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stevetonyweekly · 2 years

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SteveTony Weekly - March 27

Happy Sunday!! Here’s what I’ve been reading this week. As always, leave your fic authors some love if you read and enjoy their stories!

**Indicates my recent favs

~*~

***all in by spqr

What matters is that Steve only hates him 99% of the time now, and the other 1% of the time they laugh together and fight side by side and they’re friends.

Tony’s used to having to wring little bits of love out of people.

He can do it.

i intend to end up here. by meidui

It’s 1945 and Steve has been assigned a K9, a German shepherd that he handpicked out of the litter.

bloody lips and chamomile tea by meidui

Tony’d stumbled his way to Steve’s apartment and nowhere else even in his weak, bloodied haze, and that must count for something.

If You Love Me for Me by iam93percentstardust

Trepidation, Steve reminds himself as the car pulls up in front of the church. He must look nervous and wary when he climbs out of the car, not excited and besotted. He’s marrying Tony to put an end to the decades-long war between their countries; that’s the fiction they’ve sold to their families and their peoples. He and Tony had spent hours during their clandestine meetings putting together this plan. He won’t ruin it by revealing prematurely that the secret lover his people have been speculating over for months is, in fact, the prince of the country they’re at war with.

****angels who sin by meidui

Summer air is thick and sweet, like Tony's voice pouring honey into Steve's throat, telling Steve more than he needs to know. He's here with his parents for the summer, he just finished his first year at college, he doesn't believe in God but his parents make him come to church.

"They said you can help me find faith," Tony says, as mischievous as he is innocent, and Steve is as good as gone.

Two Out of Three (Ain't Bad) by plingo_kat

It blindsides him one morning in the middle of his customary third cup of coffee; Steve walks through the door in loose cotton pants, shirt pulled up to wipe the sweat off his face from his usual morning workout, and Tony thinks: adorable.

catch me at the edge by Padraigen

Written for the sentence prompt: "Shh, you're safe. I won't let you go."

—

“Tony?” he tried, his voice not much more than a croak. He cleared his throat. “Tony, what—?”

“Shh,” Tony breathed, shifting again, his grip on Steve’s middle becoming more secure as he buried his head against the nape of Steve’s neck. “‘M sleeping.”

Read All About It by KandiSheek

Tony has never met Steve Rogers in person, but he's well-aware of the guy that everyone calls "The future of Hollywood". He thinks the whole goody-two-shoes persona he puts on is a load of crap, so he's not surprised that Rogers seems to hate him on sight.

Their press tour together is going to be a shit show, he just knows it.

***Patriarch by spqr

Steve ducks into the hall and comes back with a warm, freshly-laundered towel, which feels so good when he wraps it around Tony’s shoulders that he almost lets out a moan. “There we go,” Steve says. “Don’t want you to catch cold.”

“Thanks, daddy,” Tony quips, because he’s an idiot.

Except Steve’s close enough, his hands wrapped around Tony’s biceps through the towel, that Tony can feel his full-body shudder.

For You by viklikesfic (v_angelique)

Tony Stark is one of the earlier adopters of KinkTok, just as he was for Kinstagram, Fetlife, Grindr, and Kinkspace back in the day. It’s practically part of his job, as one of the most high-profile submissives in the country.

Steve pauses as he watches several loops through the same brief clip of Tony just slowly licking his lips and then letting his mouth fall open as he head tips back ever so slightly. #heydaddy #herewaiting the captions read, with a devil emoji.

Every Damn Day by MusicalLuna

The longer his relationship with Tony has gone on, the more Steve wishes he'd gotten the chance to sock Howard Stark in the nose.

He finally gets his chance.

When Love Comes Knocking (You Out) by itsallAvengers

Steve really just wanted to buy some goddamn groceries.

Instead, he tries to help a kid who's managed to get lost in a Walmart parking lot and ends up being punched in the face by his irate and panicked father.

Surprisingly, this doesn't turn out as badly as it sounds.

Anything for you by gottalovev

Steve has one certainty: he has a crush of epic proportion on Natasha Stark, and it's becoming quite a problem.

Think Before You Speak by itsallAvengers

Tony talks to himself. Regularly. When you grow up alone for pretty much your whole life, live in a huge tower with no one but yourself and a disembodied voice for company and lock yourself up in your workshop for weeks on end, who else is there to talk to but yourself? What he thinks, he'll say. It helps him keep track of all the shit going on in his ever-moving train of thought.

It doesn't help, however, when five other superheroes make themselves welcome in your home- then it just becomes a big fucking problem.

Brave new world by itsallAvengers

When Steve is defrosted early by Howard Stark, who dedicated his retirement to searching for Captain America, he's feeling rather lost in the world that has moved on without him. But Howard is happy to help, he gives him a place to stay and a friendly face, and for that Steve is grateful.

He also tells Steve that under no circumstances must he go near his son, Tony Stark. According to Howard, the man is a nasty piece of work. And really, it's not like Howard would lie to him, right?

Wrong.

The Best of Life and Asgard by scifigrl47

Tony Stark has been drunk at a few parties in his life. A quick browse of YouTube makes that impossible to deny, so he doesn't bother. But he can control himself, he doesn't have to drink. He can stay perfectly sober for just one night. He promised, he could go one night without drinking.

The problem is, he was the only one who made that promise.

Held Series by romanoff

It's not the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to Tony, but it's up there.

Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful Boy by mybrotherharry

The first time Jarvis holds little Anthony in his arms, he is overwhelmed by emotion that is surprising in its intensity. When little Anthony's palm curves around his finger, Jarvis ducks his head to keep the others from seeing the wetness in his eyes.

"Hello Master Anthony," he whispers into the little ear, tugging the bundle of blankets closer to his heart.

second chances by meidui

When Doctor Strange casts his spell and mends the breaks in the multiverse, he makes the mistake of looking at Peter for a few moments too long.

That look, rife with love and pain and I’m sorry Tony I couldn’t take better care of him, is so powerful it changes the spell. It draws in Steve and Tony from an adjacent universe, right as they’re bleeding out together on a battleground.

to keep you like an oath by meidui

After the events of Avengers: Endgame, Steve travels back to 2008, swearing to protect Tony and beat the shit out of Obadiah Stane.

for the love of renegades by meidui

Tony is a lonely millionaire with a drinking problem. Steve is a lonely personal trainer with anger issues. They sneak back and forth from LA to New York and somehow make it work.

***seven years in heaven by meidui

Tony gave Steve everything in the divorce. Their beautiful Brooklyn brownstone and everything in it, Tony's beloved Audi, their private garden upstate. Tony even offered him the lakehouse, but Steve had looked up at him with red eyes and begged softly for him to stop.

Tony gave Steve everything, every last piece of himself. He didn't take much with him when he flew out to his mansion in Malibu, but he took every last piece of Steve, too.

#stevetony weekly #stevetony fic #stevetony fic rec #fic rec #steve rogers #tony stark #captain america #iron man

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ohmycenchaheart · 3 years

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What started out as a headcanon, ended up becoming, well, this.. Cha Young is overcome with a strong sense of déjà vu as she strolls around the upscale men’s clothing store, waiting as her boyfriend gets fitted for his new Booralro suit.

Honestly now, the man is quite rich, not to mention has a good number of gold bars to his name, and yet he wants her to buy him his new suit. All because of a stupid bet they made during one of their makgeolli nights. Okay, so she may have somewhat grudgingly admitted that even the simplest, most basic pasta made by him, Spaghetti Aglio e Olio in this case, tasted better than the one Chef Toto served at Arno. She had tried to reason her way out — it was probably the wine he paired the pasta with that enhanced the taste. Alas, the soft moan that escaped her, as flavours of garlic, parsley and olive oil exploded in her mouth in the first bite itself, was enough to have Vincenzo smirk in victory like the insufferable git he can be when he wins. And that had been that.

They should have stuck to their old finger flick bets, she muses as she walks past a glass display of cuff links and tie pins. Except finger flicks weren’t just finger flicks anymore. Sometimes, they were soft kisses on the forehead, and sometimes, a little something more. It wasn’t something either of them minded; in fact, these bets often became playful excuses. But one day, in a silly fit of competitiveness, Cha Young had declared they up the stakes. And that’s how she finds herself in this fancy store once again, the same one where she’d bought him his suit and pen after their first court victory together, waiting as Vincenzo tries on yet another suit. In hindsight, she should’ve suggested the loser buy bungeoppang instead. Oh well..

“It’s for the party next week,” he’d insisted, at which Cha Young had merely scoffed. The man would do anything for a new Booralro suit. But it was a party she was looking forward to, a fancy one at the Italian Embassy to which her partner had snagged invites. And she had treated herself to a new dress using the same excuse, so it was a bit hypocritical of her, wasn’t it?

She walks over to the corner that houses a display of silk ties, all meticulously organised by colour, prints and size, where a light blue paisley tie catches her eye, and she asks one of the store attendants to take it out of the display for her. She can't remember if she’s ever seen him wear a paisley tie before, but the tie is beautiful. It’s soft and the print delicate, but it’s the colour that catches her fancy. It’s a light greyish blue, a colour she knows would go well with either of the three suits he’s shortlisted. But more importantly, and she won’t admit this to him, well not yet at least, the colour is almost the same shade of the dress she bought. She’d always found the idea of couples matching their outfits amusing, however, in that moment she’s willing to concede that there’s something sweet about it after all.

“Byeonhosa-nim, ” Vincenzo calls out to her as he steps out of the fitting room, closely followed by the store attendant who had been assisting him with the fitting. Cha Young tries not to roll her eyes at the employee who trails after her boyfriend with a starstruck look akin to the one adoring fans have upon meeting their favourite idol. “How’s this one,” he asks as he adjusts the cuffs of his suit.

She walks over to him, first running her hands over his shoulders and then smoothing the lapels of his jacket. Stepping back, she gives him a once over, and ignoring the fluttering in her heart, replies as nonchalantly as she can, “I think it should do the trick.” When the store attendant enthusiastically gushes about how good the suit looks on Vincenzo, Cha Young graces him with a glare that is enough to remind him that he needs to go and look after the other non-existent visitors in the store.

