#oh man he buys a set of tuning forks

[tommyhardyx]

Mr Solomons - Chapter Five

** Updated Version **

Pairing: Modern!Alfie Solomons Word Count: 4.4K Summary: It's finally time for your date with Alfie. Warnings: smut, swearing Note: And here we go it's time for the first date! I hope you enjoy and please let me know if you do!

Ever since you agreed to the date with Alfie you’ve struggled to keep the man out of your mind.

The days leading up to Saturday begin to drag, work becomes boring and repetitive as you spend your days researching an upcoming article, and you find yourself constantly checking the clock hoping it’s getting closer and closer to the weekend so you can finally put all your focus into Alfie.

At coffee, with friends, you tune out unintentionally, your mind always going back to him. You had spoken to him a couple of more times since he asked you out, trying to coax the meaning behind why you need a leather jacket to go out to dinner with him but he never breaks, never gives you anything more to go on than ‘just trust me, you’ll need it’.

When Saturday finally rolls around, the mixture of excitement and anxiety for the night ahead wakes you earlier than intended and after a morning spent pacing around the house with nothing better to do than think about what might come from tonight Nancy finally has enough, dragging you out to your favourite coffee shop to take your mind off Alfie, refusing to address any mention of him and for the first time since you said yes you find yourself distracted, Alfie banished from your mind finally.

By the time you get home it’s late enough to start getting ready, Nancy blasts loud music to get you in a good mood while she helps you decide on your outfit for the night, helping with your makeup and hair, keeping you smiling and laughing until it’s only a few minutes to 7. She gives you one last tight hug before sending you out the door, a smile of luck and an encouragement not to come home tonight.

Waiting on the pavement outside your building, butterflies flying up a storm in your stomach, a smile pushes its way onto your face as the reason for Alfie’s confusing text asking you to wear a leather jacket finally makes sense.

He pulls up to the curb right in front of you, the motorbike he sits on loud enough to drown out your thoughts of worry as he turns off the engine and pulls off his helmet grinning at you, his eyebrows lifting as he looks over you.

“You look incredible,” he says, taking a moment to look over your body. “You ever ridden one of these?”

You shake your head as he offers a second helmet to you, his smile a comfort as you reach out a hesitant hand to take the helmet.

“All you gotta do, yeah, is hold on tight.”

Slipping the helmet over your hair, praying it won’t mess it up too much after all the time you and Nancy spent on it, you ease yourself onto the bike behind Alfie, your arms immediately slipping around his waist as you push your body against his back.

“Good to go?” he asks, and you nod. He must notice your anxiety, his hand moving to squeeze one of your own gently “Don’t worry love, I won’t let you get hurt yeah?”

Nodding slightly you rest your head against his back and say quietly. “I trust you.”

Your hands grip each other as Alfie revs the engine, your stomach doing a little flip as he pulls out onto the road and you swear you hear him chuckle when your arms tighten around his body.

It’s surprisingly easy to distract yourself from your fear as you focus on the feel of Alfie’s body beneath your arms, feeling his muscled torso this close to you has you thinking less about the possibility of crashing and more about what he might look like without his shirt off.

You’re so distracted by your thoughts that you don’t realise at first that you’ve slowed to a stop, and that Alfie has cut the engine until he speaks.

“So, how was that?”

It takes a minute for the question to sink in, and you’re sure he knows what has got you so distracted by the smirk on his face. He swings himself off the bike, waiting for you to take your helmet off to hold a hand out to you.

“Not as bad as I thought,” you admit, taking his offered hand as he helps you off the bike. “Still terrifying though.”

“Told ya I wouldn’t let you get hurt,” he says with a wink.

You smile up at him, enjoying the feeling of his large hand holding yours so much that you squeeze it tight when he tries to pull away, his smile mirroring yours at the motion.

“Right, well we’re in here,” he explains, pointing to a Jewish restaurant in front of you. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all! You’ll have to tell me what’s good though, I haven’t eaten much Jewish food before,” you admit.

He nods, holding the door open for you. “I can do that.”

The inside of the restaurant is small, cozy even, setting you at ease as a waiter guides you to your table and Alfie holds your chair out for you.

Both of you hang your leather jackets over the back of your chairs, Alfie’s outfit underneath finally showing itself properly. The crisp white shirt, combined with the black slacks and vest is a good look for him. He has the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, giving you a glimpse at some of the tattoos that litter his skin.

Alfie helps as you read through the menu, pointing out some of his favourite dishes always with little anecdotes of his mother making them for him when he was young, his love for her clear every time he speaks about her.

As your food is placed in front of you, you give him a look.

“I’m putting my trust in you, if I don’t like this it’s your fault,” you tease and he gives you one of his wide grins.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to make it up to ya if you don’t,” he promises with a wink.

“I’m holding you to that,” you tell him, pointing your fork at him before taking your first bite.

The food is delicious, the slight moan you let out on purpose causing a smirk to spread onto Alfie’s face and you’re sure you notice his tongue flick across his lips.

“Alright then?”

“It’s incredible,” you mutter, digging into the dish once again and enjoying the way Alfie smiles at you as you eat.

The conversation flows as the meal goes on, your nerves disappear the more he asks about your life and your family,

As dinner comes to an end and the two of you make your way back outside to his bike you realise you don’t want the night to end quite yet, though to come out and just say you’d like to go back to his place might sound a little desperate. He hands your helmet to you, the question on his lips as he intently looks you over, looking for any sign you might want to get out of this now.

“Do you want to come back to my place for a bit? I’m sure Cyril would like to see you again,” he says, the offer of his dog making the offer sound a little less like all he wants is to get you into bed.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you almost whisper, slipping the helmet back on.

When you reach Alfie’s building, you have to make an effort not to allow your jaw to hang open. The massive brick building looks to be an old factory that has been converted into flats, and approaching the large brown metal door, you wait a step behind Alfie as he types in the code for the door.

“This is where you live?” you ask, and Alife smirks as he opens the door for you.

“It is,” he says, following you inside and guiding you through the foyer to wait by the elevator with a hand resting on your lower back.

Built into the exposed brick wall beside the elevator is a bench lined with red velvet and you sink into it while looking around the room, glad to get off your feet for a moment.

“This place is incredible,” you tell him, looking around in an attempt to take everything in.

Alfie watches you, one hand in his pocket while he twists one of his rings around his finger.

“Used to be a piano factory in the 1800s, then a photography space, and now apartments. I was one of the first to buy ‘ere. It’s close to the distillery and big enough for Cyril not to feel cramped,” he explains.

The elevator door opens, and he holds out a hand that you happily take as he helps you off the bench and into the elevator, your feet still burning from your shoes.

“Oh well Cyril is of course the most important,” you say, grinning at the man.

Inside the apartment you can’t help but look around in wonder, the place is huge with a gorgeous open kitchen and massive curved sofa facing a wall of bookshelves with a large TV in the middle. Just like the foyer the apartment is filled with exposed brick walls, and metal, all to great effect.

You’re so preoccupied with the apartment you almost miss the thumping sound of heavy paws on the wooden floors.

“Hello Cyril,” you say as the dog comes running over, his tail wagging madly behind him and Alfie holds onto the dog’s collar to keep him from tackling you to the ground. You reach to scratch behind the dog’s ears, smiling at the way he leans into your touch.

“Think he missed ya,” Alfie says, squatting down to the dog’s level.

Watching Alfie with Cyril never fails to make you smile, the man’s face lighting up at the mere sight of his dog, his chuckle making your stomach flip in the best possible way as he scratches under the dog’s chin.

“How’re you doin’ mate?”

You make your way to a wall of framed photos, there’s one of a woman you assume is Alfie’s mother holding a young boy which could be no one but Alfie himself in her arms, another more recent photo of Alfie and Ollie outside the distillery, and another of Alfie with his arm around a girl that must be his sister.

“Is this Hannah?” you ask as Alfie comes to stand by your side.

“Hm? Yeah, that’s her, made me take that photo with her,” he admits, running a hand over his beard.

“What’s she like?”

“She’s brilliant. Fucking smart, don’t know where she got that from, she’s an engineer. She’s also a pain in my arse, but I love her,” he explains, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“I’d love to meet her someday,” you say as you turn to the photo of him and Ollie. “When was this taken?”

“Day we opened the distillery. Fuck, I was terrified that day, had no fucking clue if we would fail or succeed. Ollie kept me from panicking. Yeah, he kept me calm. He’s good at that,” he explains.

He rubs a hand over the back of his head, a move that almost seems like nerves as he keeps his gaze on the photo in front of him.

“He encouraged me to ask you out, so if this goes well expect him to never fucking shut up about it,” he mutters, making you laugh.

The two of you make your way to the couch, the conversation flowing long enough that Cyril gets bored with the lack of attention and goes off to occupy himself some other way and you find yourself moving closer to Alfie, his arm resting along the top of the couch just beside your head.

As the two of you continue to talk, your eyes move from his face down his toned body and you begin to wonder just what he looks like underneath those clothes.

Alfie’s hand settles on your hip, his face mere inches from your own so close you can feel his warm breath on your skin. His eyes search your face, moving from your eyes down to your lips and your heart pounds with anticipation as you wait for him to make his move.

“Are you going to kiss me or stare at me all night?” you whisper.

He grins, his free hand reaching to cup your cheek as he finally presses his plump lips against your own. Your hands move slowly up his chest, fingers grasping the material of his shirt.

“Finally,” you whisper, mouth breaking into a grin as he rests his forehead against yours.

Alfie matches your grin, his hands settling firmly on your hips as he lifts you with ease, settling you onto his lap as his lips find yours again his tongue slipping into your mouth tangling with your own.

Your hands move up his muscular arms, the feeling of them beneath your fingers making you groan into his mouth.

“Let’s move to the bedroom yeah?” he asks, voice gruff as his lips press along your jaw.

“Yes,” is your breathless response, your fingers tangling in his hair as he stands, your legs wrapping around his waist.

His hands find your backside, squeezing the skin as he carries you to his bedroom, kicking the door closed before Cyril can find you and follow you in.

Alfie sets you down on your feet and you immediately reach for the buttons on his vest, desperate to see the body you’d felt beneath his clothes on his bike. You manage to get the vest off, pushing it down his arms and immediately do the same to his shirt, grinning at the sight of his muscular, tattoo-covered chest.

“See something you like?”

“I do indeed,” you tell him, reaching up to kiss his lips as your hands find the buckle on his belt, easily getting it open before unbuttoning his trousers and shoving them down his hips.

“Right, your turn then,” he says.

His hands are rough as he pulls off your clothes, the outfit you’d painstakingly picked out for tonight mixing with his own discarded on the floor.

Alfie groans at the sight of you in just your black lace underwear, and when you reach to hook your fingers in the waistband his hand is quick to cover your own.

“Leave ‘em on,” he mutters, his lips finding yours once again as he pulls your body against his.

His hands roam over your back, moving down to your lace covered backside, fingers digging into the skin as he lifts you up and carries you over to the bed, dropping you onto your knees.

Alfie watches, hungry expression on his face as you lie back against the mattress, your legs opening to give him a view that makes his cock twitch, but he ignores it as he climbs onto the bed, hands reaching for your legs as he pulls you closer to him.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathes, hooking your legs onto his shoulders.

His lips press a trail of kisses down the inside of your thighs, his beard brushing softly against your skin as his fingers brush along the lace of your panties, hooking a finger along the strip of material hiding your slit from view.

A gasp leaves your lips as his tongue first runs along your slit, flicking against your clit. He clearly knows what he’s doing, he’s well practised and you both know it so you let your head fall back and enjoy it, his tongue feeling incredible against the most sensitive part of you.

Your grip in his hair tightens as you feel your orgasm impending, his tongue working you faster as you move your hips rubbing yourself against his face.

The moan that escapes your lips as your orgasm crashes over you is louder than any you’ve let out during sex, and your fingers grasp his hair tighter as you come down from your high.

“Fuck,” you mumble, head tipped back as Alfie pulls away, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand watching you with a grin your grasp on his hair finally relaxing.

“Alright, there love?”

You groan, looking down at him and rolling your eyes at the smug grin on his face as he takes hold of the black lace between his teeth and slowly pulls them down your legs.

Discarding them, Alfie kisses his way up your body and once he’s close enough, you take his face in your hands, pulling him closer so you can kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips as his hands find your waist.

“You have condoms?” you whisper against his lips.

“In the drawer,” he mutters, pulling away to reach over to fish a condom out of the drawer. He stiffens as you reach down to grasp his already hard cock in your hand swearing as you begin to slowly stroke him.

Alfie settles onto his knees, fumbling with the condom while trying to get it open as you continue you stroke him grinning at how distracted he is with just one hand on his cock.

“Need some help?” you ask, earning a glare from him as he finally tears open the packet.

“Got it,” he mutters, swatting your hand away so he can roll the condom on himself, stroking his cock a few times as you lie back against the pillows, smiling up at him as he watches you, mesmerised by your body.

He lines himself up with you, rubbing himself along your slit as you reach for him, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pull him down closer to you.

“Fuck,” Alfie groans at the same time you let out a gasp as he finally slides into you, his thickness filling you up. He pauses for a minute, his lips finding your own once again and your nails dig into his back as he starts to thrust.

He feels perfect inside of you, much better than previous lovers. The way he holds you as he thrusts into you, his lips kissing every inch of your skin he can reach, your nails scratch paths down his back as you wrap your legs around his waist.

You try to match his pace, moving your hips back into him as he trusts, but soon enough he takes over, and you do nothing but lie there and let him, the feeling of him making your fingers grip him as tight as you can, your toes curl, and your lips unable to say anything other than his name.

His thumb finds your clit, rubbing the sensitive ball of nerves as you find yourself getting closer to the edge again.

Your lips collide with his as you both find your climax, your tongues tangling together as you moan into his mouth. He continues to thrust until you’re both spent, finally pulling out as he pulls his lips away from yours.

Alfie rests his forehead on your chest as he catches his breath, his hands holding your waist as you run your fingers through his hair, feeling guilty for how hard you pulled on it earlier.

Soon enough he sits up, pressing his lips to yours.

“I’ll be back in just a minute,” he says, his lips brushing yours.

He gets up and you watch his bare arse as he makes his way into the en suite.

Left alone with your thoughts, you sigh as you sink back into the pillows, slipping beneath the blankets as the cool air makes a shiver run through your naked body. This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go, you never do this on the first date, never go this far so quickly. But somehow, with Alfie, it doesn’t feel wrong. It feels right.

Alfie makes his way back into the room and climbs into bed beside you, those big arms reaching towards you to hold you tight against his body and tucking your head in under his chin.

“So you’re a cuddler are you?” you tease, settling into his chest.

“You can’t tell me this ain’t fucking nice,” he says, lips pressing against the top of your head.

It is nice, so nice that you don’t want to leave. But this is only the first date, you never intended to have sex on the first date and now you’re on the verge of already spending the night with him when all you intended for tonight was to have dinner.

You can already imagine the look on Nancy’s face if you come home tomorrow morning, still wearing the outfit you’d worn tonight. The idea of that smug look alone is enough for you to shift so you can kiss him softly.

“I should go,” you whisper against his lips.

“Stay the night,” he mutters, his arms tightening around you as you attempt to pull away. “I’ll cook ya breakfast in the morning.”

“Oh well that changes things,” you tease.

“Just stay.” Alfie’s eyes are drifting shut, his face softening as he holds you a little tighter and while you’re telling yourself to take this slow, that you really should leave and give yourself time to process the night’s events, everything about him is telling you to stay.

Gently you press a kiss to his chest, your hand gently rubbing his side as you settle in against him. His fingers brush softly along your arm and a tired smile stretches across your face.

“Alright, I’ll stay.”

The first thing you notice the following morning is Alfie’s arms still wrapped around you.

It takes you a minute to work out what’s going on, where you are and why arms are holding you against a solid chest, but soon enough the night before comes back to you. Alfie’s promise of breakfast and his tired voice asking you to stay the night brings a smile to your face as you glance up at him.

“Good morning.”

He’s awake but just, his eyes half open, a deep frown on his face as he reaches to rub his eyes with one hand.

“Mornin’,” he mutters, voice deep from sleep.

You press a kiss to his chest, earning a grumble from him as he throws his arm over his eyes to block out the light breaking through the gaps around the edges of the blinds.

“Not a morning person?” you ask, fingers curling in his beard.

“Didn’t I fucking warn you ‘bout that?”

“Nope. It’s cute though,” you tell him, laughing when he grunts in response.

You sit up, pulling out of his grip and glance around the room looking for wherever your clothes ended up last night.

“Third drawer, grab a shirt if you want,” he mutters, pointing to the chest of drawers on the other side of the room.

“Thanks,” you say, leaning in to kiss his cheek before sliding out of the bed.

As you approach the drawers, you hear the sound of scratching on the bedroom door followed by a loud whine. Cyril.

“Fucking hell,” Alfie mutters.

“Where do you keep the dog food? I’ll feed him,” you offer, slipping a grey t-shirt over your head and your underwear back up your legs.

“It’s in the kitchen. Can make yourself a cup of coffee while you’re out there if you want.”

“You want one?”

“I’ll get it when I’m awake,” he mutters, turning over to bury his face in the pillow. When he speaks again, his voice is muffled. “Don’t go making any fucking breakfast, told ya I’d do it.”

Opening the bedroom door, you manage to slip out without letting Cyril in to disturb Alfie and lead the large dog out into the kitchen. You fill up both his food and water dishes before making a cup of coffee, sinking into the couch with it and smiling when Cyril comes to join you, his head resting on your lap.

The morning is quiet, peaceful, as you sip your coffee and gently brush your fingers through the dog’s fur.

Soon enough Alfie emerges from the bedroom, dressed in a matching shirt, his hair a mess atop his head.

“You awake now?” you ask, watching as he makes his way over to you, his frown hidden partially behind a pair of glasses you’ve never seen him wearing before.

“Partially,” he says, stopping to pat Cyril’s head.

“I didn’t know you wear glasses,” you point out, smiling as he leans in to press a kiss to your head.

“I wear contacts when I go out. Too fucking tired this early in the morning to put ‘em in,” he explains, swiping your cup of coffee from your hand and taking a sip.

He twists his face up in disgust, handing the mug back to you as you laugh.

“Fucking sugar. How do you drink it so sweet?”

“It’s because I’m so sweet,” you joke, earning another kiss to the top of your head.

“That’s true. Now, breakfast,” he says, clapping his hands together startling Cyril who quickly lifts his head to see what the noise was. “Relax mate, only me. Pancakes sound good?”

“Sounds perfect. Do you want help?”

“Nope. You keep that pretty arse of yours right there, yeah?”

You grin up at him, angling your chin just right before speaking. “Okay, now come give me a kiss.”

He happily obliges you, leaning down to press his soft lips to yours before heading off towards the kitchen. You watch over the back of the couch as he cooks, looking content as he cooks and you decide to join him.

“Thought I told you to stay over there,” he says as you pull yourself up onto the benchtop.

“I wanted to be a little closer to you,” you tell him.

Alfie grins as he comes to stand between your legs, your hands finding his hips as you bring his face down to yours.

“If they burn them cause you’re fucking distracting me you’re eating the burnt ones,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Worth it.”

He chuckles against you, his chest rumbling with laughter as he presses a kiss to your forehead. With ease he pulls himself from your grip, so he can flip the pancake in the pan.

“Too bad you put your shirt back on, should have left it off,” you comment, grinning at the glare he shoots at you.

“You think so aye?”

You nod, grin widening as he sighs and strips off his shirt, playfully throwing it at you.

“Much better.”

Watching Alfie, his hair a mess, bleary eyes hidden behind his glasses, mouth stretched open in a yawn as he cooks you breakfast, you find yourself yearning for more of this in the future.

Tags: @tommymcartney @misselsbells06 @lauren-raines-x @innerpaperexpertcloud @lizyshores

Next Chapter

[mizunetzu]

I just skipped school and binge read all of your fanfics- They’re really good gRRRRrrr 🥺🥺 Keep up the good work!! That being said- Can I request a fluffy Hawks x male reader where the reader has a cold and is stuck in bed and Hawks takes care of him? Thank you vv much!!!

HAHHAHA WHY IS ALL MY HAWKS REQUESTS ALWAYS FLUFF (I mean ur like my second one but it’s still flufF) (and not that this wasn’t fun to write cuz it was HAAHA I’m lowkey proud)

(Also gRRRRur so nice but GO TO SCHOOL >:( BARK BARKK BAEKR)

——————

Hawks x reader - The Sick Fic

⚠️warnings - it’s as the title says. It’s the sick fic.

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

(Y/n) coughed up sticky red blood.

“Y-yeah, no. I don’t think I can patrol today, Yusha-san. The villain from yesterday activated their quirk on me-and I’m feeling a bit sick.”

Yusha, the secretary to the (L/n) hero agency, typed something down on his computer. “Is it something we should be concerned about?”

“No.” (Y/n) croaked out with a chuckle. “Their quirk isn’t really dangerous, but it did make me a bit sick. It’ll pass, don’t worry.”

“Ok. I’ll send in one of your sidekicks to patrol with Hawks-san today.” More typing from across the phone. (Y/n) pursed his lips.

“U-uh,”

“Don’t worry. I’m sending a male sidekick.” Yusha practically read his mind. (Y/n) didn’t want any stupid girls hitting on his stupid, popular, pro-hero patrol buddy boyfriend.

“Thank you, Yusha-san.”

“It’s nothing. Get some rest, (H/n). We expect you to show up tomorrow.” Yusha ended up before (Y/n) could even say goodbye. He lazily dropped his phone onto his bedside table, burying himself under his bedsheets as best as he could. Just as he was getting comfy, the urge to cough up more blood kicked him in the stomach.

He flung himself over his bed, practically shoving his head into the small waste bin under his bedside table. He wiped his mouth with his forearm after hacking up more blood, his head suddenly feeling hazy and jumbled.

He groaned, and got under the bedsheets once more. The world seemed to be against him today, as another distraction forced him out from his beauty sleep.

His phone buzzed once. Twice. Then the annoying, overlapping ring of multiple messages being spammed buzzed out his phone, making (Y/n) cover his ears with his pillow.

Annoyed, he patted around the side table til’ his hand landed on his phone, pulling it towards him and under the sheets.

‘Keigo 🍗 - where r u :(‘

‘Keigo 🍗 - who’s this...rando dude patrolling wit me :(((‘

‘Keigo 🍗 - r u asleep or smth’

‘Keigo 🍗 - wake up ur late to patrol and I need my yakitori addiction funded today’

‘Keigo 🍗 - DUDE’

‘Keigo 🍗 - BBBBBBBBBB’

‘Keigo 🍗 - IM NOT GONNA STOP SPAMMING U TILL U ANSWER ME OR SHOW UP AN PATROL WITH ME >:(((‘

(Y/n) sighed. He opened the messages, meaning that Keigo would get the ‘message read’ notification, but he couldn’t care less. Tossing the phone lazily on the table, he muted the messages app.

———

(Y/n) stirred in his sleep when he heard tapping on his bedroom window. (Y/n) opened his sticky eyes, barely open enough to see a blurry red object tapping against the glass frame. Eventually, the object halted, gave up, and swooped down and out of sight. He shrugged.

Just as he closed his eyes, more pelting came from the window, this time louder and heavier. (Y/n) snapped his eyes open, flinging himself out of bed, and getting ready to activate his quirk.

He visibly relaxed when he saw the huge red wings tapping outside the window, with a certain hero crouching down, looking at him sheepishly and trying to pick open the window lock. The man waved with an embarrassed smile, his feathers following suit.

“Keigo Takami. What the fuck are you doing in my house.”

The man, Keigo Takami, chuckled awkwardly while (y/n) undid the clasps on his window. He stepped back, allowing him to worm his way in through the small window.

Keigo paused, half way squeezed in with his wings stuck in the cramped window frame. He was stuck. “Y...you need to buy a bigger window-“

“Are you dumb?” (Y/n) chuckled, the sight of Pro Hero Hawks, man who could pull absolute pussy, bent over his bedroom window, stuck with his wings awkwardly fluttering in place. “Just, I don’t know, send your feathers off until they’re small enough to fit you in.”

Keigo had a wave of realization. This man had no braincells whatsoever. “...oh, haha, you’re so smart~”

One by one, feathers jutted out from his back, each floating either inside (Y/n’s) room or outside the window. Once all of them were off, and his back were relatively empty, he tumbled ever-so-gracefully inside the room. He stood up, his wings rebuilding themselves in seconds, and did an awful curtsy.

“Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all day to take care of my sick patrol partner who do happens to be my boyfriend,”

“Speaking of patrol -what happened to patrol? A-and the dude you should be patrolling with? You should be out by n-“

A sharp, piercing pain shot through (Y/n’s) head. Now that the adrenaline from Hawks pounding on his window was subsiding, he seemed to remember how much his head was hurting.

He fumbled down, catching himself on the foot of his bed while Keigo lurched forward. “You good?” He mumbled, taking off his black wool glove.

He rested the back of his palm on (Y/n’s) forehead, before signing uncontently and replacing his hand with his lips. Even if he was burning up, (Y/n) froze.

After a while, Keigo drew his head back. “You’re burning up...”

Silence. Hawks awkwardly chuckled and played it off by running his hand through his hair.

“Lips are more sensitive than hands are-so I was just...you need to get to bed!” Keigo quickly stood up, gently ushering the sick hero to his bed. Pulling up the thick-set covers, Keigo hazily tosses his jacket to the corner and discarded his other glove.

“Try and get some rest. Did that dude’s quirk from yesterday do this?” He got a nod in response. “Alright. I’m gonna go change and get you some shit.”

With that and a warm smile, Keigo disappeared through the bedroom door. (Y/n) followed him with his eyes, right before he was out of sight, then let his eyes droop close.

———

“Pssst.”

A finger poked at (Y/n’s) cheek. He grumbled, furrowing his brows and keeping his eyes screwed shut. He heard a sigh from somewhere above him.

Something feathery tickled him from underneath his nose. He scrunched his nose up, expecting the odd feeling to go away, before feeling a sneeze build up. The watery feeling course through his nose before his head shot up every-so-slightly to let out a weak “Achoo!”

Keigo snickered. (Y/n) finally opened his eyes. Keigo was sitting beside him, now in casual clothes, holding a convince store bag and a red feather. The feather flew out of his hand and stuck itself on his back.

“Sorry I was out for so long. You didn’t have jack shit in your house, so I bought some medicine and takeout since I know you won’t eat soup and I can’t cook.”

It was true. The only thing Pro Hero Hawks is allowed to do is heat up a hotdog, and even then he might break the microwave. And (Y/n) won’t eat soup he made if his life depended on it. If he can’t even turn on the stove, what makes you think that he’d drink a whole bowl of soup made by him and not die?

“Whad’ja get?” (Y/n’s) voice came out more gravely and deep than he expected. Under different circumstances, that would’ve been kinda hot. Keigo pulled out things one by one from the bag.

“Ok so, I got painkillers, a cooling pack, a heating pad just in case your stomach starts hurting, a thermometer, and I found these cool matching red bird keychains and I bought them on impulse. One for you and one for me~ I also bought 2 beef bowls”

Keigo layed all the items down either on the bed or on the table beside it, holding up the keychains last. Shaking them around a bit, turns out there was a small bell inside both of them. (Y/n) tried, and failed, to hide his growing smile.

Keigo placed the cooling pack on (Y/n’s) previously burning forehead. The sudden coldness forced an involuntary groan from the bed sick male. He chuckled.

“Sorry. Deal with that for awhile and I’ll feed you~” Hawks saddled up in the spot next to him, holding the two plastic bowls and worming his way underneath the covers. He placed the food down on his lap and switched on the tv.

They sat in silence, the only thing being the sounds of the tv filling the room with the occasional reaction or snicker from the two. Keigo alternated between shoveling a forkful of rice and beef into his mouth, then feeding his boyfriend and carefully making sure none spilled onto his bed. The news reporter droned on onscreen, their voice being tuned out by the two hero’s.

“By the way, Keigo,” (Y/n) started, once he swallowed his food. Keigo gave a hum of acknowledgment, holding up a finger to (y/n), then to his mouth until he finished chewing. Thickly swallowing, Keigo hummed again.

“You were supposed to patrol today. With one of my sidekicks. What happened to that?”

Keigo looked at (Y/n), before looking back at the tv so causally. For a while he said nothing, until he opened his mouth.

“I ditched.”

(Y/n) made a sputtering noise. His shock turned into a long string of hacks and coughs, which Keigo waited ever-so-patiently for him to calm down from. “You ditched?! Keigo, you’re the no. 2 hero! You can’t be caught ditching!”

“Relaaaaax,” Keigo leaned farther into the bed cushions. “I told my agency and your stupid sidekick man that I was gonna check on you. It was a valid excuse.”

“Still!” (Y/n) rubbed at his temples. Hawks shoveled another forkful of food into his mouth. “You’re sitting here watching tv with me instead of working!”

“I needed a break. Plus,” Keigo held up his unfinished bowl of food defensively.

“I can’t believe you.”

“I love you too~”

(Y/n) sighed.

“I hope you get sick.” Hawks chuckled, saying something about being immune to all sicknesses.

Needless to say, (y/n) was patrolling with one of Keigos sidekicks the next day.

——————

[monster-bait]

Holt the Witch’s Familiar; M Cat Familiar x F Human, NSFW Monster Match

Monster Match for @moonlightreetops​: What I usually look for in a partner is someone that is the equivalent to bedrock personality wise. I need stability and understanding in some sort of way to make me feel secure in a relationship...I collect macabre trinkets and spend most of my time doing little creative projects. I watch scifi flix, anime and play DND so big geek vibes here

I was *determined* to give him the name of an actual, historical familiar, and I didn’t name him Vinegar Tom, so YOU’RE WELCOME. Also, I left a TON of Holt on the cutting room floor, so there will likely be a sequel to this down the road!

The doll had a particularly creepy face.

“Miss Claudette is from the mid-eighteen hundreds,” the female auctioneer read, “once belonging to a privileged little girl of the era, she is a magnificent model of the expectations of a typical Victorian lady.”

You bit your lip in anticipation as hands reached into the frame, turning the doll on her pedestal to show off the detailing on the dress; the creepy, painted bisque face forgotten. 

You had no idea who he was—he never spoke, never stepped into the frame, never did anything other than manipulate the items at the behest of the sultry voiced woman in charge, but you’d be lying if you pretended he wasn’t the reason you kept tuning in week after week to their oddity auction, his lovely hands and the banter afterwards. 

Long and white and sculpted, veins and tendons standing out in relief, his hands were their own work of art, like a living sculpture. The endlessly long fingers were tipped in equally lengthy nails, painted matte black and ending in lethal-looking points, you supposed calling them claws would likely be more accurate.

You wondered, not for the first time, if he were a werewolf, or some similar creature. 

He wouldn’t have the nails all the time, you reminded yourself, thinking of what Kenzie had said. The chipper werewolf had been in your gaming group for several months, a welcome addition, for geeky clubs tended to be overrun with guys, and you’d become friendly with her almost immediately, bonding over a shared love of anime and crafting. You’d casually wondered aloud if werecreatures retained elements of their bestial side, like sharp claws, perhaps, but the freckle-faced young woman had quashed your supposition.

“Nope,” she’d announced cheerfully, seating herself at the gaming table. “Unless it’s like, the day of the change, maybe.”

You had no idea who or what he was, but conversing with him after the auction each week had become a bright spot in your weekend calendar. 

It had started when you discovered the wonderful, weird world of oddities auctions run weekly on Instagram. You’d always had a penchant for the macabre and had amassed a nice little collection over the years, but now small businesses were hurting and you could enjoy oddity shopping from the comfort of your phone. You’d heard of the Cat & Crow but had never made the drive to the neighboring city to visit the shop in person, and were excited to see what they had to offer.

“Welcome everyone to the Cat & Crow, thanks for joining us today.” 

The woman before the camera wore the uniform of every other social media witch you followed—trendy, artfully tattered black clothes, her raven-colored hair done up in a crown of braids and dreadlocks; her eyeliner expertly winged, tattoos that appeared to be tree branches reaching across her clavicle, with half a dozen rings on each hand.

“Winners, Holt will be contacting you directly at the auction’s end, please be ready with your method of payment. We’ve got a lot of unique items to get through today, so let's get started!”

It wasn’t until the third week you’d tuned in that you’d chatted with the mysterious Holt. You’d been outbid on several of the items you liked, but managed to snag two others, including a victorian poison ring, and he’d recognized your screen name.

Hello again! What were you the big winner of this week? Lot 23 and 47...the onyx and gold poison ring and the pocket-sized surgical tool set. Hmm! Big weekend plans?

You’d laughed aloud at your laptop, cheeks coloring despite the fact you were alone. Nothing nefarious as all that, I swear! Although my table game group had better stay on their toes tonight…

Oh fun! I used to belong to one of those before I moved. So what are you guys playing right now?

After that week, he asked after your game group at the end of every auction. You told him of the hours-long game of Catan, the entire month of Call of Cthulhu, the bickering session that had broken out over a game of Azule.

That sounds great actually. I need to start doing fun things again, since we’ve started the auctions I feel like I’m working 24/7.

You bit your lip now, thinking of his words from the previous week. 

After the creepy doll had been some Templar altar piece, a hand of glory with only one candle remaining, and a terrifying victorian wind-up toy, and the only thing to which you’d paid attention was his hands and his sharp claws, shifting things around as the witchy-looking woman spoke. 

You’d realized your shopping habit had become more expensive than you’d initially counted on, and that for the last several weeks you were truly only bidding on items as a way to talk to him after the auction’s close. Just ask him. You don’t need to buy anything today, you don’t even like the stuff! Just take a deep breath and do it. Deciding the voice in your head was right, you did as it advised, sucking in a breath and leaning over your keyboard before you changed your mind.

Hi! Not a winner this week, nothing really caught my eye. You swallowed hard, pushing on. I wanted to invite you to join our group sometime! We meet every Saturday at the Melted Meeple, so tonight, lol! You grimaced at yourself, but persevered. We’re just playing CAH right now, but there’s talk of a D&D campaign starting up. The more the merrier!

