#i somehow managed to draw this pretty fast… like around 5 hours or so…

[almondpiglet]

ITS MOBS BIRTHDAY!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY BOY!! drink all the milk and eat as much cake as you like!!

[dysfunctionalcrab]

babysitter

pairing: georgenotfound x reader

pronouns: gender neutral

description: george is left to babysit your niece

warnings: mentions of a future family? just in case that makes you uncomfortable.

[y/n/n] - your nieces name

[y/s/n] - your siblings name (gender neutral too)

note: i’m not too sure about this imagine, please a like or reply if you actually enjoyed! - niss

you woke up to the sound of your alarm blasting your ear off, if you hadn’t turned it off right there you probably would have gone deaf.

george was sleeping like a baby beside you, you could hear his quiet snores. you were surprised he didn’t wake up to the sound of your ear-piercing alarm.

turning on your phone, you glanced at the time that read 12:30. you sighed in annoyance as you registered that you only had half an hour before you had to be on your way to university. so you got up and began your normal morning routine, brush your teeth, shower, have breakfast and finally get dressed. however, as you were packing your bag, almost ready to go, you received a notification from your [sibling]

[y/s/n]: we’re 5 minutes away!!!

[y/s/n]: thank you so much for agreeing to do this :)

fuck.

it completely slipped your mind. you had promised to take care of [y/n/n] for today, your 7 year old niece, while your [sibling] was at their job interview. regardless, you texted them a quick ‘no problem’ before rushing upstairs to wake up george.

he was still sleeping, but now he was completely hiding under the covers with one arm sticking out. you hated to interrupt his beauty sleep but this was more important. you began to shake him awake.

“babe,” you shook him

“wake up,”

“george,” you removed the covers off his face

“wake the fuck up!” you started poking his sides. usually, you would be a little less... harsh, but you were panicking.

finally the boy rose from his slumber, groaning and stretching all his limbs. he blinked a couple times before meeting your eyes

“good morning,” he said softly, as if he completely just disregarded your tone of desperation and worry.

you pulled him by his arm and he sat upright,

“you need to get up right now,” you told him

“what’s going on?” he questioned, clearly confused as you weren’t giving him any context

“you need to take care of [y/n/n] for today, i have classes today, and i need to leave in 5 minutes and [y/s/n] has a job interview and there’s nobody else to take care of her,” you rushed out all in once sentence.

“are you serious?” he narrowed his eyes at you. “you know how bad i am with kids, especially [y/n/n] , she hates me,”

that was partly true. unfortunately, your niece wasn’t exactly fond of george. ever since you even started dating,m, [y/n/n] acted cold towards your boyfriend, it only got worse when you moved in with him. she always refused to play a game if george was going to participate, or never accepted any high fives or hellos from him. you felt sympathy for george. this child despised him and now you were asking him to look after her.

“please, i’m begging you,” you looked at him with pleading eyes. his eyes softened up after recognising the urgency of the situation.

“fine,” he agreed. you sighed out of satisfaction that you didn’t have to stress out [y/s/n] over finding a new baby sitter.

“thank you so much,” you pressed a small kiss to his lips appreciatively.

right at that moment, you two heard the doorbell ring. you urged george to get ready as fast as he could while you went down stairs and greeted your [sibling] and your niece.

“auntie/uncle [y/n]!” [y/n/n] yelled as you opened the door, immediately rushing into your arms. she looked a lot taller than the last time you saw her

“how’s my favourite girl?” you picked her up and swung her, before placing a little kiss on her head

you gave your [sibling] a quick hug. they handed you a bag full of toys, teddies and colouring pens, along with a spare set of clothing just in case [y/n/n] got a little messy throughout the day. and some quick reminders about her favourite foods or how to get her stop crying. you’d looked after her before, so all of it was pretty familiar to you

“again, thank you so, so much, you have no idea how much you’re helping me.” they told you. your [sibling] gave [y/n/n] a kiss on the cheek and told her to be a ‘good and kind little girl’ before finally exiting the household.

george, at last, made his way down. wearing a decent pair of jeans and a hoodie, giving an awkward wave to [y/n/n]

you checked the time and knew you had to get going. you had to explain to her that uncle george was going to be the one looking after her today. and after one whole tantrum, you managed to convince her to be a good girl by promising to give her a big reward afterward.

finally, you kissed [y/n/n] and george a goodbye , then shut the front door behind you.

george and [y/n/n] stood opposite each other. there was an uncomfortable silence in the air. george felt so...he didn’t even know. what do you say to a child who hates you? [y/n/n] tightly clutched her bag of toys.

“so, [y/n/n],” george cleared his throat, he bent down to her level. “i hear you like toy story?”

[y/n/n] pouted “i don’t like you” she said, and stomped away.

george sighed. this was going to be a long day.

and it was.

-

it started off with [y/n/n] innocently using her colouring pens and drawing random things, you know, as children do. but when she ran out of paper, she made her way to your office, where all your uni work was. she grabbed the closest piece of paper that was sitting on your desk, deciding it was going to be the next canvas for her art. this paper just happened to be a very important assignment.

when george caught her in the act, he had to physically tear her away from your office, in defiance of all her kicking and screaming.

-

then, when george accidently left the door to your shared bedroom open. [y/n/n] waddled in without him noticing, she started playing with all of his devices. his computer, his microphone, and somehow she got a hold of his headphones, and took out the battery. george didn’t realise until he noticed the cover missing. he tried to ask her nicely where she threw the battery. but she insisted that she wasn’t going to give it back unless he stopped being ‘mean’

-

when lunch time rolled around, george put a pizza in the oven, he remembered clearly that [y/n/n] loved pizza, specifically pepperoni. nothing could go wrong here.

but when he called her to the kitchen so she could receive her lunch. she just stared blankly at the pizza, and then at him. she crossed her arms

“[y/n] usually makes a smiley face with the pepperoni”

george just felt all his will to live just disappear

-

coloured pens and toys were spread out all across the living room floor, [y/n/n] was sitting in front of the tv, george put on one of her favourite shows which thankfully distracted her for a bit, allowing him to relax. he pulled out his phone and texted you

to [y/n] <3 : help me please

to [y/n] <3: i cant take this anymore, i’m literally dying rn

to [y/n] <3: come home quick

he exhaled heavily, throwing his phone to the side. he was so exhausted.

[y/n/n] was roleplaying with her toys, making them move around and doing squeaky little voices. george smiled at the innocence

“purple bear doesn’t play with us anymore. princess giraffe, mr. george took her away from us,” she spoke in a high pitched voice

george’s ears perked up. how funny that she had a teddy named ‘mr. george’. curiously, he watched the little girl.

“koala george, is a meanie, he stole purple bear and now they don’t want to hang out with us!”

it didn’t take a genius to find out what [y/n/n] was displaying through her role playing teddies.

that was why she didn’t like george. before they got together, [y/n] mentioned they almost spent every weekend with [y/n/n], playing with her and having fun with her.

she felt abandoned by [y/n] and felt as if george had taken them away from her .

george felt at fault as he noticed the girls eyes started to water.

“does purple bear love us any more?” she continued to play.

george decided it was enough and he switched off the television. he joined [y/n/n] on the floor and grabbed the teddy that was supposedly ‘koala george’

“[y/n/n]” he spoke softly. the little girl looked up at him expectantly. he held up the teddy.

“is this supposed to be me?” he questioned her.

“that’s a koala bear,” she answered

“no-, [y/n/n],” he said. he thought about how to ask her, and just chose it was best to be flat out with the child,”

“did i steal auntie/uncle [y/n] away from you?”

the question took her by surprise. she gazed at him with big wide eyes. she thought about her answer and grabbed the purple bear, which was supposed to be you.

“they don’t play with me as much anymore, they’re always with you, because of you, they don’t love me anymore,” she pulled a face, it wasn’t angry, it wasn’t annoyed.

it was a genuinely sad face.

george was sure he physically felt a pang of guilt in his stomach. he never even comprehended the fact that a child could feel so rejected.

“listen... [y/n/n],” he said gently. he thought about his words. comforting someone wasn’t exactly his strongest point, particularly not a child who detested him “[y/n] will never stop loving you, okay? they love you very much, and i’m sorry you feel like i stole them ”

[y/n/n] continued to listen.

“but don’t forget that [y/n] has so much love to go around! look, they love you, and they love me, they love grandma and grandpa too! they will always love one another even if they can’t see each other often,”

[y/n/n] stayed silent. she fiddled with the purple teddy, folding its ears and patting its head. she loved that bear. it was actually gifted to her by you, when she was first born. she brought it to her chest and hugged it. george tried a different approach.

“listen, how about- this weekend, we can all go to the park together, and have a picnic. you, me, [y/n], and your parents too,”

she continued to just stay silent. george didn’t know what to expect, she was unpredictable, was she going to throw another hissy fit? or start to cry? he wasn’t sure

“can we also get ice cream?” she asked

george smiled and felt himself relax. thank god. “all the ice cream you want,” he told her

[y/n/n] stood up and giggled. like her whole entire mood did a whole fucking 180. “okay! let’s go play dress up now!”

———

7:45 pm. you finally arrived home. you were tired out of your mind. [y/s/n]’s interview was delayed by two hours and was currently half way back home, meaning you had enough time to spend with [y/n/n]

you unlocked the door, expecting to see a giant tsunami of toys and colouring pencils and pens, but what you saw was the most heart warming thing ever.

george was sleeping on the couch, his head resting on the armrest. he had a couple pink bows in his hair, his lips were painted a hot pink, he was wearing a couple sparky bracelets and a purple floral necklace.

in his lap, [y/n/n] rested her head, she was wearing a fairy costume with matching pink bows and sparkly bracelets.

you quickly snapped a photo of this wholesome moment. because, who wouldn’t? you spent a few minutes just watching the two sleep, they were probably just as tired as you.

moments like these made you really appreciate the people you had in your life. the people you love so dearly much.

you didn’t want to disrupt the ambience but you felt it was better for your [sibling] to collect your niece when she wasn’t covered in glitter and an overload of pink accessories.

you quietly woke george up,

“baby, wake up.” you shook him awake, gently. in a very different way than you did this morning. he opened his eyes. and immediately smiled upon seeing your face. you ran your thumb across his cheek

“it looks like you two had a lot of fun,” you teased.

he quietly chuckled. “she’s okay,” he told you. looking down at the little girl sleeping in his lap.

you slowly and carefully picked her up, removing any accessories you thought may seem uncomfortable to sleep in. she was a heavy sleeper.

you carried her upstairs, tucking her into you and george’s bed and placing a kiss upon her forehead. you turned back to george and rushed in for a bear hug

“thank you so much for doing that,” you said. “i love you so much, i know it probably wasn’t easy, she can be quite the handful,”

george chuckled. “handful is an understatement,”

“you’d better be willing to dress up like that with our own kids one day.” you stated, hugging him tighter.

his face broke out into a small smile, having thought of an image of you two playing with you future kids. he kissed top of your head and then your nose

“maybe one day”

———

masterlist

[sequinsmile-x]

His Girls

For my dear friend @sweetsecretskeptinside , who loves the idea of Aaron being a girl dad probably more than I do. Part of the Full House series Rating: Mature (for the tiniest bit of spice, but mostly because Emily has a potty mouth) 

Trigger Warning: mentions of people throwing up/being sick Read over on a03, or below the cut

“I should cancel.” She says, nervously biting her lip as she readjusted their daughter on her hip. “I don’t think it’s a good idea if I go.”

Ivy was unwell, a cold making their usually happy baby very cranky. Emily was standing by their front door, dressed in a knee length red dress, her hair curled to perfection and her make up painstakingly applied. She looked beautiful, as she always did, but on edge. She had Ivy curled in her arms, the 9 month old practically trying to crawl under her skin as she clambered to get impossibly closer to her mother.

Aaron was usually the favourite, the one Ivy would seek out at any given moment, but as soon as she was sick she was all about Emily. Demanding her mother’s embrace and attention.

“Em, love, it’s your bachelorette party.” He says, trying to reason with her. “If you don’t go it’s kind of pointless.”

“But she’s sick.” Emily rocks Ivy, gently patting her back at the same time to try and soothe the rattle in her chest. Each cough that came from her daughter made Emily’s heart constrict. “She needs me.”

Aaron closes the gap between them then pulls his fiancee and daughter into his arms. “She does, but I’ll be here.” He soothes, pressing a kiss to Emily’s temple. “And you need to go out with your friends, when was the last time you did that?”

He knew the answer was long before Ivy was born, her reluctance to go to bars with Penelope and JJ whilst pregnant born out of being the designated driver, and having to ignore many questions about her sex life with Aaron. He still remembers her coming home one night when she was 5 months pregnant, frustrated to the point of tears over how different things were.

He also knew that some of her hesitance to go out now was that this was the first time she was willingly spending a night away from their daughter. Emily had gone back to work months ago, when Ivy was 4 months old, so had been away on several cases since then, but she’d turned down many requests from Penelope for girls' nights in the interim. Wanting to spend as much time with Ivy as she could when she didn’t need to be away.

Aaron loves her for it, how much she adores their daughter. She was exactly the mother he always knew she would be, the one he assured her she was when she struggled to believe she could do it during her pregnancy and the hard early days of motherhood. But he knew she needed some of her old self back, to remind herself of who she was outside of the BAU and their home. So despite how much he selfishly wanted her to stay home, how he knew Ivy would settle easier with her there, and how he struggled to sleep without Emily next to him, he was encouraging her to go out.

Emily sighs. “A long time ago.” She runs her hand up and down Ivy’s back again, who now had her face pressed into Emily’s neck.

“We’ll be fine here.” Aaron says, gently easing the baby into his own arms. “She’ll go to sleep soon anyway, and then Jack and I will watch a movie.”

Her hands twitch to reach out for Ivy when the little girl starts to cry again, but the doorbell rings before she can talk anymore about cancelling her night out. Emily sighs as she turns to open the door, a fake smile plastered on her face as Penelope enthusiastically greets her, pulling her into a hug.

Ivy cries, drawing the attention back to her. Emily is by Aaron’s side immediately, her hand on her daughter's back. She kisses her hair, soothing her with gentle words.

Aaron and Penelope exchange a quick look whilst Emily kisses the back of Ivy’s head, and an understanding passes between them before Emily can change her mind again about going out.

“Come on.” Penelope says as she links her arm through Emily’s. “The bride-to-be can’t be late to her own bachelorette party.” She tugs Emily towards the door, not really giving her any choice in the matter. “Your adorable mini-me will still be here when you get back.”

Emily throws Aaron a smile over her shoulder as she leaves, watches as he gently bounces a still cranky Ivy. “Call me if you need me to come home.”

“Have fun, sweetheart.” He says as the door closes behind them, unable to resist smiling when he could still hear Penelope’s enthusiastic voice as they walked away from the house. He looks down to Ivy in his arms, and rubs her back when she coughs again. “Why don’t we go see what your brother is up to?”

Ivy promptly throws up on him and he sighs.

It was going to be a long night. ______________________

Aaron is surprised when JJ brings Emily home only three hours later. When he opens the front door and sees her leaning against their friend, a giggle on her lips and a very hazy look in her eyes, he realises this might be the drunkest he’s ever seen her.

“Is she ok?” He asks, not quite covering the panic in his voice as he takes her from JJ, who made sure Emily was fully leaning against him before she let go.

“She got really drunk, really fast.” JJ explains, a sheepish look on her face. “The same thing happened to me my first night out after I had Henry.”

Realisation dawns on him, a memory of Haley getting absolutely wasted her first night out with her friends after she had Jack. Her tolerance changed, but her expectations of her ability to drink wine like it was going out of fashion remained the same.

Emily could drink like no one he had ever met. He attributed it to her growing up in Europe. Wine and hard liquor were her drinks of choice as a teenager, as opposed to the wine coolers and beer she was more likely to have drunk if she had been in the US. He could smell absinthe on her breath, and he wondered if they’d even bothered to eat anything before they went straight into the heavy drinking.

“Thanks for bringing her home, JJ.”

JJ nods at him, and mercifully ignores it when Emily clearly palms the front of his jeans. She always had been a handsy drunk. He thanks JJ again before closing the door, and he thinks logistically about how he was going to get Emily upstairs.

“You’re very handsome.” She slurs into his cheek, hand moving round to his back pocket, slipping in and grabbing a handful of his ass. “So pretty.”

Aaron stifles a laugh, knowing when he tells her about this in the morning she’ll be embarrassed. “Ok, sweetheart.”

She somehow stumbles on the spot and he knows he has no choice but to carry her. He wraps an arm around her back and places one under her thighs, lifting her into his arms. As soon as she is leaning against his chest she loops an arm around his neck, sleepiness taking her almost instantly.

He gets her into bed managing to change her into one of his t-shirts and get her shoes off, tucking her in. When he gets in next to her she rolls towards the edge of the bed. “Need to check on Ivy.”

“Not now, sweetheart.” He laughs pulling her back towards him. “She’s sleeping, just like need to.”

“I need you.”

He kisses the top of her head. “I’m right here.” ______________________

He suddenly wakes up at 1.30am and at first he’s not sure what’s woken him. Aaron sits up in bed and quickly realises it’s empty next to him. He hears retching coming from the ensuite and is out of bed quickly.

He finds her kneeling on the bathroom floor, just flushing the toilet as she sits back, groaning as she turns back to look at him. He sits on the floor behind her and rubs her back. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“I used to be able to drink more than this.” She laments, all but crawling the small distance from where she’d been laying on the bathroom floor into his lap, curling up into him like a cat. “I cannot remember the last time I got sick. I think I was a teenager.”

Aaron smiled to himself as he stroked her hair. She wasn’t wrong, she could usually drink the entire BAU under the table. Derek never learnt, always daring her to drinking challenges he would inevitably lose. The worst Emily ever got was a hangover, a headache that made her head feel like it was going to explode as she begged him to stay in bed with her. He’d never seen her get sick with it before.

“Sweetheart, you had a baby 9 months ago. And you only just stopped nursing her. Your tolerance has probably changed.”

She groans and presses her face into his thigh, curling tighter into his lap. “So what you’re saying is this is our sweet little girl's fault?”

He laughs at that. “No, what I’m saying is that you probably shouldn’t have gone straight for the absinthe.”

He feels her gag at the mention of alcohol and stops himself from laughing, knowing she would kill him for it even in her inebriated state. “Hindsight is a wonderful thing, Aaron.”

Aaron is about to ask her if she is fine to go back to bed when she wrenches herself from his lap, head bent over the toilet bowl again as she throws up again. He holds her hair with one hand and gently rubs her back between her shoulders. “You’re okay, Em.”

She groans, pulling back and leaning against him.

“You done?” He asks gently, hand still rubbing circles on her back. Her answer is a nod, and he flushes the toilet. He gets on his knees to reach for a washcloth off the counter, and he runs it under the tap before sitting back down next to her.

She apologises again as he washes her face gently with a washcloth, wiping away tears and vomit as she murmurs threats towards Penelope that he knows she would never carry out.

“You’re ok, love.” He soothes, pulling her hair back into a ponytail with a hair tie he had found on the floor.

“I’m a mess.” She laments, leaning against him. “I don’t know why you want to marry me.”

“Because I treasure you.” He replies, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Besides this isn’t that different from when you were pregnant with Ivy, except this time I can make it better.”

“You make everything better.” She mumbles into his neck, finally sounding sleepy. Aaron smiles and kisses the top of her head.

“Do you think you can make it to bed?”

She shakes her head against him. “No.” She swallows, grimacing at the taste in her mouth. “You can go though.”

He scoffs. “Like I’m going to leave you on the bathroom floor alone.” Aaron kisses her forehead. “I’ll be right back.” He leaves the bathroom and grabs a couple of pillows from their bed as well as the comforter.

He sits back down on the floor, and settles with his back to the bath, a pillow between him and the hard surface. He pulls her to his side so she can lay on him, a pillow on his thigh for her to rest her head on. When she’s settled against him he places the comforter over her.

“I’m sorry.” She apologies again, words slurring due to her sleepy state and the alcohol in her system.

“Stop apologising.” He replies, cupping the back of her head. “I love you, part of that is looking after you when you’re sick.”

“Even when it’s self-inflicted?”

“Especially then.” He soothes. “It’s just another way you and Ivy are similar.” He jokes. “I’ve had both of you throw up on me tonight.”

She lifts her head, too quickly if the groan that followed was any indication, and looks at him with concern laced through her features. “She was sick? You should have called.”

“Em.” He placates, lowering her head back down into his lap, scratching his blunt fingernails over her scalp. “She is fine, she just coughed a little too much that's all. It was only once.” He continues the way he’s scratching her head, knowing it never fails to lull her to sleep. “Now try and get some rest, baby. I’ll be here if you need me.”

She sleeps for two hours against him, and when it becomes clear she will sleep through what is left of the night he gently removes himself from under her. Despite a slight protest in his back he picks her up off the floor, gathering her into his arms so he can settle her into their bed. She doesn’t wake at all, a true sign of just how much she must have drunk. He places the comforter back over her and puts an empty trash can on the floor on her side of the bed.

Aaron slips into bed next to her and falls asleep as quickly, the warmth of her body providing comfort he could never find elsewhere. ______________________

Emily wakes up in the morning feeling awful. Aaron is not in bed next to her, but there is a glass of water on the nightstand along with some painkillers. She quickly takes them, carefully sipping the water as she does so, her stomach still unsettled.

She gets in the shower, washes away the lingering stench of liquor she swears she can smell on her skin. And she brushes her teeth to get rid of the awful taste in her mouth.

When she gets downstairs no one is in the house. She grabs her cell phone off of the kitchen counter, not even sure how it got there in the first place, and is about to call Aaron when the front door opens.

Aaron walks in, Ivy’s car seat in one hand and a McDonald’s bag in the other. Jack walks in right behind him, another McDonald's bag in his hands and a big smile on his face. As the smell of greasy food gets to her nose she doesn’t think she has ever loved her fiance more.

“You, Aaron Hotchner, are a GOD.” She kisses him before taking the baby carrier from his hand, leaving it to him to sort out whatever food he’d bought. Emily smiles at Ivy as she lifts her out. “Hi sweet girl. I missed you last night.” Ivy coughs against her and Emily frowns at the pitiful sound that comes out of her. “Oh, baby.”

“Em.”

She turns to look at Aaron and can’t help the laugh that escapes her when she sees the pile of hash browns he has bought.

“I love you so much.” She says as she reaches for one. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

“Me or the hashbrowns?” He quips, a wide smile on his face.

Emily bites into the food in question and groans. “It’s about 50/50 right now I’m not going to lie, honey.” ______________________

Ivy cries throughout their entire wedding ceremony. The little girl reaching for her father from Derek’s arms, clearly feeling as if she was missing out on something.

Aaron looks up at his bride, once again taken aback by how beautiful she looked. She gives him a quick nod before looking down to Jack who was standing by Aaron’s side, and she gives the young boy a wink.

Aaron walks over to the front row and takes Ivy from Derek, her tears clearing up almost instantly when she is in her fathers arms. He goes back to the front, apologising to the officiant before looking back at Emily.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Emily whispers to Ivy. “Didn’t want to miss out on the fun, huh?”

They smile widely at each other when they are told they are man and wife, and she leans forward and kisses him, laughing against his lips when Ivy grabs at her. Tiny fingers digging into the lace of her dress at her shoulder. Emily pulls back from her husband and beams at her daughter, taking her into her own arms. She rests Ivy on her hip and kisses Aaron again.

He places his hand on Emily’s cheek, holds her in place despite the good natured jeering from their guests. When he pulls back he keeps his hand on her face, thumb skimming over her cheek bone. He smiles as he looks at them both together, Ivy resting her head on Emily’s shoulder. He wraps his arm around Jack's shoulder and pulls him towards him, and with his whole family within reach he doesn’t think he’s ever been happier. ______________________

Once the festivities at Dave’s have ended they go back to their own house. Jack and Ivy fast asleep by the time they get home, the long day having taken it out of them. Aaron carries in Jack, and Emily takes Ivy, whispering to him that she’d meet him in their room once they’d settled the kids down.

Aaron pulls Jack’s bedroom door closed behind him and smiles when he sees light still filtering out from under the door to Ivy’s nursery. He walks in and his smile widens when he sees Emily pacing the room, still in her wedding dress, their daughter fast asleep in her arms as she speaks to her in both English and French.

“My girls.” He whispers, and it draws Emily’s attention to him, a beautiful smile on her face and a flush to her cheeks as she sees him.

“She started to wake up when I went to put her down.” Emily explains, tilting her head back to look at the baby against her chest. “Although she seems to be out now.”

“I’ll take her.” He says, reaching his arms out and gently taking Ivy, both relieved when she stays asleep. “You go to bed, love. I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay.” She kisses Ivy’s head. “Goodnight, baby.” ______________________

He helps her unbutton her dress, the tiny buttons down her back almost too small for his hands to undo. She sighs as his hand traces up her spine, loosening the dress over her shoulders. Aaron doesn’t miss how she yawns as she steps out of it, the lingerie underneath the dress briefly distracting him.

She leans back into him, smiling as he wraps his arms around her. “Hi, husband.”

Aaron kisses her temple, his smile wide against her skin. “Hi, wife.” He’s about to trail his hand down her belly, run his fingers over the lace of what she is wearing, but she yawns again and his decision is made.

He shrugs off his jacket and then his shirt, settling the shirt over her shoulders. He turns her around and does up a couple of the buttons before kissing her. When he pulls back he rests his forehead against hers. “Let's get into bed.”

Emily climbs into bed and he follows after stripping off the rest of his clothes. Aaron pulls her towards him, settling her tightly against him.

“Shouldn’t we fuck or something?” She asks, pressing her face into his neck. “It is our wedding night.”

Aaron laughs and grabs her leg, resting it over his waist. He runs his fingers up and down her thigh. “You’re tired, Em. It’s been a long day and you need sleep. We have forever for everything else.”

She hums, sleep already overtaking her. “What did I do to deserve you?”

He kisses her forehead, and gives the only answer he has for her. “You’re you.”

[fruitcoops]

Hi hello I would love to know more about this tidbit from your oher fic? “Three months after we moved in together, Remus slept on the couch for a week because he hated the way I left toothpaste on the sink.” “I wasn’t even angry about the toothpaste.” Remus got up to refill Leo’s water glass. “I was scared we were moving too fast and that everything would fall apart.” pretty please with puppy dog eyes?

Anything for you, Beyonce! Hope you enjoy your trip on the angst train >:)

Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for couples arguments, self-isolation, mild anxiety

Day 1

“Oh my god, Sirius.” Remus shoved his toothbrush back in the holder more aggressively than he probably needed to. His hands were shaking, though whether it was from rage or something else, he wasn’t sure.

“What?”

“Really? Again?”

“What?” Sirius asked again. He had the nerve to sound truly bewildered and the bed creaked as he stood up. “What did I do?”

“You left the toothpaste uncapped and it’s all over the sink,” Remus sighed, running his hand down his face. It was too late to fight about this.

Sirius gave him a look. “Re, there’s literally one smudge.” He swiped it away with his thumb. “There. Better?”

“No, it’s not better. I told you I hate it when you do that.”

“Are you okay? You seem…upset.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” he snapped. Sirius recoiled at his tone and he bit back a second retort. “Look, I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

“What—sweetheart—”

“Don’t call me sweetheart, okay?” Remus grabbed a fresh set of pajama pants and a long-sleeved shirt out of the dresser. He couldn’t handle being surrounded by Sirius’ smell right now. “Just…not tonight.”

 Day Two

They ate breakfast silently. Every ping of Sirius’ spoon against his cereal bowl was like nails on a chalkboard as he choked down a slice of toast and all but chugged his coffee. “So…” Sirius started, looking up at him from under his eyelashes. “Do you want to talk about what happened last night?”

“Not really,” Remus muttered. “I’m going to run to Target and get some groceries.”

“In your pajamas?”

Remus went upstairs without a word. He slept on the living room couch again that night and tried desperately not to miss Sirius’ solid warmth next to him. This is good for you both, he repeated again and again and again. Space is good. Space is healthy.

Day Three

Sirius didn’t bring it up again, but he stole quick, worried glances that Remus caught in his periphery whenever they were in the same room together. There was a gentle knock on the living room doorframe and he poked his head in, offering Remus a grilled cheese sandwich that basically broke his heart. “I’m really sorry about the toothpaste,” he said softly when Remus didn’t respond. “Um, I made dinner, but you seemed busy. So. Here.”

“Thanks,” Remus managed. As soon as he heard the bedroom door close upstairs, silent tears began streaking down his face. The sandwich tasted like sawdust. “You need to breathe,” he reminded himself. “If you move too fast it’s going to fall apart. If you can’t exist apart then you won’t be healthy together.”

And yet somehow he was unhappier than he had been in more than three months, even when they were still living in the same house.

 Day Four

Remus ran errands. Hung out with Lily in the park. Made lunch and left a brief note next to the crock pot for Sirius to find when he was done working out. Love you, it read. Simple. Normal. Healthy.

His back was beginning to cramp from the too-small couch. His feet were cold every night. Lily’s silent concern played over and over again in his head as he drifted into a fitful sleep.

 Day Five

It was getting easier to create distance with Sirius despite the fact that they shared most spaces. He offered quick smiles when they passed each other in the hallway, chaste kisses whenever he left the house, and even scooted over to make room for him on the couch when the Avatar reruns started on Nickelodeon.

“Remus, are you mad at me?” Sirius asked after a period of suffocating silence. Hearing him say his name was strange—his accent curled around it in an unfamiliar way, like he was making a conscious effort not to slip up. Remus squeezed his eyes shut. It was agonizing to be so close to him and yet so far away. They always cuddled on the couch.

“No,” Remus said in a small voice. “No, I’m not mad at you.”

“Is this…are you breaking up with me?” From the soft huff of air that came after it, Remus knew he had been sitting on this for a long time.

“What? No!” He turned, making eye contact for the first time in days. It was brutal and made him feel raw. “No, I love you.”

Sirius’ shoulders folded in slightly and he fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. “Are you coming back to bed soon?”

“I—I don’t know,” Remus forced himself to say. I love you! He wanted to scream. I love you so much it’s scaring me. I miss everything about you, even the toothpaste smudges on the sink and the way you look at me when you find more of my socks scattered around. I miss holding you and racing shopping carts in Target with you. I miss your laugh and your smile and just being near you. “Probably. I’m not sure. I’m sorry.”

“Take your time.” The words sounded like they pained him. “Take all the time you need.”

“This isn’t payback,” Remus said. “Sirius, this is not payback for the time we spent hiding, okay?”

Sirius gave him an astonished look. “How did you…?”

“Because I know you.” He was miserable. So fucking miserable. “I know you, Sirius, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

One question hung unspoken between them. Then why are you staying away?

 Day Six

Sirius was gone when he woke up, but a sticky note in his careful handwriting rested on the end table near Remus’ face. He frowned as he sat up—he been too drained to deal with tangled blankets when he went to sleep, but sometime in the night they had been smoothed all the way up to his shoulder and a second one had been added to cover his feet. Remus shoved down the urge to burst into tears and grabbed the note to distract himself.

Remus, it began. Ouch.

Pots and I are taking Harry to the park today, I’ll be back around six. Lily said she wanted to talk with you at some point so keep an eye out for her calls. Thanks for picking up extra pasta at the store.

Love you,

Sirius

He smoothed his thumb over the note, feeling each bump and curl of Sirius’ pencil because his vision was too blurry to make out the words a second, third, fourth time. “This is bullshit,” he said to himself. “This is bullshit!”

When the slight echo of his shout faded out, he set it back on the table and curled up, drawing both blankets tight around himself. “Why am I doing this?”

1.      You had sex before you went on a real date

2.      You went through a traumatic event and are still working through it

3.      You’re so fucking scared of how much you love him

4.      You want to spend forever with him because he’s your best friend, too

5.      Normal couples date for at least a year before moving in together

6.      Normal couples—

“Fuck it.” He shook his head to clear the anxiety list from his brain. He had been reciting it to himself for days as some sort of convoluted justification. “Fuck it. I love him and this is bad for both of us. So what if we’re not a normal couple? What the hell is a normal couple? We’re never going to be normal and I love him, I love him, I…”

The low sobs that resonated in his chest burned in the best way. His breathing was even, but he just couldn’t repress this anymore. “I’m a coward,” he sniffled, sliding further under the heavy blankets. His pajamas only smelled like laundry detergent and regret. “And an idiot.”