Finally without an audience, she holds up the tie with a slight flourish and asks, “what do you think?”

For a moment, she’s worried that perhaps the tie doesn’t match up to his high standards. The man does have impeccable taste, and is quite fussy about his clothing. Her little moment of doubt vanishes when Vincenzo smiles. “Yeppeuda.” It’s pretty.

“Here, let me,” she says as she closes the gap between them and reaches out to do up the top buttons of his shirt (a pity, really, because she loves it when he leaves his collar unbuttoned), smirking at the way Vincenzo gulps when her fingers are at the collar of his shirt. Besotted man that he is, he lowers his head in submission so that she can place the tie around his neck.

“Have you ever done this before?”

“A couple of times..”

When he raises his eyebrows, Cha Young realises what he might have misunderstood it as.

“For Abeoji,” she sheepishly clarifies. What she doesn’t tell him is that she would always loop the tie around her neck first, tie it, loosen it and then hand it over to her father. She had never tied a tie for someone on their person this way.

She adjusts the length of the tie (she thinks she’s got the length right), crosses the wider end over the thinner one, then passes it from the back the other side and then.. Damn it, what do you do next? Cross it over from the other side? Loop it all over again? She tries to remember the next step, forehead scrunched up in concentration, trying to jog her memory. It doesn’t help that Vincenzo’s cologne serves as a distraction. Feeling his gaze on her, she looks up.

“What are you looking at?”

You. “Your tie tying. I’m trying to figure out what knot you’re going to go for. Say, Byeonhosa-nim, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Yah! I’m just.. trying to recollect. It’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

“Ahh.”

“…”

“Pass the wide end through the gap between the tie and the collar, and take it to the right side. That’ll be your left.”

“Mhmm. Like this?” “Yes. Now wrap the wide end across the thinner end, and then pull the wide end through the gap between the tie and collar like before. But don’t pull it too tightly. See that loop on top of the knot? You’ll need to—“

Before he can finish, she’s already sliding the wide end of the tie through the said loop, and pulling it tight.

“Yes, yes, I know. Now hold still, let me just adjust this.”

As she goes about making the final adjustments to the tie, pulling it tighter and fixing it into place, an old memory flashes in Cha Young’s mind — one of her mother tying a tie for her father in a similar manner, and Hong Yu Chan looking down at his wife with an adoring smile, very much like how Vincenzo is looking at her in this moment. She never understood why her mother did that, or why her father let her when he was perfectly capable of doing it himself, or why the late lawyer pretty much gave up wearing a tie (unless it was absolutely necessary) after the death of his wife.. but now she gets it.

“There, all done.”

She turns around, so that both her and Vincenzo are facing a full-length gilded mirror, and he can review her handiwork.

“That’s not a bad Half-Windsor, you know.. especially for your first try”

“A what now?”

“The knot. It’s called a Half-Windsor. It’s the one I usually go for. Either that, or a Four-in-hand..”

“Ooh. Are you giving me a crash course in tie knots now?”

“Well, it never hurts to know about different knots, you know. They can come very handy,” he adds suggestively, to which he promptly gets smacked in the shoulder with a “Yah!”

“I do think the length’s a bit off though. It needs to be longer. You’re going to need some practice, Byeonhosa-nim. I guess you’ll just have to do this for me a few more times again,” he tells her, smiling at her reflection in the mirror.

As they stand there in front of the mirror, their reflected gazes locked on each other, both of them all smiles, Cha Young thinks there’s something so intimate about moments like these, and it leaves her feeling warm.

Still looking at her in the mirror, Vincenzo leans down a little, an arm going around her waist, and whispers in her ear, “Interesting choice of colour, by the way,” and ohhh he knows. He knows why she picked this particular tie. Their reflections show his smile getting wider as her eyes widen in surprise.

A second later, Cha Young turns in her place, and gently tugging on his tie, pulls Vincenzo down to her and places a soft kiss where his neck meets his jaw. Satisfied with his flustered expression, she innocently smiles at him.

“I think you look very handsome, Jagiya. Now, I’m going to go pay for this. But you’re buying me lunch, so hurry..” And as she skips towards the billing counter, she leaves a besotted fool in her wake, who stares at her in a manner that can only be described as the human equivalent of the heart eyes emoji. What a pair of lovestruck idiots these two make..

#vincenzo #vincenzo cassano #hong cha young #vincenzo x cha young #chayenzo #chacenzo #cencha #vincenzo x hong cha young #headcanon #fanfiction #vincenzo headcanons #vincenzo fanfic #tvn vincenzo #kdrama fanfic

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spiltscribbles · 3 years

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How would you do a wolfstar fic based on the way I loved you by taylor swift? from remus' pov :)

~Notes: OMFG Nonny! I need you to understand that this ask threw me back to my Twilight days when I’d watch endless edits of Bella/Edward and this particular one with this song where for some reason Edward was both guys lksajghdsfjoieagh God what a time😂 So thank you and here’s a HC of how’d I write it becs I sorta hate all my writing rn rip fklsdghasdgh But JFC it got so fucking long!!! I’M SO SORRY!

So It would be a muggle AU, non linear sort of thing where you’d see Lily and Remus just hanging out in his house on boxing day of their sixth year. And they’re shuffling through photos of themselves and friends at Hogwarts. And Remus kind of just stops at this one, particular photo from second semester of last year, when he and Sirius were still going out.

James and Lily are in the background smiling straight on the camera, but the focus is mostly where Remus and Sirius are completely oblivious to the photo, and it’s obvious that Sirius is trying to drag him onto his lap, and Remus’s head is thrown back in laughter, and Sirius is looking at him in that grossly besotted way that softens his gorgeously angular features, and it’s just an absolute deluge of emotions for Remus.

So flashback

They first met when the marauders were auspiciously roomed together as young lads in Hogwarts, and Remus grew up in a quiet coastal town in the north of Wales where everyone knew everyone, and English was actually the second language, and to put it simply, being thrown into that space with the chaotic duo that are James and Sirius was a culture shock. Even Peter— who’s plummy and who comes from a fine, upper middle class family and is at least familiar with them in the way that the patrician always are aware of one another. So Remus automatically felt like the odd boy out.

But that night, when he wakes up because he misses his Mam and Da, he finds the tallest boy— the one with striking pale eyes and an air of superiority that kind of got on Remus’s nerves, sitting on the windowsill and up at the stars— his namesake in particular. And so Remus joins him and tells him the love story of the moon and the sun that was his Mam’s favorite and it’s the first time they feel something neither of them know the name for quite yet.

Throughout the subsequent years the marauders grow as close as family, a brotherhood of sorts. But they all know there are different manifestations of friendships within them. There’s Sirius and James who are the boisterous, bombastic ones that always seek the spotlight, and who can finish each others sentences and who cheer one each other along when it comes to their rowdiest of pranks. There’s Peter who’s always been intimidated by Sirius, and thankful for James’s friendship and comfortable with Remus because he’s the only one who never teased him. Then there’s James and Remus where they’ve always been impressed by one another, James because he knows Remus comes from humble beginnings and is bright in the way he works for everything he has and it’s never doubted he deserves it. And Remus is impressed over how much and how deeply James loves and cares about his chosen people, how he can inspire a crowd so effortlessly. But then, probably most peculiarly to Remus is his relationship with Sirius.

He doesn’t mean to sound rude or ungrateful, but his string to Sirius is a relationship that absolutely eclipses all the others. It’s quiet in it’s intensity, but persistent like a heartbeat. It’s nights they spend trading stories by moonlight, and afternoons quizzing each other by the fire even though Sirius has always been naturally brilliant and Remus knows he’s just humoring him, but doesn’t call him on it because he hates the thought of it ending. It’s also evenings when James is at extra footie practice that Sirius teases him for, and Peter’s at chess club, and it’s just the pair of them, existing in each others space, doing whatever they want because it’s enough just to have the other there.

Remus is confused in third year when Sirius got especially pissy because Remus began hanging out more and more with the girl James has always targeted to being a know-it-all. And Remus was cross right back because they don’t even know Lily, and she’s a nice girl, and the only other Northerner like him in their entire year, and Sirius has no reason to be cross at him making a friend outside the marauders.

But then he got even MORE confused when Sirius asked him if he liked her. And Remus literally laughed out loud, which made Sirius scrunch his face sourly which just looked funny because his features are far too gorgeous to be put in such a nasty expression. And it’s nearly five minutes later when he catches his breath and tells Sirius that he and Lily are just friends and only friends. Comparing her to a sister, which became truth in the following years.

And it’s like a snap of the fingers when Sirius immediately smoothes out his face and grins cockily once more, and makes Remus promise that they don’t date any girls unless the others all approve. And Remus isn’t sure why Sirius’s intense focus on his love life makes something peculiar unfurl in his gut but he ignores it and shakes Sirius’s still too large hand— like a puppy needing to grow into his palms. And then they write up a contract and make James and Peter sign along with them in the codenames they came up with last year. Prongs for James because his hair is something gravity defying, Wormtail for Peter because of his pet rat, Padfoot for Sirius because of him asking sodding Minerva McGonagall— their head of house— if she was on her time of the month— as a first year when she gave him and James three weeks detention for a crude prank. And Moony for Remus who constantly got lost in his books and in his daydreams that it takes the others multiple times calling his name for him to be brought back to earth.

Remus kept the contract in his lovage, but never bothered to pull it out fourth year when Sirius suddenly became very, very aware of his good looks, and high social standing, and how any girl attracted to men would chew off her own leg to get a date with him— well save for the possibly only exception that is Lily Evans. And Remus had to just deal with it, and he did. He didn’t know why Sirius and his frequent, but short lasting flings got under his skin so thoroughly. It’s not like he’s annoyed over Peter and his girlfriend Eloise or how James is still going out with a couple different girls even though he’s near constantly flirting with Lily. And it’s not like the ones Sirius decides to go out with are annoying or anything. He really likes most of them. Like Marlene is absolutely hilarious, and Maci has the same world history class with Remus so they studied together a lot. And the rest have perfectly fine attitudes. It’s just— It’s just Sirius begins sleeping more often through the night instead of swapping stories with Remus, and isn’t readily available for whenever Remus needs to take a walk in the woods because he’s becoming full of anxiety over just about everything, and it’s just— He just misses Sirius a lot.