You waited a minute, then two, before pushing yourself up from the desk. If he didn’t respond, it wasn’t a big deal, you told yourself. He was working, after all, and you really did need to get ready to go meet your friends that evening. Hair fluffed, clothes changed, the handful of dishes you’d left in the sink washed and put away...you went back to your laptop just before you needed to get going, holding your breath as you looked at the screen.

That sounds great! I have to finish things up here, but hopefully I won’t be too late. This will be fun, I feel like we’re old friends at this point!

You told yourself the bounce in your step as you left was simply because it was a nice evening, that you were happy to spend time with your friends and nothing more. That’s it. Just another normal night.

.

.

“So what are you going to do?” you asked him for the dozenth time that evening, before biting into a crust of melty cheese, your eyes rolling back in bliss. The Melted Meeple specialized in gaming and grilled cheese, and they excelled at both.

Holt shrugged, spearing a sweet potato fry. He was a finicky eater, carefully cutting things with a knife and fork, scrutinizing the menu every week as though it were the first time he’d seen it, before ordering the exact same thing. He took his time with things and could not be rushed—spearing his fries one at a time, swirling the straw in his drink until the ice had all but melted into the alcohol—and as a result, the two of you spent more time tucked away at your own little table than you did playing the group’s game, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You were smitten.

You’d been a nervous wreck that first night, raising your head anxiously every time the Meeple’s great doors were pulled open, but you did your best to hide it from your friends. You were used to being the steady one, after all, the one who gave advice and provided a ready shoulder for the whole group...you didn’t begrudge your friends their drama and woes, but it made it hard when you had your own anxieties and nowhere to turn.

Kenzie had dropped into the seat next to you, had been going on about the latest disaster with her boyfriend when her head had snapped up, nose wrinkled.

“Ugh, cat. It’s too close to the moon to deal with smelling that.”

You hadn’t noticed the door pulling open, and weren’t entirely sure how he’d managed to do it silently, but a man who’d not been standing before the entrance a moment earlier had stood there then, his citron-green cat eyes scanning the room hesitantly. You’d known it was him instantly.

Thick raven-colored hair and bone-white skin, slim black jeans and a black leather jacket atop a blood red shirt, he was a fitting counterpart to the witch who ran the oddity auction. One of his thick, arched black brows had cocked hopefully when they landed on you staring at him, and you raised a hesitant hand in greeting, smiling when his lips split, revealing a row of blinding white teeth. You took note of the long, hooked incisors in his smile.

“Is he a werecat?” you’d hissed to Kenzie as he made his way across the huge room.

She’d sniffed the air, wrinkling her nose again. “No. Just...just a cat. I don’t get it. I’m going to grab a drink before the next game starts, you want anything?”

He was a familiar, you’d learned. A witch’s familiar, a sleek black cat when he wasn’t the handsome, slightly goth-looking man sitting across from you. His witch, the auctioneer, Arabeth the mistress of Crows—“Bethany,” he’d corrected flatly, rolling his eyes—was his business partner and co-owner of the Cat & Crow, a naturally gifted witch with no direction or commitment to the craft, according to him.

“Let me tell you, working in retail was not a career ambition for me,” he’d laughed that first night, as the two of you sat at your own small table away from the group, sharing a basket of fries before joining the game. “But the shop is successful and it keeps me busy, since she’s all but abandoned her path.” 

By the end of the night, your stomach had been a riot of butterflies. He was stable and confident, a sharp departure from the majority of your friend group, you’d realized. Stable and confident, and ridiculously good looking. You’d thought he was of a middling height when you’d been seated, but he towered over you, engulfing you in a hug at the evening’s end.

“This was a lot of fun, thanks for inviting me!”

“Every Saturday,” you replied breathlessly, trying to restrain yourself from burying your face against his solid chest. You didn’t know what Kenzie was talking about, he didn’t smell like a cat at all—he smelled like black musk and pine, making you think of a dark forest on an autumn night, masculine and sexual…“I hope you’ll join us again!”

“If you’ll be here, I definitely will,” he’d said, giving you another one of those sharp-edged smiles, his eyes glowing on the dark street.

That had been over a month ago, and you were head-over heels in your crush. 

He’d joined you every Saturday, and it had become your custom to eat together, away from the group before joining in whatever game was starting. When both Kenzie and another friend had flaked on going furniture shopping with you, he’d taken their place, doing the heavy lifting, putting together a bookcase, and paying for dinner afterwards, despite your insistence to the contrary. It was a revelation, having someone there to hear your problems, and you were happy to do the same, whenever he came in grumbling about his deteriorating relationship with his witch.

When your gaming group began planning its Dungeons and Dragons campaign at last, you discovered Holt had never played and wasn’t familiar with any of the rules.

“First we have to decide your character,” you explained, pushing a character sheet across the table. “Race, attributions, what you’d like your strengths to be…”

“Tell me again why I can’t be a bard who’s also a sorcerer.”

“You can cast spells as a bard! We’ve been through this!”

“I want to be sneaky and magical and have everyone love me.”

You’d come to the Cat & Crow once, popping in unannounced, and had seen him in his cat form. Sleek and sinuous, jet black with bright green eyes, the black cat had rubbed up against your ankles as you’d stood there, after being greeted by the friendly-seeming witch, mewling determinedly before darting off into the back room. Holt had come breezing out a moment later, announcing to Bethany that you were going out for sushi and would be back in an hour.

“So basically you just want to play yourself,” you laughed, receiving a not-at-all angelic smile in return.

It was the first grownup relationship you’d ever had, you’d realized with a start that evening. You loved your friends and wouldn’t change a thing about them, but it was nice not playing therapist, having a solid give-and-take of support. Your first real adult relationship, and it’s completely one sided. Brava.

Still, you thought, when he slinked through the Melted Meeple’s doors that night, dropping into a chair gracefully and announcing he was officially a free agent familiar, you were glad for the opportunity to listen, knowing he’d be just as present and solid for you.

He shrugged at your repeated question. “Go to the agency on Monday, file for a new witch, I guess.”

“Does...does that mean you’ll have to move? What if they pair you with a witch on the other side of the world? What about the shop?”

His laugh was a dark curl, full of mirth. “Nothing archaic like that. This is where I live, the shop is my day job. We’re still business partners, but she’s quitting the craft entirely and I don’t have that luxury. The magic world is ninety percent bureaucracy and paperwork, it’ll probably be at least a year before they even get to my file.”

“Oh, that’s-that’s good,” you sighed in relief, not wanting to contemplate what would happen if he had to move away. “Good! You’ll have more free time now!”

Holt’s smile was wide, the light overhead winking off his fangs as leaned across the table. “And I know just who I’m going to spend it with,” he purred, before catching your lips with his own.

.

.

You hadn’t really known what to expect from the home of a familiar—a part of you was expecting some gothic lair with dripping candles and some ancient book of dark spellwork on a pedestal—but a completely average garden-level apartment on a tight lane of historic brownstones had not been it. The neighborhood was trendy: full of crowded little bistros with packed, street-side patios and bars boasting craft cocktails on swirling chalk signs outside their doors. You didn’t mind an occasional foray into adventure, but you couldn’t imagine living somewhere so noisy and bustling.

“Here we are,” Holt announced, tugging your hand and carefully leading you down the short stairwell in front of the dark-bricked building. “The neighborhood is great, but I love my little dungeon.”

You understood his meaning the moment the door closed behind you. The apartment was small but tidy, with plush-looking furniture and towering bookshelves, each crammed with curios, macabre trinkets and gimcrack. The street-level windows did little to illuminate the space, giving it a dim, cloistered feeling, amplified by the red-shaded lamps on either side of the sofa. 

Long-fingered hands encircled your waist, claws dragging lightly over your stomach, sending a shiver up your spine and reminding you remembered why you were here. You were terribly aware of your own heartbeat when warm lips pressed to the back of your neck, hot breath and the glance of fangs moving over your delicate skin, and your head tilted on its own accord, giving him better access. 

“It looks like a bordello in this place,” you mused, laughing when you felt his outraged gasp against your shoulder.

“Slander!” he exclaimed, the press of his hot tongue making your back arch, “calumny and lies. I demand restitution.” 

It had been two weeks since he’d kissed you over your grilled cheese sandwich, two weeks of making out like teenagers and groping each other on the street corner every Saturday, two weeks of thinking about him every night, waking heated and flushed in your bed with an ache between your thighs and slick coating your fingers, and tonight you’d decided enough was enough. 

He was steady and confident and reliable, but you’d noticed that he deferred to you in almost every matter. If you asked his opinion, he gave it; if you told him he was in charge of the evening’s plans, he already had one, but he let you control the direction of things rather than steamrolling you, and you wondered if it was something he was compelled to do as a familiar. You’ve got to be the one who makes the first move, you realized. Then he’ll take over and you can stop panicking.

“I think,” you murmured into his ear that night, as you sat on the edge of the gaming table, waiting to join in on the next round, “you should show me your apartment tonight, and we can work on your rolls.” The D&D campaign had started, and two sessions in the entire campaign had been entirely waylaid by a troublesome tiefling character who refused to follow the group’s initiative, and Holt had been smug that he’d not been the new player to cause problems.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, green eyes flashing, “we can do other things while we’re there.”

The apartment was dark, but somehow you were led to the bedroom without tripping over anything, the bedding beneath you cool and thick as Holt pressed you to your back. His eyes were glowing green orbs, rapidly growing closer until your lips were captured by his own, the kiss breaking off abruptly when he leaned over your body to turn on the bedside lamp.

“What do I need to roll for seduction?” 

The bed rocked as he reached back from where he straddled your body, pulling off your sandals and sending them sailing across the room. “I’m serious!” he insisted when you laughed again. “This is a serious game, remember? I don’t want to be the one who gets the whole party kicked out of a tavern.”

“Well, if you’re serious,” you began, breath hitching as your top was pushed up your body, claws dragging over the newly-exposed skin, “then you should know you can’t actually roll seduction, it’s not a skill.” 

“Oh, I beg to differ.”

You couldn't find fault in his words as your bra was deftly unhooked and pulled away, the heat of his mouth closing over the tip of your breast before you had a chance to be chilled. The tips of his clawed hand continued to move in soft patterns over your side as his tongue worked, teasing your nipple before sucking, biting ever-so-gently before releasing it with a wet pop. 

“Are you sure I can’t roll seduction? I am a magical bard, after all.”

“Nope,” you corrected on a gasp. His mouth had moved to your other breast, giving it the same treatment until both nipples were pebbled and aching. “Seduction isn’t a skill. You can roll for deception, if you have ulterior motives.”

“Absolutely not. There you go again with the slander. What about...persuasion? Can I roll persuasion as a means of seduction?”

You unbuttoned the dark shirt he wore as he spoke, pushing apart the fabric to reveal the long, lithe shape of him above you. Broad shouldered but slender, Holt possessed none of the bulk the werewolf you’d gone out with a few times last year had. Tightly muscled and well-defined, your own clawless fingers moved down his chest, following the trail of dark hair down the hard plane of his stomach until you reached the thick bulge at the front of his jeans. The noise that emitted from his throat as you stroked the hard shape of him was very nearly a purr, and you smiled hugely, deciding to let him do his best.

“Sure, why not,” you smiled, pulling open his belt. “But I might want a perception check. Gotta check out your staff of persuasion first, make sure its on the up and up.”

You let out an undignified squeak when your skirt and knickers were pulled down as he rose, shucking his jeans before climbing over your body slowly, and you were clearly able to picture him as the giant, stalking cat you knew he occasionally was. 

The soft drag of his claws over your thighs made you gasp, legs falling open, and the knuckle that pressed into your folds found you slick and eager. 

“I’m glad you invited me to join the group,” he purred against your lips, sharp teeth catching them gently in a kiss. “Even if I don’t know any of the rules.” 

The hard press of his erection was a molten heat against your hip and you shuddered out a breath, wanting to take him in hand but enjoying the press of his body against yours too much to force him to move. “I-I am too.”

Between your legs, his hand was buried against your sex. His sharp claws were tucked back, a finger on either side of your clit, knuckles kneading into the sensitive flesh until your hips were bucking upward to meet his hand, kneading and rolling, over and over until you were seeing stars. Pressure built behind your navel with every roll over the exposed bud of flesh, and you keened.

“I’m still having fun,” Holt went on, mouth stretching into a wide Cheshire cat-like smile, “and isn’t that the point of a game?”

The band of pressure snapped and you arched against him as throb after throb of pleasure pulsed through you. Your thighs tightened around his wrist, trapping his hand in place, and he hummed in amusement, fingers still moving as you gasped and shook, his lips pressing to yours lightly when you trembled with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“I’d like to seduce you, please,” he purred, waggling his dark eyebrows. “I’m being as persuasive as possible.”

His cock was still hot when you wrapped a hand around it, giving his shaft a firm pump, dragging upwards until your fingers reached his swollen head. “You really are a big cat,” you observed when the repeated motion drew a vibrating rumble from his chest, before edging closer to the foot of the bed. His smart-assed reply was lost to another rumble when you licked a broad stripe over his exposed head, laving your tongue over the bead of moisture there. 

There were several rings of nodules at the base of his head, you realized, mimicking the sharp barbs he might possess in his cat form, and you wondered how they would feel inside of you. The sharp points of his nails dragged through your hair as you sucked him into your mouth, swirling your tongue before lowering your head down his shaft, bobbing your head several times before his clawed hands were tugging you upwards.

You were reminded of his speed on the day the black cat in the shop had gone darting off to the back room in a blink of an eye when he flipped you, you cheek pressed to the mattress as he kissed up your spine, raising your hips. You felt the leaking tip of his cockhead press to your slick folds, sliding up and down before finally pushing into you, hilting himself in one thrust.

You hadn’t intended on finding a relationship, only some fun new additions to your curio shelf, you thought as has pumped into you, those textured nodules dragging deliciously over your inner walls. Claws dragged over your skin as you clenched around him, unable to stop the moan which broke from your mouth. You hadn’t been looking for a relationship, but one had found you anyway.

When his hand found its way back between your thighs, you were lost. Already gasping with every thrust of his textured cock, as soon as the rough pads of his fingers began circling your clit, you felt your tentative control slip, your core clenching and spasming around him before you were filled with heat, his rumbling purr vibrating against you as he came.

The comforter was thick and soft when he pulled it over you, once he’d withdrawn and quickly cleaned you up. Thick and soft and incredibly warm, snuggled against his chest. 

“I have a confession to make.” You craned your neck up to find Holt peering down, one of his thick, dark brows cocked curiously. “You can’t actually play persuasion or deception against another player’s character. Everyone has their own freewill and agency, it doesn’t matter how silver-tongued the party’s bard is.”

“Do you mean to tell me I wasted a perfectly good persuasion play?”

“It was unnecessary but not without merit!” you yelped as he flipped you to your back, giving you his best glower as he straddled your hips. “You’ve convinced me!”

“Oh, just you wait. I am going to cast so many spells on you once once we finally get out of the bloody tavern.”

The bed, you realized, had begun to levitate, and now hung suspended in the air as you squealed. He really was a magical, sneaky bard.

“You can’t do that either,” you laughed after the bed dropped, shaking the walls. “No spells on teammates.”

“There are too many rules to this game,” he griped, pressing his cheek to your breast. You wrapped your arms around him, pushing your fingers through his thick hair. Give and take. Solid for each other.

“You have plenty of time to learn.”

His purr vibrated against you before he wriggled free from your arms to fix the blanket, pulling you against him as he resettled. “It’s a good thing I have an excellent teacher.”

[waveypedia]

and now, for my next number, i’d like to return to the classics

Rymin Week Day 7: Domestic

1 2 4 5 6

Ao3

~

It’s been years since he lived primarily in his van on tour, but Ryan will never not be grateful to always have a kitchen.

Early morning sunlight streams through the soft white curtains as he goes through the motions of breakfast. The curtains were a gift from one sister, the cookware a gift from their old manager before she got promoted. The sleek fridge, which Ryan opens next, was a careful purchase he and Min worked together to carefully pick out, as is the same for most of their furniture. The eggs he pulls out from inside it are from their local farmer’s market, where all the vendors know them by name. Not because they used to be semi-famous rock stars, but because they come by every week toting instruments to serenade the shoppers with.

Ryan coats the pan in nonstick cooking spray and cracks the eggs into it. Salts it. He puts the ingredients away while he’s waiting for it to cook and pours two glasses of water.

Then, all that’s left is the waiting.

Ryan finds one of his guitars leaning against the wall in the next room. Their apartment is chock-full of all kinds of musical instruments they’ve accumulated over the years. After all the fuss Ryan had to go through to get his first guitar as a teenager, it feels both strange and gratifying to see how far he’s come.

One instrument they do not have is a viola. Min has played it on his own, usually on lease from friends, but he won’t play it regularly enough to buy one. Ryan is more than happy with that.

Ryan sits down on top of the counter and plucks a few, soft notes on his chosen guitar. He doesn’t have any particular melody or song in mind; he just lets his fingers play what they wish.

In no time at all, the eggs finish cooking. Ryan regretfully sets down the guitar to flip them and slide them onto plates. Just as he’s turning off the stove, the sound of a door opening down the hall and resounding footsteps reaches his ears.

Ryan snorts.

His husband emerges into the kitchen, hair still messy from bed. Even after all these years, Ryan’s heart flutters at the sight of him.

Min leans down to steal a kiss off the top of Ryan’s head. “Ooh, eggs. Are those for me?”

Ryan swings the plate away, nearly spilling the coveted breakfast. “Of course not. I cook for myself. Never for my handsome husband.”

“Hmm, too bad.” Min grabs a fork and leans in for a bite. “Hey, these are good!”

Ryan laughs and leans against Min’s chest. “Almost as good as your ability to come running as soon as there’s food ready. I swear, Min, it’s superhuman.”

“Only if it’s your food,” Min promises, struggling not to laugh.

Ryan cackles. “Of course. I see how it is”

Min kisses him again and steps away. “I’ll get the table set if you plate the eggs and get some fruit, dear.”

“I can do better than that!” Ryan dishes out the eggs on two plates and cuts some oranges up. He walks over to the toaster and drops two pieces of toast in. “A full breakfast. How about that?”

Min laughs and pulls a tub of butter out of the fridge. “Lovely, thank you.” He peers at the plates. “Eggs and toast. How downright American of you. Would you like some bacon with that?”

 “Hey, at least it’s not post-war,” Ryan quips back. He stretches his arms over his head and sets the plates down on the table. “Eh, that would take too much time.” He leans over to peck Min’s cheek. “After all, I would hate to miss breakfast with my lovely husband.”

Min beams. “Good choice.” His wedding ring twinkles in the early morning sunlight.

Ryan sighs dreamily. “Man, am I glad I married you.”

“Me too.” Min’s smile is fond and so full of love it makes Ryan’s heart swell. When he smiles, all his wrinkles soften and curve upwards like little smiles themselves. Ryan loves to kiss each one.

“So.” Min straightens out and pulls out his phone. “We have a practice session at 4 today, booked at the venue for Saturday’s performance.”

“Okay, good.” Ryan nods. “I want to run through the new arrangement Train to Nowhere.”

Min shakes his head, chuckling. “We’ve been playing that song for forty years, Ryan. Shouldn’t you know it inside and out?”

“I just want to tweak some things for this arrangement,” Ryan shoots back, not unkindly.

“Ryan.” Min reaches across the table to lay his hand on top of Ryan’s. Their wedding rings make a soft clink sound when Min’s hits his. “It’s going to be fine. The fans love that song, as do we. We know it well.”

  I know, I know.” Ryan squeezes Min’s hand and glances away. His eyes catch on a vase of beautiful purple flowers. I need to water those today, he notes offhandedly. “That’s why I want it to be as good as it can be.”

“It will be,” Min promises.

Ryan smiles. “I believe you.”

Min laughs, reaching across with his other hand to squeeze Ryan’s cheek gently. Ryan laughs, batting his hand away. “Of course you do. You should listen to your husband more often, Ryan.”

“What are you talking about? I always listen to you,” Ryan snorts.

Min waggles his finger. “Ah-ah, that sheet music you bought last week would beg to differ,” he says. “I told you we already had it in a songbook somewhere.”

Ryan crosses his arms, faux-affronted. “Excuse me for wanting more music to play!”     

“I don’t care about that. Just spend our money on music we don’t already have,” Min says, leaning back in his chair with a smile.

Ryan shrugs and lets out a small huff of laughter. “I can do that.”

“Good.” Min gets up to clear their plates. “I’m going to go grocery shopping and then call my parents. Do you need anything?”

“No, but I’ll pop on that call if you don’t mind,” Ryan replies, standing up. “And can you grab some cheese? And the-“

“Those crackers you like, the ones that come in the blue box, I know, I know,” Min says, laughing and shaking his head affectionately. “It’s on the list.”

Ryan walks over and wraps an arm around his husband. “Ah, you know me so well. Thanks, babe.”

Min shrugs him off, laughing. “Stop calling me that! It’s not classy!”

“Pfft, okay.” Ryan kisses Min on the cheek before releasing him. “See you in a few hours?”

“You know it.” Min waves and kisses him goodbye before he’s out the door.

Ryan hums softly to himself as he cleans up the kitchen. It starts out as a B-side from one of Chicken Choice Judy’s earlier albums - their third, if memory serves correctly. Four years after they’d escaped the train, when their career was steadily taking off and they started touring outside of North America.

Ryan shook his head, chuckling softly to himself as he wiped a dish clean. “Man, what a time.”

As he works, the tune slowly shifts into something more original and unique. Something new. When he notices the change, he immediately scrambles for a pen and paper. Luckily, there’s a large notebook of blank sheet music in the drawer under the microwave for this exact reason.

Ryan flips past pages of sheet music penned from similar scenarios to a blank page. He leans against the counter, writing down notes and chords and lyrics as time slips away. Before he knows it, he has a full song on his hands and Min’s returned.

“Hey, honey,” Min says, dropping the grocery bags on the kitchen table and leaning in for a kiss. “Whatcha got there?”

Ryan tips the sheet music notebook over so Min can see. “A new song. I’m calling this one ‘Sunsets’ for now. What do you think?”

Min hums thoughtfully as he peruses the notes. “It sounds pretty, Ryan! May I suggest a ukulele rift here?” He taps the third line down as he talks. “I think that would add to the image.”

Ryan grins. “You’re a genius, Min.” He’s said similar statements many times over their forty-year music-writing career, but it never gets old.

Min preens, laughing. “Oh, I know. I’m gonna call my parents in a few, okay?”

“Sure. Call me when you’re ready.” Ryan doesn’t take his eyes off the music as Min leaves.

When he eventually hits a block, he puts away the groceries. He’s just finished when Min pokes his head out of the office door and beckons.

 “Hello, Ryan!” Min’s mother greets when he steps inside. “Lovely to see you.”

“You as well, 어머님,” he replies, squeezing into the office chair next to Min. It’s not supposed to be big enough to fit them both, but they always seem to manage. Min laughs and tries to bat him off, but it’s halfhearted at this point. Ryan has been doing it for long enough that Min gave up a while ago. Besides, they both know Min likes the subtle affection.

“Just get another chair,” Min’s father grumbles, not unkindly. His wife gives him a small nudge on the shoulder.

“Leave them alone. Let them enjoy each other’s company,” Min’s mother replies, shaking her head in mirth. “If they’re still in their honeymoon phase after all this time, that’s on them.”

“엄마, please,” Min sighs, burying his head in his hands. His mother just laughs.

--

At precisely four P.M., he and Min are settled onstage at Saturday’s venue. It happens to be a beautiful outdoor amphitheater with vines and greenery gently climbing up the pillars holding up the stage’s ceiling. The audience area is open-sky and curves gently downward, like a bowl.

Ryan stands in the center of said “bowl”, guitar hanging from his shoulders by its strap. He raises his arms to the sky and spins, taking in everything.

From his place onstage, behind his synthesizer, Min laughs. “What are you doing?”

“Just taking in the sights.” Ryan does a final spin for good measure before turning to face Min. “It really is quite pretty.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Min gazes up at the orange-tinted sky with a soft smile. “Our manager really outdid herself with the booking this time. We’ll have to thank her.”

Ryan clambers up on the stage, silently wincing at the height gap between the audience floor and stage floor. He’s really not as young as he used to be, is he? “Should we send her flowers?”

“I think she really liked the sunflowers we got her last time. They were on her living room table when we visited her.” Min places his fingers on the keys, hovering just above them. “Maybe chocolate, too.”

Ryan laughs. “How cliché. Is there something I should know?” He waltzes over to Min and wraps a lazy arm around his husband, leaning all of his weight into Min’s shoulders.

Min laughs and shoves him off. “Please, do I have to come out to you again? Not all of us are interested in women, you know.”

“And what a great loss to the female community it is. The ladies of the Min-Gi Park fan club will have to go in mourning,” Ryan giggled. “But really, flowers and chocolate sound nice. She’ll like it.”

Min gave him a thumbs-up. “Sound check?”

Ryan gives his guitar an experimental strum. It echoes across the amphitheater beautifully, filling the bowl with sound and vibration. He whoops. “Let’s get this party started!”

“Not until Saturday, or else we’ll have some very unhappy neighbors to contend with,” Min admonishes, laughing. His fingers fly across the keys. “I’m good too.”

Ryan taps his mic. “Then let’s get ready to rock!” His voice booms across the venue. A few peacefully roosting birds take flight, squawking indignantly.

Min rolls his eyes. “Leave the poor birds alone, and you have a deal.”

“Please, we all know they just want to hear us play.” Ryan fishes his guitar pick from his jacket pocket and holds it poised over his guitar strings. “How do you feel about Train to Nowhere as a warm-up?”

“Fine by me,” Min says. His eyes don’t leave his synth. “It’s my favorite song to play with you, Ryan.”

“Well, of course,” Ryan says. “It’s what got us together, after all. In more ways than one.”

Min laughs. “Well, I can’t argue with that. Care to count us off?”

“Oh, I was just waiting for you to ask.” Ryan raises his pick and grins. “Five, six, eleven, twelve!”

Somewhere in Canada, the sun sets over a practicing music duo in the early 2020s. They laugh and goof around on an empty stage as birds and a few curious passerby stop to watch. The notes of their original hit song, “Train to Nowhere,” grace the evening air.

In the middle of the song, their eyes meet. They do not speak outside of the song lyrics, but an entire conversation passes through their gaze. It’s all they can do to not run to each other and hug each other right then and there.

After all, Ryan and Min-Gi Akagi-Park have lived a lifetime with each other. And they will live out the rest of their lives with each other, happy and content beyond imagination. 

~

i'm not korean so i'm not sure if the words i used for min's mother are right. if anyone knows better and sees i'm wrong, please tell me! the website said the word min uses ( 엄마 / eomma) is the informal way to say mom, and you only use it for your own mother. the word ryan uses ( 어머님 / eomeonim ) is formal and often used for mothers-in-law. eomma is really similar to the hebrew word for mother, which is amma. i think that's fascinating because hebrew and korean are not similar languages at all. lingustics as a whole is fascinating because you can see where languages and dialects split off from each other and where/why that happened in history. it's also really cool to see languages so similar to each other you can communicate with someone else in two different languages. languages also have cognants (not sure if i'm spelling that right) where a word is basically the same across multiple languages. it's really interesting to see in this modern world of quick and easy communication how many cognants we have, especially for semi-recent terms (the technology unit in french was SO easy). anyway sorry for the tangent i just really love linguistics

man i wasn't planning to write for today until i realized i'd overestimated the chapter count and it felt weird to not write aksdgfjs. i hope i can keep to this schedule of writing every day but school will probably put a hard stop to that. gotta get out as much writing as i can before then! i started writing this at like 9pm i'm so sorry if it's messy dkfhjfkd

we've come full circle! this started with baby rymin and now we have much older rymin. poetic cinema........

the euphoria i got everytime i wrote "his husband"......... they are MARRIED gamers!!!!!

this is a callout post for every time i pour myself a bowl of chips at my aunt and uncle's house and all five of them suddenly think my bowl is a free-for-all even though the bag is sitting right there. stop i am not a chip dispensary. do not be min-gi akagi-park leave my chips alone

title is from uhhhh i don't know what it was called (some indie thing) but it was in my last winterguard show (fuck covid i wanted a senior season) and it just popped into my head. or it might have just been a voice line from something i heard it in another show with different music. whatever it's almost 1 am i'll look it up later. i put it on my titles doc (which is 90% song lyrics and which my brother likes to call the "song lyric moodboard" even though it's just a bullet list) out of impulse and nostalgia and never really intended to use it but it actually fits really well here?? who knew

it didn't make it in but i imagine that ryan and min have a parrot named kez and they've taught it some of kez's favorite and most iconic phrases. imagine you are visiting acclaimed musical duo chicken choice judy's house and you hear a parrot squawk at you "Why do you hate fun, Min." another thing that kind of made it in but not quite was that ryan has all those weird guitars. im picturing this one my temporary songleading teacher at camp, who's a professional musician and probably the most famous jewish folk artist out there (which is a very niche group so he's not really famous), brought out once. it was really small and had like eight tiny strings all crammed in together and it both fascinated and terrified me. i have no idea how you can play that without accidentally pressing all the wrong strings all the time but dan nichols can do it so i've decided ryan can do it too

tomorrow is au day... you know what that means... *shoves rymin into my current hyperfixation*

if you ever wanna talk infinity train, writing, these amazing characters, or really anything hmu here on my tumblr or on twitter! thank you for reading, and please leave a reblog/like/comment if you enjoyed it!

@ryminweek

[fablesrose]

It’s Simple

Summary: Dean’s come to a realization about his best friend, a realization that could make things complicated.

Word count: 1093

Pairing: Dean x reader

Square filled: Friends to Lovers

Masterlist ~ Bingo Masterlist

Song: Simple Man by Lynyrd Skynyrd

A/n: for @girl-next-door-writes Make Me Feel Bingo (two fics in one day, look at me go!) and for @jensengirl83 1k Classic Rock Challenge, congrats!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Don’t make things complicated, Dean.”

His mother’s voice came to him as he sat in his car. The radio was playing, take out box in his lap, and his best friend sat in the passenger seat looking at the lit up city.

The lights reflected in her eyes as she laughed at some stupid joke he had cracked out. He didn’t think she had ever looked more beautiful.

He loved her.

Dean was dumbstruck at the realization. She was his best friend, he couldn’t love her. Who could he talk to about this, normally it would be her, but he can’t talk to her about his feelings for her.

“Don’t make things complicated.”

His ears tuned into the radio as it started a new song, but he just kept staring at her.

“Are you okay Dean?” Y/n reached for the radio knob to turn the volume down.

Dean caught her hand, “Yeah, I’m fine, let’s just listen to this song for a minute.”

She nodded and leaned back into her seat.

Mama told me when I was young Come sit beside me my only son And listen closely to what I say And if you do this it'll help you Some sunny day oh yeah

Dean thought back to when they would play in his yard with her in the sprinklers because it was hot out. He was sure other kids were there too, but it didn’t really matter. Even at ten years old he had known that they would be best friends, hopefully for the rest of their lives.

Oh take your time don't live too fast Troubles will come and they will pass Go find a woman yeah and you'll find love And don't forget son there is someone up above

He remembered all the hard times. When he was stressed, when he was worried, when he was confused, she was always there to calm him down, listen, give him advice, or even just wrap her arms around him to make him feel safe. She was always there.

And be a simple kind of man Oh be something you love and understand Baby be a simple kind of man Oh won't you do this for me son if you can

He smiled as the thought of her in a shorter hair cut came to him. It didn’t suit her at all. It looked absolutely horrible. She said it was easier to take care of. He teased her about it, but she liked it, so there wasn’t much he could do.

Forget your lust for the rich man's gold All that you need is in your soul And you can do this oh babe if you try All that I want for you my son is to be satisfied

Dean worked himself to the bone sometimes. To support himself, to help out his family, even just a little bit. He had to be successful. He had to make it. Not even his brother or his current girlfriend could convince him to stop sometimes. But then Y/n would walk in the door, set down a beer, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. She always reminded him that he was enough, that he didn’t need to go above and beyond to show he was worth it.

And be a simple kind of man Oh be something you love and understand Baby be a simple kind of man Oh won't you do this for me son if you can Oh yes I will

He remembered studying with her for final exams. He would teach her math and science while she reviewed his essays and quizzed him on history. She even tutored some of his friends which no one should have to deal with. That being said she made him return the favor with some of hers, so maybe they where even.

Oh don't you worry you'll find yourself Follow your heart and nothing else And you can do this oh babe if you try All that I want for you my son is to be satisfied

Even after high school she was always there. When his parents lovingly kicked him out of the house to live his life. To find himself. To find what he needed to do. To find what path he needed to take. She was just one phone call away.

And be a simple kind of man Oh be something you love and understand Baby be a simple kind of man Oh won't you do this for me son if you can

Now here she sat next to him. Listening to a song, and he realized he loved her. Her eyes were closed as she listened, which he was relieved of. If she looked at him looking at her, she knew him so well Dean was sure Y/n could see right through him in this moment.

And baby be a simple real simple man Oh be something you love and understand Baby be a simple kind of man

Maybe this wasn’t as complicated as he thought.

The guitar faded out, and he was ready. At least he thought he was.

He leaned up and turned the radio down before the next song could start.

“Seriously, Dean are you okay?”

He nodded, “Yeah, I think so… Hey, do you remember what my mom used to say whenever we would come up to her with a problem?”

Y/n smiled, “Yeah, she said don’t over complicate it.”

Dean chuckled nervously, “That’s right, so, uh, I wanna make this as simple as possible.”

She tilted her head, “Okay...”

“You’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember, you’ve been right beside me, you’ve helped me, you’ve been-”

“Just generally amazing, I know.”

Dean laughed, the tension in his limbs fading, “You got that right. So, I just came to the realization that I think I’m in love with you.”

There was a beat of silence and he worried that he made a mistake, that he did make it complicated.

“’Bout time you figured that out.” Y/n grabbed another fork full of her food and put it in her mouth.

“What?”

“I said, it’s about time, because I love you too, dumbass.”

Dean let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, “Really? Holy crap! Uh, can I kiss you?”

“Buy me dinner first.”

“What do you mean buy you dinner first, I literally just bought you that. I’ve already bought you dinner, multiple times, including tonight.”

“That doesn’t count, you bought it before you confessed.”