The phone rang and he picked it up. “Hey, Lils.”

“Well, you sound like a wreck.”

“I know.”

“What’s going on, Re?”

“I’m an idiot.”

“And?”

“And I’m in love with him.”

“And?”

“I’m done self-flagellating to try and fit the societal standards of a healthy relationship based on heterosexuality.”

“There’s my Remus,” she said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Are you okay? I was worried about you.”

“Better now. I’ll fix this when Sirius gets home.”

“Good. You’re both suffering from this.”

 Day Seven

When Remus woke up, it was pitch-black outside. “Oh, fuck,” he whispered to the ceiling, scrubbing at his itchy eyes. The wall clock read 12:06. After another thirty minutes of crying, he had cleaned the whole house top to bottom, went for a run, and then apparently passed out on the couch for five hours.

Fix this. In any other circumstance, Remus would have spent at least an hour fretting over every tiny detail. But this was Sirius. This was about owning the fact that he was happiest with Sirius and that he had unintentionally hurt him by trying to create distance that they didn’t actually need.

With a heavy sigh, he dragged himself up the stairs and knocked softly on the bedroom door. There was a moment of silence, then a sleepy voice. “Re?”

“Hey, baby. Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Sirius hadn’t bothered turning on the light, so the room was dark as he slipped in and closed the door behind him. Sudden nervousness washed through him. “I’m sorry.”

There was a rustle as Sirius sat up. “Why did you do that?”

“I thought—” His mouth was so dry. “It’s so stupid.”

“Please tell me.”

“I thought we needed space. I didn’t want space, you didn’t want space, but I was afraid we were moving too fast and that we’d suddenly wake up one morning and hate each other. That everything would crumble because we rushed into everything.”

“Hmmm.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“After day three, yeah. And then I was just worried. You seemed really unhappy and I didn’t know why.” Sirius paused. “Um, I called your mom.”

“What? When?”

“Friday morning. That was what, day…four? I heard you crying downstairs and I was afraid someone had died or something.” His voice wobbled. “She was worried, too, but she said you might just need to work through it.”

“I’m so sorry, Sirius.”

“I know.”

“Can I…?”

“C’mere.” Sirius reached over and lifted the edge of the covers up on Remus’ side—as far as he could tell, they had been left tucked in the whole time. “I love you,” he murmured as Remus curled up.

“I love you so much.” He carefully reached out and brushed their hands together, and Sirius wrapped an arm around him to pull him close. “So much, you have no idea. That was the worst week.”

Sirius’ heartbeat was steady as Remus kissed the top of his head and melted into his warmth. “I capped the toothpaste in the bathroom.”

When Remus laughed, it was a little teary. “I say this with all the love in the world, Sirius, but I couldn’t care less about the goddamn toothpaste. I care about you.”

His hold tightened and Remus squeezed his eyes shut. I know, it said. I’ve got you. I love you. You can stay.

[boymeetsweevil]

SS6 - MYG, FLUFF, 2900w

For @bangtancentricsblogsmain​ because i wanted her to suffer :)

At 3pm, on a Thursday, there’s a knock on Yoongi’s bedroom door. He had come through that very same door not an hour earlier to lock himself away from the world after a particularly draining day. After dropping his bag somewhere on the ground, he showered, removed his contacts, and pushed the laundry waiting to be folded over to the other half of his bed in record time.

Normally he would have joined his roommate and their mutual friend circle who were seated on the couch in the communal living room, eating snacks and watching a game. But this time he begged out with a quiet mumble about needing rest.

When Hoseok knocks, Yoongi makes a feeble sound to signal he’s still, unfortunately, awake.

“What,” Yoongi grumbles. 

He attempts to sit up on one pale elbow and then decides against it. Hoseok’s lips twitch up at how cranky Yoongi is pre-nap before sinking back down as his expression darkens into a pitying and somber mix.

“She’s here. And, uh, she’s asking for you.” Hoseok’s eyes dart back to some unseen spot in the living room.

“Tell her I’m asleep.”

“I know you’re not asleep, Yoongi!” Your voice rings from outside the bedroom and Hoseok cringes sympathetically.

“I’ll just leave,” Hoseok says when you shove your torso through the crack in the doorway.

You wait to start speaking until the bedroom door is shut and the noises from the TV outside wash away.

“Why haven’t you been answering my texts?”

“Sorry, I’ve been busy,” is all you get.

The backpack you carry drops unceremoniously to the ground with a thud and any dregs of sleep cloying to Yoongi’s brain vanish with the sound. It’s with a valiant effort that he shoves his face deeper into his pillow. You cock your head to look at your best friend and snort at him.

Yoongi’s glasses are skewed across his face. There are thin pink lines marring the left side of his face from lying pressed to the wrinkled sheets with glasses on. The platinum blond waves of his hair, normally coiffed styled, are squashed flat against his forehead. Rarely ever does he look this rumpled and it’s hilarious.

“That’s okay, I’ll just tell you what I wrote in the texts,” you say as you make your way further into Yoongi’s small room. 

A look down at your feet shows him that you’ve shoved your feet into the pair of bunny slippers he got for guests you when he and Hoseok first moved in almost a year ago.

“Basically,” you continue. “There’s good news and there’s bad news. Pick one.” You help yourself to his desk chair and swivel it so it faces him.

“Bad news first,” Yoongi says after some deliberation. He pulls the covers up to his chin more securely.

“Smart choice,” you nod sagely. “The bad news is I’m gonna have to paint your face.”

“What the hell,” Yoongi barks.

“But the good news is that I have a new job as a face painter at the kids’ section of the farmer’s market this season!”

“How is that good news for me?”

“It means I’ll be slightly less broke and I can stop asking you to buy me breakfast before our 9am.”

Yoongi doesn’t really know whether to laugh or to cry. Firstly, there’s no way in hell he’s letting you paint his face. You’ve always been shit at drawing and letting you showcase that on his skin doesn’t do him any favors. Secondly, he’s in his twenties and he doesn’t even go to the farmer’s market. There’s no reason for him to set foot on the town commons during sunny Saturdays for local produce, much less to get his face painted next to a pen full of smelly goats and screaming kids. He’s just not seeing the connection between you getting this job and him getting his face painted. He stares at you with the hope that you’ll back off but he finds that you’re just blinking back at him with a huge, proud pretty grin.

For a moment Yoongi wants to smile back like things are normal. He wants to put on a groan and act like he’s annoyed that he’s been “forced” to order you sugary coffee drinks and muffins using his own money for longer than he can remember. He wants to gently muss your hair to see you make that cute shocked face you always make. But he can’t. 

Because if he does all that, he might slip up again like he did last weekend. 

At 10:24pm, Friday of last week, Yoongi told you he loved you while one small bottle of liquid courage was sloshing away in his stomach. After seconds of silence ticked by like the bangs of a gong, you replied. A sing-songy ‘Aww. I love you too, Yoongi’ and a light pat on the arm. Your words were basically the mirror image of his, but somehow also starkly different. Disappointment walked him home early that night and embarrassment laid him low the following week.

But it was just a week, he’d reasoned with himself, you’d hardly notice anyway...

“Yoongi? You okay?”

“No,” he hisses and shakes his head gently to dislodge memories of that pathetic weekend.

“Are you sure?”

“Why do you need to paint my face?”

“For practice! The market doesn’t open for another month but I need to get good. Jungkook said that if I do it really well the parents will leave bigger tips.”

“So Jungkook is behind all this.”

“Yeah,” you chirp. “He’s been really helpful in the last week. Usually I’d vent to you about how broke I am but since you were so busy, I ended up hanging out with Kook. He’s honestly really resourceful and he got me the job really fast.”

The hairs on the back of Yoongi’s neck bristle at the mention of the younger “peer”. Jungkook was a constant presence at group hangouts for a long while but Yoongi could only ever think of him as a friend of a friend. There was something smarmy about the guy’s smile that he didn’t like. And the way he was always draping himself over you, teasing you, buying you food that was all his job. He can’t put his finger on what it is exactly, but something about Jungkook always put Yoongi in a shit mood.

Yoongi curses under his breath. “Why couldn’t he get you a job at the cotton candy station or managing the photo booth or something?”

“What’s up with you lately? Do you really hate the idea of helping me that much?”

“It’s just annoying,” Yoongi huffs childishly from under the blanket.

“Fine, I’ll just ask Jungkook, then.”

“No! Wait!” Your eyes flash with hope. “I’ll do it. Just—don’t bother him. Since he already gave you the job, I mean.”

“Oh, thank god. I felt really bad about asking him for even more help.”

You turn around and pull out a face painting kit from thin air and begin scooting the desk chair towards the bed. When you’re close enough, you frown.

“What?” Yoongi sniffs at his sheets for good measure. All clean.

“Nothing. It’s just...” You look down at the ground and then the chair and then at Yoongi before looking at the chair again. “I usually practice on shorter surfaces so I can get used to working with the kids.”

“Oh, just pull the little lever underneath the chair. Raising and lowering the chair is Hoseok’s favorite thing to do when he comes in here, I swear.”

You reach under the seat like Yoongi instructed, find the little lever, and tug. There’s a low hissing sound before the seat suddenly drops 5 inches. You let out a yelp while Yoongi tries to stifle a laugh at your terrified expression.

“I guess—I guess Hoseok pulled the lever too much,” Yoongi’s voice creaks with laughter. Even when you flick him in the forehead he keeps laughing.

“Yoongi, this isn’t funny. I need to practice.”

“Just so you know there’s no way I’m getting on the floor. I’ve changed my clothes and I’m actually in the bed.”

He knows he’s being a bit of a dick at the moment, but he’s only trying to rile you up. He’s not expecting you to start to get up on the bed after flipping him off. The laundry he placed on his bed that morning to force himself to fold now laughs at him from its position shoved against the wall.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I need to be higher than you to paint your face. And you’re not getting up, right?”

“Well, no. But—”

“So this is where I’m gonna work.”

You shrug like it’s not a big deal that you’re straddling him. Like it’s not a big fucking deal that your soft thighs now rest on either side of his torso, that you casually rest a hand on his ribcage while setting up the painting kit along his sternum. He hopes your hand stays further south only to prevent the rapid beating of his heart from being discovered under your palm.

“What design do you want,” your voice is quiet now that you’re closer. 

Makes sense. No need to yell. But it still drives Yoongi crazy that you’re basically whispering in his ear as you lean over him to grab at the unused cup of water behind the bed frame. You revive your paints with the water while he tries to keep his breathing in check, lest he cause your paints to tumble off his torso and stain his sheets in a pastel rainbow.

“Uhh, how about an old style tiger?”

“Really,” you deadpan, “I tell you I’m just starting to learn to paint and you ask for a tiger?”

“Fine. Stars, then.” He gulps when you look right at him, face flushing to create the perfect pink canvas.

“Oh, I can do that. No reference needed.”

It seems deadly quiet in Yoongi’s room. The sounds of the living room long since died down when a crowd favorite started playing and captured everyone’s attention. Now there’s only yours and his intermingled breathing and the sound of your brush tinkling against glass.

You lean down from your perch to focus on carving out a swatch of night sky to blanket Yoongi’s stars. Your breath softly puffs low against his left cheek at the same moment the wet tip of the paintbrush hits his skin. His breath hitches a little and he’s not sure which is the culprit.

“Hold still, okay?” Your words come out in a whisper. 

“Okay,” he whispers back.

Minutes pass and two shaky stars are born on Yoongi’s cheekbone. You shift around on his chest to stabilize yourself and in your movement you lose your footing a little, your right leg slipping off the edge of the mattress.

“Ah—”

“I got you,” Yoongi grunts a little as his hands fly to your hips.

He easily stops your momentum and your paints, clutched desperately in your hands, remain safe from the ground. The pads of his fingers are still dug lightly into the meat of your hips and waist. In that moment you remember just how big Yoongi’s hands are.

“T-thanks.”

“No problem.” 

A slow grin spreads on Yoongi’s face when he notices that suddenly you can’t make eye contact like you were just a few moments prior.

You do your best to continue, but your gaze keeps flitting to his, only to find that he’s already looking at you. It sets something hot aflutter in your chest. The points of the stars that you thought you had a handle on turn soft and wobbly once more. 

“Look up,” you ask when you’re out of other options and keep having to paint over your work.

Yoongi has to bite his tongue to keep from chuckling at how jittery you seem. It feels good to know that the effects of this proximity are mutual, that you’re feeling just as lightheaded from sitting in his lap as he is from having you sit in it.

“You almost done?” He drawls. He’s been counting the small irregularities in the paint on his ceiling to keep entertained.

“Uh, yeah, almost.”

He feels the cold kiss of the brush tip once, twice more before it returns to its makeshift home of the water glass with a clink.

“Do you...wanna see what it looks like,” you sit up then. 

There’s a small hand mirror across the room that you’re eyeing. But he stops you with a squeeze to your hips, reminding you that his hands have been resting there this whole time.

“Just use my phone,” he nods to the device lying abandoned in the sheets. “Take a picture.”

“Okay.”

For some reason, your hands are shaking even with the paintbrush gone and the need for focus lifted. Mechanically you wake Yoongi’s phone from sleep and access the camera app to take a photo, shifting your weight to your knees to get above him and snap a pic. Curiosity makes you open the photo album app to see the photo you just took instead of showing it to him first. The result takes your breath away. 

Yoongi looks blissfully content, almost smugly so, as he gazes up at the camera. The stars under his eyes and on the bridge of his nose look like glowing yellow freckles amidst the banner of deep navy and rich purples you used to craft the sky across his cheekbones. The paint looks good and it’s probably even your best job yet, but you can’t help yourself from looking elsewhere.

Yoongi’s tousled bed head, soft sleep shirt, and dreamy eyes bring a cloud of butterflies to your stomach. The final killer touch of the photo is the fact that your knees just barely enter the bottom of the photo. Yoongi’s hands rest on each one like they belong there.

“Yoongi.” You breathe his name like a sigh and that’s when he surges up, as if to catch his name on your lips.

The kiss takes you by surprise and you tumble down to him in a soft pile of limbs. He hums a long, pleased sound when your weight settles on top of him. The hands he had on your knees suddenly grow restless and they amble up your thighs, up your waist, around your back. His hands are ever busy gliding over as much of you as they can in the moments that you let your lips press firmly against his.

Idly you pick out the details you notice with your eyes drifting closed. Yoongi’s breath leaves his nose in puffs against your face and his sighs echo quiet in your ears. His hair is soft between your fingers and so is the collar of the worn shirt that he’s wearing. The sheets that have raised around you like makeshift linen mountains smell just like Yoongi’s sweet soap, warmed with sleep.

“Shouldn’t we—”, he plants a kiss on your mouth, “shouldn’t we talk about this,” you mumble against his lips.

Yoongi’s hands stop in their tracks along the midpoint of your spine. The sigh he lets out is long suffering.

“Sorry. I just—I got carried away.”

“I mean, you don’t have to apologize for it. I just...thought you saw me as a friend.”

“Do friends confess their love for each other? That’s new.”

“L-love?” Your eyes turn wide and starry. “When have either of us ever confessed our love?”

“Well, I did. At the bar. Or did you have to block that memory out?”

Your brow furrows at the self-deprecating turn his smile takes and you clasp one of his still-wandering hands.

“You mean—Yoongi, I thought you were just being mushy. I thought you meant, like, ‘I love that we’re all here together as friends right now’. If I had known that was a real confession,” you trail off.

“You what?” 

Yoongi’s mood elevates once more, enjoying the sudden turn your rambling is taking. Teasingly he bucks his hips under you, startling you out of your bashful silence and forcing you to press two hands to his chest for balance. A cute little sound leaves your lips and he’s tempted to do it again.

“You were saying,” he grins up at you and his hands start to wander once again.

“I would have—”

“Baby, speak up.” He’s all coos but there’s a little venom in his voice. He likes how embarrassed you are.

“I would have left with you that night. If I had known.”

His shirt wrinkles up where your fingers twist anxiously. Normally you trample through Yoongi’s space, no shame or hesitation in the way you leave him on his toes. It had always been a fun game for you to see how close you could get before he’d have to draw a line, before his besotted smile would become too hard to hide. But now you’re not so sure you can handle it directed at you in all its glory.

“That’s a nice idea,” he says. 

In one moment he looks like he’s really weighing the idea, serious in his appraisal. The next moment he’s tugging you down when you least expect it, bringing a corner of the blanket to envelope you both. Under the cover of weak darkness, he threads a hand through the hair at the base of your neck. 

“Why don’t you tell me about it?”

[goldencatchflies]

𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞

⇾ ⋆ [𝐆𝐢𝐟 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭: @ag-ib] ⋆ ⇽ ⇾ ⋆ [𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, historians would call them friends...] ⋆ ⇽ ⇾ ⋆ [𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Food, very slight mentions of bombing and getting hurt] ⋆ ⇽ ⇾ ⋆ [𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2591] ⋆ ⇽ ⇾ ⋆ [𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎3] ⋆ ⇽ ⇾ ⋆ [𝐀/𝐍: I’m turning this into a very long slowburn series, and the first part is Cherries and Strawberries. Y’all have @kermitsaysgayrights to thank, because if it wasn’t for her, I wasn’t going to write a part two, and wouldn’t’ve gotten invested enough to turn into a series so... also, disclaimer that they are 5 year olds in grown men meat suits, thank you for coming to my tedtalk!] ⋆ ⇽ ⇾ ⋆ [𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @blakes-dictionxry ⋆ @reese-the-edgy-enby ⋆ @spencerreidstie ⋆ @reidrights ⋆ @sergio--prentiss ⋆ @agentshortstacc ⋆ @suburban--gothic ⋆ @cloudy-reid ⋆ @hannibalslut ⋆ @pretty-b0yy ⋆ @abitcriminalminds ⋆ @misspenelopegarcia ⋆ @spencers-renaissance] ⋆ ⇽

⇾ ⋆ [𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: "He’s kept quiet for all this time, but there was something - a feeling in his gut - that told him he wouldn’t be able to keep this charade up for much longer."] ⋆ ⇽

“Pretty boy! Whatcha doin’ tonight?” Morgan sat on Emily’s desk as he leaned over the divider to talk to his friend.

“Oh, I was going to re-watch this hour-long documentary on seahorses! I’d ask if you want to come, b-“ before Reid could finish his sentence, Morgan interrupted him.

“Sound good! I’ll be there at 8!” He spoke as he leaned off the table and moved towards his own desk. Spencer’s face lit up like a Christmas tree as he gasped.

“Really?!” He said with the brightest smile on his face as he frantically started packing his stuff. Morgan stared in adoration for a little bit before he started pacing his own belongings, but Reid spoke up again before he could say anything.

“You are going to love it! In my opinion, seahorses are one of the most fascinating creatures, and I re-watch that documentary every now and then, and even though I have it all memorized, it never ceases to amaze me!” Derek gave him a small smile, and the young man mumbled something about leaving now to get everything ready- including popcorn, earning a chuckle from Morgan. He was on his way out when he turned around and sprinted towards Derek’s arms, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Morgan hugged back immediately, furring his brows in confusion before he heard Reid’s muffled voice, barely above a whisper. “Thank you!”

<- —————— ->

It was about 7:50 when Morgan left his apartment, making his way over to his friend. He wore a tight black t-shirt, a grey hoodie, and some dark rifle green cargo pants to match. He made his way out the door and into his car, making sure to pass by the trusty coffee shop, getting him and his boy their favorite deserts. He knocked on the door once he reached it, and was met by Spencer’s shy smile on the other end. He stepped out of the way to let Derek in, beaming happily when he noticed the bag on his hand and sniffed, getting a whip of the pastries.

“You didn’t!” He locked the door as quickly as he could, trying not to waste any time, as Morgan just chuckled, kicking off his shoes to the side.

“Oh yes I did!” The smiles across each other’s face could make anyone wonder just how their cheeks weren’t hurting. Derek made his way around Spencer’s couch, but before he sat down, Reid stopped him.

“Oh no no no no no, we’re staying my room because the CD doesn’t work on the player here for some reason, and besides, I wanna be laying down, so...” he said, as he cooked his head towards his bedroom, disappearing behind the door, with Morgan following suit after.

There was a bowl of popcorn on the nightstand, and the bed was set on the corner of the room, a TV at its feet above a drawer cabinet that seem to be a couple hundred years old. There was this rustic design to Reid’s bedroom that didn’t seem to match the rest of his house, and though Morgan had come over may times, he’d never actually enter the boys room, despite the desire to do so. You see, Derek Morgan had a problem. One he’s had for about 8 years. This... problem... had evolved within the very first year of him knowing the boy.

He realized his problem the very first time Spencer got hurt. They were at some station in the middle of a case, when someone with a bomb around them decided to enter, their goal being to take out as many people as they could along with them selves. The team had all been injured, along with most of the officers at the station, but Derek could only think about Spencer. He realized then, his problem. This said problem being... he had feelings for the young man. He’s kept quiet for all this time, but there was something - a feeling in his gut - that told him he wouldn’t be able to keep this charade up for much longer.

“Are you gonna keep staring or do you wanna sit down?” Spencer mumbled with a smirk, looking at Derek through his lashes.

“Right, sorry...” he breathed out, taking off his sweatshirt and laying next Spencer. He’d completely forgotten the pies until he heard a slight hum come from beside him. He looked over to see Spencer biting into his pie, furrowing his brows in concentration, with a slight smile as he tasted the treat.

“You’re doing it again...” he said, turning his head to meet Morgan’s gaze, snapping the him out of his thoughts once more. Derek blinked rapidly, before chuckling. “Anything you wanna tell me?” The boy whispered, looking at the TV and away from Morgan.

“Yeah, actually...” he started, sitting cross-legged, facing the boy laying next to him. Spencer lifted himself upwards, holding his upper-body up on his elbows, looking at Morgan in curiosity. “When was...” Derek looked at him fondly before continuing. “When was the las time you washed your hair?” He smirked down that the boy, as he sat up to hit Morgan’s chest.

“Morgan! You scared me! I thought it was something important!” He kept hitting the older agent’s shoulder as they laughed. Morgan grabbed the controlled from Spencer’s nightstand, pausing the documentary they were no longer watching, and he shoved the boy off the bed, making him nearly fall before he was able to catch himself. “I can shower later!” He whined, but Derek wasn’t listening.

“Nah nah nah! You go wash that head of yours, I’m not gonna play with no greasy hair!” Spencer raised his brows at that, before scoffing, never once dropping his smile. He nodded slightly, smirking as Derek winked, before he grabbed the towel behind the door and disappeared into the bathroom. Derek watched as the boy walked away, eyes traveling all over.

Spencer stepped out about 10 minutes later, noticing Derek’s pie was gone, and there were a couple extra bite marks on his own that weren’t there before. He rocked a white t-shirt with a brown cardigan and grey sweatpants. Morgan moved the cardigan out of the way to read the letters on the shirt once Spencer reached the bed again, drying his head with a towel.

“Plain t-shirt” Derek whispered and chuckled as he read, poking Spencer’s side where the drawing of a paper plane was outlined on his shirt.

“Did you eat my pie?” Spencer asked, earning another laugh from the older agent. “Derek! You had your own!” He smacked Morgan’s chest as he complained, and Derek spun him around, sitting the boy on his lap.

“Shhhh, here”- he picked up the remote, and handed it to his friend -“watch the pretty seahorses!” He changed the topic as he started running his hand through Spencer’s hair, taking another bite out of the pie before handing it to him.

“Hey, I saw that!” The boy complained again, as an untrustworthy smile crept onto his face, and blush rose to his cheeks when Derek just smirked and placed a soft kiss to the young man’s cheek. “This conversation is not over!”

“Uhum!” Derek furrowed his brows and nodded, turning the boys face back to the TV in front of them, as he resumed interlocking his hand with Spencer’s hair. He made braids in the boy only to destroy them again once he got to the ends, and repeated this for almost half an hour. “Spence?” He whispered once he noticed how relax the boy was and how he swayed slightly from side to side. He placed a hand under the boy’s chin, turning it sideways as he peaked from behind him, startling Reid awake.

“Hm?” He asked, completely oblivious to the butterflies violently flapping their wings in Morgan’s stomach, some having the utter audacity to rise to his chest. “‘M sorry...” he mumbled softly closing his eyes again for a few moments, before opening them again, trying to brush it off as a long blink. “Tht’s weird, m’never happened before”- he mumbled again, rubbing his eyes as Derek stared in adoration once more. “I don’t usually fall asleep watching documentaries...” he said a little more clearly before a yawn.

“Don’t worry pretty boy, here,” Derek lifted Spencer so he could slide off the bed, grabbing the pretty paper that had come with their pies, and bawling it his fist. He laid Spencer backwards onto the mattress, before pausing the CD and somehow managing to remove the covers from under Spencer, draping them over him as the boy closed his eyes again. “I’ll be right back, ok?” Reid nodded against his pillow while Derek left the room.

The older agent returned to room a few moments later to find what it seemed like a fast-asleep-doctor-reid. He smiled at Spencer, letting his mind wander off again.

“You really got stop doing that...” Spencer’s voice rang through the quiet room, bringing Morgan back down from the clouds. Spencer patted the bed behind him, moving closer to the edge to give the older agent enough space. Derek raised is brows as he made his way to lay next to Spence. “‘M take off your pants” the boy sighed out, earning a confused look from his friend.

“Excuse me?” He took a step back, looking over the boy.

“Don’t want your dirty pants in ma’ bed!” He mumbled grumpily. “You’re not getting in here with pants on, so if you want cuddles you gotta take them off!” He raised his brows as he spoke, not once opening his eyes, yet sounding much more awake them before. Derek just chuckled at the boys attitude, trying his hardest not to read into this.

And he didn’t! He didn’t read into the situation until he was laying next the Spencer, and the boy sunk into his chest. He didn’t read into anything until Spencer turned around and was just a few inches away from Dereks face. The young man moved down a little, nuzzling his face onto Dereks chest, and placed one of his hands on Derek’s chest, draping the other one around his torso. It was impossible for Derek not to read into it. So he let his mind wander.

He wandered what it would be like if they did this every night, and the next morning when they woke up? Would Spencer be angry? He didn’t want to think about that, so he played into the fantasy where he didn’t. Instead he thought about waking up next to a sleeping Reid. And the thought was enough to send him away into his own dreams.

He woke up to the sound of a phone vibrating from under the pillow. Spencer was laying completely on top of him, with his head directly next Derek’s on the pillow, facing inwards where he breathed small puffs of air onto the older man’s cheek in his sleep. Morgan had a hand around the boys waist and the other draped to the side. He moved it to find the source of the frequency, answering the phone once his eyes had adjusted to the lighting from the window.

“Morgan!” He mumbled sleepily as a squeal came from the other end of the phone, loud enough to startle Spencer awake.

“What the fuck Derek?” The boy’s tone was annoyance, but a blush formed in his chest and made its way onto his face once he rose to his elbows and realized how close their faces were.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!!!” They heard Penelope squeal through the phone interrupting their longing stare. “You know what, hotch wanted you here in 30 minutes, but you have an hour!” She said right before she hung up, not giving them any chance to explain themselves. When Morgan looked at the screen he realized he had Spencer’s phone in his hand, and he looked back at the boy above that was still staring down into Derek’s eyes.

“I- I’m sorry, Morgan, I don’t know what happened, I just- I- I’m sorry!” He stuttered as he lifted himself off the bed, and made his way into the bathroom before Derek could give him a response. Morgan closed his eyes and sighed out as he got up to put his pants back on.

“Hey Spence, I’m gonna... I’m gonna head out, I’ll meet you there, kid!” He spoke into the bathroom door, earning an ‘ok’ from the other side. As he was making his way out he heard the bathroom door open.

“Wait!” Spencer called out, making Derek turn around. “We have an hour so... um, I was thinking, maybe we could pass by that coffee shop and get something to eat?” He asked shyly, fiddling with his hands. Derek smiled at him, as he made his way to the couch.

“Sounds good! I’ll wait out here so you can uh”- he gestured his hands up and down Spencer’s body from across the room, making the boy look down.

“Right! Ok, give me five minutes! The remote is on top of the TV, if you wanna watch anything...” he whispered, making his way back into his room, coming out minutes later with a white button up, and a 3 pice suit with different shades of brown.

<- —————— ->

They sat at a table for two near the door, and Derek went up to the cashier while Spencer stayed behind, staring at the waving flag the was placed on the other side of the window. Derek came back a few moments later with their pies and coffees.

“Oh thank god! I’ve been dying to have one of these!” He said picking up the pie, taking a big bite out of it, making Morgan chuckle.

“Pretty boy, you had one last night!” He laughed as Spencer tried to explain with a mouthful. He furrowed his brows as he spoke, covering his lips, as Derek just laughed harder.

“Derek!” Was the only thing the other man could make out. Spencer’s fake-annoyed tone rang between them, along with muffled and incomprehensible explanations and, of course, the older man’s lovely laughter. The boy finally swallowed his food before he began “complaining” again.

“As I was saying,” He mocked, widening his eyes and shaking his head playfully, making Derek giggle - giggle! - as he kept up his fake-annoyed rant. “I wouldn’t be craving this if someone” - he emphasized -“hadn’t eaten like half of my pie yesterday!” He smirked, knowing damn well Derek was having the time of his life. The older man put a hand across his stomach, trying to calm down his laughter - it didn’t work.

“Alright, alright!” He threw his hands up in surrender, never dropping his smile, instead making Spencer smirk harder as he dug back into his breakfast. “I won’t eat your pie next time, I promise!” This earned him a skeptical look and a grin from the man in front of him, as he started on his own treat and beverage.

They finished pretty soon after, and rushed to work as fast as they could. They reached the bullpen about 45 minutes after Garcia’s call, and made their way into the briefing room.

“Why are you two so la- you know what, I don’t wanna know, just keep it professional at work!” Hotch told them from his place in the briefing room, and they shared a look. Before either one could explain themselves, however, Penelope winked at them, as she resumed where they’d left off.

Penelope Garcia, Derek thought to himself as they sat down, what have you done?

[c-c-cherry]

Jojos Doing Jojo Things (with each other)✨😌

*sweating as the part 5 hc asks start piling up in my inbox*

 *looks at the one that mentions Jonathan*

Hello~~ I’m sorry for being criminally inactive here, I forgot during that long 6 month lockdown that I actually had a real life outside of the internet and now I have to go do real life things?? Instead of doing nothing but writing?? Crimes, I tell you.

I love the idea of Jonathan interacting with all the other jojos so I thought I’d take a little break from part 5 whump headcanons to fulfill this one :D SO HERE’S SOME SELF-INDULGENT HEADCANONS ABOUT JONATHAN DOING FUN LITTLE ACTIVITIES WITH THE OTHER JOJOS BECAUSE I KNOW WE ALL NEED IT RIGHT NOW😭😭😭

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Joseph (lets say Youngseph in this case because shhh)

-Hear me out but KNITTING

-Let this man do some nice calm things please

-Joseph has absolutely no way to connect with Jonathan. Like. Nothing.

-He doesn’t see the two of them as anything alike even though they both have the star, and when it comes to connecting with such a righteous, nice dude he’s a bit :/ about it

-He also doesn’t want to do anything stupid (In his words.) He hates baking, he’s never been into reading and school, and the two can never really click with sports

-Our man Jonathan has searched his heart and soul for something to bring the two of them together but Joseph is always just not into it >:(

-He’s almost given up on connecting at all BUT—

-One thing they do have in common? Erina.

-BOOM. Johnny-boy suddenly has ideas >:)

-Joseph is really put off when Jonathan shows up with a ball of yarn and needles and in the most innocent way possible he’s like “I have something to show you ^-^”

-the first thing Joseph thinks is NO FUCKING WAY. If Caesar or his mother or anyone caught him fucking knitting he’d never be able to live it down

-So instead he just watches as Jonathan sits by the fire, and it looks really boring at first but he just starts going at it

-And of course the gears start turning and all his brain sees is “fast task?? task I can be good at? something quick my hands can do??”

