. "While I appreciate your concern, I doubt Alastair wants to see me. In fact, I doubt whether I want to see him right now. I know you confide in each other-" more than Alastair does with him, the bitter thought tore its way into his head. "And your intentions are well, but I will highly prefer to keep this between myself and Alastair."

He thought this would give her down and make her apologize. "Alastair wouldn't have sent someone else, and he didn't solicit help from myself," she said instead. "He would've given time to you both to collect your minds, and then come to you in clearer mind."

It was right. He knew it was. "So this parley is all you?"

"As I said, Yes. I worried for my friend, who happened to be your partner."

Thomas brushed his thumb on the spine of the book, musing over her words. "Why would you be worried?"

"He stood me up. I came by your flat later, just for him to say nothing has happened. When I asked where you were, he conceded you two had a big bump in the road."

"That's a nice way to put it," Thomas murmured. "I frankly wished to be left alone. It's nothing-"

"Thomas," Her amber eyes met hazel ones. "You are good at many things. Fighting demons, and keeping the rest of the Thieves out of trouble, for example."

He quirked an eyebrow. "And?"

"Lying is not one of them."

Thomas swallowed, endeavoring to hide the feeling of hurt off his face. Recalling what happened a few days before made his whole body ache in pain. "So Alastair and I had a row. It always happens with lads."

"It's not just a lad for you," she pressed. He was wide aware of the chastisement in her words. "It's Alastair. And never have I seen him the way he looked when I checked on him."

"What do you mean?" he asked after he perceived her words. "Alastair was absolutely fine when I left the flat."

"You have to see for yourself." Ariadne said, "Go to him."

Despite the knots formed in the abdomen, he dithered. "Things ended up stormy when we last spoke. Maybe he's still mad. Maybe I'm still mad."

It wasn't just Alastair who was mad. He wondered how Alastair had been this past day, and how was he feeling, among many other thoughts. Yet the cloud of exhaustion and hurt surrounding him perturbated the nervousness. He was allowed to be upset about what happened. It sure wasn't nothing. Not on his part, at most. Why couldn't Alastair just-

"Excuses are not appreciated," Ariadne announced, "So you better confront him already, or I swear I shall chase you to the end of the Earth with my electrum whip." Ariadne threatened, and that what had taken to wake Thomas out of his hesitation.

"Of course," he sighed, "Because I don't have enough troubles already."

She brushed it off again with a smile, and Thomas felt mildly annoyed. He hadn't shown it. "Sort it out. It will benefit the two of you to tackle the problem."

She left no place for arguments. Utterly abandoning the book, Thomas rose to his feet and went to leave the room.

He was glad to get out of the grip of this confusing confab, but he was even more unsure if to listen to her advice.

He was still angry with Alastair.

~~~~~

A veil of fog surrounded the city. It was a prevalent London day, cool and cloudy. The wind is blowing hard, welcoming passersby in a burst of freezing breeze. A thunderstorm on its way, they said.

But those were the last of things that perturbed Alastair's peace of mind. It matched his mood just fine. If someone was to describe him, curled up on his bed alone, he could imagine being portrayed as forlorn and tormented.

No, what bothered him was a particular someone that left and hasn't returned. Alastair hated he still hoped Thomas would return and make him less cold.

His breath was heavy, and his lungs burned like fire. He remembered words that haunted him for weeks in the past. I believed you were more than what others said about you. I conceived myself beneath all the harsh words, was someone with a kind soul waiting to be seen. Was it all a lie I told myself?

Darkness flooded his senses. Trying to get any portion of self-control on his body he could, Alastair rose to his feet, glancing out of the window on unsteady legs without seeing anything at all. Gather yourself together.

But the words burned deep then, and they burned deep now. That was a battle against himself he meant to lose. The cold spread not only from the world beyond the window but from within him. It pulled out his ugly head, writhing and furious, desperately trying to break free and rise to the surface. People walked in the streets, oblivious to his troubles just as he was to theirs.

Thomas wasn't there.

Thomas wasn't there, and Cordelia wasn't there, and anyone he loved wasn't there. He locked himself in their flat for the past day, overthinking and speculating and wondering why did he have to be the way he is. If Thomas had finally realized he deserved someone so much better than Alastair, would he be surprised? Alastair was aware of this fact too well. The way he looked at him when they fought, the shaky hands when he opened the door, and the hours of waiting in case Thomas will return, just for nothing to happen. What does it mean if not that Alastair finally made Thomas give up and leave?

This inner part of him was crying, demanded to be heard, to be set free. A shrill cry came to his ears, and it took him a moment to perceive it belonged to him.

His vision became vague, his head ached, and everything spun around. He tried to lay a hand on the wall - only to find he miscalculated the distance and fell ungracefully on his knees. His heart pounded in his chest while the darkness tried to pull him in; He tried to take a breath and dozens of small knives tore his lungs up. He shrank, gasping for air that didn't come.

Everything seemed blurry, all his mind could engross in was the words Thomas Lightwood told him, the cold truth dripping from them, freezing Alastair all over again.

Alastair was accountable for all the hideous things he'd done and said, unquestionably. How weak is he that he hides behind shallow faces and vicious words? What a dolt he is, hurting a person, mainly the only person outside of his family that seemed to genuinely care for him. His words rang in his head, Thomas's voice haunting every corner.

He sank lower, his breathing gurgling, reaching out in search of something stable, something that would serve as a pillar in the chaos that ensued around him. His hand extended out to the still air and then groped for something to hold on the floor. That came the way of a cold, sharp object that lay on the ground. He gripped it tightly, and he groaned in pain and relief at the physical ache that eased his mind.

"Alastair?" A voice called.

~~~~~

Thomas was about to lose his right mind. Alastair was trembling vigorously, barely able to stand on his feet that were shaking like a leaf swaying in the wind.

"Alastair," Thomas stuttered, with no response back. His indignation vanished to immediate panic. "Alastair?" he repeated more stubbornly.

His chest went up and down quickly; His eyes were wide like that of a deer caught in the automobile light. When Thomas tried to take a step toward him, the smaller man stiffened and stood bolt upright. Thomas stopped dead.

"I came at the behest of Ariadne," he said, just for the sake of talking. Alastair hadn't told him to quiet, so he kept going. "And because I was worried about you."

"Leave," Alastair hissed out frantically. Thomas couldn't stop the throbbing burn striking through his body.

Thomas took a few steps back, allowing Alastair his space. He had no temptation to leave as he requested - Thomas simply waited aside, for a chance Alastair would change his mind. He recalled the nights he woke up from a nightmare, dazed and overwhelmed with emotions, and how Alastair always reassured him in the dead of night.

This Alastair seemed lost in his own mind, unable to escape, and it terrified Thomas. Yet, he shoved the dread aside and put on the most relaxing facade he could. He was told to be quite good at it.

"I'm right here, Azizam."

"Everyone leaves. You can do as well."

Somewhere in his mind, the pieces joined together, like a colossal puzzle. Was he afraid Thomas would leave him? That he would give up on him? he told him he could leave in their run-in, because he thought everyone will leave him in the end?

"I don't know. I don't know how to do it." To cease making the wrong decision. To cease pushing people away. To cease hurting people. "man nemidânam."

"Alastair, can you hear me?"

As he found out, Alastair did not hear him. "I don't want to hurt you. I already hurt you so much." Alastair went on, choking on his own words. Thomas was in full panic mode, and he hurried further toward Alastair with barely contained alarm.

I find you worth any pain to come, Thomas thought.

"It's fine," Thomas said. "I am fine. I want you to be fine as well. It's much more important to me than whether you may or may not harm me."

Something split in his face, and he took a deep breath down his throat. His eyes snapped to Thomas. The terror on his face made Thomas's heart sink.

"Alastair?" he asked, but it didn't manage to elicit a response from the other man.

Thomas drew closer to Alastair, not missing the flinch passing the half-Persian's body. Thomas could hear his breath, shallow and trembling. He could painfully see the tremor of his hands. The wide eyes that so clearly tried to hold back tears. He took one step closer, and Alastair took one back.

Thomas imminently came to a halt. Alastair squeezed hard against the wall. He looked like a captive animal on the verge of losing hope, a man pushed to the edge, an injured soul.

Thomas took one step closer. With his enormous figure, it all needed to reach Alastair. He wrapped his arms around the shorter man, didn't let go even when Alastair squirmed, trying to shove him aside, fought to set free from Thomas's grip. His hold only tightened, and he used his strength to shove Alastair's head into his chest. He kept him close, kept even when Alastair protested, kept his hold when Alastair Surrendered abruptly, sinking into the soft material of Thomas's clothing, even when sobs began and his chest got wet from the tears of his love.

Thomas pressed his lips to the dark hair, held Alastair steadily while he cried. No words of reassurance passed between them. Truly, Thomas wasn't sure Alastair would have heard him if he tried. He knew the touch was what Alastair needed. Their embrace was clumsy and distorted, but it was enough. Enough to tell Alastair he wasn't alone; Thomas wouldn't have let him go through this alone.

With a soft sigh, Thomas finally let loose of his grip. He started to pull away and was surprised when he felt fists clasping on the fabric of the front of his sleeveshirt.

"Please," Alastair whispered desperately."Please hold me."

Thomas couldn't find it in himself to deny it to Alastair. They slipped to the floor. Alastair buried his face in Thomas's chest once again, shaking silently. Thomas felt his mouth forming words on his chest, although he could not tell which. All the while, his hands embraced the slim, shaking form of Alastair.

A few minutes had passed. Or an hour. Or a couple of days. Thomas didn't feel the time had passed while he tried to console his beloved one. He closed his eyes and concentrated on moving his hand on Alastair's small back, kept him close. The other hand came to caress the space between his ear and jawline, where he was creating circles on the tender skin.

Slowly, The dark-haired's breath became more even.

"Here you are," Thomas let a breath of both exhaustion and relief leave his body. "Can you hear me, Eshgham?"

"Y-Yes."

"Would you like me to get you a glass of water?"

"No."

Thomas sighed inertly as he held the other gentleman in his warm hands, promising reassurance and no judgment. Alastair, for the matter, clang to him as if he was drowning and Thomas was his only lifeline.

He never liked to fight with Alastair. It rarely happened, but when it did it left a bitter taste in his mouth and a pang at his heart. But he was not going to give up - not on this. He remembered his mother once told him couples fight, sometimes, because they still care about what the other does. It was their first argument with their new agreement. It didn't make him feel any better at the time. All his life he had been surrounded with unconditioned love, never exposed to the arguments and the imperfect details. It made him view love as just sweet and honey, while he learned that there's more with Alastair.

There's the giving. And the receiving. The trust in the other's intentions and the willingness to make them your priority foremost of all. The disagreements make you understand when your boundaries are and open a place for learning and acceptance. The balance you build with time, something he hoped he could shape with the man in front of him.

The trust part, to his belief, was something they still were working on. Alastair had leaned on him, and Thomas wondered it he thought now he calmed down, Thomas would leave him again. He did the last time.

"I'm not leaving," They locked eyes, and for some reason, he felt hope. "Alastair, I'm not leaving."

There are very few things he wanted more than Alastair. Verily, He was what he longed for above everything else. He wanted Alastair and everything he was.

Alastair didn't answer, but he averted his eyes.

"Are you ready to go now?"

Alastair seemed slightly lost, but he nodded and weakly stood on his legs. He followed Thomas while Thomas flung himself up and let Alastair sat on their bed beside him. The comfortable place always made both feel better - The mix of English and Persian and Spanish books on the bookshelves. The notebooks full of poems Thomas kept beside his side of the bed. Alastair's spears collection. The artworks they bought when they visited art galleries.Even the soft yellow light was a source of relief.

"You are mad," proclaimed Alastair in a hoarse voice.

"So are you," Thomas returned. Alastair shook his head, and Thomas's eyebrows rose. "So what then, if not mad?"

"Mostly nauseous," Alastair murmured, managing to startle a breathy chuckle out of Thomas. "But also bloody exhausted."

Thomas fumble after the right words, before deciding he should be candid. "I didn't like being apart from you in those few days. But I stick to what I told you before, Alastair." He saw it happening - the wall of defense Alastair was building up again after the last one had crushed. "Let me bring some fresh air into here."

Thomas tried to ventilate the room well while Alastair sank into the mattress and sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard. "If you call the London foggy, polluted air fresh, then sure."

A bit of relief passed because of Alastair's quip. He didn't lose it. "It seems you and my father share this opinion."

Thomas scanned Alastair, then noticed the cut on his right palm. Absentmindedly, he approached his side.

"Why did you do it?"

It took Alastair a moment to conceive what he was referring to. He hastily covered it with his other hand, but Thomas saw it. "I - didn't mean to."

Thomas watched the cut in awe as if it was imaginary. However, when he grazed the skin, Alastair winced.

Thomas wasn't sure how to counter this. Their fight. What just happened. Alastair didn't either. Or did he wish to pretend none of this happened? That he -both of them- weren't hurt?

This thought wasn't toleratable to Thomas.

And that's why, after he took his stele out of his dresser and was applying an iratze on Alastair's forearm, that he asked, "I want to talk about what happened the day before yesterday."

He could feel Alastair stiffening, his muscles tensing. "I was upset," Alastair said cautiously. "I shouldn't have snapped at you, Tom."

"You shouldn't have," Thomas agreed. He was done with the iratze and put the stele aside. "But that's not why I'm distraught."

Alastair shot him a tumultuous look. Thomas took a deep breath before looking Alastair dead in the eye. "You were upset, but you wouldn't tell me why. You grumble about things relentlessly, but when you're truly shaken you don't share at all. It's not - just this argument. It's not just one thing. Those small moments you hesitate whether to tell me the truth. The times you don't." He inhaled, letting the cold air fill his lungs. He resisted looking away from Alastair's face, didn't let his eyes flutter around the room like they were trying to do. "Love is also built on trust and communication. If we don't have those, what is left?" He didn't need to hear Alastair's reply. "We talk, and we share, yet I cannot understand why you're so grumpy at times. I need you to tell me."

"Can't one just be pissed off at the world?"

"Alastair."

"Many things can upset me," Alastair said. Thomas might have hallucinated it, but his voice was a bit shaky. "Do you want to hear them all?"

"Yes," Thomas answered immediately. His tone was sincere.

Alastair's hand reached to the other side of the bed, a nonverbal request. They still couldn't stop staring at each other. But not playfully, or lovingly, but earnestly.

Alastair, naked of his facade and any snide remarks. Alastair, whom he grew to know and rarely showed up to many else.

I do trust you. I care for you. were the meaning behind Alastair's gaze. All Thomas wanted is to lean on and forget everything. But still - it was not his pride making him relucent. That was much deeper than that.

He lingered there just for a moment too long, enough to make Alastair believe he declined the request, and his hand quirked in pain for a moment. His face became emotionless - and Thomas had feared he misleadingly deceived Alastair that he didn't want them after all. That he didn't want him.

In moments, he climbed on the bed. He coddled Alastair, silently and diligently. "Tell me. Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing," Alastair retorted eventually. He rubbed his eyes and laid back on the bed board. Then after a moment. "Everything."

"I hate it when I see you suffer and I don't know why," Thomas whispered. "I want to help. More than anything. But you push me away and I am left to think it might be because of me, because-"

"No," Alastair said firmly, extending his hands to cup Thoams's. "You have never been anything but good to me. It's just-," he broke off.

Thomas searched his foggy eyes. "I don't blame you," he told him, "If it's hard for you. But trust me enough to tell me what bothers you, thus we could face it together." He collected his hands in his own, lifting them so he could kiss his knuckles. "I know I want to stand by your side whatever the cost." he was certain about that; No whirlwind to come could change it. "Will you let me?"

Instead of an answer, Alastair kissed him.

Thomas knew he was kind, forgiving, trusting. He knew Alastair was slow to trust, slow to reveal his true feelings, hiding behind sharp words to secure himself from being harmed by people close to him. He knew the world broke his heart - so viciously, and that he took the pieces that were left. It was undoubtedly hard. Alastair had changed so much, yet Thomas wanted to understand, to reassure Alastair they were in this together.

"Hamsar-am," Alastair said when they pulled away. "I will try."

Thomas smiled at the endearment term. His heart was throbbing fast. "I was mad," he confessed, "because you refused to tell me what's wrong. You pretended. And I - I don't want facades, my love. I want the truth. I want you."

"I don't want to be weak around the people I love," Alastair whispered, and Thomas understood. To what extent did he fear that if he shows weakness, his friends and family would suffocate him again, shield him from the world as they did when he was younger? How much he feared at slightest of weakness shown, he would be smothered as Thomas had been when he was too small, too fragile?

But Alastair never did that. He supported him in his way, allowed him to be weak without acting as if Thomas was made of glass. "So not weak to everyone," He was astonished he found it in himself to laugh softly. "Each other will be enough. We can be vulnerable with one another."

Alastair stared at him for a long moment. Eventually, a faint smile appeared on his lips. "Okay."

"This is just another way of trust."

So Alastair told him. He told him about the rumors he heard from the London enclave about his family, the looks he had gotten. Of the words of people who were white while Alastair was brown. He didn't mind, much, but it drew attention to his family. And to Thomas. Respectable family and a kind heart seemingly weren't enough to make the rumors - and who spread them - silence. The opposite is correct - the fire burned even brighter, and its flame was like cutting knives. The people who matter didn't care about their agreement, and Alastair long stopped paying attention to rumors. But when it was about Thomas, he said, he had been furious. The stories unfolded, the truth shone through, and the more Alastair talked - not just about rumors, but on the way some of the people treated him, of the Cornwall's townhouse and its residents, the things his soul troubled about were finally out.

Thomas listened, understood, stroked Alastair's cheek when he seemed to start shaking again, but now out of relief instead of concealed agony.

They sunk into a comfortable silence in the end. Up until Alastair inquired, "You were out for so long. Where were you?"

"At the institute," Thomas replied. The concept of coming back to his parents' townhouse, admitting the quarrel, rewinding it all in his head countless times while enduring Sophie and Gideon's worrying looks, was nothing he wished to do. "Or somewhere I could avoid anyone."

"And now?" he asked tentatively. "You come back?"

"I have no intentions to leave this bed even if Ariadne herself will come to pluck me off the sheets." He affirmed.

Alastair's smirk became genuine this time. "Ariadne was here today."

When Thomas said "I know" he got a quizzical look from Alastair so he supplied, "She found my whereabouts and made me go confront you. Not much subtly, may I add."

"Yes. This jinx made me open up the door and refused to leave until I told her what happened."

Thomas silently laughed.

"I..suppose it was rather cathartic," Alastair said. It was evening now, Thomas noted, and none of them found it in themselves to get up and eat supper. They just kept their bodies close, relishing their air of comfort.

"Indeed. This, this was good. Splendidly better than reading the same page over and over again in the Devil's tavern or pretending to care what waistcoat Matthew is taking to the impending party at Anna's flat."

"You thought the place you and your squad go to hide is the best place to hide from them?" Alastair asked.

"It seemed reasonable at the time," Thomas murmured. "Each of us has a kind of hideout, have we not?"

Where was Alastair's safe hideaway? At home, with a book in hand? At museums, drinking in art and beauty? Was it hiking in the streets of London by himself and enjoying the view and the whispers of nature?