And Remus thinks he’s an idiot because why the fuck does he feel so territorial towards one of his best friends? Why doesn’t he act this way towards James or Peter or even Lily. He doesn’t ever feel this ridiculous, clawing emotion. Something he only calls by name, jealousy, when it’s late and quiet and he’s all alone. And Remus panics because he has no idea what this means, what or why he feels this way. Because he’s not a poof?? Is he? It’s not like he’s ever been especially interested in girls or their knickers, and if the other fifteen year old boys around him is anything to go by, that’s odd. But it’s not as if he’s especially interested in any other blokes either— anyone besides Sirius. Sirius and his artfully tousled black hair that tumbles down the nape of his neck and just a couple inches above his shoulders. and his piercing eyes that always seem as if they can look right into Remus’s soul and sift through all his points of diffidence. Sirius who’s always been there for Remus in ways Remus never even expected, even knew how to ask for. The boy who brings him hot chocolate on days his migraines are especially awful, and who always begs the Matron to stay over on the nights Remus is just forced to stay in the hospital wing when he has a flare up, and who always knows to ask the caretaker for a spare blanket at the start of every term because he knows Remus is always cold but would never dare ask himself. And God, just why does it have to be Sirius!

Strangely enough, it’s Sirius who answers the question in a non direct sort of way at the end of their fourth year when Remus asks him why he broke up with Isidora so publicly and a bit callously while they’re sitting on the balcony of the astronomy tower, trading their flask of gin that Sirius snuck away from his parent’s house over easter, staring down at the grounds and the lake and it’s a beautiful night, and Remus only sorta feels it how his heart twists while Sirius sits so close. And once the question spills out his lips, Sirius peers down at him in a very subdued, very weighty sort of way and he simply says, “she’s not you Moons.”

And it’s like Remus’s heart just freezes, refuses to continue beating with the shock, with the somber words spoken without an ounce of humor. And part of him is just waiting for the joke, for the other shoe to drop. He’s just waiting for the overdone hand to his chest, and lips pretending to pucker for a smooch. He’s waiting for the ground to return but Sirius doesn’t move, and maybe this means that this is real, that it isn’t just in Remus’s head. so all he says is a simple, “oh” and the next thing he knows is that Sirius kisses him right then and there, and it’s beginning to shower from above, and the kiss is a bit hard for his liking— more teeth than lips and a tongue that slips in with fervor— but Remus wouldn’t stop it for all the money in the world. Wouldn’t ever let go of his grip on Sirius’s broad shoulders, or move away from where Sirius’s arms are snaking around his narrow waste. Would pay anything just to constantly feel the weight of Sirius over him like this for forever.

He doesn’t know for how long they lied their in the pouring rain, just exchanging slow, lingering snogs, and tender touches that feel like a thousand flames. But Remus probably should’ve expected that the next morning, while they’re all preparing to board the train, Sirius doesn’t catch his eye or ever really speak to him. And that’s fine. Remus has been questioning his sexuality for a while now. Maybe Sirius is just confused or just nervous because they’ve been friends for so long. So he doesn’t mind. Ends up splitting his time on the train with the boys and with Lily and it’s all alright. When he gets home, he types Sirius a letter explaining to him that it’s fine, that they can take things slow, that they don’t have to call it anything yet, and he toys with that patch on his neck that’s still purple from Sirius’s mouth and he’s actually elated with the idea of it.

Sirius doesn’t answer the email

And he doesn’t answer the one after that either, or the ones that follow. And Remus eventually takes the hint when he gets a email from Peter who’s holidaying in France and asks Remus how hard he laughed from Sirius’s story about how he nearly pulled the mum of the latest London bird he’s shagging that he wrote them about. And Remus is equal parts embarrassed and self rebuking. Because he’s such an idiot, Sirius was probably annoyed from his constant emails like he’s some jilted ex lover, like the girls he pulls along. And Remus is really a fucking idiot. So he rings Lily and they meet at a pub that’s equidistant from both of them, and he didn’t have to tell her what happened because she’s really just a genius, so they drink the night away and he swears off love and she swears to kick James in the Bollocks at least once this year, and it’s the first time all summer Remus laughed.

By the time they got to fifth year, Remus had ranted enough to Lily that he was over it— well erm, mostly at least. It still hurt like nothing else when he first spotted Sirius on the train, looking taller and leaner and tanner and just sexier as all get out. ANd it makes something ugly twist in his gut, laughing at himself over thinking that a practical demigod would be interested in someone who prefers books to most people and who has to wear charity shop clothes when he’s not in his school uniform and just— He’s an idiot. So when Sirius steps into the cart with Remus, James and Peter, and his look of contrition tosses to Remus a beat passes. And it’s quickly willed away when Remus just smiles warmly, tries to silently tell him not to worry about it, and asks out loud if he’d like a chocolate frog.

And it’s normal, it’s fine, the first weeks of term are typical as ever for the boys. They commit pranks on the creepy wankers like Snape and Avery. And they laugh at James’s latest failed attempt to woo Lily. And they spend all nighters in the library and celebrate with pickup games of footie. And it’s pretty bloody brilliant, but then Sirius’s birthday hits, and they plan a surprise for him on the astronomy tower in the middle of the night, filled with food and drinks and friends. ANd Remus gets the key as prefect, and Peter sneaks in the booze with his free afternoon off and James make sure that everyone they like is there to celebrate the greatest git they all know. And Sirius is so, so happy when he sees it. Wich of course he is, Remus knows how difficult his parents are, how lonely he can get over the breaks without the lads. So he’s so, so happy to see that look of mirth twinkling in Sirius’s pale eyes, and he does everything he can to make it so Sirius is laughing all night long.

But towards the end, no matter how much he wants to make it the best night for Sirius, he just has to get away from the sight of Sirius dancing obscenely with Florence Whittemore. Because he doesn’t have to be a damn martyr.

He goes to a private nook on the rooftop, and pulls out the pre-rolled spliff to light up, only sorta surprised when Sirius makes his way to him— far away from the crowd and away from the music. And he plops down on the step right under his, obviously loaded and smiling like the sun, crooning “Moony,” over and over again and Remus can only dimple down indulgently at him, carding his hand through Sirius’s hair gently, spurred on by the drinks and the weed and just by that quiet, unassuming love he has held for him like a torch all these years.

“Did you wear my favorite sweater on purpose?” Sirius asks, a bit slurred, tilting his head so it rests on Remus’s shoulder and he can feel the tendrils of his warm breath brushing against his neck, and Remus suddenly feels like he’s on fire again.

And he looks down at the green sweater he’s got on, a gift from his Mam for his fifteenth last year and the one that he was wearing the first night Sirius kissed him. So, yeah maybe Remus wore it subconsciously precisely because of that. But he’d never tell him.

And neither of them could say who leaned forward first, but they were kissing again and it still feels like everything splendid and like Remus’s mind is melting right out of his head and it’s so fucking miraculous.

But then they hear a coughing and they spring apart in panic, only to meet Lily’s shrewd, green eyes and she’s glaring at Sirius like she could scorch a whole right through him. And she tells them that there’s a Filch sighting and they need to get to the dorms pronto.

Sirius scrambles up, looking at them panicky like he doesn’t know what to say, but then Remus tells him to hurry along because he and Lily—as Prefects— are the only ones who won’t get in trouble for being out. And Sirius looks at Remus like there’s a thousand things he’d like to say, but nods soberly and sprints away, and Remus is objected to Lily’s silent, judgmental worrying for their entire track back downstairs.

Remus isn’t surprised when Sirius tells them all that he’s dating Florence now over breakfast, and Peter gazes at him in aw at pulling the fittest girl in their year, and James claps his back hardily and talks about the double dates they can go on now since he’s still dating Jeanette. As if James isn’t glancing back at Lily even as he’s speaking it, and as if Sirius isn’t peering over apologetically to Remus as if there was ever anything between them.

However, what does surprise Remus is when late that night, Sirius pads over to his bed in the middle of the night like they haven’t done since they were both 14, and they’re lying down, not looking at each other before Sirius kisses him again and Remus lets himself enjoy it, let himself melt into him. But then he remembers the pretty blonde girl who he’s actually dating and it hurts like nothing else when he tells him the next night when Sirius makes the same track to his bed that they can’t do anything because they’re going to ruin their friendship and he has a girlfriend and Remus just can’t. So Sirius nods, tells him he’s always been the best of them, and kisses his forehead before returning to his own bed. And Remus silently refutes the comment because he hates not letting himself even get the scraps.

So Sirius dates Florence for the next month or so, and Remus puts up with it because of course he does. Because if it’s Sirius’s friendship or nothing at all, he’d always pick the former. Would always want Sirius to be with him in anyway possible. But then over winter break he officially runaways from his barmy ancestral home and goes off to James’s house in the countryside. And he texts Remus, begging him to come visit for New Year’s Eve. So Remus does, even gets Lily to tag along.

And once they get there, Sirius just smacks a big one on him in front of literally a whole house of people— including James and James’s Parents and all the Potters’ friends— and he tells him that he loves him and that he doesn’t want to pretend they’re only friends anymore, and Remus is blushing and grinning, and he thinks that Sirius is the maddest bloke he knows and he loves him to.

And it’s good between them, it’s remarkable. Sirius is passionate about every aspect in his life so it’s no surprise how remarkable of a boyfriend he is, how his every splendid gesture is large and vivacious and vibrant in ways Remus can’t even describe.