-And Jonathan looks up to take a break to see Joseph perched on the edge of the chair in complete awe, but the moment he asks if he wants to know how to do it, Joseph gets really withdrawn :/

The rest of their conversation goes a little like this:

“Isn’t that meant for girls?”

“Why would hats and scarves be only for girls?”

“But its—”

“You know...I’m making Erina a matching hat and scarf for her birthday. I could use a little help with the scarf…”

“...”

“We can make it a race.”

And with a fire lighting in his eyes, Joseph accepts the contest even though he has no idea what he’s doing. But isn’t that what he does best?

-Needless to say, he becomes obsessed.

-When his greatest fear comes true and Caesar finds out, he’s too obsessed to care about the teasing

-Joseph is good at something that Caesar isn’t. Caesar is jealous. Caesar picks up knitting.

-Are knitting contests even a thing?? I don’t care because Joseph and Caesar could probably open a fucking etsy shop with all the stuff they make (and absolutely shamelessly at that)

-Anytime they meet someone new it's immediately “which hat is better?” “Joseph’s is worse, right?” “Can you start the stopwatch for us?”

-Even in his older years, he never actually stopped making things for Holy, Suzi, and even sometimes Jotaro (thought Joot wouldn’t be caught dead wearing any of it in public)

-He actually progresses past knitting and making clothes in general becomes a secret passion of his

-The hat he’s wearing in part 4? He definitely made that. And don’t even think he doesn’t send Josuke the tackiest shit in the mail

Jonathan is very proud :)

Jotaro

-Animals. Is that even a question?

-Jonathan was always more of a dog or cat person, but the moment he finds out that Jotaro’s interested in marine life? MAN GOES ALL OUT

-He not only researches the shit out of marine biology just so he can hold up a conversation with him, but he also buys A SHIT TON OF BOOKS for his favourite angst man

-We all know that Jotaro isn’t exactly a man of words, but his heart is touched when they exchange a few sentences and Jonathan shows up the next day with a book all about what they were talking about🥺

-Like—Jonathan was always scolded for never listening to his father, but when it comes to stuff like this, Jotaro swears he’s able to read his mind

-Most people can barely get him to utter a sentence, but when these two are alone they’ll talk for hours about the ocean

-Holy was actually pretty worried for a while that Jotaro rarely ever opened up to anyone, but after seeing the two of them talk it was like a weight lifted off her shoulders :)

-They go on trips all the time to study water life. First, it's just to the river a few minutes away. Then they start going out to the lake nearby, and then they’re suddenly borrowing Joseph’s private boat and going on all these “research trips” together

-Which just consist of Jotaro taking hundreds of pictures and surprisingly never shutting up about what he sees (which is definitely a first)

-They pass by snooty, rich fishermen all the time who make fun of them for only looking at the animals, and Jonathan secretly uses Hamon to attract the fish to anywhere but where the fishers are lol

-I can blame snipster on instagram for introducing me to Smiletaro but the pure happiness and smiles of happy Joot on this boat with Jonathan is like a DRUG

-Star Platinum is absolutely thrilled, and when Jonathan realizes that Star is an amazing artist, he actually buys the stand a cute little purple notebook to draw all the ocean life they come across :3

-The moment they get back to shore Jotaro’s all -_- again around people, but you can still see the excitement in his eyes if you look hard enough

-When he gets into school for marine biology, Jonathan is so fucking proud

-This is an au which means anything can happen so I formally declare that Jonathan definitely got Jotaro those golden dolphin-shaped coat pins when the man first goes off to Uni

-He wears them as a good luck charm :3

Josuke

-Josuke is soooo easy to get along with, especially since both of them are such warm people :)

-Jonathan figures that it wouldn’t be hard to find something fun to do together, but when he actually thinks about it...he really knows nothing about what Josuke likes to do

-He ends up just asking the kid next time they see each other, and they end up just agreeing to teach each other one thing the other doesn’t know

-Because the power of KNOWLEDGE BABYYY

-Josuke shows up the next day with an entire fucking Nintendo 64 and is absolutely set on teaching him how to play something

-Erina just kinda watches like 👁👄👁 as Josuke plugs it in and Jonathan is confused but also SUPER EXCITED because he barely even knows what a video is but there are also video games??

-After much internal debate, Josuke decides on Ocarina of Time because he’s worried Jonathan will have a fucking heart attack if they play something like Mario Kart

-Also he thinks Jojo would enjoy the whole “righteous hero coming of age” archetype thing because,,,you know,,,

-They start it up and immediately Jonathan is like WHAT and has no idea how to play and dies in ways that Josuke didn’t even know were possible, but they somehow make it to the first temple with a lot of help from Josuke

-Right before the boss fight, his mom pulls up like “bitch we gotta go come on” so Josuke sees no harm in leaving the system at Jonathan’s and coming back next week

-Oho,,,ohohooo,,,

-He comes back a week later to a dark house,,,Erina’s off on some trip, and he can hear the faintest “HYAH!” coming from the living room

-He walks in to find Jonathan in the exact same spot he left him, ALL OTHER SAVE FILES ARE COMPLETE, and he’s in some obscure location doing a side quest Josuke didn’t even know existed

-Turns out he’s really good at quest games

-After Josuke realizes that Jonathan’s managed to beat the game more than once, he asks if he wants to try out another game

-To which Jonathan replies: “There’s MORE?”

.

-Aside from giving Jonathan a crippling video game addiction, Josuke also learns a vital thing about Jonathan Joestar

-Hamon ^-^

-Josuke’s a little surprised that Jonathan can even see his stand, and Jonathan has no other way to explain it than that it must be connected to his Hamon somehow

-To which Josuke is like “what” and Jonathan realizes that his stupid fucking grandson decided not to tell ANY OTHER Joestar about Hamon

-He’s no Zeppeli, but he could try and teach him...even if it didn’t work, it would still be a nice bonding activity

-When Jonathan finds out that Josuke’s stand ability is revolved around healing, he’s overjoyed because he might have a better chance

-They start small with breathing exercises and meditation, which eventually lead to Jonathan trying to teach Josuke how to make things like flowers

-Since it doesn’t exactly come naturally to Josuke, things don’t exactly work out,,,but both are unsurprisingly happy when Josuke manages to make a single flower bloom :3

-It’s not much, but it’s there and it honestly makes Josuke feel much better knowing that he could eventually learn how to heal himself, too :)

Giorno

-Jonathan considered teaching Giorno Hamon a while ago, but he realized that his stand already has the properties of Hamon, if not just in a more humanoid form

-And when Jojo puts two and two together that he and his son can both grow a lot of plant life, he has the perfect idea

-Garden buddies!!!! :D

-They grow everything you could possibly think of, and to top it all off, Giorno fills the garden with all this animal life :)

-When it comes to biology, Giorno never shuts up about it. He’s the quietest kid when it comes to virtually anything else but prepare for MAJOR info dumps about frogs and his vast knowledge of flowers

-Speaking of flowers, them just sitting and growing them together and talking about all of their favourites? Yes please

-Although they love to accelerate plant growth, there’s one patch in the middle of the garden that they’re determined to grow naturally

-Also them growing and eating carambola (star fruit) together because it’s my pocket dimension that makes no sense and I get to decide what fun fruits the Joestars get to eat together

-the garden becomes a great place for picnics and outings and the best place to go when things get too chaotic

-Giorno starts a plant journal where he records everything that ends up growing there, and Jonathan starts impulse buying all these flower guide books so they can look at pictures of them and put their favourites in the garden :3

-They end up creating a little pond in the middle of everything, and Giorno puts a whole bunch of frogs and fish in it and it's all very tranquil and calm and nice :))

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I was gonna do part 6 (maybe part 7 too?) but mental energy? I don’t know her, sorry y’all :(

Feel free to add on though!! I wanna see what y’all would think Jonathan would wanna do with Jolyne or anyone else I missed :D My first thought for Jolyne was Rugby because Jonathan was a rugby KING and I feel like she’d be really good at it lmao

[bewaretheidesofmarchyall]

Soulmate Shenanigans

So, lucky me, I found this list of prompts!

Unlucky me, it was for a September event. Surprise, surprise, this is not September

That isn’t going to stop me from doing this, though!

So, without further ado, prompt number one!

Your Soulmate’s name is written on your wrist or palm

Warnings for death mentions galore and drowning, as well as something that isn’t drug use, but if drug use is a triggering topic for you I wouldn’t recommend you read

Not as angsty as these warnings would suggest, but there is still Angst

I don’t know how it got angsty I just work here

World building

The first recorded instance of a palm mark was when Lady Natalia of Venice nearly drowned in a canal

She’d been on her way home from a party alongside her fiance when she “tripped” (the word “tripped” here means “Was pushed by her fiance for financial reasons”) into the river. Her husband-to-be quickly exited the scene, leaving her to be weighed down by her skirts and die.

Angela (forger of swords and mixer of poisons, just happened to be in the neighborhood when she heard a scream and a splash) had other plans. She dove into the water, saving Natalia and cutting her hand in the process.

The two women spent a good deal of time together after that, the scientific Natalia claiming that she only wanted to know why her name was on Angela’s hand.

Some historians claim that the two were platonic soulmates. While this is possible, and platonic soulmates have a long and wonderful history, no one with common sense believes this to be the case

They exchanged love letters that were quite clear that the attraction was a romantic one.

Some historians also claim that there isn’t enough evidence to suggest that they killed the fiance.

Those historians are wrong.

Anyway, in modern days 97% of the population has a palm mark with the name of their soulmate

The tattoo industry has never had so many illegal opportunities

When your soulmate dies, the name doesn’t scar. It doesn’t blister, burn, or black out. All that happens is a thin, impersonal line crossing their name out. Some people don’t notice who they lost for days.

There’s a process to remove palm marks. However, it’s illegal and possibly fatal for the soulmate being removed.

Our Characters

Roman: Roman was confused by the name of his soulmate.

Who names their kid “Janus”?

Am I soulmates with a roman deity? The heck?? SO MANY QUESTIONS AND SO LITTLE ANSWERS

Roman was so excited to have a soulmate. He kept entire journals filled with things he wanted to tell Janus, part diary, part scrapbook, and part love letter. He would doodle hearts around his palm mark.

One night, in April, Roman went to sleep. In the morning, there was a line across his palm.

His soulmate had died, and he hadn’t even seen the line drawn. He broke a little.

Enough said.

Roman took the passion that he’d had for his Janus and channeled it into his acting. If he couldn’t get love, he’d get a fucking Tony Award.

Remus: Remus had been annoyed by his brother’s complaining.

“Oh, boo-hoo, my soulmate has a rare name. That means that as soon as I meet him, I’ll know exactly who he is! Roman, DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE NAMED LOGAN”

Remus was annoyed that his soulmate had the audacity to have a common name. In theory, he could date all of the 18,000 Logans in the country, but does he really have the time?

He and his brother bicker about this for a solid seven years, until the argument abruptly ends. Ever since then, he’s been on his brother’s side in everything he can.

Logan: It made total sense for Logan to not have a soulmate.

His soulmate would have been unlucky, being stuck with a know-it-all like him, at least according to most of the people he knew.

This was a simple solution to the puzzle.

It wasn’t helpful to waste time wishing for a different one.

Janus: Janus had a whole plan for when he met his soulmate.

He wrote it down in 10th grade

Step 1: Wear gloves

Step 2: Find Roman

Step 3: Say something witty

Step 4: Remove gloves, revealing palm

Step 5: This little mystery is over and done with, and hopefully my soulmate isn’t boring

This was how a lot of Janus’s plans would work. Solid ideas, but missing bits and important pieces. This includes his heist plan he scribbled out on a napkin on an April day.

Step 1: Find local con-artists

Step 2: Pretend to be a person with money (which I obviously do not have)

Step 3: Scam them

Step 4: Don’t get murdered on the way out

Step 5: Profit

He pulled off steps 1-3 with ease, but step 4 proved to be a sticking point.

As he escaped via the river, with money in his hands and a “so long, suckers!” on his lips for drama, he thought nothing could go wrong

Fun fact: It’s rather common for con artists to fatally give away their positions by yelling “so long, suckers!”. Just ask Odysseus as he sailed away from the Cyclops.

The con artists shot wildly at his boat, blowing it to pieces. As he went down with the ship, he barely had enough time to think this can’t be happening, and fuck this and I’m going to die at the same age as Philip fucking Hamilton and I really don’t want to go to hell before his lungs filled with water and his heart stopped.

And Janus died.

For a solid two minutes.

Technically, death is when your heart ceases to beat. Even though people have been revived after their hearts have stopped, it is death, and enough to draw a line across a sleeping Roman’s hand.

Janus, however, was saved by an old man, who dragged him out of the river and forced the water out of his lungs. The old man took one look at the teenager and decided that he needed better role models, which is how Patton took Janus under his wing and saved his life in more ways than one.

The Actual Plot

Roman is in a city production of Hamlet. His brother is in the audience, his friend is fixing the lighting, and he’s ready to go.

It’s a pretty good performance, by all accounts, but especially according to Janus.

He’d already been watching the main actor intently, smiling from the mezzanine, but he was even more intrigued when he read the playbill and realized his name was Roman. He could barely pay attention to act five as he planned out the lies he’d tell to get backstage.

Somehow, he didn’t get caught sneaking around, and managed to catch a glimpse of Roman’s hand in a mirror. Janus. He really is his soulmate!

Janus walks over to Roman, says something that isn’t as witty as he would have liked (but not as bad as it could have been), and removes his glove.

Now, he expected his soulmate could have a variety of reactions. He didn’t expect Roman to yell “Not today, ghost!”, throw a prop skull at him, and sprint out of the theater. Janus caught a glimpse of the line through his name.

He was reasonably sure that he wasn’t dead? He could see his reflection in mirrors, he could consume salt, people tended to notice his existence!

Jan didn’t have much time to mull over this, as he was about to be forcibly removed from the greenroom. Logan just wanted to fix the lighting and live his life, but when strangers break into the backstage and upset Roman...

Jan skedaddles as Logan chases him out of the building. The nerd has almost caught the intruder when he runs directly into a man in a green jacket holding a coffee cup full of ketchup

Why did he have a coffee cup full of ketchup?

Remus and Logan bicker as Janus escapes. When Remus realizes Logan’s name, he asks a few questions, but Logan quickly shows his two blank palms, and the matter is settled.

Everything seems over and done with.

Meanwhile, Roman is freaking out. His mind is essentially in a loop of The fuck? The fuck? The actual fuck? He’s completely unsure of what to do. Is he seeing ghosts? Does he only believe he’s seeing ghosts? Is he sane or not?

Remus checks up on his brother at around 3 am, only to find him, exhausted, and writing in his old soulmate journal. Roman tries to explain what just happened, but the narrative told isn’t exactly coherent. All Remus can gather is that

1. His brother thinks that his dead soulmate is alive

2. This is because some guy snuck backstage and told him that he was the dead soulmate in question

3. This was probably the guy Logan was chasing

Remus convinced Roman to go to sleep, and walked out of the apartment with blood on his mind. He was sure that his brother was being manipulated.

This guy might not be dead now, but he would be soon.

Meanwhile, Janus proves that he can, in fact, cross a salt circle, so he must be alive! Right?? He also can’t get a certain actor out of his head, and wonders what his next move should be.

Remus recruits Logan to help him do some investigation in case Shady Liar Dude shows up. They go on several stakeouts together, in equally improbable locations. Maybe the two of them got too far into the secret agent aesthetic. Logan had always wanted to be a detective as a kid.

They fall for each other, and fast

Roman is spiraling, and a chat with Remus has him convinced that he was wrong, and Janus really is dead. He curses himself for believing in the pretty fairy-tale. Yes, because love wins in the end and they all live happily ever after. He has a performance tomorrow.

And it’s really time he got rid of the old scar.

You don’t hang around Remus without knowing where the black market locations are. It’s relatively easy to find the cure for palm marks.

He paces around backstage, holding a journal in one hand and a small bottle in the other. The warning that destroying the palm mark destroys the soulmate causes terror to rise in his throat, even though he knows that Janus is dead and can never read his love letters no matter how many stars he wishes on.

He finally makes his choice when Remus and Logan visit him before the performance. They give him looks of pity. He doesn’t want to be pitied.

According to the label, effects should take place over the next several hours. So, he waits for Janus’s name to disappear from his hand.

Janus managed to hustle someone with orchestra seats for their tickets. Despite not getting off on the right foot with his soulmate, he isn’t going to let him go that easily. And Roman’s brilliant performance that night just reinforces that. If he was good weeks ago, he was a star now. Janus was transfixed.

When the curtain call came, Janus was the first on his feet for a standing ovation. Remus and Logan noticed him, and pushed their way through the applauding audience. Both of them almost hoped that he’d get away again so they could continue spending time together.

Roman notices him. They lock eyes. Janus waves as though to say Hi, I’m here, apologies for the awkwardness of our meet-cute, but coffee? Roman gives him a look of disdain, as if to say I can’t believe I thought you were my soulmate, you con artist. He intends to look away and bask in the applause, but before he can do that, Janus collapeses.

Roman is confused at first, and then it clicks. That’s his soulmate. That’s his Janus.

And he killed him.

Pandemonium breaks out. Roman leaps off the stage, Remus freezes in panicked comprehension, the crowd scatters, and several people try to reach the dying man.

Logan gets there first. His mind scans memories of hours spent in libraries, researching everything there is to know about palm marks. Why didn’t some people have them? How did you lose them? How could you get them back?

He instructs Remus and Roman to help carry Janus to the greenroom.

They race him there, everyone in a state of panic (including Logan, but more importantly he has a job to do). Logan tells Remus to run and get a few basic ingredients, and they wait. Time moves much too fast and much too slow, until he comes back.

Logan works chemical wonders, piecing together Roman’s hand until everything is stabilized.

A vicious scar, the type you’d except if your soulmate was really gone, forms on Roman’s palm, and it will stay there for the rest of his days.

Janus comes back from death’s door for the second time.

After The Drama

Logan and Remus eventually move past the “but I don’t have a soulmate” “and yet I still am in love with you” dithering and go on a date that isn’t for the purpose of stalking a supposed stalker.

They go to the aquarium.

Meanwhile, there’s a lot to work out between Roman and Janus. From “wow, you’re not dead” to “wow, I nearly murdered you”, we don’t have time to unpack all that.

But they do get coffee. And they talk.

Soulmate stuff! I really like soulmate aus, despite not liking to write straight up romance

It’s weird

Anyway, hope you enjoyed!

[pepethehobbit]

I wrote a van der stoffels AU for the Skam Holiday Event and because I am a giant mess I couldn’t stay with one theme and kind of jumbled a lot of them together? This story is basically for Day 1: Decorations, Day 3: Winter and Day 5: Parties

And because holidays are stressful even with Corona I didn’t manage to finish it on time, but it’s the 26th so it’s technically still Christmas, so I hope it’s okay that I post it now. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little snippet of Jens and Lucas being dumb and in love.

„I’m sorry you want me to do what?“

„Pretend? Please, Luc. I know it’s such a weird thing to ask of you but I can’t stand their constant questioning and interrogation any more of when I will finally bring a nice girl or boy home, especially not around Christmas. My family is weirdly obsessed with my relationship status and that it’s currently single. I just want them off my back.”

Lucas hears what Jens is saying. And it’s nothing new either. Jens’ family really is oddly nosy about his relationship status even more so since he came out, as if the fact that he is bi would enhance his chances somehow. Lucas knows this frustration because Jens has talked to him about it a few times especially around holidays or Jens’ birthday, where his family is extra persistent about Jens finding someone.

Jens hasn’t done anything about it, he stays silent and then complains about it to Lucas later. Until now, Lucas guesses. Because Jens just asked him to come to his parents house for a Christmas family gathering with coffee and cake and a later dinner. But that is not the thing that took him by surprise. Lucas has spend a few Christmases at the Stoffels household, especially when his own family couldn’t be there for him or just straight up left one year like his father had. They basically spend every Christmas together in some capacity since Lucas moved to Antwerp when he was eleven and both of them becoming inseparable.

Jens has been Lucas’ best friend for eight years now and at first he thought Jens was kidding, but he recognizes a serious expression on his face when he sees one. He has years of experience to back it up. So that is the thing that surprises him. Jens is seriously asking him if he can come home with him for Christmas to pretend that he is Jens’ boyfriend. Lucas must have been too quiet for too long because Jens begins to backtrack. He shakes his head and then lowers it. His voice is filled with an unusual insecurity.

“Forget it, Luc. It was a dumb question to ask of me. They probably wouldn’t believe it anyway.”

“I’ll do it.”

It slips out before Lucas could consciously think about it.  He wasn’t really planning on saying yes to this, because there was a voice in his head that immediately screamed: “No! Bad Idea!” But with the way Jens head snaps back up to him with a huge smile of relief he can’t bring himself to take it back.

The problem is, Lucas wants to be like that with Jens for real. It took him a while to figure it out after Jens broke up with Jana but he is definitely in love with his best friend and has been for two years. Pretending to be with Jens so his family gets off his back would be pure torture for Lucas. He knows exactly what his best friend is like when he is in a relationship. Jens doesn’t shy away from open affection, says the cheesiest shit that he makes out to be a joke (but Lucas knows he means every single one of them) and is just in general the most attentive and supportive boyfriend anyone could ask for. Maybe Lucas is a bit biased on this topic but he is pretty sure that being on the receiving end of these things from Jens would not help him at all to get over his best friend like he should. Especially with the knowledge that it’s all fake from Jens’ side. He would get a glimpse of what it would be like and then Jens would snatch it all away and thank him for being such a good friend. Lucas is not sure if his heart would survive that.

“Really? Luc, oh my god, thank you! You really don’t know how annoying they are. I don’t know what’s gotten into them lately but they are worse than ever.” Jens seems so relieved and Lucas’s heart breaks a little more. He just needs to be medical about this, needs to set up some rules that he and Jens can stick to so Jens doesn’t do anything that Lucas wouldn’t recover from. Like kissing him.

“Have you thought about how we would sell it? Because your family knows me pretty well, knows we’ve been friends for years. What’s the story?”

Jens ducks his head for a second and then raises it with a sheepish smile. “Well, I didn’t really expect you to say yes to this, so I didn’t do a lot of planing ahead. Maybe we can do that together?”

After an hour or so they had it all planed out and rules to stick to. When Lucas mentioned rules, Jens got a bit confused (Rules? What kind of rules?) and Lucas had to fight down the urge to roll his eyes. “Well, don’t you think that your family will find it weird when we won’t touch all evening? We need some rules of what is allowed and what isn’t.”

Lucas felt so awkward in that moment. Not only talking to your best friend about what is and isn't off limits but at the same time trying to stop thinking about how much he wants Jens to do all of things for him for real. After agreeing that holding hands and a little bit of cuddling is definitely okay, Jens suddenly got very shy again and asked with a small voice: “What about kissing?”

Lucas’ very fast and firm “No!” seemed to shock Jens a little bit and a look of disappointment flashed across his face which made Lucas momentarily mad at Jens. He has no right to be upset about this, he can’t be expecting Lucas to kiss him for the sake of making it believable. Lucas’ could not go back from that. Kissing Jens, knowing what it would feel like, what he could have if Jens only returned his feelings, no that’s too much for Lucas. “No, you’re right. Sorry. I wouldn’t want to make you more uncomfortable about this evening than it will probably already be.” Lucas doesn’t point out that kissing Jens would be the exact opposite of uncomfortable for him and just lets him think that that’s why he draws the line at kissing. “It will be like any other Christmas I have spend with your family, Jens. The only difference is that we will have to pretend to be madly in love, stick to our story and hold hands the entire time, what could go wrong?” Jens chuckles at Lucas’ obviously fake positive outlook for the evening and said: “Famous last words, Lucas.”

And that is how he currently finds himself on the steps of Jens’ old family home with Jens hesitantly taking his hand in his and asking: “Ready?” Jens slowly raises his other hand to ring the bell but Lucas interrupts him: “Wait. Let’s go over it again.” Jens lets his hand fall again and with the other one he gives Lucas an encouraging squeeze. “Luc, we’ve been over this a million times. They won’t notice a thing. We got this, okay?” Lucas doesn’t have the chance to respond because then the door is being opened and Jens’ mum gives them an enthusiastic welcome. She doesn't notice their joined hands and simply hugs them both. It gives Lucas an instant kind of comfort. Mama Stoffels has always been there for him. When he couldn’t be around his own family she opened up her home to Lucas as often and as long as he needed.

“You must be freezing. Come in, come in. The others are already here. You’re the last to arrive.”

They get in and the familiarity of the surroundings help Lucas to calm down even more. He knows these people, he knows the place and he knows Jens. The only thing he has to do is to pretend to be in love with Jens for one day. It wouldn’t even be pretending for Lucas. The only thing he has to do is to let down his carefully constructed wall that keeps Jens from knowing Lucas’ true feelings for him. Lucas only hopes that he can rebuild the wall once this day is over.

Mama Stoffels already left for the living room while Lucas and Jens shove off their jackets, scarfs and beanies, expecting them to follow her to the room where the rest of Jens’ family already waits for them. Lucas looks nervously up at Jens and then at the door which is currently still hiding them from the storm of questions they are about to receive when they walk through that door.

Jens takes his hand again, which is part of the plan and asks: “Ready? We can still not do this. It’s your choice.”

“No, I’m ready. Let’s do this. You owe me big time for this, though.”

Jens grins at him easily and says: “I know, thank you, Luc. And believe me, the next four vettige vrijdag are on me.”

“Alright, I can live with that.”

Jens squeezes his hand once more and opens the door.

Lucas knows more or less everyone in this room. Jens’ parents of course, his little sister Lotte and his older sister Lies he knows best but he has met both of Jens’ aunts, uncles and grandparents several times as well. There are a few faces he doesn’t know, mostly younger kids who don’t pay attention to them anyway (Jens said a few of his younger cousins would be there as well). The first one to see them enter is Lies and Lucas has to hold in his laugh at the way her face goes through confusion, to understanding and lastly arrives at pure and utter joy.

“Oh my god, finally!” Lies all but screams and that works to get everybody else’s attention as well. Lucas feels the eyes of nearly everybody in the room on them and sees how they their gazes swipe down to their tangled hands and up again. He looks nervously over to Jens because that’s most definitely his job right now.

Jens clears his throat and says: “You know how you always annoy the crap out of me to find someone nice to date? Yeah, well. I did.” With that he gives Lucas’ hand a squeeze and raised their joined hands so everybody can see them properly.

The silence that follows is grating on Lucas’ nerves but then everybody kind of erupts in enthusiastic screams and shouts over each other. Lucas’ doesn’t understand everything but he thinks the overall consensus about the revelation is that everybody is thrilled for them and the world “finally” is heard a little too often for Lucas’ comfort.

Lies is the one to bring them all to silence. “Guys, stop! I know we are all thrilled that they finally got their head out of their asses but let them say hello first.” Lucas doesn’t want to think about the implications of Lies’ statement and is glad that he gets distracted by her pulling them both towards the table, giving them both a firm hug and setting them down at two empty seats.

As everybody is kind of settled again, the silence returns and Lucas’ should have known that the gleam in Lies’ eyes would mean that this is far from over for both of them.

“And now the interrogation can begin. So, shoot. How did this happen?”

All the curious eyes are on them again and Lucas looks over to Jens to find him already staring. He hopes his eyes convey his silent support because this first portion of the plan is definitely all Jens. All Lucas has to do is sit here and look convincingly in love with Jens, which again is not really a hardship for him anyway.

“Well you all know that we’ve been friends for a long time now and a few months ago I started to realize that my feelings for him changed.” Jens takes Lucas’ hand again and places it in his lap, it’s an obvious enough gesture to support the story. Lucas notices how the mischievous gleam in Lies’ eyes is replaced with a much softer, fonder one. “Then I drunkenly kissed him at a party one night and lucky for me Lucas kind of stopped me and said ‘Kiss me again in the morning, when you’re not drunk.’ And that’s what I did and now we’re here.”

Lucas couldn’t help the blush that spread on his face, even though the story is completely fake, the thought of Jens kissing him just does that to him. It seemed to help their case though, as Papa Stoffels points out: “Look at you blush, Lucas. I always knew Jens would eventually fall victim to your charm.”

At this Jens lets out an incredulous “Dad!” but Lucas can’t help but laugh. Jens fixes him with an over exaggerated indignant gaze and Lucas just needs to tease him. “So my charms are what finally got to you, huh? Tell me, what exactly about my charms was it? The handsome looks? The devastatingly funny sense of humor? The -”

Before he can continue Jens hides his head in the crook of Lucas’ neck and mumbles loud enough for the others to hear as well: “Shut up oh my god, you’re so annoying.” While he speaks he feels Jens’ lips lightly move against his neck and Lucas suddenly has a hard time coming up with a response. Thankfully, he is saved by Mama Stoffels.

“Well, Jens. You didn’t deny any of those things, either.” Her tone is cheeky and it’s not the first time Lucas’ notices the similarities in their natures between Jens and his Mum.

Jens lifts his head to stare accusingly at the rest of his family and says: “You are all annoying. Can we eat our cake now, please?”

Lies’ fixes them both with a stare. “You can. But don’t think this is over. The interrogation has only just begun. I want to know everything.” Her words sound harsh but she says them in such a fond tone Lucas can see them for what they are. She seems so genuinely happy and not that surprised at the news that he and Jens are dating that Lucas wonders if she has always kind of known how he really feels about her brother. But he can’t worry about that now as they get drawn into the conversation around them. He can feel himself relax in the presence of these people who he would consider his second family. At one point Jens puts his arm around Lucas’ shoulder to pull him into his chest while talking to his grandparents. A gesture they don’t usually share and should feel unnatural but it being the exact opposite. Lucas forgets that this is only pretending and decided to soak up as much of Jens’ freely offered affection as possible. Because if he is only allowed to have them for one night he is going to make the most of it.

He fully snuggles up to Jens, links their fingers together and begins tracing the moles on Jens’ arm with the other. Something he always wanted to do. When the conversation gets dragged back to them and about how they got together, Lucas gets brave and offers a sign of affection of his own. Jens is in the middle of explaining how he confessed his feelings for his best friend when Lucas raises his hand to strike a hand through Jens’ raven black hair. Jens’ falters for a second, then looks at Lucas with big eyes and a small smile on his face that has Lucas’ insides churning. It’s not a look that he would usually receive from Jens and it’s doing things to Lucas, like forgetting that this is all pretend.

“You two are going to be that couple I can already tell. You are both so smitten.” It’s Lies’ voice once again that interrupts their weird moment of eye contact. Lucas tries to find his voice again because Jens is just ducking his head, trying to hide a blush that Lucas can see rising up his neck anyway. He tries to steer the conversation away from them to get them to safer grounds.

“Don’t pretend that you and Josh wouldn’t be the same if he was here. You are ten times worse than us.”

“He is right you know.”

“Mama!” Lies’ indignant tone raises a laugh from all of them and the conversation moves on around them. Jens is still not looking at Lucas and he has pulled his hand back to himself. Lucas nudges him with his elbow but Jens doesn’t look up.

“Hey, you alright?,” Lucas asks quietly so that the others don’t hear.

Jens takes a deep breath and finally looks up at Lucas with an expression that’s much more closed and sadly one that Lucas is much more used to, nothing compared to how he had looked at Lucas just moments prior.

“Yeah, I’m okay. All good.” Lucas is not convinced but he can’t exactly nudge Jens for more when they are surrounded by his family within hearing distance. “I’ll go see if Dad needs help in the kitchen, be right back.” With that he stands up and leaves Lucas confused and alone with his family. Something happened there and Lucas isn’t sure what. Jens is just pretending. Why is he suddenly fleeing when it seems to be working? Isn’t this exactly what Jens had wanted?

Lucas doesn’t have a chance to think about this further as Lotte, now twelve years old, calls for him to come to the door which leads to the kitchen. “What’s up Lotte?” he asks once he has reached her but she is suddenly turning around, calling for Jens in the kitchen without answering his question. Lucas is confused but then Jens stands in the doorway with him and asks Lotte the same question who gazes at them both with a bright smile on her face.