"You," Alastair said. Thomas hadn't realized he voiced his question aloud. A tired, small smile played on Alastair's lips, yet his words were soft, plain and simple. Their eyes locked, and he could feel how genuine Alastair was. "You are my hideout."

~~~~~

Dictionary:

man nemidânam - I don't know

Eshgham - my love

Hamsar-am - my equal head, my better half

#alastair carstairs #thomastair #thomas lightwood #the last hours #my fics #thomastair fics #for the matter Thomas does NOT know how to help Alastair in the state he was in. He doesn't know the right way to approach this.#They just found solace in physical affection so he found it fitting there too #I'm sorry #littlx-songbxrd #carstairstessa #Besides I take centuries to write because not only I am extremely busy (and sunk way too deep into the fluff fic and Choi)#but have to wait for inspiration to strike. It works not another way.#so sorry

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cybernaght · 3 years

Text

The Rebel/叛逆者: A Review of Sorts

After being only semi-invested in the Rebel, I ended up getting so into it in the final weeks of its release, I’ve shelled out on IQIYI premium just to get the final couple of episodes a few days earlier.

That’s right kids, it’s a Review of Sorts. Unfortunately, I could not find a translation of the novella the drama is based on, so will be looking at it as a separate entity.

Most of this post is spoiler-free, however I have dedicated a few paragraphs at the end of it to discussing the final episode, as there are a few specific things about it I wanted to mention. There is a clear spoiler warning before that part.

If you don’t want to risk it, TL;DR version of this review goes something like this: Rebel is very decent, and positively one of the best things that I have seen to come out of China since I’ve jumped into that particular rabbit hole. It’s pretty well written, it’s very beautifully dressed and shot, and the cast is killing it. I thought it dropped the ball a little in post production, and I did not always love the pacing. Other than that, it’s incredibly decent, and well worth watching, unless communist propaganda really irks you, in which case stay very well away.

I have been having many conversations with @supernovasimplicity all the way through watching this drama, so there are likely to be some thoughts here that are influenced by those.

The story centers around Lin Nansheng, a struggling servicemen in the Guomingdang party. He has a great analytical mind, and absolutely no emotional capacity for his job. He has trouble handling violence, he is impulsive, he cannot speak to his superiors without bursting into tears, and has nothing even remotely resembling a poker face. And that is what makes this drama as enjoyable as it is.

I don’t think Lin Nansheng’s journey would have been nearly as exciting had he started it from a place of competence. He botches up everything he touches because his big brain switches off the moment his emotions kick in. And so, when you see him grow in confidence, learn to control himself, learn to fake his smiles and compliments, you can’t help but feel a strange sense of pride. It also makes Lin Nansheng very likeable as a character for reasons other than Zhu Yilong’s ability to look like a bush baby.

It did take me a while to feel fully engaged with his performance - not because there is anything lacking in it, but just because it’s hard to be truly surprised by his choices after the exposure I have given myself to his work. That said, at about a half-way point I got charmed by him anyway, and there were quite a few scenes that were truly mesmerising. There were scenes where he broke out of the familiar mould of big unguarded eyes and fluttering wet eyelashes, and tried something that was not pretty: every time to a great success. I am hoping to see more of that in his future work.

I really wanted to like the female lead, Zhu Yizhen, but unfortunately both the way she was written and the way she was performed by Tong Yao left me somewhat cold. It did not help of course that the screenplay ended up sidelining her at every turn, leaving her with very little personal agency. She was set up so interestingly, but in the end her sole purpose became being someone for Lin Nansheng to pine over. It is particularly curious from a perspective of meta storytelling: seeing how this is all centered around superiority of communism, which as a whole was, arguably, ahead of its time in the matters of binary gender equality.

The ensemble cast of the drama is stunning. Wang Yang came very close to stealing the show at several points as Chen Moqun, somehow managing to make his rather unlikeable character interesting. I can say the same thing about Zhu Zhu who absolutely shined as Lin Xinjie, showing an incredible range and imagination in her performance.

The overarching story of the show is engaging, with some incredibly suspenseful elements; every narrative arc including a nice progression through it. As spy thrillers go, it was fairly well plotted. You could if you go looking for a few things that did not pay off in a satisfying way (notably, the Chekhov’s cyanide capsule), but you overall the story really was well told for the most of it.

I did, however, feel like the pacing started to fall apart in the last quarter of the drama. Last episode in particular really did feel rushed, not just due to its pace, but also in a way it failed to pay off the final mission in any visible way. There will be more on that in the spoiler section of this post.

Important to note that The Rebel is a show made in Communist China in the year 2021. It does not ideologically side-step from the path that was laid out for it by that fact. Which is to say, it is, undeniably, filled with propaganda. Communists are the good guys, and if you think a good guy (or gal) is not a communist, they probably secretly are. With one exception of a friendly character who is not a communist, and whose fate we actually never find out. Curious, that.

The Rebel is not a kind of a show where censorship-appeasing scenes are shoehorned in. It’s a kind of a show in which the main theme is Sacrifice For the Party.

Aside from the being the moral vector of the show, Mao’s gentle teachings explicitly help get Ling Nansheng out of prolonged depression following his injury, and almost annoyingly, this sat incredibly well with the character, as he was written. Lin Nansheng is conceived as this naive idealist who wants to be on the front line, who needs validation and support of others. His - and I can’t believe I’m saying this - his being disillusioned in his beliefs and choosing to join a party which includes people whom he likes and trusts makes sense. Him finding this one thing that gives him hope and letting it propel him into gaining confidence and competence makes sense.

In many ways, the Rebel is a story of Lin Nansheng’s failure to become an antagonist within the world of the drama.

I have honestly spent this past couple of weeks pondering whether being well written makes political propaganda better or worse, whether the subtlety of it makes it more or less palatable, whether it’s enough, as a viewer, to be aware of it to shrug it off. Ultimately, this is not something I could or should make moral judgements on, but I do believe that it’s possible to acknowledge the fact that propaganda exists in the drama, and still appreciate it for a good piece of television that it is.

That said, I am very well aware that me being kind of okay with it stems entirely from my own removal from the culture this is made in, and I am, perhaps, lucky to even have a choice as to whether I want to engage with a product which is, undoubtably, here to dress political ideology in fancy clothes.

I have, on the other hand, also seen many things in Russian media of the “Annexation of Crimea is Good Actually” variety and those make me feel very unwell, so feeling somewhat at ease with blatant political propaganda in Chinese media makes me the biggest hypocrite.

But, I digress.

Before we go into some specific plot-related things, I would like to mention that the Rebel has this weird dichotomy in which the production is sublime, and the post-production… not so much. The show very well shot. Every element of it sits perfectly together, not a single prop out of place, not a single extra underdressed, not a page of script not put to good use. It’s lit to perfection. It’s scored beautifully. So much of this show is just stunning.

And then… there is post-production.

This is not even about bad CGI (and the CGI is, indeed, bad), it’s just that most of post-production as a whole feels rushed.

Starting with surprisingly imperfect editing, which at times just fails to make the scene flow together. The final line of dialogue would be spoken within a scene, and it would fade to black instantly without a single breath to indicate a full stop. A montage sequence would be created, but every shot within it condensed to a second, making it feel incredibly fast-paced when the effect should be the opposite. There would be a cut away from a speaking character and to the same speaking character from a slightly different angle, making it dynamic without any reason to do so. There are a couple of truly startling jump-cuts.

I did not speed this gif up. This is part of a romantic montage, edited like it’s a goddamn action sequence.

And of course dear old friend slowing down footage shot at 24FPS. Please don’t do this. You think no one notices - but we do.

There are other tell-tale signs of production rushing to the finish line: occasional, but very noticeable ADR glitches, very sloppy job done at sound mixing, which contribute to parts of the show feeling ever so slightly off.

It’s not unforgivable, but it does make me wish the same amount of care and efforts that went into shooting this drama would also go into it after it was all in the can.

Oh, and just because if you know me you know I have a professional fixation on fights, and I am happy to say most action scenes are toe-curlingly delightful. Hot damn those fights are good. I am absolutely in love with the shot below, for example. Placing an actor behind a piece of set so he can exchange places with the stunt double during a one shot is such an old trick, but the execution, timing and camerawork are just... flawless. This is what perfection looks like.

Now we got all that out of the way...

SPOILERS FOR THE SERIES FINALE BELOW

Here’s the thing. I wanted to love the ending and I found that I could not.

The final mission was presented as important, and honestly the scene in which Zhu Yizhen is sending the vital message out as Lin Nansheng holds his ground in hand to hand fight is incredibly dynamic. Party, this is due to the fight itself being incredibly well choreographed, yes, but it’s also where it sits within the narrative, how high the stakes are for everything surrounding it.

But then, the tension all but bleeds out. The Important Message is sent, the fight is won, and we are treated to ten minutes of a very slow car chase, problem of which is not even its speed as much as its placing within the story. As in, by this point both of those operatives have lost their cover, and completed their Very Important Mission. It would be very sad if they died, but their survival does not technically contribute to their cause. Moreover, Zhu Yizhen getting mortally injured in order to protect Lin Nansheng as part of her mission read a little empty when the mission is technically over.

While I personally found Lin Nansheng slow recuperation and his low key ending enjoyable, I think I would have preferred to have seen a more tangible pay-off to all the sacrifices made in the name of “bright communist future”, just a little more justification for every moment of death and despair we witnessed. I would have certainly at the very least preferred to see Wang Shi’an’s death on screen. Considering how many likeable characters martyred themselves on screen, denying us the death of the one antagonist just seemed cruel.

I really did love the ambiguity of the final few scenes however, if we consider the children choir at the end a fantasy. The idea that Lin Nansheng will live out his life in this hope that Zhu Yizhen is still alive, imagining her just outside of his field of vision, his only joy being in this fantasy of her… now, that is incredibly strong. I equally like the idea of rest being promised to him at the end of his journey, and said rest being painful, and slow and unwelcome.

But it felt like as they chose not to to lean into the “sweet” part of the bitter-sweet tone of the ending and we’re unable not commit to the “bitter” part either, so it lands with a splat which is somewhat lacklustre.

---

This concludes my thoughts on the Rebel.

I am more or less out of Zhu Yilong’s filmography to watch, which is probably a good thing at this point. I have just emerged out of several back to back work projects - literally today - and will hopefully once more have time for things I grew to enjoy doing during the lockdown.

Those things, if you have not guessed, include watching Chinese television and writing things about Chinese television.

#the rebel #叛逆者 #Zhu Yilong #review of sorts #now with gifs #chinese drama

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perpetuelledaydreaming · 4 years

Text

Illicit affairs - Chapter 4

summary: tony can’t catch a break with his daughter, y/n receives an unexpected call and then goes for a little day trip to coney island and for peter somethings sus.

Listen to: Girls like Girls - Hayley Kiyoko & Ta reine - Angèle

word count: 13.9k (longest chapter yet)

(author’s note at the end now)

series masterlist

If you were honest with yourself, you knew that what you had done at the club days prior wasn’t exactly the kind of behavior that Tony or Steve approved of; honestly none of the Avengers. So, the next day when you woke-up to your dad incessantly knocking on your door, you were aware it wasn’t a good thing. Tony’s face twisted as he watched your body covered in bruises and your tired eyes when you opened the door, with the complete knowledge that he had seen the news and that the news had not been so good with you.

You hadn’t obviously catch anyone, so that presented a problem from a PR point of view because at least that way you could twist the news and tell them that barely destroying an entire building had a good reason. But since it was supposed to be a secret mission it was so much harder to justify to the public. Moreover, some of the news outlets linked the fact that there was a possible connection to the Maggia family, which completely blew out the cover you had and the element of surprise. The Avengers had to release a statement explaining it had been part of aid to the NYPD on a drug raid, which still affected the Maggia family but not that much. Nonetheless, The Daily Bugle had been implacable with you, you had even had to send a cease-and-desist to make J. Jonah Jameson stop the defamation against you since he had published that you were a threat to society.

You figured you had a good rant coming your way, you were aware that you deserved it but you also knew you didn’t have many other choices to get the information you had now gotten or to escape after getting the information. It seemed only logical considering that you had been caught by one of the most dangerous men in the Maggia family / Kingpin circle but none of the Avengers saw it the same way. Harley and Wanda were the only ones that hadn’t been scolding you or giving you the disappointing looks that you received from the older Avengers, and you appreciated that from them immensely. Peter had also tried to be by your side as much as he could, every day since the undercover mission disaster after he got out of class, he would head to Stark Industries and share a chat and coffee before you both got to work or before he had to leave for studying or to see Gwen.

You were always beyond thankful for it, they were the only ones (with Pepper) who managed to make you forget that Tony hadn’t addressed the whole thing since you had opened that door the day after, which upset you even more that he wasn’t even trying to make the effort of listening to you. You preferred Pepper’s approach to the whole thing, considering she was basically your mother: Pepper said what she thought and she wasn’t afraid, she was direct and after telling you what was on her mind, she would still listen. She had told you off and you knew that every piece of a word that came out of her mouth was the truth: “You could’ve killed more people” “You could’ve gotten Peter’s identity revealed” “You could’ve been kidnapped” “You could’ve died” “Can you imagine if Kingpin was there?” “Is this really how we raised you?” “I know Morgan’s only one and a half but can you think of the example you are giving to your little sister?” But after it, she had taken the time on hearing your reasons and what you had discovered. She knew how serious it was and how upset you were, so she ended up telling her assistant to cancel all the dates and decided to spend the rest of the day with you and Morgan watching old Disney movies to make you feel better as you ate popcorn and laughed when Morgan bopped her head to the music.

Nonetheless, the only thing Peter and you had left out of the whole thing was that Black Cat had been somehow involved in it. Instead, you had decided to fabricate a story that you got a lead from your deep research and was simply trying to know more information, finally intimidating one of The Architects minions into telling you everything. Peter hadn’t been so sure about why you wanted to keep Felicia a secret since she had agreed to help you but you had begged him to stay silent, telling him that they wouldn’t trust the information given at first. You had to be sure that they would be ready to fight Kingpin before revealing Felicia’s secret and that she was counting on you.

Peter still was apprehensive about the whole thing, but the way your eyes had turned into puppy eyes when you pleaded him not to tell anything, he was bought. You were thankful that he was sticking with you and especially in the meeting that The Avengers had decided to do a few days after the whole thing, on the early morning in Stark Tower.

“He’s coming for us and he’s not going to stop!” you stated again, glaring at Nick Fury who had been insensately criticizing your behavior.

“Oh, and did you get all this information in that little unauthorized raid you did?” Tony asked curiously as he placed his hand on his clenched jaw. It wasn’t as if he was completely upset, he seemed emotionally exhausted to you with the pinch of annoyance in his voice.

“We were following a lead”, Peter stated as he intervened for you, which you felt extremely grateful for.

“And if it’s serious then we can all be in danger,” you continued as you gave him a thankful gaze. “He’s messing with alien tech and we all know how dangerous that can be”

Steve and Nat gazed at each other while Bruce shuddered at the memories of the Battle of New York, knowing it wasn’t one of his best memories. Tony looked down as if he was trying to avoid the fact that you were right along with the other’s present who’s silence meant, at least for you, that they knew what you were talking about and how serious this could become. But Fury didn’t back down as he glared at you with his only eye.

“Kingpin is not going to do anything unless we keep bothering him”, Fury stated, as he quickly removed the photos projected on the screen of the attack and Kingpin.

It was done for him, he had simply removed the photos and files from the screen, he had stated that the deal was done and it seemed like he would completely ignore your pleas. You turn to Peter, who was giving you the exact despondent expression that was drawn on your face, disbelief was dripping from your eyes as you realized the fact that no matter what you said, there was nothing you could do.

The pangs of annoyance began to grow on your body as you frown while watching Fury play with the screen and get out the other files that needed to be discussed, completely turning the page.

“But Dad-” you started but soon Steve cut you off.

“Look, y/n we are going today to Europe and although this mission doesn’t last a long time, we have to focus on it,” Steve said sternly as he gazed back at you. “More people need us there”

“Hammer’s protected and so is Oscorp, Black Cat hasn’t shown up anymore,” Nat said as if to calm you down, not knowing that Felicia’s safety now laid on your hands.

“Because they are going to be manipulated by Frisk!”, you replied urgently, it almost sounded like a cry.

But Fury cut you off before you could get a word out, which only made your annoyance grow as you glowered at them.

“No more Kingpin Drama, Stark”, Fury intervened for one last time.

“It’s an order soldier”, Steve spoke as he crossed his arms across his chest.

But you weren’t done, if the people who were in charge and had become your family wouldn’t listen to you, you would use your dad. You knew how touched Tony felt about weapons being traded, you knew that he understood the importance of stopping Kingpin because these guns and drugs could affect everyone in the world, not just New York. Although Tony had decided to avoid the topic completely, you knew that if you could at least touch a string on Tony’s conscience you could at least change a bit the outcome of this.

“Dad, please” you pleaded as you watched Tony intently. “You know that we have to stop Kingpin”

Tony sighed, folding his arms as he stood up from his seat. “Darling, we can’t right now”

“But Dad, he’s a threat-”

“I know,” Tony tried to assure you while he placed his arms on your shoulders and stroked your arms as if to comfort you. “But not right now”

You were sure that if you had felt stronger that day if you hadn’t been so mentally exhausted regarding what had happened and how it had been portrayed to the world if you had felt a little bit more support or understanding on why you went to the club that night; then you were sure that the disappointment trickling onto your already anxious mind, wouldn’t have been so obvious.

“I can’t believe you just put me in this position and hope for me to do nothing” you snapped at your father while you glared at Steve and Fury, quickly shaking off Tony’s arms and storming out of the conference room.

In the room, everyone remained silent, even Fury who had been a little bit stunned by the anger that had been dripping from your eyes before you left. Tony gave a loud sigh as he slumped back into his seat while rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hand, while Nat patted him on the shoulder slightly as if trying to calm him down about the whole thing. Every one of the Avengers seated around the table seemed a little bit surprised by the whole deal staring at each other but quickly paying attention as Fury started to discuss the mission that the majority of them were going to and how the others would help from here.

Except for Peter.

Peter was livid because he knew that you were right and the threat that Kingpin posed to you, to all of you and the people that they had sworn to protect. You hadn’t noticed it at the club that day but before you had flown out of the club, Peter had his spidey senses going off, already warning him that Kingpin had arrived. He wasn’t sure how to describe it, except a feeling of dread on his whole body. He hadn’t been scared of many things but the danger that Kingpin posed just by being near, was enough for sending shivers down Peter’s spine, causing Peter’s whole body to ache.

And now, for them (especially Fury) to simply dismiss both of you like that? Especially you who had been pouring all your time and energy into making this mission work, even overcoming your feelings towards Peter on this. If this had been before, Peter might have thought that you would leave it like that, that you wouldn’t do anything to go against what your commander had said. But as he glared at everyone intently, he knew you were probably already thinking in a way you could work this out and he knew that at the moment, he only wanted to be with you.

Peter gazed at your dad quickly, Tony looking back at him with an already knowing look.

“Go” Tony muttered as he slumped more on his chair.

Peter nodded as he went after you but before he could exit the conference room, he heard Fury clearing his throat. Peter rolled his eyes before he turned to see what else did he had to say.

“Parker, nothing more about this, clear?”

Peter remained silent, for a second, knowing that there was no way you or he would back out of this.

“Yes, sir” Peter lied with a nod as he turned around and chased after you.

Peter ran through the floor, passing employees quickly already knowing where to go to find you. Most of the people would think that after a bad discussion or a hard day, they would go to their room and lay in their beds or watch Netflix in the meanwhile. But when you were upset, you would stress invent. Usually diving even more into the work that you already had, trying to improve your suit or even Peter’s or your dad’s, anything could work to keep your mind off what was bothering you. It wasn’t a good coping mechanism, sometimes it would include nights without sleep, messing up your schedule and making you sleep all through the day, barely consuming any food, or interacting with more people. Therefore, Peter had developed his mechanism for when you were upset: hold you. He would usually look down when he got closer to you, his hand would slither behind your back or on your thigh, holding it tightly as you gazed back at him with a thankful look on your eyes.

Peter heard you immediately as the doors of the elevator opened into the lab floor, he passed his lab and walked to yours in a hurry. The glass around your lab had been misted over, so no one could see you there which was usual for you but he knew that it was darker than usual. The panel near the door beeped red but Peter didn’t care as he heard HAPPY telling him that you had asked him to deny guests into your lab at the time; instead, Peter simply quickly tapped the password that he knew by heart as the doors unlatched.

“Hey”

You absent-mindedly raised your head from your suit, quickly taking off the goggles that you were wearing and placing down the small tool you had in your hand. Peter couldn’t help to shudder at the memories that came flashing before him as he watched you tinkering away with a piece of a toolkit that was thrown open on the floor as different holograms surrounded you.

You had been tinkering on your suit and bopping your head to the music whilst Peter had placed soft kisses on your cheek as he served you more wine that you had stole earlier that night. You had giggled and stopped working for a second as you felt tingles from Peter’s butterfly kisses, Peter knew he had drunk a bit more than what he usually did and that was why he was being so forward. Then the clinking sounds of metal tools falling into the floor along with breathy moans were the only thing being heard.

“Hey”, you responded quietly as you watched Peter slowly.

Peter gave an apprehensive step but as he noticed your tired eyes, he knew that you weren’t even thinking that he had dismissed the order you had gave to HAPPY about letting people inside of your lab. So, he quickly walked towards you as your eyes were still glued to him, Peter shot a web towards a chair close by and he brought it towards himself, he sat down next to you as his eyes linked with yours slowly.

“Did I fuck this up?”

Your voice seemed so small that Peter almost felt like crying, your eyes seemed a bit tired and he could tell that you had spilled some tears before he arrived. This was completely true, you had tried your best to keep it together as you exited the conference room and walked through the hallways full of employees but you had broken down as soon as you reached the floor.

It wasn’t so much that you felt hurt about the whole deal and Fury, but it was more the frustration that you felt.

“You didn’t” Peter stated angrily, as he placed a hand over yours. “Fury never saw this coming and he’s not prepared to handle this, they are too busy with the Hydra nests and they can’t spare more avengers”

You sighed tiredly. “He is so stupid; he doesn’t see that Kingpin is probably the one giving these people their guns”

“I know” Peter stated as he listened to you quietly.

“And he’s just letting him get away!” you declared angrily, without noticing how you were starting to interlace your hand with Peter’s.

“I know” Peter stated once more as he watched how tightly you were holding him now.

“And so is my dad!” you snapped, letting some tools fall from the desk as you shook your head. “He stopped building arms for a reason and he’s now just letting Kingpin trade them as if it’s nothing?” you asked frustrated although Peter knew you didn’t want an answer. “We should’ve gone after him from day one and not Felicia, we could’ve-”

“y/n, we couldn’t have done much” Peter interrupted you as he gazed at you, somehow coyly as he admired you and listened to you carefully but you didn’t notice since you were still going off.

“Now, Felicia’s at risk and I said to her that we could help her” you sighed frustratedly, and before Peter could protest you cut him off. “I know she’s the one that said she could help us but she needs us to stop Kingpin or she might get killed. I feel like we are just leaving her behind”

You weren’t really sure why the guilt, of what seemed to be (at least from an outer point of view learned by the spying techniques that Natasha had taught you) collateral damaged from the mission, eat you up so badly. Felicia had left you at the club with nothing more but a “be careful”, but you still felt deeply sorry that you wouldn’t keep up your promise. You thought that it was simply basic human decency what you were experiencing, but in the back of your mind, you were aware that it went so much deeper than that. Felicia had triggered something inside of you and you didn’t know how to make it stop.

“I know, I feel bad for her too” Peter whispered as he stared back at you while you looked away for a second, your mind going miles per hour as thought about your next step: would you leave it like that? No, you knew that you couldn’t.

“You know I can’t leave it like this, right?” you asked Peter silently, staring back at his chocolate eyes with golden specks.

If this had been before you had left, you would’ve probably stood down and simply do as it was told. But you had seen so much destruction thanks to these weapons in Europe, you had seen first-hand what this could do to people and you realized who you were and this version of you knew that you wouldn’t leave it at that. You knew you were asking for too much at the moment, you knew that what would come next would be dangerous for both of you but you also knew that there wasn’t any other way for you.

Peter nodded but he decided to still warn you. “Fury’s not going to like it”

“I know what Fury said Peter, but you as well as I know that Kingpin isn’t going to stop” you explained quickly as your gaze burned him. “If he keeps selling these weapons and we are not there to protect the people, then what the hell are we doing here?”

Peter remained silent, knowing that you were right. It was a big thing, going against what was seemingly the right thing to do. You both knew it was going to be a bold move, you both knew the risks that it entailed and you knew that if you weren’t going to be more careful about everything then it could end badly, not just for you but for everyone. But Peter knew you weren’t backing out of this and there was no way in his mind that he would leave you alone in this, without protection.

“He’s trying to kill us so he can grow his empire, even more, you are aware of that?” Peter reason, still trying to give you all the points that he believed were important to discuss.

You nodded. “Peter he is not afraid, which makes it a bigger threat, I have to stop him” you replied as you watched Peter’s lowered eyebrows as he frowned, you knew he was thinking all the scenarios on his head before he finally agreed to anything.

“I hate going behind your father’s back” Peter finally said with a sigh as he leaned a bit back in his chair.

You felt like you could breathe now that he had agreed with you, you weren’t alone anymore.

“I know you do” you cooed as you leaned into him with a smirk.

Peter groaned as he simply gazed at you with his lips tugging into a smile as he watched watching him coyly, he could see it on your y/e/c eyes, that spark that he hadn’t seen in a long time: bliss happiness that Peter was with you on this.

“You know you want to do this with me”, you said playfully as you nudge him on the shoulder, getting closer.

“I wouldn’t do it for anyone else” he answered honestly with a genuine smile as he pulled your hand, which you were still holding tightly, and placed a light kiss on it.

You felt the slight warmth on your cheeks as you noticed how tight was your hold on him, not that it bothered either one of you.

Peter got a bit closer to you, he felt his heart fluttering on his chest while he watched you intently. He took a strand of hair you had on your forehead and pulled it to the back of your ear, his hand still lingering on your cheek as he heard your heart thumping on your chest faster as each second passed but he tried to not look as if he heard it. Peter instead focused on your features, he didn’t know how you managed to do it, to shine so brightly for him without even making an effort, he could feel the warmth on your smile as your gaze followed his as he tried to scan your face.

He hadn’t managed to be so close to you since that last night before you left and he wanted to engrave your face in his memory again, he wanted to upgrade it. He noticed you had a new small scar from your time in Europe, just below your right eyebrow, he noticed how your cheekbones had become more prominent as he fought the urge to kiss your cheek again, he noticed how good you looked with the undertones of purple under your eyes, he was surprised because he hadn’t paid them much attention before but he realized how good they look on you.

Then his eyes fluttered to your lips for a second.

You felt like you had stopped breathing when Peter’s chocolate eyes traveled for a second to your lips, you felt so stupid when you had automatically leaned it a bit after his eyes had returned to yours, those goddamn chocolate eyes with golden specks that combined so well with the chocolate curls that fell on his forehead and the freckles sprawled on his face.

Peter was about to say something, his mouth opening slightly when you heard your door opening and the two of you whipped your head towards the door as you backed away from Peter almost instantly, causing Peter to tumble on his chair, barely falling from it as Harley sneak his head into your lab, noticing the two of you before smirking.

“Everything okay around here?” Harley said with a knowing grin as he looked at the two of you.

Peter rolled his eyes at Harley’s presence while you glared at him, he knew exactly what he was doing. But before Harley could say another word, Peter simply shot a web to the door a slammed it shot, barely closing it on Harley’s fingers who was snickering as he realized what Peter would do.