But the thing is that Remus is just simply not like that, has never been loud or commanding a presence. When he’s the leader of something like a prank execution or a school project, he prefers to get input from the others, make them think they did an equal amount of work even if Remus was the one behind it all. He’s always been reserved, quiet. And it’s not that he’s shy, it’s just he doesn’t ever see a reason to make a big show out of everything. And Sirius has known him for over half a decade now, so Remus assumes that he gets it.

But then it’s apparent that sometimes he doesn’t think that Remus loves him as much— which is so bloody bonkers Remus can’t even fathom it. or he thinks that Remus is just going with the motions, dating Sirius just because Sirius asked him too. And that gets Remus mad, absolutely fucking furious. The idea that Sirius can doubt his emotions like that.

“Get your cocky head out your arse and think about how not everyone has to be as ruddy loud as you are.” Remus had yelled one night in the common room in early February when Sirius tried giving him a ridiculous teddy bear holding a heart as if he’s an actual sodding bird and he refused it and Sirius got tetchy. But then Sirius had laughed like the mad man he is and then snogged him within an inch of his life and Remus thinks he got his point across.

Their one, really huge blow out, is on Remus’s birthday when he gets to his birthday dinner with his parents who came up to celebrate. And Sirius was visibly, painfully drunk and he spluttered the whole three hours and Remus was secretly thankful that his parents only thought he was a friend and not his sodding boyfriend and by the time they got to the dorm Remus had shouted, really fucking shouted at him. Had screamed things that he would regret just as soon as they came out. But it was ridiculous and Sirius could be such an arse sometimes. And Sirius had yelled back about how fucking stuffy Remus is about everything and claiming that they didn’t even notice and who the fuck cares. And Remus was shaking so hard, grabbed his pillow and blankets to sleep in the common room instead.

But of course, he knew that Sirius would follow him, that Sirius always prodded whenever Remus wanted to just runaway, that he could never leave well enough alone. And they argue again but it quickly became them rutting up against each other in the middle of the night, atop the sofa where anyone could walk down an catch them an Remus didn’t care, just needed to feel Sirius, feel him all over.

Remus only found out the next day by a red faced and quiet Sirius that he was nervous, that he didn’t mean to get so sloshed but he’s already failed with his parents and he didn’t want Remus’s to know how much of a fucking screw up he is and Remus just kissed him gently and called him an idiot and they never spoke about it again.

A few weeks later, Sirius goes off to holiday with the Potters on the Moroccan coast and Remus was only sorta jealous, but he understood that Sirius has always starved for a family, a real family, and that this is good for him. And the Potters are lovely people, and nearly as wealthy as the Blacks— well erm, as close as can be possible for ordinary folks. And James is Sirius’s brother in all but blood. Of course Sirius wouldn’t want to spend the week in Remus’s sleepy hometown with his bookish father and somewhat smothering Mam. But then he gets a call at two in the morning— so three in the morning by them— and It’s a pissed Sirius screaming into the phone over the music of some club and Remus hears a girl’s voice crowing his name and he hangs up in the middle fo Sirius trying to tell him some story about a boat or llama or what the fuck ever. And then Sirius storms to their shared dormitory when they all got back, yelling at Remus for not answering his calls for the rest of the week, and then Remus screamed back that he didn’t want to keep him from his haram of girls. And Sirius snarled out that he didn’t kiss or even bloody flirt with any of them and that Remus needs to start trusting him or pull that stick out his ass. And Remus was just so taken aback he had no idea what to say, so he just shook his head, discarded words and pounced on him for them to snog instead— James and Peter rolling their eyes as they slowly exited the room.

And there entire relationship is a bit like that, firecrackers that simmer to something tender because their foundation has always been the purest, most important friendship and even though the sex is fucking miraculous and mind-blowing and maddeningly delicious, they’ll always be friends.

So that’s why Remus gets so angry that Sirius is acting so blasé when Snape finds out about them and threatens to tell the whole school. “It’s not a big deal Moons, practically everyone who isn’t an idiot already knows.”

And Remus swears he saw red, felt his blood pressure pulse. “Well my parents don’t know, and I’d rather be the one to tell them instead of them hearing it from the gossip mill from one of the other students parents!”

And Sirius’s expression got very stoney right then, his shoulders drawn back and brows furrowed. “So what? You’re ashamed that you’re dating a bloke? Or a bloke who’s own parents didn’t want him?”

And Remus is so fucking gobsmacked, so disbelieving that this is still such a point of sensitivity for him. That he still isn’t quite comprehensive just how much and how thoroughly and how desperately Remus loves him, and all that comes out is “You’re a bloody pillock.” And Sirius doesn’t give him enough time to explain himself and before he knows it they’re on the train home and Sirius isn’t even talking to him and he’s home in Wales once more.

He tries messaging Sirius all summer long, tries explaining himself. He even tells his parents that he’s as gay as the day is long, and they were so supportive that it gave him hope. But then Remus goes to Lily’s house one night for a movie, and her phone pins with a snap notification from James, and she tells him to open it for her while she tries pulling out the biscuits from the oven, and Remus Sees a dorky looking James, a London night club’s logo on the bottom of the filter and it’s all innocent until he really looks and he sees Sirius— clear as day, and he’s kissing another bloke. A blonde, good looking bloke that Remus could never be and one that Sirius deserves. And he feels so empty, so exhausted, so tired of it all as he numbly hands it over to a anxious looking Lily.

And Remus decides right then that he and Sirius really need to end this.

They need to cut all the strings of this ill-fated romance, because they’re both too volatile and too sporadic. They can’t risk their friendship over this. Remus can’t lose Sirius just because Remus never deserved him as a boyfriend.

So when they get back to classes for their sixth year, Remus pretends nothing had ever happened between them.

He acts cordial, and companionable and like the friend he was to Sirius before he let his bloody emotions get in the way. And Sirius is suspicious but cautious and sometimes he looks like he does when he wanted to kiss him, so Remus would have to race off and he’d stay out late as possible in the library so to get back to their room after they’ve all fallen asleep. And he’s thankful he does the one time he finds that Sirius had ended up falling asleep in Remus’s bed while waiting up for him.

On one of those nights out to the library he begins speaking with Ezra.

Ezra is a prefect also, and he’s a year above them in classes so he gladly helps Remus with the questions he has for the course work. He’s extremely handsome, and Remus doesn’t feel so guilty when he recognizes the fact. He’s got brown hair numerous shades darker from Remus’s tawny color, and he’s got very lovely green eyes and he smiles at Remus shyly. So it’s not a surprise when he kisses him softly for the first time in early October, and it’s nice. It’s not fire licking up his insides like Sirius’s kisses are, but it’s sweet. And he’s sweet.

They go out on casual dates to the city on allotted weekends and they drink coco by the fire. He tells Remus about growing up right outside Edinburgh and Remus tells him about the sea glass his Mam taught him to find by the ocean, and his collection of shells and his favorite peer to watch the sunset and Ezra listens like he is so very interested. And They’re a quiet pair, even the first time he gives Remus a blow job behind the greenhouses. And it’s good, because it’s fucking sex of course its good. But he doesn’t know how to use his tongue like Sirius learned how, or how to squeeze just a bit too tightly around his shaft when he’s lapping the head. But it’s not Ezra’s fault. Sirius and Remus had plenty of practice, the one thing they did more than laugh or argue was fuck. And that’s because it was always fun, always good. They stumbled through it together and learned what they liked and what they didn’t and how amazing it felt whenever they were intwined like that— When Sirius was on top of him, underneath him, deep inside of him and all around him.

But that’s not a fair comparison. Sirius has always excelled in everything, has always been a supernova. And Remus needs to learn how to be his friend again, and stop remembering all those times between the sheets or hidden behind the greenhouses or sometimes even in closets between classes.

And they’re getting there. Sirius has stopped trying to wait up for him, and he laughs at his jokes easily again. He doesn’t touch Remus, not really, not ever. And he looks like a flicker has been blown out behind his disarmingly handsome face, but they’re getting closer.

And Ezra is great, Ezra is so amazing. He’s sweet and he texts Remus a good night and good morning message every day. He walks him to class and they kiss softly goodbye. He buys Remus cherry filled brownies even tho that’s possibly the one type of chocolate he doesn’t like. But he eats them anyways because he knows they’re expensive. And he steadfastly ignores the box of his favorite caramel ones that are left on his bed the morning after Ezra got them for him.

And when Ezra comes over their house for Christmas he’s perfect in front of his parents. He complements the dinner Lyall made and how lovely Hope’s necklace is. And he gets along seamlessly with Lily when they met up nearly every night to go out to the tree in the center of her hometown or ice skating or to take pictures by the lights.

But when he leaves, Remus just feels empty. He stays up all night thinking about it, about why he can’t love Ezra the way he loved— the way he’s always loved and continues to love Sirius. How he will forever love Sirius. And he ends up cursing Sirius’s name a thousand times over throughout the span of one night.

And it’s back to the start of the story with Remus and Lily lounging in his living room and looking at the photo and Remus feels his eyes watering and Lily kissing his cheek while silently handing him his phone.

They exchange a smile.

And Remus decides he’ll talk to Ezra in person, explain how he’s a great guy and how lucky Remus was to be with him. But now— well now he needs to slide open his phone because he can hardly breathe anymore.

And when he hears Sirius’s familiar, golden baritone answering tentatively, “Hiya Moons.”

And Remus swallows down the emotion in his throat, and he just loves him so much.

“Can you drive up here? Preferably not with the bike.”

“James’s Dad left us his car.” Sirius retorts, and Remus can hear the smile in his voice. “But, are you sure?”

And Remus wants to scream it to the clouds and the ocean and the mountain tops that of course he is, that this— the emotions he has for Sirius, the way he loves him— is the one sure thing in his life.

“I love you Pads.”

A silence beats between them before he hears Sirius answer back, buoyant and vivid and so much him that it aches.

“I love you to Moony. I love you so much.”

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #MARAUDERS #HARRY POTTER SERIES #HEADCANONS #HEADCANONS BY LEN #SPILT INK #this is so fucking long #holy shite #i'm sorry Nonny #!!!