“But I didn’t know!”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Best Buds: @snarky--starky  @kitkatd7 @confetti-its-an-imagine-blog @kaogasm

Dean: @akshi8278

[sinkix]

~ Haikyuu!! Boys baking with reader - Ft. Ushijima, Tendou, Oikawa, Hinata & Nishinoya ~

YO! SO UHHHH... I’M BACK??? I GUESS?? MAYBE??? After a little break I had this in my drafts for a while and realllyyy wanted to complete it since it’s such a cute concept. Honestly at this point my posting frequencies are so sporadic and random pls forgive me lmao.

@deathcab4daddy​ gave me the inspo to include Ushi and it was so funny coming up with ideas for him, he is no.1 country boi chef 

Dude I’m listening to the Mario Kart soundtrack ‘Coconut Mall’ while I continue writing this someone save me. Like u think I’m joking. UR WRONG.

Ushijima:

The most straightforward yet idiotic baker you will ever come across.

Before you even THINK about performing step 1, he will read the entire fucking leaflet like it’s a Shakesperean monologue.

INGREDIENTS INCLUDED.

LIKE SIS I DIDN’T NEED TO KNOW IT CONTAINS  MONOCALCIUM PHOSPHATE THANK YOU.

I’m surprised he doesn’t count every single particle in the brownie mix.

You bought him a frilly cupcake-printed apron stating ‘best wife’ not expecting him to actually wear it

But since he’s secretly a big softie and treasures anything you buy he wears it proudly.

His stoic and dignified disposition is a comical contrast to the words printed on the front lmao.

Ushi best wifey bro.

The tight fit of the apron is pretty hot since it outlines every ridge of his pecs and tightly toned torso.

Gotta resist groping your mans while stirring the brownie batter.

tbh he’s more likely to grope you, he can’t resist that a$$.

And let’s face it he’s def an ass/thigh kinda guy.

Can and will try to casually initiate some form of unholy activities by lifting you up onto the kitchen counter, goading you to slowly lick the spoon and locking gazes before pulling you in for a deep, open-mouthed kiss to get a taste of the incomplete creation himself.

Ushi’s lips and brownie batter are a knock-out combo js.

Literally has the most serious face when he’s cracking the eggs into the bowl

The amount of concentration is equivalent to that of when he’s performing a serve at match-point.

HAS to set the temperature to the EXACT degree stated on the box

Everything is done by the book if you do one thing out of place he will pull you up on it lol.

“(Y/N) you were supposed to stir it for 5 minutes, not 7.”

When its done you feed him some and he can’t help but smile its so ADORBALE AHHH.

You end up eating most of it since Ushi doesn’t strike me as much of a chocolate/junk food lover.

STILL A VERY FUN BUT F R U S T R A T I N G EXPERIENCE.

Tendou:

The complete opposite of Ushi

Does everything wrong and the unconventional way.

Absolute disaster but doesn’t even sweat it since Tendou basically thrives in chaos and the disorderly.

To him instructions are purely equivocal, will read them for five seconds then toss them away.

Step aside Gordon Ramsey, Chef Tendou is here.

Despite doing everything the unorthodox way it still comes out amazing.

Like??? how???

Will cheekily place a dollop batter on your nose then lick it off fh3jkeffefds

Or if he’s feelin’ a lil freaky, he’ll swipe it off with his long ass finger and make you suck it clean, smirking at your submission as you coat his finger with your saliva.

oop-

Constantly cracking jokes and shitty food puns, pretending to drop the bowl to make you go into preemptive cardiac arrest before you can swat him with the spatula.

While you’re waiting for the timer to ping, Satori being the schemer he is will use this as an opportunity to pull some fuckery and tease you in any way he can.

u better be praying like bodhisattva TanaNoya rn because he is MERCILESS.

Suggestive comments, the brush of his fingers against your thigh, it’ll leave you A C H I N G in frustration by the end of it.

Unholy activities aside, once your baking session is completed you finish it off by feeding PHAT forkfuls of brownie to each other and giggling like dorks when it gets all over your mouth.

The jackass actually got a fingerful and SMEARED it over your cheek and forehead, drawing a little cross and snickering when the crumbs fall onto your nose.

Tendou was smart to draw a cross bc he gonna need jesus with the ATTACK you launch on him after that, which promptly leads to an all out food war in your kitchen that neither of you want to clean up after ward.

Don’t worry though it’s Tendou, he’ll somehow find a way to make such a mundane activity fun.

Nishinoya:

stirs WAY TOO VIOLENTLY

IT’S LIKE AN ELECTRIC WHISK ON OVERDRIVE.

IT WILL SPLATTER OVER THE COUNTER, CUPBOARDS AND EVERYTHING YOU HOLD DEAR WITHIN A 1 MILE RADIUS.

You best believe he will try and eat some of the batter and you have to swat the spoon away from his mouth since he has NO REGARD FOR THE FACT HE COULD GET SALMONELLA.

Plus you know what Noya’s like once he starts eating something the whole thing will be gone in a matter of milliseconds.

He somehow managed to get Baking powder EVERYWHERE and even gave him self a little moustache with it.

The white substance kinda looked like something else but you didn’t really wanna say lmaooo.

could explain why he has so much energy all the time oK ILL STOP-

While you’re putting the mix on the tray he is SO extra and will do fancy lil swirls and over extend his arm like a swan to gracefully spread the batter

until he nearly fucking knocks it over.

During processing time since he is so excitable and impatient you best believe he’s gonna suggest a game of ping pong or something because my guy can well and truly never sit still.

ping pong match with the spatulas, kitchen island and a hard boiled egg.

Pls be careful he will rolling thunder that egg and pimp slap it so hard with the spatula it’ll damn near give you a concussion, not intentionally, but like protect your noggin. Wear a helmet.

For the remaining 5 minutes of baking time y’all just sit like kids in front of the oven and watching it rise like starved hyena’s observing it’s pray before demolishing it into sad particles of cocoa.

And lemme tell u, once the timer pings, that baking tray is free real estate for Noya. Half of your creation will be devoured before you can even put it on a plate and marvel at your handiwork. 

He kicked your ass at spatula ping pong btw I’m sorry sweaty but short kings stay winning.

Oikawa:

Such a dramatic bitch like he got the whole she-bang going on.

Strapped with a pink apron, a whisk at his side and standing proudly with both hands on his hips.He is prepared like a greek gladiator going into battle.

You better believe he gonna make some snarky remarks and tease your method of doing things. 

“Ah-ah-ahhh (Y/N)-chan you’re doing it all wrong, let me show you how a PRO does it.”

Proceeds to drop entire bowl on his foot and yelp like a little girl in pain.

Well and truly embarrassed with himself, you put a band-aid on his toe and he piped down after that.

Shattered big toe and mixing bowl aside, actually a really good baker??

He is a PRO at decorating, y’all decided on cupcakes since its literally his forte to make them look aesthetic and pretty.

You almost don’t wanna eat them from how good they look.

jk almost

You take it in turns breaking bits off and placing pieces into each others mouth with a loud “aaaaaahhh!”

Places a piece in your mouth, leans forward and locks lips with you in a soft, passionate kiss before pulling away and uttering the words “It tastes even better coming from your mouth ;)”

hnnnNNGGGGGGggGg.

You both whine and bicker over who cleans up after.

“You cleaaannnnn!”

“no Toru YOU clean!”

“but I made the cupcakes look pretty :(”

“not as pretty as you <3″

He did the cleaning after that.

Like just stroke his ego with some compliments and he’s whipped with a smug grin on his face for the next 30 minutes.

You decide to save the rest and bring them to his next practise.

Literally on the verge of tears when he sees you beaming and holding the platter of treats, Kiyotani mauls half of them in a matter of seconds to which Oiks gets salty over LMAO.

Hinata:

So excited oh my god he’s so precious please protect him I will CRY-

Has a little sunflower apron on and JBJKNDDDKDW IM SMILING JUST IMAGINING HIM FIDGETING IN EXCITEMENT OVER THE THOUGHT OF BAKING COOKIES.

Yes you decided on cookies bc he goes rabid for some choc chip biccies.

You have to guide him v carefully because of how easily confused and clumsy he is.

Cannot for the life of him crack the eggs without getting a quarter of the shell in the bowl so you have to do it instead.

Has a surprising amount of strength and forearm power bc holy shit boy can stir FAST.

Hums a little tune while he does it and bobs up and down with a wide grin on his face it’s so adorable, he has such a gentle singing voice I can’t-

Attempts different shapes with the batter when pouring it onto the tray but fails pretty miserably lol.

he tried ok???

Once they’re done he takes the tray out of the oven and since it was heavy, subconsciously propped it with his knee and nearly dropped the entire tray from the pain. (I’ve actually done this before when making chicken nuggets I do not advise being that brain dead)

Had to put some burn cream on the bbies knee :’((

When you decided to dig in, he handed you a cookie that looked like a crooked circle and said he tried to make that one a heart and insisted he feed it to you.

Blushed VERY hard at the moment of silence and intense eye contact while he fed it to you.

Nearly short circuited when his fingers brushed against your lips.

Moe moe x100000000000000000000000000000

You offer to do the cleaning after because he hurt himself and you didn’t wanna make him do any work, but he still offered to wipe the surfaces for you bc he’s an angel <333

literally just wanna marry him.

[heresathreebee]

A Halo of Holly

Marcus Moreno X Black!reader (1940s AU)

Summary: you can’t help falling in love with your neighbor who happens to be a fellow single parent (and unbeknownst to you, a superhero, too). 

Masterlist Part 2

Word Count: 1.3k words

Warning(s): rated T (for now), barely edited (no beta but myself), fluffy Christmas stuff, transatlantic speech, you’ve got your son’s dad’s last name despite never having married him, mild language, inappropriate thoughts

December 19th marks the beginnings of the Christmas season for most families in Holly's Grove. As the menorah's came down from some of the apartment windows, wreaths and lights went up, the holiday decorations turned white and red and green in celebration of that special time at the end of the year. The residents of Holly cleaned out their chimneys, dusted their boots of snow just outside the front door, and tuned into whatever channel was playing It's A Wonderful Life and Miracle on 34th Street on the television set. 

Except for you, of course. 

Your rooms were decorated just the way you liked it, all except for the lights and the tree. You sat on the floor inspecting each and every bulb on the string for the faulty wire while Billie Holiday's Christmas specials played on the gramophone. The wood from the fire was finally dry enough to light and the warmth eked its way slowly through to your bones. 

"Damn things," you cursed. 

You dropped the lights in a huff and leaned forward. You've got two options, girl, you thought. Buy some new ones or get some help. But who could you call for help with a broken light at a time like this? 

~

Across the delightfully inviting alley, Marcus Moreno let his daughter adjust the television settings. Missy groaned as her favorite movie came to an end, but perked up when yet another toy commercial came on. He chuckled as she pointed excitedly at the screen, and he tried to pretend to be too busy making dinner. That's when a knock came at the door. 

Dumm dum-duh-dum dumm. 

Missy stood on the couch cushions, but her father waved her down to sit. "I'll get it." 

He opened the door. A rush of freezing cold air and the gentle swinging wood revealed his (second) favorite face: yours. Wrapped in nothing protective except a scarf and shivering in your boots. 

"Come in, come in!" He waved you inside and shut the door, mindful of his daughter with her head turned like an owl's. "Well, you must be frozen solid!" 

You laughed despite your chattering teeth. "I suppose I didn't think to grab a coat since you were so close, but on the way, why it felt like I walked a mile to get here." 

"Silly thing," he chided. His hands rubbed up and down your bare arms, coaxing his warmth into you. Your shivering only worsened and you had half a mind to drag him closer and wrap him into a hug. Almost. "What did you walk through all that snow in next to nothing for?" 

Oh I'd love to see you in next to nothing. "Oh just this." 

You pulled the lights around from behind your back and put your head down in embarrassment. "I plugged it in and the whole thing won't light. They worked just fine last year, but I can't find the busted part…" 

"Let me take a look." The way Mr. Moreno's face turned hard as rock as he focused on something never failed to make your toes curl in your shoes. "Why don't you sit down and get comfortable. Missy? Stir that pot for me, will you?" 

Your embarrassment came clawing up your back again. "Oh I'm so sorry, if I'd've known I was interrupting your dinner, I would have waited until tomorrow!" 

"Nonsense," Mr. Moreno waved it off and took the lights to his work bench, "we both know Dave isn't going to let you put anything else up after tonight." 

You harrumphed onto the couch knowing he was right. Dave was running the homeowner's association since his wife was sick, and in a lot of ways he was worse than she was. All decorations had to be put up by the 20th or they wouldn't be allowed to go up at all. He had always hated that the Peabody's seemed to acquire something new and shiny every night until Christmas and now he had the authority to do something about it. 

"For a Christmas lover, he sure can be a grinch about the details," you said, and preened at Missy's merry giggle. 

You felt strange sitting there in that house. Missy was one of your students, her father never missed a parent-teacher conference, and yet you felt you knew more about them after you had realized you were neighbors. Perhaps one day, this place might feel like a second home. The Morenos’ certainly seemed to want you to feel that way. 

"Sauce is ready!," Missy called. 

Mr. Moreno stood up from his desk and dropped his tools, taking the pot off the stove top and shooing his daughter away with a conspiratorial whisper. The little angel bounced towards you, leaning in a little too close and asking if you'd like to have dinner with them. 

"Oh," you start to protest, "oh no, dear that wouldn't be…" wouldn't be what? Appropriate? You were already in their house asking for free repairs. An unmarried woman in a man's house. The rumor mill was already churning so why try to save face now? "Oh, alright then." 

The first bite of the Moreno's dish nearly had you swooning to the floor. You slap a hand over your mouth just in case you start drooling. It's an explosion of flavors and it's so warm sliding down your throat. You can even feel a tear or two prick up in your eyes. 

"Oh Mr. Moreno, this is wonderful," you praised the man who tried to bury his head and hide his blush. 

"It'd be nothing without the help of my second chef," he motioned to Missy. "She knows all the herbs and spices for a good sauce and she stirs like a champion." 

Little Missy beamed like a star. And how could she not with praise so readily given. You purposefully take one forkful at a time to pace yourself and enjoy the meal and the company. After helping clean up in the kitchen, Mr. Moreno comes back to you with your lights. He plugs the cord into the outlet and…

"Voila!" 

Golden white light fills the space between you and you cheer. "Which one was it? Where was the line broken?" 

"Here," he points to the wire between the sixth and seventh bulb. He sees the frustration from earlier mar your happy face and he bends down to get you to meet his eyes. "It's one light in a hundred, I missed it once or twice when I was looking at it, too." 

You take the string from him (neatly coiled for easy carry unlike when you had brought it to him earlier) and planted a lightning quick kiss on his jaw. "Thank you, Mr. Moreno, you're a real Johnny-on-the-spot." 

He shifted his feet and seemed pleased with himself. "You can call me Marcus. It's only fitting since we live so close and all. And, you know, you are Missy's favorite teacher." 

"It's true," the girl yelled from the countertop. Her father picked her up and set her on her feet to start getting ready for bed. "Goodnight, Mrs. Jones!" 

"Goodnight, dear!" 

You're back in your home as quickly as you can be, Mr. Moreno hot on your trail to make sure you get in safe. He offers to help you put up the lights, but you decline firmly. You can see Mrs. Aldridge looking at you from out of her window and you know exactly what she'll tell people if she sees him come through your door. 

"I really must thank you again Mr. Moreno," you say, "I'd be at it all night just to get these things right." 

"It's no trouble at all," he says, and then, boldly, with a cautious but telling smirk, he calls you by your name. 

Your breath catches in your throat and you smile. "Goodnight, Marcus." 

Author’s Note: do you want to be tagged in future pedro pascal fics of mine? let me know in the comments! 

[hansoulo]

east of eden

pairing: gustavo gaviria/f!reader

warnings: cursing, canon-typical behavior and discussions, mentions of drugs, allusions to... stuff. cool.

word count: 1.9k

gif credit: (x) by my baby @bobafvtt

a/n: i just wanna be marina. we all wanna be marina.

You look Gustavo up and down in your sunglasses, his face tinted dark pink and hazy. He’s taller than you thought he’d be.

Your brother dismounts from his horse to shake hands. Introductions. Pleasantries. That sort of thing. Gustavo kisses your knuckles when you tell him your name and you only scoff a little bit, pull away slightly for the show of it all.

Yes, he’s very tall. Handsome, too, which should be dangerous (is dangerous given who he is and what he’s here to do) but you’ve always been one for pretty things. Expensive things, like the watch on his wrist that bounces back the light of the Colombian sun. His voice is deep when he laughs, a quiet chuckle in his chest that shakes the gold hanging above the hollow of his throat. He catches you looking. You pretend not to notice.

Fabio turns to discuss something with Pablo and the other men (transports or labs or some man with a plane) but you tune it out for the most part, walking a few dusty steps to meet the warm stare of his horse. You pat at its shoulders, cooing softly when it rears against your touch until it settles again, allowing your hand on the brown velvet of its head. Horses are nice. They don’t fuss over you or where you’re going or who you’re with. They just let you be.

Fabio would never let you ride this one, of course, but that’s neither here nor there. He doesn’t let you do a lot of things. You can hear their voices back in the courtyard but you just stay by the horse,  bored while they talk because business is always dull like that. You’re hungry. Tired.

Someone moves behind you and you jump, startled for a brief moment before another low laugh travels in the space between your bodies and goosebumps rise on your neck. “Scared?” the man asks, watching as you turn and twist the sunglasses off your face. It’s Gustavo.

“No,” you say after a moment, leaning against the fence. “It’s not nice to sneak up on your host, you know. Bad manners and all.”

“Well, I’m very sorry,” he responds, his lip quirking up just enough for you to see the faint edge of a dimple on his cheek. The wooden post digs into your hip as you rest against it, looking up at him with sun-squinted eyes.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” you respond, your voice notching in your throat when he comes one, two steps closer. “Not a very good liar, if you ask me.”

Gustavo smirks again, wolfish and much more attractive than it should be, bringing the smell of tobacco and sharp fruit over your nose when he reaches to fiddle with the thin strap of your dress. He rolls the yellow linen back between his thumb and pointer finger and your face flushes.

“Watch it!” Luis warns from across the way with a scowl.

Gustavo lets go, his fingers dragging against the bare skin of your shoulders. Your smile is saccharine before you turn away. “I’ll see you around,” you whisper, your sunglasses still dangling from your hand.

You’re gone with another toss of your head, up through the foyer and through open hallways as your sandals echo against marble floors.

⫸ ——–- ⫷

“Where’s Jorge?” you ask with a frown, watching as the dining table is set by women in pressed gray uniforms. He was supposed to be here, with your brothers and you. With Gacha - god, you hated him - with Pablo and with… Gustavo.

Fabio clicks off his radio with a sigh. “Business trip,” he tells you shortly, maneuvering around the chairs to walk back into the parlor, where the other men were sitting before dinner was ready.

“Oh,” you breathe out to no one in particular. “Okay.”

He doesn’t offer anything else so you just sigh, tracing the carved wooden backings of the chairs with your palm as you circle around the room. Maybe you could sneak something in the meantime.

You push past the double doors and hear the swinging of their hinges, stepping into the kitchen and eyeing the corner pantry. The room’s empty save for a maid and you wave at her, watching as she leaves with a stack of china plates. You’ve always liked the kitchen, with its wide windows and tall shelves and the way it smells like flour. Things are muffled in here. Far-removed. Nothing of concern besides whether or not the oven timer works and how your little pot of thyme rests on the windowsill.

The cupboard creaks as you open it and you rest your weight on the thin wood panel as you rummage behind the potatoes. You’ve used this shelf to hide food since you were a child and it’s no different now, even though you know your family could afford to buy you practically anything these days. Old habits die hard, you suppose, and so your chocolate stash remains undisturbed.

When you close it you’re met with the sight of a shirt, striped white and blue and smelling like laundry soap. It’s Gustavo again, leaning against the edge of the counter beside you with an amused sort of look on his face. Your eyes only widen a little bit before you raise your eyebrows.

“Want some?” you offer, snapping off a corner and holding it out. “I hide the good kind in here,” you say as you motion to the pantry. Gustavo laughs, more sincere this time. His eyes do this sort of crinkling thing when he smiles. You like it. A lot.

“I came here for a drink, actually,”

You shake your head. “Mm, no you didn’t,” you lilt, biting off a piece of chocolate when he doesn’t take it. Gustavo cocks his head. Like he’s daring you to do something. You don’t know what. “I saw that they have a bar cart in the parlor,” you say after you swallow, watching him as he watches you.

“Alright then,” he concedes. “I came to see you.”

The foil package crinkles when you set it down, your hand coming up to toy with the buttons of his shirt. You drag your fingernail across them until they catch on the smooth grooves, tracing the way the kitchen lights reflect back in alabaster. He just lets you do it. Humors you. “And what would everyone say,” you hummed, “If they knew you were alone with me?”

A finger, calloused but skimming soft, hooks under your dress strap again, lifting it and letting it fall along the slope of your shoulder. The air’s heavy; a little choking in the space between. Not suffocating, exactly, but thick in your throat like the fog of summer rain. His eyes are dark. Like chocolate. “They don’t have to know.”

You purse your lips to taste the sugar still stuck to the roof of your mouth before you hear your name called from somewhere, dampened by stucco walls. “We should go,” you whisper, not making any move to do so. Gustavo’s hand is still on your shoulder and his thumb presses into the divot of sloping bone, rubbing a slow half-circle. He’s looking at you still, eyeing his slow liquid gaze at the way your chest rises with your breathing. He’s bold, you’ll give him that.

You suck in an inhale and it comes out sharp, stilted and soft in your larynx before you speak again. “C’mon,” you say, letting your arms fall at your sides. “Don’t want to keep them waiting.”

He nods and you step away, worrying the bottom flesh of your lip between your teeth to hide your smile.

⫸ ——–- ⫷

You stay in the hallway for a few minutes after, resting your head on the plaster wall as Gustavo leaves. You know on an intellectual level that toying with whatever that was could probably land you in deep shit, but you’re bored and he’s nice to you, not because he’s paid to be but because he wants to. Maybe nice isn’t exactly the right word, but he’s sweet in a heady, rich sort of way. He said he liked your earrings. Said he’d buy you more. If you let him. If you wanted him to.

When you finally go into the dining room, there’s only one empty seat.

“Sit down,” Fabio motions to the chair, guiding you forward with a light hand on your shoulder.

“Oh but-” you begin, meeting the back of a dark head, a tan cap and wide shoulders. He doesn’t turn around but you know he’s listening, even as he leans over to the man to his right and starts talking.

“Sit down,” your brother repeats, impatient. The chair scrapes against the floor when Gustavo pulls it out for you. Sharp teeth. Large hands.

So you sit, feeling suddenly very small when you’re next to him like this, close almost to touching but far enough to seem unfamiliar. His palm brushes your thigh when his arm drops and you shoot him a look. Be careful, your face warns. You’ll get caught.

Maybe he takes that as a challenge. Maybe he just doesn’t care.

Gustavo’s eyes glint as he raises a glass of wine to his mouth, tinting them a light red stain. His tongue darts out and he drags it across his lips, nonplussed as you cough into your napkin. Tease.

You eat in silence; offer half-hearted responses to the men’s half-hearted questions. They move on from you quickly and turn in on themselves, little groups of twos and threes around the table. You hear smatterings of conversation and feel like a lampshade, there to decorate ugly things and stay still.

“Having fun?” a now familiar voice asks as the empty glasses increase, prompting louder voices and the clapping of drunken hands on drunken backs.

You push the food around your plate with a lazy fork. “Hardly,” you respond, the words dry and muffled into your cheek as your face rests in your palm. “You?”

“Not at all,” he responds, looking over at his supposed business partners. Pablo’s beginning a drinking song and you roll your eyes, dramatic as you motion a pretend noose around your throat. Gustavo chuckles and you smile back, your expression turning puzzled when he clears his throat. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” he says to the men now swaying back and forth, their arms around each other’s shoulders as they join in liquor-addled singing. He pats the pocket of his shirt and spares you a split-second glance before he stands. “I need a cigarette.”

A cigarette. Gross things, really, that lingered on people’s clothes and made your father’s lungs weak. A cigarette.

His palm slips down your neck when he’s behind you, his fingers curling hot around your hair before he lets go and walks away. A cigarette.  A pointed look. A cigarette.

Oh.

⫸ ——–- ⫷

He’s on you before the bathroom door closes.

“My brothers are gonna kill me,” you groan, tipping your head back against the doorframe as Gustavo’s hands slide across your waist. “How much time do we have?”

“Maybe fifteen minutes,” he replies, kissing a wet bruise into the skin of your jaw. “Before they start getting suspicious.”

“Fifteen minutes,” you repeat, gasping on the ending syllable when his lips seal across your pulse point.

Gustavo nods, his hair brushing against your cheek as he hooks his arms underneath your legs. “Fifteen minutes.”

[hellevank]

☆彡 his sweet peas

tsukishima kei x reader

reader warnings: fluff, mentions of death

perspective: reader ; tsukishima

prompt: “Sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery, but today you’ve caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the “girl is pretty enough to warrant flower theft” and I’m trying to figure out how to break it to you that we’re on our way to a graveyard.”

a/n: i totally think tsukki has a hidden hobby and theorizing it could be gardening got me s o f t

---

You look at your neighbour’s flowers, blooming as ever. You look at the time, 2:45 pm. Your neighbour isn’t home at this time, so you grab their sweet peas from their garden, hopefully they won’t notice. The flowers smell as good as ever, you think to yourself. You quickly pick two, and as you turn you see long, lean legs. You look up and you see a tall, blonde man. He has defined muscles, looks like he’s at your age, though his face is fixed with a mean expression, judging, calculating, analyzing, salty?

You quickly rise, good God, he’s tall. “U-um i-it’s not what it looks like! I swear I w-was just looking at the flowers.” You nervously chuckle. Oh God, I am so dead.

“So it was you who was picking my flowers for the past month. That’s sly of you, knowing when I leave and arrive at my house. Very stalkerish as well.” He spits.

You cringe at his tone, “Look, I’m sorry. I’ll pay you $100, and I’ll get off your back, yeah?” He looks at you for a few seconds, thinking, “Please?”

Finally, to what seems like forever, he comes to a conclusion, “Well let’s see if you’re pretty enough just to be warranted a flower theft. I’ll be going with you.”

You freeze, crap. I’m going to the graveyard. I can’t let him go with me. I need time to myself. Surely he’s a busy man. “A-ah, sir, are you sure? Don’t you have somewhere else to attend to?” You scratch your neck, hoping he’d buy into it. “Please, I’ll just pay you $100. I’ll never bother you again.”

He denies your offer, “No. I’m coming with you, and that’s that. Let me grab my jacket and keys and we’ll be on our way.”

He walks back in his house, ah, crap. That was a fail. This is going to be so awkward. He walks back outside with a black and white jacket, closing the door behind him. His hands stuffed in his pockets, “What are you waiting for? Take me to where you bring my flowers.”

You gulp, shakily slinging your backpack over your shoulder. You look at him sheepishly, “This way.”

You two walk, an uncomfortable silence filling the air. You break the silence, “S-so, uh, what’s your name? I don’t think I’ve caught it.”

The blonde looks at you, for a second hesitating. You can sense the gears turn in his head as he raises his eyebrow at you, “Tsukishima Kei. College senior. Yours?”

You look away, “(l/n) (f/n). I-I’m also a college senior, majoring in physics. Nice to meet you. Um, sorry we had to meet like this.”

Tsukishima hums. You hold the flowers shakily, almost crushing them while you’re deep in thought, this is so awkward, this is so awkward this is so-

“You’re gonna crush the sweet peas. Please don’t wreck my precious flowers.”

Startled, you look down at your pale white hands. Tsukishima looks at you, disgruntled. You loosen your grip and blush furiously, “A-ah, sorry! Sorry! I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry!” You managed to squeak. He mutters something to himself, and continues to look disinterested.

After a few minutes the houses start disappearing, all that’s left is a large field with tombstones, fences surrounding it. Your eyes look over at the tombs, until you realize Tsukishima had fallen behind. “You coming? You said you wanted to see where I bring my flowers to.”

Tsukishima grunts, “Well, yeah, but I didn’t think we’d be going to a graveyard.”

“You didn’t ask. You just said you wanted to come, so here we are.”

Tsukishima huffs and picks up his pace, eventually catching up to you after a couple strides. His damned long legs, you think to yourself.

You reach the gate and enter the office. There was a guard sitting, maybe in his late 30s, reading a newspaper. He looks up and smiles at you, while raising his eyebrow at Tsukishima, “Hey (l/n)-chan. It’s today, isn’t it?”

You give the guard a sullen smile, “Yeah, it is. Sorry to bother you, Takoma-san..”

He waves you off, “It’s fine. Please give my regards to them.”

You nod, “Thank you.” The guard hums, though it doesn’t seem like he’s finished talking.

“You, boy, what’s your name and what’s your business with (l/n)-chan?”

Tsukishima looks up from his phone, “I was accompanying (l/n). She’s been stealing my flowers.”

You blush, “H-hey! I had good intentions.” Tsukishima puffs and continues to scroll through his phone. “Sorry again, Takoma-san. We’ll get going.”

Stepping out of Takoma’s office, you glance at Tsukishima. “Hey, Tsukishima-san. You can stop following me now. I can take it from here.” You look up to Tsukishima, who seems like his mind is already set on a thought. I have a feeling this guy is stubborn when his thoughts are set.

“No, I’m coming with you. I wanna know who you’re giving my sweet peas to.”

You stand firm, “No, it’s fine. Thank you for accompanying me here. I can take it from here. I’ll pay your $100 tomorrow, okay?” You look at your watch, 3:20 pm.

“No, I’m coming with you, whether you’d like me to or not.”

You huff in annoyance, well at least I tried. For the last time. Giving in, you follow the paved path, Tsukishima silently trailing behind. The sun doesn’t seem to shine as brightly as it did earlier, though the vast blue sky seems to make up for it. Birds chirping in the distance as you walk closer to the graves, and looking behind you, it seems like Tsukishima has already stuffed his phone in his pocket, intrigued by the tombstones surrounding the two of you. Approaching a fork in the road, you turn right, where the path eventually stops. The cool grass tickles your ankles as you walk through it. At the far right, there are two tombstones sitting beside each other, distant from the rest. You walk over, unaware of Tsukishima’s footsteps behind you. You reach the tombstones, and place each sweet peas on both tombs. It read (l/n) Akemi and (l/n) Kazuki. You take off your backpack and kneel, opening your bag to reveal a blanket. You take it out of your bag, lay it flat, spreading its corners. You were humming a tune until you noticed Tsukishima’s legs.

To be perfectly honest, you’d forgotten for a split second that he was standing watching you. You look at him and raise your eyebrow, “Well? Do you, uh, wanna sit? You look a little uncomfortable. I brought some snacks if you’d like.”

Tsukishima nods and sits on the blanket. “Ma, Pop, this is Tsukishima-san, my neighbour. I, uh, took some flowers from his garden to bring them to you. Don’t worry, I’ve said sorry and will repay, so there’s nothing to worry about.” You flashed a wistful smile on the tombstones. “Tsukishima-san, these are my parents. It’s their first year anniversary. Death. Yeah.” You pause,  “Ah, what am I thinking? I should give snacks. That was rude of me. I have some rice balls here, Tsukishima-san. Would this be enough?” He nods, taking the rice ball you’d given. He hadn’t expected that you’d bring his flowers to the graveyard, much less to your parents’ tombs. He didn’t know what to do, or how to act, rather, so he bowed to the graves. You give him a smile, muttering another apology for stealing your sweet peas.

“It’s fine, (l/n)-san. May I ask a question?”

You turn to him, swallowing a bite of your rice ball, “How they died?” Tsukishima nods, “Ah, well we got into a car accident last year. My parents work in the FBI, and I guess some criminals thought it was a good idea to take revenge. They succeeded, of course.” You look down, trying your best to contain your tears. “I just didn’t understand. My parents were good people, what did they do to deserve this?”

Tsukishima looks at you warily, carefully thinking of what to say. You just looked so fragile to him. Ah, what is this feeling? I don’t want to see her sad. Ah, damnit, Kei. You just met the woman.

“H-hey, (l/n)-san, it’ll be alright. I mean, you did manage to survive, being with me. I mean not a lot of people approach me.” You blink and stare at him for a few seconds, then started laughing. “H-hey! Was that funny? That was supposed to be uplifting.”

“You need to socialize with people more, Tsukki. Leave your garden for a few hours, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

Tsukishima looked away, red staining his ears and cheeks, “I like gardening, okay? Plus if I leave I have a feeling you’ll steal all my flowers.”

You giggle, “This gardening is such an unexpected side of you. For someone “brooding” and “scary”, you’re such a gentle giant.”

Tsukishima’s blush turns a deeper red, “S-shut up, you’re more annoying than I thought.”

“Aw, is Tsukki embarrassed?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Ha! Tsukki is embarrassed! Haha!”

“Stop calling me Tsukki.”

“Tsukki, Tsukki!”

“You little-”

You laugh as you stand from your blanket, running away from him, not even bothering to put your shoes back on. He runs after you, silently cursing at himself for enjoying his time alone with you. The laughter coming from you and Tsukishima’s deep gruntles echo through the serene graveyard. Today was a good day.

---

check out my other works: ↳ ☆:.｡.masterlist.｡.:☆

[fourdaysofrain]

Stark Industries: An American Workplace

Summary: A doc crew follows around the staff of Stark Industries as they go about their lives. (The Office!AU)

(A little irondad, a little spideychelle, a lot of self-indulgence. Enjoy!)

Read on AO3

“No, I don’t--” The corner of Peter’s mouth twitches down and he looks at something behind the camera. “Mr. Stark doesn’t treat me any differently than the other employees. I don’t know why everyone says he does.” He tugs his sleeve down his wrist and looks to the side. “I’m the receptionist, so he has to talk to me more to like, plan his calendar and stuff.”

---

“Peter and Tony?” Flash’s eyes are wide and his hands flow in tune with his words. “First of all, he’s the only one who still calls him ‘Mr. Stark.’ Like, what is that? Even Ned calls him Tony now. He’s a really cool boss.” 

The camera cuts to Flash hesitating outside of Tony’s office.