“Look up.” Jens and Lucas share a confused look but do as they’re told and realization begins to sink in. Mistletoe. Lucas lowers his gaze again and locks eyes with Jens straight away. The one rule he is still unsure about wanting to break and Jens seems equally hesitant.

“People are supposed to kiss under a Mistletoe, right? So kiss.” Lotte says it as if this would be the easiest thing in the world and from the corner of his eye he can see that they gathered quite the attention even though the rest of Jens’ family tries to be subtle about it.

He takes a step towards Jens, never leaving his eyes. Jens returns his gaze with an equal amount of vulnerability and questions. Lucas takes his hand in his and decides to just go for it. Screw the consequences. This evening is an exception to everything and suddenly he really wants to know what it feels like to have Jens’ lips on him, at least once. As quietly as possible he whispers: “It’s okay.” He can see Jens starting to argue, he obviously remembers how adamant Lucas was about no kissing. But now Lucas doesn’t care. “It’s okay,” he whispers again and he can see the protest fleeing out of Jens’ eyes.

It’s Jens that closes the final distance between them. He sees how Jens’ eyes flutter shut before his own follow. Their noses touch, sending a shiver down Lucas’ spine in anticipation. When Jens angles his head and finally connects their mouths Lucas can only hold his breath. He thought Jens would go for a simple peck but once their lips are connected both of them can’t seem to let go of each other.  Jens’ lips are warm and gentle and when he parts them against his own he tastes of the gingerbread cake they ate before. He feels Jens stepping even further into his space and beginning to move his lips against him with a slight tremble and Lucas melts into his chest.

A loud whistle is what separates them and they both all but spring apart from each other looking for the source of the noise. It was Lies, of course. Who else could it have been. Lucas chances a quick look at Jens but he is not paying him any attention, as if this kiss was completely ordinary and did not just completely turned Lucas world upside down. Which reminds him once again, this is pretend. Of course Jens is acting like this, because he doesn’t feel what Lucas feels and because he can’t act like this was their first kiss when they are supposed to have kissed for over a month now.

“Oh Lies, shut up. You’re just jealous because Josh isn’t here.” Lies looks like she is ready to throw back another teasing remark when Jens’s father steps out of the kitchen. “Jens, language!” His son ducks his head, ruffles Lotte’s hair, who still stands next to them and says “Sorry.”

“Well, if the show is over now, you can all come into the kitchen. The buffet is open now. I hope you’re all hungry.”

The general commotion that follows gives Lucas some time to collect himself. He tries to catch Jens’ eyes again but he seems very determined to ignore Lucas right now. Jens follows the others into the kitchen to get in line for the food and doesn’t say anything about what just happened. Lucas suddenly doesn’t feel that hungry anymore and flees to the bathroom.

He steps in front of the sink and looks up in the mirror. His eyes automatically zero in on his lips as if searching for proof that the kiss really happened. His fingers gently trace his own lips where Jens’ have been just a minute before, disbelieving. Lucas got what he wanted and it was simultaneously the best and worst kiss he has ever experienced. Kissing Jens has felt like coming home and just so utterly and purely right but it comes with the knowledge that is wasn’t the same for Jens.  He was so nonchalant after, like he wasn’t affected at all whereas Lucas is now freaking out in a bathroom. How is he supposed to survive dinner and a few more hours with this play they put up for Jens’ family. All he wants is to go home and be alone so he can try and forget the kiss that cemented his feelings for his best friend. Before, there may have been a chance of getting over his crush but with the knowledge of how it feels to be kissed by Jens that chance is completely gone. He should have never agreed to this. But he has and Jens is still his friend. Lucas turns on the tap and splashes some water in his face and tries to collect himself. Only three more hours or so and then he can go home. One last deep breath and he opens the door to join the others again.

When he sets foot in the living room/dining room his eyes immediately find Jens and he looks at him as if asking him if he is okay. Lucas tries his most convincing smile and nods once, then turns around and makes his way to the kitchen to get some food. He sits down next to Jens and conversation with his family starts to flow easily again.

Dinner is not as bad as Lucas thought it would be. But he notices that Jens is more distant. Before he pulled Lucas into his personal space as much as he could and now he doesn’t even try to hold his hand. He is worried and relieved at the same time. Worried that he made Jens so uncomfortable with the kiss that he doesn’t even want to hold his hand anymore and relieved because Lucas is sure that he couldn’t have handled more fake affection from Jens. He softly nudges Jens with his elbow to get his attention. Jens turns around and looks at Lucas questioningly. “What is it?”

Lucas slowly leans forward and as quietly as possible he asks: “Are we okay?” Before Jens scolds his expression into a reassuring one Lucas saw the flash of sadness in his face. Anyone else would look over it but Lucas saw and it makes his stomach drop with anxiety.

“We’re okay.” But Lucas doesn’t relax with these words, not in the slightest. He knows that there is something going on in Jens that he wants to hide from Lucas and it's probably his fault and the fact that he was kind of forced to kiss Lucas when he probably really didn’t want to.

After desert Jens’ family slowly makes their way home member by member. Jens and Lucas stay a little bit longer after everyone already left. They are on the floor in front of the fake fireplace and play a round of The settlers of Catan with Jens loosing terribly and Lucas teasing him mercilessly for it, his parents and Lies joining him. Lotte is a sweetheart as always and tries her best to trade with Jens anything that he needs. Lucas is still very unnerved about this whole evening and what happened between Jens and him but this is familiar. It warms his heart to see how easy he fits in here and how natural it seems for Jens’ family to not only accept his presence but welcome him with open hearts to family evenings like this. It works to calm his nerves a little bit, especially because Jens seems to be more like himself as well. He leans more into Lucas and falls into their natural teasing so effortlessly as if he forgot the weird mood that surrounded them after the kiss.

In the end, Lies wins and she demands that everyone bows down to the queen of settlers. They jokingly indulge her but she looses their attention when Lotte runs to the window and excitedly jumps up and down and screams: “It’s snowing, it’s snowing. Look!!”

They all get up to look at the white powder falling from the sky, which has already covered the whole street in a thick layer of snow.

“Can we go outside and make snow angles?” Lotte asks in a voice so giddy that only an overly excited 12-year-old can manage.

“Lotte, it’s way too cold and it’s way past your bedtime already. The snow will probably still be there in the morning and then we can all go outside and have a little walk through the snow together okay?”

Lotte seems to accept that quite begrudgingly and mumbles something about boring party poopers under her breath which has Jens and Lucas eyes meet with shared amusement. His mom and dad usher Lotte upstairs and Lucas takes the opportunity to announce that they should be going as well.

“Lucas, you two can’t go now. It’s a twenty minute walk and it’s snowing very heavyly. Why don’t you two just stay in Jens’ old room? I’ll drive you both home tomorrow after breakfast.”

Lucas wants to argue, especially as he feels Jens stiffen next to him, bringing back the uncomfortable mood between them. He opens his mouth to say something but Lies interrupts him.

“Stop that. You’re not intruding, not at all. You are always welcome here you know that. Even more so then your boyfriend.” She says the last part with a wink towards her little brother who just fondly roles his eyes and shakes his head at his sister’s words. Lucas can hardly argue that but he still looks to Jens for confirmation that this is okay, especially after Jens seemed very uncomfortable with the idea of them staying the night. But then he pulls Lucas more into his side as he sees Lotte’s questioning gaze on them and says: “Sure, let’s stay for the night. More time to cuddle with you.”

Only now Lucas realizes that he has to share a bed with Jens for the night and he instantly regrets it again. Why. Why can’t he just say no for once in his life. It’s so weird between them right now. Even though Jens has him in his arms, he feels more than a thousand miles away from him.

They inform Jens’ parents and soon after say their goodnights to them and make their way upstairs to Jens’ old room. Lucas had tons of sleepovers here and they shared a bed many times before but this is different. He knows that he won’t get an ounce of sleep with Jens so close next to him. Jens informs him that there is a spare toothbrush in the bathroom and gives him some of his clothes to sleep in that he still keeps in his parents place. Even though Jens seems all chill Lucas sees through his act. The air between them is awkward and stilted and Lucas has no idea on how to fix this. Talking about it would probably help but Lucas isn’t ready to loose Jens yet, which will probably happen anyway with the way Jens acts kind of cold towards him.

They take turns in the bathroom down the hall and when Jens is gone Lucas settles in on the left side of the bed towards the windows. Jens comes back, turns off the light and Lucas feels the bed dip under his weight as Jens settles in next to him. The bed is big enough for both of them but their shoulders are still only a few inches apart and Lucas is very aware of the fact that his hand is very close to Jens’ own in the middle of the bed. A very uncomfortable silence stretches unbearably between them, not even a quiet goodnight, and it’s enough for Lucas to finally speak.

“I’m sorry for kissing you, Jens. It was obviously too much and I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable. I know I said no kissing but everyone was looking at us and because you asked about it in the first place, when we sat up those rules, I thought you would be okay with it. But clearly it made you super uncomfortable because you have been weird for the rest of the evening and I’m sorry.”

Lucas is met with silence again and the fact that he can’t see Jens’ face in the dark makes him even more anxious. Then Jens speaks.

“Why did you decide to kiss me when you seemed so appalled to it earlier? You were the one that was clearly uncomfortable just at the thought of kissing me, so you could’ve easily said no or made a joke about it. You didn’t have to kiss me like you meant it when you clearly didn’t want to. So, why did you?”

Lucas is taken aback by the hurt in Jens’ voice and hates himself for being the reason for it. It makes him want to be honest, maybe Jens will be even more mad at him for basically using him but at least he won’t hurt him anymore by lying to him.

“I wasn’t appalled to the idea of kissing you. That is the whole problem, actually. I said no to kissing at first because I knew there would be no going back from that for me. But in that moment today I just went with the excuse because I knew it would be the only opportunity for me to ever know what it would be like to kiss you. And I’m sorry for that. I knew this was a bad idea from the start because I knew that my feelings would ruin this and I-”

A sudden light makes Lucas stop in his apology and confession in one. After adjusting to the sudden brightness he sees how Jens sat up in the bed and turned on the light in the bedside table. Lucas sits up as well and waits for Jens to say something. But he just looks at him with wide eyes full of doubt but also… hope?

Lucas sees how Jens’ hand slowly reaches for his own and sucks in a breath when Jens intertwines their fingers together. “What are you doing?”, Lucas asks with a shaky exhale of breath and looks up from their joined hands to Jens’ eyes. Something seems to be decided in Jens’ brain because the doubtful expression vanishes and is replaced with a softer look full of affection and determination.

“Luc, okay first of all. I wasn’t uncomfortable when we kissed, not in the slightest. Quite the opposite really. If anything it made me come out of my denial and proofed what I suspected for a while now.”

“Which is?” Lucas asks when Jens doesn’t continue. Hope begins to settle in his chest and an excited warm and fuzzy feeling spreads when Jens raises their joined hands to his lips and kisses Lucas’ hand.

“That I am in love with you.”

Lucas can’t do much but stare at Jens completely speechless as an overwhelming feeling of happiness washes over him. He feels how is lips stretch into a smile that he can’t help and then he grabs Jens by the front of his shirt, pulls him towards himself and kisses him again. Jens’ surprised yelp is smothered by their lips softly moving together and Lucas feels how Jens melts into him after the initial surprise. He lets his hand slide from the collar of the shirt to Jens’ neck and begins to play with the short strands of hair. Jens lets out a little satisfied sound and opens his lips for Lucas, inviting him in.

Lucas feels like he is floating when they eventually break apart. His eyes stay closed for a few seconds to bask in this feeling only a little while longer. He opens his eyes and is met with Jens’ most beautiful smile and begins to realize that he is the reason for that. Lucas can’t help himself and steals another short kiss from Jens before he says: “I love you, too. In case that wasn’t obvious.”

Jens laughs and shakes his head in disbelief. “God, Luc. Today was pure torture. The whole time I was asking myself ‘How can he be so good at pretending?’ And then that kiss and I… God, I was having a silent freak out after that kiss but I couldn’t show it and you were looking at me like that and I couldn’t handle that it was all pretend, that’s why I was so weird after. I finally came out of my denial for my feelings and it was because of a fake kiss with you.”

“I can’t believe I bought your chill act. I totally believed you weren’t affected by that kiss at all and it made me freak out and flee to the bathroom because I couldn’t handle the fact that I just kissed you.”

“We are so dumb.” Jens says with laughter and Lucas can’t help but agree. During this whole conversation he has been smiling so much his cheeks hurt. Jens is making him so unbelievably happy, he can’t believe he got so lucky.

“So, I guess the plan is off?”

Jens looks at him confused but the smile never leaves his face. Lucas isn’t much better off. “What do you mean?”

“You know, the plan where we would’ve told your family that we broke up in three weeks because we are better off as friends?”

At that Jens face light up with remembrance and he gets a teasing glint in his eyes. “Oh that plan. Yeah, I mean, I guess you can carry the title of my boyfriend a while longer if you want to,” he says with over exaggerated nonchalance.

“You guess?” Lucas indulges him in his teasing, tries to act offended but he can’t keep the smile off his face or the happiness out of his voice.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t bother me, you know. As long as you keep doing the things a boyfriend does,” Jens says with wiggling eyebrows and a teasing smirk. Lucas can’t help but lean in and wipe that smile of his face with his own lips. “Oh, I see. And what does that entail, exactly?” he asks when he leans back.

Jens closes the distance again and whispers against his lips: “More of that.”

They fall asleep embraced in each other and Lucas couldn't remember a time where he slept better than in Jens' arms. He woke up before Jens and lets himself admire the beauty that his a sleeping Jens. It's as if his fingers have a will of their own when they begin to trace Jens' face, from his forehead down to his eyebrows, then his nose and lastly his lips. They begin to twitch into a small smile but his eyes stay closed. Jens lets out a content hum. "I could get used to waking up like this."

"How long have you been awake?"

"Oh long enough to know that you've been staring at me," Jens says teasingly but he sounds way too happy for Lucas to really question if Jens is bothered by it.  

Jens finally opens his eyes and reaches for Lucas' hand which has fallen down between their faces after Lucas was done with caressing Jens' face. He intertwines their fingers together and snuggles up even closer to Lucas.

"So, last night wasn't a dream then?" Lucas can't help but chuckle at the clichee words but he also kind of melts at Jens' sleepy and hopeful voice.

"Would it have been a good dream?"

Jens looks up into Lucas' blue eyes and with an expression full of affection and love he says: "The best."

Lucas agrees. He could get used to waking up like this as well.

[sometimesitrytowritethings]

Mountain Man: Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | PART 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: None

Summary: You never thought you’d love again. Then Arthur Morgan came into town. Fate continuously has you meeting each other in odd ways, and a troubled past is something you are both familiar with. Perhaps that’s what will make this time different.

-----

Valentine was, first and foremost, a run-down, muddy livestock town. It constantly smelled at least slightly of manure, and rest assured that every person’s shoes were caked in mud and shit by the end of each day. There were very few children or families in town, and thus little entertainment for anyone who was too young to drink or play poker. Gossip ran through the town as fast as whisky in the saloon, which is coincidentally where you had heard about the upcoming auction.

At the large Livestock Auction on the outskirts of town, a small troupe of men were to be riding in, followed by nearly two-dozen sturdy-looking horses. Luckily for you, Ben loved animals - especially horses. He really did take after his father in that aspect. So, there was naturally no better entertainment for the five-year-old than taking him to watch the small herd ride into town.

The two of you sat on a bench outside the back of the train station, close enough to see the action, but far enough away to stay safe in case any of the poor animals were suddenly spooked. Ben was dressed warmly in the crisp morning air, huddled up in a sweater as he sat on the bench, swinging his short legs back and forth in excitement. He held the last half of his chocolate bar tight in his fist, watching in awe as the horses were separated into groups and led into the corrals. Occasionally, he would smack your arm in excitement and point at a specific horse, admiring their coat or gait or hooves or anything else he found interesting.

After nearly an hour of watching from a distance, the horses were all herded into their pens, and Ben looked up at you with wide, excited eyes. “Mama, can I go to the fence now?” he asked, practically bouncing from his place on the bench. “Please?”

You gently pried the chocolate bar from his hand, and nodded. “Go ahead,” you agreed, “but watch out when you cross the road.” The end of your sentence was called to the back of the child, who had immediately dashed to the fence of the Livestock Auction.

With a small smile, you stood and slowly followed him over. You had been so focused on your son that you didn’t notice the familiar face of the man riding towards you until he had called your name. “Well, I shoa didn’t take you for a rancher,” came Arthur’s voice from your left. There was no way you could hide your smile.

He had been tying his own horse to the hitching post by the train station when he called out to you. He gave the horse a gentle pat and whispered something to it before walking towards you and Ben, who was far too distracted by seeing the horses up close to take notice of him. You let out a laugh as he made his way to you. “Hello again, Mountain Man,” you greeted, putting your hand on Ben’s back as he climbed up the first rung of the fence. “I certainly ain’t, but I figure Ben may be when he’s older.” You patted Ben’s back affectionately has you spoke about him. He didn’t notice. “Thank you for dinner, by the way.”

Arthur reached up with a large hand to tip his tattered hat in your direction, which also made it slightly cover his eyes. “It weren’t no problem, miss. Really,” he explained, now standing behind Ben with you at his side. The awkward energy that had overwhelmed the end of your conversation the day before was now completely gone. It was amazing what a good night’s sleep could do. 

Ben suddenly called to you loudly, bouncing up and down on the fence, “Mama, there’s a baby horsy! Do you see?” He held up his right arm and pointed enthusiastically at a small pony towards the back of the lot. It had stubby legs and a long, black coat, contrasting significantly with its nearby cousins.

You reached forward and shushed him gently, not wanting him to spook the nearby animals. “Yes sweetheart, I can see it,” you confirmed, keeping your hand behind his back in case he lost balance and fell backwards in his excitement. “Regardless, it was very kind. Thank you.”

Luckily for Arthur, your eyes were still trained on your son, so you missed his small smile and light blush. “You’re welcome,” he responded, before he cleared his throat and took off his hat, holding it at his side. 

The three of you watched the horses together for a moment as they kicked up mud in front of you, both of you glancing down occasionally at Ben with small smiles on your faces. You had to admit, it was nice, standing there with him by your side. Any passerby who didn’t know you would have reasonably thought the three of you a family.

Ben continued to ramble on enthusiastically, “How old do you think it is?” He finally tore his eyes away from the small pony and looked around the lot at the other horses. “Which one is it’s mama?”

He looked around for another pony, raising one foot up to the next rung of the fence, for a better view. As he searched, Arthur moved to his side and bent down slightly, so that his head was at the same level as Ben’s. “Which baby horse you talkin’ ‘bout?” he asked, looking in the same direction as your son.

Ben, thrilled to have a companion with the same interest, removed his hand from the railing and grabbed ahold of Arthur’s shirt. He nearly lost his balance, but Arthur’s strong arm swung up just in time, keeping the boy upright as he once again pointed toward the pony.  There, that little one in the back.” After regaining his balance, and using Arthur’s shoulder as leverage, Ben clambered up to the second rung with both feet.

Arthur grinned when he saw the little horse. “Well that one there’s a Shetland Pony,” he explained, keeping his arm around your son’s back to help him maintain his balance. You couldn’t help thinking that Arthur looked good like this. With an arm wrapped around your son, teaching him about the animals in front of him, he looked like a father. “They’re bred to be real little, and they stay that way their whole lives.”

Ben’s eyes went wide. “Wow! So it’ll be a baby forever?” he asked, looking to Arthur for confirmation.

There was that barking laugh again from the man, the one that was accompanied by a wide grin, the one that made him throw his head back, the one you were now hoping to hear on almost a daily basis. “Not a baby,” he responded, patting Ben’s back affectionately, “but yeah. It’ll stay little forever.” He nodded toward the horse, and Ben turned his attention once again to the creature. “‘Cause they’re so small, they’re used in the mines, usually. I bet this one is on its way to Annesburg or maybe somewhere up in the Grizzlies.” With his free hand, he gestured at the horse. “See its thick coat? That means it’s real easy for ‘im to stay nice and warm up in the snow.”

The boy stared at the pony in awe, mouth slightly agape. “How come you know so much about horses?”

Arthur chuckled at his wonderment and reached over to put his worn hat on Ben’s head. It sunk low and covered the boy’s eyes, forcing him to reach up and tilt it backwards - but he didn’t remove it. “Was always fond of ‘em, I guess,” Arthur responded, reaching to the satchel at his side with his newly free hand. “They’re good, strong beasts, and real loyal if you treat ‘em right.” As he spoke, he pulled a worn, leatherbound book out of the bag and began to flip through the pages. You caught glimpses of long, handwritten texts, plenty of doodles, and several large, intricate drawings. That was certainly surprising. “Here,” he continued, holding out the book to Ben when he had found the page he was looking for. “I found a real pretty, snow-white Arabian up in Ambarino a while back. Wish I had one of them cameras so I coulda’ taken a real picture for ya.”

You looked down at the page, where a large, intricate image of a snow-white horse was drawn in pencil. Somehow, you managed to hold back the gasp that threatened to escape. He drew that? It was one thing to defy the stereotype of a rough-and-tumble mountain man by having a journal, but he took it to a whole different level with his sheer talent. You glanced up at him as he proudly showed Ben the image.

“Wow!” Ben gasped, turning from the fence to run the fingers of his right hand over the page. “It’s so pretty!” You reached over and helped him down before he fell, and he immediately moved to stand between Arthur and the opened journal.

Immediately, Arthur moved to squat behind him, his head again level with Ben’s as the boy took hold of the journal. “She shoa was,” he said into the boy’s ear. “Almost missed ‘er ‘cause she blended right in with the snow.”

After a minute of entranced study of the drawing, Ben turned his face toward Arthur’s. “You drew her real good!”

He laughed again and stood up, rubbing the back of his neck. If you didn’t know better, you would have sworn his cheeks looked slightly redder than they had been a moment ago. “Thanks, boah. But it ain’t much,” he replied. His self-doubt once again bubbling up.

“No, he’s right,” you chimed in. Your eyes met his as you smiled at him and nodded toward the book. “It’s really a beautiful drawing.”

He paused for a moment before taking the book gently from Ben’s hands and reaching for the edge of the page. “Thanks,” he responded, and began to gently tear the page from the book. Your hand immediately rose to stop him, there was no need to tear it out. But before you could reach him, he already had the paper in hand and was handing it over to your son. “Here ya go. You can keep it.”

For the hundredth time in a single day, Ben’s eyes went wide. “Really?” he asked in awe, eyes again going wide as he gazed up at Arthur. This was surely going to be the highlight of his week.

Arthur nodded, chuckling. “Shoa,” he agreed, closing the book and slipping it back into the satchel at his side. “Can always draw another if I want.”

Ben’s face immediately lit up as soon the drawing was in his hands. “Woah! Thanks, Mister Mountain Man!” exclaimed Ben, who immediately dropped to the ground next to the fence to analyse the paper in more detail.

Arthur responded with a chuckled, “‘Course,” and ruffled Ben’s curls. For some reason, looking at the adorable scene  brought back that familiar lump in your throat. Was this what it would have been like if Andrew were here to watch his son grow? Was this what it looked like to have a child with a father?

Seeing Ben this happy was more satisfying than anything in the world. Seeing Arthur smiling down at your son, fingers again looped in his gun belt, also brought out a strange fondness that you didn’t think you would ever feel again. And then, inevitably, the memory of Andrew floats back into your mind, flavoring the entire situation with a strange sort of bittersweetness. 

“He’s a good kid,” Arthur’s contented voice brought you slowly back to reality. His gaze had moved from your son, still sitting on the ground, carefully holding the paper to prevent wrinkles, to your own. A small, bittersweet smile was aimed in your direction, and in that moment you knew - he understood. 

You nodded, not having the willpower to take your eyes from Arthurs. “He certainly is,” you said, affectionately. “Thank you, really.”

The self-doubt that ate at Arthur every day reddened his face. “It weren’t nothin,” he finally looked away from you and plucked his hat from Ben’s head and slipped it back on his own, shading his eyes from your view. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“No, no,” you weren’t having any of that. Not today, when he had made your son happier than you had seen in ages. “You probably just made his entire week. That’s not nothin’,” you continued, stepping closer to him and teasingly pushing his shoulder a bit.

He chuckled. “Well…”

But you weren’t about to let him continue, especially if he was only going to degrade himself. “How about I thank you by finally getting you that drink tonight? No price negotiations necessary,” you cut in, reaching up to straighten out his collar like you had done at the saloon on his first night in town. Again, your fingers brushed his bare skin at the collar of his shirt. This time, you were certain you felt him tense.

After a second of looking down at you, so close to him, feeling the brush of your fingers on his skin, he smiled and nodded. “Shoa. That’d be nice.” You grinned back up at him and dropped your hand from his shirt, missing the feeling of it as soon as you did. 

Arthur left shortly after your conversation, confirming that he would meet you at the saloon later that evening. You stayed for a while longer, sitting in the grass on the side of the road with Ben as he moved his gaze back and forth between the real horses, and the picture he had gotten from Arthur. After a half an hour or so, when all of the horses were penned and the sun was high in the sky, you finally stood, ruffled Ben’s hair and told him it was time to go home for the day. 

Slowly, the two of you made your way back home, taking the road through the center of town. On the way, you heard the familiar call of the newsboy, and looked over. Immediately, the headline and image on the front page caught your eye.

“SNAKE OIL MURDERER CAPTURED” was written in large bold font above an article and a photograph of a man, whose face you recognised. You quickly walked over and purchased a paper, opening it to read the entire page with Ben by your side. 

Looking again at the photograph, angry heat swelled in your chest. There was no mistaking those eyes. You had nearly forgotten them, but now they would be burned into your mind for the rest of your days. 

The memories flooded back to you like a dam had been broken in your mind. Andrew’s hacking coughs. His pale face, burning with fever. Worry about Ben. Worry about the Harvest. Resigning yourselves to wait the illness out and skimp on food during Winter. Hearing about a travelling doctor in town. Picking up the medication. Hope. 

And then? Finding Andrew’s lifeless body in bed next to you in the morning.

There was no denying it. It was too much of a coincidence to not have been true.

Benedict Albright, the Snake Oil Murderer, had killed your husband.

[ruewrites]

We’re Blooming Together Chapter 11: A New Beginning

AO3

Ships: Solomon/Asmo

Word Count: 5254

Warnings: None

Chapter 1-Chapter 2-Chapter 3-Chapter 4-Chapter 5-Chapter 6-Chapter 7-Chapter 8-Chapter 9-Chapter 10-Chapter 11-Chapter 12

It was a chilly night, the trees were bare and a few brown leaves still scurried across the sidewalk. Winter was starting to call, and cleaning up what little mess fall had left behind.  Time had passed and Asmo hadn’t realized. Time had become irrelevant. Between the notes from Secret and his time spent with Solomon and going through the motions of his classes everything just seemed to flow together. The sky was clear and the moon was full, shining down on him like a beacon as his heels clicked against the sidewalk. The stars twinkled in the sky like little diamonds. It was a rather romantic night, the world around him seemed silent. 

Asmo slowly walked through the dark playground. The old gates creaked as they opened. He came here alone, steeling himself for whatever outcome was about to await him. Keeping his breathing even and his heartbeat steady had never been so hard in all of his life. He remembered it being much more shiny and new than it was now… How long had it been since he’s been here?  Paint was chipping off a once emerald green slide, revealing the dirtied white plastic underneath, and rust clung to monkey bars and chains of swings. 

Things changed.

This wasn’t news to Asmodeus, but the feeling it left in his stomach was a strange one. Not quite empty but it didn’t quite reach longing either. It was odd, like being a ghost among memories. Even if things looked different now, he could still picture the way they were when he was a child. 

But he wasn’t alone. 

A man sat on the swings in the distance, A steady, rhythmic creaking followed his movements.

Back and Forth.

Back and Forth.

His eyes were trained on the ground, unmoving. 

Asmo felt his heart stop, and jump up into his throat. His cheeks started to darken. He recognized the figure, he would have recognized him anywhere. Even though everything else around him stopped his legs kept him moving forward to the swings. Even now he was afraid to get his hopes up, and yet his heart was ready to leap out of his chest with joy. The chains rattled as he took a seat.

Despite years of wear and tear and looking like it could fall apart at any moment, it still stood strong. It had withstood years of harsh weather and unforgiving winds and people who purposely tried to add dents or break it down. Yet it was still here. It didn’t look the same as when it was first built, but now it also held memories beneath a rough exterior.

Back and Forth.

Back and Forth.

“Solomon?” Asmo’s voice was soft, almost like he was afraid of something.

Solomon stopped, his hands tightened around the chains for a moment. He swallowed the lump in his throat and took in the crisp night air, “Asmodeus.”

“You-?”

“Me.”

“But I- I thought that you-”

“What? That I didn’t like you?” Solomon chuckled, “You never asked Asmodeus.”

Asmo’s face turned even pinker. Of course he’d never asked. He’d assumed Solomon’s feelings because it was safer to assume rejection. “Well you didn’t ask either!  And what was I supposed to do? Risk losing my best friend? Risk one of the most important people in my life? Especially when I didn’t even know… know if you….”

“I saw your partners, I’m not blind. They were all beautiful, I didn’t really think I was like them,” Solomon looked like he was getting nervous. He was playing with the rusty chains of the swing and his eyes turned back towards the ground. “Is this your way of saying you don’t want to?”

“No.”

Asmo was scared his words came out too fast at first, “No, I never said that.” 

Silence.

Back and Forth.

Back and Forth.

Solomon saw Asmodeus stand  out of the corner of his eye and nodded to himself. He really shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. He prepared himself for this. Especially after Friday night. He’d been so off, and Solomon had made one stupid mistake. He didn’t know why his drunken self thought that woman had wanted nothing more than a dance. Maybe it was because all he would think about was Asmodeus. He’d looked so wonderful, better than any words could describe. Solomon felt his fingers twitch every time he brushed up against him. And he had been so warm. Asmodeus was always warm. It was an incredibly wonderful feeling. Solomon honestly thought he might have kissed him that night if things had gone differently. Asmodeus was special, and he deserved someone just as wonderful as he was. Solomon wasn’t-

Asmo took his hand and tugged him away from the swing. Solomon was shocked and just stood there for a moment. He was adorable, beautiful, beyond what words could describe. And he had him. Asmodeus opened and closed his mouth a few times, searching for words he couldn’t find. They came closer together. Solomon’s hands on his hips, Asmodeus laying his arms over his shoulders.

Years of dreaming could even begin to describe how Solomon’s lips felt against his or how wonderful it would feel to have his hands gently caress his body. 

Asmo had been overwhelmingly underprepared for how this would feel.

Near the end of their kiss, Asmo couldn’t help but start laughing. He didn’t realize the tears falling from his eyes until Solomon’s thumb brushed against his cheek. “What?” Solomon asked softly.

Asmo shook his head, “This… All of this is so… So stupid. All this time, I thought you didn’t like me…” He  leaned in and kissed Solomon again. He pulled back only slightly, their lips barely brushing, “I thought you couldn’t like me like that.”

"Well, I can, and I will if you don't mind me doing so."

He thought that Solomon couldn’t have possibly pulled him closer, kissing him until he was gasping for air, hands exploring his body almost hesitantly. Asmo did nothing but give him soft words of encouragement, their quiet laughter breaking the silence of the night. Asmodeus was blooming. Each petal grew and unfurled faster and more vibrant than the last. Vines curled around his arms drawing him closer to the source of his affections. They were tangling them together. Braiding, twisting, and turning until their roots were completely intertwined.   Somehow, they ended up curled up together close to the old playset. Asmo was nestled comfortably in Solomon’s arms, head on his chest and listening to the soft thump of his heart. Solomon’s face was buried in strawberry blonde locks, and every now and again he’d deliver soft kisses to Asmo’s head. His hand was planted firmly on Asmo’s hip, thumb gently caressing his soft skin.

Asmo let out a soft sigh, “I’m afraid.”