“Keep it close, HAPPY” you said to your AI as you turned around towards Peter again who was blushing as he cleared his throat while standing up from the chair.

“I need to go to class but I can come by tonight, oh n-” Peter stumbled through his words while you were still watching him carefully from your place.

“What?”

Peter groaned as he took out his phone. “Ned’s visiting”

“Really?” you gushed.

It had been a long time since you had seen any of Peter’s friends, no one since that night at Flash’s parties and you would be lying if you said that you didn’t miss them. Of course, that you were extremely close, you had tried to catch up with them after you had left, random text messages each time you could send one but nothing more than that. So, when Peter mentioned the possibility of seeing them again, it caused you to instantly smile.

“Yeah, he’s here for the weekend so we were planning on doing something with MJ” Peter answered with a smile as he saw how you beamed.

“Well, why don’t you come here?” you suggested with a smile.

“Are you sure? I mean, we can reschedule or I could come later” Peter stuttered as he watched you nervously.

You didn’t have to be a genius to know it was because Peter was planning on spending that time with Gwen too. You felt a pang of jealousy growing on your chest but you quickly shook it off, reminding yourself that you had decided to be beyond that because of Peter’s apologies, that even if he had said it while you were on a rush, Peter had been truthful about everything and simply because you wouldn’t hate on a girl for being chosen over you.

“You know we left things as friends so I have no problem if Gwen comes” you finally muttered shyly as Peter’s eyes widened in surprise.

Peter swallowed hard, he was glad that you didn’t have a problem with Gwen and that you were being so mature as actually inviting her to your own home. But the thing was that Gwen would probably have a problem with him hanging out with you, again.

Especially since it wasn’t Spiderman related.

“Oh, okay…” was Peter’s only answer as you stood up from where your suit was towards your desk.

“Yeah, come and then we’ll stay up later researching more stuff” you suggested as Peter walked behind you completely stunned by your offer.

But he simply couldn’t and wouldn’t say no.

“Yeah, thank you” he stammered as he watched you while you sat on your desk, already typing furiously on it. Around eight?”

“Sounds right”

“I’ll text you” he replied before the doors of the lab opened.

“And I’ll answer!” you promised before you heard the doors closing and you smiled at the thought of what had happened.

As soon as Peter got out, you got to work. You decided to review the footage of what you had captured on the club, the only bad thing that you realized is that none of the guys at the club weren’t wearing alien technology. You hadn’t detected any actual surge of the energy type that these weapons would usually have, which was disappointing but you decided to analyze and go over the other pieces of information you had while periodically you started mending your suit.

You guessed since there wasn’t any solid plan to stop Frisk right now, you would start with the basics which some of them you already had. If you wanted to push the rest of the Avengers into this or even start any strong case against Kingpin, you had to collect all the information you possibly could need from the trading of the weapons he already had to the possible negotiations he was doing with Hammer or Oscorp. You spent hours hacking all the security systems of Frisk’s legitimate companies to check if they had any important transaction at the moment, after spending only minutes on Hammer’s information and noticing that a big payment had been made.

It was infuriating how stupid he had been, he didn’t even care to hide his trace.

Then, you decided to spend time working on the possible places where the alien technology, weapons, and drugs were being exchanged or store, knowing that New York was the center of operations, there had to be somewhere where they were hiding this. This type of thing had an incredible surge of energy and it was probably really kept-well-hidden for it not to explode or cause anything slightly suspicious. But there wasn’t more, there were a couple of warehouses that you had pinpoint and needed to take a look at but you were suddenly interrupted.

Your phone rang a couple of times, you didn’t think much about it as you turned it around.

It was a private number.

“Who’s this?”

“I’m so sad that you don’t remember me” Felicia’s silvery voice sent shivers down your spine.

Felicia had been MIA since the disaster at the club, her last words being “be careful” had indeed upset you seeing that she was the one that had brought you to the club. But as 24 hours had passed, you started to feel somehow concerned for her, you had even hacked the number and revealed the real one from where she had sent you the instructions, but you soon realized it must’ve been a burner phone since there wasn’t any real answer. After that, you tried to push it into the back of your mind, focusing on your father ignoring you and the Avengers scolding you but still, there was still lingering anxiety regarding Felicia’s state.

“Felicia?”

“Come hang out with me,” she cooed, you felt as if you could hear the coy smile that was so characteristic of her. “I know you aren’t going to college yet and it’s so boring to stay in that cold tower all day long”

You weren’t exactly sure when your mouth had decided to talk before your brain had even time to process the proposal that Felicia was suggesting, but you were already nodding.

“Where should we meet?” you asked, no hesitation in your voice.

“I’m down here at Stark Industries lobby”

You felt a shiver of panic running through your body, you weren’t sure why she had gotten so close to a place she could be recognized by someone, although her characteristic eyes were well hidden behind the mask and she was in no database, you still felt like her hair was really noticeable. You felt afraid that if she was capture by any security camera or eyed by a security guard (who had been on high alert thanks to Happy’s precautions), she might get in trouble.

But Felicia detected the panic in your silence right away and she had it covered.

“Don’t worry, I’m not dressed as Black Cat and I covered my hair” she stated with a smirk, you rolled your eyes at her comment with a smile plastered on your face. After a beat of silence, where you could only hear the people that were walking near her in the lobby and she could only listen to the French music that had been lowered down as you received the call, she spoke. “So, are you coming?”

You felt your heart thumping on your chest because you knew this was probably the last thing you should be doing at the moment, but you still felt compelled to tell Felicia that you would follow her and you didn’t care where. You just needed a good cover before you could leave.

“I’ll be right down, give me ten.” You stated before quickly hanging up.

You stood from your chair as you tried to look at yourself on the camera of your phone, checking if you were actually decent since you realized you had been hours on your lab without really fixing yourself after the meeting. You cursed realizing that you had to at least put on some mascara and blush before you went to meet with her but you cursed as you realized that you still had to sneak out.

“HAPPY” you stated as you began to create a code for a new folder with all the files regarding Kingpin. “Place all of the files on this folder, this is restricted information for anyone but Peter and me, got it?”

“Yes, Miss Stark” the AI answered as all of the holograms began to disappeared from the room.

You then ran towards your suit, which was still a bit damaged by the last encounter but would still work if needed. You placed a hand over it and then tapped the charm on your necklace, soon all the nanobots began to travel from your hand to your arm and towards your chest where they would be stored, the arc reactor shining for a second after it was done.

“HAPPY, where’s my dad?” you asked the AI as you grabbed your phone and began to open the door slightly.

“He’s on his lab Miss Stark, he is busy”

You nodded quietly as you turned your gaze to Tony’s lab, hearing Aerosmith blasting on the speakers as he seemed to be working freely on his suit, goggles on, and everything. Although your dad had taken a few years of rest, as he watched Morgan grow up and spent more time with her, he still couldn’t stop making suits or working on different things. Thankfully he seemed way too focus, on whatever he was doing to his suit at the moment that he didn’t see how you quietly ran to Harley’s lab, sneaking in before Tony finished with one piece of his suit, you rapidly close the doors as Harley, who seemed to be working on a repulsors device that Tony had been interesting on researching in depth because of its energy.

Harley quickly stopped as he realized that you were there, he turned around expectantly.

“Can you cover for me?” you quickly asked him as you leaned against the door, praying that Tony didn’t see you.

Harley smirked. “Who are you going to see? Spiderling already left and it’s studying”

You widened your eyes as you tried to brush off the question. “Oh, no one”

“You know you can tell me” Harley continued as he leaned more on his chair as he watched you fidgeting with your phone.

You knew that Harley knew something, that shit-eating grin that was drawn on his face wasn’t something out of the blue. Although you didn’t care to admit it, Harley also knew you very well after years of spending time together, he knew how to generally read someone extremely well and nothing that he did was a casualty, he was very calculating and he knew how people could react.

“I’m going out with a friend” you whispered, trying to sound as uninterested as you possibly could but you catch the mischievous gleam on Harley’s eyes.

“Friend as in girlfriend or boyfriend?” He asked as he wiggled his eyebrows coquettishly.

You shot him an annoyed look right away. “Does it matter to you?”

“No” he shrugged indifferently.

“Good” you stated as you cleared your throat, hoping that he wouldn’t notice how warm your cheeks had become or how you had been fidgeting a bit. “Thanks, asshole”

You quickly exited the lab floor; relief washed over you as you managed to sneak out without Tony noticing you and rushed to your room. You quickly picked up a bag and tried to put on a little bit of make-up, at least anything so you could look better than what you were looking for before. Thankfully, Pepper wasn’t at the apartment at the moment and Morgan was up in her room with a nanny. You didn’t run into anyone on your way down to the lobby, quickly running through it, your eyes scanning the crowded room of people (since Tony had decided it was a public space as well) to find Felicia.

It didn’t take long for you to spot her near one of the main entrances.

Her outfit was a far cry from the clothes that she had worn in your previous encounters. She was wearing an oversize high-waisted jean with chunky tennis, along with a nice black sports bra that fitted her nicely but was covered with an oversize black hoodie and a beanie, hiding the great majority of her silver hair except for a few strands that framed her face. Her greyish-purple eyes gleamed as she saw you walking towards her with a malicious smile.

“That was fast” she teased as her eyes seemed linked with yours, but you looked away nervously.

“Nice outfit” you blurted out, ashamed by the random comment.

Felicia gazed down at yours, scanning your body. You were wearing an oversize dark blue sweater over a white blouse, the collar popping out from the sweater, accompanied by a white short tennis skirt and some tennis that you had clean up recently. You knew you looked okay, it was a cute outfit but you felt like maybe it was too pristine for her taste.

“Yours too”, she said with a knowing smirk, although it was completely obvious that your outfits were completely different, then she saw you putting on a dark blue mask over your face. “What’s that for?”

You stopped as you look around, already noticing some people staring at you a little bit more than usual. It was a normal thing, for you to get attentive looks when you walked on the streets, therefore you had gotten used to hiding your face if you were going out. It was a common thing you did when you hanged out with Peter and his friends in public places if there were too many people close by, it had become even a normal habit when you were in your mission.

“You don’t want people recognizing us, right?” you asked before quickly placing the mask on your face and taking her hand to exit the lobby, to lose some of the people who had been staring at both of you before they got their phones out.

She smirked as she followed your path on the street. “You have it all figured out, don’t you?”

“Actually, I don’t because I have no idea why you called me” you turned on your heels watching her intently, you didn’t want her to notice that you felt a bit upset that she had left you behind the other night.

Felicia stayed silent for a few seconds; a bit stunned by how forward your comment was.

“Well,”, she cleared her throat. “Since we are going to be working together, I figured we could get to know each other, and… what better way than to hang out” she purred as a hand caressed your arm with twinkly eyes, without addressing what had happened days prior.

You felt goosebumps appearing on your skin, your breathing becoming not all together light as you watched her intently. You knew that probably if Tony or Peter or Steve or honestly, any of the other Avengers saw you doing what you were doing, talking with Black Cat -an enemy- in such a manner, you would’ve probably gotten your suit taken away.

But no one was watching you, no one was judging you and you felt like you could be you, this was your choice.

“Where are we going?”

Felicia didn’t answer right away, instead, she decided to grab your hand and make you run beside her to the nearest metro station, she paid for your ride and you got into the train that she had ordered you to get in, running before the doors close on you. She told you that it was going to be a surprise, you weren’t sure if your heart raced in excitement or suspicion, which even grew when you ended up taking more than one train.

But it was nothing that you expected it.

You had visited Coney Island a couple of times before, mainly with Tony and Pepper and another time with Peter and his friends. It was a place with fun memories but that seemed so far away that you hadn’t thought about it in a long time. The fast times, the bright lights, the arcade rings, the laughs; it seemed so distant as you walked through the place.

“You don’t seem like the kind of person who likes Coney Island” you commented as you glanced at Felicia who was walking next to you.

She shrugged. “I don’t like it in the summer, but in autumn there aren’t many people, which is the only way I can come”

“I get you” you nodded with a smile as you continue to see what games had been added or what you could do, not that you saw it but she smiled too.

Without any warning, Felicia took a hold of your hand and began to drag you through the whole place as the salty air hit your face, mixed with the giggles and laughs from both of you while you enjoyed the day.

If you could describe Felicia in one word, the only thing that came to mind was fearless. Felicia was herself and she wasn’t afraid to be herself, which was something that you wished to be for the longest time. During the day you observed her quietly, noticing little details about her and you felt somehow the similar warmth you had felt with Peter and them. You realized that Felicia laughed loudly, it wasn’t a common thing but when she laughed, she really laughed.

She was also very blunt, she said whatever was on her mind, and sometimes, she didn’t even have a filter; like when one guy had been trying to flirt repeatedly after she had already said she was not interested, as you both bought ice cream to eat in front of the beach. She had finally decided to sing along to the tune of “short dick man”, repeatedly, until the guy had gone away. You had laughed for about five minutes afterward. She had dark humor, which you enjoyed since when you usually made the type of jokes, Pepper or Tony got concerned -given that they were somehow still protective over you-. She was loud, she was angry, she wasn’t shy or embarrassed, she said what was on her mind, she was unapologetically herself and you loved every single moment.

She seemed to be the opposite of whatever you were supposed to be, how you had been raised. You were supposed to be quiet; you were supposed to follow the rules, you were supposed to do whatever people told you, you were supposed to help people and be a good hero, a good girl.

And Felicia wasn’t, but you loved it.

The afternoon continued perfectly, you walked through the boardwalk as you ate your ice cream while she told you stories, although you had to wait until you were far away enough from people to actually start eating your ice cream; you even share a bit with Felicia since she had already eaten hers. You had also managed to play in the different games of the arcade, both of you knowing you would ask for the biggest price as your aim was perfect, both winning the biggest and fluffiest toys that you had seen, but you quickly gave it to a few kids that were in awe as they saw you walking with them. You had managed to sneak into a circus sideshow which had a contortionist, a man who swallowed swords, and a fire eater, you had squirmed on your seat for the contortionist; even more when Felicia had whispered in your ear that she could probably do the same thing. Then, you spent some of the last hours of the afternoon watching carefully the collection of free-standing murals, even taking a few pictures in front of the graffiti of mermaids, amusement park rides, and more.

But although it all had been fun and laughs for a while, when the sun was setting down Felicia and you managed to seat in one of the benches farther away from the rest of the people. You weren’t really sure what compelled her to tell you everything that she had told you, or what had compelled you to ask if she had anyone else in her life, but you immediately felt your heart clenching on your chest as she told you really about her. Felicia’s mom was a no-show, she didn’t even remember her and had been raised only by her father who had died a couple of years ago of bad stomach cancer, which had been painful to watch. He had been the one who had taught her everything, he was the one that had encouraged her to never settle for second best and always succeed in whatever she wanted.

After her father’s death, she had enrolled in NYU which had ended up being one of the worst ideas of her life. She had been assaulted by someone that was supposed to be her friend, but she hated her idea of becoming a victim, something that she didn’t think of herself as, she never wanted to see herself like that; she had managed to get her revenge at the end but after that, she decided to drop out and continue on the path that she was now in. So, after that she hadn’t found anyone, she had acquaintances and she would go out from time to time with people from the different jobs she had, but no one really close. The only one who knew her secret identity had been the bartender that you had seen at the club, who had been a friend of her late father, who had promised her father that he would take care of her.

But regardless, it seemed like she was alone.

You knew that alone wasn’t the same as lonely, and although Felicia never said that she was, you couldn’t help to avoid that she was indeed feeling lonely. You knew being in the job, either as a hero or as a criminal was hard because not many people were in the same business. You had been lucky enough to grow in a family of superheroes and then you had been lucky enough to find Peter but Felicia, she didn’t have people. She liked that mostly she was known as Black Cat, you could tell by how her eyes glowed each time she told you about her times and adventures as this persona, but you weren’t sure why she didn’t feel the same as when she was just Felicia.

“I like that about you, Stark” she had finally sighed as she glanced at you slightly. “You are just you; you are y/n Stark. No secret identity, no hiding”

You shrugged. “Well, that’s not true,” you said pointing at the mask.

Felicia’s grin turned catlike. “Touché”

The air turned lighter than what it had been before as you heard the waves hitting the sand while the moon lightened up along with the bright lights of Coney Island. You glanced at Felicia and realized how the moon always seemed to fit perfectly with her, the way it brightened up her plump lips and for some reason, it made her eyes look more purple than before, while the silver hair combined perfectly with the light. It seemed as if she was transforming to Black Cat herself only with the light of it.

But you could still see some of the heaviness on her eyes, the conversation you had must’ve taken an emotional toll on her and you felt your stomach twisting as you thought about how she must’ve been thinking now about her father.

“Come,” you said standing up in the blink of an eye.

Felicia frowned with a smile. “What are you doing, Stark”

“Come Hardy” you repeated as you offered your hand.

You pulled her into the games once again, more people were arriving now with thicker sweaters and coats as the night turned a bit colder than before. You ran through the places and quickly stopped on the ice cream stand, now only taken one ice cream for Felicia, the one she had eaten with you, and immediately pulled her towards the bright Ferris Wheel. You quickly took your seat as you sat Felicia first and then place the ice cream on her hands and then you adjusted the seat for both of you.

As the wheel began to move, Felicia seemed a bit stunned by the whole ordeal but you could see a smile tugging on the corners of her lips.

“You look good when you smile,” you said quietly, your voice almost dropping down to a whisper as you reached the top of the Ferris Wheel and it stopped moving.

“Well, it was a good day”, she replied with a nudge to your shoulder, watching you playfully.

You glanced at her, her eyes beaming. “It was”

“And we haven’t even got to work”

You felt your shoulders tense up and you knew that your smile had vanished from your face as soon as Felicia had mentioned work. You had completely forgotten to tell her what had happened that very same day, you cursed yourself and how distracted you had been during the whole day. You stammered but Felicia had already caught up with how tense you were.

“What happened?” she asked seriously.

You took a sharp intake of breath, as your mind was grinding, thinking what was the best way to tell Felicia that there was no Avengers other than you and Peter coming to help you. That after telling you everything that she had told you that day, you would disappointment. You turned around quickly facing away as the urge to vomit grew in a second before you managed to calm down quickly.

“Look,” you said as you breathed heavily. “We were dismissed from the mission and now-”

“What? Why?” Felicia asked as she touched your shoulder hastily.

You could sense the urgency in her voice.

“Fury and the others don’t think that Kingpin is an immediate threat and they are going to a mission in Europe today. They don’t want to focus on this”

“He is! Did you tell him everything?” Felicia continued.

“I did!” you answered with the same urgency. “Fury doesn’t care, he doesn’t want to get involve and neither did my father. They don’t listen and I’m tired of it, I’m tired of being only good to follow orders and remain quiet. It’s like I have to prove myself all the time to them, especially dad” you sniffled and only then you realized you were on the verge of tears. “I’m so sorry, I know it’s not what I had in mind either but I can promise you that I will protect you, Peter and I will protect you from Kingpin”

Felicia stayed silent for a moment; you were sure that your eyes were burning holes on her face as you watched how her mind was working it out. You felt like you stop breathing as she figured out her next step, you knew that you would keep your promise but you were terrified it wouldn’t be good enough for Felicia to accept it and simply leave you. The thing was that you didn’t know why you were terrified, was it because she would keep working with Kingpin and the advantage you had for the mission would be gone? Or was it because you cared about the girl in front of you with greyish-purple eyes and silver hair who made your heart skip a beat when she gave you a cat-like smile that she had.

“I trust you,” was what she finally said as she gazed back at you with a slight frown. “If you tell me that you and Spidey can do this, then I’ll help you”

You took a deep breath of relief as you stared at her. “That means a lot”

She shrugged with a smile. “You are special, Stark”

You were a little taken aback by the words of Felicia. Through the dim lights at the top of the Ferris Wheel, you could see a bit of trepidation and heaviness in the forefront, but you also saw warmth in her gaze and something much more intense and much deeper. You would like to say that you recognized it, knowing that you were somehow reciprocating since you two had met. You felt your body burning in anticipation but before you could say anything, you felt your phone vibrating on your back.

You were taken aback by the name that lightened up the screen, along with a goofy photo of Peter from years ago.

“Hello?” you answered as Felicia looked away for a bit while you mouthed sorry.

“Hey, we just finished watching Star Wars and I think we are ready to go now, I’m sorry we are late. So, we are on our way, just giving you a heads up” Peter said contentedly as you heard MJ and Ned laughing in the back.

You involuntarily slap your face with your hand, groaning as Felicia jumped alarm by how hard you had slapped yourself. You had completely forgotten that Peter, MJ, Ned, and Gwen were coming to your home that night, you hadn’t even been checking the hour, completely silencing HAPPY for the day when you had arrived at Coney Island.

“Fuck, no” you groaned as you watched the time, it was over 8:00 pm and you knew you had messed up. Peter stayed silent at your comment for a second as if he was hoping that you had just said the wrong thing but you quickly continue. “Take all the time you need, I’ll be there in forty minutes, can you guys wait for me?”

“Oh, okay,” Peter said a little bit took aback but you didn’t give him time to say anything else as you hung up quickly.

“I have to go, I’m so sorry”, you muttered as you tried to signal the guy who was handling the Ferris Wheel to bring you down.

Felicia didn’t say anything but she just watched you quietly instead as you sighed relief once the Wheel began to go down again, you liked to imagine it was thanks to how you were screaming at the guy down there. You knew that if Peter arrived there before you did, that meant that he would probably simply take the elevator and run into your that, who knew you didn’t have many friends to hang out with and destroying the cover that you thought Harley would have for you.

Nonetheless, you also knew that wearing your suit to arrive early to the house could present a problem because if you were hanging out with someone you would probably bring them home as well and not simply be flying on your own. Plus, you didn’t want to give anything more to the media being that you weren’t their favorite person at the moment and that they could take even a small flight to criticize you.

It wasn’t until Felicia called your name that you snap out of your thoughts.

“Hey, Stark!” she called you and you spun so fast on your heels that you didn’t realize how close she was to you.

You froze as you felt her silky hands take off the mask that you had been wearing as she leaned in, you felt your breath caught when you felt the lightest touch of her hand on the back of your neck as she pulled you in. Your body was buzzing as her lips ghosted over yours, she pulled you in so close that you were now flush up against her, your eyes linked for a second and your eyes fluttered down to her lips, she decided to close the space.

Felicia’s lips tasted like cotton candy and ice cream.

You felt your whole body was crackling, sparkling with electricity and the burning need to feel closer to her. To have her touch. You weren’t going to lie that you were a bit stunned and it took you a minute to respond but her lips were plush and fervently pressing against yours causing you took a hold of her waist and pulled her even closer, another one of your hands traveling to cup her face while your lips continued to move at the same beat as hers.

You had been thinking about her lips long enough, how plump they were and how pretty they looked. But her lips against yours was a whole other thing. It was like you were breathing the other with the taste of the ice cream in both of your lips. Felicia hummed against your lips and you smiled into it, completely hypnotized by the movement of her soft lips and how you felt your skin burning where she was touching.

A whimper barely escaped your lips but Felicia had already pulled back, getting a good look at you. You opened your eyes and blinked in surprise as you watched Felicia’s plump lips form into a cat-like grin, but neither said anything as she watched you intently and quickly placed your mask on your face again.

“I’ll call you, Stark” she whispered before she let go of you and went her merry way.

You struggled to speak, to form any coherent word and so you let her go in silence. Somehow it felt overwhelming for you, every one of your senses had been locked into the moment and it felt as if everything around you had disappeared as you kissed her. You knew that you had been harboring some kind of feeling for Felicia and it seemed like you had lied yourself enough times to simply push that to the back of your head but as you had kissed her it felt like they had been poured out without any warning, and it seemed stronger than what you had anticipated.

You weren’t sure how you got home, all the way through you had only thought about Felicia’s lips over yours and what did it mean? She had been the one to initiate the kiss, was it a way to say thanks? Was it because she had the same feelings that you had? Was it because she just wanted to mess with you?

It was only when you reached Stark Tower that you snapped out of your thoughts thanks to Ned Leed’s voice.

“y/n!”, Ned gushed as he hugged you from behind without any warning.

Sometimes you weren’t really sure how Ned was always so full of happiness and energy all the time, you had guessed -as you had gotten to know him better- that he simply had a gift for it. He was the sweetest boy and the kindness that he had in his heart always set him apart from everyone else. There was a sparkle in him that resonated with you and you didn't find it weird, or awkward when you began to hang out with Ned without Peter or MJ when you first met. You could easily fall into a conversation with him and keep on going for hours, he had become a light in your life; Sometimes, when Peter had assured you that you were his sunlight, you weren’t really sure since you had guessed it was a term that fitted better with Ned.

“Oh!”, you said with a smile “Ned!”

Peter walked behind him as he talked with MJ, laughing at how Ned had raised you from the floor with his hug. Peter had been ecstatic about your invitation, Ned and MJ had been elated as well but Gwen hadn’t been that elated. Nonetheless, he knew how deeply you cared about his friends and how deeply they cared about you. You had easily become part of the group and Peter was more than happy about it.

“How are you!?” you replied as he let go of you and you placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve missed you so much!”

“MIT is great!” Ned said with this big smile as you giggled a bit. “I was hoping we could see at least one class together next semester! Do you think you will be over there, next semester? Can you make it work?”

You stammered as Ned gazed excitedly at you, you almost felt coaxed to agree with him, by how wide his smile was, knowing that it was a real possibility that you wouldn’t go back to MIT and keep studying in New York, at least in the foreseeable future but before any word escaped your mouth, MJ intervened.

“Ned, let her breath” MJ stated as she walked over to you with a light smile.

“MJ!” you gushed as you gave her a small hug, knowing that she wasn’t into being too touchy.

She hugged you back which you appreciated. “We’ve missed you here in New York.” She stated as she backed out.

“I know, I’ve missed you guys too” you answered sweetly as your eyes fell on Peter.

Sometimes you forgot how your heart would skip a beat when Peter looked at you like that. Peter Parker had a thing and that was when he smiled truly and honestly, his eyes would just wrinkle a bit and his face would just brighten up, it would look as if his freckles were beaming and would combine perfectly with the caramel curls that would often fall on his forehead. You knew that look so well, because it was a recurrent expression he would have around you but you hadn’t been paying attention since you had arrived, you didn’t know if it was because you had been so absent from your thoughts but it was the first time you were seeing it since you had arrived.

“Hey!” Peter said with a smile and you fought the urge of playing with his curls as he placed a small kiss on your cheek.

“Hey!” you answered rapidly, fighting the urge to get flush but then you remembered. “Um- where’s Gwen?”

Peter's eyes widened for a moment as he cleared his throat. “Oh,” he stammered. “She’s coming”

Peter didn’t know if she was coming.

They had been having coffee close by during the afternoon and talking about a physics exam but midway through it, Peter had told her about your invitation. He knew you had done it honestly as a good gesture, an invitation in order to mend whatever was left of your past friendship and he knew that part of it was also hanging out with his current girlfriend. But Gwen disagreed, she had growled that you were trying to win him back and that he was falling right into it, she felt offended just by the fact that you -or well, Peter- had suggested that she should come, knowing that you were once in love with him.

Deeply, Peter understood what Gwen was saying but he also tried to explain to her what was really happening and how important it was for him given that this didn’t involve just him, but his whole life as Spiderman. Gwen told him that she would think about it but he hadn’t heard back from her.

“Good, I’m glad!” you answered while you swallowed hard, biting your lip for a second as you tried to get back on your train of thoughts. Peter noticed how distracted you look. “Please, come in!”

You were glad that the lobby had already closed down by the time you had arrived so you could quickly take off your mask and breathe freely. Knowing that you still needed, given that you were still thinking about Felicia’s lips and now you were thinking about Peter’s eyes.