“Seriously, it’s crazy. Things are so chill here.”

Flash walks to the door and puts his hand on the knob, ready to open, but jerks away and waves awkwardly when he sees Betty walking towards him.

“Zuckerberg wants what we have.”

---

Ned makes eye contact with a camera and motions for it to look at Peter. It pans and zooms onto the front desk, showing Peter tapping a pencil on his desk and staring into the distance. The camera follows his eyesight to MJ’s desk, where she is working on a hologram quietly. She looks at the camera, then flicks her eyes over to Peter and smirks. Peter drops his pencil and starts typing something into the keyboard.

The camera returns to Ned, who is stifling a laugh. He makes a heart with his hands and then mimes wiping a tear away from his cheek. Just behind him, on the edge of being out of view, Tony’s shoulders are shaking with mirth. 

---

“Peter Parker?” Tony Stark leans back in his chair and eyes the camera cooly. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

He grins as his eyes flick between the lens and something slightly to the left. “C’mon, I’m kidding, of course. I know all my employees.” His smile slowly softens as he adjusts his position before looking back to the camera. He clears his throat. “Peter Parker, he’s a recent hire. Not the newest though, Ned’s the newest-- Pete joined the team about half a year ago when I needed an extra set of hands. He’s got a good head on his shoulders.” 

Tony idly scratches his jaw. 

“He’s the receptionist, but I’ve seen what he can do when you put him in front of some tech. I’m keeping an eye on him.”

---

Peter’s busy fiddling with the highlighters in his cup when the door opens. He looks up and hesitates when he sees it’s Michelle. After a moment, he gives her a smile, which she returns easily. She heads directly to his desk and leans on the edge. 

“What is it today- yellow with blue or green with pink?” she asks as she leans over the outer façade of the reception desk and takes a highlighter from his pile. She twiddles it in her hands and looks at Peter through her lashes. 

He smiles at her and adds another highlighter to the cup. “Um, I’m actually trying a new thing today: all yellow.”

“Adventurous.”

“They only hire the best at Stark Industries,” Peter says with a smirk. 

Michelle laughs and tosses the highlighter back to him. 

---

“Peter’s smarter than at least half the R&D department here at SI, but for some reason, Tony wants to keep him as a receptionist rather than, I don’t know, a top engineer.” Michelle juts her chin out at the camera. “What? They’re really bad at trying to hide it. They do this thing, where whenever someone has a really shitty issue with one of their projects, Tony calls a meeting that Peter doesn’t go to, and then it’s magically fixed by the time we get out.” She rolls her eyes. “Then they both act like it just fixed itself. It’s ridiculous.”

Michelle sits quietly for a moment before adding, “What’s more ridiculous is how many times they’ve done it.”

---

Peter looks behind the camera pleadingly. “I’m the receptionist. That’s it. I promise.” He sighs and motions to the camera with his hand. “Trust me, I’m terrible at keeping secrets. If I was as smart as these guys, I wouldn’t shut up about it.” He laughs to himself. “MJ says it’s ‘cause everyone expects men to be smarter than they are. She’s normally right about that kind of stuff.”

---

Betty waves Michelle over to her table in the kitchen when she comes in to get a cup of coffee. 

“I saw Spider-Man again this morning,” she whispers over her salad. 

Michelle raises her eyebrows. “Again? That’s the third time this month, Betty.” 

“Yeah, well. Like I said, I started walking to work. I have more time to look around.” She leans in conspiratorily. “He’s always heading towards SI.”

“Don’t tell me you believe Flash.”

Betty laughs and sets her fork down. “I don’t believe him.” She tucks her hair behind her ear and raises her eyebrows at Michelle. “I also don’t not believe him.”

“Betty,” Michelle says, “Spider-Man wouldn’t work at SI. Have you seen the videos of him online? He’s kind of a dumbass.”

The camera pans to the door to the kitchen, where Peter is standing outside and peering in. Seeing the camera move to him, he quickly clears his throat and enters the room. 

“Hey--” His voice comes out as a squeak. He clears his throat again. “Hey, guys.”

“Peter, perfect!” Betty pushes her Tupperware away from herself, giving her more room to talk with her hands. “You talk to Tony all the time--”

“Not all the time,” he mutters. 

Betty ignores him. “Has he said anything to you about Spider-Man?”

Peter straightens immediately and looks to the side. “Oh, well. You know how he is, he’s really secretive about Avengers stuff. All I know is where he is during the workday. Sometimes I figure out where he’s going to eat dinner.” He laughs awkwardly, but quickly swallows it and looks into his empty mug when neither of the women laughs with him. 

“C’mon Peter, we won’t tell anyone.” Michelle raises her eyebrows at him as she pours herself a cup of coffee from the pot. 

“Okay,” he says after a few seconds. He moves his head to the side as he decides what to say. “Okay, but you can’t say anything about it.” 

Betty leans in from where she’s sitting at the table. 

Peter takes a deep breath. “He once said ‘she’ when talking about Spider-Man, so… I think Spider-Man’s a woman.”

He looks into the camera with a slight frown as Betty gasps. 

---

“Spider-Man’s not a woman,” Peter says. He cringes and looks at the camera out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t ask me how I know that.”

He rubs his forehead with his hand. “Or why I said that.”

--- 

“Really?” Betty puts her hand over her mouth. “Are you kidding, why hasn’t she said anything? That’d be so empowering for little girls who want to be superheroes!”

Michelle glances into the camera before looking back at Peter, unimpressed. “I don’t buy it. I think Stark was messing with you.” Betty flings her hands into the air and she sighs. “Fine. If Spider-Man is a woman, I respect her for Mulan-ing it.” She shrugs. “Gal’s gotta do what a gal’s gotta do.”

“Her voice is pretty masculine in the videos online though.” Betty puts her chin in her hands for a few seconds before she lights up with an idea. “Oh my God, it was like, super high pitched when she started out, what if Tony made her a voice modulator when he upgraded her suit?”

“It wasn’t--” Peter looks away and sets his mug on the counter. “Wasn’t that high,” he mumbles.

Michelle smirks at him then looks to Betty. “No, Betty, you’re totally right. Don’t tell Flash, or he’ll go even more Spidey-crazy.”

“God, that’s so badass, though.” Betty sighs and leans on her elbows. “I think I’m kind of in love with her.”

“Yeah, well.” Peter nervously laughs and mimes zipping his lips as he starts to open up the door back to the office. “You didn’t hear it from me.”

He leaves to go back to the desk and the camera zooms in on his forgotten mug, still empty.

---

“I’m only here because I heard Spider-Man works here.” Flash’s leg is bouncing and his eyes flitter around the room as he speaks. “Graduating from MIT Magna Cum Laude helps a lot, but y’know. Spider-Man’s my top priority. 

“He shows up sometimes. He brought us bagels last month.” He gives the camera a wolfish grin. “Peter and Ned missed out.”

---

“Flash already told you about Spider-Man bringing him bagels?” Ned rolls his eyes. “He never shuts up about it.” 

He looks behind the camera and scratches his temple. “I had a flat tire that day so I came in late. And me and Peter, we-- we carpool sometimes, so he wasn’t there either. I don’t mind. I see Spider-Man all the time. I uh-- I think my way home is on one of his patrol routes.” He glances to the side and then returns his gaze to the camera. “And, I mean, Iron Man’s my boss. So I have enough superheroes in my life already.”

---

Tony claps his hands as he enters the office. “Mornin’ everyone,” he announces as he continues to walk. “Let’s start off with a quick meeting. Conference room, five minutes.” He starts to enter the conference room but pauses to point a finger at Peter. “You too, Pete.” 

Peter looks up from his desk and nods.

Within a few minutes, everyone has filed into the conference room. Peter’s the last to walk in. He nervously looks for a chair before Michelle gets his attention and moves her jacket from the seat beside her to her lap. Peter smiles and sits down. 

“Alright. Good morning, SI,” Tony starts. He sucks air between his teeth quickly. “I know we don’t normally do these, but I figured I should keep you all in the loop.”

Flash raises his hand. “Is this about--”

Tony clears his throat and waves his hand to cut Flash off. He pointedly glances at Peter, who sits up a bit straighter. “No, this isn’t about Ned’s email. That can continue as normal.”

Peter looks around, but everyone else is nodding. He looks into the camera with a quirked brow for a moment, then looks back at Tony.

“This is regarding a recent threat of violence on SI.” The group looks around and starts to murmur. Tony quiets them by taking off his sunglasses and clearing his throat. “It’s credible, but there’s no need for anyone to worry. Just a few rogue chitauri. I’ve already briefed a few of the Avengers and the day will continue as normal.”

“So why are you telling us this?” Abraham asks from the back row. 

“I figured it’d be better to hear it from me before you see it outside the window.” Tony puts his sunglasses back on and sniffs. “That’s all, be sure to stay inside for lunch. I’ll keep you posted if anything changes.” He glances at Peter, then claps his hands together. “Let’s get to work!” 

Everyone slowly starts to get out of their chairs and head to the door. 

Tony points at Peter as he’s chatting with Michelle on his way out. “Pete, mind helping me change some reservations in my office?”

“Oh,” Peter says as he glances from Michelle to Tony. “Oh. Yeah, of course, Mr. Stark. I’ll be right over.” He looks back at Michelle and manages an apologetic smile. “Sorry, MJ. This’ll only take a second.” 

---

“I don’t think they’re secret meetings.” Peter rubs his knuckles along his jawline. “It’s just like, what’s the point of everyone being there if he’s just going to tell me that he wants to eat dinner with his wife at 7 o’clock instead of 8?”

---

Michelle sighs. “They’re totally secret meetings. Are we supposed to believe that changing reservations over the phone takes half an hour?” 

She looks down and then back to the camera. “If it were just Peter in there, I’d believe that. He’s a nervous wreck. But Stark has enough confidence for the both of them.”

---

Liz walks up to the receptionist’s desk where Peter’s typing something into the computer. She’s carrying something behind her back. She waves a hand to get his attention, but he’s focused on the screen. He doesn’t look up until she walks around the desk and is about to tap him on the shoulder. Right before her finger hits his shirt, he flinches and turns around in his seat. 

“Liz!” he yelps. “It’s just you!” He exhales and straightens out his shirt. “Sorry, I’ve been on edge with all this… chitauri stuff.”

She chuckles, a bit surprised by his reaction. “Okay, weirdo.” She walks back to the front of his desk. “I just wanted to say thank you for helping keep the office running smoothly.”

Liz smiles and puts a small potted cactus on the top of the counter. Peter stares at in for a second before responding.

“Is this real?” he asks with wide eyes. 

“Yeah,” she says through a laugh. “Of course, it’s real, Peter. So don’t poke it. And water it once a week! I’ll remind you.”

“Wow, thanks so much, Liz. I somehow inherited May’s black thumb, so I’ve never had a plant of my own before. I hope it doesn’t die!” He screws up his face. “Sorry, that was a really weird thing to say.”

“Yeah, that was kind of a downer.” She smiles at him. “Anyways, enjoy the plant. Thanks again.”

Peter watches as Liz returns to her desk. “You’re… welcome.” 

The camera zooms in on Michelle, who quickly looks away. 

---

“Yeah, so I told everyone it was Secretary’s Day today.” Ned runs his hand through his hair. ”I don’t know if that’s true, but I know no one here cares enough to check. Peter’s just been kinda stressed, ‘cause there’s a lot of…” He looks to the side and inhales. “Receptionist jobs that Tony’s been giving him recently. I wanted to do something to cheer him up.”

He waves his hands at the camera. “I promise I’m not being like, weird, or anything. We’ve been friends since high school! We blipped together!”

---

Peter’s going through documents when Tony’s door opens and he steps out. He quickly crosses over to the receptionist’s desk. 

“Hey, kid.” Tony puts an envelope on the surface of Peter’s desk and slides it towards him securely. “This is for you. Don’t spend it all in one place.”

Peter looks up from his work, but by the time he focuses on the envelope, Tony already left for his office. He finishes signing the paper he’s on and then grabs the envelope and tears it open. He stares at what’s inside for a few seconds before rushing to Tony’s office. 

“Holy shit, Mr. Stark, did you mean to put this many zeroes?”

---

“Yeah, sometimes you forget how rich your boss is when you work here.” Peter looks down and rubs his hand along his thigh. “Rich… and stubborn.” He looks back at the camera. “Anyways, if anyone has any recommendations for charities that aren’t like, corrupt, I have suddenly found myself with some extra cash.”

He looks away and says, almost to himself, “MJ probably knows some good ones.”

---

Peter finds Michelle in the break room. She straightens up and tightens her grip on her mug of tea. 

“Oh, Peter, I wanted to say--”

Peter cuts her off. “Wait, are you going to say something nice to me? Because like, that’s cool, but everyone’s been giving me things and complimenting me for no reason today and I’m kind of freaking out.”

“Oh.” She blushes. “Yeah, I was going to.”

“Not that--” Peter blanches. “Not that it’s a bad thing, I’m very grateful, but um, why?”

“Ned sent out an email to everyone that today’s Secretary’s Day? I looked it up, it’s actually in April, but he said you needed a pick-me-up, so…” She looks down at her tea. “Everyone’s been trying to help you feel better.”

Peter averts his eyes to the vending machine. He puts some coins in as he speaks. “Yeah, I guess I’ve been more stressed out than usual recently.” He warily smiles at Michelle. “Mr. Stark can be a lot sometimes.”

Michelle smiles back. “I can imagine. Being a billionaire must be so hard.” 

Peter opens his mouth to speak when Tony rushes in. He has a gauntlet on and his arc reactor is shining through his shirt. Peter instantly turns to face him.

“Hey, kid, time to--” He stops for a second when he sees Michelle sitting in the room. 

He straightens out his shirt and puts his gauntlet behind his back as if that’ll make Michelle forget she saw it. His voice is quiet but tense when he continues. 

“You know those files I needed you to pick up from down the street?” Tony asks pointedly. He flicks his eyes to Michelle and then back to Peter. ”Time to go grab ‘em.” 

He motions his head to the side and then leaves the break room. Peter looks to Michelle, back to where Tony was standing, and finally at the vending machine. Michelle raises her eyebrows at him. 

“Sorry, that’s…” He rubs the back of his neck and shifts his weight from side to side. “Those documents are really time-sensitive, so I gotta go.” He starts to follow Tony. 

Michelle watches his receding form in shock. 

”Get something from the vending machine, on me! There’s like, 75 cents in there already!” he yells behind him. 

She stares at the empty doorframe for a second before flicking her eyes to the camera. After a few beats, she gets up and walks to the vending machine. 

---

“Orange soda,” Michelle says, holding up a can. “Thanks for asking. It’d taste weird after my peppermint tea, so I’ll just save it for Peter. He likes ‘em.”

She looks away. “I had to put a few more quarters in to buy it, but he can pay me back later. You know how… exhausting walking down the street and back can be.”

---

“Holy shit, Spider-Man’s out there!” Flash yells from the windows by Abraham’s desk. 

“All the Avengers are there, of course Spider-Man’s with them,” Abraham replies. He pushes his chair back so Flash has to dodge out of the way before standing and pushing the blinds aside.

The camera pushes past the group to see a sliver of the window. As it adjusts to the brightness of the sky, a few blurry forms can be seen flying through the air. A few are discernible as Spider-Man and Iron Man. 

Betty walks over from across the room to peer outside. “Wow, Spider-Man really is amazing. I wish I could be bitten by a radioactive spider.”

“I actually read an article that quoted Sam Wilson saying he was born with his powers, not bitten,” Liz added, joining the quickly-forming group at the window. 

“Peter would probably know.” Betty pulls back from the window to look at the receptionist’s desk, which is empty. “Hey, where’s Peter?”

Michelle walks out of the break room with an empty tea mug and a can of soda. “Tony sent him out a few minutes ago, he needed to pick up some documents from down the street or something.” She raises her eyebrows at the camera as she sets the soda down on Peter’s desk. 

“That’s pretty irresponsible of him,” Liz mutters as she watches the fight going on outside.

“Hey, guys?” Ned yells from the other side of the room with a hand over his phone’s microphone. “I’m on a really important phone call right now, do you mind quieting down?”

The others nod and go back to their desks. The camera focuses on Ned’s computer screen, which is open to a webpage about the chitauri. He quickly closes the tab and glares at the camera. 

---

“I have a roommate who’s really into D&D.” Ned’s eyes slide to the side. “And now that aliens are real, he wants to implement them into his campaign. That’s why I was looking them up.” 

He snaps his gaze back to the camera. “That’s also who I was talking to on the phone. He just really, really needed to know the chitauri’s weak spot. For his D&D campaign.”

---

Peter walks into the office two hours later with his clothes slightly askew. His hair is sticking out more wildly than it normally does and his shoes are scuffed. He groans and rubs his ribs as he sits in his chair. He smiles when he sees the orange soda sitting on his desk and looks over to Michelle, who’s already on her way over. 

She leans on the counter. “So, did a bus run you over once you picked up those documents, or…”

“No,” Peter says stiffly, “I actually got caught up in the fight. Crazy, right? Thank God Mr. Stark was there, he found me a safe place to hide until it was safe.” He chuckles and looks away.

“Right,” Michelle repeats, “crazy.”

“Um, anyways.” Peter bites the inside of his cheek and looks up at Michelle. “Mr. Stark’s taking the rest of the day off, so we can totally leave early if you want.”

Michelle looks over her shoulder at her desk. “Oh, I don’t know, I have so many models to render.” She looks back at Peter and smiles. “Let me grab my coat and we can walk down together.”

---

“MJ’s great.” Peter rubs his torso and looks squarely at the camera. “She’s awesome. Sometimes I catch her looking at me and… I don’t know.”

As Peter talks, the camera cuts to a scene from earlier in the day. Everyone is crowded around the window trying to catch a peek of one of the Avengers. Michelle is sitting at her desk and staring at the can of soda on Peter’s desk.

He chuckles sardonically. “Who’s got time for some random receptionist, right?”

---

“Which car is yours?” Peter has his hands deep in the pockets of his winter coat. 

Michelle points across the parking lot. “The blue one over there.”

“Thank you for saying the color, I know nothing about cars,” Peter jokes. 

They smile at each other for a second before Peter’s smile falls. Michelle’s follows suit. 

“Um, listen, MJ.” Peter pulls his hands out of his pockets and rubs his shoulder. “I’m…” He trails off for a second and lets himself stare at Michelle. She looks back at him expectantly. 

The camera zooms out; they’re alone in the parking lot.

Peter snorts and looks away, unfreezing from his position. “Uh, I just wanted to thank you for the soda.”

Michelle smiles at him. “Anytime. Happy Secretary’s Day.” 

“Am I actually a secretary? Are secretaries different than receptionists?” Peter asks as he shoves his hands back into his pockets. 

“Boh,” is Michelle’s only response. 

Peter grins at her. “Well said.” He looks down at his feet for a second. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Okay, MJ?”

She smiles and shrugs halfheartedly. “Maybe. Depends on if my apartment got destroyed or not.”

“I’m sure it’s okay.” He gives her a sarcastic salute. “Adiós.” 

Michelle snorts. “Bye, loser.”

---

Michelle looks down from the camera and sighs. After a few moments, she looks back into the lens. 

“Yeah, of course I know he’s Spider-Man. Him, Ned, and Stark are really obvious.” Her gaze moves to behind the camera and she gives a small, soft smile. “He’s sweet, though. His secret’s safe with me.”

Tag List: @ironfamjam​ @addi-is-amazing​ @mysterio-is-a-little-bitch​ @wellplacedbanana​ @night0seven​ @unfathomable-universe​​ @bibbidi-bobbity-booyah​ @spideynamu​ 

[breakingsomething]

french toast

basic summary: jameson makes breakfast.

trigger warnings: read the tags! i was worried putting the warnings here would spoil the fic, so look in the tags if you want to know :)

the sun came up the same every morning. five am exactly, jameson knew. time was something he was intimately familiar with in a way he couldn't explain. it ran through his veins with his blood. it rang in his ears every second of the day. it burned in his fingers and warmed every tear that he spilled. he owned it. there wasn't another man living who was as powerful as he was.

and nobody knew it but him.

it was far too cold in the bed. jameson couldn't feel anti beside him. that wasn't unusual, or normally wouldn't be, except for the fact that it was very early and he knew anti hadn't gone to bed until just past two. he'd heard him having a nightmare at twenty past three. after that he'd gone silent, and jameson had properly slept. now, he sat up, blinking and rubbing his eyes, adjusting to the empty, slowly lightening room. he wished they has curtains, but he supposed beggars couldn't be choosers when it came to a situation like theirs.

looking around, it made him wonder what the creator's boys were doing right now. probably all still sleeping, maybe eating food that they hadn't stolen or fought tooth and nail for. maybe when they woke, they'd take a shower without worrying about the hot water bill for a house not registered under their name. maybe they'd dress in clothes they picked out themselves. maybe they'd spend the day thinking of pastries and youtube videos and magic and jewelry and whatever else people thought of. not a thought to be spared for anyone else. jameson almost snorted at the thought.

his bare feet padded to the door, the silence almost deafening. his heart raced in his ears. a-n-t-i? he knocked on the doorframe, to which he got no response. probably for the best. definitely for the best. gave jameson a bit more time.

he went over to the cupboard and quickly pulled on some proper clothes, a blue hoodie and black tracksuit bottoms with mismatched socks that had holes at the top. drank some water that he'd left on his bedside. then he pulled out something that he'd hidden in between his sketchbook pages and slipped it in his pocket, along with something else that he'd hidden in his shoes. just as precautions. eventually, he went to the bathroom and quickly brushed his hair with his fingers before slowly making his way downstairs.

anti was sitting at the kitchen table. he didn't look up when jameson came in, though; he was slumped over with his face in his arms, whistling softly in his sleep. jameson wasn't used to seeing him in just a t-shirt, and for a moment he just stared at his ink black tattoos, marred by raised pink scars from an event jameson hadn't been around to witness, which he was grateful for. anti's hair was getting long too, falling in curls around his freckled face. right now, it was almost hard to look at him and see him as a manipulative murderer, a torturer, an actor and a kidnapper and a liar and a thief. but jameson knew he was. he always had been.

he wished he could have seen it earlier.

he made breakfast. he'd managed to convince anti that he wanted to try his hand at cooking, and his brother had relented after just a few days of begging for ingredients. eggs, vanilla extract, yoghurt and berries - french toast was on the menu this morning. by the time anti had slowly begun to stir, the scent had filled the warm kitchen, making the house that wasn't theirs feel so much more cosy. anti yawned, shaking his arms out and wincing. jameson watched him with a raised eyebrow and a soft smile, waiting for his brother to notice him.

it took a moment before he did. "oh - morning, dap," anti mumbled, scrubbing sleep from his eyes. "what the fuck're you… it's, like, six am, shouldn't even you still be asleep?"

jameson grinned, holding up the two plates he'd already set up and placing the left one proudly in front of anti. "toast," he signed as soon as he had both hands free. "french toast. also, i'm an early bird. figured i'd use my time well."

he sat at the table and slid a fork across the table to a surprised anti, who caught it and stared down at his plate in amazement. "you absolute mad lad, dapper," he grinned, brown eyes flashing. "i knew it was a good idea to let you buy all that shit."

that was bullshit. anti hadn't wanted to buy it at all, and jameson had had to behave perfectly to his older brother's standards in order to get it. like a dog being rewarded with a treat. jameson bit his lip hard and didn't respond, forcing a smile onto his face.

they dug in, the two of them eating in relative silence as a conversation was difficult to have when one party couldn't speak without their hands. jameson tapped the edge of his plate with his fork, the sound ringing out in the quiet. his hoodie pocket felt suddenly very heavy, despite it now being lighter than before.

"doing anything today?" he asked once he'd eaten a few bites, setting the fork down at the side. he didn't feel very hungry. anti bobbed his head and held up a hand while he swallowed, coughing into his hand immediately after.

"i have to go shopping soon, actually," he said, drumming his fingers on the table to a tune jameson didn't recognize. "do we need anything specific? i can definitely get more of this shit if we need any, ha. i know we need, uhh… fuck, my head hurts and i don't remember shit." he closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. "d'you know, dap? anything important?"

jameson waited for anti to remember that he wouldn't be able to hear his brother's reply and sheepishly open his eyes before responding. "i don't think we'll need anything. as far as i'm aware, it's all taken care of."

anti furrowed his brows, frowning. "i'm sure we… needed something. i dunno what it was." he yawned again, shivering. "christ, it's gotten dead cold in here. and for some reason, i'm still tired as shit."

"why'd you sleep down here?" jameson asked. might as well ask. anti did love to talk about himself.

it took the man a moment to respond, and when he did, his voice was slightly slurred. "had a weird fuckin' dream, didn't wanna be 'round you. was gonna sleep on the couch, but i came in here for water 'n i fell 'sleep…" he suddenly coughed again, doubling over and covering his face. when he sat up again, he had gone very pale, hair sticking to his face with sweat. "shit, i don't… don't feel well, what th'fuck…"

this time when he coughed, his hands came away from his mouth red. "fuck!" he swore, trying to stagger to his feet. but his legs gave out beneath him and he crumpled to the floor, gasping and wheezing. "fuck, fuck, i'm - dap, help me up, shit!"

jameson watched calmly from his place at the table. anti looked up with desperate eyes that widened as he saw his brother's blank expression, pupils dilating to pinpricks. "dap?" he rasped, retching with a hand clamped over his mouth. "wh-what the fuck did you -"

"a-r-s-e-n-i-c," jameson signed with a smile. his movements were smooth and deliberate in comparison to anti's pained thrashing. "i went classic. there was enough in there to kill a man in half an hour, i'd say. i'm surprised you didn't taste it. you may be experiencing nausea and vomiting, muscle cramps, dizziness, abnormal heart rhythm, sudden convulsions…"

he trailed off, smirking as anti clawed at his throat, gasping for breath and gagging. jameson wasn't even sure the man could see his signs anymore. "y-you fucking - you poisoned me?" anti stammered, wrapping his arms round his stomach and paling even further. "christ, well, that's a first -"

jameson grimaced in disgust as anti threw up without warning, still coughing afterwards. "gross," the time traveler signed, screwing up his face. "die with a little dignity, anti."

anti looked up in time to catch the last few words, although by this point jameson supposed his vision had blurred enough that he couldn't see very well. nevertheless, he managed to sit himself up, wiping spit off his chin. "you want me - why the fuck d'you want me dead?" he managed. his arm twitched wildly, and he gasped in pain. jameson watched him clutch at the counter, trying to pull himself up. "i g-gave you everything, you unappreciative shit, what is wrong with - you f-fucking -"

he suddenly spasmed, and jameson sighed. "oh dear," he signed, despite anti not being able to see him. "it appears you've reached the stage of convulsing and seizures. that's not good, especially with your epilepsy, is it?"

anti choked, and jameson laughed without noise, pulling his phone from his pocket and quickly typing into the text to speech box. he wanted anti to hear what he had to say. "you say you gave me everything," the monotone male voice spoke. "then why am i always in pain? why are you always hurting me, one way or another? why do you treat me like i'm less than you?"

"i - love you, you b-b-bastard," anti gasped, stopping to cry out in pain as he convulsed. "i do, tha-that's nottalie, swear, swear, stop it, stop -"

jameson had finished typing his next lines by that point. "you always say you love me but you don't fucking show it. buying me sketchbooks and ingredients for meals doesn't count as love." his fingers flew across the keyboard. "love is not hurting someone just because you want to. love is not demeaning someone and making them feel small and worthless. love is not stepping on someone to elevate yourself. love is not hurt. love is not you."

"no, no, no," anti mumbled, curling up on the floor, hissing through his teeth. "i - i - you don't underst-t-tand - protect, trying to protect, ah, ah, nngh, i'm - dap -"

"and there's another thing," the voice said cooly. "my name isn't dapper. it's jameson jackson. you don't notice anything, do you, anti? this wasn't a sudden rebellion."

"a li'l p-poison isn't gonna kill me," anti laughed hoarsely.

jameson stood. "no," he signed. "but this will."

he pulled the other item from his pocket, slowly, so anti could take it in. he smirked as his brother's breath hitched at the sight of the silver kitchen knife, reflecting the light from the window above the counter. the reaction was so satisfying to watch.

"y-you're gonna stab m-me, eh?" anti tried to laugh again, but it came out more like a weak whimper. he retched again, head slamming against the wall as he twitched. "f-feels like it's f-fitting that you'd b-be - be the one to kill me. if anyone did, you-you're not - the worst choice."

jameson rolled his eyes. "sure." then he leaned down and pressed his knife to anti's bandaged throat. "anything else to say?"

anti was still shaking, blood dribbling from his mouth. but his eyes, flickering from colour to colour and eventually coming to rest on grey to match his brothers, were full of an emotion that jameson didn't understand. "didn't mean to - you - i -" he threw his head back, whimpering with pain. "b-b-bastard, i - fuck -"

jameson didn't let him get any further.

once it was over, jameson slumped back against the kitchen cupboards, staring off into the living room with unfocused eyes. he'd done it. why didn't he feel happier, more free? why did he feel more trapped than ever?

his hands were red.

he washed them. ten times over. then he took a shower and changed his clothes. he stared at his reflection for a full half hour, lost in thought, hands shaking as his nails dug into his palm.

anti was still on the floor when he went back downstairs. fuck, best get rid of him. jameson crouched down next to him and pressed a hand to his brother's chest. with closed eyes, he let the magic channel through him, burning his skin, burning anti's skin, crushing him under the weight of time itself. several minutes passed, and by the end of it, anti's body was gone. eaten away, dissolved.

jameson didn't feel lighter. really, he felt so much heavier. like he'd gone swimming in a full denim outfit. like he'd gone swimming with rocks in his pockets. like he'd - like he'd just killed his brother. there was no sugarcoating it.

it had felt good. jameson had never been more disgusted with himself.

what would he do now? there was no where else to turn. no one else to go to. except - jameson narrowed his eyes. no one else but the creator's boys. the one's who'd called themselves his brothers. the one's who'd left him with anti. they'd left him with anti, they'd left him with - they'd left him here. they'd been too fucking cowardly to come save him.

jameson picked up the knife from the place anti's body had been. maybe he had something he could do after all. loose ends to tie up. more brothers to put in their places.

his hands weren't red anymore. they felt red.

jameson's french toast had gone cold.

[quackeroos]

ONE WEEK || Day Four

Pairing: tom holland x dying ex!reader

Summary: you were dying, and tom still loves you. now he plans on loving you ‘til your last breath, and maybe get you to say those three words back to him.

Warnings: swearing, angst

Words: 4.9k

*gif is not mine!

General Masterlist | Series Masterlist

EYES SQUINTING, Y/N WOKE UP with the sun shining on her face. The blinds were open, and she groaned at the blinding rays of light. She never really was a fan of the morning sun. Well, when it came to waking her up, of course. She very much preferred watching it set rather than blinding her eyes.

Her body decided to wake up, a little early than her usual wake up time. Stretching her muscles felt good, she could feel her joints pop and give her that relaxing feeling. Blinking, her eyes wandered around her surroundings. It was weird, nobody was with her. She expected to see Tom laying down on the couch and her sister on the little spare bed beside hers, but instead, she was all alone. Her hand reached for her phone and rang their contact numbers. It immediately went to voicemail.

She tried ringing Tom's phone for the fourth time, still no answer. "Where could he have gone?" she hears the door open, her head turns at the source, expecting a curly haired brunette walk out of the shadows. "Tom?" she called out. But instead of Tom, it was someone else.

"Bold of you to assume I'm a guy, N/n." a giggle escapes her mouth, it was only Jamie.

"You look disappointed, what's wrong?" her sister approaches her bed bringing along some of the stuff she got. Y/n shakes her head. "Never mind that. So, where have you been? And what's with all the paper bags?"

"Just thought of buying a few outfits for us. I even sneaked this pass your nurses." Jamie opens the lid of the takeout she bought. Pancakes and Waffles. A grin makes it way up to her mouth, but falters at the sudden realization. "You know I can't." sadness in the tone of her voice was evident.

"Oh nonsense! I say that today is your cheat day, and that my sister should have a bit of freedom. Now here, eat." She pushes the breakfast plate towards her and gave her the maple syrup. Y/n ponders for a moment. Should she or should she not? It looked so good, but it could risk her health even more. One sweet breakfast couldn't hurt, right?

Still having second thoughts, she reluctantly takes the fork and knife, digging into the maple syrup covered carb meal. The sweet taste melted in her mouth, and she loved it. She missed the flavour of every dessert, sugar, and fast food she ate. She hated her diet, oh how much she missed living normal. "Good, right? Tom told me you'd like it." This caught her attention. Her face looked up from the plate, a little drop of maple syrup on her lips.

"What?"

"What?" her sister parroted. Y/n wasn't at all phased. Her eyes squinted at her while Jamie still pretended to not say anything. "Just go and eat your breakfast, I'm taking you to a trip around the hospital after."

***

"Can't we just stay in the room? I really wanna finish my sit-com marathon."

"Oh, quit you're whining! You should get out of that room more. It's suffocating in there." Y/n rolled her eyes at her sister. She sounded a lot like their Mum, and Y/n could already picture it out in her head. Jamie did take after their mother's looks and a bit of her mannerisms, and on their Dad's side, she got more of his personality. She stifled a laugh while looking at her sister. Jamie gives her a confused look. "What are you laughing at?" she asked.

"Nothing. You just sounded like Mum." Jamie gives her a sarcastic laugh and continues pushing. Y/n hadn't taken this route before though. The siblings pass through a skybridge leading towards the other building of the hospital. Her head craned and looked up at her sister, "Where are we even going?" She asked.

A smirk appears on her face. "You'll see."

The once transparent walls were changed into colorful walls painted with rainbows, flowers, butterflies and stars. This must be the children's ward. Y/n thought. The two pushed through two doors, leading to what seems "An activity center?" The girl spoke aloud. The venue was filled with a mix of teens and children, sick children. "Why in the world did you bring me to an activity center filled with children?" Jamie only looked at her with a hint of excitement in her eyes. Music blasted through the speakers and two familiar faces walked out from the makeshift stage.