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emospritelet · 3 years

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Twisted Fate - chapter 28/28

Last time, Belle made up with her father, and Gold and Neal had a heart to heart. After all the crap I've put these idiots through, I'm pleased to say that they get their HEA. This is it :)

[AO3]

Gold waited for Neal to call Emma, pacing nervously in the hallway as he did so. He tried not to listen to the one-sided conversation, the ‘okay’, the ‘yeah, I know’, and the ‘I guess we’ll see’. Despite their hug, and the tears that had been shed, Neal still sounded cautious. He supposed that was only to be expected; Neal had taken less than a day to consider the matter, and there were tests to be done before paternity could be confirmed, after all. Gold had been honest when he said the outcome didn’t matter to him, but after decades of thinking his father hadn’t even known of his existence, it would matter to Neal. How could it not?

He was pleased that Neal had agreed to come to brunch, and to invite Emma and Henry along with him. It was unlikely that Henry would be told at this stage, but there would be time for that. Neal was willing to talk to him, and to let him get to know his family. All things considered, it was a more positive outcome than he had anticipated. He was trying not to think about how Neal might react if the test came back negative.

The muffled sound of talking ceased in the lounge, and Neal entered the hallway, closing the lounge door behind him and shoving his phone in his pocket.

“Uh - they’re gonna meet us there,” he said, and Gold nodded.

“Right.”

“They’re not far,” added Neal. “We took Henry to the bookshop this morning, and I thought, since I was in the area - well, I thought I may as well stop by.”

“I’m glad you did,” said Gold sincerely, and Neal hesitated only briefly before nodding.

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

The walk to the diner was made in relative silence, Neal’s hands shoved in his pockets as he sauntered along with his head down, seemingly lost in thought. Gold wanted to speak to him, but held back, feeling awkward and unsure of what to say. It was a relief to get to the diner and see Belle seated at one of the tables in the window, a book held open in front of her, pressed flat by the fingers of her right hand, with her left gently rocking Gideon’s stroller as she read. She looked up as they entered the diner, and her face broke into a beautiful smile that made him want to propose there and then. He pressed his lips together and told himself to bloody well wait until he wasn’t an emotional wreck.

“Hey!” she said, reaching out to touch his arm before squeezing Neal’s hand. Neal sent her a lopsided grin.

“Hey there, Mom,” he said, and she giggled, her eyes sparkling.

“Okay, that’s a little weird, not gonna lie.”

“You’re telling me,” he muttered, but he winked at her.

“Are you joining us for brunch?” she asked.

“Yeah, I asked Emma and Henry to come too.”

“Oh, great!” Belle looked from him to Gold and back again. “Does - does that mean..?”

“It means we’re having brunch,” said Gold easily. “And that Neal and I have agreed to take a test and get some answers.”

“Oh. Well, that sounds like a good idea.”

“Yeah, it’s - well, I guess we have to start somewhere, right?” said Neal, scratching the back of his head and pulling a face. Belle closed her book.

“And what better place to start than with cinnamon pastries and good coffee?” she said, and Neal chuckled.

“Wow, you really did become a mom.”

“Loving it so far,” she said, and patted the seat next to her. “Come on, sit down. They do the best Eggs Benedict here. And the pancakes are awesome.”

“One order of pancakes here,” said Neal immediately, taking a menu from her. “Emma’ll probably have the eggs, though.”

“Why don’t I get some drinks?” asked Gold. “Belle? Tea?”

“Iced, please.”

He nodded, smiling, and raised a hand to attract the attention of the waitress. One step at a time.

Their drinks arrived shortly before the rest of the family, Henry running ahead of his mother with a wide grin on his face, interrupting the conversation just as Gold was tentatively suggesting that they might want to visit Storybrooke one day.

“Hey Mr Gold!” said Henry excitedly. “Hey, Belle! I got a new book! It’s about a princess and a dark wizard!”

He waved a hard-backed book in the air, almost knocking Belle’s iced tea over, and she put a hand over the glass as Emma rolled her eyes with a sigh.

“It sounds wonderful,” said Gold, shooting Belle an amused look. “You can read some of it to me after we’ve eaten, if you like.”

“Cool! Can I have pancakes?”

“Take a look and see what you want on ‘em,” said Neal, and Henry flopped into one of the chairs and took the menu from Belle.

“Wow, they have different kinds!”

“I’ll take that menu after you, kid,” said Emma, sliding into the seat between him and Neal. Gold noticed her give Neal’s leg a reassuring squeeze and receive a pat on her hand in return.

“Dad, did you see these waffles?” Henry held up the menu. “They have strawberries and cream!”

“Yeah, they look good, huh?” said Neal. “Did you make a choice yet?”

“Not yet.” Henry bent his head over the menu again, chewing his lip, and Neal and Emma shared a glance.

“Henry,” said Neal. “How would you feel about going up to visit Storybrooke, in Maine?”

“What’s in Storybrooke?” asked Henry curiously, looking up.

“Belle used to live there,” said Neal. “And Mr Gold has a house there. A big one. He says we could stay over for the weekend with him and Belle sometime.”

“There’s a cabin, too,” said Gold. “It’s by a lake in the woods. Plenty of space to play.”

“Ooh! Can we have a barbecue?” asked Henry excitedly, and Gold laughed.

“Yes, we could do that,” he said. “Did you decide what you want on your pancakes?”

Henry wrinkled his nose.

“Actually, the waffles look really good,” he said. “Can I get one of those?”

“You can have whatever you like,” said Gold. “That goes for everyone. This is my treat.”

“That’s really nice of you,” said Emma.

“It’s been some time since I was able to treat anyone,” said Gold, catching her eye. “Looks as though I have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

Emma held his gaze, and nodded.

“You’re here now,” she said. “That counts for something.”

“Yeah,” said Neal quietly. “It counts for a lot.”

He too held Gold’s eye for a moment before turning to help Henry with his brunch choices, and Gold felt something loosen inside his chest, a sense of something that was almost relief beginning to spread through him. He glanced at Belle, and she was smiling at him, a soft look in her eyes that made him want to crawl across the table and kiss her. It was going to be alright. Everything was going to be alright.

Two years later

It was a bright and pleasant day in early May when Gold’s Cadillac pulled up outside the pink Victorian on the outskirts of Storybrooke. A U-Haul van was already there, Neal in dark jeans and a blue cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up, opening the back to reveal stacked cardboard boxes. Belle got out of the car, turning her face up to the sun with a sigh of pleasure as she stretched. It felt good to be back in Storybrooke at last, although she had loved the Boston apartment that had been their home for the past couple of years. Her studies were done, Gideon had just turned two, and they had decided to move back to Storybrooke permanently.

“God, someone open the damn door, I gotta go!”

Emma had climbed out of the U-Haul, almost waddling to the path, her hand on her swollen belly. She and Neal were due to have their second child in three weeks, and she had been grumbling about her discomfort for the past two. Gold followed her with his swift, limping stride, reaching the porch before her and fishing out his keys to unlock the door. She headed for the stairs immediately, not looking back, and Belle grinned, remembering her own frequent bathroom trips at that late stage of pregnancy.

“Here, you want a hand with the kids?”

Neal appeared at her side, grinning widely, and Belle smiled back.

“Could you get the stroller out?” she asked. “I can get Gideon.”

“I’ll get him.”

Gold had reappeared, pocketing the front door keys, and leaned in to kiss her with a smile before heading around to the other side to un-clip Gideon from his car seat.

“Here we are, Gid,” he said easily, lifting him out. “Welcome to your new home.”

Belle smiled as Gideon looked around, supremely unconcerned at the news. They had visited Storybrooke a number of times over the past two years, though not since before Christmas. She was looking forward to spending their next Christmas in the house with all their family, including Emma and Neal’s new little one. Though she could have done without the ‘Grandma’ title Henry had cheerfully given her.

Neal had taken out the stroller and unfolded the frame, and Gold put Gideon down, ruffling his hair absently.

“Guess I’ll start taking the boxes,” said Neal.

“I’ll help,” chirped Henry, appearing at his side.

“Don’t lift any of the heavy ones, leave those for your dad,” said Belle, as they headed for the van.

She turned back, watching as Gold reached into the rear of the car to un-clip the seat carrying their new baby daughter. Florence had been born in early April, and Gold was besotted with her. She stared up at him with wide, dark eyes, her head covered with soft brown hair.

“Here we go, my princess,” he said softly, a wide grin on his face, and Belle smiled as he clipped the seat into the stroller and closed the door.

“I’ll take her in and get her changed,” she said. “She’s probably due a feed, too. Would you warm the milk?”

“Of course.”

Gold scooped up the bag containing Florence’s baby things and hurried towards the house. Belle shook her head as he disappeared through the door, wondering where he got his energy after a restless night and a long drive with two small children. Gideon hurtled up the path after his father on sturdy legs.

“Gid, slow down!” she called.

He looked around at her, still running, and tripped, hitting the path with a thump as his arms tried to break his fall. A wail went up, and Belle sighed.

“I’ll get him,” said Neal.

He shifted the box he was carrying into one arm and went to scoop up his little brother. Gideon wrapped his arms around Neal’s neck, still crying, and Neal shushed him, bouncing him in the crook of his arm.

“Hey little guy,” he said soothingly. “You’ll be okay. See what happens when you don’t listen to your momma?”

Gideon calmed in his big brother’s arms, and Neal kissed his cheek.

“There, see?” he said. “All better. What do you say we go see Papa and get a nice cool drink in the kitchen?”

“Cookie?”

“If your Mom says so.” Neal glanced at Belle, who nodded, and he tickled Gideon’s ribs, making him squeal.

“Yeah, let’s get a cookie,” he said. “You’re getting bigger, huh? I bet you’ll eat as much as me at dinner.”

“Go see Ganny?” asked Gideon excitedly.

“Yeah, we’re going to Granny’s for dinner,” promised Neal. “You can show her your new book, how about that?”