Solomon removed his chin from Asmo’s head and looked down at him curiously, “Afraid of what?”

“That this is all a dream,” he murmured, “That I’ll wake up tomorrow, without you, alone in my bed. That I’ll still have all your unanswered text messages waiting for me to open. All the missed calls… That I’ll be without you again, that I’ll still be left wondering alone in my room.”

“It isn’t a dream, unless we’re dreaming together,” Solomon said.

“I want to stay the night with you,” Asmo blurted out, “Please? Just so I know that it’s all real. I want you to hold me until morning. I want-”

He was stopped by another kiss from Solomon. His lashes fluttered for a moment. There was no way this could be a dream. If it was, he wanted to stay here for the rest of his life. Solomon’s hands were cold and left goosebumps all over his body, but Asmo didn’t mind in the slightest. “I’ll stay with you. Wherever you want to go, I’ll go too,” Solomon whispered, inches away from his lips. Asmo loved the way he held him close, how his hands caressed him, comforting him. 

“You mean it?” Asmo asked softly.

Solomon nodded and took one of Asmo’s hands to his lips, leaving a kiss against the soft skin, “I’d follow you to the ends of the earth if you’d asked me. I’d steal every star out of the sky for you if you wanted them. Anything you want, it’s yours.” 

That was how Asmo ended up in Solomon’s arms that night. He was drowning again, but this time he wasn’t panicked. He was drowning in Solomon’s warmth, in the wonderful feeling in his chest. The smell of Solomon filled his senses once more as he held him close. They fit together so well. Asmo wasn’t sure how long they stayed up together. Hours ticked by as he played with Solomon’s finger tips under the covers and soft words were exchanged. Everytime Solomon  pressed a kiss to his forehead Asmo felt a little shiver run through him and his smile grew a little wider. He just wanted to  stay like this forever with his body close to Solomon’s. Every time he thought he was going to drift off, another surge of energy ran through him and he was thrown back into a fit of giggles  and light conversation with Solomon. Asmo couldn’t even comprehend how happy he was. This was beyond beautiful, beyond perfect. It was everything Asmo had ever wanted to feel and more.

Solomon was magical, in more ways than Asmo could have imagined.

*********

To say that Asmo had caused a commotion amongst his brothers would be an understatement. One of them had come up to check on him after he missed breakfast, only  to see Solomon’s messy mop of silver hair rise from his bed. This wouldn’t have been cause for commotion under normal circumstances. However, the two of them had been tangled up together  in the same position they’d fallen asleep in. Well, if Asmo could be certain about anything, it was that his night before with Solomon hadn’t been a dream.

All hell broke loose within the Morningstar estate that morning.

Aside from that, Asmo managed to learn a few of Solomon’s tricks. The first one was Simeon. Apparently Simeon knew about Solomon’s little crush and was also the reason that Asmo couldn’t recognize the penmanship of the letters. Simeon had stunning handwriting and a collection of pretty pens. All of the letters outside of the last one, hand been written versions of Solomon’s words by Simeon. Solomon came up with it, and Simeon helped make it prettier. That and Solomon knew that Asmo would recognize his handwriting. Apparently, Simeon had thought their story was cute, and had been willing to help Solomon. Well. That and according to Simeon Solomon had the most lovesick puppy dog expression on his face whenever he thought Asmo wasn’t looking. 

“He was hopeless,” Simeon claimed, “You should have heard the way his voice tripped over the words, or how sappy he sounded when he would get lost in his descriptions. Every letter had to be perfect.” Of course Asmo had heard these things when Solomon wasn’t in the room. After all, he couldn’t embarrass his darling like that… or maybe he could, but that would be for another time. 

Apparently, Solomon had also been practicing in order to slip the notes without Asmo knowing. Asmo had to concede at this point, Solomon’s magic tricks had come in handy for him. Solomon had had the cutest little smug smirk on his face when Asmo finally said so. 

Asmo yanked Solomon’s hoodie over his head and looked at himself in the mirror. For a moment he hesitated. He could always go with something a little nicer… He debated with himself, going back and forth between his options, eyes darting towards his closet. He could go all out instead of wearing the hoodie. Slowly he pulled his gaze away from his closet and nodded at himself in the mirror. This was good, this would be good. He took another moment to do last minute touch ups on his hair and makeup before heading downstairs at the sound of Cerberus’ barking, grabbing another jacket on the way down. 

Solomon was kneeling on the ground, stroking Cerberus’ head and looking up to talk to Lucifer who was leaning against the doorway. The dog kept squirming and quickly walking around in circles while giving Solomon every possible hello he could think of. Asmo wasn’t exactly what they were talking about, but the sound of Solomon’s laugh made his heart flutter. Oh he looked wonderful…

Adjusting his bag over his shoulder, Asmo continued his way down the staircase and caught Solomon’s eye. The distraction was what Cerberus needed in order to knock Solomon over and lick his face, tail wagging behind him like a hurricane. 

“Cerberus, down,” Lucifer chuckled, Asmo racing over to yank the dog off of his new boyfriend.  Solomon sat up looking a little dazed, he leaned over to check something in his own back before straightening himself out and getting to his feet. He wiped his face off before pressing a small kiss against Asmo’s forehead. Cerberus continued to squirm at Lucifer’s feet for a few moments before settling down.

Solomon pulled back slightly and his hand moved to brush a bit of hair out of Asmo’s face. Despite Lucifer standing close by, Asmo leaned into his touch ever so slightly. Nothing had ever felt this right to him before. No person had ever felt so perfect for him before. “Are you ready to head out?” Solomon asked, letting his thumb run over Asmo’s cheek. With a nod he took Solomon’s arm and was about to head out the door.

“Let me know when you’ll be home. Try not to stay out too late,” Lucifer said, eyes trained on the pair. 

Asmo giggled and waved, “I’ll try.” 

Of course, if he was having fun, he certainly wouldn’t want to end it anytime soon. Why should he cut his time with Solomon short? Honestly, they’d fallen into a couple’s routine quite easily. Perhaps it was the idea that they’d had a rather stable relationship before, but whatever the reason Asmo enjoyed it. He hoped he could keep it this way too.

The crisp, cold air bit at Asmo’s cheeks and nose, turning them the tinting them red ever so slightly. He huddled closer to Solomon’s arm a little closer. Solomon’s eyes glanced towards him, eyes settling on the hoodie peeking out from his jacket. Asmo felt himself grow fidgety. Did he like it? Was he upset Asmo hadn’t dressed nicer? Would he pull away from Asmo? Refuse to touch him?

“You’re wearing my hoodie,” Solomon finally said.

“Yes,” Asmo said, fidgeting  with Solomon’s sleeve, “Do you like it?”

Is it okay?

Solomon hummed and removed his arm from Asmo’s grip. He felt his throat tighten, but before he had time to even dive into a pit or regrets and failure, the arm slipped around his waist and pulled him closer into Solomon’s side. “It’s adorable. It looks good on you. I like it one you better than me,” Solomon smiled. Honestly, to Asmo it sounded like he was stumbling over his words a bit, but he didn’t mind. Asmo was too busy processing the feelings in his chest. He leaned into him closer as they walked down the street, everyone else around them slowly disappearing. They didn’t matter, not when Asmo’s entire world was holding him so close.

“Sorry, if I startled you. I uh- wanted to do this earlier, but I’m pretty sure your brother just threatened me before you came downstairs,” he chuckled, motioning towards his arm around Asmo’s waist, “But that’s to be expected of Lucifer right? I was a little surprised he didn’t say more to me.”

Asmo’s body eased, a smile finding its way to his face, “Well, he does know you, it’s not like you’re a complete stranger.”

“That doesn’t mean he cares about you any less.”

“I suppose that’s true. Maybe it’s because you already came to him about me.”

He could only imagine Solomon standing in the lobby with Barbatos waiting for Lucifer. Fingers playing with the edge of the envelope. Of course Lucifer wouldn’t have just agreed to give Asmo the letter. He’d known Solomon since he and Asmo were kids, he knew how close they were. Of course he wanted to make sense of the entire situation. Asmo was now sure that Lucifer knew something was up with how he and his brothers were acting, and once Solomon spilled everything from his side it had all clicked together for him. Lucifer had known about the letters before Asmo even pulled them out of their hiding spot. Even if no one said anything about it, Asmo was sure Lucifer would have grilled Solomon right there if it hadn’t been for Diavolo finding the whole ordeal quite adorable.

“I wouldn’t let him do anything to you regardless,” Asmo teased, looking up at Solomon. It was true. Asmo wouldn’t let any of his brothers even touch Solomon. 

When Asmo glanced up at Solomon, he noticed he had his hair pinned back. His eyes widened. He’d been so concerned with what Solomon would think of his attire, of him, that he hadn’t noticed he pinned his bangs back. “Your hair,” he started, “You pinned it back.”

Solomon nodded, reaching up with his free hand to run over the pulled back strands. “You mentioned that you liked it like this. So I figured I’d try and do it.”

All because Asmo liked it.

Asmo stared at him for a moment, head tilting every which way. Eventually he let out a small hum. “Well, it is true that I like your bangs back so I can see your incredibly handsome face, and that I think it’s really hot for you,” he said, reached up to put Solomon’s hair back into its normal position on his forehead, “I like this too, maybe even better. It's more you.”

The blush that spread across Solomon’s face was hard to miss, and Asmo couldn’t help but admire it. It was also rather adorable how he tried to hide it behind his free arm. Oh he was so wonderful. It would have been a crime if Asmo hadn’t kissed his cheek right then. 

Eventually they came to a little coffee shop on the corner where the couple tucked themselves away in a corner on the second floor. Solomon dug around in his bag as Asmo slipped his jacket off and buried himself further into Solomon’s hoodie.  He really did love it, maybe he could get Solomon to spray his cologne on it every now and again, or he could wear it when he spent the night…. Or he could always take more of Solomon’s clothes.

“Ah! It’s okay,” Solomon said, making Asmo peak up from his comfortable spot in the hoodie. Solomon pulled out a bundle of bright yellow flowers from his bag. They were in full bloom and vibrant despite the harsh weather. “I was worried they’d get ruined. I think they’re the same ones you liked when we were kids, I had to contact Ash just to make sure. They even knew a little shop that had a green house that grew them.”

Asmo took them with gentle hands, fingers gently grazing over the soft petals. They took him back to their younger days. “You used to pick flowers for me all the time,” he said softly, “They used to grow these all the time at that little ol’ playground.”

“Flowers always made you smile.”

Asmo carefully set the flowers in his bag before setting his hands on the table. Solomon’s hands quickly engulfed his own and held them tight. “I love them, thank you.”

The feeling of Solomon’s thumbs caressing his hands was a soothing one. He liked the way their hands molded together perfectly  no matter how they were holding hands. 

“I was actually thinking about getting another tattoo too.”

Asmo couldn’t help but snort a little, “Where would you even put it? You’re covered!”

“Well, I have a few spaces and I think I’m gonna let you choose,” Solomon took one of his hands back so that he could sip at his coffee, “I want this one to be yours. Like one dedicated to you and everything. I was also hoping you might design it. That way it would be special.”

“Solomon.”

“What? I’m serious.”

“I know and that’s what-” Asmo took in a deep breath, thinking through what he wanted to say next, “That’s what worries me. Solomon we haven’t even been dating all that long, and you already want to do something like that? What if-”

It made Asmo a little worried. He wanted this to last with Solomon for as long as possible. 

“No what if’s,” Solomon tutted, “It’s something I want to do.”

“We haven’t even been together that long.”

“But we’ve known each other for a long time now haven’t we?”

Asmo bit his lip and looked off to the side. It was rather sweet, and Solomon was right. They’d known each other for years now, but they’d just started dating. Then he felt Solomon start playing with his fingers. Gently gliding over top of them, sliding in between them, and squeezing them ever so gently. Just like that, he was drawn back  to the now.  He loved Solomon, and Solomon felt the same way about him. 

“Hey,” Solomon’s voice was gentle, bringing Asmo’s eyes back to his own, “I won’t do it if it’ll make you uncomfortable. If you don’t want me to do it I won’t,I just thought it’d be a nice reminder of you, no matter what happens.”

Asmo thought it over for a few more moments, then a small chuckle left him, “Well, it’ll take me awhile to come up with a design or two for you. By then you should be able to see if you still want to be with me or not.”

That last part was more of a joke than anything, and Solomon couldn’t help but scoff, “Please. As if I’d change my mind. I’ve known you since we were kids Asmodeus, I know you, and I love everything you are. I thought I made that clear in my letters. Perhaps I was wrong.”

“Solomon-”

“Perhaps I should say it more? Text you when I can’t see you? I’ll say it as many times as you need me to and then more Asmodeus. You’re absolutely stunning in every way. I love your passion and how you hold yourself and-”

Asmo put his finger up to Solomon’s lips. The words spoken weren’t as elegant as the ones written on paper, but he didn’t mind. He always knew Solomon was a man of few words, and hearing him gush would always be a treat. It also let Asmo know that he meant every word. Solomon’s face had also become red once more as he started going through his list, and his smile had become so soft. Asmo couldn’t believe how much more in love he could fall. Every time he thought he was at his peak, Solomon brought him even higher.

It was wonderful to have a partner like Solomon.

“I love hearing your words, they’re beautiful, you’re intelligent, and you’re the most wonderful man I could have ever asked for,”  he said, “But if you keep talking like that, I am not going to be able to keep myself away from that handsome face of yours.” He brought his hand back  to his side to grab his cup. This date was hardly different from any other time he and Solomon had hung out, yet it was vastly different from other dates he’d been on in the past. 

It was simple, and sweet, and cliche. And somehow it was one of the best dates Asmo had ever been on. Why did it have to end? Why would he have to go home? Why not spend as much time with Solomon as he possibly could? This was the first time in a long time Asmo genuinely wanted to hang out with his date in a long time. Maybe it was because he and Solomon already had chemistry, but he didn’t care. He loved Solomon and everything he was.

“How can I keep my words from you when they’re true?” Solomon asked. He lifted Asmo’s hand up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss against them. 

“Well I guess you don’t have to stop,” Asmo giggled, “I mean, Lucifer did say that all I had to do was text him when I was going to come home.”

Solomon raised his brow and tilted his head ever so slightly, “Hm? And what does that have to do with right now?”

“Well, no one said I had to come home tonight.”

“Asmodeus-”

“And then you can compliment me for as long as you want.”

“Don’t you need things from your house?”

“You don’t think I packed them already?”

Asmo gestured towards his bag and Solomon couldn’t help but chuckle, “Why am I not surprised.”

Solomon’s eyes flickered, and for the first time, Asmo thought he saw flecks of gold in those beautiful eyes. Perhaps it was because he was finally allowing himself to become lost within them and really study them. Asmo could spend years lost in those eyes. There was so much behind them, and Asmo wanted to take time to unwrap every little gift they held.

“Waking up next to you is a feeling I enjoy, you know,” Solomon continued, “The bed isn’t as cold when you’re in it, and your presence is so comforting. I sleep well when I’m with you.”

“Mhm, because I make you go to bed so you can’t stay up until the early hours of the morning.”

“Alright I’ll concede on that front.”

Solomon’s sleeping schedule was atrocious. Sure Asmo’s wasn’t the best due to college, but Solomon’s genuinely had him worried for his health sometimes. Now, with the boyfriend title, Asmo could finally convince him to go to bed without much fuss. Honestly it was something Solomon needed, and he’d fight tooth and nail to make sure his boyfriend was getting the sleep he needed even if said boyfriend wasn’t always the easiest to convince. 

“If I stay the night, I could make breakfast in the morning.”

“Shouldn’t I make breakfast for you since you’re my guest?”

“Solomon I once witnessed you light eggs on fire. I don’t really want to take my chances.” 

So cooking wasn’t one of his strong suits, but Asmo didn’t mind. He and his brothers had been switching on and off on kitchen duties for years. Cooking for one boyfriend compared to six brothers? That was nothing. It would also mean that Solomon would have left overs and not try to commit accidental arson. That didn’t mean that he would say no if Solomon offered to take him out, he just didn’t want him cooking.

Despite the fact that Solomon was rather cold most of the time, being close to him made Asmo feel warm both inside and out. The sun was still in the sky by the time they left the coffee shop and a snowfall was in the middle of its steady descent down to the earth below. Asmo tightened his jacket around himself he couldn’t help but glance at Solomon. When he did his breath caught in his throat and he immediately went for his phone to take a picture. The snow formed around his head in a perfect halo and made his silver hair sparkle. Solomon stopped and turned to look at him.

“You looked pretty,” Asmo said, looking down at the picture on his phone. There was a reason he had asked Solomon to be his model. Well, more than one reason anyways. Yes it was true he’d always had a crush on Solomon, whether he liked to admit it or not, but he was also attractive and looked really nice in pictures (when he wasn’t thinking too hard about it). 

Solomon looked at their surroundings for a moment. The snow was starting to settle on the ground in a soft white blanket. Most areas were undisturbed still and the few footprints there were, were slowly covered by the falling snow. “We could take some pictures together if you wanted to. You might get some nice ones to post,” he said. 

Oh and Asmo most certainly got some nice ones. Some of just him, some of Solomon, one of him right as Solomon nailing him with a snowball, both of them on the ground because Asmo had soon after tackled his boyfriend-

Asmo scrolled through them all as he was curled up on the couch with Solomon. He wanted to get a few printed out to hang on his wall along with posting them to his pages. A cheesy holiday romance was playing on the TV in front of them. The two of them always enjoyed making fun of the movies and how each one had the same plot as before. Although, there was the occasional one that would make Asmo’s heart swell. There were a few pictures of the two of them that Asmo couldn’t stop flipping between. A couple had stopped and asked if they wanted them to take some for them.

And those pictures had been wonderful.

There was one of them close together, Solomon’s hand on his hip and Asmo’s on Solomon’s chest.

One of their foreheads pressed together with their eyes just barely opened, which was quickly followed by one of Solomon kissing his forehead. 

In each one, there was nothing but adoration in his eyes as the snow fell softly around them. It was all so gentle, so serene, so magical. And Asmo got to experience it. It made his throat tighten. Solomon was perfect for him, almost too perfect.

Asmo buried his head into the side of  Solomon’s chest, making him turn his head  and look down at him ever so slightly. “You alright? Do you need me to get you something?” he asked.

A small bubbly laugh escaped him for a moment, the one Solomon adored oh so much, and he shook his head. “Oh, no I don’t need anything,” he said softly, “I just love you. I love you Solomon.”

“I love you too.”

Asmo’s heart fluttered and he looked up. “Never leave, okay? Stay with me. Right here.”

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you,” Solomon started, leaning over to peck at Asmo’s lips, “Not in a bajillion years.”

“Not even a hundred billion?”

Another peck.

“Not even then,” Solomon wrapped his arms around Asmo and held him close, and Asmo didn’t resist. He gave in to the warmth, the love, every feeling coursing through him in this moment right now. He couldn’t bring himself to deny these wonderful feelings any longer, and he had no reason to. Solomon was giving everything to him, everything Asmo had ever wanted. Everytime Solomon kissed him was better than anything Asmo had ever imagined, everything he said was utter euphoria, and every glance was a tiny piece of heaven. “I love you Asmodeus, and I always will. No matter what happens, I love you.”

And for the first time in a long time, Asmo believed it.

For the first time in a long time, Asmo didn’t need secrets.

For the first time in a long time, Asmo knew what it was to be adored.

For the first time in a long time, Asmo knew love.

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 5: Wolves

(from ‘The Conman and the Maid’ Series)

…in which Harry thinks dealing with hungry wolves might be easier than dealing with an angry girl.

Word count: 10.7k 🔥

Warning: SMUT (but y’all already know), lots of fluff (if that’s what you’re afraid of) and angst (?).

AU: princess!y/n, conman!harry, prisoner!harry.

Series description: Y/N is a princess and Harry is a prisoner in her castle. With his help, she escapes from her arranged marriage in search of a happy ending, if there is one.

Wattpad link (original character: Reyna as Y/N)

A/N: Let me know what you think about this chapter and what you expect for the next one! For those who asked me how many chapters there would be in total, I honestly don’t know lmao. I just plan the story as I write and it has changed a lot from the first outline. But I will see your reactions and comments and decide if there should be a second book✌️ Enjoy!

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Y/N used to fear the woods. She had heard many creepy tales about it as a child and there was nothing worse than a little girl’s imagination. As she grew up, however, she learned that there were worse fears than imaginary monsters. Real monsters were the ones you saw every day in human forms, and so she always felt safer when she was alone.

It was different with Harry. She had enjoyed his company more than any other, and the trip had been pleasant until he ruined it with a stupid kiss. Her mother had always talked about how magical the first kiss would be if it was given to the right person. “No matter how clumsy, simple, or crazy it is, nothing else would ever compare. And even if you’ve never been kissed before, you’d just know you would never experience something like this again with anyone else.”

Y/N kept replaying those words inside her head when she ran from the house. She could not believe she had lost her first kiss to someone who didn’t even want it. And the worst part was, she had felt exactly how her mother had described.

No, don’t be stupid, she told herself, you barely know this man. He’s still hung up on someone else, possibly the true love of his life. So don’t even think about it.

The howling of the wolves in the distance pulled Y/N out of her thoughts. She slowed her horse, feeling the darkness drawing closer and gradually engulfing the two of them. She and Thunder had gone pretty far from the village and she had no idea where they were now. The silvery moon was obscured by the full branches above and she had to squint in order to see the path they were on.

“I think we’ve gone far enough, boy,” Y/N told Thunder as they stopped to navigate. “If we die today, it’s Harry Styles’ fault.”

Thunder pawed the ground as if to agree and Y/N pulled the reins, turning the gelding around. She’d only run into the woods to be alone and maybe give Harry a good scare. She hoped he felt guilty about what he’d done. Being hurt by someone he loved was not an excuse to hurt someone else who cared about him.

She kicked her horse and followed the same path back to the village, head filled with many different scenarios for when she saw Harry again, what she would say or do to him. Maybe she shouldn’t say or do anything at all. Maybe a silent treatment was exactly what he deserved.

Satisfied with the thought, she raced faster. She could finally see the lights in Stefan’s house, thinking she would get there in no time. But all of a sudden, Thunder reared and neighed loudly. The princess was thrown right off his back. Her body hit the snow. She groaned in pain and struggled to sit up, but the first thing she saw was a big white wolf jumping right at her. She screamed. The beast howled and collapsed right on top of the princess as an arrow went straight into its head.

“Peach!”

“Harry!”

Stefan arrived on Lighting with Harry and shot down another one so Harry could get off and help Y/N. She pushed the animal’s body off her just in time another wolf jumped in. Thunder killed it with a hard kick in the throat, rearing and neighing aggressively to scare off the rest of the pack and protect his rider.

Y/N’s head was still spinning. Somehow she managed to draw out her sword and take down another wolf before Harry grabbed her by the arm and helped her get on Lightning’s back.

“What are you doing?!” she screamed when he let go. Stefan held her tightly as she attempted to jump off while Harry told them to go without him.

“Wait, stop! Stop! We cannot leave Harry!”

Her screaming was pointless. Neither of the men cared about what she said as Stefan kicked Lightning and rode off like the wind.

“Harry will be fine! Lightning is injured, we cannot risk it!”

He sounded so sure that she wanted to believe him. She had to believe him. She looked back over her shoulder, eyes filled with tears and kept telling herself, Harry will be fine. Harry will be fine. Harry will be fine…

.

.

.

Harry watched them go and quickly mounted the black horse. Thunder took a giant leap to free them from the wolves, but one was fast enough to catch up with them. It bounced at Harry. His blade went straight for its head, right as its sharp claws dug into his arm. Its body fell onto the snow, and Thunder kept prancing across the open field, back to the village.

Harry’s arm was covered in blood when he got back to the house, and he immediately went to the stable to rinse his fresh wound. The pain made him want to cry, but it was better to clean it than have it infected. Before going in, he tore a piece of his shirt and wrapped it around his arm. He didn’t want to let Y/N know he was hurt.

To his disappointment, she didn’t seem very concerned when he entered. She and Stefan were sitting by the fireplace. The room was too peaceful compared to the chaotic scene earlier.

Harry took a long moment to watch them from the door. The physical pain was nothing now that he’d seen Y/N shaking in Stefan’s arms. He knew she might not want to hear his apology; still, he owed her one. He just didn’t know where to begin.

“Were you hurt?” Stefan looked up at him.

“No,” he lied and quickly hid his wounded arm behind his back.

Stefan only gave a nod before turning back to Y/N. “You’re okay now,” he whispered. “I got you.”

She let go of a shaky breath, holding Harry’s gaze for no more than a second before looking away. “Can you get the cloak in my satchel for me? I’m cold.”

Harry assumed she was talking to him, so he walked over to the table and took her leather satchel. As he pulled out the cloak, something else fell out, causing them to freeze altogether. Y/N and Harry blanched as Stefan widened his eyes at the shiny object now lying on the floor.

“Is that...a crown?” He swallowed, gawking at his friend and then Y/N, but neither could give him a response. He let go of the girl and bent down to pick it up. After taking one long look at it to make sure it was real, he shot Harry a glare. “What have you done?”

“That was--”

“Mine,” Harry interrupted Y/N and ignored the look on her face as he told Stefan, “I stole it from Willem’s castle.”

“What?!” Stefan’s mouth fell open. “You fucking stole a king’s crown?!”

“It belongs to the princess, actually,” Y/N mumbled, eyes on Harry, who was studying Stefan’s expression to decide if he should go on.

“I stole from them and they had me locked up,” he said. “I was going to be executed but Peach helped me escape and in return, I promised to take her back to Theros.”

“Does it mean Willem’s men are after you two?!”

Harry replied with a nod. That was clearly not the answer Stefan was hoping for.

“We’re so sorry we didn’t tell you sooner,” Y/N said as the colours drained out of Stefan’s face. “But we’ll leave tomorrow. We won’t trouble you anymore.”

“You can’t. Lightning needs at least two more days to heal,” Stefan said, looking at Y/N and then Harry. “Don’t worry. I won’t abandon you two.”

“Thank you, brother. I owe you this once.” Harry smiled. He put the crown back into the satchel and handed Y/N her cloak, but it seemed like she didn’t need it anymore.

She wrapped both arms around Stefan’s neck, mumbling “thank you” as he chuckled and hugged her back tightly. Harry stood there awkwardly. He felt like he was interrupting their moment, so he left the cloak on a chair and quietly left. He didn’t think they noticed that he was gone, and he tried not to be upset, but he was. He was bitter, too.

He went back to the stable to check on Thunder and Lightning. He didn’t really have to though. They were doing much better than him, and at least they had each other. He was alone. Now he couldn’t stop thinking about what could’ve been if he hadn’t kissed her. He could’ve lost her tonight. He felt so fucking stupid.

After a moment of self-reflection, Harry returned to the house and stayed outside until the cold became unbearable and he had to come back in, only to find Y/N and Stefan cuddling on the mattress on the floor. They were fast asleep. Watching them triggered something in him, though he wasn’t sure what it was, it wasn’t something he was supposed to feel. So he tried to shut it down by pretending he was fine and decided to go to sleep.

He came to lie down on his side next to Y/N. He lay still while staring at her face, mostly her lips, where his lips had been, and then recalled the feelings he’d been dying to shake off.

By the time his eyelids grew heavy, he had memorised every feature on her lovely face. The rhythm of her breathing eased his mind, slowly and easily sending him to sleep.

.

.

.

Harry was so exhausted he slept until noon. When he woke up, Y/N and Stefan were gone. Stefan had left him some food on the table but he didn’t bother to touch it. He wasn’t hungry. He was worried.

He wasn’t a team player, but suddenly he hated how they had excluded him from whatever they were doing at the moment. Neither had bothered to wake him up so he could join them, even though he had literally saved their arses last night in the woods.

Not knowing what else to do or where else to go, he sat at the door and waited for them like a sad puppy. A few hours later, Stefan returned with a cart full of wood.

“Sleep well?” he asked, but Harry didn’t bother to answer.

“Where’s Peach?”

“I don’t know.” Stefan gave a shrug. “She was here when I left the house.”

“What?!” Harry was about to run when Stefan held him back by the arm.

“Don’t worry. She left her stuff here so she probably went for a walk or something.”

Harry gave a nod as his brows furrowed but he actually felt relieved.

“I’ll be staying with my cousin tonight,” Stefan said as Harry helped him unload the cart. “She’s pregnant and she needs someone to look after her and the baby while her husband is away.”

“Oh, it’s all right. Peach and I will be fine on our own,” Harry said.

“My cousin owned an alehouse,” Stefan added. “Rain said she had never been to one so I’m going to take her there. You could come with us if you want.”

Harry stopped as soon as he heard. ‘You could come with us if you want’? Since when did they become an ‘us’ and he became someone who just ‘came along’?

Inside, he was fuming, but he covered it up with a smile and said, “I’d love to come,” and didn’t forget to add, “just so you know, Peach cannot drink.”

“We’ll make sure she won’t.” Stefan smiled, completely ignorant of Harry’s attitude. “Watch the cart for me.”

“Okay,” Harry said as he ran his hands over his face.

As Stefan carried some wood inside, Harry took the chance to pull up his sleeve to check the wound. It didn’t look any better, especially in the daylight. The blood had dried but it was redder and aching more than last night. He didn’t know how long it would take for such a wound to heal, but he might not be able to hide it until then.

“How’s your wound?”

“Fuck, Stefan! You scared me!” Harry gasped as he tucked down his sleeve but it was no use as Stefan had already seen it.

Stefan arched an eyebrow at nodded his head toward Harry’s arm. “It looks bad. I’ll get you some herbs to put on it and it’ll heal faster.”

“Thank you.”

“I think if Peach knew—”

“It’s Rain for you.” Harry picked up his sword and strapped it to his waist, glaring at the poor fellow who had to correct himself.

“Sorry. Rain.” He smiled. “If Rain knew you got wounded, she wouldn’t be mad at you anymore.”

“No.” Harry shook his head as he put up a finger. “If you tell her, I would literally kick your arse.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want her to think I’m this...this weak bastard who cannot protect her,” Harry blurted as his eyes fell to the floor and his cheeks turned pink. It wasn’t like him to admit something like this aloud, but Stefan only chuckled.

“From what I saw last night, she doesn’t need anyone’s protection.”

“That’s what she wants you to think,” Harry said and turned to head for the stable.

Stefan quickly followed. “What were you two fighting about anyway? It seemed serious.”

“It’s none of your business.” Harry rolled his eyes.

Stefan didn’t give up. He rushed forward to stand in front of Harry and both men stopped before reaching the stable doors.

“I’m going to court her.”

“What?” Harry scoffed. “No, you’re not.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“Neither was I.”

Confused and a little bit offended, Stefan followed Harry as he kept on walking. He didn’t wait for Stefan to ask and just continued, “I don’t think Peach is interested in romantic bullshit at the moment, brother. She’s going to Theros with me to reunite with her uncle. That’s where her heart’s at.”

“I can give her a good life here,” Stefan insisted. “It’s not safe for her in Theros nor Isolde. I’ll take good care of her.”

“You barely know her.”

“And you do?”

“Better than you ever will.” Harry exhaled sharply as he walked into the stable, towards Lightning’s stall.

The horse neighed happily when she saw him. Risking their lives for the same girl had really helped them bond, even though they didn’t receive the same treatment for it. Harry supposed Y/N had come to check on Lightning earlier that morning, but she didn’t even want to look him in the eye or bother to ask him if he’d been hurt too. Though he believed he deserved that, he was heavy-hearted still.

“She’ll have a family, Harry,” Stefan spoke after Harry had stopped giving him attention.

Without looking at him, Harry lowered his voice, “she has a family in Theros. She’ll be happy there.”

“What if her uncle is dead? Have you thought of that?”

The question froze Harry to the spot. He stopped petting Lightning and looked over his shoulder to meet Stefan’s worrying eyes.

“She hasn’t met him in so many years. He could’ve died in the war like my whole family, Harry. She’d be risking her life for nothing.”

Harry’s eyes fell to the ground. He was quiet for a moment and then squeezed his eyes shut.