"What's up guys! /Hello everyone!" the two greeted, waving to the crowd of children who also seemed to be hyped up. "I'm Jacob and this is my good friend Zendaya." The kids reply in chorus, waving at them saying 'Hi'

"So today we have a very special surprise for you guys! Do you like surprises?" Another enthusiastic reply from the young crowd, which brings a smile to Zendaya and Jacob's faces. At a far distance, Y/n could see a mop of curly ginger-brown hair holding a camera. It was Harry. Y/n could smell something fishy. The smirk her sister gave, Jacob and Zendaya's sudden appearance, Harry filming. She didn't want to go with her gut feeling. Y/n wanted to leave but at the same time, she wanted to stay and see where this was headed. "So, do you guys like heroes?" Jacob directed the mic towards the crowd and everyone in the room replied with another 'Yes'

"You know what Z? I'm not gonna delay this any longer. Everyone please welcome, our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!" the doors burst open and music played as the figure made an entrance. He momentarily glances at Y/n. Although the person was masked, she could feel his smile radiating. She knew exactly who it was behind it. Spider-Man did a flip, making the children around him wow and cheer at awe. "Hey! What's up everybody?" more cheers from the audience. He removes the red mask and his long brown curls flopped on his forehead, making him bring his hand up and brush through it. It was a signature move he did that Y/n loved, she still does, she's not gonna deny that. The Kingsleigh Sisters stayed all throughout the little meet and greet. Some stories and laughs were shared between Tom and his fans. She could tell he loved it, his job, his fans, everything. And when it was time for him to go, Tom lifts his mic.

"But before that, I'm gonna sing a song for you guys. Some of you might know this, so go ahead and sing along if you'd like." Sam takes out a mic stand while Tuwaine hands him a caramel colored guitar. Y/n recognizes the familiar instrument. She could feel her heart clench. Thousands of songs were played with it, and so many memories held in that guitar, both good and bad ones. She then started to wonder, did Tom ever stopped playing after everything that had happened?

The man positioned himself behind the mic, his guitar hanging around him with a strap to keep it's hold. He played a few chords to see if it was in tune, before he talks through the microphone. "This song is called, Introducing Me." Y/n hears a few of them gasp, most of it coming from the teenagers.

Tom starts strumming the intro, biting his lip a bit and smiling as he does. A few of the audience starts to sing along with him, their phones raised up, ready to record everything.

"I'm good at wasting time I think lyrics need to rhyme And you're not asking But I'm trying to grow a mustache I eat cheese, but only on pizza please Sometimes, on a homemade quesadilla Otherwise it smells like feet to me,"

She remembers one time, when they went out on a date, Tom insisted not to order anything that has a lot of cheese. It didn't sit well with his stomach and he heavily dislike the smell. And like the song, he only accepts it on pizzas.

"And I, I really like it when the moon looks like a toenail And I love you when you say my name"

Tom looks up from the crowd and finds the pair of e/c he loved looking into. Although she was far, he caught her staring back. Y/n didn't know what to feel. At the exact moment he said those three words, he looked at her. Her heart starts beating to the same beat to the song.

"If you wanna know Here it goes Gonna tell you this The part of me that shows if you're close Gonna let you see everything But remember that you asked for it I'll try to do my best to impress"

The song takes her way back to high school. It was lunch time, and hundreds of students were there to witness it. In the middle of the cafeteria, he stood there on the table, facing her, serenading her in front of everyone. And here they are now, nine years later, in front of a crowd, doing the exact same thing that made her see what could be if she said yes to him.

"But it's easier to let you take a guess at the rest But you wanna hear what lives in my brain My heart, will you ask for it For your perusing At times confusing, slightly amusing Introducing me"

His little humming to the tune made her giggle, Y/n found it very cute, with his head moving to it, it was double the times better. When it came to the second verse, he strummed faster, the lyrics also matching with his pace.

"I never trust a dog to watch my food And I like to use to the word "dude" As a noun, or an adverb, or an adjective And I've never really been into cars I like really cool guitars and superheroes And checks with lots of zeros on 'em"

Tom walks towards the audience area, serving his fans with a few smiles for them and for the cameras on their phones. Harry followed behind his brother, documenting everything with his camera.

"I love the sounds of violins And making someone smile"

His goofy face made her smile. A sweet and genuine smile. It was more than enough for Tom to send him to the seventh heaven. The corners of her eyes crinkled, cheeks blushed and face fully glowing. How he wished he could see her like this every day. He continues with the chorus, circling the fans, and from time to time, he would glance at Harry's camera. The bridge part of the song came, and little by little, y/n notices Tom coming towards her. Jamie moved back to give the two their limelight, her giddy smile evident on her face.

"So, if you wanna know, here it goes Gonna tell ya there's a part of me that shows If were close gonna let you see everything But remember that you asked for it I'm trying to do my best to impress

But it's easier to let you take a guess at the rest But you wanna hear what lives in my brain, in my heart Well, you asked for it."

At this point, y/n was already melting in her seat. Tom continued strumming, his left hand skillfully moving from one chord to the other on the neck of the guitar, all the while his gaze was focused on her. The crowd of children, teenagers, nurses and guardians all directed their attention towards the two, not only them but their group of friends too, and Harry at the side still holding his camera with a grin on his face.

"For your perusing At times confusing Hopefully amusing Introducing me" He slowly kneels on one knee, a cheeky grin plastered on his face. The brown locks on top of his head flopped on his forehead and droplets of sweat glimmered in the fluorescent lights. Being a habit of hers, her hands lift up and brush through his hair. The brown locks slicked back and stayed with the few waxes left in its hold.

"Introducing me."

Heavy breaths came out of him, his hands were a bit sore, and his head felt a little fuzzy. But it was fine for him, because the butterflies he felt in his stomach and the immense pounding of his heart both in exhaustion and adoration made it alright. Tom heard claps in the background, but he never turned. He just wanted to be with her and the moment that they have right then and there.

"You're shaking, Tom." She spoke softly. He couldn't feel it himself, but Y/n could see him trembling a bit. Probably because of the exhaustion his body had intake. Tom only smiled and dismissed the fact. "It's alright. I'm not gonna pass out I promise." A soft giggle escapes her lips. "Is this the reason why I haven't seen and heard of you all morning?"

"Yeah. But that was only the opening act." A smirk formed on his lips and pushed back the stray hair on her face. He quickly left and went back to the stage, thanking everyone who came and the hospital for having them. Y/n was left dumbfounded and confused. What did he mean 'that was only the opening act' ?

***

Tom quickly went to go to a nearby restroom and change back into his casual clothes, hurrying as he fixes his pants and combs through his hair. Sam was outside, waiting with a bouquet of Yarrows, and Harry waited with his twin, holding his brother's guitar. "So, now what do you do?" He asked his sibling from the door, and it opened to reveal a fresh-faced Tom. His hand runs through his hair, grabbing the bouquet in the other.

"Phase One: Nostalgia"

***

Jamie helped her change into the clothes she bought her. Y/n shivered at the cold air that was hitting her skin. She wasn't used exposing her skin that much, unlike a few years ago. Now, it felt like she was living in the Arctic Ocean. The air in her hospital room combined with the cold London air was not helping her condition at all. "Why do I have to wear a dress?" she questioned her sister, irritation visible in her tone.

"Because...."

She waited for her to continue, but Jamie only kept silent and fixed her hair. "Because what?" she urged on. "Oh, you'll find out soon." Her eyebrow perked up. She had a gut feeling this had something to do with Tom. It had only been a few hours since she had last seen him. And with the last sentence he had told her, made her mind run in circles and her gut clench that maybe what Jamie was doing was all part of it.

It all connected, but she had to find out if it really was true. So she let Jamie do her hair while she sat comfortably in her wheelchair, watching the telly in her hospital room. The younger Kingsleigh was already half through when her phone beeped from her pocket. She skillfully holds all three strands in one hand while using the other to open her phone and read the text message Harry had sent her.

Curlz™ Tom's done changing. We're heading to the car.  Is everything set? 

Jamie Jamz 🍯🍓 She's almost done.  You got her exit permits?

Curlz™ Yup. Gtg.  We still need to set up everything before she comes.

Jamie Jamz 🍯🍓 See ya later curlios read 12:28 pm 

Jamie tucked away her phone and continued braiding the small section of her sister's hair. Y/n wasn't really a fan of her hair being tied up, she preferred it free from bands and bobby pins. But Jamie loved doing her hair, so on rare occasions, she lets her do hers. Once Jamie was done, she let Y/n look of her final look in the mirror. the sides of her hair were braided but it was loose, just as she requested. The remaining locks trailed down her shoulders felt free to her liking. "It's perfect. Thank you Jams."

"Glad you like it. Now come on, we gotta go. the car's waiting."

She blinks in confusion. "Wait, a car? I thought I wasn't supposed to leave before my surgery?"

"Nothing's impossible, darling. We've made a little arrangement. And besides, you have 48 hours before your surgery. Let's make the most of it, yeah?" Jamie excitedly pushes her wheelchair and they left the room.

***

Y/n couldn't see anything. After boarding the car, her eyes were immediately covered with a blindfold. She could feel Jamie at her side and another person beside her. She assumed it was the nurse that usually takes care of her, the one before Daisy. Harriet, she thinks her names was.

"Jamie, where the hell are you taking me right now?" She was getting impatient. They had been in the car for almost thirty minutes and they still haven't arrived at their destination, wherever it was. "Having some trouble with the directions. Don't worry, we'll be there in ten minutes tops." and in ten minutes, they did.

Y/n was carried down and placed on her wheelchair, Jamie pushing her to who knows where. She took in a deep breath. Oxygen, fresh oxygen. Not the air from the hospital or from the tanks, this one was pure oxygen. She had a guess, that they were in a park, maybe? The sounds of birds chirping, the smell of flowers, and the feeling of grass slightly hitting her skin made her think so. The next thing she knew, the cloth was removed from her eyes, and now she could see everything.

Her hunch was right, she was in a park. The park where Tom took her on their first date. "Surprise!" A deep voice said behind her. She turned her head around and found a pair of blue eyes looking back at her with a charming smile. "Harrison? I thought you had a photoshoot today?"

"We ended earlier than expected. And besides, I wouldn't miss this one for the whole world. Let's take a walk, yeah?" He grabs the handlebars and pushes her wheelchair, moving slowly to appreciate the view more. She inhaled a deep breath, nostalgia filled it. Memories flooded back in from their first date to their last one. Those were the only things that ran inside her head for the past few days. The smell of his hair, his cute laughs, dates, fights, kisses and everything they did together. Ever since Tom unexpectedly came to her room and back in her life, it was nothing but pure nostalgia and memories.

Now, she finally understood it. She really did miss him after all these years.

"Feels great to be finally out huh?" Harrison spoke. She hums in reply.

"Even if it's just for today, this is even better than the rooftop garden."

"And it's about to get even better." Harrison leaned down to whisper in her ear and his head nods forward. Her line of sight followed the direction and there she saw Tom, inside a big white playpen filled with dogs, there were at least ten or more of them in different breeds. Harrison can see the sparkle in her eyes, and he smiled when he saw the old Y/n at that moment.

The blonde pushed her towards the gate of the playpen, and when she was already near, dogs start to come up to her and their tails wagged in excitement. Tom notices her at the gate, cooing at the little ones while her hand reached out to them. He stands up, dusts himself off and jogs towards her. "Wanna come and meet them?" he asks her. Tom smiled when she nodded. He stuck his foot at the other side of the playpen and slid his arms under her legs and her small back. He carried her gently and placed her on one of the small cushions.

Dogs of different breeds and sizes came running up to her, smothering her with licks and pouncing on her. Y/n's giggles were the only things he could hear at the moment. Those beautiful giggles he loved to hear. It sounded so melodic; he couldn't get enough of it.

He couldn't get enough of her.

"Tom?" he was pulled back from his thoughts. Y/n was staring up at him, a golden retriever sat on her lap while a few other dogs laid under her hand as she scratched their heads. She patted the other cushion beside her, inviting him to sit down. As soon as he sat down a certain dog came up to him, running with a smile, tongue out. Y/n's face beamed up as soon as she saw her. "You brought Tessa!" The staffy's ears perked up upon hearing her name, she pounced on Y/n and licked her, tail wagging a mile per minute.

"Aww I've missed you sweet angel!" She cooed. Tessa barked; happiness etched on her adorable face.

"I figured I'd bring Tessa. She's been playing with that toy you brought her, never wanted to let go of if." Tom said from the said as he leaned in and scratches his dog's head. So close, her mind warned. His scent filled her nose. That familiar scent that was unique that reminded her that this was her Tom. "Would've been nice though if Haz brought Monty along."

"I'll ask him next time. In the meantime, let's eat." He pulls out a picnic basket from behind and opens it, revealing various snacks that she could eat without having to break her diet.

Her eyebrow quirked up, "You planned this out, didn't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I just happen to find this hiding behind my back."

"Whatever you say. Hey, do me a favour though, pass me that..." she points to the opened basket and one particular pastry was in view. The croissant.

His eyes squinted at Y/n, who was trying to contain her laughter. "Going for the old jokes huh? You pronounce it like that to you know!"

"Yeah. But it's not as lame as yours, Quackson." Tom rolled his eyes and lets out a sigh. Still as childish as ever. Tom took out a pack of dog treats and whistles. Dogs around the playpen immediately run towards Tom and it then are became a food frenzy. "I honestly still can't believe this. Where in the world did you get so many dogs? You didn't kidnap them, did you?"

"I asked a dog shelter I was sponsoring to lend them for a bit. They needed to go out and have a walk anyway, so I thought I might just let them play around. Honestly y/n, you think I'm that bad? And here I thought you knew me better than anyone else."

"Alright, alright, no need to get sappy on me Movie Star."

The corners of his mouth curls and he bites his lip to try and suppress the forming smile. Y/n could see this from her peripheral vision, and she turns around to face him. "What?" Tom just shakes his head and chuckles softly. "Nothing." She had still remembered that darn nickname. He hated being called like that, Movie Star, Big shot, most specially by his father. But with y/n, he didn't mind it. Well, just a little.

"You did great earlier, by the way. I'm glad you never stopped playing."

"Yeah, I'm glad I didn't too." he breathed out.

Y/n puts both hands on her lap. "I have a special request though, if you don't mind playing right now."

Tom waves his hand and moments later, Harrison jogs towards them with Tom's guitar in hand. "Wow, you really prepared for this."

Tom lets out a dry laugh. "Not gonna lie about this one. I was actually gonna do a concert for the kids earlier, But I figured I'd might as well do it for you instead." He puts the strap on and strums the strings, just in the right tune. "So, what song?"

"You choose. You know I'd enjoy anything you play."

And so, Tom positioned himself, sitting crisscrossed and facing her. She silently waits for him while he was choosing a song in his head. His face lit up and he starts strumming, humming the intro. Y/n immediately remembers the song and a grin makes it way up to her face. The song was her favourite, and Tom played it often, so it wasn't hard for her to recognize it. Tom matched her grin and continued playing.

"I'll hold the door Please come in and just sit here for a while. This is my way of telling you I need you in my life."

The next thing y/n did surprised Tom, in a good way. He never thought he'd be hearing her sing along with him again.

"It's so cold without your touch. I've been dreaming way too much Can we just turn this into reality.

And the two sang, hearts beating as one.

"Cause I've been thinking 'bout you lately. Maybe you could save me from this crazy world we live in. And I know we could happen cause you know that I've been feeling you."

A giggle escapes her lips as Tom repeats his humming.

From a far distance, Jamie, Harrison, and the others watched the two. They've never seen the two look so happy together. "It's as if they've never broken up in the first place." Sam commented. The others agreed with him. The two had been grinning, both obviously lovesick and comfortable with each other's presence.

Jacob nudged Harrison's side, asking him, "Do you think she's falling for Tom again?"

"No." All their heads turned to Jamie. "Because, even after my sister broke it off, she never really stopped loving Tom." Her head turns back again to the two. "She always had."

"There's no other love That I'd rather have you know."

And just like what he had done earlier, Tom never broke eye contact.

"There ain't no one there ain't no one else. I want you for myself"

He purposely made y/n feel like the song he was singing was meant for her. Honestly, it was for her. Every word that contained it was the message he wanted to tell her.

"I've been thinking 'bout you lately. Maybe you can save me from this crazy world we live in. And I know we could happen cause you know that I've been feeling you. I know you want me,"

She sang again.

"I've been thinking 'bout you lately. Maybe you can save me from this crazy world we live in. And I know we could happen cause you know that I've been feeling you."

"I know you want me too." The strumming continues and he moved closer to her.

"I know you want me too." Her reply came out more as a statement, but Tom continued strumming and humming.

He ended the song with one last strum. A half-smile was still etched on his face. "I'm glad you never stopped singing, Y/n."

"Yeah, well, I couldn't exactly dance, now can I?" She joked. "I might as well keep the next thing I love most before I lose it."

Tom puts his guitar to the side and offered some food from the picnic basket. Their time together continued, with more duets and playing with the dogs. When the sun was setting, Harrison texted Tom and informed him that it was time to take Y/n back to the hospital. Jamie came with her wheelchair and from that, Y/n knew that the day was over.

"I wish this never ends." Y/n says.

"Don't worry. As soon as you're done with your surgery and you get out of that hospital, we'll be doing this every day." Tom scooped her up and walked towards her wheelchair. He couldn't help but look at Y/n while he was carrying her. She looked like a bride, and he could hear the bells ringing inside his head.

At that moment, Tom had imagined everything. Him standing at the altar with Harrison by his side. His parents and Y/n's parents sitting at the front. Jamie walking down the aisle with her. Dressed in a white gown with beautiful laces that decorated it. Her veil covered her face, but he could still see the face of the love of his life.

It felt like Tom was looking into his future.

He sets her down and the grip around his neck removed once she sat. Jamie turns her wheelchair, "I'll see you at the room, Tom." she said before pushing her sister. Y/n looked back for a moment and waves at Tom. He waves back.

"Can't wipe that smile off can yaw?" Harrison teased, patting his friend's back.

"Nah. Not goanna come off any time soon."

"So, what's your plan now? You made Y/n the happiest she had been ever since she was admitted to the hospital." Tom quiets for a moment and stares off into the distance. He watched Y/n's car drive off before he spoke again. "Haz?"

"Yeah?"

"I've made up my mind. I'm gonna do it again."

"Again? What do you mean-" Harrison slowly realizes what he meant as his voice falters, blue eyes wide in shock. "Tom, are you sure? This is kinda big y'know."

He sighs. "I know." Tom turns to him, a sad look mixed with love and determination on his face. "But Y/n's time is running out, Haz. Her operation is in two days, her chance of survivability may not even make the cut. I'm not gonna take that chance."

Tom felt through his back pocket and took out a tiny velvet box.

-

day five of One Week

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[angelicthor]

billion dollar man - part 7

pairing: tony stark x reader

summary:  after mounting bills and debt cause you to look at alternative means of making money, you’re thrown into a whole different kind of life when one of the most famous billionaires on the block offers to be your sugar daddy, of course in exchange for a different from of payment. non-superhero au.

warnings/genre: +18 only, sugarbaby/daddy relationship, smut: slight exhibitionism + semi-public sex, slight angst/ptsd mentions 

masterlist | billion dollar man masterlist

a/n: feedback is always appreciated!

You were ready and waiting by the time Tony arrived, trying to adjust to the feeling of the saddle shaped vibrator nestled between your folds, pressed right against your core, heart racing at the mere thought of Tony’s inevitable unyielding teasing tonight. You only prayed that you’d be able to keep your cool around the others. God help you if they caught on.

Tony waited for you in the car as he usually did, a mischievous smirk adorning his face as you sat next to him, jolting upright with a gasp as the toy suddenly began to vibrate against you. Your head snapped towards Tony, eyes wide as you felt the strong pulse of the toy in just the right position against your clit, biting back the moan that was threatening to spill from your lips. The smirk on his face grew at your reaction until it was practically maniacal, his hand pulling out of his pocket with the remote held securely between his fingers.

“Good girl, you aren’t cheating,” His voice was raspy as he murmured those words to you, eyes locked on your body as your hips started to try and roll against the toy, your cunt flooding with arousal as your throbbing clit pressed against the buzzing device, “Oh Princess, that’s only the lowest setting.”

Your mouth fell open at that, the lowest setting was already able to soak your panties with desire and you didn’t know if you were dreading or anticipating what the highest setting could possible evoke in you.

Happy pulled up outside the venue, the flashes of cameras visible through the tinted windows and you only hoped you didn’t look as unruly as you felt. Tony held out his arm to you as you exited the car, your knees nearly buckling as you attempted to walk, clinging to him as he led you to the charity dinner you were attending.

The others were already at the table, Natasha enthusiastically waving you over and pulling you into a hug as you sat down beside her. The boys were still rather startled whenever Nat showed any sign of affection to you but by now you knew to just ignore the stares: they’d get used to it one day.

“I’m so glad you’re here, I need to ask you something!” Nat asked, face lighting up with glee at whatever her news was.

“Sure Nat, wh-” you cut yourself of with a gasp as Tony started the vibrator again, hand gripping the arm of the chair until it nearly hurt. Noticing everyone bar Tony – who was sitting there with a shit eating grin – giving you concerned looks, you attempted to pull yourself together, your body coming down from the shock and adapting to the feeling.

“Are you ok Y/N?” Nat queried, her hand resting atop of yours as she worriedly searched your face for any signs of distress.

“Y-yeah, fine, I’m fine. Just -uh- cramps? It’s nothing to worry about, what did you want to ask me?”

You were grateful Nat seemed to buy your excuse, returning to her previous excitement as she asked you to help her finish planning her engagement party, going on and on about the different ideas and plans she had. You tried desperately to pay attention to Nat, trying to ignore the constant buzzing between your legs and praying no one could hear your little secret as it brought you closer and closer to the edge as you crossed and uncrossed your legs in an attempt to hold off your inevitable orgasm.

The toy suddenly ceased it’s incessant palpitating and you nearly whimpered in relief and disappointment, the cusp of climax in your reach and part of wanted so desperately to fall over the edge but the logical part of you reminded you that you were in a very public place.

Your respite didn’t last long however, for as soon as your release had ebbed far enough away, Tony would dial the vibrator back up, playing with the speeds and watching you squirm with the upmost enjoyment.

All throughout dinner, Tony’s teasing never ceased, bringing you to the edge countless times until you were a fidgeting mess in your seat, trying desperately to hold in your tears and bite back your moans each time you were on the verge of release. You weren’t sure how much more you could take, caught between wanting the torture to stop all together in fear that one of the others would catch on to the cause of your strange behaviour and needing to finally cum, your panties soaked as cunt clenching around nothing in anticipation.

Tony, on the other hand, was the picture of relaxation, completely unfazed by the hitches in your breath and how every time you’d jolt you’d gain a new strange look from someone at the table. He sat back in his chair, swirling his bourbon around his glass, eyes locked on you over the rim as mischief danced there, a self-satisfied grin tugging at his lips and regardless of everything you couldn’t help but want to be devoured by the very man who was causing you such discomfort.

You were taking another small bite of the delicious meal in front of you, unable to fully enjoy the melody of flavours on your tongue as Tony restarted the vibrator, dialling it up to its highest setting and watching with fake concern as you sharply gasped, hand gripping your fork like your life depended on it causing Steve to shoot you a worried glance and Natasha to arch a brow in your direction.

“Are you ok Y/N? You don’t look so good.”

“Y-yeah Stevie, I’m-” you were cut off by a guttural moan that you tried unsuccessfully to stifle “It’s just cramps, nothing to worry about, they’ll pass.”

You could feel your face burning under their unwavering stares, hoping and praying that they believed you as panic began to set in; you were fast approaching your end and Tony wasn’t letting up with the toy.

“I don’t know, you’ve been acting like this all night,” Steve’s words were tuned out to you as you tried to subtly shift yourself to hinder your orgasm, “Tony maybe you should take her home.”

You sipped at the cold water in front of you, hoping it would provide some sort of relief against the raging fire that seemed to be lapping at every nerve in your body. That relief was short lived when you felt Tony change the settings on the vibrator; the toy no longer constantly buzzing but sending strong pulses through your core like tidal waves of pleasure right against your throbbing clit. The rapid change was enough to throw you over the edge, choking on your water as you came, jerking in your seat as your tried to grind down against the toy as you spluttered and coughed your way through your orgasm.

Your chest was heaving as you came down from your high, the toy finally switching off, and you hoped and prayed everyone would believe it was due to your impromptu coughing fit and nothing more, you watched through hazy eyes as Tony leaned over you, fighting back a wicked grin as he placed the back of his hand on your forehead.

“Hm, you feel a little feverish Angel; maybe we should take you to freshen up, might make you feel a little better,” Tony’s voice was laced with fake concern but you didn’t have the energy to do anything but nod sluggishly at him.

Tony helped you stand on shaky legs, propping you up on his arm as he whisked you away from the others and towards the bathrooms at the other end of the venue. However, not before you caught the cheeky leer on Natasha’s face and you knew that she knew.

You didn’t have time to dwell on the implications of Natasha knowing what had just gone down, Tony already leading you into one of the private bathrooms and locking the door behind you both, wasting no time in hoisting you up by your thighs and placing you on the worktop next to the sink, spreading your legs apart to press against your core so you could feel his hard length through his slacks.

His lips found yours in a frenzied kiss, hands burying themselves in your hair to tug your locks, manoeuvring your head to exactly where he wanted you and you followed without complaint, compliantly opening your mouth to Tony’s tongue as he completely dominated you.

“God, you have no idea what you were doing to me,” Tony panted out through ragged breaths as he littered your neck with sloppy kisses and nips, “Every fucking whimper you made went straight to my fucking cock, you were so fucking noisy babygirl – did you want to get caught? Was that it? Wanted everyone in that fucking room to know that you had a vibrator pressed tight against that sweet cunt?”

Moaning at Tony’s filthy words, you hitched your leg higher around his waist, pulling him closer to you and rutting yourself against him with unadulterated want. You had no idea his words would have such effect on you but you could feel the desire for release returning tenfold, as if your previous orgasm had never even happened.

“Wait, wait; fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tony’s eyes were wild as he checked his pockets, panic and dread setting in as you watched on in confusion. “I don’t have a fucking condom.”

“S’fine, I’m on birth control,” You reassured him, but your words only caused his head to snap up, brows furrowed in bewilderment that you could only giggle at.

“Since when!?”

“Since you warned me you could spontaneous and Pepper sent me the results of your last STI check,” You stated matter-of-factly watching in amusement as his confusion melted away into awe.

“Remind me to give Pepper a raise.”

“Will do, now can we please do this?” Tony’s sly grin returned, hunger once again lighting up his eyes as his lips devoured yours.

Large hand’s traced down the exposed skin of your thighs, pushing your dress up with them until your pantie-clad core was revealed to his hungry eyes. Tony’s fingers dipped below the hem of your panties, quickly trailing between your folds and groaning at the feel of your wetness covering his digits.

“Tony p-please don’t-” You were cut off by a scream as Tony circled your clit, grinning into your neck as he tortured you with his fingers.

“Don’t what Angel?”

“Please don’t tease me,” You knew how desperate you sounded and you couldn’t find it in you to care about the taunting tone of Tony’s voice, willing to do anything for him to fuck you in that very moment against the bathroom wall.

Tony’s dark chuckle reached your ears before you felt your panties being torn down your legs, haphazardly thrown to the side and landing with a thud on the floor. The clanking sound of Tony’s belt being undone was as sweet as music and you could have cried with happiness as he tugged his trousers and boxers down just enough to free his rock-hard length to you.

You couldn’t contain the guttural moan at the sight of Tony’s cock, tilting your head to the side to allow him to press sloppy kisses from your jaw to your ear, gasping when he nipped at the lobe.

“Don’t worry Y/N, no more teasing,” Tony murmured huskily as he gripped his cock, guiding the head through your folds and coating himself in your slick. Before you could even register the feeling of his swollen head bumping against your throbbing nub, Tony had lined himself up with your entrance and snapped his hips forward, filling you with one fluid thrust that had you crying out his name like a prayer.

Tony swiftly set a brutal pace, hands gripping your waist with a bruising strength as his cock pumped in and out of your quivering pussy. Your nails clawed at Tony’s back that was still protected by his shirt and jacket, ankles locked at the small of his back as you clung to him for dear life, his hips bucking into yours with an animalistic intensity that made your head spin, the bulbous head of his cock hitting your g-spot with every drive of his hips into yours.

Your orgasm was building quickly, the coil in your core tightening and tightening, toes curling as the pressure of your release built within you; the small bathroom was filled with your harsh breaths, Tony’s muttered curses and the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin. The mirror behind you was covered by a thin layer of condensation and you could feel the small beads of sweat racing down your collarbone and disappearing between your breasts.

The abrupt rapture of your orgasm had your back arching off the cool glass, body writhing as whimpers and moans fell freely from your parted lips. The feeling of your cunt deliciously squeezing around Tony’s cock propelled him to his own end, a deep growl tearing from his throat as he emptied into you, hips languidly thrusting a few final times as you both came down from your highs.

Once you both were able to move again, you went about trying to make yourselves somewhat respectable, the fact that you two had just fucked like rabbits looking more than obvious in your dishevelled clothing and ruined hair. Tony bent down to pick your panties up from the floor but instead of handing them to you like you expected him to, he shoved them in his trouser pocket, shooting you a wink as he pressed a lazy kiss to your swollen lips.

After doing all you could to make yourself look semi-presentable, you and Tony made your way back to the others who were all talking amongst themselves until you approached the table. “Hey, there you guys are: what took you so long?”

You felt panic ran down your back like a cold shiver but Tony only pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arm protectively around you. “You were right Rogers, she isn’t doing too well. I rang Happy to come pick us up and you know how he gets when starts talking – we’re gonna head out, see you guys later.”

You said your goodbyes to everyone, giving Nat a hug and avoiding the tug at the corner of her lips that just screamed ‘I know what’s really happening’, you turned to leave with Tony. You made it three steps before Bucky was calling Tony back.

“Hey Stark! You might not want to forget this,” Bucky plucked Tony’s phone from off the table. The same place it had been all night.

“Oh, Thanks Barn-” Tony’s sentence died on his lips as the penny finally dropped. They had known the whole time. Tony had left his phone behind.

Busted.

You never thought you’d see a self-assured grin that could rival Tony’s but right now Bucky was coming a close second and you felt your stomach sink as horror filled your bones. Tony took the phone from Bucky’s outstretched hand, turning to you with wide eyes and shouting one more final goodbye over his shoulder as you both raced out of the hall and away from their boisterous laughter.  

Finally, you made it to the streets outside, the cool wind hitting you sharply, providing a much-needed relief against your burning cheeks. You both turned to each other with horror stricken expressions before you burst into a fit of giggles, tears forming in your eyes as Tony clutched at his stomach, laughter overtaking the both of you as the ridiculousness of the situation caught up with you both.

The sound of someone clearing their throat behind you pulled you both from your amusement, spotting Happy leaning against the car with an arched brow and knowing smile.

“Let me guess, Natasha called you?”

Opening the back door for you both Happy shook his head in response, “I don’t know what you’re talking about boss.”

The ride back to Tony’s was pleasantly silent, you stayed snuggled into his side as he played with a loose strand of your hair. Every movement the pair of you made was lethargic, the energy you had all but spent and yet you somehow found it in you to go another round in the shower. You never intended to it just progressed to such, which you were fast learning was common with Tony Stark; a shared shower turned into washing each other which turned into soft caresses which turned into gentle fucking under the spray of the water.

You both collapsed onto the bed, cuddling under the cool sheets as you drifted into a deep sleep, Tony’s arms wrapped firmly around your waist, your back pressed against his chest as he buried his face in your neck.

The sky was still black when you woke, the only light coming through the tall windows were from the twinkling lights from the insomniac city below you. You shifted away from Tony, watching through bleary eyes as he tried to pull you back to him in his sleep and let out a soft snort as you quietly padded towards the bathroom.

Coming back into Tony’s bedroom, you noticed the clock on the bedside table reading 3am and you groaned internally at how early it was, sliding back under the covers with all intentions of going back to sleep until it became a far more acceptable time to be awake.

Your plans, however, you disrupted as you felt Tony shift beside you, twisting on the bed as he clawed at the sheets beneath him, head thrashing about on the pillow as his face contorted in what you could only describe as agony. Your heart twisted in your chest as you watched helplessly as Tony muttered and begged with a sleep slurred voice, the pained cry that tore from his throat was what snapped you out of your trance, leaping into action as you tried to gently wake Tony and bring him out of whatever nightmare he was trapped in.

“Tony, Tony; wake up, come on Tony it’s just a nightmare, it’s not real,” You called out, soothingly running your fingers down his face as to not shock him, wanting the first thing he became aware of to be comforting not violent.

With a shuddering gasp, Tony lurched up in the bed, eyes wild as he tried to discern exactly where he was, puzzlement overtaking his features as he cast his eyes around his bedroom. You were still kneeling in front of him completely stunned by what you had just saw and not knowing what to say to comfort him.

“Tony? Are you ok?” You kept your voice small and placid as to not spook him further, knowing he had still not recovered from whatever had haunted his sleep.

At your question, Tony’s head snapped up, eyes widening even further as he saw you for the first time since he’d woken. He swallowed harshly as he sat there trembling, eyes casting about the room to try and avoid you’re questioning stare.

“M’fine, Y/N,” Tony gritted out from between clenched teeth, his entire composure the complete opposite to what he was claiming, “It was just a nightmare. You should go back to sleep.”

Not knowing what else you could do in that moment, you settled back against the pillows, watching as Tony sat there a few moments longer, taking deep gulps of air to try and calm his racing heart before he stood up and left the room, closing the door silently behind him.

Sleep didn’t come as easily as it did before, your mind a flurry of thoughts all surrounding Tony and what you had just witnessed. You wondered how long it had been going on for, you had guessed that he had been struggling to sleep, what with the dark circles under his eyes and the fact that he was never there when you woke but you didn’t know that he was plagued with nightmares like this. You were aware you were a heavy sleeper but being able to ignore this seemed a little excessive.

Then your mind cast back to the day you were watching that movie together, the way he had paled at the sound of the explosions on screen and it began to come together. You had figured the movie incident had just been because it served as a reminder of what happened in Afghanistan but what if it was more; what if Tony had untreated PTSD?