“An’ cake!”

“Yeah, you can have some cake, too.”

Belle watched them head up the path, Neal balancing Gideon on his hip with the box in his other arm. She could hardly keep the smile from her face. In the past two years Neal, Emma and Henry had truly become family. At times she had caught Gold looking at his son with pride and something approaching disbelief on his face, as though he was half-expecting to wake up from a dream at any moment.

It hadn’t all been perfect, of course; there had been difficult moments as they went through therapy, and tears on all sides, but it had brought them closer together. Emma had even been talking about getting a job in Storybrooke sheriff’s office in a year or so, and Gold had offered to help Neal set up his own accountancy business. They hadn’t made a firm decision on the move yet, but Belle thought it was only a matter of time. Henry was certainly enthusiastic about the idea, and had already made friends with a couple of the local children. The thought of having her whole family in Storybrooke was wonderful.

She inhaled deeply, drawing the scent of cut grass and fresh flowers into her nose, and began pushing the stroller up the path towards their house. It was good to be home.

Belle licked her lips, fingers gripping the sturdy brass key and turning it. It moved smoothly in the lock, a satisfying click sounding, and she pushed open the door.

The library smelt of fresh paint and beeswax polish, the contractors having finished with the decorating the week before. The wooden floor and circulation desk had been polished to a high shine, empty stacks lined up, waiting to be filled with the collection of books that were stacked in cardboard boxes along the wall. Towards the back, there were folding tables and chairs, some sized for adults and some for small children. Belle intended to run some after-school and evening classes, and had already spoken to Mary Margaret about a collaboration with the school.

Stepping forward, her heels clicked on the polished wood, and she walked slowly towards the circulation desk, running a hand along the curved edge as she let her eyes roam around the space.

“Surveying your new domain?”

She smiled at the sound of Gold’s voice, and turned on her toes to face him. He was standing by the doorway, the spring sunshine silhouetting him through the glass, dust motes dancing in the air around him like fireflies.

“Where are the kids?” she asked, and he glanced over his shoulder.

“Emma and Neal are watching them,” he said. “I have you all to myself.”

He was grinning, and Belle shot him a level look.

“No hanky-panky in the library,” she said severely. “I want this place to be successful, and it won’t be if no one comes in because they’re worried about catching us in a compromising position.”

“You say that like it’s inevitable.”

“Do I need to remind you about David walking in on us in the pawn shop that time?”

Gold waved a hand.

“The sign very clearly said Closed,” he said. “It’s not my fault he can’t read.”

Belle giggled, and turned back to look over the library. He stepped forward to stand by her side, eyes flicking over the freshly-painted walls.

“It looks good,” he said. “All ready for the inimitable touch of Storybrooke’s wonderful new librarian.”

Belle slipped her arm through his, resting her head briefly on his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t have it if not for you,” she said. “I’m still amazed you got the Mayor to agree.”

“Well, exerting influence is what I do,” he said. “Besides, she’s an intelligent woman. She knew the building was only standing idle. A relatively small investment of town funds was worth it to provide a valuable public service.”

“I certainly intend to make the most of the opportunity,” said Belle, turning back to run her eyes over the empty stacks. “I thought next Saturday for the grand opening. I’ve asked Granny to prepare some party food, and I need to make some flyers, design some activities for the kids…”

“Get some books on the shelves?” he teased, and she grinned.

“I thought you, Neal and Henry could help with that tomorrow.”

“Hmm.” He looked amused. “I suppose Emma shouldn’t really be carrying books in her condition.”

“She can supervise,” said Belle. “I’ll give her a crash course in the Dewey Decimal system and she can hold a clipboard and boss us around.”

“Sounds like something she’d enjoy,” he said dryly.

“You like being teased by your daughter-in-law, admit it.”

“Certainly not.”

He was grinning, and she turned on her toes to face him, twining her arms around his neck as she leaned in to kiss him gently.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For believing in me.”

“Well, how could I not?” he said, his grin widening. “Miracles happen whenever you’re around.”

“Sweet-talker.”

“I never exaggerate,” he said gravely. “You should know that by now.”

“I know that I’m a very lucky woman,” she said, and he smiled.

“I’m the lucky one.”

The silvery chimes of the old music box played, and Gold crooned a low lullaby as he rocked his baby daughter in his arms. There was a faint sound of laughter and conversation from down in the kitchen, but Florence barely stirred as Gold kissed her forehead and laid her in the crib.

“Sleep well, my darling,” he whispered.

He took a step back, turning to the music box and winding the key to ensure the tune continued to play while she settled into sleep. The music box had sat in the nursery in Boston, playing its tinkling tune first to Gideon, and then to Florence. He was pleased to be returning it to Storybrooke, where he had first acquired it, and where he had painstakingly worked to restore it over the long months when he and Belle were trying to rebuild what was broken between them.

“Is she asleep?”

Belle was leaning in the doorway, and he looked up with a smile.

“Out like a light,” he said. “What about Gideon?”

“Fell asleep before I finished the story,” she said, and he smiled and held out a hand to her.

“Care to dance, Mrs Gold?”

She stepped forward with a smile, taking his hand as the other crept around her waist and pulled her close. He breathed in, pulling the scent of her in through his nose and sighing it out, and Belle let out a tiny noise of contentment.

“I’m so happy I met you, Alexander Gold,” she said.

“So am I,” he murmured. “I got a second chance with you, Belle. A second chance at life. I swear to you, I don’t want to miss a second of it.”

Belle raised her head, shaking her hair back off her shoulders.

“You won’t,” she said decidedly. “We’re going to have an amazing life together.”

“It’s already more than I could ever have dreamed of,” he said sincerely. “I have a beautiful wife who gave me two incredible children. I have my son back in my life, and a daughter-in-law, and soon I’ll have two grandchildren.”

“More family than you know what to do with,” she teased, and he chuckled.

“Oh, I think I could stand to have more,” he said, grinning, and Belle swatted his arm.

“Give me a year or two and we’ll see,” she said, and Gold laughed.

“Deal.”

Her smile grew, and she rested her head on his shoulder. The music tinkled on, and he held her close, feeling the warmth of her body against his as they moved in time. Life was beautiful.

#fic: twisted fate #rumbelle fic #my fic #rumbelle

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gingersnapwolves · 3 years

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Kouri (and her lovely wife Karasu) watch Word of Honor, episode 27

My wife, who just got in a fight with our neighbor: *sits down* Bring me the gay

ZCL is so happy with his two dads

YBY has just been wandering around doing whatever all this time and now he suddenly cares about annihilating ghost valley?

My wife: Couldn’t you have done that before all these other people died?

Hilarious to me how easily YBY kicked both their asses

ZZS to YBY: Okay, but consider, while WKX was off becoming evil, where the fuck were you?

These two besotted idiots

Now two different besotted idiots! CWN just staring at GX is incredibly cute

CWN is just too good for this world

WKX is so pretty in this scene

Xie Wang: But Dad, murder!!!

I’m so invested in Xie Wang, like, way more than anyone else in this show lmao

Like with WKX and ZZS, I know approximately where their storyline is going to go, but with Xie Wang I really have no idea, I just want him to murder Zhao Jing and then live happily ever after, but who knows??? Not me

Sidebar: he and JGY should have tea together, I think they’d get along great

#liveblog #word of honor #kouri watches word of honor

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missingartist · 4 years

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The Witcher’s Mate- Chapter 14

Adva liked Triss. While being a skilled mage, there was a nurturing and caring nature to her. They spent many days together, practising the craft of spells and potions. In the three weeks, she never felt so free. Magic surged through her and with every day it grew. It wasn’t just the magic it was not having to wake up at the break of dawn to prepare the morning meal for the tavern, or stay up all night brewing a speedy recovery potion for the working girls who had had one too many customers the night before. Adva and Geralt had to feel into a pattern of sorts; each morning they would meet by the tree and spend the early hour of the morning together. Often or not, Geralt would sit in silence and watch her read or explain to her the various qualities of monsters or beasts. It was comfortable it was Adva favourite part of the day, spending a few hours with the moody Witcher. With each passing day, Adva was privy to a small glimpse at the man beneath all the armour, moods and mutations. A man who was sweet and caring he brought her a small packet of candy peanuts, he would never give them to her just leave them on her desk or would carry the mass of books Triss has dumped on her even little things like holding open the door. It was nice, but it did also reveal a sad side to his nature, a touch starved and painfully lonely man. His touches would linger, burn into her. I made her wonder when the last time someone hugged him, really hugged him. Being an orphan alone in the world, she knew what it was like to have no emotional intimacy; how it hurt.

For the last week, she rubbed the balm onto his chest, and stay with him till he fell asleep, sometimes she would doze next to him watching over him. Though he was sleeping better, sometimes ten hours straight, he still looked tired, his constant temperature was worrying. Geralt simple shrugged off her concerns with the news that he and Jaskier were going on a hunt. Both had disappeared for a week to a local forest infected by Ghouls. Every day that past Adva had become more adamant that they would not return. At the end of the fifth day, upon their return from their walk, Triss and Adva fell in the door laughing at some local merchant making a pass at the two women with the temptation of free cheese, to find the two men arguing in the living room.

‘Ahhh Geralt you have returned! We have just had a walk around the town…Smiggle, the Cheesemonger tried to talk Adva into a betrothal with a lump of cheddar.’ Triss’s laugh tinkled then bells in the parlour of the large house.

‘If it had been Brie, he would have got a different answer.’ Adva laughed taken a seat next to Jaskier, who laughed heartily and poured a drink.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Adva that Geralt gave Triss an outraged look, bordering between angry and irritation. There had been many secret looks and meetings in the workshop, behind the thick door. It uneased her. The way her ears burnt when they left made her paranoid. Geralt had been indecisively hot and cold. Some moments made her think they were almost friends than in a second; he would go cold and moody.