“I said no,” he said. “A marriage doesn’t always bring a woman comfort and happiness. Peach grew up in Willem’s court so she knows that better than anyone.”

“Just because it didn’t work out between you and Kenny it doesn’t mean it’d be the same for everyone else.”

Stefan’s face went pallid as soon as he realised what he’d just said. He expected Harry to draw out his sword and stab him right in the guts. But surprisingly, Harry didn’t say a word. He already knew him being against Stefan courting Y/N had nothing to do with Kenny. And maybe it had never been about Kenny...

“Hey.”

The soft voice pulled their attention back to the entrance. Y/N stood there with her eyes wide, but she didn’t look at Harry for more than a second before turning back to their friend. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“Where were you, Peach?” Harry asked, but she completely ignored him.

“Is it far from here?” she asked Stefan, who awkwardly scratched the back of his head as he saw the irritation on Harry’s face.

“No, we can go on foot,” he said and repeated the same question, “where were you?”

“I went to the market.” She smiled. “Everyone was so nice to me even though they don’t know me. I wish I could stay here forever.”

When Y/N walked out, Stefan hurriedly followed. He was grinning from ear to ear but Harry couldn’t even move his lips. What did she mean by that? Would she even consider staying here with Stefan if he asked? After all, family and love were two things she’d been searching for, and she could have both if she stayed.

He exchanged looks with Lightning who seemed to understand the situation he was in. She snorted and shook her head, making him chuckle.

“This is not about me. This is about Peach reuniting with her uncle,” he told the horse and rolled his eyes when she turned away. Maybe even she could tell he was just lying to himself.

.

.

.

“Are these people friends? What are they laughing about?”

“They’re drunk, genius,” Harry scoffed, making Y/N glare at him.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said you’d never gone to a place like this.” Stefan chuckled as he took them to an empty table in the corner.

Harry rolled his eyes, pushing his way through the crowded room as he followed Stefan and got annoyed by almost everything he saw. He had always loved this kind of atmosphere, but he wasn’t in the mood to have fun tonight, not when Y/N wasn’t talking to him, and Stefan could pop the ‘big question’ any minute.

Why did he even care though? It would save him so much trouble if she agreed to stay here? He would make it home faster on his own, and once he’d crossed the South’s border, he’d be safe. Willem had no authority in Theros and, therefore, had no right to arrest him. That would be the perfect picture, and yet, one big puzzle piece was still missing.

He looked at the girl -- the burden he’d been wanting to get rid of since they met outside his cell. Now given a chance, why did he hesitate? If he’d been so sure it was simply lust that drove him to kiss her, then how should he explain this -- the way his heart started racing and him forgetting to breathe whenever their eyes met?

He had felt something similar with Kenny, but definitely not the same, never as intense. And suddenly he feared that he might never get to feel it again if they ever parted.

“I’m getting an ale.” He quickly got up. “You two want some?”

“I’ll have one, please,” Stefan happily said.

“Is it good?” Y/N asked Stefan, her eyes went round, making him laugh.

“It is. Do you want to try? Bet you’d love it.”

“Oh, then I’ll have one as well!”

Harry scrunched up his nose as he looked at her. “Peach, you cannot drink.”

“You know what?” She smiled at Stefan and stood up instantly. “I’ll get it myself.”

As Y/N made her way towards the bar, Harry and Stefan exchanged looks with each other. Stefan was rather confused whereas Harry was frustrated. He combed his fingers through his hair and flopped back down onto his chair.

“You should go after her,” he told Stefan, not even looking at him. “You want to court her, right? The least you could do is keep an eye on her.”

“Right!” Stefan plastered a smile on his face and patted Harry on the back. “Thanks, brother. I’ll be right back.”

Harry was finally left alone at the table to regret the things he’d just said. He should’ve come with her, and now Stefan was going to have a chance to shoot his shot.

“Fuck, I don’t care,” he murmured and crossed his arms in front of his chest, pouting like a little boy.

“Hey, handsome.” As a shadow towered over him, he looked up and wasn’t too surprised to see a familiar face.

“Hey,” he said in an indifferent tone, thinking the girl would take it as a sign to leave him alone. But she didn’t. She pulled up a chair and sat down next to him, resting her chin on her knuckles as she studied his hardened expression.

“Where’s Stefan?” she asked.

“Don’t know,” he answered, sounding rather bored, but she wasn’t offended.

“When did you get back?”

He stayed quiet this time. Honestly, he didn’t even remember her name. He had only met her once when he was here the last time. Stefan had said she was the most attractive girl in the village and he must admit it was true. Still, he’d turned her down for he’d been loyal to Kenny back then. Now? He didn’t really know...

“I’m so sorry about your girl.”

This time, she’d got his full attention. He turned to see her arrogant smirk and released a slight laugh. “Did Stefan tell you?”

“He couldn’t help it,” she said in a seductive tone while circling the back of his hand with her finger. “I have my ways with men.”

“Not all men.”

“Wanna bet?”

He could. After all, he was single now. He could take her to the back, bend her over and fucked her good. He hadn’t been with anyone in so long, so a night with this girl didn’t sound like a bad idea. But after thinking for a second or two, he said, “how about we talk for a bit?”

“Talking isn’t my thing,” she said, “but whatever pleases you, love. We’ve got all night.”

She kissed him on the cheek, got up and told him she’d be back with some ales. This is good, he thought, I’m going to have a great night, and nothing can stop me from having fun. But then his eyes travelled across the room to where Stefan and Y/N were, and suddenly it didn’t feel as good anymore.

The girl returned with drinks for both of them. They talked about random things and he had to beat around the bush whenever she came close to asking him questions about Kenny or his family. He had never been comfortable talking about them to someone he barely knew. Y/N had been an exception. He didn’t understand why, but it was always different with her.

“Who was the girl that came here with you?”

“A friend,” he said, wanting to turn around to check on Y/N and Stefan, but the voice inside his head told him not to.

“She’s really pretty,” said the girl, who was slightly tipsy now. “Is Stefan courting her?”

“No. Does it look like it to you?”

“Well, yeah? Why are you so offended?” She laughed and poked his dimple with her finger. “Are you jealous, handsome?”

“Not.”

“You soooo are.”

“Whatever.” He snorted, rolling his eyes. “I’m not having a debate with a drunk lady.”

“I’m not drunk. She is drunk.”

“Huh?”

The girl gave a shrug and Harry snapped his head to where her finger was pointing at. Stefan and Y/N were laughing loudly with a bunch of middle-aged men. Her face was bright red and Harry had seen her blush too often to mistake her being drunk for her usual shyness.

“I fucking told him not to let her drink!” He slammed his hand on the table, making the girl flinch. He was sure she commented something on his reaction, but he didn’t hear it as his jaw dropped and his eyes popped out.

Y/N was listening to Stefan’s story when one of the men took advantage of her distraction and groped her breast. She instantly snatched his wrist, bending his arm backwards until he started shouting in pain.

“I’ll finish your ale then!” said the girl as Harry got up, but he couldn’t care to reply. He swiftly made his way to Y/N before something worse happened like he knew it would.

“Touch me again and I’d break your arm!”

“This little bitch!”

Y/N caught the man’s other wrist before he could slap her, and before anyone could react, she thrust her knee right into his crotch and he collapsed onto the floor, grunting while holding his balls. Another fat guy stepped up but Harry was fast enough to take his hunting knife and put it to his throat.

“You lay a finger on the lady and I’ll slaughter you and your friends like pigs, ya hear me?” he murmured into the man’s ear, pressing the blade harder until he begged him to stop.

“Ay!” shouted the big lady behind the counter, “no fighting in my house! Take it outside!”

“I’m sorry, Harry—”

“It’s okay, Stefan.” Harry sighed as he shoved the man out of the way. He was angry at Stefan for being careless but he knew it wasn’t entirely his fault.

“You stay here with your cousin,” he told Stefan. “I’ll take Peach back to your house.”

“What are you doing?” the princess cried out when Harry grabbed her hand and pulled her with him. “No! I’m having fun! Stop making me go! I don’t want—”

She let out a high-pitched scream when he picked her up and tossed her on his shoulder.

“Let. Me. Go!” She hit him with each word but he was unfazed.

“There’s nothing to see here, folks! Enjoy your ale!” he told everyone, carrying her on his shoulder and heading for the entrance.

Once they had left, the big lady, who was Stefan’s cousin, turned to him and said, “give them another month into marriage and they’ll eat each other alive.”

.

.

.

“What is wrong with you?!”

Y/N shoved Harry away as soon as he put her down on the bed. He sat down on the edge of it, eyebrows knitted together as he looked at her.

“What is wrong with you?” he asked. “You knew you couldn’t drink and still—”

“I was fine!”

“You caused a scene! We’re supposed to lay low!”

“A man touched me without my consent and it was my fault?!”

“No, it’s not,” he breathed, reaching out to touch her knee, but she turned her back to him. “Peach…”

“Leave me alone.”

“You know I didn’t mean that. That man clearly deserved it,” he said and placed his hand on the mattress right beside her. “I just...I just didn’t want you to get hurt. If anyone knew why we’re here—”

“I know, okay?” She slowly turned her head to look over her shoulder, holding his gaze. He didn’t know what he should expect her to say, but he was surprised when she told him, “I just wanted to feel like a normal person for once.”

And that was when it hit him. He was wrong. She hadn’t done those things to pay him back for stealing her first kiss. She just wanted to feel ‘normal’.

He wouldn’t understand what it was like to spend his childhood within high walls, but he knew it wasn’t pleasant. She had never got to do the things he and Stefan and the people in that alehouse had been doing their whole life. And now he felt like shit for thinking everything was about him.

He wanted to tell her there was no such thing called ‘normal’ in this world, and there was nothing wrong with her, but he stayed silent and gave a nod before moving his hand back to his knee.

“Can you get Stefan for me?” she asked.

He didn’t know why that question made him sad, but he managed to keep a straight face. “Stefan’s not coming home tonight. He’s staying with his cousin.”

“Oh…”

“I can stay here with you.”

“I don’t want you here,” she blurted, her forehead creased. “In fact, I don’t think I want to go back to Theros with you.”

“Peach—”

“I’ve thought about it. Either I stay here or I go alone. We can’t be around each other anymore.”

“You’re saying this because you’re drunk.”

“No, I’m saying this because you fucking used me!”

Harry’s mouth clamped shut as his eyes shifted to his lap. He already could have guessed that was how she’d been feeling since last night, but to hear her say it aloud really made him feel worse.

“You kissed me because you needed to get over another girl,” Y/N said, her voice was taut. “You stole my first kiss and called it a mistake, so you’re just as bad as the other men. Maybe Stefan is the same too. I don’t know him that well and I’m too afraid to find out.”

“Are you falling for him?” The question escaped Harry’s lips before he could hold it back. He looked up and saw her eyes widened at him.

“Why does it matter?” she asked. “So what if I am?”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t fall for him...please.”

Harry pressed his lips together, taking a moment to rearrange his thoughts but they were all over the place, and if he opened his mouth, he might say something stupid again.

“Why? What’s wrong with Stefan?” This time, her voice was low and unhurried. She was cautious, which made him mad, for she should never be cautious around him.

“No, he’s a nice guy. There’s nothing wrong with him,” he finally uttered as his eyes fell to the floor.

Y/N shifted and tilted her head to look at his face. “Then why?”

“Because…” Harry breathed. He had no idea what was in the ale, but he couldn’t seem to stop blurting out everything that was on his mind. “Because I don’t want you to.”

As she stared at him with the biggest frown on her face, he guessed it wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

“You don’t want me, and you don’t want me to want someone else,” she said, her forehead puckered. “Why are you so selfish?”

“You’re drunk. We’ll talk when you’re sober.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not! Don’t believe me?”

Quickly, she got off the bed and picked up their swords from the table. He watched in confusion as she placed them on the floor to make a straight line and stood up, spread her arms and started walking on them.

“Can a drunk person do this?” she asked, walking back and forth about four times without losing her balance. “Watch. Can a drunk person do this?”

Harry let out a suppressed chuckled which stopped her in her tracks.

“Oh, you think this is funny?”

“Peach.”

“Stop it.” She shrugged her arm away as he attempted to grab her elbow. “I don’t like that name. You’re not allowed to call me that anymore.”

“All right. Would you prefer sweet Peach or grouchy Peach, because you could be both?”

She opened her mouth but was unable to utter a word as he closed the distance between them and cupped her face.

“If you don’t want to, don’t do it,” she warned him as he leaned in. He hesitated as if to think before running his thumb across her bottom lip.

“I want to,” he said. “Do you...do you want me to?”

She was blushing harder than before, not knowing what the right answer should be, but eventually, she gave in to temptation. She granted him permission with a nod, and he wasted no time to press his mouth against hers.

Their second kiss started off slow and became more eager as he ran his hands up her back and she had her fingers tightened in his hair. They moved backwards until he plopped back down on the edge of the bed. He held her hips as she straddled his waist, hands at the nape of his neck. Her body tensed when he put his tongue into her mouth, and he had to pull back and ask, “was that all right?”

She nodded, licking her lip. “Sorry...I’ve never—”

“It’s okay. You’re doing great.” He beamed and kissed her again.

It took a lot of courage for him to bring his hand between them and touch her breast. After what had happened tonight, he wasn’t sure if it was okay, but when she reacted with a moan, he went ahead and squeezed it gently, brushing his thumb over her nipple as it went hard under her poet shirt.

He was already sweating, as if there was a fire starting from the pit of his stomach and spreading across his entire body. He could blame it on all those months he’d been alone, but he was well aware that this was something he’d never felt before. When he touched Kenny like this for the first time, it had been sweet and tender, but this felt like all the best emotions converged at once and exploded like fireworks inside his chest.

“Harry…” Y/N tossed her head back as he started kissing her neck. Their skin was hot and slick. The fire painted the whole room red and orange, but he could see her whole face and her chest flush as if she’d spent a whole day in the sun.

When he moaned into her throat and bucked his hips, he didn’t even realise he was doing it. She had to place a hand on his chest to stop him.

“What’s wrong?” He freaked out, his eyelids fluttered as he brushed her hair out of her face. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head, her chest rising and falling against his as she sucked in a breath and pointed between them. It was only then that he noticed the bulge in his pants firmly pressing up against her centre.

“Fuck…” he cursed, resting his forehead on her chest. He could feel her body stiffen and knew this had freaked her out quite a bit. He was well aware that he was massive, and she had never experienced this with a man before.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

He cleared his throat, trying not to laugh so she wouldn’t feel bad for her innocence.

“A little, but it’s a good thing.” She still seemed confused, so he elaborated, “it only gets like this because...because I...um...because I want...”

Normally he wasn’t afraid to talk dirty to a girl who was literally sitting on his dick, but this one had never kissed anyone beside him, and he didn’t want to scare her by being too straightforward.

“Because you want me?”

The way she said those words while batting her long lashes made his cock bloat and twitch in his pants. Fuck, he wanted her. He wanted her so bad. He already imagined tearing off her clothes and fucking into her, but he knew he couldn’t have her that way. She was a virgin and they couldn’t go further than this.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said, taking her hips and shifting her away from his cock. Both of them were still blushing and catching their breath. “We can stop. It’s okay.”

“What if I don’t want to stop?” She bit her bottom lip, staring attentively at his mouth. “What if...what if I want you, too?”

Harry was tongue-tied. He felt like he couldn’t move a single muscle in his body so he honestly didn’t know what to do next. He didn’t expect her to be so bold, and he assumed it was the ale that had turned her into this.

What the fuck did they put into that thing?!

“What are you doing?” He caught her hands as she reached for his belt.

“I want to make you feel good,” she said quietly. He was still in shock to hear her say that, but she didn’t wait for him to speak and went on, “I’ve never done this before but--but they taught me how so I want to try.”

“Who taught you?”

Seeing the surprised look on his face, she gave a lopsided grin and nibbled on her bottom lip. “The ladies in the castle.”

“Fuck, they teach women this stuff?” He held her arms as they both dissolved into laughter.

She arched her neck for him to mouth at her throat. Her fingers were in his hair, her eyes were closed but she kept on talking, “they said every lady must know how to please her man, but I’ve never taken those lessons seriously so I might be awful at it.”

‘Her man.’ The words made him shudder, in a good way, and he didn’t know how to feel about that.

“But what were you learning that stuff for?” he asked, disgusted by the first thought that popped up in his head, “don’t tell me you have to please that bastard Egon--”

“Eww, God, no!” She snorted, shaking her head fast. “For when I’m married. If my husband is happy, then I’m happy, right?”

“You don’t have to be married to be happy,” he said.

“It depends on who you’re marrying.” She smiled.

Harry said nothing else as he caressed her cheeks. He thought about what Stefan had said earlier in the stable and felt a lump in his throat as he imagined attending their wedding one day. It was unlikely that she would say yes, but he didn’t know for sure.

“What is it?” Her voice brought him back to reality.

“Nothing,” he said, bringing their foreheads together and meeting her lips. He kissed her harder with more passion as if he feared he could never do it again, and only stopped when she reached for his belt again.

She was disappointed when he pulled her hands away and brought them to his lips. He looked up and gave her a grin. “You have no idea how much I want you. But I can’t make you do this.”

“Can we still kiss though?” she asked shyly. “I like kissing you. It feels good.”

“I like kissing you, too.” He nudged her jaw with his nose and put his lips against her throat. “Does this feel good?”

“Hmm.” She urgently nodded. “Harry…I’m so wet.”

“Fuck.” He buried his face into her neck, one hand squeezing her arse, the other resting below her ear. “Say it again.”

“I’m so wet, Harry, please...”

“Why are you wet?”

“You know why,” she whimpered, holding his shoulders tighter.

Harry flipped them over to get on top while she was lying on her back. Before she could speak, he asked, “do you trust me?”

She answered with a nod and he pushed his lips to hers again. She put both hands on her chest as he removed her skirt and tugged down her underwear. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

When she nodded again, he kept his eyes steady on hers and lowered his lips to kiss the skin under her belly button. Her first instinct was to grab his hair as her stomach tightened and she chewed on the corner of her lip. He held one of her hands and waited until she finally loosened her grip on his hair to move further down, draping her knee over his shoulder.

He put one palm flat against her stomach and dragged it down, allowing his middle finger to graze across her slit slightly. She gasped, her eyes rolled back in pleasure. Harry watched her expression tighten as he slipped his middle finger into her and she gripped his hand, her other hand still in his hair. His fingers curled so he could push in deeper.

“How did you get this wet?” he breathed.

Y/N was panting, her lips sucked into her mouth and he smirked before sliding his tongue slowly against her, never breaking eye contact as he tasted her for the first time. She smelled so sweet, like everything he’d fantasized about and even more, and now that he’d had a taste, he didn’t know he could ever stop.

She fisted his hair tighter and breathed through an open mouth as he closed his lips around her clit and sucked before slipping in a second finger. He closed his eyes, letting himself get lost in his actions. He fucked her with his fingers while working his tongue enthusiastically, slurping up her wetness. She tilted her head and arched her back, calling out his name.

His mouth froze as she flexed around his fingers. He cursed against her clit, his warm breath tickling her wet core and nearly sending her over the edge. He knew she was close when she started squirming and bucking her hips against his face.

“Harry!”

Her thighs clamped around his head as she cried out, lifting her back off the mattress. She held fistfuls of his long locks while he rode it out with her, emptying her before pushing himself up between her legs and crashing his lips against hers. When she moaned against his tongue, he knew she could taste herself on his lips, and the thought had him going crazy.

“How are you feeling?” he asked with a tender smile.

“I’m so embarrassed.” She laughed and covered her face, but he quickly removed her hand so he could kiss the tip of her nose.

“Why are you embarrassed, love?”

“I was loud.”

The way her nose crinkled made his heart flutter.

“Well, I loved how loud you were.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he said, brushing his lips against hers until she started smiling again.

They lay face to face for a long moment, until the comfortable silence became overwhelmed and Y/N was the first to speak.

“Why did you come to Isolde?”

If another person had asked that question, Harry would’ve refused to answer, but since it was her, he spent a second thinking.

“My family was poor, very poor. My mother was sick, and we didn’t have enough money to get her a good doctor. I tried working as a blacksmith like my father, but it didn’t really help us, so I had to find a faster but riskier way to get money. It’s not something I’m proud of, but I’m good at it. I flirted with the ladies and stole their jewellery, fed the men’s egos for their shiny coins. I ended up getting a bad reputation back home so I had to leave Theros and go somewhere nobody knew who I was, where I could do what I do best. I wanted to return as a rich man and help my family.”

“That’s very sweet.” Y/N’s face lit up with a smile as she brushed his hair away from his eyes. “Don’t worry. With all the gold I’ve stolen, you’ll be the richest in your village when you get back.”

“Wow, look at us. Two sexy thieves,” he joked and they laughed together.

He really wanted to tell her he didn’t want her gold. She could keep everything she’d stolen once they’d arrived in Theros. He just wanted to take her home so she could reunite with her uncle, and maybe keep her around, if she let him.

He wasn’t sure about it. It was too soon to say anything, but all he knew was that he was happy at the moment, and he didn’t want it to be over just yet.

“What?” She lifted one eyebrow when his eyes bored into her.

“No, I’m just--” He snorted. “I’m just thinking of your face when you—”

“Stop it!” She cackled and swatted his arm, making him hiss and wince in pain.

“Are you okay?!” She hurriedly sat up as he did.

“It’s fine.”

“Let me see.”

“No,” Harry protested, but she’d already taken his hand and pulled up his sleeve. Her eyes nearly fell out of her head when she saw his swollen wound. And Harry knew there was nothing he could say now that would convince her he hadn’t got it from last night.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“It’s nothing.”

“How could you say that?! Look at it!”

“I am. It’s fine.” He chuckled but his eyes stayed on her. He thought her reaction was funny and adorable at the same time, but he wasn’t going to say it as she might hit him again.

“What were you thinking?” Y/N grumbled. Harry said nothing as he pressed his mouth gently to her frown, trying to distract her but it didn’t work. “I was so fucking scared last night! You could have died! I knew at least you’d get hurt.”

“I thought it was heroic.” He popped his dimples, amused by how much it annoyed her. “Come on, Rain. Don’t be mad.”

“What did you call me?”

“Rain.” He gave a toothy grin. “You don’t like being called Peach, right?”

“Well...I changed my mind.” She crossed her arms and stuck up her nose, making him chuckle as he took her hand and kissed it once.

“Forgive me, Lady Peach.”

She rolled her eyes, smirking and scooting closer to take a better look at his wound.

“I wanted to ask if you were all right last night, but I was too proud to let you know I was worried,” she whispered and looked up into his eyes, “I thought you might not make it back and I was so scared.”

“I was scared too,” he admitted.

He guessed she might assume he was talking about being eaten by the wolves. But maybe it was for the best if she didn’t know he was scared of losing her.

.

.

.

When Y/N woke up the next morning, she was alone in bed. She wondered where Harry had gone, but then she heard his voice outside talking to someone and decided to go see who it was.

She stepped out into the sun, eyes squinted as she leaned against the door and saw him chatting with two girls outside the stable.

“Hey.”

“Stefan!” She flinched and turned around as Stefan gave a smile and apologised for scaring her.

“When did you get back?”

“Not so long before you woke up,” he said. “How are you feeling? Did you and Harry make up already?”

“Um...yeah…” The princess shyly tucked a strand behind her ear as she stuttered, “you could...you could say that.”

“Good. It felt weird that you two didn’t talk to each other,” Stefan said, but Y/N didn’t pay attention to reply.

“Who are they?” She furrowed her eyebrows, pointing to the girls Harry was talking to.

“Oh, those girls? They work for my cousin.”

“At the alehouse?”

“Yeah.” Stefan shrugged. “After Harry had left with you, they kept gushing about how ‘sexy’ he was when he threatened those men. I’m not surprised they came to see him first thing in the morning.”

“They both think he’s...sexy?” She tilted her head, pouting a little as she watched the three of them laugh together. It was obvious that those girls wanted Harry, and Y/N had never felt jealous until now.

“Harry gets that a lot from the ladies,” Stefan said. “He’s been with many women, but Kenny was the only one he’d ever loved. Poor Harry. He must be devastated.”

Y/N crossed her arms over her chest and grounded her jaw. “So...he’d never cared about the other girls he’d been with?”

“Of course not. But I’m sure they didn’t mind.” Stefan scoffed as he lifted his shoulders. “It’s probably different where you’re from, but it’s normal for most of us to lust after someone and not want to commit to that person. Harry can always separate romantic feelings from sexual pleasure, and Kenny was the only woman he’d slept with and had feelings for.”

“Oh...” Y/N muttered, feeling her heart gradually shrinking.

She used to think sex was something special between two people and only men like Egon would treat it as insignificant. Now that she knew most people were like that, it hurt more than she was willing to admit. She couldn’t risk falling for someone who might not ever feel the same. She had never tried, but she knew she couldn’t separate love from lust. With her life at risk, she didn’t want to deal with another heartbreak.

Nervously, she waited for the girls to kiss Harry goodbye to approach him. His smile grew twice as big the moment he saw her.

“Good morning!” he said happily. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, did you?” she asked, and he nodded.

“Yeah. I woke up before sunrise but I didn’t want to wake ya.”

Y/N pressed her lips together as Harry took a deep breath. He waited for her to speak, but she didn’t, so he reached out to touch her hair, and she reacted quickly by stepping back, leaving him dumbfounded.

“Let’s talk about last night.”

His face fell instantly. “Oh, shit! I’m so sorry if--”

“No, no, don’t be.” She gave a timid smile. “I enjoyed it.”

Though he was smiling back, she could tell he was impatiently waiting for what came after, so she took a deep breath and went straight to the point. “I think we should both agree that it shouldn’t happen again.”

Harry blinked fast, he didn’t know what to say. It must have been as awkward for him as it was for her, so she was reluctant to go on.

“Yeah, it’s--” Y/N inhaled while fidgeting with her own fingers. “I know that people tend to separate romantic feelings from sexual feelings, but...I don’t think I can. And I--” She paused suddenly, looking up and meeting his worrying eyes. It was crazy how she could take some time to acknowledge how handsome he was, but she had to keep herself together and remember what was right for her. It was certainly not him.

“I don’t want to fall in love with you.”

Harry was taken aback, and so was Y/N herself. She didn’t think she could say it aloud, but now that she had, she didn’t regret it. She hid her trembling hands behind her back and continued, “this could get complicated if we took it any further, so maybe we should stay friends, because I really enjoy having you around.”

Harry pursed his lips as his forehead puckered. She didn’t know what was going through his mind right now, but the look he was giving her was so intense she could hear her heart beating in her ears.

“Okay,” he said at last, “let’s stay friends.”

He took it better than she’d expected. And for some reason, she was relieved and irritated at the same time.

Harry seemed to notice the way she kept chewing on her lip, so he joked, “did you mean you could fall in love with me?”

“Just take it as a compliment,” she said and gave his shoulder a nudge.

The corners of his mouth quirked up as he kept staring at her.

“What?” She chuckled.

“Can we still kiss?”

The question left her speechless, but she managed to keep her composure and cleared her throat. “No. But we can cuddle, like last night.”

“That works for me,” he said, flashing her a grin.

When silence had taken over, Y/N was so glad Stefan decided to interrupt. He came up to them with some flowers, and before Harry or Y/N could ask him what they were for, he gave them to her.

“I went to the woods this morning and got you these.”

“Oh my, these are beautiful!” Y/N sighed happily and clutched them with both hands. “Thank you, Stefan. I love them.”

Harry watched Y/N admire those flowers and felt his stomach tighten. Something didn’t feel right, especially when he saw how happy Stefan was with this little achievement. Although he’d agreed with her that they should only be friends, he hated to see Stefan showing her affection and her liking it.

Last night had been the happiest he’d been in a long time. And even though they had been tipsy and so unable to control themselves, he didn’t regret the things they had done. If they took it further, however, things might get complicated. He couldn’t do complicated. So this is for the best, he told himself.

But still, he couldn’t help but wonder if she remembered what he’d said about not wanting her to fall for Stefan. He assumed she didn’t, and it bothered him more than it should.

“Where are my flowers?” Harry jokingly asked Stefan. He hoped humour would cover up the fact that he was in a bad mood, and somehow it worked as Y/N took a flower and put it behind his ear.

“Here you go,” she said, smiling. “So pretty.”

The way she bit her lip and gently fixed his hair made his heart flutter and he didn’t even realise he was grinning like a fool. He watched her walk back to the house, thinking to himself, maybe this could work. Maybe they could be friends.

.

.

.

The wound on Lightning’s leg had healed and it was time for them to continue their journey to the South. They woke up at dawn the next day to prepare the horses and gather their things.

Stefan offered to take them to the next village, for he also had to go there to deliver wood and pick up a few other things. Y/N expected that they would spend the night at a friend’s house or at least in an inn, but Stefan told her straight away that they would stay in a brothel.

The princess had never thought one day she would have to visit a brothel. But consider the fact that she had lost her first kiss and let the same man who’d kissed her eat her out, anything could happen at this point.

“But is there no other option?” Y/N asked as she rode Thunder side by side with Harry.

Stefan rode his cart ahead of them as he turned his head and told the girl, “trust me, Willem’s men won’t be looking for you in a brothel.”

“Why?”

“Why would a maid go to a brothel?” Stefan scoffed.

“Peach would,” Harry joked and Y/N immediately kicked his leg as he broke into laughter.

They travelled for an entire day without stopping and managed to get there before sunset. They left their horses outside and followed Stefan into the two-storey house which looked decent on the outside, but dark and filthy on the inside.

Y/N walked close to Harry, hugging his arm and burying her nose into his coat. The foul smell of the place made her want to throw up, and she wondered how some men could spend every night at a place like this instead of home with their wives.

“How am I going to get laid if you keep holding me like this, Peach?” Harry joked, smirking as Y/N punched his shoulder and shoved him away. She knew a joke was just a joke, but the thought of him with one of those women, or anyone other women for that matter, made her skin crawl.

She walked faster to catch up with Stefan. He headed to the long counter where sat a big lady whose breasts were so large and clothes were so tight, Y/N wondered how she could even breathe. This woman must be the madam.

“Russo! Styles!”

“Wait, she knows you two?”

“Of course I know them, dear,” the madam told Y/N while sizing her up. “Are you one of my new girls?”

“She’s my friend. Her name is Rain,” Stefan said. “Rain, this is Leslie, the owner of the place.”

“Nice to meet you.” Y/N gave a small smile, but Leslie was too busy eyeing her up and down to return a smile.

“Oh, well. If you change your mind, Rain, we’d be glad to welcome you to our family,” Leslie said, making Harry snort and Y/N smacked him again.

“Is this your first time in a whorehouse, love?”

Y/N nodded, already blushing.

“Aww, look at that puppy dog face.” Leslie puckered up her thick lips and pressed her palms against her chest. “I like this girl. She’s so shy.”

“Not always,” Harry said, causing Y/N to shoot him a glare and he quickly locked his lips with an invisible key and tossed it over his shoulder.

“These boys used to come here all the time. They basically lived here for a while when they were fifteen, sixteen.” As Leslie proudly patted the men on the back, they both groaned and begged her to stop, but she didn’t. “Well, not here here. I used to own a brothel in Theros but I had to move away because of the war. It was bad for business. I’m telling ya, men would rather kill then pay to get fucked and I feel sorry for them.”

Leslie rolled her eyes and leaned forward, her breasts nearly spilling out of her tiny corset. “Thank God, my boy Russo still visits me once in a while. Styles, on the other hand, chose the boring life and stayed loyal to one girl. What was her name again? Candy?”

“Kenny.”

“Whatever.” She gave Stefan a wave. “Can you imagine? Sticking your dick in one hole for the rest of your life? Yuck.”

Seeing how frightened Y/N was, Harry stepped closer to her.

“Leslie is actually very nice,” he whispered into her ear while stroking her back.

But then Stefan spoke, “Harry and Kenny are not together anymore.”

“Stefan!” Harry cried out. “You need to stop telling everyone about my business!”

Despite Harry’s reaction, Leslie was overjoyed. She clapped her hands and shook her fists in excitement. “Perfect! There’s no heartbreak a threesome cannot solve! I’ll get you two best whores for tonight!”