As you fell into a restless sleep, one thing was certain in your mind, you weren’t going to let Tony continue to ignore this anymore.

a/n: i don’t have a tag list but if you want alerts please follow @angelicthorwrites and turn on notifications

[ikenbar]

Mr. Love: Ike’s Choice Pt 7

Warnings: Lucien fluff, deep thoughts w/ Sam, sassy Victors, plot twists, ends to chapters, and cliff hangers. and this one is a dozy :D

(Chapter One parts one, two, three, four, five, six, and seven here :))

((Please read the author’s note on part one if you’re new here :D))

AS A HEADS UP!! This is the last part to chapter one. I know I know, depressing. But Chapter two is currently in production and will be published as soon as it is finished! Stay tuned for that!! I have many big things planned but, for now, enjoy the last part to chapter one :D

Chapter one:

Part Seven:

Everyone was settled around the dinner table and prepared to start eating their food. Lucien and I were sitting across from each other in the middle of the table. Even though Bart had insisted we sat next to each other, I told him it would be a better way to hold a conversation. Though the fact was I wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

We sat in silence for a bit, eating our spaghetti, but it didn’t take long until Maria had sparked up a conversation. “So, Lucien,” Maria asked happily as she poured some cut-up spaghetti onto Lola’s highchair table, which Lola promptly flattened with her small hands, “You told us you were away from Loveland for study?” 

“That’s correct.” He responded politely as he prepared food onto his fork.

“What did you study?”

“I’m afraid it is still an ongoing study so I cannot converse about it yet.” Lucien’s voice was like butter as he spoke. He was such a gentleman. It made me uncomfortable.

“Oo!” Sam chimed in from next to me, “Does it have to do with superpowers?! If it does, can I be a test subject?!” I choked on my food.

“Sam!” Maria exclaimed.

“No, no, It’s alright.” Lucien laughed, “I’m afraid it isn’t, Sam. But I will keep you in mind if we ever get to it.” Sam beamed and looked up at me hopefully. I raised an eyebrow at him through my glass of water, drinking away the remaining spaghetti lodged in my throat.

“What kind of work do you normally do, Lucien?” Maria asked, hoping to return the attention to him. As Lucien spoke, the phone in my pocket buzzed. I stealthily took it out to find I had a message from an unknown number. Confused, I opened it.

 I have decided.

 Who could this-...? I hitched my breath and I felt the blood in my body pool to my feet. Could it be… 

What a rude way to start a conversation.

I replied, hoping to loosen myself up for the answer to come. The reply was almost instantaneous.

 …

Do you want the funding or not?

 ...Wait, did he just say yes?!

 Is that a yes? 

It’s not a no.

Holy balls that’s a yes!

Meet me in my office this Friday at 3 to discuss where we are to go from here. I’ll have Goldman call you tomorrow to discuss details.

 “Speaking of work,” Bart’s loud voice pulled me from my state of shock. I quickly looked up and regained my composure to the table, “Ike, you had something you wanted to tell me? About the meeting at LFG?”

“You went to LFG?!” Chris exclaimed, looking at me with huge eyes, “I have been trying to get a hold of them for years! Why were you there?” I was slow to answer, still being in shock, so Bart answered for me.

“She had an interview about funding with the big CEO himself!” Bart answered excitedly, cutting me off.

“Bart!” Maria scoffed, “You know how bad Ike with interviews!! How could you make her do that?!”

“Come on, Maria. Have some faith in me! I know what I’m doing!” Bart put his hand on my shoulder and beamed at me, “I knew she could handle it!” Maria opened her mouth to retaliate but I finally found my voice.

“I did it.” I said it softly, but it was enough to silence the room of all noises, “I did it. I… I got the funding.” There was a casual cheerful praise that came from everyone in the room. Bart took a different approach.

“I knEW IT!” Bart exclaimed happily, standing from the table and lifting me in a warm embrace, “I knEW I could trust you with that interview!” My phone clanked to the floor as he spun me around. Lola screamed playfully as she watched Bart carry me around the room.

“Bart, be careful!” Maria said through her laughs, “You’ll break her!” Bart dropped me on to the ground only to hug me again, this time tightly and with more intimacy.

“I’m so proud of you.” He said into my shoulder. My heart fluttered slightly.

“Thanks, Bart.” I said, patting him on the back, “But next time, give me at least a day’s notice. I’m pretty sure Victor only gave me this because he felt bad for me.” Bart gave a jolly laugh and pulled away from me.

“Victor?! Feel sorry!? I doubt it.” He rolled his eyes as we walked back to our seats. Ashton pulled one side of his earphones off from his head.

“Why was dad wrestling Ike?” He asked with a monotone voice.

“Ike just got a lot of money for her company!” Sam said, taking his turn to hug me as I sat back down.

“Oh.” Ashton deadpanned, returning his gaze to his phone as he replaced his headphones.

“Congrats, Evie!” Sam said, rubbing his face on mine, “You’re amazing!”

“Congratulations, Ikamara.” Lucien said from across the table. I looked up at him and we locked eyes. Though he didn’t know me well, I could tell his congrats was meaningful. I nodded to him.

“Thank you.” I said giving Sam a pat. Sam let go of me and handed me my phone, which he had courteously picked up as I was being attacked by Bart. I opened it back up to see I still hadn’t responded to Victor. I quickly typed back:

 Thank you for this opportunity, sir. We won’t let you down.

 I was in the kitchen washing the dishes as everyone was enjoying each other’s company in the dining room. Lucien offered to help but I insisted on working alone. I thought being alone would be the best way to celebrate a job well done. Actually, the best way would be to head to St. Richard’s pub and buy a round for everyone there, but time alone would have to do.

I wiped my hands and pulled out my phone. I opened Victor’s messages and read the last message he had sent for the umpteenth time tonight: Don’t be late. A small smirk crept onto my face.  I had done it. Me! Ikamara Bikira! Funded our show with an interview! I carefully closed the messages and returned to the dishes with a new purpose.

I dried the last plate and prepared to put it back in its place in the cupboard, though the stack of plates was already tall and getting to be hard to reach. I moved to roll on my tiptoes, but a hand came from behind me and took the plate. I quickly turned around and watched as Lucien placed the plate on top of the others without any trouble. “Th-thanks.” I muttered, slightly taken aback. Lucien smiled down at me.

“You’re welcome.” He looked meaningfully in my eyes. He had me locked between the counter and his arm as he looked over me. I felt myself shrink slightly in my shoes. Someone finally had his eyes set on me and I really didn’t want any of it. Lucien was nice and all but he was a scientist. He would just use me and my past as an experiment. Besides, I wasn’t ready to open up to anyone. And with mister. therapist here, I know all he’ll want to do is break me open like a pinata.

 Lucien reached up to touch my face. I quickly caught his hand. His eyes flashed with surprise. But then his normal soft face returned as he chuckled. I raised my eyebrow. He sighed and moved his hand from mine. He brushed my cheek and revealed that I had a few bubbles on my face. “You look like you were having fun with the soap.” His voice made it sound like I was a child who had been caught having fun in a bubble bath. I felt my face flush as I went to wipe any access he may have missed. Anger and embarrassment toiled in my chest.

“I’m not a child.” I muttered, pushing away from his hold. 

“I’m sorry.” He said in a soft tone, “Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“Yes… no… I don’t know.” I huffed as I leaned over the sink, “I’m just… What are you doing here? Go have fun with the others.” I felt Lucien come closer to me.

“You’re just what?” He asked seriously.

“What?”

“You started saying something but you cut yourself off. You can tell me. I won’t get angry.”

I paused, ready to push him back again, but something about his intense stare made it hard to refuse his questions, “... confused. I’m just… confused.”

“What is confusing to you?” Lucien’s face grew closer to mine again. I reflexively tensed my shoulders, “Maybe I can help clear-”

“That confuses me.” I poked Lucien’s nose, “You. Everything about you is confusing.” Lucien took my hand, pulling it from his face. His hand was warm. I felt the warmth melt away the cold from my fingertips and make its way down and throughout my hand. I quickly pulled away and took a few steps away from him. He shouldn’t waste his warmth on me. I leaned on the sink, my back facing it. 

“I don’t think I understand what you mean.”

“This whole evening I’ve been unapproachable and rude. I impolitely responded to your questions, I pried into your life, and I have pushed you away more than once. Not to mention, my family told you all about how messed up I am. Every other man who came into this house left before dinner even hit the table. So, answer me this, Lucien, why are you still here?” Lucien’s eyes lingered on me for a moment before he looked down in thought. 

“I am a scientist.” He carefully said after a long pause, “I see the world around me as something that I can constantly observe and build from. I make hypotheses and find the conclusions. I’ve been very successful in my findings.”

“...and?”

Lucien came closer to me. His eyes were locked on mine.

“And,” Lucien’s tone was so gentle, it sounded as if he was scared his words might break me, “I can’t quite understand you.”

“You’ve just met me.” I said defiantly.

“Right. And I would like to build off that. To get to know you better so I may treat you the way you deserve to be treated. That is,” Lucien moved in front of me. He took my hands before I realized what was happening, “if you would let me.” the sudden intimate motion made me flustered.

“I-I-...” I cleared my throat and evaded his eyes. They were altering my thoughts, “You want to get to know me better so you can find a conclusion to your ‘experiment?’”

“You can think of it that way if you’d like.” Lucien chuckled. My expression tensed slightly. I was right, I was just an experiment to him. Lucien seemed to catch on to my thoughts and sighed, “Don’t take it the wrong way. My intentions are to use the information to treat you the way you deserve. The way every man should...,” Lucien leaned slightly closer to me and lifted my chin so I faced him, “The way only I could.”

Lucien’s eyes had locked onto mine. I hesitated. My first impression of him was mistrust. Would giving him a chance really be a good choice? I searched his eyes for answers but all I could see was the unique violet shining inside of them. The kind of violet that a twilight sky could hold. The kind of violet I could get lost in...

“Geez. Can you guys finish this love fest someplace else.” A voice from the kitchen doorway made me jump. I looked around Lucien and saw Christopher standing with Sam in the doorway. Chris gave me a look of pure mockery. “We have ice cream we need to retrieve.” Being pulled from Lucien’s eyes brought me back to my senses.

“I’ll get it.” I retrieved my hands from Lucien and moved to the fridge. I pulled out the ice cream and turned around to find Lucien standing in front of me. He had his hand out and, inside it, was a business card.

“What’s this?” I asked suspiciously.

“My card.” Lucien’s tone was apologetic, “I’m afraid I have business I need to attend to before the night is over. Bart tells me you are the co-head of the Ike ‘n Bar Productions Company. If you ever need a consultant for an episode, or if you just need to talk, give me a call. Besides, you still haven’t answered my question.” I hesitated for a moment before taking the card. Before I could pull the card away, Lucien pulled my hand to his face, giving it a slight peck. “Until we meet again.” He smiled gently at me before finally letting me go. He walked towards the boys and wished them a good night as he left the room. I watched him in a trance as he left. Maybe…

I quickly shook my head and shoved the card in my pocket. I tossed the icecream to Chris who caught it swiftly. “I’m sorry, Ike.” He started awkwardly, “I didn’t-”

“Don’t be.” I said putting my hands in my pockets, “I was uncomfortable anyway. You got the bowls?” I tried hard to change the subject. Chris opened his mouth but didn’t say anything.

“I’ll get it!” Sam said cheerfully, running into the kitchen, “Chris, you can go ahead and get everyone’s icecream orders ready!” Christopher gave him a skeptical look. His face changed to realization and he nodded.

“Rightio!” He said, smiling his normal smile again. He turned on his heel and left. I rolled my eyes and directed my attention to Sam.

“What do you want, Sam?” I sighed, walking towards him. Sam opened his mouth with an intention to rebuke. I raised my eyebrow. He closed his mouth.

“What do you think about Lucien?” He said bravely. I rolled my eyes again and huffed.

“What is it with you people and getting hooking me up?!” I couldn’t hold back my temper any longer, “How often do I have to say that I’m ok with being alone.”

“Because you used the word ‘alone!’” Sam matched my tense energy, “Alone is a word that lonely people would use!” Sam puffed out his cheeks. My eyebrows knitted slightly. Before I could say a word, Sam continued, “I couldn’t care less if you started dating him. What I do care about is how you are shutting him out without giving him a chance! Ike, you have such a bad problem with trust!”

“I do not!”

“Oh yeah?! What was the first thing you thought when you saw him?” Sam folded his hands across his chest. I thought for a moment… Something about him hiding something came to mind. Sam sighed at my silence. When he spoke again, his tone was noticeably softer, “Ike, I get that there are things in your past that affected the way you can trust, but how long are you going to use it as an excuse? Lucien thinks a lot like you do. But he uses his knowledge to better improve people. While you had your head stuck in your phone at dinner, he talked about how he teaches college students and little kids science! He just wants to help people. It’s ok to not be ready for a relationship, but can you try to make friends? Would you… do it for me?” The look in Sam’s eyes was much older than his true age. Sam had this way of speaking that made me believe that he had an old man’s spirit locked inside of him. Which made it all the harder to refuse him.

 I sighed and rubbed Sam’s head. “You are wise beyond your years, kiddo.” The tone of my voice was proof of me caving into his words. He held onto my hand and smiled up at me.

“Is that a yes?!”

“It’s not a no.” I smiled. Sam jumped into my stomach and squeezed me tightly, “Now go bring the bowls to the hungry family before they eat you instead.” I said, pushing Sam off of me. Sam giggled and happily took a stack of bowls and a handful of spoons to the dining room.

I watched him leave with a soft smile. That smile soon left as I pulled out my phone and Lucien’s card. I sighed and typed the number into my messaging app and sent the following message: 

Lucien, this is Ike. I’m going to take you up on your offer to help my show. I am making a show on super abilities and I’d like to touch on how psychology fits into that. Are you interested? 

My thumb hovered over the send button for a second. Was I really about to do this? My instinct told me to not trust him. Do I trust my instinct, or do I trust…?

 I pressed the send button immediately. There was no debate. I trusted Sam way more than anything. Not even my instincts could change that.

 I quickly tucked my phone in my pocket as if avoiding the fact that I had done what I just did. I quickly walked to the dining room door but, before I could rejoin my family, my pocket buzzed. I froze and regret coursed through my veins. What if he had said no? I put myself out there and I could be turned down. Do I even want to read this text? I slowly pulled out my phone and, sure enough, one unread message from Lucien. I opened the message.

Yes. I would love to help any way I can. How does next Friday sound?

My spirits slightly rose but, as the thought of Victor’s meeting came to mind, they stopped. 

I have a meeting next Friday that will take most of my time during work. Can you do something in the morning?

I’m afraid not.

What about after the meeting?

The meeting would go beyond my working hours.

Perfect

We can discuss it over dinner. 

My heart jumped through my throat.

Is that alright with you? 

I swallowed hard. I couldn’t think or breathe properly. Thoughts of doubt circled my mind but there was only one thought that stopped all the others.

 Do it for Sam.

My shaky fingers made it hard to reply quickly but, eventually, I typed out:

Alright. Where should we meet?

 >>>

I said my final goodbyes as I shut the front door behind me. I heaved my final sigh of the night as I relaxed every muscle in my body. I hadn’t realized how tense I had been that whole day. I rubbed my neck as I pulled out my phone from my pocket. 10:15. St. Richards was still open. If I were to hurry-

As I was walking down the stairs, I stepped on the third step accidentally. The wood bent under me, quickly sending me into a fit of wild movements as I tried to rebalance myself. Finally, I fell forward and let go of the phone in my hand. I watched as it sailed over the lawn, skipped a couple of times on the cement, then slid under one of the cars parked by the sidewalk. I cursed as I scrambled off the ground and to the car. I got on my hands and knees as I peered underneath the backdoor. It was just at arm’s length. I tried reaching out to grab it but was stopped by the curb and the bodywork of the car. I cursed my love for curl-ups as I stood up. I searched my head wildly for a solution. Then an idea came to mind.

I looked around at the neighborhood carefully. Most of the lights in the houses around me were off and the road was empty. Perfect. I grabbed the end of the car, took a deep breath, and lifted it. The car matched my movements and moved seamlessly from the curb. I scooped up the phone and, being sure not to set off the car alarm, I carefully placed the car back down on the street. I normally was against using my Evol in public like that but, seeing as that was a new phone, I couldn’t resist. I backed up slowly from the car and looked around me one last time for any sign of life. Seeing no one, I started walking back to my bike, inspecting my phone for cracks as I did so. 

>>>

A man sat in his car a couple feet away from the girl. He has watched her lift a car singlehandedly and place it back down like it was nothing to her. He laughed to himself as the girl walked back to her motorcycle, oblivious of his existence. He picked up the radio on his belt and uttered three low and intense words into it.

“I found her.”

  End of Chapter One :D

(Next)

[roses-ruby]

Desperandum Victum Chapter 1

Jimin x Female Reader

Genre: Demon AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut (future chapters), Mature, Slow Burn

Warnings: The story will get really fucking dark, including themes of incest, cannibalism, rape, murder, slavery, gore, yandere, religion, and way more oof. This chapter doesn’t have anything but a subtle mention of violence lol

Word Count: 10,025

Summary: You’ve had a traumatizing hard life and you move to a new town for new beginnings. But what if this town was hiding secrets of it’s own?

A/N: Ahahahaha, I hate that it’s unedited. Let me know my mistakes fam so I can fix them. At the moment I’m setting in the story. I hope you guys read the warning! Enjoy.

It is hopelessness, even more than pain that crushes the soul-William Styron

You breathe in the brisk air. A cloud of steam encompassing your vision. From the rusted hardwood patio, you spot the large Latin cross above the ball and lantern of the church. The church stands a few blocks away from your standpoint yet is clearly visible to anyone in town glancing towards the heavens, as a sort of metonymy supposedly. Religious town folks, you gather, taking note of the polished finish of the pole compared to deteriorated timber linings of the dwellings scattered amiss. Shades of caliginous sky-blue paints your vicinity and you lead out another gust of blight. Frosty weather penetrates your sweats, making your thighs shake bitterly and your teeth chatter.

Sighing, you take one last look at the azure atmosphere and head inside; letting warmth engulf your bones. Entering the dining room, you hear the voice you’ve been avoiding all day

“Hey, you’re supposed to be helping me unpack!”

Scrunching your nose, you grab an apple off the countertop, “when’s dinner?”

“After we unpack”

Your mouth drops in horror as you eye the many boxes littered around the compact space with packing tape still intact.

“Are you serious? So next week then?”

“It’s my fault? I’ve been unpacking hours ago-most of this is your stuff anyway! And you aren’t doing anything-where were you even at?”

“Alright, alright relax,” plopping onto the floor you pull a box towards you, “stop nagging and hand me a razor”

He focuses his gaze on you, taking a moment before looking around. Observing the little beads of sweat on his forehead, courtesy the reflection of your ceiling light, a small pout presents itself on your face out of guilt. You shouldn’t have ran away to enjoy the house and helped out instead before he overworked himself again. You ignore the part of your conscious that whispers about how they weren’t there before.

A small pair of shears slide next to you and you pick it up to puncture your first box.

It’s around midnight when you complete the task of unpacking and modeling. You once over your small room and smile. Feeling at ease at the cozy looking space you jump, back first-onto your twin bed. Tepid knocks sing at your door, before the hinges creak open.

“Do you still want dinner?” He looks meek and apologetic, and you know how he worries for you. “No way,” you giggle, “I’m about to faint and I know you are too. Just go to sleep, you big goof.”

“But-“

“Oh my god Jun, it’s Sunday tomorrow, just give me a big breakfast, I’ll be fine!”

He smiles, “Alright, get to dreaming, punk”

The door shuts close and you correctly position yourself onto your pillow, pulling the warm comforter around your body and melting into the soft cushions of your bed. Cramped muscles and sore thighs from heavy items, awkward poses and tension relax and meander down from a hectic night. A window positioned right above your headboard let’s in soft moonlight through the eggshell white curtains. Your body dulls and your eyes dormant, slowly drifting your conscious elsewhere.

-

Vociferous chirping birds and a delicious aroma wafting through the entirety of your household right through your nostrils jolt you awake. Sitting up, you feel your dry mouth moisten itself. Last night’s hunger has nested itself in your guts making your craving for food more prominent. Putting a hand over your growling stomach, you throw the comforter off your legs and quickly exit your room, trudging towards the kitchen like a zombie.

Jun’s moving a spatula over a crackling non-stick pan, an unobstructed sniff lets you know the appetizing scent was bacon. “You’re up,” he smiles as you scrap a chair out near the modest pinewood dining table. 9:42 is what you sleepily eye on the clock above.

Stepping up behind you, Jun sets down a plate in front of you filled with your favorite type of eggs, toast, and crispy bacon, half wrapping you in his large frame while doing so. The fragrance from the food has you licking your lips, and Jun laughs while mussing up your bed hair. He smells really nice too.

You quickly pick up your fork digging into the entrée in front of you, as Jun pours some orange juice out in a glass.

“Whoa, slow down missy”

“am hungry”

“Ugh, and don’t talk with your mouth open” he hands you the glass that you snatch and happily gulp down in seconds

Jun grins

“Is it good?”

“It’s breakfast Jun,” you set down the container and narrow your eyes at him, “you don’t have to be Martin Yan to make it right”

“But still, saying thanks or complimenting me wouldn’t hurt,” a silly frown forms on his face as he sulks

You shoot him a cheesy smile, which dies down solemnly, “Thank you,” you mumble, “It’s been a long time since we’ve had a proper breakfast, so thank you, Jun.” Staring at him all-embracing, intently, you let your face reflect your gratitude

His gaze softens and he pulls out the chair in front of you ready to consume his side of the meal

The rest of the morning is spent in silent thoughts and steady heartbeats.

-

“Would you slow down for one second?”

You’ve been running through the streets like a little girl with Jun chasing after you. After breakfast the first thing you requested to do was go shopping. The town is too minor for several big malls, but they did have one in the town square area, which for you is like a candy store.

“Hurry up then old man!” you shout at him across the street, before running through the glass door of the large building.

To a city girl, this structure would be an average sized shopping precinct, but it was bigger than most of the town. Walking into the set of the second glass door, you take in the atmosphere of the brightly lit outlet. It’s bustling with people and families, you can already whiff Christmas although the holiday’s far off. There’s some happy tune settling in your ear, and a fresh mawkish aura from what you conclude to be a bakery on your left. Just like in the movies you surmise.

As your eyes twinkle at the new thrills, Jun catches up with you

“Goodness,” he huffs next to you with his hands on his knees, “Kids these days-“

He’s about to scold you but your eyes look so shiny, facing away from him towards the mall. He smiles.

“Alright, we have to hurry up. You have school tomorrow and I want you getting all your items and books ready. I also have to buy new pots and pans for the kitchen.”

You finally snap out of it and look at him, “Do we have to hurry? I mean can we please look around? And what about your work, don’t you have to buy some wrenches for the cars? Finding the right wrench takes a lot of time and effort,” you state as a matter of factly, “Also there’s a restaurant right by that bakery! We could have lunch here and continue shopping! No need to rush!”

Jun gazes at you rambling before he sighs, “I understand you wanna stay, but we can’t,” he gives you a pointed look, “we’re short on time and we need to get home to finish the rest of the unpacking and get you ready for your first day.”

Dejectedly you look at the ground like you’ve just been kicked. “But-” Jun begins

“We can come back here this Saturday and then you can look around as much as you want. Besides I’m making chicken Milano at home, I thought you loved that”

You perk up instantly and Jun almost laughs out loud at your easy to please nature, “Really, oh wow let’s hurry”

“Where do you want to go first”

“How about you go shop for the kitchen while I go buy some school items and clothes”

He looks uneasy at leaving you alone in an unknown place “uh..I don’t know, that doesn’t seem like a goo-“

“You said we are short on time! I’ll be fine, I’m 17 for god’s sake!”

After a bit more convincing and a credit card in hand, you cheerily skip your way through the shopping center. You find a small stationary store on the second floor of the mall. There are a few kids here, around your age and they’re probably here for tomorrow’s first day of school too. Picking up the items you deem essential, and avoiding eye contact to look like a dork, you pay and head out the store as quickly as you can. If Jun finishes his shopping beforehand, and finds you taking your time then he’s going to admonish you right in front of those kids! Entering a nearby aesthetically pleasing shop for clothes, you make it inside to search around for items you like.

You didn’t want them to be expensive. It’s all Jun’s money anyway. And some of the prices before almost gave you a heart attack. Maybe you should get a part time job, you ponder, then Jun wouldn’t have to worry about your expenses and you can take care of them yourself. Mentally high-fiving yourself at the genius idea, you head towards a rack that says clearance in the back of the store.

Your hands glide across the fabrics, attempting to seize something that catches your eye. When you do find something you like, you take it off the rack and give it a once over. It’s a cute red blouse that’s not bad for $8. Humming to yourself, you place it over your forearm and continue looking through the section.

Concluding your purchase with a top and bottom, you leave the shop in a satisfied manner. This’ll do for tomorrow’s big day. Next Saturday is when you will continue your genuine consumerism. You make your way downstairs to wait for Jun, that way you can tease him for being late. Making certain to take note of all the slight areas that catch your eye, to come back to on Saturday.

-

It’s been 10 minutes. You never considered yourself as an impatient person, but the excitement from having new items to entertain yourself with was challenging you to run home this instant. That and you were hungry.

Being so lost in thought you didn’t even realize there’s someone gradually wandering up by you.

“Hello”

“Whaa?!” You flinch gawking at the woman who crept up on you

She was smiling at you. Amused at your conduct, she chuckles

“My name is Joan Miller. Are you new here by chance? I have personally never seen you around our town?”

You give her a proper look. The lady was a bit taller than you and had small, bobbed blonde hair framing her jaw. There were smile lines around her mouth and in the corner of her eyes, but she didn’t look older than 40. She was wearing a black pant suit that was thoroughly ironed, not a wrinkle in sight, with an off white, button up blouse and thin blue stripes and velvet charcoal pumps. Holding a small black book inside her arms across her chest, she beamed at you with her eyes as crescents. There was something off about her smile, but you budged that assumption aside, not wanting to criticize a person you didn’t know.

“Um…Hi…Yeah, we just moved in yesterday in the old homes a few blocks from the church” You were nervous and not used to talking to strangers, even nice ladies like her, but you give her your name hesitantly

“I see, what a lovely name, and how enjoyable to see a fresh face in FallHaven,” Joan answers warmly, “Are you here with your parents, sweetheart?”

“She’s here with me,” Jun replies, and you flinch yet again

How come people are so good at sneaking up on you? You should work on that.

Joan smiles at Jun and reaches her hand out, for the typical adult greeting. Jun responds as he takes her hand and stretches her a pleasant smile as they give each other their names. He had shopping bags on the sides of his leg, cumbersome components he had to set down to accept hands with the blonde lady.

“If you do not mind me inquiring, where have you settled in from? Am I correct to assume you two are related in some way?” Joan asks

“That’s quite a few questions you’re asking” Jun states bluntly as you stare half shocked at him

Joan doesn’t skip a beat “It is a description in my job, young man.” She laughs a bit before stating “I represent Fallhaven Baptist church as one of their board members, and I am attempting to recruit young people such as you both.”

She turns and points to the stall behind her. It’s a modest table, with white cloth draped over it. There’re two poles at the edges of the table that connect a correspondingly snowy banner that read ‘FallHaven Baptist Church’ in blue. Two men await by the stand, with Joan like smiles on their faces, waving at you in a friendly manner. Joan waves back at them.

You and Jun meet eyes for a mutual look.

Turning to Jun again she completes her answer, “So you see, I want to know you individuals better, lest you join our humble commodity”

“Well um…,” Jun awkwardly coughs, “We’re pretty short on time at the moment-”

He pauses for Joan to interrupt the phrase like most do, but she patiently waits for him to finish his sentence

“…which is why we can’t talk much about it right now.”

She nods, “I understand, you both are quite busy with the recent events surrounding your move. Then I will not take up your time any longer, but may I hand you our brochure, if you might to revise your decision?” taking out a pamphlet behind her black book, she extends it towards Jun

You prepare for him to decline, as he stares blankly at the leaflet, but instead he gazes up at you for a moment before he shifts back at the woman to accept the brochure and thank her, catching you off guard

“Thank you for your kind welcome…we’ll definitely look into it”

You stare at him with your mouth agape as you hear Joan exchange some more polite words and an affable farewell

She turns to do the same to you, and you hastily adjust your gape to a ducky smile in the nick of time.

-

“Wow, they offer confessionals, perfect for you to profess about the time you stole my portion of the Chinese leftovers in the middle of the night”

“Can you ple-ase shut up?!” you complain for about the fifth time

He’s been scanning the brochure and making snarky comments the whole time you’ve been heading home.

“Hey, I’m just saying it’s a great way for you to erase your sin” he grins

“Why’d you even take the pamphlet, Jun? I get it, you don’t believe in god. Was it just to make sassy comments?”

When he doesn’t respond, you turn your face to him and he’s wordlessly focusing ahead, seeming adrift in thought.

You always marvel of what goes on in his mind.

“You do though, right? Believe in god that is” He starts

You nod mutely.

His orbs fix on you, and you blush at the amount of intensity you can spot in his spheres.

“You told me you believe in him, after I told you I don’t. Saying he gave you hope…I-We never had the luxury to examine someone like him completely since there was not a day that our lives were composed. But now they are. We’re calmly advancing towards our house, and not that horrid place we once dreaded coming home to. So why shouldn’t we take our time to learn about him now, see what all the fuss is about. It’s a fresh beginning and so we should keep our minds,” he winks, “and hearts open, no?”

Taking it all in, you close your eyes, feeling overwhelmed but not willing to show him so. For so long, all you’ve wanted is for Jun to have a peaceful conscious and it looks like here, it’s finally possible. God would help you two together.

But then you frown as you recall something, “Is it really that? Or is it that Joan lady?”

Jun becomes greatly confused, taking a moment to process what you said

“…what?”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, “Did you think I didn’t see? You shook her hand for way too long! And what was up with you ogling her?

“What the hell are you talking about? She’s a way older woman and she’s not my type, I like mine sexier not that she wasn’t sexy bu-”

“That’s disgusting!” You gasp, before crossing your arms and storming off ahead of him

“Wait come back I was joking! Where did this even come from?!” He desperately shouts, running after you with all the bags from the mall tangled around his limbs

-

After dinner you had offered to wash the dishes. Jun had seen right through you wanting to abscond the rest of the minor unpacking by doing the dishes, but he let it slide. Scrubbing and rinsing through the pots and pans, you hummed your favorite lullaby as a kid. The one Jun always serenaded you to sleep with. He was in the hindquarters rummaging around in his room with his door closed. Your room was just before his, on the other side of the narrow hallway.

When the last dish was in the rack, you threw down your rubber gloves onto the marble countertop next to the sink and booked it to your room. Baggage was pleasantly placed on the edge of your bed, untouched. You got giddy, feeling like they were presents. It was 9:30 pm, and Jun said he wanted you in bed by 10. Tsk, he still treats you like a child. Searching through your stationary, you start setting your backpack for tomorrow. FallHaven high school was the second largest building, after the church, in the town and you were agitated. I mean it’s a small place, and everyone probably knows one another since grade school. How is a newbie like you gonna fit in?

You get to your wardrobe and find the school uniform you had picked up before you even stepped into your new house, hanged and neatly ironed. Curiously, you pick it up and inspect it closely. It was the typical school uniform, with a navy-blue blazer, a bright bleached white button-up shirt, and a green plaid skirt. What was different though, was the attachable thin black ribbon around the collar, and as you picked it up with your fingers, you could see ‘FallHaven’ inscribed on the end of one side in yellow thread.

From the bottom of your closet, you pick up the only two pairs of shoes you own. A worn-out duo of sneakers, and the feminine flats Jun had gotten you for your birthday last year. Shit, you should’ve bought a pair of shoes rather than anything else. Choosing the flats and crew socks you quickly disrobe to put on your get-up. Tying the ribbon was impossible, so you just let it fall to each side of your collar. Walking up to the body mirror in the right corner of your room, you do a few twirls in place to check yourself out.

“Would you look at that”

You shriek as you hear someone behind you. There Jun stands with a smirk on his face, leaning into your entranceway with his hands in his sweat’s pockets. His tank top was drenched in sweat and his wet black hair fell over his brows. The exposing sleeves made you see how much his arms had grown, musclebound limbs taking up most of the capacity of your irises.

“Y-you scared me!”

“You scared me!” He responds with that stupid grin, “Look how cute you look, like a total princess”

“Oh, my g-god, you’re so embarrassing! Leave immediately!” You yell out with a red face, not bearing to consider his proactive display

“Not until I take a picture of you first! Where’s my camera?”

“NOOO!!” you run and push your door into the entryway to kick him out of view, but he pushes back

“Heyyy, don’t be shy, you look so great maybe I should keep you all to myself tomorrow,” He laughs

You feel your face burning up as you struggle to push the door

“Stupid! You’re so stupid! Go away”

“Alright, Alright,” he surrenders, letting go of the door and having it smacked in his face

Locking your door, you jump cranium first onto the bed-who’s springs squeak and grate

“So, I can’t even give you a compliment?” You could hear the teasing in his voice

“Shut up you big goof! Are you playing ‘Let’s see how annoying I can be’ suddenly?”

“I love you too, your majesty! Goodnight!” Jun brings his mocking to an end and you auscultate him walking away in the direction of the kitchen.

And even after getting changed into your pajamas, stealthily avoiding Jun by rushing into the shared bathroom and brushing your teeth, and placidly getting into your bed and pulling up the covers; you could still sense embers of feverous happiness crawling upon your neck,

“I love you goof, goodnight”

-

“Get up or you’ll be late!” Jun shouts

“Mmm five more minutes” You rotate to the side and pull your blanket around tighter

“Are you crazy? School starts in 45 minutes! Get up now!” he hauls the comforter off you and you fall of the bed on your derrière.

“Ooowww” you whine in your drowsy condition, while rubbing your butt

“Perfect, now hurry up and get dressed so we can have breakfast together, and remember the walk to school is 15 minutes”

He leaves the room, with his pink frilly apron on and spatula in hand while you crawl out after him towards the bathroom

After urinating, flossing, washing your face, fixing your hair and all that good stuff you put on your uniform in your room. You take a moment to sit on by your practically empty dresser, and once over your face. You’ve never been a makeup person, not because you didn’t want to be, but because life didn’t allow you to. There used to be this pink lip gloss you had as a child, that you really cherished however.