Geralt eyes rolled over Adva form, she wore the burgundy dress, with gold embroidery. It was tight across her chest and waist, showing delicious curves and flaring out at the hips to swish as she walked gently. Her hair had grown longer, and now wavy curls danced along her neck and the start of her back, every time she turned her head a waft of her smell invaded Geralt senses. He had spent the last five nights yearning for sleep; the smell had faded to a delicate reminder of her, calling him back to her. No matter how hard he scrubbed the smell clung to him, it has soaked into his very pores. When the last Ghoul had died, he saddled up Roach and headed straight back, not even bothering to clean the Ghoul blood from his body.

‘I thought you were meant to be studying Botany not how to flirt with cheese merchants. Triss your curriculum needs reworking’ Geralt bite out in a low cold tone

Triss glared as the Witcher, with deadly eyes. Five days gone, and the first thing he says to her was that—what a prick.

‘Adva why don’t you tend to the plant in the greenhouse, I have something to discuss with Geralt.’ Triss cooed and quickly ushered the woman out the room.

‘Geralt! The past five days, you have been like a lovesick puppy and that the first thing you say to her’ Jaskier scolded hands-on-hips.

‘I am not a lovesick puppy.’ The Witcher growled.

‘You are…Adva is so nice….you…you don't deserve her.’ Jaskier gave a high-pitched squeal, and he threw down his quill and followed the curly-haired women out to the Greenhouse.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A slow sarcastic clap filled the air as Geralt stared grimily at the fire and burnt limply in the fireplace. Triss’s angry eyes were burning into the side of his face, but he refused to acknowledge her. ‘Well done, Geralt! Push her away.’

Geralt played his flagon taking deep gulps from the vessel, attempting to ignore the annoying Mage.

‘Ignoring me? Very mature, you must have been missing Adva immensely. I know she missed you, she kept pinning after you….’ Triss prodded and rolled her eyes, and he continued with the silent treatment. ‘Still nothing…. Well, I suppose you don’t want to know about the exciting discoveries I have made since you departure.’ Triss teased.

Geralt interest was ignited and his attention laid solely on the Mage, who gave him her best Cheshire smile as she waved her hand the table filled with papers and journals.

‘I sent for all of Tradi’s work; Lord Brightwater seemed to vary keen to get rid of it. Grumpy man. He also added some of Cersi notes as well. Seem your friend left in the middle of the night without saying goodbye to the sour Lord. He wasn’t best pleased. I sent one of the Marquis men to investigate; it appears that she left in the night in a hurry; the portal she used is nothing like I have seen before. No sign of the language in Adva book, I did, however, find an old journal.’ Triss pulled a journal onto her workbench, and pulled several pieces of paper from the book and scattered them in front of the two.

‘Geralt, Adva has been hidden her whole life…very carefully I might add. Cersi, in her journal, details the girl's growth and powers. Cersi seems very impressed with the girl's waterpowers peaking beyond expectation. There are pages and pages detailing everything magical goal she reached as she grew, how her body is formed, whether her body would be able to transform, or if she has bled. Don’t you think it's strange that ever since she left Brightwater, she had been attracting unwanted male attention? I have had to send away the Marquis men; they kept trying salivating over her. My guess's it's in her pheromones; there is nothing magical coming off her. That smell you're so addicted too. You’re her mate, so it does something more to you on a …metaphysical level. But for the rest of us mortals it does something else entirely, have you not noticed how people are with her? They become enamoured with her, but if you place her in a Whore house, Adva’s scent would be void. Sex gives off powerful odours, enough to hide her in plain sight. Why do you think Cersi did not take her in… and teach her, she placed her where she would be the safest, away from prying eyes of Mages and the like. If we want to find out what is happening, we need to find and talk to Cersi….. Till then I would recommend we take her to Kaer Morhen. She will be away from civilisation, and you can claim her. We need to tell her today…now.’

‘No’ Geralt gripped definitely.

‘Geralt! For the love of Goddess, why are you fighting this! What more proof do you need? Do you want me to wheel her out with the words Geralt’s Mate Painted across her chest before you admit it? An idiot could tell that you are struggling. You are barely sleeping or eating, and you're burning up! My potions are not working anymore. Have you read that book of Witches? You know if you don’t bond with her, you are going to drive yourself mad.’ Triss all but spat.

‘The book said we had a year…’

‘Yes, but with a human mate. WE may not know what she is, but we know she is not human, her bloody scent is enough to send the men around here acting like besotted idiots, for her mate, it must be seven times more potent. Why are you fighting this? Geralt your skin is clammy, I can feel your temperature from across the room. Your mood swings are becoming very wild, even for you. Geralt you are killing yourself…if that happens, who knows what will happen to her.’ Triss was pleading now, not something she usually resorted to, but she was scared for them both.

‘Fuck off Triss…’

‘Goddess help me Geralt... I will tell her myself.’

‘You won't!’

‘Why shouldn’t I?’ Triss hunched over him, prodding her brazened finger into his armour.

‘Because she deserves better!’ Geralt pulled Triss back as he roared, lifting a table in the process and launching in across the room.

‘Geralt…’

‘She is so pure and untouched. So sweet and innocent. I can’t….I won’t. She doesn’t and will not want me a life partner. I won’t subject her to this sort of life. I love her too much for that’ Geralt boomed

‘Geralt it not about you anymore. What about Adva, maybe she wants to be with you. To have someone, she had been alone for a long time.’ Triss voice broke into a soft whisper as she reached out to comfort the shaking man.

‘I can’t be that someone.’ Uttered heartbrokenly before turning and rushing away.

Triss’s heart broke for a moment, for both of them. Love was a complicated thing. For Geralt he felt too much, he loved so devotedly, and fiercely it broke him every time Yennefer stomped his heart into the ground. If anyone deserved someone, it was Geralt. A plan started to form in her head. It would take some effort to push the stubborn Witcher in the direction of the lovely creature, but it would be worth it, she cared too much to let Geralt send himself to early death, and she was already too devoted to Adva to let her be cast off by the handsome Witcher. Smiling smugly she set off, Jaskier would be easy to recruit. If Geralt weren’t going to act, then she would do it for him. Despite the complete mystery that enveloped the woman, there was one thing she did know, the soul bond was strong, and if they didn’t mate soon, god knows what will happen.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Geralt couldn’t help himself. By nature, he was a very sexual being, that itself is one of the reasons there was an attraction between him and Yennefer. That spark of need that burnt between them. They satisfied each other; with a Witcher’s stamina he could go for days, and a mage could at least try to match that. Because of that Geralt could never really say he felt fulfilled with a partner, the nearest being Yennefer and whether that was because of the Jinns magic he couldn’t say. The Witcher had never cursed his sexual desire, he was never short of partners, and his energy seems to be limitless in the area, he has never failed to rise of the occasion no matter how beaten or broken his body. By now he cursed the fate for the situation he found himself in. All 6ft 5 of him stood half-collapsed against a bedroom for that was not his own.

After storming out, he forced himself to tend to Roach and after that momentary distraction found himself in Adva’s room. After five long days, he needed to calm himself with her scent. His nose had picked up the scent and dragged him like a prisoner to the room the other side of the house, where he had no reason or excuse to be in. The Witcher’s heart pumped faster, the first time in almost a century until it was the only thing he could hear. The perfume of her was suffocating, disorientating and intoxicating, he needed to get away but couldn’t tear himself to leave. Geralt could see the strands of scent in a sparkling blue that curled through the air leading to a swirling mass in the centre of the bed.

Swallowing hard he approached the unmade bed, tentatively perching on the side, giving at the rumpled bedclothes. The outline where her body had rested was clear; the scent permeated from where she had slept the past three weeks. Inhaling deeply, he drove through the scents, subtle difference depending on her moods and what she had eaten. He deciphered the scents layer by layer till he found the addictive fragrances that had driven him here, it was dark then the other, a navy blue, almost black. Apple and the sea but musky with a sweetness. Trailing his fingers over the bed, he felt it and saw it. Her want. Her desire. Her wetness.

The scent had soaked into the very fabric of the bed throughout her stay, every night, adding to the aroma. Never had he been so thankful for his Witcher abilities, he saw it. The way her hair cascaded against the pillow as she tossed and turned, clenching her thighs together as she the wetness formed and the pressure became too much to bare. A delicious bead of sweat travelled down her neck, travelling over her left breast and then missing with the other scents on the bed. Clothing would be flung off in an attempt to cool herself down with little or no difference. With reluctance, her hands would travel to her slick thighs in an attempt to rid herself of the ache, her mouth turning into the pillow to muff her sobs of pleasure and growls of frustration as she never managed to bring herself over the edge that she had teased herself along for the best part of two weeks.

Inside of him, two feelings flourished the sense of sadness that she did not know how to pleasure her own body but also pride at being her first and only, the only man that would teach and feel her. A throaty moan push passed his lips. The rough bronzed hand was slowly palming his raging cock; he didn’t know when he had unlaced his breeches, but he could bring himself to think about it. Instead, he found himself settling himself on the bed, ripping his undershirt in the process, his hand never leaving his throbbing member.

Adva could come back at any minute, or Triss discover him, but all Geralt could focus on was the heat that rushed through him with every stroke. The Witcher was accustomed to pleasure himself when a willing bedmate was not to be found but never had it felt this good. Palming his balls, they had been heavier than he could ever remember them being, tight and painful, a grunt rumbled from him as he rolled them in his hands, teasing the skin with his fingertips. His other hand worked his length, a generous amount of pre-cum was already dripping across his tip, along his hand to slide effortless up and down his throbbing cock. Rolling his wrist, he pumped up and down slowly, enjoying the sensation, his eyes fluttered close, and a thousand images passed through his mind. Her laying frustrated on the bed whimper his name softly, her looking down at him as shyly she reached out to touch him, and all he could feel was her hand, while the other stocked his hair as she kissed him softly. It was a tender, pushing him slowly along to his peak.