“Actually, I--”

“Gerta! May!” Leslie shouted to the back and two beautiful women rushed out to meet their new potential customer.

“That’s very kind of you but I’m not here for this,” Harry said as the girls pulled him away from Y/N, running their hands all over his body.

Y/N freaked out when one of them pushed Harry onto a chair and straddled his waist as the other got down on her knees by his side to kiss his neck.

“Woah, woah, ladies!” he hissed when the girls removed his belt. The memories from two nights ago flashed before Y/N’s eyes and she turned away, fuming with jealousy.

“What about you two?” Leslie asked, switching her fingers back and forth between Y/N and Stefan. “I’m not sure if any of my girls is into ladies but--”

“No, no, no, we just want to rent two rooms for tonight,” Stefan said, giving Y/N a small smile as she seemed a bit terrified.

“No whore, just room?” Leslie asked.

“No whore, just room,” Stefan confirmed, laughing nervously.

“Well, we only have one room so--”

“We’ll take it,” Y/N said and snatched the key from Leslie’s hand before she could put it on the counter. “Thank you. And just to be clear, Harry is paying for those girls. We have nothing to do with that.”

“Oh...okay.” Leslie widened her eyes as she lifted her shoulders in a half shrug and got up from her chair. “Come on, sweets, I’ll show you the room.”

.

.

.

It was late, almost past midnight, and they still hadn’t heard from Harry.

“Rain, go to sleep,” Stefan said as he propped up on his elbow and found Y/N sitting on the bed, eyes fixed on the door.

The room was rather small and there was just enough space on the bed for one so he’d given that spot to her. She felt bad that he had to sleep on the floor while she got the bed and didn’t even want to use it. But it wasn’t her fault, it was Harry’s. It was all his fault for making her wait.

“What’s taking him so long?” she asked while fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

Stefan lay back down, closing his eyes again. “Can’t you blame him though? He hadn’t slept with a woman in so long. Now he’s got two.”

“Well, I think he won’t spend the night with them,” Y/N said, but there was no response, and five seconds later she heard Stefan snoring softly.

She hugged her knees to her chest, still watching the door. Her eyelids felt heavier and heavier, and just before she was about to drift off, she heard footsteps ascending in the hallway.

That must be Harry, she thought and quickly climbed off the bed and lay down on the floor next to Stefan. She snuggled up to his side and pretended to sleep. Though she knew it was childish and stupid, and if Harry found out, she’d be so ashamed, she just had to know how he would react to her falling asleep with Stefan. She wanted him to be jealous, just like she had been.

She stilled as the handle shook gently and the door finally creaked open. Harry stepped in. She closed her eyes before he noticed that she was awake and heard the door shut and his footsteps stop right beside her.

She tried to steady her breathing, but her heart was pounding as she didn’t know what he was going to do. Surprisingly, Harry bent down and picked her up. She kept pretending to sleep as he carried her in his arms to the bed and gently laid her down on her side. She thought he would leave her there and sleep on the floor with Stefan. But then he lay down behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her to his chest.

“I know you’re awake,” he suddenly spoke.

Y/N froze at once. Though she couldn’t see his face, she knew he was smirking with his eyes closed. And dear God, she had never been more embarrassed.

She took a moment to calm down and finally broke her silence, “you smell like those girls. Did they let you use their perfume?”

Harry responded with a quiet laugh. Why was he laughing? Was it because she sounded bitter? Did he think she was stupid? A thousand questions popped up in her head in that one split second before he answered, “that’s why I need to cuddle you, so I could smell like you.”

She could feel a smile in his voice and she tried to keep her composure by biting her bottom lip.

“I didn’t sleep with them,” he added. “I was drinking with Leslie.”

“I don’t care.”

“Yeah, it’s not like you were waiting for me to come and cuddle you or anything.”

“I wasn’t!” Y/N’s mouth fell agape as Harry released a low chuckle.

“Whatever you say.” He sighed, holding her tighter. “Go to sleep, Peach.”

While his chest was rising and falling steadily against her back, Y/N could feel his heart beating in sync with her own. She bit her lip to hold back a grin and turned her head slightly to look at his face, their lips were just an inch apart. She almost betrayed her own words and asked him to kiss her again.

“Good night,” she murmured.

Harry peeked with one eye, his dimples popped as he saw her face. “Good night, love.”

.

.

.

In her dream that night, Y/N saw her and Harry sitting in front of the fireplace, surrounded by complete darkness, no ceiling or walls or even a floor. It looked like they were just floating, and yet she felt warm and safe with his arm around her shoulders and him reassuring her that it would be all right.

When he kissed her, it felt so real, as if it was real. She didn’t know it was a dream until she couldn’t feel his lips nor his touch anymore.

“Harry?” she asked, pulling back to look at his face as it suddenly twisted, fear darkened his eyes.

“Wake up, Peach,” he said, his voice echoing. “Wake up! They’ve found us.”

“Who?”

“They’ve found us. They’re here.”

Her eyes shot open, and the first things she saw were the dark grey ceiling and Harry’s face looking the same as it had been in her dream.

“They’re here, Peach. We have to leave.”

“Who’s here?” she asked when he pulled her up and hurriedly gathered their things.

“Willem’s men. They’re searching every room for us.”

Y/N blanched at her father’s name and suddenly someone banged on the door. She and Harry froze, holding their breath as the banging got louder and more violent.

“Open the door! Prince Egon’s order!”

[our-time-is-now]

June 18, 2019: Bea, saviors and carrots

(previous play)

You can find more information about the authors, translators, content warning and additional information about the plays in the pinned post on our blog.

Tuesday, 5:36 pm:

David: *he and Matteo are just returning from grocery shopping, each of them carrying a semi-heavy shopping bag, when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket* *groans briefly and tells Matteo* Hang on… *puts the bag on the ground and takes his phone out of his pocket* *smiles when he sees Bea’s number and briefly informs Matteo* My godmother… *answers the call and then picks the bag up again* Hey Bea! *continues walking but realizes quickly that walking with the heavy bag while simultaneously talking on the phone isn’t that easy and looks around for a bench or some wall or something*

Matteo: *stops when David does and waits* *only nods when David informs him* *continues walking and notices David struggling and takes the bag from him* *silently pretends to collapse but then continues walking normally*

Bea: David, my dear, hello! How nice that I was able to reach you, am I interrupting something?

David: *protests a little at first when Matteo takes the bag from him because he doesn’t want Matteo to lug so much and then grins when he pretends to collapse* *shakes his head at his aunt’s question and laughs* You’re almost never interrupting… we’re just on our way to the flatshare… we’ve been grocery shopping… *briefly looks at Matteo to see if he can really manage carrying both bags* *then asks his aunt* How are you?

Matteo: *grins very broadly at David* *but quickly sticks his tongue out at him when he looks over*

Bea: Oh, everything’s great. I’m happy to hear you in such a good mood. But if you’re walking right now I’ll keep it brief: I wanted to invite you to my birthday, and, of course, Matteo as well if he wants to?

David: *pulls a face at Matteo but then grins and turns his attention back to his aunt* *frantically tries to remember when Bea’s birthday is and is already planning on telling Matteo the date so that he’ll remember it for him* *is happy that Matteo is also invited* I’ll just ask him, I’m sure he wants to… *grins and looks over at him again* *makes a distressed noise and asks a little ruefully* When was your birthday again? Sometime next month, right? *remembers that it’s always pretty warm*

Matteo: *hears an ‘I’ll just ask him’ and perks up* *then shakes his head in mock exaggeration* *grins slightly but leaves David in peace, after all*

Bea: It’s on July 19th, this year it’s a Friday, but I’ll celebrate on Saturday. But you’re welcome to stay the whole weekend, of course… and by the way, your parents aren’t coming in case that somehow convinces you to come.

David: *laughs at the mention of his parents* Well then I’ll definitely come… *shakes his head and adds* No, but for your sake I would have endured them for a couple of hours, but if they’re not coming it’s more chill, of course… *repeats the date again so he won’t forget it* So your birthday is on July, 19th, but the party’s on July 20th. *feels like he forgot about something* *thinks for a moment and then suddenly remembers their holiday* Oh, no, hang on! Damn! That’s when we’re on holiday! We won’t be back in Berlin until the 21st…

Matteo: *listens to David and can imagine what it’s about, an invitation to Fürstenberg* *then hears the date and immediately shakes his head* *was just about to nudge him when he remembers it himself*

Bea: Oh, man, what a shame. And I was really hoping to finally meet your Matteo, and to see you again, of course. I’m so curious. Are you already busy when you come back or do you maybe want to come visit the weekend after?

David: *smiles when she says that she finally wanted to meet /his/ Matteo and would also be happy for her to meet Matteo* *thinks for a moment about her question about the weekend after, but can’t really think of any plans* *but wants to make sure and ask again so tells Bea* Could you stay in line for a moment? *lowers his phone and turns to Matteo* *smiles slightly* Bea is inviting us to Fürstenberg on the weekend after our holiday. Do you want to go? And do we have time? *looks at him with puppy-dog eyes and hopes that he wants to come along*

Matteo: *looks at him expectantly when he lowers his phone even though he already has an idea of what he’s going to ask* *grins slightly when he asks if “we” have time* Umm… sure I want to, I’m dying to meet all of your heroes… and plans, no, unless you have some short-notice doctor-thing on Friday, but then we’ll just go afterwards. *have finally arrived at the building of the flatshare and with a groan puts down the bags so that he can look for the key*

Bea: Sure… *then hears David ask his boyfriend a little muffled but still well enough to understand everything* *immediately smiles when she hears him* *waits for David to tell her the good news and decides to keep it to herself that she heard Matteo*

David: *smiles quite broadly when Matteo is talking about his heroes and is happy that he wants to go* *stops for a moment when he mentions doctors because he just remembered that the day after tomorrow he really has to talk to his doctor about the testo dosage and if he has to come back before or after their holiday because his usual appointment for the shots would be right when they’re on holiday* *but nods at Matteo’s words and smiles again* Good plan! *quickly kisses him on the mouth and puts his phone back to his ear* Bea? *sees Matteo unlock the door and tries to take one of the bags off him so that he doesn’t have to lug both of them up the stairs* We’re happy to visit you the weekend after and you can already think about what present you want to get so that we don’t buy something stupid…

Bea: Oh, how nice! And you know me, boy, I already have everything I want. You spend money on train tickets, that’s enough present for me.

Matteo: *refuses to let David take a bag* *but pushes David around so that he is holding the door open* *then grabs both bags and walks past David into the building and up the stairs*

David: *grumbles at Bea’s words about the present and grumbles because Matteo won’t let him help* *then sighs at his aunt* Okay… *is probably going to draw something and get a bouquet of flowers once again* I suggest I’ll call you again once we know when we’ll arrive… *hurries up the stairs behind Matteo who is surprisingly fast* *wants to take the bag off him at least for the last few meters but doesn’t really have the chance to because he’s already almost all the way up*

Bea: *laughs slightly when he grumbles* You know I’m happy about flowers and a drawing. See you soon, my dear! Have a nice rest of the day!

Matteo: *puts the bags down again once he reaches the door and unlocks it* *wants to pick both of them up again but David is faster* *laughs* It doesn’t matter anymore now… *enters the apartment after him and lets the door fall shut* *follows him into the kitchen and puts the bag down on the counter*

David: *says goodbye to Bea and puts the phone back in his pocket* *is just in time to grab one of the bags and carry it into the kitchen* *laughs at his words and shakes his head* Noo, I’m sure you would have collapsed on the last few meters… *puts the bag on one of the stools and then steps behind Matteo at the counter and wraps his arms around him* *kisses his neck and murmurs* … and I can’t be responsible for that… *kisses him again and murmurs a little more quietly* Thanks for carrying them!

Matteo: *laughs and nods* I’m sure I would have, thanks my savior. *smiles when David wraps his arms around him and puts his hands over David’s* *laughs quietly* You’re welcome. *turns around in his arms and wraps his arms around David’s neck* So, I’m going to meet your godmother soon… anything I need to know?

David: *smiles when Matteo turns around to him and nods at his statement* *thinks for a moment and then shakes his head* Nothing important… Bea is a registrar and lives in a small house with a garden in Fürstenberg… it’s somehow really quaint and full of stuff at her place… and she’s really cool, talks a lot and has always been there for me. Exactly what one imagines godmothers are like. *laughs again and says* I’m really happy that you’re coming along and that you’ll meet each other… maybe we should take Laura along – then I’d have all my saviors around me! *laughs quietly*

Matteo: *smiles when he tells him about Bea* Sounds nice. *then laughs out loud* All of your saviors, huh? Maybe we should get this printed on t-shirts! *kisses him quickly* You don’t even have to be saved, you loon.

David: *laughs at Matteo’s idea about the t-shirts* Oh yes, please! In trans colors! *smiles when he gets a kiss and pulls Matteo a little closer* *then hears his words and gets a little more serious but is still smiling a little bit* *has a firm conviction that Matteo has definitely saved him but knows that he would immediately disagree if he would tell him that* *therefore simply says* Not anymore… *smiles again and gives him another kiss*

Matteo: *laughs at his suggestion* Unfortunately those colors don’t suit me, at all… *tilts his head a little* *can imagine what David is thinking* *smiles at his answer* *kisses him back and then kisses him again* *then slightly nudges him with his nose* Okay… and now you can decide how I’ll save you from starvation… what do you want me to cook?

David: *draws up his eyebrows in skepticism when Matteo says that the trans colors wouldn’t suit him and only says* I think you can wear anything!! *grins while he says it* *then gets another kiss and smiles when Matteo nudges him with his nose* *loosens his grip around him, lets go of him slowly and thinks* Hmmm… maybe that tarte you were talking about? We put the ingredients for it on the list, didn’t we? *turns to the bags and starts to unpack the things* *turns his head back towards Matteo and says in a good mood* And you can decide what I should help you with! *has planned to look over Matteo’s shoulder while he cooks to maybe one day be able to cook, himself*

Matteo: *only laughs and shakes his head* Liar *nods about the tarte* Yep… but I’ll need the recipe for that, I can’t make it by heart… *only shakes his head when he says that he wants to help* *grins* You can print out the recipe for me. And then you can sit down over there so that I have something pretty to look at. *laughs and slightly nudges him with his hip when they want to put something in the fridge at the same time* *sees David’s disapproving look* Okay, okay, if there’s something you can help with I’ll tell you, but I haven’t made the tarte that often yet…

David: *looks at Matteo disapprovingly when he says that he’s not allowed to help but nudges him back with his hip* If you won’t let me help I’ll never learn and then you’ll have to cook for me for the rest of your life! *but then nods satisfied when he says that he’s allowed to help, after all, and grins* Yeah! *then turns toward the door and says* I’ll just go and print out the recipe… *has already left the kitchen but sticks his head back in* Oh and could you and your super-brain do me a favor and remember Bea’s birthday? Would be really nice if I wouldn’t forget it next year for a change… *grins again and then disappears* *briefly wonders if it was July 19th or 20th and hopes that Matteo has paid attention*

Matteo: *theatrically clutches his chest* Oh now, how horrible! *then nods when David says he’ll go print the recipe* Yes, in a big font, please! *wants to already wipe down the counter and goes over to the sink when David sticks his head back in* *laughs at his request and nods* *then calls after him* The 19th, by the way! How did you remember birthdays before you met me?? *rinses the rag and then wipes down the counter*

David: *didn’t answer Matteo’s question and instead went into his room to print out the recipe in a big font* *a short while later returns to the kitchen, where Matteo has already prepared everything, and puts the recipe down for him* *then takes a carrot, simply because it was lying around, leans his back against the counter and starts to absentmindedly turn it around in his hands* *returns to Matteo’s question from a minute ago and says a little bitterly and sarcastically* My mother always reminded me about family birthdays – of course always with a reproachful undertone why I couldn’t manage to remember them myself… *didn’t have many friends whose birthdays were worth remembering* *continues* At some point I even wrote them down but it’s no use… then I forget to look at the note. *grins slightly and then shrugs* And now I have Laura and you for the dates… *then looks over to see what Matteo is doing and waits for instructions* *puts the carrot back to the others*

Matteo: *splays out the recipe* Thanks… *then looks at it to see what has to be done and starts* *rolls his eyes when David tells him about his mother* Damn I really want to meet her one day… it’s not important to you that they like me, right? *shakes his head disapprovingly* *but then grins slightly and nods* I’m happy to remind you. *points to the carrots* You can peel them if you want…

David: *laughs when Matteo asks about his mother and shrugs* If one day they annoy me so much that I want to completely terminate all contact with them, then you’re welcome to rage and riot as much as you want… *looks around for a peeler and sees that Matteo has already put one out* …but she would complain about it to Laura and I’d be sorry about it for Laura… *starts peeling the carrot bot isn’t really happy with what he’s doing* *tries something different that works better* …whereas… Laura can actually defend herself pretty well… so *grins slightly* …rage and riot as much as you want. *is finished with the first carrot and is quite happy with the result* *holds it out to Matteo* There still has to go some at the top and the bottom, right?

Matteo: *hums slightly when he says that it wouldn’t be completely okay* No, no, then I’ll rather hold back… but only a little. *had already turned his attention to some other vegetable and didn’t really pay attention to what David has been doing* *then looks at the carrot he’s holding out to him* Ummm, yes? You can chop off the ends but the rest has to be peeled… *then watches him peel for a moment and realizes how his heart skips a beat because he does it so incredibly complicated* Noo… *laughs slightly and takes the peeler and the carrot out of his hands* Look, like this… *briefly shows him how to do it faster and more efficiently*

David: *grins slightly and says* A little bit is okay… *wonders when Matteo and his parents will meet in the first place – probably only when it can’t be avoided anymore, at all* *nods about chopping off the ends* *then eyes it and realizes that there really is some peel left* *was just about to remove it when Matteo takes the carrot and peeler from him* *only briefly looks at the carrot and realizes quickly how Matteo is holding the carrot and peeler but then only looks at Matteo and has to smile* *somehow can’t tear his gaze away from him because he looks so incredibly good when he’s so focused*

Matteo: *has peeled the carrot, puts the peeler back down on the counter and reaches for the knife to chop off the ends* And voila… the carrot’s ready! *holds it out to him and only then feels like David isn’t really focused* *looks at him and lifts his eyebrows* What?

David: *hears that Matteo has finished peeling the carrot and only nods* *grins slightly when Matteo  looks at him and lifts his eyebrows* *shrugs and acts all innocent* Nothing… *quickly presses a kiss on his mouth and keeps grinning* I just like looking at you when you’re so concentrated…

Matteo: *lifts his eyebrows again when he hears his “nothing”* *but then gets kissed and has to smile automatically* *feels a strange flutter in his stomach when he hears David’s words but shakes his head* You like looking at me when I concentrate on peeling carrots? *slightly tilts his head* Is that a new fetish we have to talk about? Is that exclusive to concentrating on vegetables or does that also entail other things? Like, for example, fruit? Or spreads?

David: *grins and nods at his question about the carrots* Exactly like that… *but then gets more and more skeptical when he hears his other questions, pffs once, tilts his head and says sulkily* Haha… *looks at Matteo reproachfully, turns away from him and reaches for another carrot and the peeler* *does it the way Matteo has showed him – because he DID pay attention – and is happy about the fact that it’s really working better this way* *ignores Matteo*

Matteo: *grins slightly when David turns away sulkily* Oh, come on… you can tell me… *continues doing his thing with the vegetable he’s occupied with* Is it exclusive to the kitchen or other things as well? What about when I concentrate on tidying up? *turns around and only sees David’s back who is ignoring him* Or to making the bed? *no reaction* Vacuuming? *still nothing* *puts his peeler down and steps behind David* And what about… when I concentrate on you? *slowly wraps his arms around his stomach and puts his head against his shoulder* *kisses his neck and then his ear* *whispers* Come on…

David: *finds it hard to ignore Matteo completely but is incredibly happy with himself that he really manages to ignore him while also perfectly peeling two more carrots while Matteo is talking some nonsense* *then feels Matteo step behind him and is still able to ignore his question but realizes that his concentration on the carrots is subsiding somewhat* *unfortunately has to stop peeling when he feels Matteo’s arms around his stomach and his head on his shoulder because he’s simply so in love with this idiot and simply can’t manage to ignore him when he’s that close /and/ also starts kissing his neck and his ear* *eventually grumbles quietly* You’ve ruined my Matteo-concentrating-sight… go away! *but contrary to his statement leans slightly against him*

Matteo: *laughs quietly at his grumbling* Sorry… won’t happen again… I promise… *ignores his “go away” and instead kisses his neck again* Let me make it up to you, ok? *kisses up his neck wherever he can reach* *murmurs quietly* Do you still want me to go away?

David: *briefly closes his eyes when Matteo starts kissing up his neck and tilts his head a little so that he has better access* *has to grin when Matteo asks him if he still wants him to go away and makes a grumbling noise* *puts the carrot and the peeler down because now he can’t think about peeling carrots anymore and slowly turns around – which proves to be difficult as he’s half stuck between Matteo and the counter* *puts his arms around Matteo’s neck and tilts his head again so that Matteo can continue kissing him there* *runs one hand through Matteo’s hair and mumbles* All right… you can continue…

Matteo: *grins slightly when David only grumbles* *already knows this grumble and continues* *but then pulls away slightly when David turns around* *looks at him challengingly and grins in triumph when he tilts his head* *is already kissing his neck again even before David gives him permission to do so* *kisses up to his ear and murmurs* We could also cook later…

David: *presses even closer to Matteo when he starts kissing his neck again* *still has his eyes closed, one hand buried in the hair on his neck and at some point slips his other hand under Matteo’s shirt at his back and tenderly runs his hand over his bare skin* *gets goosebumps when Matteo kisses up to his ear because it tickles a little and tilts his head slightly so that he can also kiss Matteo’s neck* *grins slightly when he hears Matteo’s words and kisses up his neck, up his chin until he finally finds his mouth* *pulls him even closer while kissing him properly, then pushes away from the counter and takes a step towards the kitchen door together with Matteo* *briefly pulls away from the kiss and says a little breathlessly* Now I can’t concentrate on peeling carrots anymore, anyways…

Matteo: *feels slight, pleasant goosebumps when David’s hand slips under his shirt* *kisses him back and stumbles backwards when David pushes off the counter* *grins as if he had just won the lottery when he hears David’s words* *murmurs* That’s it… *grabs his hand and quickly pulls him into his room*

(next play)

[gaynoctgar]

A Small Comfort

Summary: Set after Noctis’ and Ignis’ argument in Episode 4 of Brotherhood, Noctis learns to lean on his closest friend in his time of need.

Pairing: Prompto/Noctis, pre-relationship

Word Count: ~2800

So...I’m finally posting a fic I wrote.  Last time I watched Brotherhood, I had wished Noct’s mental health was addressed more, so I made it happen!  Trigger warning: a panic attack is described.  I hope you enjoy!

>>i kno its late, but do u wanna come over?

Noctis stares hard at the cursor blinking at his screen, thumb hovering over the “send” button.  Ignis has just left, and Noctis himself has screamed so hard he doesn’t think he can scream anymore, but there’s still a persistent ache in his chest, a need to not be alone.  He can’t call Ignis, obviously, and he can’t call Gladio, so that leaves…

Noctis has been careful to leave Prompto out of this part of his life.  It means so much to him that when he is with Prompto, he doesn’t have to worry about any of this. He doesn’t have to think about sustaining the wall, or complicated political reports, he can just be a normal teenager.  But right now, he finds himself craving comfort in a way that he hasn’t since he was younger, when he was first injured.  That doesn’t make the reaching out any easier.

He hits send before he can think any better of it and throws his phone across the couch.  Immediately, it buzzes, and Noctis scrambles to look at the message.

>sure thing dude.  Need me to bring anything?

In spite of everything, Noctis feels his heart lift slightly.

>>uh, junk food maybe?

>>but if you don’t have any uh >>just bring you.

Oh shit, he really sent that.  He triple texted.  But Prompto’s reply is just as quick.

>omw, the metro should get me there in 20. you feelin okay?

Well that’s...a question.  The obvious answer would be “no” but Noctis falters before replying with that.  He doesn’t want Prompto to think of him any differently, to see him as the prince.  But he also, somehow, really wants to talk  about this with someone he knows will just listen.  Then, he thinks, that’s not fair to push onto Prompto.  He can’t burden Prompto with all of this.  Prompto has a life free of these kinds of worries, and Noctis cares about him too much not to keep it that way.  Still...they have been getting closer lately.  Noctis has never had a best friend before, but he suspects that best friends talk about these things.  Are Ignis and Gladio best friends?  Do they talk?

Just then, Noctis hears a knock at his door, startling him out of his thoughts.  He looks down to see 5 more texts from Prompto that he missed while he was spacing out, and he rushes over to open the door.  There stands his friend, with the promised junk food, and an overnight bag slung over his shoulder.

“Did ya fall asleep on me?” he tries to joke as he steps inside, but then he glances at Noctis again.  It’s a look Noctis has never seen before, one that Noct doesn’t quite know how to parse.  He then realizes what a slob he must look like--still in his school uniform at this late hour, unwashed hair sticking out every which way, clothing rumpled in weird places--and makes to say something about it, but Prompto very gently places a hand on his shoulder.  Firm.  Grounding.  He sets the junk food down and looks at Noct dead-on.

“Hey...are you okay?” he asks, and Noct’s reflexes tell him to say that he’s fine, to downplay everything he is feeling, and to ignore it and make a joke to avoid having this conversation.  But he looks at Prompto, at his soft features, his loose hair, the freckles that dot his face, and his swirling purple eyes, and it suddenly feels like he can’t breathe.  The look in his eyes is so gentle, and he just wants to help Noctis, and all of it is a bit too much and--

Wait.  

He actually can’t breathe.  

All he can think about is that conversation with Ignis, replaying in his head, and his fear of telling Prompto what’s really going on, what he will really have to face someday, because if he does he will lose him and he can’t lose Prompto, this precious boy who is so kind, and he can’t lose his father, and--

When did the floor get so close?

Somehow, he is kneeling on the ground, and Prompto is right there with him.  He’s saying something but the words sound fuzzy, like there’s a high-pitched whine blocking everything out.  Both of Prompto’s hands are on his shoulders--the only sensation he can really register--and he focuses all of his energy into understanding what Prompto is saying.  It’s really hard because all he feels is the blood rushing through him, like he just ran a marathon, and breathing is even harder and takes up so much of his effort right now.  He feels dizzy, like he hasn’t eaten in days.

“...--ear me?” Noct manages to make out.  Prompto’s probably asking if Noctis can hear him.  He nods, slightly.

“Good, that’s really good, buddy,” Prompto soothes him, his voice getting clearer with each word, but Noctis still feels as though he...can’t move from this strange position he’s found himself in.  He thinks, vaguely, that if it weren’t for Prompto’s hands on his shoulders, he might actually die.  He wants to tell him this, to say thank you, to do anything, but it all catches in his throat.  Why can’t he move?

“Just breathe with me, okay?  Can you do that?” Prompto is asking him.  Was Noctis not breathing?  He nods again.  Prompto begins counting out the breaths, and Noctis does his best to follow along, each deep breath easing his muscles, and slowing his heart down.  He hadn’t realized how fast it was beating.  He doesn’t know how long they stay there, breathing slowly, in and out, until Noct’s body releases him from the grip he was in.

“Better?” Prompto asks, simply, and Noctis finally has it in him to look at him.

“S’good,” Noct replies.  “Thanks.”

He tries to get himself off the ground, but of course his bad leg is acting up.  Yet another thing he hasn’t told Prompto.

“Whoa there, let me help,” Prompto is saying, hoisting himself up and reaching a hand down to Noct.  Noct takes it, gratefully, and leans into the touch more than he’d like to admit to get himself standing again.

“I’m sorry.  I have no idea what just happened,” is what flies out of Noct’s mouth before he has the chance to stop it.

“Has it happened before?” Prompto asks earnestly, and Noct shakes his head no.  At least...not that he could remember.  Maybe now and then, but he usually just slept it off, now that he thinks about it.

“I...think that was a panic attack, dude,” Prompto says slowly, carefully, guiding Noct to sit back on the couch with him.  “Have you been worrying about something?”

Was that what that was?  All of the worry he’s tried to lock away...consuming him?  Noctis shrugs noncommittally.  

“If you have...I’m here if you need,” Prompto says, softly.  “But I won’t make you talk if you don’t wanna.”

Noctis realizes his friend is giving him a way out.  And if nothing else, he knows that Prompto will be true to his word.  If he says he doesn’t want to talk, Prompto will not push him, and will at least pretend to forget about the incident.

But…

Noctis can’t shake the feeling that not talking is exactly what got him here.  He’s only 16, and he’s pretty sure most people his age don’t just break down like that.  Yes, Prompto is offering him a way out...but he is also offering him comfort and help.  On his own terms.  Not because Noctis is a prince in need of protecting, but because he’s his friend.  Maybe, if he’s careful…

“...it’s a lot of things, to be honest,” Noctis finally breathes out, when he remembers how to make his mouth say words again.  “...prince stuff.  I don’t wanna…” he mumbles, turning away.

But Prompto has reached out to place a hand on his shoulder again.  

“Doesn’t matter to me if it’s prince stuff.  It’s definitely bothering you,” he begins, softly, slowly, giving Noct time to process every word.  Now that Noctis thinks about it, Prompto has always spoken to him like this: gently, slowly, even when he is angry.  But this voice?  It’s soft, and low, almost as if to remind Noctis he is safe here.

“Right but I….you….you’re separate from all that.  I like it that way,” Noctis tries to explain.  “You remind me I’m someone beyond that…I…” he continues, but it fades away.  Prompto’s arm has slid around his shoulders, tugging Noctis in to lean against him, and Noctis doesn’t have it in him to fight it.  Hell, he doesn’t want to.

Prompto laughs just a little bit when he sees how Noctis has curled into his side on the couch, and slides his hand up to card through his hair.  It feels...nice, comforting, but something else too.  Almost...electric, like little sparks are dancing across his nerves when Prompto’s fingers brush across his scalp, gently pulling the knots in his hair free.  Noctis has been feeling this more and more recently, and he doesn’t really know what to call it.  Maybe it’s just that he’s so starved of physical contact aside from getting his ass kicked in training.  He sighs into the contact, and he can hear Prompto’s voice vibrating under his ear.

“Yeah, you’re my best dude, you know that.  I definitely think of you as Noct first,” he turns, slightly, attempting to make eye contact with Noct, who keeps his face turned away, “but you also happen to be Prince Noctis.  It’s a part of you, and you don’t have to shut me out of it.  I want to help you with whatever I can, whether it’s a really difficult boss fight on a video game….or prince stuff,” he finishes, smiling to himself.

At this, Noctis does bring his head up from Prompto’s shoulder so he can look him in the eye.  Prompto smiles at him softly, his indigo-purple eyes drawing Noctis closer in a way he can’t quite describe.  He wants to say something, anything, to tell Prompto how amazing and wonderful and patient he is.  Instead...he slumps forward, on instinct, burying his face in the crook of Prompto’s neck, wrapping his arms around him in an embrace.  One that Prompto eagerly returns, after a moment of shock.  Noctis can’t even remember the last time he was hugged, let alone the last time he initiated a hug, but it feels...natural and good.  Prompto traces the fingers of one hand up Noctis’ neck and tangles them in his hair once more, his other hand softly rubbing his back.

Noctis feels so comforted that he doesn’t ever want to leave, doesn’t want to think about saying anything to spoil the moment.  But he trusts Prompto more than anything and, the longer they are here, pressed close together, the more he feels the urge to talk about it.  Prompto’s a good friend, he’ll listen.  Noctis breathes in his familiar and warm scent one more time...and takes the plunge.

“My dad is dying, Prompto,” he mumbles quietly, giving sound to the thought that has most been plaguing his mind ever since his father started needing to use his cane.  “It’s the Wall.  It keeps us safe, and it’s killing him,” he manages, before he falters.  Putting it into words almost has Noctis panicking again, but he hears Prompto gasp a little bit before wrapping his arms around him tighter, pulling him even closer.