You entered the apartment quickly, as you tried to lay all of your things down first so you could be more attentive with your guests, given that you had spent the day with Felicia and not preparing for the hangout.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t have anything ready. I was out”

Peter frowned. “With who?” he asked suspiciously but at the same moment, Harley entered the living room with Morgan in his arms.

Harley’s curly dirty blonde hair was being tugged by Morgan’s tiny hands as she giggled loudly. “I didn’t know we were having guests tonight, then I would have gotten Morgan ready”

You smiled at them as you quickly took Morgan from Harley’s arms and the baby gushed. “y/n!” she was already getting so big and was smarter than you had expected, already speaking correctly and forming full sentences.

“Hi baby!” you cooed as you nuzzle your nose against her.

“I almost forgot you had a sister!” Ned said as he started to play with Morgan, reaching out to her as the baby quickly latched onto his fingers while he cooed at her.

“Who could forget someone so pretty?” Harley asked as he gazed directly at MJ, walking away from Morgan, Ned, and you, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Hey H,” MJ said with the same confidence that Harley had, as she beamed at him.

MJ and Harley had known each other since you had introduced them one night a couple of years prior at the compound when MJ was having a sleepover with you. Harley had been instantly enamored by the cool aura that MJ dripped and how little did she care for everything that a normal teenager was supposed to care. MJ, on the other hand, loved how smart Harley was, how he always seemed to say the right thing, and obviously, how interesting he was.

Nonetheless, neither had made a move.

“Harley, don’t flirt with my friends” you commented as you held Morgan tightly and shot Harley an annoyed glare.

Harley flushed a bit, the tip of his ears turning pink as he looked at you wide-eyed while MJ laughed at him with a large grin, the underlying tension between them already growing with your comment.

“Didn’t know we have people coming” Pepper appeared from the kitchen with Tony behind, her long hair tied in one of the ponytails she used to wear years prior.

Pepper began to say hi to your friends as Tony leaned on the couch of the large living room, watching you intently.

“Neither did I” Tony commented as he crossed his arms.

You felt your heart racing in your chest. “I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you”

“It’s okay dear” Pepper stated as she gave you a quick peck on your cheek as you said ‘hi’. “I’m just sad that we already ate dinner”

“Oh, don’t worry we are just maybe going to cook something or ordered it in”, you muttered as you kissed Morgan repeatedly on her cheek for a second as Ned made Morgan giggle uncontrollably.

“Where were you today?” Tony asked plainly at you as he raised his eyebrows.

You felt your blood cold as you turned around in panic while watching your father. Tony had a thing for catching people in lies and although you knew it was possible to lie at him, you also knew that if he saw the slightest twitch or inconsistency, he would be able to see right through you.

He was one of the smartest men on earth, for god’s sake.

“Uhm- Harley didn’t say?” you asked as you looked at Harley while raising your eyebrows.

Harley shot you an annoyed look, which you answered immediately with another one.

“He said you were out with a friend regarding the Halloween thing?” Tony said suspiciously, clearly questioning you and you felt the panic rushing through your veins.

“I was with MJ!” you quickly blurted out as your gaze then fell back on MJ.

MJ looked surprised for a second, stunned at your comment but she was quick, she realized that you needed a cover. You raised your eyebrows at her and nudge to say something, anything.

“Yeah, yeah!” MJ stammered as she placed one strand of hair on the back of her ear as she smiled at Tony. “y/n was helping me pick a costume”

Peter cocked his head and wrinkled his nose, knowing that there was no way that MJ was hanging out with you today, she had spent the last few hours with him and Ned. He knew that you were lying and he stared intently at you. You tried to not react at Peter’s gaze lock on you, knowing that you would have to explain later what you were doing, you only hope he gave you enough time to think about an excuse.

“Right…” Tony sassed as he walked towards you. “What costume did MJ pick?”

“Dad, stop”

“What? It’s not like you have many friends! I just want to know” Tony retorted with a shrug.

But you knew exactly what he was doing and you weren’t going to fail.

“Rude” you stated as you glared at your dad. “I have friends and if you really want to know, we went to a lingerie shop because we want to dress as the characters mean girls so if you don’t mind”

Tony’s face turned bright red as he heard you and was already covering his ears, singing a tune -loudly- by the time you finished.

You smirked.

“You were the one who wanted to know,” Pepper said with a shrug as she smiled at Tony who glared at her, you smiled with a shrug as you continue to play with Morgan and gave quickly a wink to MJ who nodded in agreement.

Peter frown at the interaction, knowing that whatever you were hiding seemed to be important.

“Yeah, yeah” he quickly answered as he stepped towards you and kissed you on the forehead, softly whispering. “I’m glad that you are okay, thank you for taking it okay”

You smiled at your dad and quickly hugged him with Morgan on your arm, who joined in the hug. Nonetheless, the pang of guilt invaded you because you knew it wasn’t the truth, you weren’t taking it okay and you were doing everything that you had been ordered not to do.

Soon after the whole thing, Tony took Morgan out of your arms and said goodnight with Pepper as they went to the other floor to sleep. It was already too late for Morgan and honestly, it was late for Tony and Pepper as well, you felt like you could breathe again when they left. Harley decided to go with you, much to Peter’s annoyance and to MJ’s delight. You then decided that you were going to cook some pasta with wine and then maybe watch a movie, the dinner was nice as Peter and you handled the pasta while Ned and Harley began to cook the sauce, MJ was the DJ as she played one of her perfectly curated playlists since she didn’t know or was interested in cooking.

Throughout the night many different topics resurface, old fights and old movie nights, how Flash seemed to have a permanent crush on you and what had happened in the time that you had left. Ned was the one that lead most of the conversation regarding college and throughout the whole night, Harley flirted with MJ, which MJ responded to with coy smiles and blush cheeks. Nonetheless, you couldn’t stop your eyes from falling to Peter who seemed to be getting quieter and quieter as the night progressed, he seemed to be constantly checking his phone and furiously typing messages.

Deep down you knew they were from Gwen when after a while she still hadn’t shown up.

It wasn’t until you were taking some of the plates to the kitchen while MJ and Ned discussed what movie to watch with Harley that you really had a chance to talk to Peter. He followed you onto the kitchen while you place the plates into the sink with a sigh.

“Hey, where were you today?” Peter said as he entered the kitchen and lean into the marble island as you turned towards him.

You froze as you watched Peter’s inquisitive expression, your mind grinding what you were about to tell him.

“I was doing fieldwork”, you lied as you got closer to him. “Nothing extraordinary”

Peter gave you a veiled expression as your gazes linked. “You know you have to tell me this type of things, right?” he finally answered with a sigh.

“Yeah, but I got no information today” you answered, which was true you hadn’t really talked about anything different with Felicia than her life or random things, there was no new information about the mission per se. “I’ll tell you if I find anything. Are you going to patrol tonight? Maybe we can-”

Peter’s phone started ringing, Peter quickly grabbed it from his pocket and read the name on it. He quickly glanced at you with a painful expression. “Sorry, I have to take this”

You didn’t manage to answer, Peter was already walking towards the living room outside of the kitchen. You didn’t know if it would be the wisest thing for you to try to listen to what he was talking about but you knew he was talking with Gwen. You remained in the kitchen, staring at him talking on his phone, not that he really noticed, he was headfirst into the conversation and it seemed rather intense. You had come to learn Peter’s mannerisms when he was mad or when he was mad and discussing with someone, his stentorian stance, how his jaw would clench, how he would roll his eyes when he felt frustrated, how he would talk with his hands if the conversation got heated.

“What are you doing?”

MJ’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts regarding Peter and your gaze from him, you turned around to see her shaking her head with a smile.

“Dishes” you answered as you pointed at the plates on the sink, knowing that there was no way MJ was buying it as she sat on one of the stools near you.

“Apart from spying on Peter” she added as she raised her eyebrow.

You glared at her. “I was not” you whined.

“Yes, you were, it’s okay,” she said with a shrug as she gazed back at Peter.

You sighed and did the same, watching as Peter ran a hand through his caramel curls frustratingly as he seemed to get louder while he kept holding his phone tighter on his ear. It wasn’t good and you couldn’t help the urge of going to where Peter was, threw his phone away and simply hold him, play with his hair and help him fall asleep as you had done so many times before.

“I just,” you said frustrated. “Why wouldn’t she come?”

“She was busy”, MJ said as she took out her phone and showed you Gwen’s Instagram stories.

You could see Gwen being in a group photo of many friends but especially close to one random guy who was holding her by the waist. Then another one of Gwen’s kissing a guy’s jaw, the photo moving from a smile to a kiss on his jaw. The last one was Gwen being held by her waist by the same random guy as he gave a peace sign.

You winced at the thought of how Gwen must’ve been feeling and you felt the pang of guilt again. You knew she was doing that because it was a call for attention to her boyfriend, you would’ve been lying if you said you wouldn’t be that dramatic, knowing your reaction at seeing them kiss a year and a half prior. It was normal, it was a normal thing to do if you were feeling like that and if you didn’t have any other tool on your emotional box to react to that.

But you also felt for Peter knowing that seeing those stories and the possible text couldn’t be anything good for him, he had to be hurt by them.

“They have been struggling a lot” MJ commented, snapping you once again from your thoughts.

“Who?”

“Peter and Gwen, they just… they have been having issues. Especially since he told him about Spiderman” MJ continued as she watched her phone.

You felt your stomach twisting inside because you knew that Peter hadn’t like being Spiderman for so long but had accepted the responsibility he had when he had gained those powers and that now, years after finally accepting them, they were going to be used against him in a relationship? It didn’t seem fair.

“That sucks?” you stated as you glanced at MJ “It’s not like Peter can decide over his powers or responsibility. It’s something greater than him”

“Yeah, but it still sucks that he has to sneak around and then leave you as an afterthought” MJ replied with a shrug.

You knew that it was also true that this work wasn’t easy and that not many people would understand.

“That’s true too,” you said as you stared back at Peter.

“Love isn’t just chemistry, it’s logistic”

You turned around impressed by MJ’s intelligence on the topic, not that you were surprised that MJ was as smart emotionally as she was smart academically. But the thing was that your mind couldn’t help but to go back to the kiss with Felicia and in reality, the whole thing that was going on between both of you. What was the possible logistic behind that friendship or relationship?

Nonetheless, you didn’t want to fester on it and you pushed it into the back of your mind for the moment; quickly changing the topic.

“Hey, so costume party, you?” you asked MJ with a smile, looking at her cheekily.

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I guessed it was time since now I have more friends. My parents are going on a trip and they let me have the apartment for Halloween so I’m excited. Betty and Flash are also coming back for it.”

You smiled widely. “You know my favorite holiday is Halloween”

It was true, Halloween had become your favorite holiday since you could remember. Birthdays weren’t that special for you, you didn’t enjoy the attention you received, even if it came from Tony or Pepper, and since you didn’t have many friends to celebrate it with when you were younger, it didn’t seem important. Christmas wasn’t your favorite either, your mom had passed away during that time and it didn’t bring good memories, they were always nice but nothing more than that, plus Tony had never bought the puppy you wanted so that contributed.

But, but, Halloween was a whole different story for you. You loved that you were able to be someone else each year and it had become a tradition for you to go trick or tricking with the best Halloween costumes ever. Most importantly, Tony would go with you and no one would recognize you since you would always wear a mask, it felt like you could be yourself and not “y/n Stark”, at least for one night of the year. The tradition had continued even when you were older, Tony agreed of going through the streets of New York in different costumes and go to pick up food and candy from any restaurant you wanted, later eating it at home. One of your favorite Halloween’s hand been when you had managed to take all the Avengers to do the same, it had ended up being one of your favorite days as you walked through Time Square with Steve dressed as Ironman, Natasha dressed as Y/N Stark, Bruce dressed as Thor, Thor as Clint, Clint as Bruce, Tony dressed as Spiderman, and you and Peter decided to dress as Black Widow and Captain America.

It was a great Halloween.

“I do know that,” MJ said as she wiggled her eyebrows. “I can’t wait to see what you come as”

“Ugh, I still have to plan it but hey, thank you for inviting me,” you said honestly with a smile.

MJ huffed. “Why wouldn’t I? You are a great friend”

You winced at MJ’s words as you turned around to watch Peter again discussing even louder, he seemed so exhausted and you felt your heart clenching. Yeah, a great friend that doesn’t tell the truth to her best friend, you thought to yourself as you stared at the soft boy.

Soon, MJ and you decided to leave Peter alone for a bit, Ned and Harley had already started the movie and you sat on the couch with a smile as you watched the large screen. Still, you would turn around towards the door, hoping Peter would come and he eventually did but he seemed so drain, if he had sat closer to you, you would have probably start playing with his hair but he sat far away from you and you didn’t want to be over him, guessing he wanted to be alone.

When the movie ended, MJ gave you the details of the party that was going to happen in about two weeks, Harley invited himself before he placed a small kiss on the corner of MJ’s lips and he said goodnight. Ned gushed about how great the night had been with the same excitement he had, regardless that it was already the other day. MJ thanked you for everything and told you to text her, and then Peter said goodbye.

He seemed so tired and upset, but you knew he was trying his best to hide it.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and work?” Peter stated as you walked them towards the elevator.

You shook your head. “I think we could use the night off”

Peter sighed and you felt the relief on his eyes as he stared at you for a moment. Deep down Peter had listened to you and MJ talking, not the whole thing but just bits and pieces, he knew that you knew, he had also caught you staring at him throughout the movie and he wished he would just go to you and cuddle, but the pangs of guilt and anger wouldn’t let him.

Gwen had said it was his fault, that he had been the one that hadn’t set the boundaries with you and if he wasn’t willing to do it then she would. She made Peter feel remorseful about the invitation, about the fact that he was hanging with you and he hated it, he hated knowing that although he assured Gwen and himself that nothing was happening between the two of you, he deep down knew he still had feelings for you.

“Thank you” he muttered with a smile as you kissed him on the cheek.

Peter felt his cheeks blushing as he said goodbye and entered the elevator with MJ and Ned, gaze still locked on you and yours locked on him.

But as soon as the doors close, you heard your phone vibrating from the kitchen. You walked towards the kitchen to see who it was and you froze at the text.

Felicia Hardy: see you tomorrow, Stark?

You smiled.

***

taglist: @spideylovin @fandomtrash100 @soullessbabee @liljennyx3

***

Can you tell that I wrote the final scene at 1:30 am?? It’s so late but I really wanted to get this out so I can start writing for the next chapter that’s going to be SOOOOO exciting. many of you had already notice he chemistry between felicia and y/n which i’m glad because that’s what i was going for and i hope their kiss made that tension justice. Felicia’s so much more than black cat so i wanted to add her backstory although i changed it a bit and now she got her revenge on her friend. Plus, there are already cracks that are more notable now between Peter and Gwen, that would hopefully be resolved in the next chapter. I’m really excited about this chapter, I poured my soul into showing y/n feelings for both Felicia and Peter. I really hope you like it!!

The new sneek peak for the next chapter is going to be on. the masterlist if you want to see what’s coming next!

please please please let me know your thoughts and opinions on this chapter and if you have ANY theories or comments I would love to see them!!! I’m already so happy with the love you have given to the last chapters, I really hope you like it! any feedback is well received and thank you so much!

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catboymingi · 4 years

Text

study buddy

navi/masterlist

pairing: yunho x reader

genre: fluff; half-requested!

word count: 1.4k

warnings: zero!

a/n: this is for violet @yunhoiseyecandy and it went like this: violet: goes to school me: fucking superb you funky little yunho stan *writes this*

studying is never fun, but maybe it’s bearable if your boyfriend adds some reward

yunho knew you hated studying, or going to class, or doing anything that required some effort from your part related to getting an education. he knew that if you could you’d sleep with the books under your pillow and absorb all their knowledge. but sadly, that wasn’t how it worked. so instead, he forced you to study either through loving blackmail or loving bribing.

today, it was the time for loving bribing.

“baby, if you study and finish your homework i’ll take you out to get you whatever food you want”, a dangerous threat because he knew you loved those ridiculously expensive cakes from a café near your university that he’d never go to if you didn’t force him.

“any?”, and now he had your attention.

“any”, he confirmed, “and if you get a good grade on the essay you’re working on i’ll take you out on your dream date”, a date you’d bothered him about ever since you first got together, an amusement park he hadn’t gone to yet because you were always so busy, but it was near the end of the semester, this essay was more important than your past homeworks had been, and it was due in three days. he didn’t know how far you’d gotten already, but he knew you’d have to work hard to finish and couldn’t let him distract you all the time even when he wasn’t even trying to distract you, because then you’d be upset about getting a bad grade and would beat yourself up over being lazy and stupid - neither of which were true, you were a genius perfectionist that hated working on things unless you could be sure they’d be perfect, so quite the opposite of the issue -, something he hated to see more than he hated having to blackmail you with cuddle withdrawal when you wanted to hug him rather than study.

“okay”, starting to stare at your screen to see where you’d left off, which train of thought you’d neglected the last time you’d come to bother him, but then you looked up again.

“can you hold me while i do it, though? as extra motivation. promise i’ll work!”

and because you were so cute he couldn’t say no to you, so he did, he came to hug you from behind as your laptop rested on the bed in front of you as you started typing away furiously, suddenly incredibly motivated and with a great idea that didn’t yet fit in where you’d left off but that you’d be able to use later on in the essay.

yunho watched you in awe as word after word after word started appearing, your fingers only stopping to brush some hair out of your eyes or grab the bottle of water on the floor next to you, and he was convinced he’d never seen you work this hard. if your dream date was this motivating, maybe he’d have to bribe you more often, he decided, smiling to himself against the soft skin of your neck as he kissed you every now and then, though trying not to distract you.

not that he could, not right now. as much as you wanted to be distracted by him he’d promised you your favourite food and your dream date if you worked hard, and in this moment you decided to focus on long-term goals rather than the short-time pleasure you’d gain from kissing your boyfriend and starting a tickle fight which would end with the two of you wrapped up in each other as you laughed and held each other tightly. long-term was more important right now, definitely, so you just gave his hands a gentle squeeze with one of yours when you got water the next time before you continued typing away at the speed of light.

“baby?”, you asked at some point, and he hummed, convinced you’d ask for a distraction now, but instead you told him to make a ponytail for you while you kept writing because your hair was getting annoying but you didn’t want to elbow him in the face.

“of course”, getting one of the hair bands from around your wrist as he put your hair in a tight ponytail, making sure to catch every single strand that might bother you.

“good?”, he confirmed with you once he was pleased with the result, and you hummed appreciatively, letting him know that yes, it was good. your eyes didn’t leave the screen, though, focused on getting the words out, sometimes taking a small pause to think but never getting distracted or diverting your attention.

“you’re doing so well, love”, he let you know at some point, when you’d managed to type up about three pages in the span of maybe two hours, kissing your neck softly, up to your jaw and then trying to reach your mouth, at which point you allowed yourself to be distracted for the first time so you’d be able to kiss your needy boyfriend.

“i work better when you hold me”, you let him know, an idea he hadn’t gotten before - it was either telling you he’d hold and cuddle you once you were done and treat you like the princess you were, or it was telling you that if you didn’t work you wouldn’t get cuddles for the rest of the day. never had he thought that getting cuddles while you worked might already help in solving the procrastination problem.

“i’ll do that all the time, then”, he promised, chin on your shoulder and watching new words appear on your screen, words about a topic he knew nothing about but that he’d be excited to learn more about once your essay was done and you’d complain about some author’s inability to word things a decent way.

you continued studying like this for the next two days, and you managed to hand your essay in 26 hours and 28 minutes before the deadline, something yunho demanded half the credit for because he was convinced if he hadn’t held you and cheered you on you’d still be staring at your screen and cursing whoever made you write this stupid essay, as you’d done so many times before.

“you know i love you”, you started, and he immediately sensed the ‘but’, starting to pout before you’d even continued, “but i think i did this by myself. though your cuddles did help, i’ll give you that.”

now he was pouting a lot, so much that you decided you just had to kiss the pout away so he wouldn’t get frown wrinkles; you’d much rather he had laughter lines instead, something you tried very hard to provide by always making him laugh the hardest you could.

“don’t look at me like that, you look like a kicked puppy. like i’d abandoned my little baby dog”, you cooed as you peppered his face in kisses, and though he tried very hard to keep pouting he was smiling widely in a span of seconds.

“now you’ll have to study more though”, he told you, making it your turn to pout. but when he kissed you and pulled you into his lap, books still spread out on the bed, you couldn’t be sad. studying was necessary, but it was more pleasant when your love was holding you closely and peppering cute, soft kisses along your neck and shoulders and when he squeezed you appreciatively whenever you let out an “ah!” at having understood something new, taking notes eagerly to remember the connection your brain had made.

you continued studying like this for all your exams, which you managed to do better on than you’d expected, but he still wouldn’t take you to the amusement park, because it was a reward for the essay, not for anything else, even though it was so hard to stay stern when you gave him your biggest and best puppy eyes.

but then you got your grade. and now you would not be stopped.

“you remember what you promised?”, you asked him a few weeks later, about five minutes after you’d gotten the notification that your grade was out - an a-, much better than you’d expected, but that was a common theme by now -, and he looked at you curiously.

“you’re going to go to the amusement park with me”, an excited but very dangerous glint in your eyes, and if he wasn’t so in love with you he’d regret ever having made the promise, “and if it’s the last thing you’ll do.”

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stxphxn-strange · 4 years

Text

spun sugar (written for the ironstrange fanfic challenge)

Summary: He didn’t feel like going out, but he needed a distraction. Nothing would be able to take his mind off of the phone call he was waiting for, the call he knew would never come. Not even a double date to the carnival with Anthony, Hope, and Christine kept him focused today, and he was actually starting to need a distraction from his distraction.

a/n: just a heads up that this fic is on the heavier side of angsty so please be careful and safe! tw: for homophobia/mentioned use of slurs, outing, death (drowning), and family issues, and i think that’s it

Today felt like the world’s longest deja vu episode. It felt like standing in line at a carnival for hours, only to spin endlessly on one of those teacup rides. Everything was an unbreakable cycle of doubt, confusion, anger, and the old familiar self loathing. So for Stephen, it was just Thursday.

She didn’t forget.

She probably forgot!

She didn’t forget. She didn’t call on purpose.

She knows what today is.

She doesn’t want to talk to me.

I don’t want to talk to her either, and yet I still wish she’d call. Maybe then I could pretend that things are sort of okay.

Stephen sighed, completely tuning out his professor. He hadn’t been paying attention all class and wasn’t going to start now. There were more important things to be thinking about, like the nap he was going to take when he got home, or the fact that it was Victor’s birthday.

It was Victor’s birthday, and Stephen wanted to plan some sort of surprise call and later invite his brother to visit him in the city. Eugene immediately took to the idea and offered to help plan it and reach out to more of the family, but there was a catch. Of course Beverly had to be involved in some capacity. Even if she didn’t want to be associated with her older son, her younger one was near and dear to her heart and she wouldn’t hesitate to do anything for him. Except this, apparently, because that would involve speaking to Stephen. The med student didn’t expect to hear back from his mother and truthfully never expected a lot from her generally, but his hopes were still up.

Waste of time. She doesn’t need me.

She doesn’t even want me.

Stephen checked the time again. His lecture would be over in 15 minutes, and the next one started in half an hour. That gave him enough time to grab a coffee and call his dad on the walk across campus, and to make the time pass now he’d organize his inbox.

Most of his messages weren’t surprising (they were mainly just calendar invites and the occasional email from Anthony with an article Stephen might like) or even worth reading, but Stephen was a bit surprised when Eugene called him first. He had a solid relationship with his dad, but it was still unfamiliar for Stephen to have his family approach him first. Usually it went the other way around.

“I was just about to call you,” he said. “What’s going on? Mom never told me when the family call is”

“That’s the bad news,” Eugene replied. “Your mom changed the plan.”

“So she shut me out? Again? Is that what I’m supposed to understand?” Stephen asked, his voice cracking like the thinnest sheet of winter ice under heavy footfalls. “I didn’t do anything.”

Eugene sighed. “I’m sorry.” That was all the confirmation Stephen needed.

“What happened?” He asked. “She would do anything to make Victor happy, even if it means acknowledging me as part of the family.”

“Which you are,” Eugene argued.

“Not according to Mom, and you know that,” Stephen replied. “Please just tell me what happened, my next class starts soon.”

“Your aunt called to wish Victor a happy birthday and then was chatting with your mom about the family, as they do. I think she asked your mom how you were doing and how your love life in school was going, but at that point I wasn’t really listening. You know that your aunt is one of my few in-laws I actually tolerate, maybe even like, and today she proved exactly why. Claudia said something about you, and based on your mom’s reaction it wasn’t what she wanted to hear,” Eugene explained. “She knows you’re gay and is really happy for you, against your mom’s expectations and wishes that she’d be ashamed.”

“That was the first time they’ve talked about my sexuality, right? Because I never came out to her. I assume Maxwell brought it up for some reason because I came out to him years ago. Why he’d bring it up now, I don’t know,” Stephen replied.

“As far as I know, this is the first time Claudia brought it up. I assume if they’d talked about it before, your mother would’ve gotten angry or cut her off. She wasn’t happy today,” Eugene said bluntly. It wouldn’t do any good to sugarcoat the truth when Stephen already knew all of this.

“Great! Mom’s already mad enough at me for coming out and being proud of myself. I bet I ruined her relationship with Aunt Claudia because I blabbed and Maxwell clearly takes after Mom since he outed me for no reason!” Stephen snapped. He took a deep breath, his head spinning. “Sorry for yelling, Dad.”

“I don’t need you to apologize. You have every right to be hurt, for a lot of reasons,” Eugene said. “But to make a long story short, she told me flat out that she wouldn’t be talking to you today and then left for work at the same time she always does.”

“Can I talk to Victor at least? I don’t care if she doesn’t want to talk to me, but I can’t ignore him,” Stephen pleaded. “I can’t not be there for him on his birthday, that’s cruel!”

“I know you want to be there for your brother, it’s okay. That’s the good news and why I called you. Give me a minute,” Eugene replied.

Stephen mumbled some kind of response, slowly but impatiently shifting his weight from side to side. He was thinking about blowing off the rest of his classes for the day, emotional exhaustion overtaking him. He could usually power through things like this, as he was used to his mother steadfastly refusing to accept him. Today she and her hatred actively prevented Stephen from wishing his little brother a happy birthday, and that was too damn much. The fact that his cousin suddenly outed him almost three years after Stephen came out was only making him angrier. Stephen always tried to do the best that he could for his family, especially his younger sibling(s), and was even more protective of Victor in the wake of Donna’s death. All he wanted was to look after everyone he cared about, and his sexuality didn’t negatively affect his protective oldest child instincts. If anything it made them stronger because Stephen always wanted to be an ally for his siblings. He would always stand up for them when they needed.

Sometimes he felt like he failed Donna, despite his best efforts to keep her safe and make her happy. Stephen couldn’t fail Victor and let their mother’s actions come between them. He wouldn’t. He looked at his phone to distract himself, editing his coffee order to include a latte for Anthony. He was usually home around this time and would more than likely appreciate the surprise coffee.

Thinking of his boyfriend, the love of his life and his person, made Stephen smile just enough to prevent him from sobbing in the middle of Starbucks.

Two (2) minutes that felt like an eternity later, Victor came to the phone. “Hello?”

“Happy birthday Vic!” Stephen forced a smile, hoping some cheer could be detected in his voice.

“Thank you,” Victor replied with an emotion that Stephen couldn’t place.

“Sorry I couldn’t be there today or join the family call. I wanted to be part of the call at least, but…”

“It’s okay. I know you care, and I know you wouldn’t forget my birthday just because you’re busy.”

“Right… busy!” Stephen’s laugh was forced. “I would never miss your birthday, and not just because I have a flawless memory.”

“I was just starting to miss you until you said that. Damn shame.”

“Not only is today your birthday, it’s apparently also the start of you acting like the smartass you‘ve grown up to be,” Stephen quipped. Eugene’s noisy laughter could be heard even over the phone.

“I didn’t come into this world as a smartass like you. I had to learn from you, unfortunately,” Victor replied. “And I’m glad to see you’re amused, Dad!”

“I taught you everything I know, and this is how you thank me?” Stephen asked.

The barista called out Stephen’s order.

“Hey I have to get going, but you and Dad should come visit me in New York sometime soon,” Stephen offered.

“That sounds nice, but you can also just call me. Contrary to popular belief I do want to talk to you on days that aren’t holidays,” Victor replied. “But New York sounds fun.”