Even though you don’t desire it, fragments of an ancient memory arises in your vision,

The broken handheld was the only image of yourself you had. It was shattered and missing from the bottom, with a huge crack displayed in the center of the whole mirror. The broken side had begun to rust, and it was slowly raising its way towards the rest of the glass. Your tiny hand didn’t care though, holding it up to your face as you carefully applied the gloss on your lips, just like she does.

You hear another crash from outside the dark room, this one louder than the previous ones and it makes you quickly hide under your blanket on the floor while you breathe heavily. Closing your eyes, you try and think happy thoughts.

After some yelling and another crash, the door opens, before shutting again. You’re petrified by now and shaking in your spot, making the whole blanket vibrate.

“Hey,” someone puts their hand on your head over the blanket, “It’s alright”

It’s Jun

You take off the cover and grab onto him, “I-I tried thinking happy thoughts, b-b-but it didn’t work, I’m sorry” you snuggle onto his torso, your miniature body fitting completely in his larger frame

“No need to apologize princess, you didn’t do anything wrong” Jun pats your head to comfort you, with his other hand draped around you

He was stick skinny, and you could feel his ribs as you rubbed against his chest,

“Let me see your face” He asks you gently

You move off him to provide a view of your face. The room was shadowy, but there was a small window on the right wall lighting up the area moderately.

“Whoa, you look like royalty, why’re you so pretty?” He exaggerates his expression of surprise making you giggle

You clutched onto the gloss container inside your fist, afraid he’ll take it away if he found it

Jun solemnly places a digit on the purple under your eye, and you flinch slightly

“Does it still hurt?” He whispers

You give him a big smile, not insecure to show him your missing baby teeth “No! I like it”

“It looks like that paint those girls put on in the tv!” you beam

Jun gives you an unrecognizable look, putting his head on top of yours. You feel him start to shake and notice the gash on his shoulder, flaky skin ripped around the limb, as if someone stabbed him with something sharp and twisted the object in his flesh before ripping it off

“You’re too pure for this place-”

You jolt out of it as Jun shouts your name

“Coming!” You shout back, getting up and nabbing your backpack to swing around your shoulder

“What were you doing for 25 minutes?” Jun interrogates from the kitchen as soon as your steps become apparent on the wooden fabric of the dining room, with his back in view. He’s messing with something, but you pay no mind to it

“Where’s the food” You ignore his question

“Is it not on the table, cause I’m sure I put it on the table, the one with the food on it, that table right in front of you, with the food, you know th-”

“Okay, Okay, oh my god,” you say with a mouth full of toast, having already sat down to consume the jellied bread while he made his sarcastic remarks

“When are you going to work” you ask him

“At 9, I’ll be home by 4 alright?”

“Mmm” you respond with a mouthful of OJ

He appears out of the kitchen and plants a lunch box in front of you and smiles, putting his hand on each side of his hips

“…There’s no way I’m taking that” His smile fades

“Why not?!”

“Jun, they told you they offer lunch! All the other kids probably eat at the cafeteria, I’m not gonna bring this and look like a mommy’s girl or something!”

Jun seems offended and puts his hand over his chest, just to show you how offended he was, “I can’t believe you care about what other people think, rather than me, who lovingly made this lunch for you! I even made bunny apples!”

You scream out of terror “ARE YOU CRAZY?! Do you want me to look like I’m 5?

“Maybe I do! At least you were nicer than and didn’t insult my food THAT I LOVINGLY MADE FOR YOU!”

“You are so childish! Eat the lunch yourself!”

“I already made one for myself thank you very much, maybe you should learn to make food for YOURSELF!”

“MAYBE I WILL!”

“FINE THEN!”

“FINE THEN!”

You grab your bag and storm out the front door, slamming it shut.

-

You finally notice the evidence of rain as you stepped in your 6th puddle and zone out of your subconscious. It must’ve been pouring last night. Argh, I should really be careful with these shoes till Saturday, you internally scold yourself, moving to the barren side of the road.

Your guilt however justifies that you sort of deserve it, for being so mean to Jun. Sighing, you reflect on how he got up extra early to make you lunch and feel even worse. You hated fighting with him, and it wasn’t a usual occurrence, so happening on the first day of school gives you a bad premonition. Why couldn’t you just take it and hide it in your bag to spare his feelings?  And you love bunny apples, so what’s the big deal? But you also wish he’d stop treating you like a child.

It’s not about the lunch box, but rather every time he says he misses when you were younger. As if you’ve changed so much, he doesn’t recognize, doesn’t see…doesn’t like you anymore.

You hate it.

Before you know it, your ears detect the sound of other kids in the near distance. Perking your head off the ground, you see students in similar uniforms heading toward the large open front gate of the school.

Ok, just act normal, act normal, act normal. No one must know you’re a freshie, you’ll be fine.

Their necks snag your attention suddenly. All of them had perfect ribbon tied bows on their collars, while you just droopily looped your ribbon together once.

“Great,” you mumble, so much for not looking out of place

Making it to the front gate, you turn to see the building you saw Saturday. You’re in admiration again, and those same butterflies appear in your gut. It’s a large red-bricked school, with white decorative foundation linings, and a beautiful white roof cresting. A large mansard gable sits at the head of the building, adorned with fish scale shingles. There was a small religious cross finial at the edge of the top, and hooded windows on each side of the front of the structure, and one in the face of the roof. The school was well thought out and stunning.

You take a deep breath, before walking to the open double doors. There’s a man that stands right in front of the entrance of the school’s hallway. Towering over you as you pass him, you give him a little good morning and he nods at you. He’s eminently pale and has deep dark circles under his lifeless eyes. His hair is matted against his large square head, and he garbs like he’s going to a funeral. Not a good start, you contemplate.

“Okay, first period calculus, room 306,” you whisper to yourself as your feet guide you along the stairs to the third floor and the polished tile hallway

302, 304, oh there it is! You stop right in front of the chocolate door of the math class. This is it, you raise your sweaty palms toward the knob, here you go. A chance at a normal life, a new outset, a bett-

“Are you not gonna go in?”

Startled you bounce back with a yelp, hand motionless in mid-air. When you manage to locate the cause of your sudden scare, your jaw almost drops to the floor.

The first thing you see is red hair. Silky, beautiful red tresses, enclosing the fair face of a young boy about your age. Handsome was an understatement. He possessed deep, penetrating monolids, with the illuminated hallway polishing beneath his somber orbs. His plump doll-like lips seemingly out of place to his otherwise masculine features; the fuchsia hue expensing his labium’s canvas making him look softer, younger. The portrayed youth extended by his chiseled jaw line, and his skin’s flawless artistry with not a blemish in sight. Someone like this must be hand carved by the devil himself.

His vibe is inimitable, unlike anyone’s you’ve perceived before. Hands in his pockets, callous attitude, unshakeable posture, all of it reminds you of those bad boys in the 70’s flicks. He demands attention so effortlessly, and when he slightly shifts his otherwise immobile head to the side, is when you realize the fact that you’ve been gawking at him shamelessly.

“H-huh?”

“I asked if you were gonna go in or not”

“Oh, umm yes o-of course,” you hastily grab the knob and bare the entry way open for him, so awkwardly that you’re trapped behind the door while he walks in, not giving you another glance

You cringe internally at your stupidity while walking into the classroom. You were nervous that everyone was gonna glower at you, but you notice that the few kids filling up the classroom had their eyes on the guy who entered before you. He was walking en route to the back of the room by the window. Not wanting to draw any awareness at your person, you took that time to quietly go sit in the desk in the middle of the room.

The classroom was brightly lit, yet not to the point of straining and suffocating the students. Looking at your feet, you see the floor sustained by mini dim white tiles, and the clean desks were a soft tan, each one separated a few inches from the other.  Forward was a huge clean white board, with an enlarged welcome back written in black ink. It was so different from your old school, where the desks contained carved slurs, so you could barely write on them and the walls grew dark yellowed mold. Teachers wouldn’t even show up days at a time. You were in awe at the smallest things.

Sitting there absentmindedly, you watched the room start to fill in. After about 10 minutes, the capacity of the seats was complete, and students had begun conversing with one another. Fidgeting the slightest in your seat, you wished to one day be a part of one of the kids chatting since you never had many friends before. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a girl to your right staring at you with her hand held up by her jaw. She’s probably just curious about if she’s seen you around before or not. You hoped she’d come strike up a conversation after class.

That’s when the bell rang making you sit up straight.

A minute later, in strolled a chubby instructor in a tan suit holding a large binder in his dextral arm

“Good morning,” he enounces, gathering his material by his table in the front

“Good morning Mr. Doug” the class replies in a faulty unison

The instructor makes small talk, and a joke that cracks up a few students in the first row. It seems like he already knows most of the schoolchildren, at least everyone in this class. There were around 200 kids in the whole school, so you wouldn’t put it past him. You were so grateful that this was everyone’s first day back from summer, and you didn’t randomly come here in the middle of the semester.

“Alright, as you all know this is your final schoolyear, I’ll explain what you can learn from this class and calculus in general” Mr. Doug unfolded his binder

As he’s about to talk again, the door expands open. It was a long-legged, extremely attractive man. He stepped into the room and bowed at your teacher. His elongated black coat making him look graceful and expensive. Then he turned towards the class, looking over you at someone behindhand,

“Master Jimin,” He spoke in a deep, respectful voice, striding past you making everyone’s head follow him, “I’m glad I found you, my apologies for not keeping up with your speed” he bows intensely with his hands folded on his thighs, at the good-looking boy you had met outside. “Jimin” doesn’t say anything, he glances at him, then back at Mr. Doug

“Start the lesson” the red head voices, in the same apathetic tone he used with you

“Oh! Yes, right away,” Mr. Doug scrambles to get back to his practice after the abrupt interruption

The remainder of the class goes smoothly, with you having some informative handouts by the time the dismissal bell resonates. Suddenly the room goes silent, and you become confused as to why they’re so still, when you hear the chair of someone behind you screech and two pairs of footsteps come your way. As soon as Jimin is in your line of sight, everything starts going in slow motion.

 Fleeting past you, he turns his head back to look at you. Out of nowhere you feel a spur of sparks underneath your skin, and the ambience converts into fire. You let out a loud gasp and gripe the material cloth around your chest. Perspiration appears on your brow and your breathing is heavy, you turn to look back at Jimin, bewildered and frightened at the pain you just caressed; to see him no longer looking at you…but not moving either. The black coat man is standing right behind him, just his coat in your perception. Jimin stands there with the back of his red head in your orbs. You’re unable to see his expression, but you don’t need to as he starts walking again, up and out of the classroom with that cold mask on his face and black coat man trailing.

Though you’re certain you peeked a frown on his ethereal features.

When you look around the room again, everyone had their eyes on you. Some look just as surprised as you, others were disordered. Even Mr. Doug gave you a strange face. You feel strangely exposed…and a sense of danger looms in the corner of your gut. Bit by bit, people get back to their business, gather their belongings and empty the classroom one by one, and sadly the girl who stared at you at the start doesn’t come up to you as you watch her walk out the door. Hiding your disappointment, you grab your things to head to your 2nd period class.

What happened in that room doesn’t vacate your mind for a second.

-

By the end of third period, it’s lunch time. The one thing you were dreading the most. You’ve watched movies, you know that the new student sits by themselves and watches all the other kids interact all noisily. Then suddenly the bully comes up and makes fun of the new kid and the whole lunch room laughs! Oh no. Biting your lip, you rigidly walk down the hallway until you enter the vast cafeteria.

You were right, it was noisy.

Kids took up the whole room, laughing and playing loudly. Boys making dumb jokes and girls leaning in whispering to each other, lost in their own world. Faded blue circular lunch tables accompanied the bright chalky chamber. Toward the end of the room, you spot a glass door that led to the outside, with more circular islands inhabiting the softly cemented pavement. That’s where you wanted to be. As quick as you can, you step up to the line for the lunch, left of the entrance. Grabbing a tray, you trace the person in front of you filling up your tray with items that you found pleasing

Contrary to the movies, the food looked delicious. Fancy school privilege maybe. There wasn’t even a “lunch” at your old school. You watch the person in front of you pay for his share of the meal and walk off and that’s when it hits you.

You don’t have money.

The fight with Jun had made you storm out in a rush, forgetting to ask him for change. He probably wasn’t gonna give you any anyway. You stand there, motionless; staring at nothing, while you feel the eyes of the cashier and the rest of the people in line, on you. Why do these things happen to you? What’re you going to do? You want to put your food back, but this doesn’t seem like the type of place you could do that without repercussions, especially social ones. Your worst nightmare is all at once coming true

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, n-

All of a sudden, someone puts a $5 bill on the section of your empty tray. You whip your head at them, wide-eyed, recognizing the familiar face.

It’s the girl from class…the one that caught your attention infirst period.

She smiles, “I got you, don’t worry”

You didn’t want to take her money, so you open your mouth to decline, but she slightly encouraged you up to the registrar with her palm, with a slight laugh. Paying with a heavy heart, you marginally move off the line to give the girl your thanks after she pays for her meal.

“Hey,” she greets you when she turns to see you obviously waiting for her

“Hi, umm-I’m so sorry you had to pay I’ll pay you back-it’s just I forgot my money because I was in a rush seriously I’m such an idiot”

“Okay, whoa slow down,” she giggles, “Come on let’s go sit first” She takes your arm in hers and you stiffen from shock at skin ship. Like stated, you never had many friends. And by many, you mean you only had one. No, it wasn’t Jun.

 She leads you past the lunch tables, through the glass doors to reveal an abundant atrium with cherry blossom trees, a checkered polished bluestone pavement, and open canvas windows in the surrounding building. The top sections of the building were surrounded by a terrace like roof, unlike the front of the school. They were closed off by a pointy white fence. It was beautiful.

“Holy fuck” you whispered, bending your neck to take every single detail in

“Right?” the girl snickers “I had the same reaction.” She sits you down in one of the empty lunch tables.

The girl had mid length caramel brown coils softly springing with her every movement. Her sepia soaked skin gleamed in the sunlight. Thin rimmed glasses sat on her nose, at the edge of which a small, unnoticeable mole resided. Irises were soaked in amber, alluring anyone who welcomed them with their own.

“Thank you once again,” you make out

She just angles her head to the side and gives you a wink, while you blush. Are all the students of this school magically hot?

Trying to focus elsewhere, you notice there weren’t a lot of people around, which had you bewildered. Why did they eat indoors rather than this fascinating space? Something was wrong.

“Umm, are we allowed out here?” you ask the stranger who’s already digging into her tray

“Well, technically you aren’t,” she says with a mouth full of sausage, “but I am” reaching into her shirt, she pulls out an id badge, “I’m with the honors society, and I can bring up to two people with me if I need.”

Underneath her name, which you now knew as Candace Angevin, in bold yellow ink stated ‘FallHaven Honor’s Society Pass Level B’

“Pass level b?”

“It means I’m permitted in some areas of the building most students aren’t. There’s pass level’s A, the most restrictive and pass level S, with that you can go literally anywhere. This school is a maze with tons of secret rooms, probably because it’s connected to the monastery”

“MONASTERY?!” You gasp

“You didn’t know? This town’s popularity is for that sole reason! See this side of building?” she points at the side away from the entrance “that part attaches to a far-flung horizontal structure, which leads to the back of the church”

Your mouth hangs open

She laughs out loud “It only leads to it, it’s not connected! But yeah, it’s built like that on purpose”

“Why?”

“There’s a tower in the middle”

At that exact moment, a quick breeze arises through the atmosphere, making you equally shiver slightly

“…A tower?”

“It’s called the angel’s tower and it’s a sacred place of prayer, for some of the higher-ups…some say around 120 years ago, an angel landed in that abandoned watch tower, with a grave warning to the village’s inhabitants. Apparently, babies were stillborn, disease plagued the town and crimes were at their peak. The famine was so great that some people had resorted to…cannibalism of their own kids”

You gulp and look at your tray of food, not very hungry anymore.

“But after that angel showed up, he gave the village folk a vision. With a major cautioning. It completely cured all their problems, and now FallHaven is the small yet profitable town it is today. That’s the reason everyone and their mothers here are so religious. Did you notice the absence of women in this town? Most of them live in the Monastery, to serve god and that angel”

“Wow…I can’t believe it”

“That’s cause it’s not true” she replies mischievously

“WHAT”

She laughs again “I mean I don’t know if it is. There are 9 different versions of this rumor, this is just the most popular one”

“Tsk” you pout picking up your fork

“Hey, I can’t help it if you’re too easy to fool hehe, what’s your name by the way hun”

You tell her your name while slurping on your noodles, “It’s nice to meet you Candace, I really am gonna pay you back”

“Shit don’t worry about it. I helped you out because I wanted to. Once upon a time I was in your position”

“You forgot your lunch money?”

“No, silly” she gets up from her side of the table and sits right by you, “I was a new student two years ago” She takes your ribbon in her hand, looping and tying the thin stable fabric around your neck appropriately. “There” she goes

You stroke your ribbon and smile. It feels exactly how hers is displayed.

“Thank you”

-

“Yes!” you shout reaching into your room and jumping on the warm cotton heaven that was your bed. “Mmm, I never wanna leave you again,” you muffle into the sheets

Hasteningly, you remove your shoes and socks, tingling your feet around. With the same energy you remove the heavy blazer and loosen your ribbon. Rotating in the bed so your eyes face the ceiling, you take in a breath and gleam. What a wonderful day!

Today went so, so much better than your brain made it seem like it would. You actually got to study, the teachers seemed all nice. Your history teacher told you a story about her cats, your sixth period teacher had donuts for the students, and there’s even a volleyball team you want to join in. And most importantly, you made a friend! Your very first official friend! Oh how exciting!

You told her about Joan and joining the church, which it turns out she’s already a member of! This way you can see her throughout the week a bit more. Being so happy makes your whole body flounder on the mattress, which eventually leads you to hitting the soles of your feet on the side rail, hard.

“Ow!” you scream, sitting up and applying pressure on the pain.

That’s when you recollect your first class, the pain you felt on that desk…the raging fire ripping your skin apart from your muscles…What was that? It happened when that Jimin guy looked at you.

Jimin…

Candance had told you about him. His name was Park Jimin and he was some kind of royalty and lived in the mansion in Votum Valley, which is located east of the school. It’s a hill-side area connected to FallHaven, where some rich people live.

“If you think this school is pretty, you should see Votum valley”

“What was up with that black coat guy” you ask her, gathering your things to leave lunch

“That’s his assigned special guard, all the three royalties have one. The school lets them do whatever, since they’re the main donors. You know how that stuff works. They could get teachers fired and fried, if they wished”

“There’s three of them?”

“Basically, they aren’t hard to spot, but one of them skips school relentlessly and the other is gone for the week on a special trip. They are a huge deal on campus, like have you seen their faces? It’s funny because all three of them hate each other and avoid the other at all cost”

Walking along the corridor to your next classes she becomes solemn “Hun…what happened in the morning with Jimin?”

“I don’t know! That was so strange, I was so confused. He looked at me and everything became painful,” you reply, shaking at recalling the incident

You both stop at an intersection where you had to part, she gives you a concerted look

“Just be careful alright? They’re all dangerous and it’s not a good idea to get involved with them”

“Dangerous, huh?”

You stare at your foot, lost in thought, when the front door opens. That’s most likely Jun.

Tipping to the edge of your entryway, you peak at the entrance and watch him take off his shoes. His hair’s a mess and he had black marks on his gray jumpsuit and hands. Your heart feels a pang. When he has his back towards you, putting his shoes on the shoe shelf, you quietly step up behind him and engulf his broad shoulders in a hug

“…Hi”

“Hey…rough day?

“Not really,” he sighs, “It’s the same work it was in that place. But better too.”

Peaking at the petty incisions on his fingers, you let out a heavy exhale.

“I’m sorry” You mush your face into his back

“Me too,” he turns and gives you a gentle smile, before mussing up your hair, “I shouldn’t have been so childish”

“No, I was the one!” you stop him, “it’s just that…Jun this is my first time at a normal high school. There’re actual people there! I’ve never…even once…” you shut your eyes, “…I just don’t want to mess this up, and my brain is telling me all these crazy things an-”

“Hey, Hey, hey,” he cups your teary face, “it’s okay, I understand…better than anyone…and since your lunch is still in the kitchen, now I won’t have to make dinner”

You smile in his palms “You’re such a goof”

He laughs and moves towards his room “I spoke with Joan today” he shouts back at you

You didn’t like hearing her name so casually from his mouth “Joan?”

“Yeah, that church lady,” he turns to you, “I’m serious about joining that church you know. Almost everyone in town is a member, and this is a good thing to build some friendships in the community. She’s asked us to come talk to the head board member this Saturday.”

“This Saturday? What about the shopping?”

“We can do both princess, don’t worry,” he winks, “now get dressed, we’re gonna go buy some fresh produce from the farmer’s market before they officially close for the season. Uncle Alp recommended it. I’m gonna go take a shower”

He walks into his room and you sigh. Moving to a novel town is such hard work

“Well, if uncle Alp recommended it”

-

A secular section in the center of the town had a detachable farmers market installed for the season. Summer was officially over next week, so this was the last day the farmers would contribute crops for the year. You and Jun wandered around through many colorful umbrellas and stalls. The fruits and vegetables were way larger than you’ve seen in grocery stores and uplifting. There were a few stands selling homemade items, such as jam or achar bottles. People crowded the center on the last day of the market, and every alleyway was jammed with products. The nearby shops were also getting attention, and everyone was loud and boisterous.

“How much is a carrot,” Jun asked, holding up the orange stick. He had already bought a bunch of other veggies and fruits and had a cloth bag full of them. Before leaving the house, he kept bragging about how he always came prepared because of said bag.

“$1 per pound,” shouted the heavy-set older man, in a gruntled tone while helping other customers in the rush

“A whole dollar!? Did you lose it? Have you seen your carrots? One of them could easily be 3 pounds”

“Then that’s like 3 carrots! Where’s the problem?”

You rolled your eyes and backed away from them arguing. You were about to step away altogether when-

“Look out!”

Suddenly a small white ball of fluff started roaring towards you and you screamed and hid behind Jun. The small ball started yapping right in front of Jun, while he laughed, and you held him in front of you as a shield.

“Hey little guy”

“Oh no I am so sorry!” you peek behind Jun to see a 30 year-old man in a white panama hat push through the crowd and face Jun. He bends down to pick up the monster and it turns out to be a little dog

“I am so sorry,” the man says again in a thick accent, “my mojo is very hyper, but he’s harmless!”

“It’s not a big deal,” Jun smirks, “I have someone like that myself,” he grabs you from behind with his arm and drapes you to his side

“You are very pretty miss! I’m sorry my dog scared you,” Says the man in white

“Thank you and it’s alright” you blush

“My name is Hector from Spain, and I am here with my crew!” Just then, a few other men holding camera, lights and other gadgets appear from the crowd, “we are here shooting the beauty of FallHaven!”

“Hello, Hector from Spain my name is Jun, and this is ____,” Jun reaches out his hand for a shake and Hector gladly obliges, “Why’d you choose FallHaven so far from home?

“Oh, my father came here when I was once a boy! He was in a scout of missionary men invited by the head of the church, he loved it here so much and always talk of it. After an illness, he had to move back to Spain and now that he’s in the last stages of his life I want to document the life and style he saw here and show it to everyone home!

“That’s amazing, your father would be so happy”

“I’d think so too, would you both like to be in my documentary?”

“Oh, we’d love to,” Jun scratches the back of his head, “but we aren’t really FallHaviens yet. We just relocated here three days ago.”

“Marvelous! How do you like it here so far?”

Hector introduces his crew and talks to Jun for a while. You stare at the messy little Pomeranian in the man’s arms and how it kept getting reckless. His petite legs kept flopping everywhere, trying to get loose. You hoped it wouldn’t run off again.

But looks like the world never listens to you and it jumps off Hector, barking and running into the crowd.

“Oh no not again” Hector shouts, and you all sprint after it. You end up getting separated from Jun in the immense crowd, but you are too focused on looking for the little dog on the ground. All you see are people’s limbs, so you huff and look around the atmosphere. In the spur of the moment, you spot a small ball type figure moving in one of the alleyways, making you rush towards it.

“Mojo?” you call once you’re in the alley, “here doggy”

Silence

You call it a few more times wondering around the passage with your hands cupped around your mouth. Bending to investigate small nooks and crannies, you expected to see shaky white fur, but there was nothing in sight expect a few bugs, which creeped you out.

Frustrated, you turn to step out the way you originated when you jump and let out a yelp.

There was an old lady standing at the spot you came in at the edge of the alleyway, just staring at you.

At a lost for words, you gaze at her, a bit too aware of how alone you were in the empty lane. The day’s become a bit dimmer, yet you can still make out her emergence.

She’s so old the skin of her cheeks is drooping down her face. Wrinkles swallow her skin, and her lips have protruded into her mouth long ago. Her stature’s short and stubby and her head is covered by a silk bandana tied to her chin. The hair peeping out of her bandana is slicked back, aged white, and looks fizzed.

Yet what really scares you is how full of life she looks. Her lips are hauled into a straight line, and her eyes are opened so wide, it looks like they’ll pop out of her skull. They have an immense hold on you and you’re terrified by her glare. She doesn’t even blink.

“I-is…Is everything okay ma’am,” you say quietly, shaking in your spot. She doesn’t respond.

Did I do something wrong you wonder

“Um-are you lost?” You take a minute to look around the alleyway, maybe her family’s nearby and she wandered off

But no one’s around, not even a kid. You were sure there were people here when you came in. The path had become darker, and it looked like here were dark clouds lining the sky, when you remember the sunny nature of the market just a while ago. It was eerie and strange. Your heart was beating in your ears.

Sighting silence, you turn back to face the woman and scream. She’s closer. So close, that the tip of your shoes is almost touching her bare toes. Looking at you through huge eyes, she stands as still as a statue in your space.

“Um-uh…ma’a-” You start stuttering before she grabs your wrist. You shriek at her sudden action and try to pull your hand away. Her fingernails are long and grimy, yellow and chipped, stabbing into your wrist with outstretched force. She tightens her grip as you struggle, and you feel tears clouding your eyes.

“Ha-saw-tawn ‘ohebh `azab zo'th e-rets” She speaks in a foreign tongue, with a menacingly measured voice which displays her rotten black tines

“Please stop,” you cry, trying to pry off her grasp with your other hand. But she’s too strong, and your wrist feels like it’ll crack in two. You’re full out balling right now, scared to death as she keeps repeating her sentence

“Ha-saw-tawn ‘ohebh `azab zo'th e-rets”

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?” Jun barges into your vision and pulls the old lady off you. Quickly discarding her to the side he steps up worriedly to your horrified face. He eyes you holding your wrist and gently places his hand on yours to silently ask you to let him see, he could feel you quivering as soon as he touches you.

You take your hand off to reveal a hard-red bruise forming around your wrist. “Fuck” Jun mutters. He places a finger on it and you wince, making him livid. You see his enraged face turn in the direction of the old woman still standing there with the same manifestation. Balling his fist, he makes a step towards her, when you clutch onto the back of his shirt.

“P-please let’s g-go,” you say through tears. Jun looks back at you with tenderness, but doesn’t move his stance, so you say it again

“Please”

He physically deflates and closes his eyes to gather his thoughts. Taking you under his left arm, he guides you away from the place, trying not to make eye contact with the old woman because that’ll make him furious. Leaning into him, you shut your eyes to shut out her face mentally.

As you guys start walking she says something which makes you jump again, but Jun ignores her and keeps moving

“A-vad”

She keeps repeating the same word and turns her face as you both brush past her in the narrow passage way. Jun says nothing, and you can see his jaw clenched. He stops a few feet from her to pick up his bags of produce he had dropped, and you take this time to look at her. The old woman had turned her whole body to face you, while she reiterates her word,

“a-vad…a-vad…a-va-“

“Let’s go”

You gasp, as you turn to face Jun. He takes you in his arm again when you nod and leads you out of the alleyway, and eventually the center. She never stopped repeating the word until she was out of your sight, and you wonder if she stopped at all.

[missmarquin]

Slow Healing Against a Purpling Sky, Chapter One (Modern AU, Sylvix)

Sylvain watches the beautiful West Texas landscape out the window as night falls. When he leaves the cafe, he heads for the motel. It’s small but clean, just like Mercedes promised. When he wakes in the morning and walks back to the cafe, he sees an old mechanic’s garage for sale. He pauses to look at it, head tilted to the side for a moment before moving on.

Sylvain meant to stay for an extra day, but he stays for a week because Mercedes is right, there’s just something about Pecos that’s homey and warm and loving.

At the end of the week he pauses at the shop once more before making the boldest, stupidest, dumbest decision he’s ever made. Instead of going to the cafe for coffee and a warm strawberry pastry, he goes to the bank instead.

He empties his private account and buys the damn place.

Read here on A03 for better formatting!

---

Hegira

Sylvain just drives. 

He drives and drives and drives, a random radio station blasting an eighties tune that he doesn’t really like, but he’ll listen to because anything is better than the alternative. 

His father screaming obscenities like Sylvain’s never heard before, slurs and other terrible, terrible, things flowing from the man like it was second nature. His mother hadn’t been surprised-- not really-- but she’s always known Sylvain better than he’s known himself. Suddenly it makes sense, her pursed expression at girl after girl he’d bring home, arm slung around their shoulders but enough space between them that’s as wide as the Rio Grande itself. 

Sylvain’s ears are still ringing from the slam of the front door. His father yelling as he chases after him, Gautier-this and Gautier-that, and we have images to uphold, and good Gautier boys marry well and pump out kids, and Sylvain will abide by this, he will he will he will--

His mother’s soft crying as Sylvain pulls on his leather jacket, her breath hitching because she knows the moment that he leaves that door, the moment that he walks right out-- it will be the last time she ever sees him. 

Sylvain hates that it had been such a hard choice to make, but there’s a point that you hit when you just can’t anymore, and he’s far past that, he’s been beyond that for years.

Footloose isn’t loud enough to drown out the deafening silence, so he turns up the dial as loud as it’ll go before rolling down the windows for a little bit of freedom. There’s wind in his wild red hair and the smell of the fresh prairie land as he speeds down old country highways. 

Dallas hadn’t been like this. Dallas had been large and loud, car horns honking and air like the backside of an industrial warehouse. Where high society knocks boots together at stupid state dinners, preening business ventures and futures full of empty marriages that mean nothing--

Sylvain pulls off to the side of the road, chest heaving and hands tight on the steering wheel, his knuckles bright white as they sear, fingernails digging tightly into his skin--

Sylvain breathes. He breathes again, eyes falling closed as he leans his forehead against the steering wheel. He doesn’t regret this. He doesn’t, he doesn’t, he doesn’t. The mantra seems to work as he calms down, letting go and breathing out a long sigh. 

He’s gone, he’s finally gone, he’s left and he can do anything he wants, and he hates that all he thinks about is how he should go right back. That he should apologize to his father for his mistake. Kiss his mother with a hug and promise that he’ll never leave again. 

But he doesn’t, he can’t, because as long as he lives in that tidy home in University Park, he’ll never be allowed to be himself and that’s--

Sylvain can’t say it. He’d finally admitted to it in a bout of anger towards his father, but despite that outburst, he still can’t bring himself to properly acknowledge it. To acknowledge his very being.

He glances at his phone. Nine missed calls, eight of them from Ingrid and one from his mother, quickly followed by a text message. It’s the latter that he pulls open and the words are kind-- the words are so kind that he can feel the prickle of tears at the corner of his eyes. 

He won’t cry though. He’s far too angry and bitter for that. 

Always be yourself.  

He wants to, he needs to, and now he’s given himself that opportunity, so no, he can’t go back, not when he’s finally walked free of that life and just started a new one. 

Sylvain glances at the dashboard clock. He’s driven for six hours and is nearly on empty, and as far as he’s gotten in the buttfuck middle of West Texas, he hasn’t seen a gas station in eons. He catches sight of a green billboard on the side of the road, crumpled over and dented like someone hit it and was never fixed. 

Pecos. Pop. 870.

He taps his fingers along to the beat of Africa as he thinks, mind reeling and trying to make the right choice. But there is no right choice, there’s the only choice, and it’s to finally take that freedom and just go go go. 

He shifts the car into gear, turning right at the sign and driving towards the burning red sun that drips into the horizon. 

…

“You’re not a face I’ve ever seen before. Are you from out of town?”

Sylvain jerks at the voice of the waitress, realizing that he’d been staring out the window at the purpling sunset. The woman is around his age, blond hair cut short and around her ears, and gray eyes that twinkle as she regards him with curiosity. 

“That obvious, huh?” he replies, scrubbing at the back of his head nervously. 

She’s holding a carafe of coffee in one hand, the other pressed gently against her cheek as she surveys him for a moment longer. Then she reaches out to fill his cup up. “It’s not as good as Hubert’s, but it’s coffee nonetheless.”

Sylvain’s not even sure what that means, but he takes the cup with a quiet thanks. 

“Do you mind if I sit?”

Sylvain’s surprised by the question, but motions to the chair across from him. She’s a pretty girl in her cream colored blouse and somewhat drab skirt, curvy in the right places with a bust that would be the envy of many, but as much as he tries, as much as he wants-- 

Nope, she just doesn’t do anything for him. 

“I won’t ask,” the woman says as she slides into the chair across him, “But people don’t find their way out here unless they want to.”

Sylvain finally gets a good look at her nametag. Mercedes. 

“I was just driving,” he tells her. “Ran out of gas and this was the closest town.”

“Where are you headed?” she asks him, serene and full of grace, and he finds that he doesn’t mind telling her, that he wouldn’t mind explaining things to her. But he doesn’t. 

“Anywhere,” he tells her instead, fingers wrapped around his mug to warm them. “Nowhere. I don’t care, really. Just anywhere that isn’t there.” 

Mercedes doesn’t seem to mind the vagueness of his words, only nodding with a small little hum. And then, her lips quirk into a sly little smile and Sylvain just knows that she’s a special one, this girl here. 