“I’m so sorry,” he says.  “No wonder you’ve been so sad.”

And that’s all.  Nothing about how Noctis will need to be stronger to fill his father’s shoes, nothing about how he isn’t fit to be a king, nothing about how he can’t be upset, just acknowledging that it sucks.  Something breaks within Noctis, but he really, really doesn’t want to cry in front of Prompto.  It’s a strange mix of emotions.  He pushes away slightly, so Prompto doesn’t have to deal with it, and finds himself locking eyes with Prompto again, Prompto’s strong arms preventing him from getting too far.  And if he’s a good friend, he deserves to know the last bit of truth that Noctis has been keeping from him.  Maybe he can get out of all of this now, while he has a chance.

“I feel like I should tell you one more thing,” Noctis says, almost a whisper.

“Sure, Noct,” Prompto replies immediately.  “Lay it on me.”

“I don’t think you’ll like this one,” Noctis smiles slightly, in spite of it.  What a ridiculous mess of emotions he is right now.  “When...when Dad dies.  Probably soon,” he tries, waving his hands around erratically against the tide of emotion he feels--just one of many behaviors his father and the Citadel have tried to train out of him.  He takes a deep breath and continues, “someone will have to keep the Wall up.  That someone will have to be me--” he tries to explain, but his voice breaks on the last word, and he presses the palms of his hands to his eyes, as if that will stop the tears, but to no avail.  He did not want this to happen, Prompto is going to think he’s so weak, and a mess, and--

“It’s okay to be upset about it,” Prompto says, gently grabbing Noctis’ wrists to pull them away from his face.  Noctis peeks at his dear friend--his kind, wonderful, patient friend--and is met with the gentlest look he thinks he’s ever seen from anyone.  He thinks maybe Prompto is crying too, but then he’s completely overwhelmed because Prompto is gently brushing his tears away with his thumb.  

“It’s a lot to take in, but I’m glad you told me,” he soothes.  Noctis feels his face heating up, but he doesn’t push Prompto away at all.  He leans closer, craving more of that contact.  “It helps me to know everything,” he says with a soft smile.

“I’m sorry,” Noctis apologizes on instinct, before he gets too caught up, before he’s unable to pull away.  “Don’t mean to be a bummer,” he tries to joke, but Prompto isn’t having it.

“Hey, this is serious.  Your feelings are important to me,” he reminds, his tone only slightly harsh to show his seriousness. His tone then softens, “and you’re being very brave.���

“I don’t feel brave,” Noctis replies, before he can stop himself.  “I’m afraid.”

“Oh, Noct,” Prompto sighs, pulling him back into their earlier embrace, rubbing his back with one hand. “Being brave doesn’t mean you’re not afraid.  It means you’re afraid and you do it anyway.  My mom told me that a long time ago…” he trails off somewhat wistfully.

His mom? Noctis thinks to himself.  He almost wants to ask more, but he knows Prompto’s parents are a very sore subject, and he leaves it for another day.  For now, he soaks in the comfort, trying not to feel embarrassed at the tears that flow now and then.

Noctis isn’t sure how long it is before he stops crying, but he feels his back and legs start to ache from the strange, huddled position he’s found himself in, and he pushes back sheepishly.

“Sorry about all that,” he apologizes.  “Probably not what you signed up for…”

“What I “signed up for” was to be your friend,” Prompto responds, stern, but not unkind, as he stretches out his own arms.  “That means good stuff and bad, you know.”

Does it?  Noctis has always felt that he has had to live up to the image of the ideal prince, even with Ignis and Gladio.  But Prompto...well, Prompto just saw him at his lowest, and the look in his eyes tells Noctis there’s no place he’d rather be.  That look makes his heart jump in his throat, slightly, yet another thing he’s been trying to ignore.

“I...thank you,” Noct mumbles, waving his hands around again, this time because he’s overwhelmed that Prompto still wants to be his friend.  Prompto, for his part, smiles knowingly at the motion.  That’s another conversation they’ll have to have, Noct supposes, but he’s all drained right now.

Sensing this, Prompto hoists himself off the couch.  

“Well, I brought over this junk food for a reason.  Why don’t we get more comfortable and order a pizza?” he asks, gesturing to the fact that Noct is still in his school uniform.  “We don’t have to think about any of this for a little while, if you don’t want to.  Play video games, just vibe...”

Noct smiles.  How does Prompto know exactly what he needs?

“That sounds awesome, dude.”

[3laxx]

Bring It Home - Chapter 4

Gus, Edric, and her had opted for the skis, hoping that having their legs separated would give them some sort of stability. But that had been a mistake, too. She supposed Edric was buried somewhere in the snow as well.

Whot? Whott????? Three chapters?!??!?! Noooo!!!!!!

Yes >:) This one is light-hearted, too! It's pure fluff and fun, I promise. The squad needed that, hng. But yes, this is purely fun. I hope you enjoy it!

Ao3 / FF.net

---

Grumbling, Amity lifted her face from the snow.

She hadn’t anticipated skiing to be so hard.

Eda had shown her how to do it and had weirdly enough, been a really good teacher after they had crafted the necessary gear. She supposed Eda had been skiing in the Human Realm already.

Huffing, she got back up and somehow managed to maneuver her heavy legs against the steep hill again. These weird boards on her feet were hard to handle and less fun than she had imagined after Eda’s descriptions. They were almost up to her chin and very flat and as narrow as her feet, and while she did have some sticks to hold herself up with, they could get really fast and very hard to steer before she would inevitably faceplant again.

She couldn’t imagine how Luz would’ve found any fun in that.

Luckily, she hadn’t gone for the board version, though, the one Emira and Willow were trying out. Their reasoning had been that one board should be easier to control than two, but that had apparently been a very bad mistake, as Amity watched her sister barreling down the slope farther down for the umpteenth time, only being stopped by Gus who was thinking fast and stopped her with a pile of snow he conjured.

Gus, Edric, and her had opted for the skis, hoping that having their legs separated would give them some sort of stability. But that had been a mistake, too. She supposed Edric was buried somewhere in the snow as well.

For some reason, Willow had managed fairly well, but she suspected her friend was somehow using her plant magic to cheat. Gus had immediately figured out these wretched things and had begun riding down the slope faster and faster every time. Amity was kind of jealous of him.

Edric and Emira had tagged along for the promised fun, but it had soon turned out to be a pretty precarious situation, with Edric unable to stay standing on his skis for more than 5 minutes while Emira got down the slope in three-sixties more often than on her board like she was supposed to.

Eda, meanwhile, had barely shown them the necessities before skiing down the slope by herself, looking graceful and fun and leaving the kids desiring some skill to at least enjoy this somewhat.

Picking herself up, Amity slowly tried making her way downhill again, keeping her skis in the braking position Eda had shown her, with her legs so wide she was already struggling exhaustedly after barely an hour of being on the slope.

Once again, the tips of her skis clicked on top of each other and she groaned when she felt herself getting faster again because her edges couldn’t dig into the snow properly anymore. Trying to pull them apart, she only pushed them further on top of each other, didn’t see the next hill of snow coming and with a big whoomph!, she felt her skis once again being ripped from under her body and face planted, her legs crossing when she whined in frustration.

“Oof, big crash. Are you okay, Amity?”, Willow’s voice sounded from behind her and when she somehow managed to turn around, she met her friend’s concerned gaze.

“Just-… Trying to figure these stupid things out. How’s it going with your, uh, snow plate?”, she asked, trying to make easy conversation while trying once again to unwrap her legs. She felt Willow shuffling closer, the board still attached to her feet, sitting in the snow before grabbing at Amity’s skis to untangle them, before helping her getting them against the slope again.

“It’s a snowboard, I think. And it’s going quite okay, I have to take care not to tumble like Emira but, I think I should be fine. I see your skis are giving you a hard time?”

Once again, Amity groaned in exasperation but gratefully smiled at Willow, shaking the snow out of her hair again. “Yeah, they’re kind of hard to handle. I don’t know how to keep the tips apart from each other and when I don’t, they just kind of cancel each other out, if that makes sense.”, she grimaced, but Willow suddenly lit up, apparently coming up with a solution.

“Oh, I had the same problem that when I wouldn’t tilt my board enough, it wouldn’t have enough grip. Maybe try to go lower with your knees and keep your skis tilted sharper? That should do it?”

Skeptically, Amity got up again and tried the position out. With keeping her body lower, she would need more strength to keep upright, but at least the tips of the boards wouldn’t get on top of each other anymore.

Drawing a turn around Willow, she ended up lower on the slope than her friend and smiled up to her.

“It works!”

Giving her a thumbs up, Willow got up again and well and Amity saw what she meant. By tilting her board sharper against the snow, she would get slower. Eager to try this out on her skis, Amity tried turning more into the slope again, and lo and behold, it worked.

Giggling, she pumped a fist, before holding out her arms for balance again, not noticing how Willow watched her while turning again and skiing along the slope once more.

A few rounds later, she was sure enough to try out keeping her skis parallel to themselves while only using the braking position for turning and it turned out to be so much easier.

This was actually getting fun if she was being honest. She could do this more often!

She wondered if Luz had tried out skiing already and if she had been able to have fun with this, too. Maybe she was even as good as Eda and Amity would never know.

Laughing to herself, she tried getting a bit faster before braking again and making a turn. But something in the corner of her eye made her look up and she saw a big snow cloud approaching her. It soon turned out to be Gus, who had finally lost control of his skis and barreling towards her.

He only managed to keep on his stomach for long enough to yell something to Amity.

“Stop me!”, he cried and Amity quickly turned to the slope to get out of his way, watching him slide past her with an indignant expression.

“Everyone for themselves!”, she yelled back as he continued sliding down the hill, his heavy skis now pulling him down while Amity giggled and watched the betrayal written across his face, before finally drawing a spell circle and stopping him against a gentle abomination hand. He stayed in the snow, though, still staring at her, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Did you seriously think I would risk my life and catch you?!”, she yelled back to him under tears and Gus finally let out a cry in disbelief, getting up. Amity burst out laughing at the snow that had slipped up into his jacket, all the way up to his collar to come out by his neck. He had to be soaked by now.

“Who wouldn’t have?!”, he shot back and Amity laughed harder at the snow sticking to every inch of his front, making him kind of look like a snow gremlin.

“Gus, I would’ve taken your skis to Titan knows where and we wouldn’t have stopped!”, she laughed and he aggressively patted down his jacket, a shiver going through him with all the snow still trapped underneath his jacket.

“You deserted me!! Betrayal! You traitor!”, he cried and Amity collapsed against the slope, holding her stomach laughing. He looked like a very angry fairy.

“Come on, Gus, we didn’t get hurt, that’s the important thing!”, she yelled back, prompting him to immediately take off his skis and start running towards her.

“I’m gonna hurt you!! Come here, you selfish traitor, you heartless monster of a woman!!”, he yelled and Amity squeaked in exhilaration before making a turn and skiing down the slope, winning in speed while looking back up to him while he struggled to put his skis back on and chase her.

Giggling madly, Amity started turning faster and ditching the braking position, instead drawing turns big enough to let her skis stay parallel. Laughing in delight, she looked back up again to see Gus speeding down the slope yelling obscenities, but the grin was spreading across his face as well.

Laughing and giggling, they chased each other down the hill, even accompanied by Willow at some point, who tried to keep up but decided not to get up to the neck-breaking speeds her friends were at.

Amity still giggled when she finally avoided Gus towards the end of the slope and turned once again, to watch him barreling past her and shaking his fist at her, before she followed him again, watching him slow down.

She made her way towards him, intending to turn before him, but suddenly, he made a turn and stopped in the middle of the slope.

“Guuuus!!!”, she shrieked, trying to curb herself before crashing into him, but he held his arms wide open and grinned at her while she couldn’t stop anymore. One of her legs went between his and when she crashed into him, he threw himself downhill, making them both tumble down the slope as they laughed and shrieked whenever the cold snow managed to sneak into their jackets, up their pants, or into their sleeves.

When they finally came to a stop, Gus was fortunate enough to be on top of her so he grabbed a handful of snow and smeared it into her face while she giggled and tried to push him off, but she was defenseless with how hard she was laughing.

“And some down your jacket, you traitor! You left me to die!!”

He shoved the snow down her collar and Amity laughed harder, before throwing him off and grabbing her own handful of snow, rubbing it in his face in turn.

“I didn’t leave you to die, I just didn’t want to fall, too!”

“And where did that get you?!”, he cried indignantly and Amity had to laugh again, letting off of him. They sat up, still laughing and brushing the snow off of themselves, before Willow finally caught up, sitting down next to them in a controlled and obviously meticulously practiced fashion. She had apparently worked on her technique while Gus and Amity had just aimed to race down the slope like mad.

“Are you guys okay?”, she asked, half concerned for their health because they were both sitting and seemed fine.

“She betrayed me!!”, Gus immediately picked up the conversation and Amity had to giggle, throwing some snow his way, which landed on his face but he was so focused on telling Willow how exactly Amity had deserted him, left him to soak and die, that he didn’t even notice it.

“Gus, you’re being overdramatic!”, Amity laughed again, shaking her head to Willow who just amusedly smirked, before looking up.

“Take care, there come the twins!”, she suddenly yelled, and out of reflex, Amity scooted away from the slope they had made, before looking up and seeing Edric frantically waving his arms to keep his balance before falling headfirst into a pile of snow after being tripped off by a smaller pile. Emira kept her control better this time, but she also seemed pretty exhausted and soaked, coming to a safe stop a few paces away from their group.

“I’m just about ready to go home.”, she announced and now that Amity could get a better look at her, she was shivering and had blue lips already. Nodding and smiling, she got up again.

“Eda should be coming down this way shortly, then we can go home.”

Farther up the slope, Edric stuck his head out of the pile of snow and grimaced.

“I don’t think I got this!”, he called and Amity laughed.

“Take off your skis and come down here, we’re ready to call it quits!”, she shouted back and he showed a thumb up before reaching back to take off his skis while using the relative stability of lying in a pile of snow to his advantage.

They only had to wait for a few moments, when Eda already came riding down the slope gracefully, making Amity deadpan. Just how often did she have to ride down these slopes to even be half as good as that witch?

She arrived with their little group a second later and propped herself up on her sticks, grinning widely. “You kids look like you need some hot apple blood.”, she announced and all the kids nodded energetically, grinning up to her, “Alright then, let’s get off the slopes. Did you all have some fun today?”

The mixed answers she received were enough to make her snort and laugh.

“That’s good enough for me! Let’s go take a break!”

“Our treat!”, the twins immediately announced and Eda let out a loud whoop, before pumping a fist.

“I get to be a freeloader for once!”

Taking a relieved sigh while unclipping her skis, Amity didn’t notice Willow also taking off the snowboard and getting up to stand next to her, nudging her shoulder.

“Thank you for letting us tag along for the bucket list, Amity. I had a lot of fun today.”

The young witch smiled at her friend before nodding and smiling.

“Me, too. Let’s do this more often!”, she giggled as Willow wrapped her into a one-armed hug, before shivering in memories, “Because this is a lot better than skydiving, honestly.”

Grimacing, Willow nudged her friend to guide her off the road.

“I don’t exactly know what skydiving is, but I can hardly imagine that Eda shoving you from her staff before catching you again is right.”

Frowning, Amity recalled the memory again. Eda had flown up way higher than any of her parents had ever flown and had shoved her off her staff, before catching her just by the treetops again.

“No, I think that’s pretty accurate to what humans do, at least Eda said so. Except that they have fabrics that carry them and make them fly and they land with them, too. But I doubt I would’ve wanted to try that out.”

Shivering, Willow shook her head.

“No, you’re right, being caught by Eda sounds better.”, her friend chuckled nonchalantly and Amity giggled along with her.

“All I know is that I don’t wanna try skydiving again. But skiing is fun. We should do that every now and then.”, she had said that last part louder so that the group could hear her and earned wide smiles and nods from everyone as they agreed.

---

Let me know if you liked it!

[astxlphe-fics]

let me live (let me die)

In which Noé wanders off and meets someone new. Meanwhile, Astolfo faces Jean Ténèbre

Chapter 4/?

< Chapter 3 || Chapter 5 >

Content warning : mentioned character death, violence

Of course, Noé wanders off — he wouldn’t be Noé Archiviste if he doesn't wander off. He’s curious and restless, and no matter how long he tries, he just can’t stand there and wait.

So, when he’s kicked out of the room, Noé starts wandering off.

This Antonio doesn’t seem willing to just give out the information they need, so maybe Noé can find it himself. In the past few years, he learned that sometimes, the best way to get information is to avoid asking, but sneak around and find out by yourself.

Better apologize later than ask for permission and being told “no”.

Murr in tow, he goes to explore.

He, somehow, manages to find the archives they passed a few minutes earlier. It’s quiet, and he takes the opportunity to look quickly through the shelves, hoping to find something on the vampire they are looking for.

There are records about him, but nothing recent enough. All he finds are reports upon reports, spanning decades , of a former Chevalier gone rogue with his brother, a thief and conman with a taste for blood, human and vampire alike, who was last seen 6 months ago near the coast, though the operation targeting him failed due to “outside intervention”.

“This is what Antonio referred to earlier, right?” he asks Murr, who sends him flat look, and Noé's eyebrows knit themselves together in worry. The file with the details is missing, along with several others, leaving several empty spots on the shelf, so he can’t be sure, but this is definitely something Astolfo would do.

“Anyone here?” someone calls out from deeper into the archives. Noé winces. He didn’t think anyone would be here, but now that someone is calling out to him, he realizes that archives should have an archivist.

He puts the files back where they belong and, accidentally knocking a chair down on the way, sneaks out of the room, turns at the nearest corner and finds himself into another.

This one seems to be the guardroom. It’s empty and, not for the first time, he wonders where all the chasseurs have gone. They are, though, several pieces of spare equipment in the closet, some which are small enough to fit in his pockets. He takes several, just in case.

He breathes in deeply. Everything is okay, he hasn’t been—

A yelp catches him by surprise.

— caught.

He turns on his heels, hands raised. “Wait, I—”

Another order given in Italian, which he is sure means “ don’t move”, or at least something along those lines.

He stares at the young woman in front of him, her skin a warm brown and dark hair shaved short, a file tucked under her elbow. She stares back at him, black eyes narrowed, then she swiftly slips something out of the sleeve of her white coat and points it at him, still speaking to him in Italian.

Something about not moving, again.

“I’m not an intruder— I mean, yes I am, but I came with Astolfo and I— uh — got lost?”

She narrows her eyes at him suspiciously, lowering the blade — a scalpel, Noé notices. “Astolfo? Astolfo Granatum?” When he nods, she lowers her makeshift weapon. She raises her free hand to about ear level, and changes language to French. “Are you sure?”

Is he sure he is with Astolfo? What kind of question is that? “He’s about this tall,” he says, hand raising up just a little under his shoulder. “With pink hair?”

“God, I can’t believe Astolfo is back.” She nods, tense, and her weapon disappears back in her sleeve. Then, she shakes her head from side to side. “Although I’m terribly sorry for the rudeness, if I had known...” She shakes her head again, pinching her lips. “In my defense, I’ve never seen you here before, and who would except him to bring a friend —”

“We’re not,” Noé corrects and when she glances at him with a raised eyebrow, he explains: “We’re not friends, I don’t even like him, we are simply travelling together for a while. He’s meeting with someone called Antonio.” He smiles at her, reassuring. “So, don’t worry about the rudeness, mademoiselle. I wasn’t very polite myself, intruding into your headquarters with no warning. I’m sorry.”

“He’s meeting with Antonio?” she repeats, all offense forgotten, her lips pulling down into a concerned frown. “This can’t go well. They haven’t been getting along, lately.”

“It wasn’t going well when I was kicked out.” Noé sighs. “He told me they were friends, but it doesn’t look like it.”

“They used to be close, but not anymore, not since—” She grimaces, and her shoulders slump. “Astolfo has changed a lot since he went to Paris, in good and bad, and when he came back a few months ago—” She trails off, and goes quiet.

“What happened when he came back?” Noé asks. The woman doesn’t seem willing to elaborate, and she looks at him again with renewed suspicions.

“Why do you want to know?”

“We’re working together.” It doesn’t sound like enough of an explanation. “He’s looking for the Chevalier Ténèbre, and I want to help.”

Hearing those words, she makes a face. “Oh no. I—” She grabs the files she keeps under her elbow. “Since they’ll be moving out against him soon, I’ve been studying those to prepare for the next round of injuries. I’m Isabella, by the way, I’m the doctor here.” She draws out her hand, and Noé shakes it, hesitant. As if she senses his unease, she goes on: “Don’t worry, I'm a regular doctor, I don't do experiments.” Her eyes take on a determined gleam. “I think you will understand better if I show you.”

Taking the file as she hands it out to him, he flips it open. It’s a report, stamped with a bright red “archives copy”, and the medical report attached has Astolfo’s name on it – a word is scratched out with black marker where his first name should be, an “Astolfo” written by hand in a big, looping handwriting just above it. It’s probably the files missing from the archives’ shelves, and Noé can’t believe his luck.

It’s curiosity that pushes him to look through it. Another page confirms his suspicions with heavy injuries and near death and descriptions of bloody wounds and torn flesh and an infection.

“That idiot ,” he mutters, the worry quickly shifting to frustration, and Isabella hums in agreement.

“He really is. It didn’t look pretty. I’m— I’m the one who took care of him, it took days before he was well enough to get out of bed and he left before I discharged him.” She glares hard at the words printed on the papers. “I hadn’t seen him in at least six years. Can you imagine? Your friend leaves for over six years, doesn’t even send a letter, and then – when they brought him in, I thought he was dead ." Her voice breaks slightly on the last word. "I had never seen Antonio look so scared, either.”

Of course, Astolfo didn’t tell him. He has no obligation to do so, Noé knows, but he can’t help but feel the slightest resentment and frustration at the memories of Astolfo’s claims of being able to handle himself when there is definite proof that he can’t .

But no, he’s Astolfo Granatum and doesn’t need anyone for anything. He is just going to keep walking straight to his death until he actually dies.

“Antonio?” he asks. “I didn’t think he would be so worried for Astolfo.”

“Are you kidding me?” She snorts. “Don’t let his attitude make you think Antonio doesn’t care; he seems to believe that the harsher he is, the further away from here and the Chevalier Astolfo will stay. It doesn't work, obviously." No, it doesn't look like it does, it just seems to make Astolfo more persistent. "Additionally, he has just been so angry since Marco died.” She pauses, looking at him quizzically. “Have you heard about Marco?”

“I’ve met him a few times.” He didn’t know him well, but he seemed kind, at least kind enough to somewhat temperate the explosive Astolfo.

She frowns. “Wait, how long have you known Astolfo?” Her question about Marco, Noé figures, lets her appraise how close he is to Astolfo, but his answer isn't what she expected, so she must have assumed they met in the past six months. Noé admitting to knowing Marco though, gives her a different time scale and more questions about their potential relationship.

“Three years.” When her eyebrows raise in disbelief, he elaborates, running a hand through his hair and smiling sheepishly. “We hated each other at first. We still don’t get along, but I think we’re past the attempted murders and limb cutting phase.” He wiggles the fingers of his left hand, and the joints click and clack with the movement.

“The what now?” she groans. “I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but it’s always strange to hear about what he got up to in France.”

A door slams shut in the distance, cutting him off before he can answer, and he skims through the rest of the file, trying to find anything useful on the Chevalier before he regroups with Astolfo.

“You said they were going to move out again soon?” he asks, trying to get them back on track.

Isabella nods. “Uhm — yes— it’s supposed to be tonight. In a few hours. Hopefully, Antonio will get Astolfo out of the city before it starts.” She looks up to Noé with severe eyes. “You two need to leave.”

She’s the second person who isn’t so happy to see Astolfo back, but it’s the gravity of her tone that makes it click. “He is in Florence, isn’t he?”

The Chevalier Ténèbre has last been seen in this very city. In Florence. All the chasseurs on duty are patrolling the area before he makes more victims here, which explains the headquarters’ persistent silence.

He is way closer than they thought.

Noé needs to find Astolfo, and fast.

He grabs both of Isabella’s hands in his own. “I’m very sorry, but I need to go now. Thank you so much for your help!”

“You’re going to help him, right?” He nods, so she continues: “He won’t listen to us, but maybe you will: I know he says he’ll be okay, but he can’t fight the Chevalier on his own.” She looks straight at him with gravity. “He will die.”

“He won’t. Not on my watch. I promise!”

And she bites her lower lips, unsure. “I hope you’re right. Do you need help finding your way back to Antonio’s office?”

Noé stops right at the door, hesitant, and Isabella laughs. “Come on, I’ll guide you.”

“Thank you!” He turns to Murr. “Let’s go.”

The cat looks up at him in exasperation.

“Sorry,” Noé tells him with an apologetic smile, though he can feel the worry building up inside him. “But we need to find Astolfo, before he runs into the Chevalier Ténèbre on his own.”

Knowing Astolfo, he could very well stumble upon him by accident.

“It won’t go well if he faces him alone.”

This seems to decide Murr, who sniffs disdainfully and starts walking.

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

Without Louisette, or more generally speaking, a spear, and the enhancement drug the chasseurs usually have, Astolfo can’t fight as well as he used too. He’s always been smaller than the average boy, both in terms of height and weight. He made up of for it, back then, by choosing a long-range weapon and relying on speed, dexterity and high mobility. With it, he could make his size an advantage, even though it also allowed his enemies to throw him around with more ease if they grabbed him.

The spear allowed him to hit his target while staying away. Now, all he has is his own natural speed and a short weapon which requires him to get in his enemy’s arm reach.

The dagger rips through the Chevalier’s clothes and nicks at his skin, but the vampire grabs him by the collar, pulling him off his feet, and throws him away. His back hits a wall with a thud and, as he falls, he sees stars, the pain spreading through his body in short waves.

He pushes himself back on his feet and picks his weapon. He grins, the rush of the fight coming back to him, warming him up. His focus is solely on Jean Ténèbre, and the humans running away, the chasseurs he is sure are on their way, Noé Archiviste’s departure — all of this is nothing but background noise. None of it matters .

Jean Ténèbre here stands in front of him and this time, nothing will stop Astolfo from taking his life.

Adjusting his grip on his weapon, he lunges, intentionally leaving his side open. The Chevalier takes the bait and Astolfo dodges, slipping under his arm and aiming his ribs. The vampire stumbles when Astolfo’s blade lodges itself right between two of them and he swings his arm, elbow hitting the side of his head.

Astolfo manages to roll away, once again out of range. He breathes hard already, but he can’t stop smiling, face flushed, his weapon bloodied.

“I failed to end you once,” he tells him, laughter bubbling at the back of his throat. “I will not fail again tonight.”

He remembers that night very clearly — every detail of it etched in his mind forever. The night this vampire and his companions slaughtered his family and laughed.

Just as Astolfo prepares to attack again, something catches on his leg, making him tumble down on his knee. He pulls, hard, but his foot is rooted on ground, something dark swirling around his ankle. He tries to pull it off, but it’s immaterial.

“You don’t learn, do you?” The Chevalier’s eyes seem to glower in the darkness, pupils shifting to strange, eerie spirals.

He cannot touch it and no matter how much he tries; it paralyses his ankle. He stands again, trying to force his leg to move, to wrench it off the ground, but it only spreads, keeping him from bending his knee until he’s immobilized all the way up his waist.

Around the Chevalier, shadows twirl and swell, growing more solid, more textured under his power.

All vampires have the ability to alter the very nature of this world, the formula. Some of them learn how to control this power, and some of them specialize. The Chevalier Ténèbre, staying true to his name, decided on darkness .

It wraps around him, taking a hold of his arm, squeezing his wrist until it cuts the skin and makes him drop his weapon. The dagger clatters uselessly on the ground.

“You come to me, in the middle of the night, when I am at my strongest, and you can barely put up a decent fight.” He sighs, sounding disappointed, standing just in front of him. He pats his cheek with a barely there smile that Astolfo wants to rip off his face with his bare hands. “To think my beloved brother lost to that. ”

The touch would make Astolfo shiver if he could move at all and he grits his teeth. He hasn’t changed at all. He is still, without the chasseurs, a weak and helpless child.

Once again, he realizes, Antonio was right. He keeps overestimating himself, trying to make himself believe that he’s still strong enough to take the Chevalier like he took his brother years ago.

Move , he tells himself as the Chevalier’s shadow creep up. Move , as he tries to push it aside. If he doesn't, Astolfo will be hacked to pieces by disgustingly solid shadows, and he can’t even move . Like six months ago, and like when he was eleven and pinned down by those same shadows as fangs dug into his skin.

The thought is what finally kicks him into action.

Astolfo snaps his head, catching, between his teeth, the fragile skin between the Chevalier’s thumb and index finger, and bites down. His teeth sink in. Blood pours out, staining his lips and chin.

The Chevalier yelps, his focus shifts, and his control snaps. Astolfo pushes him back, throwing his balance off. He dives to the ground to grab his weapon and drives it down into the vampire’s foot, before putting distance between them.

His chest rises and falls with his heartbeat, fast and uneven, and he wipes his face with his sleeve, spitting out the blood on the ground.

Then, snarling, the Chevalier comes for him again, faster, and Astolfo won’t have time to move out of the way — but before anything can happen something grabs him around the waist, pulling him off his feet and out of the way.

“Are you alright?”

And he finds himself carried like a sack of potatoes over Noé Archiviste’s shoulder as he turns several street corners, until they lose sight of the Chevalier.

“What—”

“I learned the Chevalier Ténèbre was here so I came looking for you. But you found him without my help, it seems.”

“I—” Astolfo lets out a strangled sound of surprise, before he truly realizes what position he is in and kicks his feet in the air. “Let me down!”

“Oh, right.” He puts him back on his feet. “There.”

Now back on the ground, Astolfo regains his bearings and huffs. “What took you so long?” he demands as if he hasn’t been scared out of his mind, in a difficult position just a minute ago. “Did you wander off again?”

“What do you mean, again ?” the Archiviste protests. “I even brought something that could be useful.”

He rummages through his pockets and takes out several pouches, which Astolfo easily recognizes. “Are those chasseurs belt pouches?”

“I found them in the guardroom in the headquarters. I figured you could find some use for it, since you don’t have access to those anymore.” He looks back over his shoulder, making sure the Chevalier Ténèbre isn’t catching up yet. “You can’t fight him on your own, Astolfo. At least not without some extra weapons.”

The "you’re a regular human now" hangs between them, unsaid.

“Look—”

“Mademoiselle Isabella showed me what he did to you last time.”

There is something in his tone and in his eyes looking too much like a mixture of fear and worry that make Astolfo want to give up arguing.

It's not like he’s up for an argument anyway. He’s tired, from the last year’s search, from his previous encounters with the Chevalier, from the argument with Antonio, and from the fight, so he just takes the pouches without a word. He doesn’t ask how he even knows Isa, and opens them. They all contain Aegis flash grenades, brand new and polished, warm under his fingers.

All in all, they have four of those.

“This is what you disappeared for?”

“Well, it wasn’t what I was looking for but—” He rubs the back of his head. “Sometimes you take what you have on hands.” He points at the cat still sitting across his shoulders. “Murr helped too.”

“I—” he gulps. “I was under the impression you—”

I thought you left for good .

“You thought what?” the vampire asks, confused.

“Nothing.” He looks away, face pink in embarrassment, recalling his rather childish outburst.

“Are you sure?”

He nods, and focuses back on the equipment Noé brought back. He picks one of the grenades, weighting it in his palm. “This will be useful. The Chevalier Ténèbre can control shadows,” he explains.

“We will be able to counter it with those, then.”

Astolfo blinks, taken aback. He always imagined himself facing the Chevalier alone, fighting alone until who or whatever is in front of him kills him. “We?”

"Yes, we." Noé takes off his coat and hat, which he neatly places on a windowsill, before he sets Murr next to them. His sharp fangs glint in the moonlight as he grins, flexing his fingers, and Astolfo is suddenly reminded that, under his sweet exterior, the vampire is as much as a fighter as any chasseur. “I’m your shield now. You can count on me.”