I wish we could talk whenever, like we used to when I was welcome under her roof.

“I want to go to the city, I’m sick of the neighbors,” Eugene added. “We’ll have to plan a trip, but for now we’ll let you get ready for class.”

“Thanks Dad. Love you both, and I hope you have a great birthday, Vic!” Stephen hung up before they could reply, grabbed his coffees, and dragged his feet the rest of the way home.

++++

Anthony was in the kitchen, serenely flipping through a magazine and eating lunch when Stephen trudged in. He paid no mind to the door opening at first, dipping his grilled cheese into the steaming cup of soup beside him and continuing to peruse the pages.

Stephen smiled fondly at the sight of him, the tiniest bit of joy finding its way to his heart.

“I got you a latte,” Stephen said, setting both drinks on the counter.

Anthony gasped, curiously ignoring the coffee completely and standing up to hug Stephen. “Thank you cuore mio.”

“I figured I’d surprise you since I’m home early,” Stephen replied. He relaxed into the hug, slouching in Anthony’s arms.

“I appreciate that, but I’m much happier to see you. We both left at weird times this morning so we didn’t get to talk and get ready for the day together like we usually do,” Anthony said, a little pout on his face.

“Well we’re both home now, and I’m really tired.” Stephen was beyond tired and beyond annoyed, swaying a bit in Anthony’s arms.

Anthony hugged him closer and tighter to steady him. “Let’s go sit. Did you have lunch?”

“No, I just got coffee and came right home,” Stephen replied.

Anthony handed over the other half of his sandwich. “Take this then, I just made it. There’s tomato soup too, since Bucky made me go to Panera with him earlier.”

Stephen was about to object, stopping himself only when he saw the mirthful light in Anthony’s eyes. “What?”

“I mean I don’t mind either way, but I’m giving this to you so you don’t swipe it from me like the mischievous, overgrown British shorthair you are,” Anthony teased. “You’re not subtle.”

“If I was a cat, we both know I’d be a calico,” Stephen replied.

“I disagree. What are you doing for the rest of the afternoon?” Anthony asked.

Stephen shrugged. “I kind of want to nap. Preferably with you, under a blanket, and in front of the fireplace.”

“That sounds nice,” Anthony murmured, reaching up to softly caress Stephen’s cheek. “Let’s go, then.”

As soon as they were settled, Stephen rested his head on Anthony’s shoulder and practically melted into his side.

They made idle chatter and finished their lunch, Stephen glancing at his phone every now and then.

It’s stupid to hope something will change.

He knew his mom wasn’t going to call him, and that still stung no matter how much he tried to move past it. Stephen also knew she wouldn’t ever accept him again, and she’d continue to use his identity against the rest of the family who he loved and who loved him in return. Be it immediate family or the most distant relatives, Beverly was determined to exile him completely, erasing her oldest son from the family story.

Victor probably suffered the most from this, aside from obviously Stephen himself. Contrary to what their mother thought, Victor deserved to talk to whoever he wanted on his birthday, including Stephen. Being the middle child, Victor was the link between cautious Stephen and carefree Donna. The three siblings were incredibly close growing up, and their sister’s death took as much of a toll on Victor as it did on Stephen. Stephen almost left home for good a few days after Donna’s funeral, almost leaving his little brother behind. It was impossible to forget anything about that day.

Stephen knocked on his brother’s door.

“It’s open!” Victor was sitting on the floor building a Lego castle.

Stephen sat on the floor across from him. “This looks really good, Vic!”

“Do you want to help me finish it?” Victor asked.

“I can’t today. I actually came in to tell you that I might be leaving home for a little bit,” Stephen replied. He rested his head on one of his hands.

“When do you leave?” Victor asked, still not looking at him.

“Tonight or early tomorrow. I’m going to New York to help Anthony move,” Stephen said, making up a reason as he finished answering. It was true that he was going to New York to see Anthony, but he couldn’t tell Victor the real reason why. He’d already been through enough the past few days, he didn’t need to know that Stephen and Beverly weren’t on speaking terms as of today. He didn’t need to know that their mother was trying to kick Stephen out.

Victor just sat quietly and nodded, not registering his brother’s distress. “So you have time to help me build then. Can you hand me that brick, please?”

Stephen smiled sadly and obliged.

They were quiet, just working together like nothing was wrong until an overwhelming clamor filled the farmhouse.

“Dad’s home,” Stephen remarked.

“Are he and mom arguing?” Victor asked. “Why?”

Stephen knew why, but he held his tongue and just shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

Victor nodded and went back to building. “Make sure you follow the directions, I want this to be perfect.”

They continued to work diligently, not saying much to each other but listening to the argument from the kitchen. It wasn’t easy to make out what Mr. and Mrs. Strange were saying, but their mutual anger hung in the air long after the conversation ended. The whole house felt different, its welcoming energy replaced with something sinister.

And then someone knocked on the door. “Boys?”

“Hi Dad!” Victor said. “You can come in, Stephen is helping me build the castle set that you gave me!”

Eugene walked in, standing in the doorway and watching his sons work for a minute. “Stephen, can I talk with you for a minute? Sorry to tear you away from your building, but you can finish up later. I also brought home dinner. Victor, go eat with Mom before it gets cold.”

“Cool, thanks Dad!” Victor stepped cautiously over his castle and headed downstairs.

Stephen was still on the floor, Eugene sitting at Victor’s desk. He didn’t know what this conversation was going to be like, and fear made him snatch the first words without giving them much thought.“Dad, I fucked up.”

“I’m going to be honest, I don’t see it that way,” Eugene said.

Stephen had been staring at the carpet until then, looking sharply up at his father. “What?”

“I said I don’t see it that way. You didn’t mess up,” Eugene repeated himself.

“Mom wants me to go,” Stephen mumbled. He hung his head again, looking at the carpet. Victor’s room was the only carpeted one in the house, and no one knew why.

“Your mother also wants me to stop leaving my computer in the dining room since that’s apparently ‘her space,’ but last I checked this is our home and she doesn’t have a monopoly on that room,” Eugene replied.

Stephen was quiet for a minute. “She says it’s not my home. Not anymore, anyway.”

“That’s what we were arguing about,” Eugene said. “I came home from work and she told me what you talked about and how she felt. I don’t agree with her.”

“I wanted to tell you myself,” Stephen muttered. “She had no right to tell you, that’s not what you’re supposed to do!”

Eugene didn’t say anything, unsure of what he could say to make this better.

“I didn’t time this well, I know, and I’m sorry. I should’ve given Mom more time to process losing Donna, and—”

“Stephen, I think your mother would’ve responded the same way if your sister was here. It’s nothing to do with the circumstances and everything to do with her,” Eugene said.

Stephen nodded slowly. “Are you upset with me Dad?”

“No I’m not, and I don’t think you should go,” Eugene replied.

“I probably should, for a few days,” Stephen said. “Anthony’s in New York, and I know I just saw him but I wanted to go visit again before he leaves for boarding school.”

Eugene nodded. “As long as you’re back at least a day before your school year starts.”

“Mom isn’t going to want me to come back, but I don’t want to leave Victor! I can’t abandon him!” Stephen said.

Eugene shook his head. “It’s not up to her. You’re our son, mine and hers equally, and I want you to be home with us while you finish high school. Besides, you and Victor need each other especially now. Your mom isn’t the only one who decides what family means. You are both our sons, and though our family might be a little smaller, we’re still family.” Eugene grabbed a box of tissues from Victor’s desk, handing them to Stephen as he began to cry.

“Thanks Dad.”

“It’s going to be okay. What day are you planning on going to New York?”

“I booked a flight for early tomorrow morning, Ant said anytime in the afternoon he’d be around.”

“And are you going to finally stop pining for each other and tell him how you feel while you’re there?”

“Dad!” Stephen hesitated before continuing. This was unfamiliar territory, discussing his love life with his father. Eugene knew Anthony and could obviously tell how Stephen felt, but it was weird to talk about this. Still, curiosity got the better of him. “Do you think I should?”

To make a long story short, that’s how they ended up here, in the apartment they shared with three of their friends while Anthony repeatedly nudged Stephen with his elbow.

“What do you want?” Stephen muttered, failing to even pretend like he was annoyed.

“Scoot over so I can go to the kitchen!” Anthony said, the slightest hint of a whine in his voice.

Stephen shifted and grumbled a little protest as he stood up.

Anthony smiled and kissed the top of his head. “I’ll be right back, then you can cling to me as much as you want.”

Stephen sighed, half in teasing exasperation, and looked at his phone again. He was staring daggers at it when Anthony returned, letting it go when he was pulled into a hug.

“Did you hear back from her yet? What time is the call?” Anthony asked gently, beginning to stroke Stephen’s hair.

“She hasn’t called yet.” That wasn’t a lie, but Stephen was too upset to give Anthony more details right now.

Anthony hummed, kissing his head again. “She will.”

“I don’t— yeah. She will,” Stephen mumbled. Also not a lie, as he was still clinging to the thinnest shred of hope that his mom would change her mind.

She won’t.

It doesn’t matter how much she loves Victor and values his happiness, I’m dead to her and that’s final.

“How was your day?” Stephen asked, eager if not desperate to change the subject. “Did you present the business plan you were telling me about? How did it go?”

“I did! Honestly it went really well, I wasn’t nervous like I usually am,” Anthony replied.

Stephen yawned. “I’m so happy for you. Every time you practiced presenting it to me, you were amazing.” He was physically and mentally weary, exhaustion dragging him into a midnight blue haze, but he was never too tired to give Anthony the praise he deserved.

“Thank you,” Anthony murmured. His eyes were closed, but Stephen could practically hear Anthony’s soft smile.

“I mean it,” Stephen said. “Love you.”

He was surrendering to the exhaustion, to the warmth of the fire and the blanket and Anthony’s embrace. Sometimes knowing that Anthony loved him and feeling the manifestations of his love made Stephen feel a little better. This was reprieve, and he was going to revel in it until reality came back to kick his ass.

Anthony still sounded like he was smiling. “I love you too. Get some rest sleepyhead.”

++++

Anthony woke up first, his phone ringing loudly from the carpet below. He was going to just ignore it, mistaking the notification for an alarm, until he came to his senses a little more and realized Christine was calling.

“Your boyfriend is bad at answering his phone,” she’d said.

“Hello to you too, Christine. He’s sleeping,” Anthony replied. “We both were, actually.”

“So sorry to have interrupted your mid afternoon nap,” Christine drawled. “But I’m glad you were resting. Stephen seemed really off today during class, and as much as I hate to admit it I was a bit worried.”

“You’re too much of a helicopter parent friend to pretend like you’re not concerned,” Anthony said. “I can see right through that.”

Christine just laughed. “Anyway, I know you could talk about Stephen for probably years but I called for a reason.”

“What’s up?” Anthony asked. Stephen was still asleep in his arms, and Anthony tried his best not to disturb him. “Everything okay?”

“Oh yeah I’m fine! I was just gonna ask if you two wanted to go on a double date with me and Hope later? It’s the first night of the carnival,” Christine said. “Sam and Bucky aren’t planning on going until tomorrow because they’re boring, and we want an adventure.”

“Going out on a Thursday night counts as an adventure?” Anthony asked.

“Why wouldn’t it?!” Christine protested. “Let me know what you decide to do and just text me or Hope, we can plan to meet up later. I take it Stephen isn’t going to class but I am, so I’ll talk to you later.”

“Sounds good, bye Christine!” Anthony rolled his eyes in amusement, opening a game on his phone and holding Stephen closer.

It wasn’t more than twenty minutes later when he woke up, checking his phone and trying to hide his disappointment when his mom didn’t call.

What did I expect? She made up her mind.

She doesn’t want to talk to me.

Why am I pretending she cares, hoping she’ll call?

Stephen huffed out a sigh, more angry with himself than anything else.

“Nothing yet?” Anthony asked gently.

“No,” Stephen replied. He felt anger boiling in his system, unease taking over as he continued to lie and hope that something would change.

“I’m sorry,” Anthony said. “The day is still young.”

“I guess that’s true.�� Stephen didn’t know if going along with what Anthony said was helping or hurting at this point. “I have a ton of missed calls from Christine though.”

“Oh yeah, she invited us on a double date with her and Hope since it’s the first night of the carnival,” Anthony replied. “You in?”

“Not really.” Stephen answered without even giving it much thought.

“Okay.” Anthony was always so amenable, sensitive, and empathetic, even at the expense of what he wanted. Sometimes Stephen’s heart ached at how selfless Anthony was and how much he cared for people. It was a privilege to be someone Anthony loved, but Stephen had to remind him constantly that relationships were a give and take. He didn’t want to drain Anthony’s kindness, not the way people in his past did. He wanted and tried to be as giving and loving to Anthony as Anthony was to him.

He didn’t even sound upset about not going out, but Stephen’s anxiety kicked in and convinced him otherwise. “Well wait Ant, what do you want to do?”

“It might be fun, but—”

“Why not go, then?”

Anthony was stunned by how fast Stephen changed his mind, trying to read his face for things his words left unsaid. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine… just a little jittery waiting for this stupid call. A distraction might help, and you’re right! It probably will be fun. Plus I don’t want to selfishly keep you from being out with friends, that’s not fair to you.”

“Nope, you stop that right now,” Anthony admonished gently. “If I wanted to go with our friends, I would. I want to spend time with you tonight, whatever that looks like, and we’re both allowed to want things. They don’t have to be the same thing, and you’re not selfish or controlling for disagreeing with me. Believe me?”

“I wish I could, because I know you mean it. I just feel like a failure since I can’t be there for Victor the way I want,” Stephen replied. “And I know it’s not my fault, but…”

“But it still hurts.” Anthony gently cupped his face and leaned in to kiss him. “Right?”

Stephen nodded, whispering a pained “yes,” into the kiss. It hurt more than Anthony knew, more than he was ready to discuss.

“You’re not a failure. You’re just trying to make everyone happy even when the most fucked up circumstances get in the way. It’s not a bad thing to prioritize yourself, and in fact it’s a good thing to give yourself the kindness you give to others. You have to,” Anthony said, protectively wrapping his arms around Stephen.

“I’m glad you listen to my advice enough to repeat it back to me, at the very least,” Stephen quipped.

“Yeah yeah, I know I sound like a hypocrite since I—”

“Since you’re not nice to yourself, even though you deserve to be,” Stephen finished his sentence. “I just want to be able to make someone happy today. I want to make you happy.”

Anthony smiled sadly and kissed him again. “I love you so much, you idiot. You always make me happy, and I’m always here for you.”

“I know you are. I love you too,” Stephen replied. “A distraction honestly might help me deal with the waiting game, though.”

“It could!” Anthony nodded, playfully adding, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Oh yeah? How?” Stephen played along.

“We can start by getting your favorite sushi,” Anthony offered.

Stephen genuinely smiled at that, attempting to hide it by burying his head in Anthony’s shoulder. “Really?”

“Why not?” Anthony replied. “It’s been awhile since we went to that restaurant anyway.”

“It’s been too long,” Stephen corrected him. “I’m not sure if I’m feeling up to being out for dinner and then going out later, though. I feel bad because you’re trying so hard to plan something fun, and—”

“You don’t have to feel bad. It’s not a problem, we can just order in and stay home until later. That’s what I was planning anyway,” Anthony said. “And if you don’t feel like going out tonight, we really don’t have to.”

“I want to, but I also don’t,” Stephen said. “You know what I mean?”

Anthony nodded. “Yeah, I do. I’m fine with whatever though, it’s up to you.”

“Let’s go then. I’m still kind of on the fence, but I’m leaning towards yes.”

++++

He was just being himself, but Anthony was making good on his little teasing promise to make the fair worth Stephen’s while. He had some magical effect where his smile made anyone’s heart sing, and his spell was especially powerful on Stephen. He was truly having fun, for the most part. His motion sickness didn’t flare up at any point, which meant he could spin a bit faster than normal on the teacups ride. It was exhilarating and just dizzying enough that he leaned slightly into Anthony’s shoulder while the group decided what to do next. Stephen found he was oddly at peace with himself and the evening, probably because of Anthony’s spell.

“Okay, here’s what I want to know: what the hell is a hall of mirrors?” Anthony asked.

“How do you not know?” Christine replied, her eyebrows racing up towards her hairline.

“Never in my life have I been exposed to anything that would entail being in a hall of mirrors,” Anthony muttered.

“Surely you’ve been to a carnival before, right?” Hope asked.

“Yes, and amusement parks! But again, I have no idea what it actually is,” Anthony said. “I’ve never seen one until right now.”

“It’s just as it sounds, Ant. It’s a room full of mirrors, almost like a maze I think, and some of the mirrors are distorted. It’s hard to explain without seeing it, but it’s kind of funny,” Stephen replied. “You’re the only person in life who ever gives me an answer,” Anthony half-joked, linking arms with Stephen. “The only person.”

“Rude, didn’t I just tell you the other day about—”

“Hope I love you but I made my point very clear,” Anthony teased. “I need to see these mirrors.”

Stephen smiled. Anthony was so full of an almost childlike wonder, he was kind of like the human equivalent of a ferris wheel… somehow… the comparison made more sense in his head. “This is going to be adorable.”

“Can we go?” Anthony was almost bubbly with excitement.

Stephen couldn’t say no to him, and right now he didn’t want to. “Yeah, come on.”

“It’s this way, let’s go!” Christine pointed vaguely to her left and led the way.

Stephen didn’t know what Anthony expected to see in a room that was literally just Full Of Mirrors, but his every reaction to it was more endearing than the last.

“Could you imagine decorating an entire house like this?” He asked, looking around the room.

“You mean you haven’t?” Christine teased.

Stephen rolled his eyes. “I can barely stand to look at myself for five minutes, this is like hell on earth. Don’t give Ant any ideas about redecorating our apartment, Christine.”

“She doesn’t need to, I wouldn’t do it,” Anthony replied. “Even I don’t need to see this much of myself.”

Christine laughed at their antics before chasing after Hope and giving them a moment alone. There weren’t many other people around, so Stephen had an unobstructed view of several of his reflections checking their phones.

Anthony was still standing beside him, taking everything in. “You okay?”

Stephen (and all of his clones) nodded. “Yeah, I guess. Still no updates though.”

I can’t even be honest with him. I can barely be honest with myself at this point.

“I’m sorry Steph.”

“It’s okay! I’m probably more anxious than I need to be, it’s really fine.”

Anthony frowned slightly but didn’t push him. “I feel like there should be at least one control variable, just a basic full body mirror at the beginning and/or end of these things.”

“There usually is at the end,” Stephen replied. “At least I think. It’s like when you leave home and take another glance at yourself to make sure you look decent. You’re the one who can, and you do, spend five minutes in front of any mirror, so—”

“That’s absolutely not true and you know it. The longest I’ve looked at myself in the front hallway mirror specifically is three minutes tops”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, babe.”

They continued their walk around the winding hallways, coming to a stop at a standard mirror just in front of the exits.

Christine and Hope were chattering outside, looking at a map of the fairground that they’d found somewhere (Stephen hadn’t a clue where, seeing as he wasn’t paying attention at the time).

“We look cute,” Anthony remarked.

“You do, I don’t,” Stephen said.

“No, we both do!” Anthony’s stubbornness was coming out to play, it seemed. “I mean I know you only keep me around because I’m adorable, but I’m probably the luckiest guy in the world to be yours.”

Stephen blushed and looked at his shoes. “Yeah, I’m only with you because you’re hot and not at all because you’re my best friend who I happen to be madly in love with.”

“Aww.” Anthony smiled and squeezed Stephen’s hand, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I love you too, you asshole.”

Stephen looked up, staring at their reflections and different expressions. His smile was tired and clearly forced, while Anthony’s was genuine and bright. He couldn’t help but sigh, disappointed in himself for not matching his boyfriend’s energy.

“You sure you’re okay?” Anthony asked.

“I’m trying to be,” Stephen replied. “That’s the best answer I have, and it may not seem like I’m trying very hard, but I am.”

“I know. Stress and anxiety don’t just go away when you ignore them, unfortunately,” Anthony reminded him. “Attention whores that they are.”

Stephen laughed, surprised as always by Anthony’s sudden dry delivery and humor. “I feel like you’re what ‘sugar and spice and everything nice’ means, you can go from sweet and calming to making me laugh within the same breath.” He shuffled forward a bit, dropping his head on Anthony’s shoulder.

“Well I don’t like the implication that I’m nice,” Anthony huffed jokingly.

“I didn’t really imply it, I’m telling you that you’re nice,” Stephen replied.

Anthony just rolled his eyes. “That’s your opinion.”

“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true, you know I don’t like lying,” Stephen said.

Except for the fact that I’m so in denial about Mom not calling that I actually am lying to Anthony. He doesn’t deserve that.

Anthony just shrugged as Stephen looked up at him again. “So when you said that I’m not good at carnival games, that was—”

“That was me trying to encourage you, and while you clearly needed it I don’t think it helped,” Stephen quipped.

“Rude but true. At least there weren’t a lot of people—”

“Move!” A boisterous group of children who couldn’t be older than 13 ran past, shoving past them on their way to the door.

Stephen stumbled and fell back against Anthony, which caused one of the group to say something particularly rude.

Anthony glared at the instigator. “What?”

“Don’t, it’s not worth it,” Stephen said.

The same kid laughed, having the audacity to repeat himself before catching up with the rest of the bullies.

“I don’t know where someone who looks like they’re barely eleven years old learns to talk like that, but they can fuck right off,” Anthony said.

“You’re right. Honestly I would be more upset if worse things hadn’t happened today, but it’s all relative,” Stephen replied. “I’ll tell you about it later, we should go find Hope and Christine.”

Anthony nodded, a scowl still on his face when they found and rejoined their friends.

“Are you self-obsessed idiots done looking at yourselves?” Christine teased.

“You literally heard me say I can’t stand looking at my reflection for more than five minutes. We were just talking,” Stephen said.

“Why do people have to be so goddamn ignorant?” Anthony muttered, kicking the dirt in front of him.

“What happened?” Hope asked.

“Really nothing, just some middle schoolers being stupid,” Stephen replied. “It’s not a big deal. What are we thinking about doing now?”

“I want a snack, I think,” Christine said. “Does anyone want cotton candy?”

“We should get cotton candy!”

Donna had boundless energy, a zest for life, and a fun-loving mischief about her. She ran into each day like it was a new adventure, sometimes reckless but always under the protective watch of her brothers.

“If that’s what you want, Donna, I’ll buy you some.”

“What about me?”

Victor didn’t come into the world with a smartass attitude, but he quickly adopted some of Stephen’s mannerisms. He learned how to assert himself and how to be fair, which meant he knew when and how to argue on his own behalf.

“Of course Vic, I’ll get you some too.”

“I want the bubblegum flavor!”

It was the end of summer, and the Strange family was spending an afternoon at the zoo. Donna loved animals more than almost anything in the world, and all she’d wanted was to spend the day with her family sharing random animal facts and learning as much as she could. Stephen was the one to plan the excursion, the trip occurring the day after he returned from California. He was visiting Anthony for just under two (2) weeks then, that summer their last as ‘just friends.’

Donna was elated when Stephen came home, her little face lighting up when he announced the family outing.

Outing was an interesting choice of words.

That day trip was the last time the Strange family was whole. That day was the last day Stephen was worth something in his mom’s eyes, the last time he read his sister a bedtime story after pretending that he didn’t want to. All Stephen did was plan a surprise afternoon for Donna and buy her cotton candy, and she was the happiest he’d ever seen her. It was, in the most tragic sense, the perfect last day. She drowned in the lake the next morning, and Stephen felt like he lost control of his life. Desperate to take it back, and against his better judgement, he came out a few days later. He hoped his mom would be supportive, understanding, and maybe even encouraging, but he was as good as disowned by her that day.

“Hey… Earth to Steph.” Anthony softly caressed his face. “Stephen?”

He snapped out of his flashback, probably looking like a deer in the headlights when his eyes met Anthony’s. “Sorry.”

“I thought you were gonna pass out for a minute,” Anthony said.

“I’m good. I just zoned out,” Stephen replied. “It’s not even motion sickness, I genuinely stopped listening to whatever you guys were talking about.”

“So you didn’t hear me ask if any of you wanted cotton candy?” Christine asked.

“That I did hear.” Stephen heard the sudden brittleness in his voice and steeled himself, subconsciously reaching for Anthony’s hand.

“I forgot you don’t like sweets that much, sorry man,” Christine replied.

“That isn’t the problem,” Stephen said. “And that’s not even true.”

Christine just shrugged. “Alright.”

Stephen sighed, ignoring the confused look Christine gave him and running his free hand through his hair. He sighed again. “Sorry Christine.”

“You’re forgiven, Stephen. It’s fine, and sometimes you just have a bad day,” Christine replied. “It’s not like I’ve never gone off on you before.”

“I wouldn’t call that going off, I’ve used all of my self restraint today,” Stephen said. “But thanks.”

He sighed for the third time and leaned against Anthony’s shoulder.

“You okay?” Anthony asked gently.

Stephen looked at his phone again. “Still no updates.”

Anthony frowned, concern and understanding written all over his face. “That’s shitty.”

“You’re right about that,” Stephen replied, laughing despite himself at how direct Anthony’s delivery was. “Rollercoaster?”

“Damnit, I thought I was enough of a thrill for you,” Anthony teased.

Stephen rolled his eyes. “You are, you dumbass. I just thought it’d be fun.”

“I’m not disagreeing! I’m in,” Anthony replied.

“The line isn’t too long, y’all should go now,” Hope said. “We’re getting popcorn, and then we can ride the teacups again before leaving if you guys want?”

“Sure,” Anthony said.

Stephen just nodded. He’d had a good time, but honestly just wanted to go home and pretend like today didn’t happen.

“We can hold your shit too, if you want,” Christine offered.

“Thank you for not bringing up the Great Adventure mishap,” Anthony replied, handing Christine his bag.

“Not sure if I’d call forgetting to take off your sunglasses a mishap,” Stephen quipped, also handing over his bag.

Maybe I’ll get lucky and she’ll have called by the time we’re back.

If I asked a magic 8 ball what the chances were of that happening, I think it’d tell me to go fuck myself.

“What would you call it, then?” Anthony asked indignantly.

“Unfortunate, and a consequence of you not listening to me when I said not to wear them,” Stephen replied.

“You’re both wrong, that’s just Ant’s smooth brain energy hard at work,” Hope said.

Anthony rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry that wearing sunglasses is such a big part of my personal brand! Whatever, see you two in a bit!”

Hope and Christine probably rolled their eyes as Stephen and Anthony went on their way, but all in good fun.

Stephen was starting to feel a little better while they queued for the rollercoaster. He’d always liked them and they never made him dizzy which really helped. Coasters were sort of like a spontaneous thought process in his mind. There were digressions, breakthroughs and thoughts that were best left alone, and something to look forward to at every corner. Stephen felt like there was less time for self loathing on a rollercoaster, less time to hone in on certain things while he was moving so fast. He definitely preferred rollercoasters to tilt-a-whirl type things, even though he didn’t hate the spinning teacup ride they ended the night with. There was just more sitting still involved somehow, which meant more opportunities for self loathing. The pattern of the ride mirrored the circular thought process he slipped into, almost like he was cycling through stages of grief. Stephen wasn’t sure if he was angrier with Beverly for how she treated him or with himself for hoping she’d call, and he hadn’t even made it out of the denial stage. To his expected disappointment, there were no calls from his mom when he checked his phone on the ride home.

I don’t know what I expected.

I keep telling myself that I’m dead to her and it doesn’t seem to sink in.

I know it’s true, and all of this might hurt less if I just accept that.

Christine and Hope were bickering about something in the front of their car, and Stephen didn’t have a clue what it was. He’d tuned them out again, despondently resting his head on Anthony’s shoulder as Christine navigated the traffic.

“Ant?” Stephen’s voice was hushed and straining as he tried not to cry.

Anthony hummed. “That’s me.”

Stephen smiled sadly. “She’s not going to call, Anthony.”

“The night is still—”

“No! No, I mean she’s… I’ll tell you when we get home.” Stephen was trembling now, overwhelmed with everything that he was feeling.

“Okay,” Anthony murmured, softly kissing his head. His heart broke as Stephen started crying into his shoulder. “I love you.”

Stephen barely fought back a sob. Sometimes he needed reminders that people loved and cared about him, but he was always ashamed to ask. He was getting slowly better at asking for affection, but verbal reassurance was a completely separate beast. When it came to dealing with his mother, he needed to hear that he was loved and valued for who he was to try and combat the self loathing that followed their conversations. He needed help getting his confidence and self assurance back. He didn’t like to be so vulnerable, but Stephen couldn’t deny that sometimes he just wanted to feel loved and safe. Anthony, affectionate and protective and caring and sweet, always knew when Stephen needed these loving affirmations and always provided them. “I love you too.”

“It’s okay. We’ll be home soon, mia vita,” Anthony soothed. He reached for one of Stephen’s hands, holding it in both of his own. “Ti amo con tutto ciò che sono e con tutto ciò che sarò.”

He loves me…

++++

There was always something sweet about coming home to a loud house. The noise could be jarring, a pleasant consequence of 5 relatively loud friends living together, but it served as a welcoming of sorts. Today it was even louder when Stephen and Anthony got home, thanks mostly to an argument between Sam and Wong. Standing between them, Bruce was acting like a moderator of sorts.

“The lovebirds are back!” Wong announced, interrupting what looked like a heated rebuttal from Sam. “How was the carnival?”

“It was good! I tried to win one of those balloon dart games,” Anthony replied.

“Keyword is ‘tried,’ guys,” Stephen added.

“I was too busy thinking about what prize to win since I wanted to give Steph something cute, but it didn’t really go to plan,” Anthony said.

“Next time babe, I believe in you!” Stephen cheered as brightly as he could. He was tired of faking a smile, tired of hoping his mom would come around.

She’s never going to change her mind.

“Maybe we should’ve gone tonight, I feel like it’s going to be more crowded tomorrow,” Sam said.

“I think it depends on when you go,” Anthony replied. “Speaking of going places, you know your man dragged me to Panera with him earlier.”

“I told you! Nothing comes between Bucky and a bread bowl,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “What time do you think is the best to go tomorrow night?”

Stephen shrugged. “Probably 8? I don’t know. Most of the lines move relatively fast so you should be fine.”

“Don’t worry Sam, if the grumpiest boy on the Eastern seaboard says you’ll be fine, you’ll definitely be good,” Wong teased.

“That’s rich coming from you.” Stephen turned on his heel and left, retreating to the comfort of his bedroom.

“Did I upset him?” Wong asked, mostly addressing Anthony. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Something is bothering him,” Anthony replied. It wasn’t his business to go into detail, nor was he the gatekeeper of what problems Stephen chose to share with their friends. “He should be okay, but I’m gonna go keep him company.”