He looks back to the pink and purpling sunset and she follows his gaze. The silence stretches between them for a moment before Sylvain says something. 

“It doesn’t look like this back home. The sunset I mean.”

“Yeah, things tend to look a little bit different around here.” Then she turns to him, head cocked to the side. “As I said earlier, people don’t usually find this place unless they’re looking for it. I don’t know your story, but if you’re going anywhere, why not stay here for a bit? Clear your mind? The motel is clean and the food is good.”

“I’ll…” He trails off, but she waits patiently, hands folding neatly in her lap and the coffee carafe steaming between them. “I’ll consider it,” Sylvain finishes.

Mercedes smiles, tapping her finger against her lips before she stands up and leaves him. Moments later, she reappears with a small plate and fork in hand. 

“I didn’t--”

“It’s on the house,” she tells him, her voice soothing as she sets it before him, napkins quickly following. And then she flits away to take care of whatever she has to in the back. 

It’s an apple pie, crusty and golden brown. He’s never really been a pie person, but he’s hungry and he didn’t realize it and it’s free and Mercedes has just given it to him--

He doesn’t really deserve her kindness, but he takes a bite anyway. 

It’s the best damn thing he’s ever eaten.

Sylvain finishes it, watching the beautiful West Texas landscape out the window as night falls. 

When he leaves, he heads for the motel. It’s small but clean, just like Mercedes promised. When he wakes in the morning and walks back to the cafe, he sees an old mechanic’s garage for sale. He pauses to look at it, head tilted to the side for a moment before moving on. 

Sylvain meant to stay for an extra day, but he stays for a week because Mercedes is right, there’s just something about Pecos that’s homey and warm and loving. 

At the end of the week he pauses at the shop once more before making the boldest, stupidest, dumbest decision he’s ever made. Instead of going to the cafe for coffee and a warm strawberry pastry, he goes to the bank instead.

He empties his private account and buys the damn place. 

---

Sylvain stares at his phone for a long time before he finally hits call. The line rings three times and then picks up, and before he can even get a word in, Ingrid’s already yelling at him. 

“Oh so you are alive!” There’s anger in her voice which is nothing unusual, but it’s different this time, there’s something about her tone that makes Sylvain wince. “Which is good, because it means that when I finally see you, I can kill you myself!” 

“Ingrid, my best girl--”

“No,” she snaps. “None of that, Sylvain, I won’t hear any of it.” She pauses and he hears her take a deep breath, trying to suss out her words. He can just see her pressing her fingers to her brow, rubbing at the skin there wearily. “Three days.” There’s a waver to her voice and Sylvain sighs in resignation. “You haven’t texted me back and then I called your mother, and she just--”

Sylvain starts at that. “You what--”

“She was crying Sylvain! Not a word from you for an entire week and then you finally decide to reach out.”

Sylvain sighs quietly. “I didn’t call you to argue,” he says to her tiredly, already regretting the phone call.

“Sylvain, what have you gone and done now?”

“I’m in Pecos,” he tells her. “Six hours away. It’s small but the people are nice, and fuck, I had the best apple pie I’ve ever had in my life. And I watched the sunset-- you know that I’ve never really done that? It looks different here though, all purple and pink and I just--” 

“Sylvain--”

“I bought this old, run-down mechanic shop. It needs a lot of work but the equipment there is solid and maybe I can finally put my useless hobby to some fucking use. You know, make a difference or something.”

“Sylvain.” The moment she says his name though, she hesitates before asking, “Are you alright?” Her voice is quieter, less angry and full of concern. She’s never been without her love, but Sylvain can count on his hands how many times he’s actually heard that tone and he just kind of breaks down and--

“I told them,” he says to her shakily and he can hear the hiccup in her voice, and the words that she really wants to say, but Ingrid just makes a squawking sort of sound instead. “Stuck it to the man and then I stormed out of there before he could do much else. I drove until I couldn’t anymore and I pulled off to grab gas here and I--” He sighs. 

“It’s nice here. It’s quiet and the people don’t judge, and the sunset really is different and it’s just kind of… magical.” 

“I’m coming out there--”

“No,” Sylvain cuts her off. “No, there’s no need for that.”

“Sylvain, you bought a garage on a whim.”

“And oddly, I don’t regret it.” He pauses. “Yet.”

“Are you truly okay?” Ingrid asks him for a second time and Sylvain considers her question. 

Finally he tells her the truth, because there’s no point in hiding it from her. She’ll know, she always knows, because they’ve been attached at the hip since they were four and nothing can really break a bond like that. “No, Ingrid, I’m not.”

“Syl--”

“But I think that I will be,” he cuts in. “I just need some time.” He hears Ingrid sigh heavily, so he adds on, “You know that I love you, right?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “Goddess knows why I put up with you though.”

Sylvain laughs. “Will you keep an eye on Mom? Tell her that I got her text?”

Ingrid’s mother’s been dead for over a decade, so his mom has always just been Mom to her. He’s not going to risk his father’s anger by texting her back. Ingrid sighs once more over the line, this time out of weariness not annoyance. “Of course I will.” A pause and then, “Sylvain, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Sylvain laughs again, this time sharp as it leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. “Oh Ingrid, I never know what I’m doing.”

---

Sylvain’s mornings have a routine. 

He wakes up in his modest room at the Sunshine Motel. It’s clean and bright, sheets changed every few days because while he’s now a permanent fixture, he’s not picky either. The water is warm and because he’s the only guest, it never runs out.

Pecos is so small that it’s a quick walk to anywhere, so he trots across the empty main street to For Whom the Brew Tolls. He’s never put a lot of thought into his coffee, but Hubert does, and despite his gothic vampire-looking ass, he knows said coffee well. Sylvain always orders a medium A Brew, Darkly and proceeds to utterly ruin it with as much cream and sugar as possible. 

Hubert doesn’t have fangs that Sylvain can see, but he threatens with a near snarl at the idea. Ferdinand is nicer about it though, because he understands drowning the dark sludge as much as possible. And then, every day like the one before, he offers Sylvain a nice brew of tea which he takes without a thought. 

His next stop is The Grateful Bread, because he’s learned over the months that Mercedes has a wicked sense of humor and a taste for classic rock, which contradicts her sweet and demure disposition. He’s barely in the door before her hand is held out, not even bothering to look away from the morning paper. He gives her the tea and she gives him a pastry, and with a smile and wink he’s on his way again. 

She’s the best fucking baker in the world and her food is literal magic, because he’s pretty sure her pie is ninety-five percent of the reason why he stayed in this dumb town. The other five percent is more important though-- life changing, really, because Mercedes is like him. He likes it, he lives for it because no matter how much he flirts, she’ll only laugh and smile at him in return, a wide and genuine show of affection that means nothing more than that. 

It’s not a false show of Dallas socialite wealth and, for the first time in his life, being around a woman is refreshing, not daunting. 

He’s usually at his shop by ten in the morning. The town complains that he doesn’t open early enough for a proper mechanic, but, seeing as he’s the only car garage in the town, they don’t have much of a choice. The alternative is to wait, or to ask your neighbor who claims to know how to replace an engine and before you know it, you’re dishing out twice as much because they’ve fucked up the engine valves by putting them in upside down.

Buying the shop had been, admittedly, a wild and not-so-smart decision, but Sylvain has always lived life in the fast lane and he’s never done anything by small measures. It’d taken a bit of time to get it back to working order, but the place had good bones and enough equipment for a starting point. 

The first morning he’d properly opened the place, Mercedes had greeted him with a piece of that damn apple pie again and he should have told her no, he should have, but he super didn’t and if he could be in love with her, he absolutely would be. At first glance, Mercedes is kind of perfect on the outside, but once Sylvain had gotten to know her, he saw a darkness underneath that perfect surface that was well-recognized. It’s probably why they got on so well. 

And so, she gets her morning tea courtesy of Ferdinand and hand delivered by Sylvain himself. Ingrid would always be his best girl, but Merce was slowly wedging her way into a special place in his heart. 

She’s a balm across his heart, because he’s emptied his account to buy his dumb garage and he’s drowning in debt. He’s been living off of the kindness of Mercedes’ free pastries and Hubert’s half-priced coffee at Ferdinand’s insistence. Hubert’s vowed to charge him double later on when he can afford it, and Sylvain isn’t unsure that he and the ginger-haired teamonger aren’t actually a match made in hell.

The Motel insists that he only pays weekly-- and Sylvain’s almost certain they aren’t charging full price either, and the pink-haired and loud bartender at the Pecos Grill gives him free sodas with a wink. 

Despite all of this overwhelming gratitude and immense debt, it’s been a long time since Sylvain’s been able to be himself and… it’s a nice feeling. 

For the first time in his life, he’s kind of happy, and that’s saying something. 

---

The beginning of the rest of Sylvain’s life comes in the form of a foul-mouthed, dark-haired man with circles under his eyes that are sharp enough to cut a hand on. 

Sylvain’s early to the shop for once, because of a sleepless night filled with nightmares, restlessness and one angry text message from Ingrid. She’s still annoyed at him for refusing to answer her calls, but he needs time, he needs time to figure things out. 

And while he loves Ingrid and she loves him, patience isn’t one of her virtues. 

Still, early isn’t early enough for some, apparently. He’s barely got the key in the front door when he hears a scoff from behind, and he turns to find a man leaning against the hood of the rattiest looking Mustang he’s ever seen. Really, the car is a fucking travesty and the vintage car-obssessed fool within Sylvain is cringing at the rust that lines the belly of the thing.

“It’s nine in the morning. Why the fuck aren’t you open?” 

Sylvain raises an eyebrow, letting go of the key and turning to the man. “I make my own hours,” he replies smoothly. The dark-haired man sneers, arms crossed in front of his chest and foot tapping impatiently against the ground. 

“Don’t you know how garages operate? You open up early enough for people to drop off their cars before work.” The man pauses, his scowl souring even further. “I know you’re new to town, but do you even know what you're doing?”

“As in owning a garage?” Sylvain asks. “Not a fucking clue, but if you mean working on cars, then I’m your man.”

The other man’s brows raise as if he’s briefly amused. “Doubtful.”

Sylvain nods to his own car which he keeps parked at the garage. Safer than the Motel Parking lot and since he walks everywhere, he doesn’t really need it at all hours of the day. “That ‘68 Lambo didn’t restore herself.”

“I’m sure it didn’t, but the man that you paid to--”

“Are you here to drop off your car or not?” Sylvain cuts in and while he’s decent at hiding his anger, it’s hard with this particular asshole of a man. The other man starts, tching in annoyance. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with it,” he admits, pulling himself away from the hood. “I was able to drive here, but it’s making the strangest noise and I don’t want to push it further.”

Sylvain strokes his chin in thought. “Well, I’ll take a look but I won’t know till I get under her hood.”

“Her,” the prickly man repeats. “It’s a car.”

“That’s a ‘68 Mustang and it’s definitely a her. You’re a dick, but you have taste.”

“It’s not mine.”

“Then whoever she belongs to has good taste.”

“Whoever is dead.”

Sylvain frowns, the mood immediately tense, but it’s the other man who relents with a long sigh. “Look, just take a look or whatever, and give me a call when you figure out what needs to be done. Some people were expected at work three hours ago.”

Sylvain doesn’t know what kind of job would require you to be at work at literally dawn, but it's definitely not a job that he would ever want. Before he could even reply, the man thrusts a business card and keys into his hands. “I have orders to catch up on, so make sure it’s later in the day.” 

The man doesn’t give a proper goodbye, he just turns to leave and Sylvain watches as he rounds the corner without another word. Dick. But then he looks at the Mustang and there’s this pang through his heart as he steps towards her. 

“Oh honey, he doesn’t deserve you,” he whispers, running his hand along the pockmarked hood. 

He pockets the car keys and looks at the business card. “Felix Hugo Fraldarius,” he says, mouth curling around the name with a little bit of difficulty, because it’s long and unwieldy. “Farrier--” His eyes narrow as he scrutinizes the words. “What the fuck is a farrier?” he wonders aloud, pocketing the card and glances woefully at the car once more.

“It’s okay,” he says, once more patting her hood. “We’ll fix you right up.”

---

Sylvain doesn’t usually trip into the coffee shop more than once a day because he values his sanity, but for the sake of the beautiful red Mustang, he’ll make an exception. 

Hubert stares at him over the espresso machine for a long moment and then says, “Why are you asking me?”

“Come on Hubie--”

“Call me that again and I’ll boil you alive--”

“I want something to bring as a peace offering. You know, to placate the man. He was angry this morning even though I opened the shop earlier than I normally do. How’s he going to react when I explain that his timing belt is so fucked that it chewed up his engine?” 

“Sounds like your problem, not mine.” Judging by Hubert’s tone though, an angry Felix sounds like everyone’s problem.

“It’s not that it’s a problem, Hubert,” Sylvain eases, “I’m just asking for a little bit of help.”

“By asking what his regular coffee order is.” Hubert looks away, pouring milk into a cup before pressing it under the steam wand. “I strictly abide by Barista-Client Confidentiality.”

“Barista-Client Confidentiality-- That’s not even a thing.” 

“It is at For Whom the Brew Tolls. Buzz off.”

“Oh don’t listen to him,” a chipper voice says from the front register and they both turn to look at Ferdinand in his ginger-haired and finely freckled glory. Sylvain’s never liked a man-bun on anyone, but… it’s not entirely awful on the man. His cable-knit burgundy and cream sweater is far more offensive… if Sylvain were one for fashion. “Felix usually has a blonde roast if he’s having coffee, black as his soul-- but I’ll let you in on something.” Ferdinand leans in close, like he’s telling Sylvain a secret. “He actually prefers tea--”

“Nonsense,” Hubert cuts in. Sylvain almost laughs aloud at the pout the Ferdinand throws on at the sight of Hubert’s scowl. “Seriously, promoting your pansy water over a nice cup of--”

“He likes Almyran Pine needles,” Ferdinand interrupts with a subtle grin, leaning against the second espresso machine casually. 

Hubert regards him coolly over the current drink he’s working on. “Pecans, maple and hints of vanilla, with enough caffeine to fuel an army--”

“Now guys, it’s not a competition,” Sylvain tries to interject, but neither man is listening, solely focused on each other. 

It’s not the first time he thinks that they’re a weird pair. When Mercedes had told him that they were married, Sylvain had honestly thought she was joking. He can see the appeal in Ferdinand at least, with his clean skin and charming smile-- but Hubert? 

He looks like he stepped out of a gothic poetry book and settled into the wrong century. But Hubert is staring at Ferdinand, like truly staring, ignoring the milk cup in his hand as he over steamed whatever latte he was in the middle of, because he’s so thoroughly distracted by his husband. The good kind of distracted, that makes you feel like you should be anywhere else, except for right there and watching.

Sylvain’s one part jealous, one part annoyed, and every part tired of dealing with them. 

“I’ll just take the blonde roast,” Sylvain finally tells Ferdinand, and it’s like they’re snapped from whatever spell they were under. Ferdinand pulls away from the spare machine. 

“I’ll have to do a pour over because we don’t keep a carafe of that--”

“You’ll ruin it--” Hubert says, but Ferdinand rolls his eyes before looking back at Sylvain.

“Three years here and he still thinks I cannot brew a cup of coffee.”

“You can’t.” 

“Maybe not to your standard,” Ferdinand says tartly, eyes sweeping over the entirety of his husband, slow and pointedly. “That’s alright though. There’s plenty of things that you can’t do to a standard just as well. Felix won’t care either way because he’d prefer to directly inject caffeine into his veins.”

That’s a feeling that Sylvain can get behind. Hubert scowls at Ferdinand’s back, but it’s not without its weird brand of affection. 

“Say, Hubert,” Sylvain asks, leaning against the counter that housed the back of the machines as he scrutinizes the slightly dopey expression the man wears. “What do you find attractive in Ferdie?”

“That’s something that I won’t answer.” A pause, followed by a threatening narrowing of the eyes. “And don’t call him Ferdie.”

Sylvain shoots him a dopey smile in return. “No promises. Also, I’m only curious.”

“I have no doubt about that.”

Sylvain frowns at the jab, but before he could ask more, Ferdinand appears at his side with a steaming cup. “On the house,” the man tells him. “I hope we’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“What? Why wouldn’t you? I come every morning.”

Ferdinand laughs at that. “Yes, well, you’re also about to enter the personal space of one angry little man. I wish you luck in your endeavors.”

Sylvain pauses, eyes narrowing as he looks back at Ferdinand. “You can’t tell me he’s actually scary. He’s like this tall.” He motions to just under his chin. 

To his surprise though, it’s Hubert that answers. “Felix is a nasty creature. Ferdinand is only trying to warn you.”

Sylvain blinks in surprise and then eyes the coffee warily. “Well, too late for that.” Then he smiles back at Hubert. “Besides, who can resist this charming smile?”

Hubert doesn’t even warrant that with a reply. 

....

Sylvain still doesn’t know what a farrier is because he’s too lazy to properly google it, but he isn’t expecting Felix’s office to be an outdoor workshop. 

He’d found the building easily enough, but had to round the entire edge of it to find the entrance, only to be surprised by a garage that was not unlike his own. The coffee is hot in his hand though and he’s already burned his thumb on dripping liquid, so he hurries into the workspace without a thought, only to look up and--

Sylvain stops dead at the sight of Felix. 

The garage here actually isn’t anything like his own. There’s a traditional if somewhat low-tech forge off to the side, blazing hot with nearly purple flames. Felix is beside it, wearing loose khakis and stripped down to a thin v-neck shirt. The black cotton makes him look paler, but his cheeks are flush bright red with the heat of the room and he’s a literal sweaty mess, dark bangs plastered to his forehead while the rest of his hair is pulled high up into a ponytail. 

Sylvain hadn’t noticed his hair was long before. Why hadn’t he noticed that? 

Felix is working, hammer heavy in a gloved hand as he uses tongs to hold a red-hot billet still, striking down in a quick stroke, lean muscles rippling with sheens of sweat and--

There’s always one point in a person's life where they see someone and time just stands still. Like, everything else just disappears and the only thing there is the person you’re looking at, and it’s like it just punches you in the gut, because they look perfect, they feel perfect, they are perfect, they are the only thing that exists and it’s all consuming and it just burns through you and--

Sylvain drops the coffee in his surprise and Felix looks up, mid stroke to watch the cup skitter across the floor. 

“Are you mad?” he snaps. “Don’t you know how dangerous it is to sneak up on someone working like this?”

No, because Felix is apparently a fucking blacksmith, which Sylvain assumes the word farrier is a fancy term for and he’s probably wrong, but he’s distracted. He’s very very distracted right now.

Felix isn’t his type; his type is… well actually, he doesn’t really know what his type is because he’s never really given it a lot of thought because he’s so fucking repressed and--

“And you’ve gone and made a fucking mess,” Felix continues, carefully placing the billet aside to cool. He pulls off his gloves and throws them against the anvil, and Sylvain can just see the annoyance radiate off of him. 

“I-- uh, well--” But he’s not the most articulate, so he drops to pick up the cup instead, rubbing at his hair sheepishly. “I thought this would be easier in person than over the phone because uh--”

“And so you brought me coffee?” 

“As a peace offering? Yeah.”

Felix sighs before pulling a rag out of his pocket and wiping the sweat off of his face. All he does is drag soot across his cheek though and Sylvain wants to reach out and rub it away with this thumb and-- 

He swallows shakily at the thought, ignoring it, ignoring it. “So when was the last time you replaced the timing belt?” Sylvain finally asks. 

“The what now?”

“Oh wow, okay that explains a lot--”

“Just spit it out,” Felix snaps, crossing the forge to pull a towel from a cabinet. He drops it on the floor, using his foot to kick it around and soak up the spilled coffee. “What do I owe you?”

Sylvain winces. “In my honest opinion, you shouldn’t bother.” Felix stops at that, staring at the floor for a long moment, and Sylvain wonders what he’s said to put that kind of look on his face. 

But then Felix goes back to mopping up the mess without a beat missed. “Nonsense,” he says to Sylvain. “What do I owe you?”

“The timing belt is pretty shredded,” Sylvain says, leaning against an unused anvil and he hopes Felix won’t get annoyed. “I’m surprised that you made it to the shop actually, but that drive probably destroyed the engine.”

Felix looks up at that, blinking at him. “And how much is a new engine?” he asks, like he’s trying to draw out information from a five year old who keeps dodging around the answer. 

Sylvain supposes that Felix isn’t entirely wrong in that respect. 

“Look, you probably don’t want to know--”

“How much?” This time there’s actual bite to the words, not the annoyed-yet-slightly-teasing tone used earlier that morning.

“You’re looking at like seven thousand dollars, including all the labor,” Sylvain finally says with a wince, mentally preparing himself for whatever blowback is about to happen. “And I fucking swear to the Goddess that I’m not overcharging-- I’m actually undercharging.”

Felix leans over to pick up the soiled towel, considering. “Okay then,” he replies, tossing it into a laundry bin tucked into a dark corner. “Whatever the cost.”

Sylvain flounders for a moment. “You could buy a decent car for less. Something that’s in better shape, because even if I fix the engine, you’ve got a lot of other problems and that’s not even including the smaller things like rust and dents and--”

“Whatever the cost,” Felix repeats. 

But Sylvain blabbers on, uncharacteristically nervous in his verbose monologue. “I mean your water pump is barely hanging on, the undercarriage is literally missing entire bolts and--”

“Sylvain--”

And it’s in the moment that Sylvain realizes that he’d never properly introduced himself that morning, what kind of mechanic is he and how does Felix even know his name--

“I’m not getting another car. Order the parts and I’ll contact you in the morning for final details.” Felix’s tone isn’t mean, it’s just very… curt. Sylvain knows that it’s a fruitless effort. 

“You know, if you took better care of it, it wouldn’t have even come to this point,” Sylvain blurts. Felix’s face immediately darkens, his face twisting with a snarl and Sylvain remembers Hubert’s words about how Felix was a nasty creature, and he knows that he’s definitely said the wrong thing. “Look I--”

“Out.” 

Felix could have said nastier words, but that one is dripping with poison and Sylvain knows better than to stick around longer than invited, because there’s a very hot forge and very dangerous tools laying around, and Felix seems the type of man who would absolutely kill someone and dispose of the body personally. 

“I’ll uh-- Yeah, I’ll order those parts for you. Tomorrow then.” 

Sylvain bolts before Felix can yell at him more, and he really, really hopes that he hasn’t fucked this up. 

The job, he means, because Sylvain doesn’t have time for any other distractions.

…

“You seem distracted,” Mercedes tells him later that night. They’re at the Pecos Grill, chilling in the bar, her hand wrapped around a delicate glass of the hardest fucking whiskey that they carry. She might be sweet and loving, but she’s never been one to do anything by half measures, and that includes drinking liquor.

“Tell me about Felix,” Sylvain demands, fingers wrapped around the stem of an awfully tacky margarita glass, stirring it gently with a straw. 

She blinks at him, momentarily surprised, but then her lips quirk into a small and knowing smile, and immediately Sylvain is on the defensive. “It’s not what you’re thinking,” he says quickly. “I’m just curious. He’s a very angry man.”

“Felix has been here forever,” Mercedes finally tells him, swirling her glass around idly. “And by that I mean he’s born and raised here, generations of family before him on the same plot of land kind of born-and-raised.”

“And yes, he’s an angry man,” another voice cuts in. Mercedes and Sylvain look at the barkeep pressed against the counter, indelicately leaning into their conversation. “Sorry, couldn’t help but overhear.” There’s two types of barkeeps-- those who keep to themselves and those who over involve. Sylain’s learned that Hilda is definitely the latter. Her hair’s tied up into twin buns and there’s the loud clack of chewing gum, lips smacking around it. 

“He’s all bark and no bite,” Mercedes assures him, but Hilda laughs. Sylvain regards her once more, but the woman rolls her eyes and shrugs. 

“Look, Felix is a weird dude. He usually hates everyone on principal. Whatever happened between the two of you… don’t take it personally.”

“Nothing happened--” But Hilda leaves before he can finish, flittering towards the end of the bar to take the order of a blonde-haired man with an eyepatch. Sylvain’s seen him once or twice, but stayed far, far away after witnessing the man have an in-depth conversation with himself. 

“So he did take the car to you?” Mercedes asks. 

“I was wondering how he knew my name--”

“Everyone knows your name, Sylvain.” He pauses at that, because she’s right. Word travels like wildfire through small towns and he’s been in Pecos for several months now, so he shouldn’t even be surprised. “But yes, I told him to take the car to you. What’s the damage?” 

“Too much.” Sylvain groans at the thought. “Honestly, seeing a classic in such a state, it kills me Merce. Does he even know anything about cars? He didn’t know what a timing belt is.”

She looks amused as she says, “Probably not. He doesn’t drive much.” 

“I told him that he should buy a new car. This one’s not really worth fixing, she’s a literal money pit.”

Mercedes frowns and Sylvain is immediately put off. She’s a close friend now, they spend most of their nights together chatting, but he’s never seen this look on her face and it’s off-putting in a way that makes his stomach literally crawl. 

“I knew it,” Sylvain bemoans. “I pissed him off.” He’d immediately known he’d said the wrong thing by Felix’s reaction, but by just how much did he fuck this up? “What’s up with him and the car?”

“It’s special,” Mercedes says quietly, lips pursed slightly as her gaze dips far away. Sylvain decides right then and there that he never, ever, wants to see this look on her face again. “The person it belonged to was special.”

“Got it. Former girlfriend or something.”

Mercedes is amused by the assumption, but it’s drowned out by the utter sadness in her gaze. She isn’t the type to issue any sort of dismissal, which is why Sylvain has come to love her-- genuinely love her-- so much, but he’s learned over the years when it’s appropriate to stop forcing an issue. 

He backs off, taking a large gulp of his drink. “Well, he said to fix it at any cost, so I ordered the parts after I left the forge.” He pauses. “Also-- a blacksmith?”

“Farrier,” she corrects. 

“What’s the difference?” He can tell by her face that it’s a dumb question, but his mind is a little fuzzy with drink and he’s still too lazy to google it. 

“He shoes horses, not that he doesn’t have hobbies on the side.” Honestly the idea of the prickly man having any sort of hobby was laughable. 

“Shoes horses-- Oh.” Sylvain’s not a stupid man, but he can be slow at times. 

“Family business,” she says with mirth, the sparkle settling slowly back into her eye. 

“Yeah, he seemed to know what he was doing.” 

Lithe, corded muscles glistening with sweat and-- goddess damn it’s been too long. He drowns the rest of his drink with impressive gusto, Mercedes raising her brows at the display. “I hope I haven’t wasted my money. I’m half convinced he won’t show up tomorrow morning.” 

“He will,” Mercedes reassures him. “He’d do anything for that car. 

Sylvain grunts in reply.

“A word of advice from someone who’s known the man his entire life,” Hilda says, sliding in between them once more. She leans over the counter to coyly display her low-cut neckline. “Don’t engage longer than necessary. I like you alive.” Then she winks at Sylvain and he winks back, even though he feels nothing, even though he tries. Even if it’d make this entire thing so much easier. 

Hilda drops a fresh drink in front of him and he sighs in relief, because he’s way too sober to be dealing with this. Before he can down the drink though, Mercedes reaches out, her fingers soft and warm against his wrist. 

“Sylvain,” she says softly and he caves, taking a small sip through the straw instead. 

“Last one, Merce,” he finally says. “I promise.” 

If this were back-home in Dallas and the end-of-the-night party post state-dinner, he’d be attached at the hip of the most scantily clad woman he could find, downing enough liquor so he could at least try and pretend. 

But this isn’t Dallas and as much as he likes Hilda’s margaritas, he likes the comfort of Mercedes’ warm smile and ever understanding patience instead. He won’t wake up in a pile of sheets and naked limbs, more disappointed in himself, than whoever he was with.

Instead he goes back home with Merce and they binge watch reruns of the Bachelorette, while stuffing their faces with the leftovers from the bakery. 

----

Sylvain doesn’t bother waiting for Felix the next morning. 

He’s at the shop early again, unlocking the office door at an appalling seven AM. His night had been restless once again, but he’s traded angry memories of yelling and slurs, for images of sweaty and flushed skin, rippling muscles and imagined whines, dark hair pooling around shoulders and--

Nope, nope, nope he needs to stop that right now. 

He drops his bag in the lopsided desk chair and decides to forgo any paperwork, because there’s absolutely no way that he can possibly concentrate on numbers and bank accounts and financing. So, by eight-thirty, he’s managed to haul the old Mustang into the Garage proper and hoist her up. 

He pats the hood gently, fingers catching slightly on the rust there. “Pitiful,” he sighs. “If he’s so in love with you, why’s he let you get like this?” The metal is cold under his fingers as he taps at it lightly before pulling back. “Whatever the cost,” he murmurs, echoing Felix’s ridiculous request from the night before. 

Sylvain’s suggestion hadn’t been unreasonable, but Felix had gone from sightly annoyed to angry enough to explode, in the span of several seconds, so clearly there was something more there. Mercedes had confirmed it with her comment later in the night that the car was special. 

Obviously, Sylvain thinks with a frown, but he doesn’t dwell on it longer than he has to, getting to work on the car. 

Around nine in the morning, there’s a kick to the right front wheel well, and Sylvain curses in surprise, jerking up and knocking his head against the undercarriage where he’d been situated. He slides back on the creeper, rubbing at his forehead with a soft groan, only to meet the face of a surprised Felix. 

“It’s before ten and not only are you here, you’re actually working?” Felix’s tone is sharp, but it’s not angry, and Sylvain lets out a breath that he wasn’t even aware he’d been holding. He sits up properly, eyes raking over Felix’s form. 

He looks good in loose track pants and a plain navy t-shirt. His hair is pulled back neatly and he looks fresh, despite the apparently permanent circles under his eyes. Sylvain has no idea why he likes the look of them, because on anyone else they’d be ugly little shadows. Sylvain sighs at the sight of him before--

“Goddess, is that coffee?” Felix is holding a carrier with two takeaway cups. 

“What was it you called it last night? A peace offering?” Felix lifts the cardboard slightly, motioning to the office. “I… figured I should apologize for--” But then he sighs, annoyed. “Just take the damn coffee.” He says the words so quietly that Sylvain’s gaze narrows shrewdly. 

“You don’t seem the type to apologize.”

“I’m not.” The testy edge to his voice has crept back in, but then Felix sighs, dragging a spare hand through his bangs, mucking up his neatly styled hair. “Look, let’s just-- let’s get everything settled. I have other things to do today.”

Sylvain pulls himself up properly, wiping at his forehead with a rag and motioning to the office. Once inside, Felix drops the coffee onto the desk before settling into the chair. Sylvain watches Felix finger the worn edge of the splintered wood. He’s not like him, Sylvain realizes, Felix just doesn’t do people well. Mercedes had told him, Hilda had told him, even Hubert had warned him but… 

Felix looks visibly disturbed at the moment, like he wants to be anywhere else. 

“You’ve tidied it up in here,” Felix finally says. “This office was always a mess.” He must have seen Sylvian’s confused glance, because he adds, “It’s the only garage in town. Do you think I’ve never had a car worked on before?”

Sylvain decides to not tell him that yes, he’d absolutely thought that, moving to open a manilla folder instead. “So the immediate problem is the engine, as I told you last night. The timing belt is what helps time the rotation of the crankshaft and camshaft, so the engine valves close and open at the proper time. So when it--” 

Felix is ignoring him, popping off the lid of his coffee to check it, before taking a sip. 

“Right uh, probably too much info. Point is, the engine’s entirely destroyed, it’s a hard model to find and it’s labor intensive. I wasn’t joking about the seven thousand at least.”

“I wasn’t joking about whatever the cost.” Felix points to the other cup and Sylvain drops the folder, gabbing at it. “Hubert refused to fix it the way that you do and wouldn’t tell me anything more than an absurd amount of sugar and cream. So I just dumped it in there until it didn’t look like coffee anymore. Take it or leave it.” 

Sylvain tips the lid, finding the color of the coffee to look satisfactory enough and a quick sip confirms. Felix grimaces, sharing Hubert’s views on how he takes his coffee. Popping the lid back down, Sylvain sighs. “The engine’s just the tip of the iceberg,” he tells Felix. “She’s got so many other problems, and all of them make her dangerous to drive.”

“So what’s your point?” 

“How much are you actually willing to spend on her?” Sylvain asks. 

“I said--”

“I know what you said,” Sylvain cuts in. “But promising whatever the cost, is vastly different when it comes down to the actual numbers. You’re looking at tens of thousands of dollars.” Sylvain pauses. “Look, I’m happy to do the work for you if that’s really what you want, but I’m laying all the cards down here. It’s a lot of work and it will be expensive. I’m asking this not to be rude, but because I’m honestly curious-- Is she worth it?”

Sylvain expects Felix to get angry like the night before and just leave, but he doesn’t. Felix is quiet as he stares at his coffee cup, like he’s trying to carefully word whatever it is that he’s about to say. 

“I’m not expecting you to understand,” Felix finally starts, suddenly weary and tired and clearly wanting to end the conversation before it properly starts.  “But the car is worth everything to me.”

Sylvain is surprised by the quiet sincerity in Felix’s voice. “Alright then,” he says, dropping the folder on the desk between then. “I’ll make a full list of work, compile a price on parts and labor, and I’ll let you know.” 

Felix nods shortly before standing to leave, but Sylvain starts again, making him pause at the door. “You know, you’re my first real customer here. The work on her alone will keep this place afloat for a while.”

Felix sighs, rubbing his fingers across his brow. Sylvain doesn’t know him very well yet, but there’s an inkling that the motion is out of character. “My apology was honest. There’s a lot that you don’t know and it’s unfair of me to expect you to.” 

Sylvain has assumed as such. “I know it’s hard for new people to come to a small town like this and just wedge themselves into everyone’s quaint little existence, but I’m happy for the work. So thanks.”

Felix hesitates before saying, “Tch. I guess.” And then he’s gone. 

Sylvain isn’t sure that he’ll ever quite figure the man out, watching the door long after Felix is gone, but there’s a desire there that makes him want to. He wants to get to know Felix better, and it’s not his high cheekbones, or silky hair, or those damn muscles. There’s something else that lurks underneath the surface of the harsh exterior, just like everyone else in this damn town, and Sylvain’s determined to figure out what it is. 

But first, the car needs a nickname.