Anthony headed for his bedroom, bringing the conversation to a halt. Stephen had closed the door, which wasn’t unusual but Anthony still didn’t want to just open it in case Stephen wanted to be completely alone.

He knocked quietly yet audibly to avoid startling Stephen. “Hey, it’s just me. Can I come in?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Stephen mumbled. He was curled up on their bed, trembling as he looked up at the ceiling.

It was warm in their room as per usual, so Anthony knew Stephen wasn’t shivering from cold.

Stephen felt the bed dip as his boyfriend sat beside him, and he closed his eyes as Anthony began to gently massage his scalp.

“Wong and Christine are probably angry with me,” Stephen said after a while.

“Wong didn’t mean to upset you,” Anthony replied. “Neither did Christine. And I think they understand that you’re not purposefully antagonizing them.”

Stephen sat up, the intense mix of emotion in eyes burning a hole in the ceiling as he leaned against the headboard and a pile of throw pillows.

Anthony shifted just enough to rest his head on Stephen’s shoulder, silently reminding him that he wasn’t alone. He offered one of his hands, Stephen holding it gently. He drew figure eights on Anthony’s upturned palm as he thought, the motion soothing as he started talking.

“Before I came home today, when I went to Starbucks, I got a call from my dad,” Stephen began. “Mom changed the plan for today, he said. I don’t know what she did specifically but all that matters is that she rearranged the family call so I couldn’t join. That was her way of telling me she’s mad at me without having to burden herself by speaking with me.”

Anthony shifted to straddle him, comfortingly resting his hands on Stephen’s arms. Stephen didn’t meet his concerned gaze.“I’m sorry.”

“It gets worse. When I said earlier that I’ve dealt with worse things today than some homophobic children, all of this is what I mean.” Stephen was still staring upwards, as if their ceiling had an answer he didn’t. “I got to talk to Vic, which was most important to me. We didn’t talk for very long since I was planning on going to my next class at that point, but I got to wish him a happy birthday and apologize for not being able to join the call. He wasn’t upset with me, he understood and we left things on the same good terms. I didn’t tell him why I couldn’t join, but I’m sure he knows. I’m sure he’s figured out why Mom and I don’t talk, he knows enough of the story to figure it out.”

He was crying now, all of his emotions boiling over. He was livid, devastated, and afraid for some reason, hiding his face in his hands.

Anthony was silent, taking both of Stephen’s hands and letting him cry until he’d somewhat calmed down.

“Sorry,” Stephen mumbled. He rested their joined hands in his lap and turned his teary gaze on Anthony. “I've not even finished the story and I’m already a mess.”

“It’s okay Steph, you don’t have to be.” Anthony brushed a few stray tears off Stephen’s face.

Stephen sighed. “I knew by the time I got home that she wasn’t going to call me. That’s why I came back, honestly. I didn’t want to sit through my classes thinking about it, thinking about how I’m… thinking about how she wouldn’t call. I tried to make myself tell you earlier, but I can barely come to terms with all of this in my own head. I wasn’t trying to lie to you when you said she might call, I promise. I was just holding onto the smallest wisp of hope that maybe she’d change her mind.”

“I don’t feel like you lied to me,” Anthony replied, one of his hands again finding its way to playing with Stephen’s hair. “I’m sorry I was so insistent in saying she’d call. I was trying to reassure you.”

“I know,” Stephen said. “It helped a little, especially since I was trying to convince myself that she’d end up calling. But she never did, Anthony, and she won’t. Dad said she told him directly that she wasn’t going to talk to me, so why am I such a fool and still hoping she’ll come around? I’m dead to her and I should be able to understand that!”

“I imagine you’re trying to make yourself accept it so you can move on, right?” Anthony asked.

Stephen nodded frantically, his eyes shut tight as he began to cry again. “I know that’s not the best way to deal with things, but I don’t know what to do. I don’t expect her to accept me anytime soon, and I know my family isn’t going to ever feel whole again. But I ruined Victor’s birthday by not showing up for him with the rest of the family! I would’ve joined the call if she wasn’t mad at me, and I didn’t even fucking do anything!”

Stephen was crying more out of anger than sadness, resting his head on Anthony’s shoulder and subconsciously pinching his forearm.

Anthony hugged him, both to reassure Stephen and to keep him from hurting himself in anger. “You haven’t failed him. You did what you could and made the best out of an awful, fucked up situation.”

Stephen just nodded, hearing Anthony’s message but not fully listening “Speaking of fucked up, and this is actually probably the thing I’m most upset about, you know my cousin Maxwell?”

"Yeah.”

“He took a page out of my mom’s book and outed me to my aunt.”

“Jesus Christ.” Now Anthony looked as angry as Stephen felt, a storm brewing in his eyes.

“I’m lucky because my aunt Claudia is great, and she’s really accepting but that obviously pissed my mom off so now she’s mad at her sister and at me,” Stephen said.

“That’s good about your aunt, but why the fuck would your cousin do that?” Anthony asked.

“He might have thought she already knew, I don’t know. It’s not okay that he did it, but it’s a relief to know that at least she took it well. I was worried she’d make fun of me since she always likes to prank and make me the butt of the joke, and even that would be fine compared to my mom’s response,” Stephen replied. “If I got over this faster I wouldn’t have taken all the fun out of tonight.”

“Hey, stop that,” Anthony murmured. “You didn’t! I like being around you no matter what mood you’re in, and I’m always here for you. That includes when things aren’t going well, by the way. My love for you isn’t conditional.”

Stephen looked up enough just to see Anthony’s face. “Do you think she’s ever going to come around? And not just today, but in general?”

“I hope so,” Anthony replied. “You don’t deserve to deal with this from her, or from anyone but least of all your own mother, and I hope she understands that sooner rather than later. But I can’t say with certainty what she’s going to do.”

“I just want today to be over,” Stephen said with a sigh. “I mean I did have fun tonight, but spending the entire day attached to my phone and trying to ignore what I already know wasn’t really nice.”

Anthony nodded. “Why don’t we get ready for bed then? We can put it all behind us and start over tomorrow.”

“That sounds good,” Stephen whispered. “I know I won’t ever forget this, but just for now I want to set it aside.”

++++

The day should’ve ended there, with slight banter and falling into bed with the person Stephen loved most in the world. But of course it didn’t, of course the powers that controlled his life had to have the last laugh. He’d just closed his eyes and was starting to slip away, content as Anthony pulled up one of their nighttime playlists and hummed along to whatever song was playing. Stephen was the little spoon tonight, feeling loved and secure and safe in the dark of their bedroom and Anthony’s arms. He was finally starting to relax, and then the phone rang.

He didn’t expect it and was annoyed when he heard the first notes of his ringtone, but he answered anyway thinking it was one of their friends. Thor especially had a tendency to call people earlier in the morning or later at night. “Hello?”

Despite having called him, the person on the other end of the line responded with a hasty “I must’ve misdialed. Don’t call back.”

Oh my god.

The cold, familiar voice ringing out over the speakerphone made Stephen’s heart stop.

SHE CALLED!

“No Mom, wait! I didn’t think you were going to call.”

“I don’t consider you my son, I don’t know why you keep calling me your mother,” Beverly replied. “I told you, I misdialed. I wouldn’t go out of my way to speak with you, not after you continuously cast shame onto my family.”

“Not even today? On Victor’s birthday?” Stephen asked.

Beverly scoffed. “No, and don’t even say his name! You and Victor aren’t brothers anymore, you decided that for yourself, and I’ll not have any outside influences corrupting my only son!” She hung up before Stephen could defend himself, the dial tone uncomfortably loud.

Stephen wasn’t sure what to do. A sharp, stabbing numbness seized his body and he curled in on himself to escape the onslaught of emotion hanging over his head. He turned onto his other side, burying his head in Anthony’s chest and failing to keep himself from crying.

“None of what she told you is true,” Anthony said. “Not a damn thing. You—”

Stephen shook his head. “Anthony, don't talk. Please, I’m sorry, I love you and I love your voice but I can’t… it’s too much…”

Anthony shushed him softly, carding his hand through Stephen’s hair again. He wanted to say something, to tell Stephen that he didn’t have to apologize, but that wouldn’t do any good. Instead, he just hugged Stephen tighter and gave him a soft kiss. Sometimes love was best conveyed in actions.

This is just like when I left after the funeral, when we hid from the outside world together. No one makes me feel at home the way Anthony does.

Stephen was too used to crying in Anthony’s arms because of things his mother… because of things Beverly told him. He knew he could run and hide from this or any problem with Anthony, and he’d always be safe and accepted and home. The thought was comforting, especially to the part of Stephen’s mind that was loath and afraid to confront the truth.

Eventually I’m going to have to process this fully and give myself the time to do it. I know myself, and I’m not going to change for anyone. Why should I have to?

Stephen shifted closer to Anthony, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. He rested his head on Anthony’s shoulder, the tiniest smile on his face.

How does he already have bedhead? Adorable.

Despite saying that he wasn’t tired, Anthony was already falling asleep. “Need anything?”

Stephen shook his head and softly kissed Anthony’s cheek. “I’ll be fine. I’m just as tired as you, if not more.”

“Doubtful.”

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you just scoffed at me.”

“I didn’t!”

Stephen rolled his eyes and leaned up to kiss Anthony’s cheek. “I love you. Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything, really, and I love you too,” Anthony replied with a yawn.

“You’ve done more for me than you realize, and I think you know it,” Stephen murmured.

Already falling asleep, Anthony didn’t respond verbally. He just hugged Stephen closer, again saying much more than words ever could.

tags: @stark-strange-love2 @taruyison @kitkatfat15 @katninjagirl97 @spookywizardboy @ocforeverything @ironstrange-chaos @chocopiggy @lokis-leah @majesticnerdynerd @maya-custodios-dionach @thespacecryptid @kiwidino @doctorstephenvincentstarkstrange

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fanfic-me-up · 4 years

Text

Insecure s/o with short hair || Headcanons

This is a lovely request! Thank you for the awesome idea @bitweird1

I can relate to this so hard that I wrote Midoriya’s based on my experience with a haircut that went wrong. I cried with my mom in the car for like half an hour 😂

I hope you like it! I’m sure you look lovely with your haircut 💖

Midoriya Izuku

He’s very supportive of you changing your hairstyle!

Will listen to you ramble as you scroll through hair inspiration pics.

“You’ll look beautiful either way, Y/N.”

He’ll take you to the salon and wait while you get your haircut. He’s the No. 1 pro-hero, but he’ll always make time for his girl.

Oh no, did you really ask for it that short?

Your hair painfully stays put no matter how you ruffle it.

It’s just hair, it’ll grow back. You repeat, but that doesn’t stop the lump in your throat from surfacing.

Izuku drops the magazine he’s holding to stand, his eyes roaming your face with a sense of wonder.

“Wow, Y/N, you look…”

“I know.” You look down to hide the tears welling up. It’s bad enough you hate your hair, but you can’t stand the thought of Izuku hating it too.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Izuku brushes your hair behind your ear, but it’s so short that it falls back in your face again.

The tears threaten to fall and you don’t want to make a scene so you grab Izuku’s hand and drag him to the car.

You ramble about how bulky your head looks and how you won’t be able to style your hair anymore like you used to.

And poor Izuku looking like a confused puppy bc you look freaking gorgeous?

“Okay please slow down, babe, I have no idea what you’re talking about, it looks great!”

“I’m bald, ‘Zuku, it doesn’t get worse than this!”

“Would it make you feel better if I showed you the pictures my mom took when I cut and dyed my hair like All Might’s?”

You sniffle, “…maybe”

Okay, you know you’re being over-dramatic, but it’s gonna take a while for your hair to grow back and you’re dreading the whole awkward phase where your hair is neither short nor long.

Izuku makes it his personal mission to make you feel comfortable in your own skin again. we all know this boy doesn’t know when to quit

He will put his research skills to the test, scouring the internet for ways to make your hair grow faster and different hairstyles to try.

Be prepared to experiment!

Izuku is gonna raid the pantry, combining different ingredients to make hair masks!

If it doesn’t work, he will jot it down in his notebook dedicated to you and move on to the next combination.

Spa night will become a regular thing!

Thanks to Izuku’s big brain and hardwork, your hair grows back in no time!

But you kinda miss your short hair bc spa night was bonding time for you and Izuku.

He surprises you when he comes in with a sheet mask on his face and hands you one of your own.

Just because your hair grew back doesn’t mean spa night is over!

Todoroki Shouto

You decided to take the plunge and get a pixie cut!

All the girls compliment you when you walk in.

“Girl, you look hot!” Mina gushes.

“I’m so jealous! I wish I could pull off a pixie cut like you!” Ochako says.

You blush and thank them for their kind words.

Todoroki stops in his tracks at the sight of you.

Will he love it? Will he hate it?

“Beautiful.”

That one word sends your heart for a loop.

But your confidence is shattered when you and Todoroki go out the next day and two guys on the street make some rude comments.

“Which one of ya’s the dude?”

“Nah, man they’re both dudes!”

They hold their stomachs, laughing at their sad excuse of a joke.

Your hand grips Todoroki’s tight, scared that if you let go you might have a breakdown right here in the middle of the street. He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze before setting his gaze on the two jerks.

“Say that one more time.”

His eyes narrow as he conjures unforgiving shards of ice from his right side.

The two guys run away in fear.

Since that incident, you feel the overwhelming urge to throw a cap on and hide the hair you were once so confident in.

You ask Todoroki when you’re checking your hair out in the mirror if he prefers you with short or long hair.

“I prefer you.”

Todoroki is clueless about how to address the situation. He misses your confident persona and your carefree smile.

The whole week you feel like someone’s watching you; following you to class - and you must be going crazy because you swear you see camera flashes. How creepy if someone’s taking pictures of you... 👀

You walk to your dorm after class, prepared to watch movies all weekend, when you spot a photo album sitting on your bed.

What the heck is a photo album doing on your bed?

You flip through it to find photos of you. They must’ve been taken from a distance and would explain the weird feelings and camera flashes.

“So I wasn’t imagining it…”

You see yourself smiling with Mina and Ochako in the lounge, laughing with Kirishima and Kaminari during lunch, and you smirking when you landed the winning blow during a training exercise with Bakugou.

“You like it?”

You jump and turn to find Todoroki watching you intently.

Oh thank god. You were kinda scared there was a serial killer after you.

“Um… I appreciate the gesture? But… why?”

“To show you how pretty you look.”

Todoroki flips through the pages and shows you the different pictures, pointing out what he likes about each one.

“There’s no reason for you to be insecure, Y/N, look at you, you’re beautiful.”

You’re touched at the effort Todoroki put into proving how much he adored you, even if the execution was a bit weird.

“Thank you, Shouto, I… I needed this.” You wrap your hands around his neck and peck his lips.

“You’re welcome, Y/N.”

“But we do need to talk about you taking pictures of me like a stalker.”

Todoroki cocks his head like taking pictures from a distance without your consent never occurred to him. You shake your head and smile at his cluelessness.

You pull him down for another kiss and when he runs his fingers through your hair; it brings a smile to your lips.

Kirishima Eijirou

You’re not one to back down from a dare.

“You’re gonna regret it,” Kirishima says.

“Bet!”

Yeah… you regretted it the moment you looked in the mirror, Kaminari’s reflection looking sheepish with a pair of scissors in his hand. Tufts of hair, your hair that was just on your head a moment ago, now on the floor.

You know those scenes in movies where someone screams and each shot zooms further and further out until they’re screaming so loud it can be heard from outer space? Yeah, that’s basically what happens.

Everyone rushes down wondering who the hell got murdered in the middle of the night.

Bakugou calls you an idiot, Midoriya gives you words of encouragement, and Aizawa-sensei is just… done.

Kirishima will 100% help you style your hair. He knows more about hair than all your girlfriends combined.

He even convinces you to dye your hair bc why not at this point. But you’re not sure since you’ve never dyed your hair.

“Do you trust me?”

Well, you can’t argue with that.

Oh and if anyone tries to come for you about your hair, you bet Kiri will shut that down real quick. He’s not taking shit from anyone, especially when it comes to you.

Kiri loves to leave you little notes every morning with positive quotes like “Remember to smile!” or “You can do it!” They’re cheesy, but it gives you a confidence boost needed to get through the day.

This boy knows more about dealing with one’s self-image than anyone. He will be there for you every step of the way. If you need to rant, he will listen. If you need to cry, he’ll offer his shoulder. If you need encouragement, he’ll whisper sweet nothings into your ear until you believe it.

He’ll play with your hair and you let him style your hair for fun with gel until it's spiky like his.

It makes you realize that it’s only hair and it’ll grow back. May as well have some good laughs so you have a fun story to tell later in life 😊

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spices-and-cherries · 4 years

Text

SFW alphabet for Joe Bang

I’ve actually been working on this bad boy for a while now. Surprisingly, some of these were pretty hard to write and required some thinking...

I did not reference race, gender, sexuality, or physical appearance. If I missed something, please let me know so I can change it!

Warning: mention of explosives and sex

A= Affectionate (How affectionate are they?)

He’s super affectionate all the time with you. He calls you ‘baby doll’ or ‘sweet thang’. He’s a believer in PDA and always has an arm around you (it’s probably more of a possessive thing than anything else).

B= Beginning (How would the relationship start?)

You’d kinda already be dating before either one of you asks the question. You were introduced by a mutual and hit it off - before you knew it you were going on car rides in the middle of the night or drinking together at Duck Tape. No matter what, though, if someone asks, Joe will tell them it was love at first sight.

C= Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Joe really loves his cuddles on the couch. He enjoys having you either laying on top of him or snuggled into his side while watching TV. He also doesn’t care if he’s the little spoon.

He doesn’t really care if there are other people around either. Joe will just pull you down with him or tug you closer mid-conversation.

D= Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He does his fair share of the work without complaining. He comes from a big enough family, so cleaning and cooking comes naturally to him. That being said, his cooking does leave much to be desired seeing as hard-boiling eggs is his only forte...

At the beginning of your relationship, you kept sleeping over at each other’s places so it was the obvious decision to move in with him. You help with yardwork and maintenance.

E= Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He doesn’t seem like the type to end things unless its really bad or if there’s no way around it (like you got a job far away). In all honesty, you’d probably leave him.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

It would take a while - you’d have to be together for almost a decade before he even thinks about it. Either way, he likes things the way they are and doesn’t feel the need to hurry anything up. It kinda already feels like you’re already married.

G= Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Joe, to put it kindly, is rough around the edges. He’s soft and careful one moment and acting tough the next. That being said, he knows his own strength and always makes sure that he doesn’t accidentally hurt you. He may act nonchalant about it, but everyone can tell he treats you differently than everyone else.

In terms of emotions, he’s not the one you want to go to for a heart to heart. That’s not to say he can’t have one, it’s just that he doesn’t like it when conversations get too serious.

H= Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He’s a one-armed hug kind of guy, especially in public. He’s not much of a hugger.

Joe also really, really loves it when you hug him from behind - his face lights up and he smiles when you poke your head from under his arm.

I= I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

A few months - a year at the most - will go by before he says anything. When he does say it, it’ll be out of the blue. You’ll probably be out on his porch drinking beer and talking. Joe would just pause and turn to you as he says it. It might also be while you’re causing some mischief or doing something wild.

Joe shows his love through action and presumes you already know.

J= Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Joe gets jealous very easily. If the two of you are out and he sees someone getting a little too close to you, he’ll come up from behind with his arm around your waist or back. He’ll either divert your attention to him by whispering some nonsensical jokes in your ear to make you giggle or tell you that something’s happening and you should come with. Near the beginning of your relationship, Joe might’ve been quick to try and show off (if it worked, you’d never tell).

K= Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Joe is an all or nothing kind of guy. If you try to be cute by kissing him on the cheek, he’ll pull you to him and tell you that you hit the wrong target. That being said, he really loves it when you kiss him on the cheek - there’s just something about it that makes him feel fuzzy inside.

L= Little ones (How are they around children?)

Kids love him, but their parents don’t. Since he’s on the same wavelength as a five-year old, it’s easy for him to connect with children. The problem is, leave them alone for half a minute and he’s trying to teach them how to light a match or make a molotov. All that being said, he doesn’t want his own kids. They’re too much of a hassle and he doesn’t think he could ever settle down like that.

M= Mornings (How are mornings spent with them?)

Cuddles and sex.

N= Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Cuddles and sex.

O= Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He’s super open about somethings and super not about others. His family, for example, is something that he’s fine talking about and does it often. But any trauma or bad memories are things he doesn’t want to dwell on.

The first time that you did have a long heart-to-heart was on the porch of Duck Tape while drinking. The two of you were just leaning against the railing, looking at the stars, talking about this and that. Something about the air that night made it feel as though that you were the only ones in the world, so he was a lot more open than usual.

P= Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Unless he’s in a hurry for whatever reason or just got up on the wrong side of the bed, he’s pretty chill. When he does get annoyed, he tries hard to not direct it at you, but that doesn’t always work out. That being said, you almost never fight. You’ve built up a steady rhythm and have learned how to spot the tells when one of you is not doing too good.

If he drops something or is tired, I would not suggest helping him out. He’s just fine and what ever it is, it’s nothing a few curse words can’t fix.

Q= Quizzes (Who much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

His memory is surprisingly good. It’s not the best (selective even), but not ban considering. He doesn’t remember every little thing by a long shot, but he does pay attention.

R= Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

When you took him to a tattoo parlor to get matching tattoos as a surprise or when the two of you went on an impromptu road-trip and got lost.

S= Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Joe is super protective, especially at the beginning of your relationship. As a big brother and being slightly stronger than the average man, he feels somewhat responsible for your safety. He can get aggressive if he needs to, but he tries not to, especially when you’re around. That doesn’t always work of course and you might have to keep some band-aids in the glove compartment...

Your presence alone is all he needs. As long as he knows that he can fall back into your arms, he’s fine. You don’t have to do anything - in fact just setting his eyes on you has helped him more times than you realize.

T= Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

When it comes to gift giving, he’s not very good. Like at all. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t try, but let’s just say that his brothers should be the last people he needs to go to for brainstorming...

U= Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Those damn eggs. Also, he thinks it’s funny when he tries to kiss you while he’s all sweaty from working out.

V= Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks? Do your looks bother them?)

He’s pretty confident in his looks and definitely thinks that his tattoos make him look sexy.

Joe loves it when you dress up for him - it makes him feel special. Besides that, though, he thinks that you can wear whatever you want to.

W= Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He might not at first, but that changes pretty quickly once he realizes that you’re already pulling out of the driveway. Even if you’re gone for one night, please call him. He’ll be eying his phone all day.

X= Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He’s both spontaneous and not. Joe likes doing things for the sake of doing things, but if you’re planning on doing something, he likes to make sure that there’s an agenda. It can be super short, sweet and simple, he just needs to know that everyone’s on the right page. You don’t even need to tell him what it is half the time, just that it exists.

Y= Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He likes people who are smart and have personality. Joe doesn’t really understand why anyone would want to change themselves for others.

He also doesn’t appreciate having his food taken...

Z= Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs? Does it change around a partner?)

He snores pretty loud and has a bad tendency to steal the blankets. Besides that, he doesn’t move around a lot and sleeps like a log.

Please send me any and all constructive feedback as well as requests! I love seeing your comments as well! Side note, I just started watching Hotel Splendide with Daniel Craig and Toni Collette. It’s good but I don’t think Craig and yoga do well together... Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this and, as always, see you in the next one!

- Simpy

#joe bang x reader #joe bang #x reader #daniel craig #logan lucky #fluff #sfw headcanons #sfw #established relationship #domestic bliss #fanfic #fanfiction #movie #movie characters #southern accent

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fides-regnat-aeterna · 3 years

Text

Hanahanu Reborn

"Bring him in," a voice announced. It was strong, albeit a bit concentrated in the nose. It was one that wouldn't be too out of place within his home Legion. But here? It was one of the many markers that made him so distinct from his newfound kin.

"Yes, lord," a second voice said, a figure bowing and moving from the threshold of the door that was barely cracked open. This one was firm, a bit hardened by yelling orders to his warriors, though a note of unease was easily able to be noticed. The figure was dressed in full warplate, crimson and edged in steel, with the armor itself carved and inset with symbols taken from the Book of Lorgar. Upon one pauldron sat the icon of his Legion, the Latros Sacrum, and on the other sat the icon of his Host, a bloodied handprint over a leatherbound book. The Host had no grand title or name -- few did, nowadays -- and was simply known as the 17th Host. He was bare headed, with tanned skin, black hair styled with an undercut swept to one side, and dark eyes that betrayed his worries. His name was An-Ishkur, and he had been asked to assist in the rejoining process for his brothers within the Legion.

He strode into an adjacent chamber, where a number of warriors bearing similarly-colored warplate currently sat. It was quite barren, as the newly-named Master of Possession had asked it to be, with benches lining the walls and warding sigils carved into the pale walls. The floor was a mosaic of white and black, marking out the sacred octed beneath their feet. The warriors within tried not to show their overt discomfort. Most were able to mask it well. But some were pawing at their faces, snarling with annoyance, tapping their foot, or reciting prayers and litanies under their breath. Within each one sat a creature of the Empyrean, one of the revered Neverborn. Daemons, as many called them.

"Hanahanu Elil," An-Ishkur said from the doorway. A few heads came up, and he locked eyes with the one who was destined to go next. "Your time has come, brother." The eyes looking back at him were a tawny grey tinged with amber, a testament to how much the daemon within had changed him. He was just surprised to see that Elil was able to even take his helm off -- several of the other Legionnaires could not. The face looking back was darker than his own, with the same handsome, almost patrician features found amongst most of the Legion. His hair was a short, messy crop of black that almost edged on a very dark grey. He reached a gauntleted hand up to brush some of it aside.

"We're ready," Elil said, standing. As he spoke, An-Ishkur noticed his teeth were becoming sharper. If all went well, like it seemed to with the two who had gone before, then hopefully the beast within could be quelled.

Hopefully.

An-Ishkur nodded, making a gesture and leading him to the door. The door itself was decorated and ornamented, with some more recent carvings and wards having made permanent marks within its surface.

He raised a hand to knock, before the man within impatiently said, "I know who you are and who you are with, just get him in here."

The two traded glances, and An-Ishkur shook his head before opening the door and allowing Hanahanu in first. The room still smelled of burning flesh, blood, and incense. The only other figures within the vaulted chamber was an Astartes clad in robes of red and white, followed by two smaller robed humans as he renewed the circles and prepared for his next experiment. The room was approximately fifty feet on a side, with braziers of burning incense set about ten feet apart to the duo's left and right. Towards the front of the room sat a raised dais with a lectern, and upon it sat a book bound in skin with yellowed pages. An-Ishkur suppressed a shiver as his eyes passed over the book. Something... else felt as though it brushed his consciousness as he did.

The man in robes finished speaking an invocation and finally drew himself up, turning to face the two newcomers. With the two of them arrayed in battle plate, it almost made him look smaller and slighter in comparison. He was still formidable compared to the two humans beside him. He brushed aside his sandy-colored hair, his odd sky blue eyes staring into Hanahanu. He clasped his sun-kissed hands together, a smile plain on his face.

"Well, Hanahanu Elil, it is my pleasure to formally meet you," he said. An-Ishkur had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "And a pleasure to meet your partner as well. Do they have a name?"

"Hersyaf," Hanahanu growled, his teeth half bared. He shook himself out, closing his eyes and letting out a breath. "... Hersyaf. He calls himself Hersyaf."

"Hersyaf," the man said with a nod. "I am Zikar-Sin. Formerly of the Thousand Sons, now taking the position of your new Master of Possession as the Apostle wills."

Formerly was an interesting word to use. To An-Ishkur, it was blatantly obvious that he had not entirely eschewed the ways of his old Legion, and that he still considered himself one of them.

"Do you know why I have called upon you, Hanahanu-Hersyaf?" Zikar-Sin asked.

"You want to make us more 'whole'," the warrior answered. An-Ishkur could hear the growls of the beast under the careful voice of his friend and brother. An-Ishkur looked to him, trying to hide his worry.

"Are you sure you want to volunteer? Maybe you should wait until we know it works," he had said when the sorcerer had first announced his intentions.

"An-Ishkur, we've been over this. If something isn't done, Hersyaf is just going to take over and rend us apart anyway. This can be a chance to give us true balance, rather than having this more..." Hanahanu trailed off. "... parasitic relationship we have together."

"Hopefully it won't be more than a few weeks of waiting and testing," An-Ishkur protested. He sighed. "Look, I get it. Hersyaf is getting stronger and bolder, but he's always been a bit of an arrogant blow-hard. It hasn't always been easy calming you down."

"That's the point," Hanahanu said. "This can make it so I can have more control, too. That way we both benefit, and the bond is less one-sided. I don't want to just be a vessel to feed a daemon, An-Ishkur. I am my own man, with my own thoughts and my own devotions of the Powers."

"I know, I know. I'm just worried something will go wrong."

"And if it does, I know you'll be there to take care of me." Hanahanu rested a hand on his brother's shoulder. "We've been side-by-side ever since we first strode the sands of Colchis as aspirants. And we've been there for each other in all other miserable exploits of ours. Remember the wine raid in Tizca?"

"Hey, that was your idea," An-Ishkur replied, finally breaking into a small smile. "But that was much different to this."

"Even though we had one of our cousins scolding us for ages afterwards?"

"Hanu, come on. I know you want to make light of this, but this is a serious decision."

"I know it is. And I know why I've made it." Hanahanu removed his hand. "It's for the benefit of us both. Even if Hersyaf is impatient and doesn't want to admit it, we spent some time discussing it and we both agreed." He offered his friend a kind smile. "But I appreciate the concern." An-Ishkur tried to smile back, but he knew it read false. His expression turned into obvious concern as his brother walked back to his own personal chambers to prepare for what was to come.

"I am indeed." The words of the sorcerer shocked him out of his memories. "I am going to make sure that both of you can co-exist in a mutually beneficial relationship. Already, two of your kinsmen have walked away as one. I can see the strife within you both." He reached up one hand, reaching towards Hanahanu. He growled and gnashed his teeth at him.

"Sorcerer," he hissed.

"Hanu," An-Ishkur said. "Please." The other warrior turned, his eyes looking unfocused for a number of moments, his face locked into a snarl. It took some effort for him to nod. An-Ishkur's concern only grew.

"Ah. Feisty one. Not an uncommon reaction," Zikar-Sin said. "Well. We should be getting started, now shouldn't we?" He turned his body and gestured to the center of a number of concentric rings. Hanahanu looked apprehensive of them, but An-Ishkur nodded his approval. Once more, there was a pause before he moved, carefully avoiding the salt and chalk that marked them out on the ground. Once he was standing, the Master of Possession made a gesture for him to sit. Hanahanu obeyed. "You may wish to put on your helm. Or don't, it's not very relevant to me," he said to An-Ishkur. An-Ishkur nodded, trying to give his brother a smile one last time.

"I'll see you on the other side, then."

"We'll be made as one," Hanahanu said with a nod. An-Ishkur took the helm at his belt and fit it over his head, taking in the new view behind his jade-colored eye lenses.

"You will be called if you are required," Zikar-Sin told him. "Close the door on the way out, don't pay attention to the whispers, blah blah blah, this is your third time hearing me say this." He made a dismissive gesture towards An-Ishkur as he moved towards the lectern. An-Ishkur was glad the helm could hide his face, so the sorcerer couldn't see his grimace and his eyeroll.

He moved back towards the entrance of the chamber, casting one last look over his shoulder at his brother as he knelt there. Once again, they locked eyes, but instead of only seeing the eyes of the man he'd known for centuries, something else looked back at him, too. With a breath, he left the room, letting the great door creak close behind him.

It was eighty minutes before they opened again.

Eighty long, torturous minutes. Eighty minutes holding a vigil at the door, one hand planted on the pommel of the chansword belted at his side. Eighty minutes left wondering if anything would go wrong, wondering if his brother would be the one to fail. He never had the control his predecessors had over his daemon -- Hersyaf was infamous for his hungers and rages, and notoriously difficult and reluctant to relinquish control -- so would this process even work?

His answer would come to him in a way he had dreaded since Hanahanu had volunteered himself for the process.

A ghastly, snarling howl erupted from the room behind him. An-Ishkur moved, drawing the chainsword as he faced the shut doors. From within he could already smell flesh cooking, and he could hear the chanting of Zikar-Sin within. He stood there, tense and waiting, for fifteen seconds.

+GET IN HERE AND HELP ME!+ a voice thundered through his mind. An-Ishkur doubled over from the force of it, clutching his helm, but he soldiered on and threw the doors open wide, his chainsword revving.

He froze at what he saw.

Within the circles, with blood covering its ragged maw, stood a beast. Its head was lupine in form, with large fangs and teeth that constantly salivated, milky blind eyes, and spines starting from its forehead and continuing down its body. The armor of the beast was the same deep crimson of An-Ishkur's own, though it had been moved and formed into natural armor. Mangled fur sprouted from where the plates had buckled, sitting atop mutated musculature. Its arms were twice as long as they should've been, the hands having grown to triple their natural size and ending with curved and wicked claws. A long, almost serpentine tail, ending in a wicked thagomizer lashed. The legs were armored, wolf-like in form, with claws sprouting from the crimson ceramite boots. One of the circles was pulsing a sickly pattern of red. Zikar-Sin had a trail of blood coming down one side of his face, his clothing a messy ruin. The only other figure was a robed human, who was cowering away in the corner.

The bloodied rag of a robe that laid at the feet of the beast was all that remained of their companion.

The beast let out another ragged howling snarl, its sightless eyes staring into the ceiling.

"What have you done?" An-Ishkur demanded.

"It was not me! The daemon was too strong, it overpowered his soul!" Zikar-Sin shouted. He wiped blood from his forehead, drawing himself up and keeping his hands loose before him. "Thanks to the wonderful thralls provided to me, it was able to breach one of the wards against my distinct command!"

"It seems your thrall has paid the price for it."

"Thank you for stating the obvious, now help me!" Zikar-Sin said with an eyeroll. An-Ishkur approached the raging monster, keeping his weapon leveled at it.

"Hanahanu Elil!" he spoke, keeping his voice as strong as he could. "I know you are in there, brother. Hear me! Come back to us! We shall try again at a different time!"

"We are not using that weakling's name!" the beast spoke, resting its weight on its hands. Its tail lashed.

"You can speak?" An-Ishkur asked, lowering his weapon. He glanced to Zikar-Sin. "What shall we call you?"

"I am HERSYSAF!" he roared. "WE shall be HERSYAF! Not a weakling, soul-bound MORTAL!"

"Where is my brother?"

"I am your brother now, Captain An-Ishkur," Hersyaf practically purred. It came down to rest its weight on its hands. "The bitter whelp is going to be sleeping for a while. But I like him enough to not destroy him entirely. Not yet. He feeds me well." The two locked eyes. Through the milky film, An-Ishkur could swear he saw the same old tawny eyes of his oldest friend looking back. Hidden. Repressed. Pleading. The creature grinned, and An-Ishkur turned on Zikar-Sin.

"You have explaining to do. Lots of it." He revved his weapon, anger clear in his voice and in his posture as he stalked over to the sorcerer. "Start talking, or I'll rend you open myself. What have you done?"

"Those are questions best left answered for me, Captain," said a dangerous and deceptively soft voice from the doorway. Both An-Ishkur and Zikar-Sin diverted their eyes to the floor. An-Ishkur dropped to a knee.

"My Apostle," he practically whispered.

"Captain. You may look up, your obedience has been recognized." Eyes of flint locked onto the robed Master of Possession. "Zikar-Sin. I sensed that something had become altered," said the newcomer. "Look at me."

"Yes, lord," said the sorcerer, his voice actually sounding shaken, for once. Both looked up to see the unarmored form of the Dark Apostle of the Host, flanked by four members of the Annointed. Even Hersyaf seemed to be attentive, his nose sniffing at the air. A soft whine came from him.

"We shall discuss the ramifications of this failure and you shall discuss how this happened with me," the Apostle stated.

"Aposte Ans'ar, I-"

"You," he said, shifting his attention. "Captain."

"Yes, lord?"

"You know the brother whom we have lost?"

"Not yet lost," An-Ishkur said quickly. "I-I can still see him, my lord, though he has been pushed down. I think I can help save him."

"Do you?" His head was gently cocked to one side, his eyes intense and searching. He glanced back at the creature stuck beyond the wards.

"I do, Apostle." An-Ishkur nodded. There was silence. The tension was palpable. He could hear Hersyaf clawing at the ground.

"Then he shall be put under your command, if we decide he is to live." Ans'ar crossed his arms, making a gesture to one of the heavy-plated Terminators behind him. "Zikar-Sin, you are to come with us. You will explain what blasphemies you have created."

"Yes, Apostle," Zikar-Sin replied. The two Annointed came forward, with one seizing his arms and putting them behind his back.

"As for you," the Apostle once more looked to An-Ishkur. "You and your coterie may begin the rites of mourning. The Legion will join you." He turned to leave, but the captain's voice stopped him.

"Apostle, if I may?"

The Apostle stopped. "Speak, Captain."

"Please, let him live. Hanahanu and I have been together since we were aspirants. I know I can reach him. I know he's still in there. I can deal with Hersyaf. I promised him I would help him, no matter what happened."

The silence that followed made him feel as though he was balancing on the blade of a knife.

"Very well," the Apostle said with a small sigh. "If this is what you wish to pursue."

"It is."

"I can reverse this!" Zikar-Sin called as he was being taken away.

"Silence, sorcerer," Ans'ar called after him. "Then he shall be considered a member of your coterie. If he acts in a way that puts the Legion at jeopardy, he will be punished."

"As would any of us," An-Ishkur said quickly.

"Indeed," the Apostle agreed. He turned once more, making another gesture as he walked out with the Annointed, leaving An-Ishkur alone with Hersyaf in the circle.

"He wanted union," Hersyaf said in a snarling whisper. "He wanted the two to become one. And, well..." he grinned. His acidic saliva splattered and hissed on the salt making up the wards. "This is what our unity looks like."

An-Ishkur watched his Apostle leave, standing and facing Hersyaf. "Hanu never would've wanted this. But I swore to him I would help him no matter what."

"When did I ever say it was he who desired this unity?" the daemon asked with an all-too-knowing grin.

#3k words on the dot #hello this account exists lmao #will be shilling on main and other side blog #moonclaw writes #legion lore

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frodos-bizarre-adventure · 3 years

Text

@gingerreggg bust au brainrot is real

Heads Up- Part 6 (Joseph x Bust! Caesar)

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

Suzi awoke on the sofa with a start. It was already late at night, and the TV was still on, already halfway through showing yet another Fast and the Furious sequel. The living room was dimly lit, though she could clearly see Joseph crouched next to her with a concerned expression on his face.

"It's...it's Caesar," he sighed. "He's quite upset."

Rising from the couch in a worried hurry, Suzi made her way over to the front door, and was greeted with the sight of Caesar, his neck base covered in mud and dirt and the most bitter expression on his face.

"Caesar?" she asked, bending down, trying to maintain eye contact, despite Caesar trying to look away. "Did you try to run away?"

"I can only bounce," Caesar joked half-heartedly. "I don't have feet."

"Well, did you try to bounce away?" she asked again, with the patience of a kind schoolteacher.

Caesar sighed, knowing that trying to break the tension with his usual dry humor wouldn't work.

"There's a big world out there and I'm not even allowed to see it," Caesar lamented. "I'm alive, but I'm just stuck in this little house, because no one can know I exist."

"I just want to be free," he said, somewhat impulsively.

"Look, Caesar, we're just worried about you, okay?" Joseph told his sculpture. "We're just afraid that someone would discover you and take you away. And we can't have that, can we? You're a prized creation I worked so hard on. You're a living, talking miracle. And most importantly, Caesar... you're my friend."

"You're precious in so many different ways," Suzi added.

Without a further word Caesar bowed his head sadly, and began to hop toward Joseph's room.

Joseph couldn't help but notice, however, that Caesar winced and groaned with every hop. It wasn't his usual grunts of effort. He sounded hurt.

"Caesar, let me check on you, will ya?" he asked, walking over to Caesar's side. Gently lifting him up --with Caesar too upset to retaliate-- he inspected the bust's underside, and grimaced.

"Now look what you've did to yourself, Caesar. You've chipped away your paint and got sand into your skin. I'm gonna have to clean and fix you up," he said with a frown.

------

Suzi watched as Joseph worked all night, repairing Caesar's damage that he'd sustained during his little trek in the yard. He skillfully used delicate carving tools and wet brushes to clear away the debris that had stuck themselves to Caesar's underside.

Caesar was leaned backwards against a wooden stand, so that Joseph could inspect his underside without having to lay him down and risking flattening his facial features. Caesar was not too pleased, however, and winced painfully and complained as Joseph got to work.

"I guess he doesn't appreciate you meddling with his butt," Suzi mused.

"I don't have a butt," Caesar grumbled.

"Well, I mean it sort of is your bottom, isn't it? Which would mean that you're technically sitting whenever you're upright..." she pondered.

"Don't you go overthinking everything too much," Caesar retorted, scrunching up his face at the sting of a splinter being pulled out of his base. "I know me existing at all raises a lot of questions I'd rather not answer."

Joseph, however, was more concerned about the fact that Caesar's underside was able to feel pain. "This is why we don't go barefoot on rough ground, Caesar."

Caesar rolled his eyes, as he often did with Joseph and his antics around. "What are you gonna do? Make me wear one big shoe?"

Despite the seriousness of the situation, the mental image was funny enough to elicit a smile from both artists.

"Maybe," snarked Joseph in response, smirking.

Once Caesar's underside was clean, Joseph commenced on repainting it. He coated the base with a pale flesh tone, identical to the shade of the rest of Caesar's clay skin, and, with a few minutes of drying, Caesar looked good as new.

"Hold on, there's one more thing I ought to do," Joseph said, shaking a can of spray-on varnish. "Cover your noses everyone! Uh...or maybe just me and Suzi."

"I don't breathe but I can smell!" Caesar yelled, but too late to block out the harsh scent. Caesar groaned and wrinkled his face in disgust.

With a few loud spritzes and a few moments more for the clear varnish to harden, Joseph finally lifted Caesar back onto the floor. "So, what do you think? Does it still hurt?"

Caesar made a few experimental hops.

"Huh, it doesn't," he said, testing his newly-varnished base like a child with a new pair of sneakers. His thumps sounded a bit squeakier, and he could still feel the texture of the floor, but he felt less of the rough friction of the ground that rubbed against his bottom.

"This varnish should protect your butt in case you go scraping yourself around again. Not that you should be doing that to begin with, anyway." Joseph instructed.

"Yeah, sure," Caesar huffed. "And for the last goddamn time, I don't have a butt."

------

It was early the next morning when Suzi sat on the couch, lazily flipping through channels, when she saw Caesar squeakily hopping across the floor past her.

Her curiosity sparked, and she couldn't resist asking.

"Do you find hopping around on your neck difficult? I've seen you hop around all day and it looks like a tiring way to get around," she said, with a bit of pity.

Caesar twitched his rudimentary shoulders in what was his equivalent of a shrug. "It's the only way I am able to move, so I'm not complaining. I'm just glad I'm even able to move around at all," he said matter-of-factly.

"Besides, there isn't really much else for me to do, anyway. Hop over here, hop over there, bounce around until Joseph wants something to do with me, it's quite boring, really."

"Say, I've got some books to pass the time," Suzi said, seating herself down. Caesar eagerly hopped over to her side as she pulled out a book from her bag. "You do know how to read, don't you?" she asked Caesar.

"I can," Caesar replied. "I mean, I've only been alive less than a week, but yeah, somehow I can read."

"Really?" Suzi said, intrigued, as she presented him a book on Greek mythology from her literature class. "So there are things you just...know? Like how to speak fluent English? What places and things are called? Joseph's name, maybe?"

"Actually, he was wearing a nametag with 'Joseph' on it when we met, when I first awoke." Caesar corrected.

"But do you remember anything before that?"

Caesar's face went blank for a moment.

"Nothing. I may remember what things are, what words mean, but about me..." His voice just trailed away, and he shook his head sadly.

Suzi's attention was caught by a loud snoring from Joseph's room.

"Poor fella," Suzi said. "He was working really hard to fix you last night. He must be exhausted. He hasn't had a wink of sleep."

Caesar hummed regrettably. He couldn't help but felt guilty at having made Joseph labor all evening to repair the damages of his recklessness.

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

That afternoon, as Joseph and Suzi sat at the dining table enjoying their lunch, Joseph decided to bring up a topic that everyone had been awkwardly skirting around since the beginning.

"Caesar has no body." Joseph said.

"Well, no shit, Sherlock," Caesar quipped, like he did the first day, from the living room floor. He was absorbed in Suzi's mythology book, using his nose to flip through the pages.

"Well, he's seemed to have gotten used to it," Suzi pondered. "He's gotten pretty independent."

"Yes, but he's just a head, and it's my fault! I created him!" Joseph said repentantly. "I wish there was something I could do about it."

Suzi raised an eyebrow. "You mean...make him a body?"

Joseph looked over to the living room, where he saw Caesar struggling to adjust the position of the book with his chin.

"It's the right thing to do, I guess. But...how?"

"We're gonna need clay. Lots of it. And I think I might know just the place."

-----------

(Previous Chapter)

(Next Chapter)

#jjba #gingerreggg #jojo's bizarre adventure #battle tendency #caesar x joseph #caejose #hands of life au #bust!caesar #sculptor!joseph #heads up

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bonesthebeloved · 4 years

Text

Loud talking, mushy thoughts

Trigger/squick warning: UNSYMPATHETIC VIRGIL, PATTON AND LOGAN, shouting (caps), Crying, dismissal of feelings, selfdoubt, mild violence (Remus knocks roman out) threatening of violence, mention of minor injury (very brief) manipulative behaviour (if I forgot anything please do let me know)

Summary: Roman goes to live with Remus and Deceit after being mistreated by his 'family' for so long.

(not beta read)

"WHY THE HELL IS YOUR BROTHER UNCONSCIOUS ON OUR COUCH REMUS?!"

"He was crying! I didn't know what else to do!"

"Knock everyone BUT HIM out maybe?"

A long pause, followed by Remus slowly widening his eyes in realisation. "Ohhhhhh."

Deceit let go of a frustrated sigh. Pinching the bridge of his nose and looking the still very much knocked out Prince messily displayed on their livingroom couch.

"Satan give me strength."

Roman was... Not having a good day. To put it lightly.

To put it not lightly would be saying that he was having a horrendous day and that everything that was able to go wrong, seemed to be doing just that.

He'd not been able to sleep the night before and, when looking in the mirror, had promptly decided that he'd rather not face the person on the other side and covered it up with a duvet that had needed a washing for a good few days now but that he had simply not gotten the time or energy to wash yet.

He'd gotten dressed and taken his first step on the stairs. And then his second one. And then his third.

By the seventh step he miscalculated and lost his balance, skipping over steps eight to fourteen and landing with a series of thuds and a surprised shout of pain at the very bottom.

When getting up, he noticed that all three other sides were in the room with him and staring. Virgil shrugging right as they made eyecontact and turning around again. Logan, rather dramatically, rolling his eyes and turning the page of the book he was reading and Patton, after taking a step towards him and seeming to think it over in his mind, shaking his head and returning to cleaning up three breakfast plates off the table.

They'd started, and evidently finished, eating breakfast without him.

He'd taken an apple out of the fridge and decided that would do for breakfast and, after wanting to settle down on the couch but being given a stern look from Logan which was so vocal he could almost hear it say 'don't you have work to do?' he retreated back to his room. To his little desk with empty coffeemug and too much paper in the bin, to work on his ideas.

That is, he would have done so. If he'd come up with even a single good one.

He thought he had! Oh, he'd had three beautifully worked out and handcrafted ideas for future projects in his hand when he'd gone downstairs again.

He thought he had, until he'd handed them to Logan who had looked over his black frames and had very slowly raised a single eyebrow as he read on.

He'd returned to his room with the three perfectly sculpt ideas punched into a muddy lumpy mush. A mush that would, as soon as he slammed the door shut just loud enough for it to send vibrations through the wooden flooring he was standing on, land in the bin next to the other mushy ideas that he hadn't even dared to show Logan.

It hadn't been a good day, that day. With Patton finally bringing up the wedding and questioning him about why I'm the world he'd wanted to go to the callback. He spoke like it was a police interrogation rather than a friendly discussion and Roman felt himself slowly move back on how chair until it was balancing on two legs only.

It hadn't been a good day because Virgil, as soon as he'd gotten wind of the conversation, began to talk to him so loudly Roman asked him to stop shouting. But Virgil said he wasn't shouting so he continued to very loudly talk and ask him why he was siding with Deceit. Why he was trusting that monster and why he was acting so self-absorbed lately. Patton went on to ask why he was being so selfish. The soft question hitting harder than all of Virgil's loud talking could ever do, leaving his self-image broken and bruised crying inside of him to stop, stop please stop!

It hadn't been a good day to put it lightly because now he was sitting in the livingroom, all of the others there but miles away and all of them sitting frozen. Unmoving and unmotivated to do so in the near future as Remus sat down next to him.

"What's wrong brother mine? Did somebody die? Did you accidentally drown your pet squirrel again?"

There was no again. There wasn't even a squirrel because that was very much not the reason for his being close to tears but Remus didn't know that. And Remus was trying to help in his own special way and his brother could apprechiate that. Did appreciate it very much infact.

But when he was sitting in the same room as the reasons for his being glum, with his brother poking the sore spots on his ego over and over again, the apprechiation lessened to something more resembling a stiff nod of acknowledgement.

"Did somebody hurt your feelings? Did Poor Pattycakes make you feel selfish again? He's still upset about you siding with double Dee's isn't he? Oh! Or maybe Logan said your ideas were stupid like he did to me! Is that it Roro?"

Roman wanted to say something. The something he wanted to say at the moment was a loud and repeated yes. But instead he sat silently. Head bowed and eyes sneakily on the other sides. They all acted like nothing was wrong. The documentary on the TV currently explaining what exactly bombs were filled with and how they filled them.

"Oh maybe Veve was being a big meanie again too! Did he shout at you? Oh I remember how loud his shouting could get. Your ears must hurt because of it, don't they Ro?"

The TV was explaining how the fuse was inserted and made to stay in place as Roman bawled his fists.

"Oh but maybe it's not only today right? Dee told me that they don't listen to you. Is that true Roro? Do the mean 'light sides' not listen to you? That must hurt a lot. I bet you're really doubting your purpose as a side right now aren't you? I bet you-"

And as the TV showed how the fuse was lit and the bomb exploded, Roman burst into tears.

The reactions were as he thought they'd be. Concern, from a small part of the room. And disgust and dismissal from the other 3/5th of it.

Remus had taken his hands off his brothers shoulder and arm like he'd suddenly become glowing hot. Brows knitted in confusion and mouth slightly open from the shock that his brothers sudden outburst had installed in him.

The other three, instead, acted very much like his brother wasn't fully breaking down on the other end of the couch.

Logan simply took the remote and turned up the volume of the TV so he could hear the commentators announce their next topic being how stained glass is manufactured and turning towards the TV with a nonchalance of a man knowing he's doing the right thing by turning the other cheek.

Patton let out a sigh and, after rolling his eyes dramatically, almost theatrically, he simply said 'stop being dramatic Roman. You're fine.' before getting up to refill his teacup.

Virgil scoffed at the crying Prince as if his tears were personally insulting him and just stared him down in the hopes that this tactic would shut him up.

But Roman didn't, shaking now, nose running and tears making the most quiet pat pat pat sound as they landed on his trousers, creating light grey stains on the pure white pants.

More comments like Patton's first one were thrown his way. Some half-heartedly thrown like an Un-enthusiastic kid in highschool. Some curved balled his way so hard it would leave bruises.

And slowly Remus began to panic.

He panicked over why this was happening. Panicked over why his brother's friends didn't seem to care at all. Simply tried to stifle him. Shut him up so he wouldn't be a disturbance in their otherwise seemingly uneventful day.

Panicked, because his brother too, was now muttering the words 'it's fine. I'm fine it's fine I'm fine I'm fineimfineimfineimfine-' over and over again like a broken record or a pray circle chant and Remus panicked.

He panicked so much that he shouted 'I'm leaving!' right into his brothers ear, making him flinch, before quickly running towards the door.

He paused with his hand still on the doorknob.

Because he realised this wasn't good. He realised something important that he didn't quite know of yet. Didn't quite grasp onto yet but he realised it. And it wasn't good news.

So he panicked. Summoning his mace and knocking his brother square on the head. Roman sitting straight up for a split second due to the shock and then passing out fully. Falling forward, face first into the carpet and tear streaks down his face slowly coming to a stop.

The room was dead silent, most of them frozen in shock, one of them frozen due to being unconscious, as Remus grabbed his brothers legs and lifted him, with a bit of effort, over his shoulders.

The room stayed dead silent when he straightened himself, looking around with eyes slightly too wide and lips still unparted.

"I-... See ya!" He said quickly, before sinking out and into the hallway leading to his safe place. The place he was safe. The one he needed to bring his brother who hadn't seemed so safe in his own safe place.

Deceit was so close to loosing his sanity that he might as well throw those last few braincells in the bin aswell, he thought, as he looked at the body of Romano creativity 'Princey' Sanders, messily sprawled out over his livingroom couch.

"Remus, would you come here for a second buddy?"

Remus nodded, getting up from where he had been sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking at his brother laying there. Silently. Unmoving. Unconscious.

"Remus my dear. Would you please explain to mE WHAT HAPPENED?"

Remus tried to explain. Truly he did. But it's hard to explain when you still haven't quite gotten to realise what you realised. He knew it was important now. He knew it wasn't a positive thing too. It couldn't be, with Roman breaking down like that.

But Deceit hadn't slept well the previous night and, much like Roman, he hadn't had a good day. His was considerably less filled with humiliations and accusations. But he had spilled coffee over his favourite shirt and Remus had knocked over one of his cacti, smashing it's hand-painted pot so he was allowed to atleast mention it.

What followed was rather loud. Loud enough for Roman to stir in his un-wake and slowly start to wake up.

"WHY THE HELL IS YOUR BROTHER UNCONTIOUS ON OUR COUCH REMUS?!"

"He was crying! I didn't know what else to do!"

"Knock everyone BUT HIM out maybe?"

At Remus his noise of realisation Roman managed to crack an eye open. Finding he was laying on a rather soft couch in a rather dark room with rather loud company.

"Why was he crying then?" Deceit said, after letting go of another long sigh and trying to find a way to calm himself before he punched somebody, preferably Remus with how this conversation was going.

"I don't know! He looked like something was wrong and he wouldn't tell me what was wrong so I started guessing! The others acted like nothing was wrong though and that was weird."

Deceit sighed, took his hat of and flung it towards a corner of the room before combing his hands through his hair. Tugging at it once and facing Roman who was still laying on the couch.

"Roman I know you're awake. Why don't you tell me why you were crying and then I can decide if I need to kill either Remus or your precious family hm?"

Roman stayed silent as he slowly sat up straight. Fumbling with the cuffs on his sleeves, not meeting Deceit's eye.

Said side crouched down and said, in a much softer voice than Roman had ever heard him use (Remus did know it very well but as he didn't say we won't mention it) and softly called out for him.

"Hey, can you look at me please? We only want to help you Ro, I promise you that."

Roman nodded and, dropping the bravado he normally put on for a moment, he was truly being honest.

"Remus his guesses were... A bit too accurate. And I hadn't been having a great day and the others were just there acting like none of those things were true and I-" he cut himself off then, finding he'd choked up again. Deceit just reached out for him slowly. Hand hovering just moments away from touching his own and, after Roman nodded in response to the question if it was alright if he touched him, his hand was grabbed and thumbs ran over knuckles.

Remus sat down cross-legged again. Close but not too close. There but not too present.

He was slowly beginning to unwrap the thoughts he'd grasped then. And he didn't like his present one bit.

"Do you want to tell us what Remus said that was correct?" Deceit said and Roman was nodding as soon as the words had left his mouth. Desperate for comfort. Desperate to talk. For somebody to listen to him for once.

Desperate for the chance Deceit was giving him.

So Roman told them about his not too great day and about how he'd missed step seven on the stairs, showing then his bruised back and scrapped hands.

He told them about the apple and the mushy ideas in his bin and about how the documentary hadn't been his choice.

And then he kept talking.

He told them about how he'd been feeling for the last few months and how it hadn't been happy feelings. He told them about how mushy ideas had become more frequents and dismissal had been something he'd gotten used to.

He told them about not being heard and about lines being rewritten by others because his weren't good enough.

When the evening came they sat together on the floor infront of the couch. Eating parshly cold and parshly mushy noodles because they'd let them sit for too long as they talked and talked and didn't talk for a while before talking again.

And when Deceit offered that he could stay the night and every othernkugjt if he so pleased, Roman had said he'd sleep on the couch for the night.

And if he woke up in his own room the next morning, well, you wouldn't see him complaining.

And if said room had a door that led to a different livingroom than it had lead to for all of his life then he didn't mind.

He simply greeted his brother, trying to get used to being so close again. Trying to find a way to orbit around the same earth as he without clashing again.

And he simply thanked Deceit when he arrived at the table and saw three plates there and eggs and bread and orange juice and water and tea that had cooled down slightly.

They'd waited for him.

After they'd finished breakfast and cleaned up Remus very timidly asked if he liked where his room was now. And after Roman had told him that he liked it very much, he asked him a little less timidly if they could pay his family a visit.

The term family felt like a jacket that didn't quite fit when it was applied to the three sides but he'd nodded either way. And after they'd gotten all dressed up and Roman had stared at the mirror still covered with his old duvet wondering if he'd ever be able to face the man on the other side, they were off.

Roman walked towards their common room with a darkside on each side.

He'd never tell them why is ment this much to be able to walk in the middle and not on the side or behind them. But they seemed to know. And Deceit laid a hand on his shoulder for a brief second and gave him a tight-knit smile.

"Where have you been?!"

They stood in the middle of the common room, infront of the TV that was displaying a documentary on black holes on pause.

"Roman?" Remus said, looking at his brother closely. Watching a stop motion of microexpressions flicker over his face that got significantly less micro when Patton crossed his arms and, rather loudly, told him to 'just spit it out Roman!'

Deceit had understood though. And he stepped infront of the two brothers after Roman had given him a quiet confirmation that he was allowed to speak for him.

"We're taking Roman in. He's going to be living with us from now on."

"You're kidnapping him?!" Virgil said very loudly. But it wasn't shouting. Never shouting.

"No. We asked if he would like to and he agreed that it was the best choice. He's fully willing to and we've already moved his room."

"Why isn't he telling us himself then? The fact that he isn't making this more dramatic than it needs to be us suspicious. Don't you think so Logan? Of course you do."

Deceit's eyes flickered to Logan as Patton mentioned him. Seeing a flash of something like longing, of something like guilt, like begging him to tell Roman that he was sorry.

"You've broken him down enough for him to not want to. Now if you'll excuse us, -" he began, nodding once as the brothers began to leave. "- we only stopped by to announce the news to you so we'll be going." Roman was shaking with relief. "HOWEVER." And suddenly he was shaking with something very different.

"If I get even the slightest indication that EITHER or you do as much as GLANCE at him in a wrong way, I'll not be held responsible for how Remus might act to protect his brother."

Patton took a step back at that while Virgil simply snarled and gave Deceit the bird.

Logan sat silently. Very very quietly in the same place he'd been sitting for the entire time they had been there. Looking down at his knees.

"Tasteful Virge. Very very charming. And Logan-" The logical traits head snapped up to meet Deceit's eye. Gaze wandering towards Roman for a moment to determine that he was indeed watching him intendly.

"-if there's anything you wish to talk about or apoligise for, you're welcome to come by sometime. Make sure you shut the door though. We wouldn't want pests getting in."

The last part was growled towards the other two sides and Remus cackled in delight at the remark as he grabbed the handle and pushed the door open.

As soon as they were far enough away Deceit turned to Roman who had been clutching his brothers arm rather tightly for the entirety of the conversation.

"Are you alright Roman?"

Roman looked up then. Tears staining his cheeks but a smile Deceit found was very much a genuine one on his face as he looked at him.

"I'm not. But I think I will be."

AN: Ceno, if you're reading this, thank you for ranting with me about unsympathetic Virgil and Patton and giving me this story idea. You're great and the best unoffical sister I could have wished for.

Tags: @purp-man @crazycookie13o @deceitifullies101 @sapphire-knight @ragingdumpsterfiremess @chronophobica @lance-alt @mylifeisadeceit @itriedandimtired @unsympatheticpatton @unsympa-side-ic

(if you would like to be added or removed from the taglist simply send me an ask/message)

311 notes · View notes

clumsyclifford · 3 years

Note

hello bella’s ask box it’s been a min damn.

so the vibes are fucking everywhere w the music in the lab today so i’ve mostly been ignoring it but then unforgettable by thomas rhett started playing and my brain was immediately like This Is a Fic Song

more importantly it is a Bella Fic Song

last time you not so subtly wanted me to prompt u w w thomas rhett song you told me to do that here so i am back again w another song from ur boy

okay i def snuck out just to send this so i gotta go now but this felt important laksdjdld

ok ily bye 💛

hi sam :)

so.................... i was stuck on what to write you for your birthday fic. you sent me this ask prompting me with a thomas rhett song that i had literally been meaning to write a fic based on for almost a full year. the puzzle pieces just aligned REALLY nicely on this one.

happy birthday, my love. there's gonna be a LOT more sappy shit in the ao3 notes, but please know that my life is irreversibly changed for the better because i met you. i am dangerous close to sounding like glinda from wicked and i really want you to get to READ this fic so please see ao3 for more schmaltz. i love you so much.

tw for alcohol

read here on ao3

Every life has a moment that imprints on memory like ink on a fresh page. The kind of moment that permanently alters the trajectory of that life, that marks the ending of one chapter and the beginning of another. Some people are lucky enough to have more than one. Some people’s minds are laden with crystallized memories. But there’s always at least one. One completely unforgettable moment.

For Jack, this moment happens twenty-four minutes after he enters the club.

Twenty-three minutes after he enters the club, Zack returns with his and Jack's second beers and says, "There's some guy at the bar who's totally your type."

"Yeah?" Jack cranes his neck, but he can't quite see the bar from where he is. "My type how? Not just 'lonely and drunk,' right? My standards have gotten higher, you know."

Zack hands Jack his beer. "He's cute and he's wearing a One Direction shirt, and I'm pretty sure he's drinking a margarita.”

"Oh shit," Jack says. "That checks all my boxes."

"I know it does," says Zack, winner of the Wingman Of The Decade award. He claps Jack on the shoulder. Jack sidesteps people until he gets eyes on the bar and scans for a cute guy in a One Direction shirt drinking a margarita.

Twenty-four minutes after Jack enters the bar, he sees Alex.

And everything changes forever.

"Woah," Jack says. His gut is feeling weird and it’s probably unrelated to the beer and a half under his belt.

"What?"

"The guy at the bar," Jack says, grabbing Zack's arm. "Zack. You grossly undersold my future husband to me."

"Your future husband?" Zack sounds amused, but Jack isn't kidding.

"Remember this moment," he says seriously, giving Zack a sloppy pat on the bicep before moving away from him, towards the bar, towards the cute guy with the One Direction shirt who's making Jack understand clairvoyance. "Remember this so you can tell the story at our wedding!"

"Your wedding," Zack repeats.

"Our fucking wedding!" Jack insists, more loudly as space and drunk people fill the growing gap between him and Zack. Zack just gives him a good-luck-and-godspeed wave.

Seconds later, Jack is at the bar.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

The cute guy in question looks up, surprised. Jack practically reels. It's a miracle people aren't flocking to this guy; he's not just cute, he's gorgeous. Bleach-blond hair — clearly from a bottle, which somehow Jack finds more attractive — flops over his forehead in a stubborn commitment to the emo fringe that died out a decade ago, and long lashes frame brown eyes that rival the glossy chestnut color of the bar. Add the five o'clock shadow and the sharply angled jaw and Jack's speechless.

Fortunately it's not his turn to speak. "I have a drink," says the guy, who is rapidly progressing from Cute Guy At Bar to Possible Soulmate At Bar. He quirks a smile. Jack's done for. "I'll buy you a drink, though."

Jack sets his partially-drunk beer on the bar top and slides it as far as he can reach. "Okay," he says.

Possible Soulmate laughs. He slides his margarita away from him, too, pushing it into the space of another person sitting down the bar. "Touché. Okay, you can buy me a drink."

"Well, hey, I don't want you to waste yours," Jack says reasonably. He retrieves his beer and then Possible Soulmate's drink. "I'll get the next one."

Possible Soulmate smiles. Jack is going to need his name eventually. "I appreciate your commitment to environmentally-friendly consumption of alcohol."

Jack blinks. "Yeah," he says. "That was a lot of big words, but sure. No problem. I'm Jack, by the way."

"Alex." Alex. Jack can see the wedding invites now.

"Nice to meet you," Jack says. "I like your shirt."

Alex glances down out of instinct as the wide collar of the shirt slips over his shoulder. "Thanks," he says with a chuckle, and looks up at Jack. "I like yours."

With great effort, Jack tears his gaze from Alex's shoulder and the hint of collarbone peeking out, but he would like it on the record that it is tremendously difficult. Fortunately he already knows what shirt he's wearing because he'd agonized over it for several minutes longer than Zack's patience ran, shortly before going out.

"Yeah, Kurt Cobain," he says, nodding with probably too much enthusiasm. "I'm a lead singer guy."

"Really?" Alex tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. "Meaning what?"

"I go for the lead singer types," Jack explains. "Kurt Cobain, Billie Joe Armstrong, you know." He nods at Alex's shirt. "Harry Styles."

"Harry Styles wasn't—" Alex breaks off and snorts. "Eh, whatever. Who cares."

"Wait," Jack says. "Hold the phone. Did you fucking cross out Zayn's face?"

Alex looks down at his shirt again like maybe he'll have forgotten what it looks like. "Oh, my friend did that. But now the shirt is factually accurate."

"If you wanted an accurate shirt you'd have to cross them all out since none of them are in the band anymore," Jack observes.

Alex slowly smiles. "I guess."

"I always liked Zayn," Jack says wistfully. "His solo shit is so good, though."

"It's good," Alex says, kind of in the tone of voice of someone who doesn't really agree but doesn't want to get into it, so Jack leaves it be. They can poll their wedding guests. "I'm really digging Niall's solo shit."

"That's an extremely acceptable answer," Jack says, nodding vigorously. In the moment it slips his mind that he's holding a beer and the liquid begins to slosh out of its container. "Oh shit, fuck, sorry."

"Didn't get me," Alex says, passing Jack a napkin. "Couple too many, I get it."

"What?" Jack is very focused on drying his hands so they don't get sticky and gross. "I'm not drunk."

Alex laughs. "Yeah, right."

"I'm not!"

"Okay," Alex says lightly, but it's clear he doesn't believe Jack. On the bright side, he doesn't seem bothered by it.

"I am acceptably drunk for a guy in his mid-twenties at a club,” Jack amends. "And you owe me a drink anyway."

"Hey, I intend to buy you that drink," Alex says earnestly. "Another beer?"

Jack shakes his head. "Vodka soda," he says. "It's a special occasion."

"Really! You celebrating something?"

"I am now," Jack says. "Celebrating meeting my future husband."

"Your future husband?"

"You," Jack says, in case it wasn't clear. "It's not every day you meet the man you're gonna marry. I think it calls for a celebratory vodka soda."

Alex stares, obviously expecting Jack to say sike! When Jack does no such thing, he gives a small, incredulous laugh.

"Fair enough," he says. He sounds like he's humoring Jack. That's okay. Jack is serious, but Alex will figure that out on his own time. "I guess you're not wrong. That doesn't happen every day."

A large shadow materializes on Alex's other side, blocking light like some very cliché movie villain. It's not Doc Ock, but it is some tall, burly guy, a leer affixed to his face that's probably been there since Alex's haircut went out of style.

"Hey, baby," he says in an unnervingly deep voice. The part of Jack that isn't super skeezed out is a little jealous. But Burly Guy isn't talking to Jack; Jack may as well be invisible. To Alex, Burly Guy says, "Saw you across the bar and I just had to come over."

Didn't have to, Jack thinks grumpily to himself. You could have stayed across the bar. If you walk away now we’ll pretend we never saw you.

"Can I get you a drink?" Burly Guy asks, and honestly, Jack has no idea what Alex is going to say.

Big Burly Guy with a deep voice a la Morgan Freeman vs. resident beanstalk Jack whose voice sounds like a rejected cartoon character design. What a tough choice.

Jack is just preparing to cut his losses when Alex grabs Jack's wrist, turns to him, and says, "Honey? What do you think?"

Jack's tipsy, but Alex is definitely communicating something with his eyes, and between that and the pet name Jack is pretty sure he's on the same page.

"You want to buy my boyfriend a drink?" Jack asks Big Burly Guy, cranking up the Bitchy energy because he doesn't get to do it a lot and it's kinda fun. His voice has definitely gone vaguely southern-auntie, but he's rolling with it. "Sorry, sugar, this seat's taken. Must be this guy" — he points at himself — "to ride."

"This guy?" Burly Guy echoes, furrowing his eyebrows at Jack and then looking at Alex with profound confusion, like he just doesn't get it. "You're with this guy?"

"Happily," Alex says, glancing back at Jack, who offers him what is definitely a convincingly enamored smile because Jack is legitimately enamored. Alex laces their fingers together and Jack's not delusional, can't be, not when they fit this well together. No way. "So I'm gonna pass on that drink. Sorry, man. No hard feelings."

Burly Guy seems to have some hard feelings. Maybe he didn't get the memo. "Whatever," he says gruffly. "Your loss."

Jack can't resist countering, "Actually it's your loss, sweetums," as Burly Guy retreats. If he dies tonight, he knows who’s responsible.

As soon as he's gone, Alex breaks down laughing, and Jack quickly follows suit. Alex's hand slips from Jack's and begins to tug at the ends of his own hair instead.

"Sugar?"

"I don't know what happened," Jack says/wheezes. "I became possessed by Blanche from Golden Girls.”

"You have to be" — Alex prods Jack's chest — "this guy to ride." He dissolves into giggles and Jack is laughing too but mostly because Alex's laugh is incredibly contagious.

"Look, I don't blame him," Jack says, feeling exhilarated. "You are the best-looking guy in this establishment. He just happened to have creepo vibes."

"I am not the best-looking guy in this establishment," Alex says, grinning at Jack. "Nice of you to say, though."

"Hey, I'm serious!"

"I thought you were Jack."

Jack stares at Alex and Alex doesn't even last a second before he's breaking down laughing yet again.

I'm going to marry you, Jack thinks, and it almost scares him how serious he is about that. He opens his mouth and says, "That wasn't even— that's not even one of the good dad jokes! That's the most boring one!"

"There is no such thing as a boring dad joke."

"You should go into stand-up," Jack says dryly. "You'd tear down the house with this set. I can see it now." He waves a grandiose hand in the air as if painting the marquee into existence, but when he goes to introduce the act he realizes he's missing most of the crucial information. "Alex…something…something. Austin, Texas, one night only."

"Gaskarth," Alex says. "That's my last name."

"Alex Something Gaskarth," Jack loyally amends, and gives Alex a look like, well?

Except Alex is giving Jack that same look. "I only know your first name and you expect me to tell you my full one?"

"Jack Bassam Barakat," Jack says, gesturing impatiently. "Come on, I'm trying to introduce your act here."

"Guess," Alex says.

"Guess?"

"It's a pretty basic middle name," Alex says. "I'll buy you your vodka soda when you guess it."

"Alex," Jack says. "I am not going to guess your middle name. I am so bad at these games and I'm fucking drunk."

"Quitter," Alex says. "Do you want your drink?"

Jack scowls, trying to channel Blanche again, but Alex is apparently immune.

"Give me a hint," he finally concedes.

"It's a British name," Alex says. “Pretty standard British.”

"Are you British?”

Alex nods. "Born and raised. Moved here when I was about…eight? But I'm not an American citizen. I have a green card."

Yet another reason they should be married. Jack could extend his citizenship to Alex. Plus he'd gain British citizenship, which would probably be useful for, like, travel or One Direction stalking or whatever.

"That's sick," Jack says. "I was born in Lebanon. We moved when I was a baby."

"That's so cool," Alex says, sounding genuinely interested. He props his chin on his hand and gives Jack a cheeky smile. "Now guess."

Jack sighs. "Uh, Charles."

"No."

"Darcy."

"Darcy?"

"Margaret."

"Jack."

"You said it's a British name!"

"A British man's name," Alex says, rolling his eyes in fond exasperation.

Jack takes a long pull from his beer, swallows, and says, "Harry."

"No."

They're going to be here awhile. Jack pulls out the seat next to Alex and settles in while he racks his brain for British names.

“Alfred.”

“Nope.”

“John.”

“No.”

“Paul.”

“No.”

“George.” Alex shakes his head. “Ringo.”

“Yup, you finally got it,” Alex says. Jack is over the moon for a split second before it sinks in that Alex is fucking with him. “Alex Ringo Gaskarth. Well done.”

“Fuck off, I’m doing my best here,” Jack says.

“You’re missing one incredibly obvious name,” Alex says. “It’s not that hard.”

“For you,” Jack says. “Because you already know it.” Alex is grinning. Jack likes that he’s enjoying himself. It makes this guessing game fun. Under any other circumstances, this guessing game would not be fun, but Alex makes it fun.

Alex has also finished his mango margarita by now, and Jack’s beer is long since empty. He’s itching for another drink, mainly for something to do with his hands.

As if reading his mind, Alex flags down the bartender, who sidles up with a small smile and says, “What can I get you boys?”

Jack blinks at her. Mostly at her accent, which is not American.

“Vodka soda,” Alex says. To Jack, “I think you’ve earned it.” Jack smiles.

“And a mango margarita,” he puts in to the bartender, “and are you British?”

The bartender looks amused. “I am British,” she says.

“Please help me,” Jack says. “Alex says his middle name is a British name and I cannot for the life of me figure out what it fucking is.”

“Jack, the nice bartender lady has other things to do,” Alex says with a laugh. The nice bartender lady probably does have other things to do, but she shifts her weight and gives Alex an appraising look instead.

“Harry?”

“Tried that,” Jack says, realizing at once that this is a pointless endeavor. The nice bartender lady is going to guess everything Jack’s already guessed and he’ll just have wasted her time. “I’ve tried every member of One Direction, every member of the Beatles, every member of Oasis, every Harry Potter character, every member of the Royal Family—”

At this, Alex coughs conspicuously.

Jack rounds on him. “I have.”

“Edward,” the bartender offers. Alex’s lips are pressed together in a smile and he shakes his head. “Meghan. Kate. Richard. Dick. Philip.”

A lightbulb goes off as the bartender is listing Royal Family names. Jack wants to kick himself. “Oh my— William?”

“Yeahhhh, there you go! See, it was easy,” Alex says, grinning widely.

“William,” the bartender repeats with a charming little laugh. Her lipstick is bright with clean lines, an impressive feat considering Jack has seen her bustling around this bar for almost an hour now. “I had an ex called William.”

“Oh no,” Alex says. “I hope he didn’t ruin the name for you.”

“Please,” the bartender says, waving him off. “The only thing he ruined for me was a few meters of drywall.” Jack and Alex must have twin looks of concern, because she explains, “Anger issues. No worries, boys, I sent him packing, and a vodka soda for you, and a mango marg for you.”

She slides their drinks into waiting hands and starts to turn away. “Wait a sec,” Jack says.

The bartender turns back to him with wide Bambi eyes. “Did I fuck up the drink? I’ve made it a million—”

“No no no,” Jack assures her. “I just wanted to know your name. You rescued me from an eternal guessing game, you’re my hero.”

The bartender smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Maisie,” she says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, Maisie,” Alex says. “Thank you for the alcohol.”

Maisie laughs again as she moves to the other side of the bar.

“William,” Jack says, swirling his drink with the miniature straw. “God damn. I can’t believe I missed William.”

“You got close,” Alex says. “You guessed Liam twice. And thanks for the drink.”

“Same to you,” Jack says. “It’s a good drink. Yours, I mean. You know what offends me, though? Why aren’t mango margaritas orange?”

Alex furrows his brow. “Why the fuck would they be orange?”

“Mangos are orange! Fruity drinks should be the same color as their fruit.”

“Mangos are not fucking orange,” Alex says with an incredulous laugh. “They’re straight-up yellow.”

“They’re orange with yellow tendencies,” Jack says, “but mostly orange.”

“They are entirely yellow,” Alex says. “Coldplay even wrote a song about them. They were all yellow.”

“They’re orange,” Jack insists, but now Alex has moved on completely and is loudly singing Coldplay.

“I came along! I wrote a song foooor youuuuu! And all the things you do!”

“You’re ignoring the truth!”

“And it was called ‘Yellow’!” Alex shouts.

“Okay, I surrender! Sheesh. You win.”

“Thank you,” Alex says placidly, like he hasn’t just been yelling obnoxiously over the (worse, but much louder) club music. “I’m going to enjoy my yellow mango marg very much.”

“And I will enjoy my victory drink,” Jack says, lifting his glass. Alex lifts his. It smells like mango and tequila. They clink the rims together. “To William.”

“To William,” Alex agrees, laughing.

The DJ plays a song Jack loves to hate from hearing it on the radio so many times and Alex is out of his seat before Jack’s managed to put down his drink.

“What are—”

“I love this song, I want to dance,” Alex insists. The implication is clearly that he wants Jack to dance with him, which is like. What is Jack gonna do, say no?

Alex must anticipate some kind of argument, though, because with a glint in his eye he adds lightly, “These are the kinds of things you’ll have to do if we’re married.”

On the one hand, he’s clearly making fun. But on the other hand, the fact that Alex was a stranger an hour ago and is still comfortable teasing Jack about suggesting they’re going to get married speaks volumes. Alex is smiling. They’ve known each other for less than an hour — a drink and a half each — and Alex is smiling at his own joke about marrying Jack. Like he likes that Jack said it first. Like he likes Jack.

“Just wait ‘til you learn all the weird shit you’ll have to do when we’re married,” Jack says, sliding out of his stool.

Any sane person would have run away by now. Even Jack knows when he’s coming on too strong.

But Alex does the opposite; Alex grabs his wrist and pulls him towards the dance floor.

“Fair warning,” Alex says. “I don’t actually know how to dance.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Jack says, and then eats his words not two seconds later when Alex demonstrates how very much he doesn’t know how to dance. All of his limbs seem to move as their own entities, zero synchronization. A couple surrounding people take various minor assaults before taking the hint and giving Alex some space, but this does not stop him. “Okay,” Jack says loudly over the music. “You were right. But luckily neither do I.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Alex says.

Jack does the sprinkler. Alex snorts. He does the wave, very poorly, and Alex continues it, also very poorly.

“Mr. Moves,” Alex says. “I’m impressed.”

“Yeah? Check this one out.” Jack does the running man with extreme focus. Alex laughs, leaning towards Jack as he does. Jack stops dancing so he doesn’t accidentally hit Alex, who is suddenly much closer and who somehow smells like pine and flannel and fall and winter in one and is the best-looking person in blue jeans and checkered Vans on this dance floor. Far from the only person, but without question the prettiest.

Fuck.

“I don’t think I can do that one,” says Alex, grinning. Jack nods at him like, try it, so Alex does, proving himself right. He almost takes Jack’s eye out.

“Yeesh, okay, you’re— alright, take it easy,” Jack says, swatting Alex’s wayward hand away and laughing. “Well, we all have our strengths.”

Surrendering the running man, Alex starts up with some bizarre hand-wavey foot-kicky thing, singing along to the music.

“Do you seriously like this song?” Jack asks, attempting to imitate Alex’s dance. “Dance,” heavy quote marks implied.

Alex shoots Jack a look. “Hell yeah. What, you don’t?”

“It’s just…always on,” Jack says. “Everywhere. How are you not sick of it?”

“Because it fuckin’ slaps!” Alex looks incensed.

“I don’t know why I’m surprised you’re a pop music person when you’re literally in a One Direction shirt.”

“I’m a lots of music person,” Alex counters. “Including pop music, yeah. You don’t like pop music?”

“I sometimes do,” Jack says. “I like Taylor Swift. Britney Spears.”

“Okay, well, you’d have to be insane not to like them.”

“Yeah, and I’m obviously sane.”

Alex barks a laugh. “Drunk but sane.”

“I am not drunk!” That’s probably a lie by now.

“You’re not convincing me otherwise,” Alex says. “I’m confident you’ve been drunk this whole time.”

“You haven’t exactly been an innocent bystander,” Jack says. “You bought me a drink, and you’re gonna buy us shots in a minute.”

“I did— I what?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, and this time he drags Alex off the dance floor, back to the bar. “I can see the future, I forgot to tell you.”

“You—” Alex laughs again and leans on the bar, trapping both his elbows between his stomach and the bartop. “You’re buying the next round.”

“Oh, happily,” Jack says. “I’m actively trying to get you drunk.”

“Why’s that?”

“Studies show I am 75% more attractive to people when they’re drunk,” says Jack.

Alex turns to him. Without missing a beat, he says smoothly, “I don’t think it’s possible for you to get any more attractive.”

Fuck. Actually, fuck. Seriously. Fuck.

“You must be drunk already, then,” Jack says.

Alex smiles serenely. “I feel pretty sober.”

“Exactly what a drunk person would say,” Jack says. “J’accuse, William.”

Alex laughs. “In that case, your studies are right.”

Jack’s probably blushing. He does that in extreme cases only, but this is nothing if not an extreme case. Alex is fucking relentless.

Maisie the bartender is back, and Alex orders them shots of tequila. Somewhere in the recesses of Jack’s mind, this unlocks a memory, and he snaps his fingers. “I should hunt down my friend, he loves tequila.”

“Friend?” Alex looks around while Maisie pours their shots. “You ditched your friend?”

“He told me to,” Jack says. “He’s probably gonna pick up some girl. Actually, he probably already has.”

“Really,” Alex says, sounding amused.

“Zack’s a strong silent type,” Jack explains. “Emphasis on strong. We’re single guys in our mid-twenties, Alex. We’re not going to clubs for the atmosphere.”

“Admit it,” Alex says. “You a little bit are.”

Jack bites his lip. “Fine, I like the atmosphere,” he admits, more affected than he should be that Alex seems to have picked up on this about him. “And the alcohol. And the chances I’ll meet my future husband, which clearly paid off. Zack will never admit it, but I’m pretty sure he likes trying to set me up with random people in clubs.”

Alex laughs. “He set you up with me?”

“Oh yeah,” Jack says. “He wingmanned me hard. You can thank him in your vows.”

This only serves to make Alex laugh harder. “I’ll thank him now,” he says with a grin. Taking his cue, Jack grabs his shot glass. Alex does the same. “To Zack.”

“To Zack!” Jack cheers, and they both down their shots.

“Me?”

Jack whirls around and trips straight into Zack. “Zack!” he says brightly. “We toasted you.”

“I heard,” Zack says. “Why, exactly?”

“I’m Alex,” says Alex, holding out a hand. Zack shakes it. “Apparently you set us up?”

“Oh,” Zack says. “I wouldn’t really say that. I just kind of pointed Jack in this direction. If you can put up with him, that’s all you.”

“I was gonna come find you anyway,” Jack says. “We’re doing tequila shots. Next round on me.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Zack says. “Count me in.”

They can’t come up with a toast for their second round so they just knock it back with an ambiguous cheer; then Zack offers to buy another, and Jack’s not about to refuse. It’s starting to hit just right, so he’s buzzed but not incoherent. All his most brilliant ideas come in this state.

Case in point: as Maisie is pouring them their third round, Jack suddenly says, “Maisie! Do a shot with us!”

Maisie looks up and laughs. “I’m not supposed to drink on the job,” she says.

“It’s not drinking, it’s bonding,” Jack insists.

“Yeah, we’re forming lasting friendships,” Alex jumps in.

Zack looks entertained. “You guys know each other?”

��As of half an hour ago, yes,” Maisie says.

“Maisie here helped me guess Alex’s middle name,” Jack explains. “Which is William. Like the prince.”

“I feel like I missed so much,” Zack says, half to himself. He shrugs and nods at Maisie. “One shot. On me. For Jack. We won’t tell.”

Maybe it’s because Zack is buff and has cool tattoos or just has good vibes or whatever, but Maisie hesitates only a second before inclining her head. “Just one, and no blabbing,” she says, meeting all of their eyes in turn. Everyone nods solemnly, and Maisie discreetly pours herself a fourth shot.

“Hell yes!” Jack whoops as they all take a shot glass. “To Maisie!”

“To Maisie!” Everyone echoes, including Maisie with a wry grin.

The third shot goes down smoother than the first two. Jack swallows his easily, as does Alex. Maisie puckers her face a bit. Zack has zero reaction, because Zack’s just kinda like that.

“While I’m here, I was hoping to get another beer,” Zack says.

“On it,” Maisie says immediately, giggling. “Thanks for the shot, boys. You’ve kept me far more entertained tonight than my usual shift provides.”

“You can give a toast at our wedding,” Jack says to her. Zack’s eyes widen a little, Alex snorts, and Maisie laughs.

“I’d be honored,” she says. “Back to work now. You need anything, let me know.”

“Seriously, Jack?”

“What?” Jack gives Zack an innocent smile. He pats Zack on the cheek. “Don’t worry, sugar, you can give a toast too.”

Alex laughs. Zack stares at him and shakes his head. “You’re insane,” he says, but he says that roughly twice a day so he’s still below his quota. “I’ll leave you two alone. Come find me when you wanna go. If…” He eyes Alex. “...Just…yeah.”

And with these eloquent words, he disappears with his beer into the crowd.

“I like him,” Alex announces.

“Me too,” Jack says. He turns back to Alex. “Back to the dance floor?”

“Get out of my brain,” Alex says. “I’d like to see your drunken running man.”

“It is gonna blow your fucking mind,” Jack promises, and Alex laughs again.

They’re not even being gross like everyone else. Alex has pulled Jack into an exaggerated tango performed mostly with missteps when it happens: someone shoves them aside as they walk past, and Alex loses his balance and falls into Jack, who just barely manages to catch them both. He doesn’t manage to stop his arm from winding around Alex’s waist. To be fair, he doesn’t try very hard.

Jack’s first thought is homophobe, but then he spots the offender, lumbering off with heavy footfalls, and it’s Burly Guy from earlier. The guy who tried and failed to pick Alex up.

All of this registers as Alex slowly regains his footing. “Damn, who pissed in that dude’s Cheerios?”

“It’s the guy from before who tried to buy you a drink,” Jack says, pointing at his back.

Alex whips his head around. “Seriously? Asshole.”

Jack chooses not to observe that from his vantage point, being shoved close together is hardly a dick move. In intent, sure, but not in actuality; Jack’s enjoying the proximity a great deal. Like, a lot.

Like, his hand is still on Alex’s hip, subtly keeping Alex close, and Alex has his arm around Jack’s shoulders from their dance and he’s not moving, either.

“Yeah,” Jack says. They’d already been on the outskirts and now they’re off to the side of everyone, wallflowers.

Alex breathes a laugh and looks back at Jack. He doesn’t step back or even lean away, even though their faces are too close to be friendly now. Jack hadn’t really been expecting friendly, but they’ve been tightrope-walking between sides, and if neither of them breaks this up then they’ll be irreversibly left on one end.

Jack has no intention of moving away. He likes this end of the tightrope. For all he cares, they could cut the tightrope and free-fall together.

“You’re pretty good at bad tango-ing,” Alex says, reaching up to brush away the sweaty fringe that’s clinging to his forehead.

Jack grins. “Well, you know what they say. It takes two.”

Alex kisses him so suddenly that Jack almost loses his balance.

He tastes like tequila. That’s all Jack gets before they’re not kissing anymore. The room feels quiet and then unforgivably loud the next second, and Alex is flushed and smiling nervously, and Jack is smiling too, not nervous at all.

“Did I tell you I’m in a band?” Alex asks in a rush.

Jack’s brain struggles to keep up. He can’t remember Alex mentioning a band, but he’s also distracted by wanting to kiss Alex again. There’s no understating the power of wanting to kiss someone over failing to clock anything they say. “What?”

“I’m in a band,” Alex says. “Not as a job, just like, for fun.”

“Oh,” says Jack.

“I’m the lead singer,” Alex says, with a flickering look down at Jack’s shirt.

“Oh,” says Jack, because, like, oh. “Can I kiss you again?”

“What, here?” Alex meets his eyes. “With all these people around?”

“You kissed me first,” Jack says. “Let me kiss you and then we can call it even.”

“Okay,” Alex says, and Jack’s kissing him before the word’s really out of his mouth.

And he tastes like tequila and mango and sugar and the color yellow and the sweat of the dance floor and God, it’s good. It’s like kissing a memory, except this memory is still here, not frozen in time, not trapped in an ornate frame. He’s creating a memory that he knows he’ll relive for the rest of his life.

Somehow, though he doesn’t know the end of this chapter, he knows the end of the book.

Alex’s warm palm cradling Jack’s cheek to hold him steady, fingers splayed out like a star; Alex’s other hand grazing skin over the collar of Jack’s shirt. Alex singing Coldplay in Jack’s ear. Alex’s blue jeans and his checkered Vans and his ridiculous One Direction tank top. Alex holding Jack’s hand and calling him honey to get Burly Guy to leave him alone. Grinning as he shoots down guess after guess for the elusive middle name. Laughing at Jack’s stupid dance moves. Knocking back a shot like it’s nothing. Smiling when Jack says they’re going to get married, never moving away, only ever closer.

Alex sitting undisturbed at the bar, ankles crossed, and Jack seeing him from across the room like something out of a goddamn Hallmark movie and just knowing.

He tugs Alex closer but Alex is already pulling away with a smile. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah,” Jack says. He smoothes a hand over a crease in Alex’s shirt and nods. “Taxi’s on me if we go back to your place.”

“Sucker, I was gonna suggest that anyway,” Alex says with a quiet laugh. “You should tell Zack. Don’t wanna just leave him.”

“Don’t worry,” Jack says. “He knows.”

“He knows?”

“Zack and I are brothers in clairvoyance,” Jack says. “How many times do I have to tell you this?”

“I knew you could see the future,” Alex says. “You never told me Zack could, too.”

“Zack can see everyone’s future,” says Jack. “I can only see mine.”

“Yeah? What’s your future look like now?”

Jack filters out several inappropriate comments. It’s hard when Alex is smirking, clearly baiting him. “I told you,” he says. “You, me, vows, rings, the works.”

“Not that future,” Alex says. “I’m talking about the immediate one.”

It takes everything in Jack not to get down on one knee and say so was I. There’s a tilt in Alex’s head, like a dog listening carefully for a familiar sound.

“Honestly?” Jack says, and Alex nods. “I think it’s more fun if we find out together.”

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