A hiss escaped him, pushing through his teeth and the scent overpower him, forcing his eyes open. Gold obs burnt down as he watched he hand franticly pound his hard cock. A bead of pre-cum dribbled down. Geralt hips franticly snapped against his hand to meet every thrust, grunts and growl shook against the walls paired the violent sound of rhythmic flesh slapping filled the room, boarding on animistic, with ever sound Geralt chest practically vibrated as he edged closer and closer to release. Pushing himself against the headboard as he dug his heels into the bed as he arched his body, his hand desperately gripped his reddening cock as he feverishly pumped his cock. Grasping his hand out, the Witcher gripped the ornamental bedknob tightly, series of feral roars escaped the panting man. A thick jet of cum spurted out against the chest pooling in his stomach.

All strength sapped from his body, and the Witcher collapsed against the bed, soft pants puffed out from his chest, as slowly his eyes fluttered closed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jaskier twirled to flower in his hand as he tilted from foot to foot as he observed the woman in front of him, he likes her immensely, it was half the reason he agreed with this plan. Adva was refreshing after spending what was like an eternity in the company of Yennefer. Jaskier felt an inner hatred for the violet-eyed Mage; she treated Geralt as a plaything, he did not disagree that there was some endearment on her side, but the way in which she treated his friend was beyond miserable, Ciri and him caught in the middle. The sad thing is Geralt could not see it, he followed her like a minion, and the big bad wolf turned to a lovesick puppy. Adva didn’t seem to mind the Witcher’s countenance, and there was a genuine affection for him. Jaskier might not have the Witcher’s sense, but he saw the looks, the subtle glances and the longing glimpses. If it weren’t for that, he would have set his cap to her himself. Adva was a beautiful woman, gifted with a voluptuous figure, violently blue eyes and plush lips that gave her a disarming smile paired with a caring personality; she was a catch for any hot-blooded man. But the hot-blooded man she seemed to want to be Geralt, especially going from the way her shoulders sagged as she tended the plants.

Adva busied herself tendering the plant in the glasshouse, Jaskier had followed her out and tended to her with soft praises and cheerful stories as an attempt to lift her mood. For the most part, Adva kicked herself for being that upset, Geralt lately had often been in a bad mood, but what had just happen wounded her. There was no reason why, nothing had occurred between them, so there was no reason for her to be hurt by his words, but she had thought they had grown close in the recent months. The Witcher’s scolding upset her.

‘We could go to town. Paint the town red.’ Jaskier lightly suggested as he plucked another flower up from Adva cuttings, causing her to look up and break her away from her thought.

‘…’

‘Come let have a night on the town. My coin purse is empty and I need to refill it with some wealthy listeners. The local tavern is a perfect spot, but I need a muse. Come with me.’ Jaskier cooed as he tucked the wildflower behind her ear.

‘Jaskier…’ Adva started before Jaskier cut her off with a stern look.

‘No…my creative flow is upon me. We will raid Triss’s wardrobe for clothing worthy of you and set off for the tavern. I envision an elegant undo with those pearl pin Triss has, oh and that burgundy dress I saw tucked at the back of his wardrobe. You are going to be my masterpiece, my subject of serenade; all will come to see you and listen to my songs. Now let's get you washed and polished. We are going to eat, drink and sing’ Jaskier bustled as he pushed her out the glasshouse.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jaskier was very pleased with himself, the dress that Triss had ordered was perfect, no man or woman would be able to look away for her. It was tight-fitting column dress in a mix of silk and velvet, at the waist two separate vents shot off in fine mesh material, embroidered in a silver thread, her sleeve made from the same material. The front had a deep V that showed off the milky flesh of her breasts, enticing the eye and showed off a barely modest cleavage. It had taken two gins to get her into the dress and another to let him apply the makeup. Her face was made up by brief sweep of powder, and a dark dusky pink lipstick painted on, making them seem all the more pouting. Two-layer of mascara had been applied to her eyelashes and a light pat of eyeshadow and delicate touch of eyeliner. Adva protested at the reflection at the mirror, but Jaskier ignored her and began to pin her curls over one shoulder with pearl hairpins before pushing her out the door.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

‘Geralt’

The alarmed voice carried throughout the house stirring the Geralt from his post-orgasm doze by Triss’s urgent cry. Casting his eyes around, he found that he had slept most of the day away. The sky was now darkening alarmingly; he was still sprawled across the bed, dry cum still plastered across his chest, his hand still encircling around his half-hard cock. Rearranging himself quickly, he straightened his clothes and slipped from the room as quietly and quickly as possible.

‘Really?’ Triss deadpanned as she tapped her foot outside her trainee's door.

‘What.’

‘I take it I can’t hope the Adva is lying half spend behind that door? I haven’t heard any screaming.’ The Mage deadpanned cross at him.

‘Triss drop it.’

‘Well maybe if you had she wouldn’t be missing. I can’t find her anywhere. One of the servants saw her heading off into town with Jaskier. That was at midday….’

‘Fuck’

So guys, what do you think?

I have a little competition for you. I need a pet name for Geralt to call Adva. Best one or the most recommended wins. My top picks are Goddess and Love as a genuinely think Geralt is the kinda guy who would worship you- Well in my dreams he is!!!

If anyone want to me tagged please message me :P

@broco8 @threepupsinapuddle @introvertedmouse @luxyash @shesthelastjedi @wonderlandfandomkingdom @crazynocturnalkiki

#witcher geralt #the witcher #netflix the witcher #geralt smut #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #Geralt #geralt x oc #geralt x smut #thewitcher

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kissjane · 4 years

Text

BACK TOGETHER / (Not so short) Fic

#24 from this prompt list.

Here @yadomik, a small forehead kiss just for you. 🐹

[CW - There is some dealing with being trans, coming out as trans, and body dysphoria, but it’s mostly fluffy, I think. Disclaimer, I’m not trans - but from the trans people in my environment I know the experience is different for anybody. Please let me know if you have any remarks.]

You’re my ex but I think I still have feelings for you

“I don’t know why you don’t just admit you’re still totally besotted with him, little brother,” Laura says conspiratorially.

David startles and tears his gaze away from Matteo, who is horsing around with the ok.cool squad across the room. Matteo seems happy, and David has been drinking in his laugh, the sparks in his beautiful blue eyes. It’s been a while since he experienced them, and he needs them to survive. He shrugs at Laura, taking a sip of his mate, and risks another glance at Matteo.

Shit. Matteo is looking him straight in the eye, and all the joy has left his features. They stare at each other for a heartbeat, unblinking, until Jonas shoves Matteo roughly in the shoulder, and Matteo plasters a smile on his face as he addresses Jonas.

David knows there’s only one person to blame for Matteo’s sadness. For a few blissful weeks, Matteo’s laughter had been abundant, carefree. David had been accepted into the group of boys without any issue – Matteo had introduced him as his boyfriend, and Jonas had made space on the bench for David, and that had been it. They’d been to the park a few times, they’d played video games, they’d gone to a party – and everything had been perfect.

And then David had broken up with Matteo, without explanation. He’d been too much of a coward to even do it in person. He’d sent Matteo a text message, saying it all went too fast, that he’d made a mistake, that he didn’t want anything from Matteo. And when Matteo had come over to his and Laura’s flat, trying to talk to David, he had made Laura send Matteo away.

“What good would that do me?”, he bitterly replies to Laura’s question. Because of course it is true. He still is completely head over heels for Matteo. Nothing has changed in that regard. Unfortunately, nothing else has changed either. David is still trans, and if he wants to be with Matteo, he’d have to come out.

Laura shakes her head incredulously.

“Sometimes I wonder if you were switched at birth, really. No brother of mine can be this dense.”

“What?”, David murmurs morosely. He was switched at birth, yeah. He should have gotten a male body from the start.

Laura smacks him in the arm, rather too hard if you ask David, and he yelps and rubs over the sore spot.

“You’re an idiot!”, Laura yells. “You love him, he loves you, what’s the fucking problem? Just tell him already. I have a feeling he won’t give a shit about it, and if he does, he’s not worth your time and your moping. But he’ll just be glad to have you back, believe me.”

David wishes he could have Laura’s confidence in his ex-boyfriend.

“He’s gay, Laura.”

“Oh my god,” Laura bursts out, smacking him again. “You’re even more stupid than I thought. Yeah, idiot, he’s gay. And you are a guy. I fail to see the problem.”

“You don’t understand. We were all a bit drunk one day, and Carlos was saying something about whatever he and Kiki do in their bedroom, and Matteo said he doesn’t see how anybody could be turned on by female body parts. Well, newsflash, Laura, but I have female body parts too!”

“Oh, David…” Laura stops the smacking, and instead pulls him in for a hug. “Okay, maybe that was a bit insensitive of him, but how was he supposed to know it would affect you? He may change his opinion when it’s about you. It’s like how some people say redheads are not their type until they fall for one anyway. That time I walked in on the both of you on the couch, I wouldn’t have said he wasn’t turned on by you, little brother…”

She lowers her voice and wiggles her eyebrows at the end of her sentence, and David blushes. He knows exactly what time Laura is referring to, and she is right, too. He and Matteo had been making out on the couch, and they had definitely both been into it. David had felt Matteo getting hard against his leg, his hips bucking almost involuntarily, and he had gotten wet in return. In hindsight, it had probably been a good thing that Laura had walked in on them, as awkward as it had been – otherwise Matteo might have been confronted with female body parts without any warning whatsoever.

He sighs.

He turns his eyes towards Matteo again. He can’t help it. Matteo is a flame and he is just the poor moth flying towards impending doom.

“Okay,” he says, with a finality he doesn’t feel. “Okay. I’ll tell him.”

“Good,” Laura says. ‘I’ll call him over, shall I?”

“Wait, what? No!”

He stops her just before she can lift her arm. She raises her eyebrows.

“Not now! I need to think about it! And not here, jesus…”

“Yes here, David, yes now. Just do it. Get it over with. There’s no point in beating yourself up over it any longer.”

And so David walks over to the boys, unsure of what to say, if Matteo will even want to hear him out.

Abdi notices him first, and he gestures to Jonas. The two of them come to stand in front of Matteo, shielding him from David’s reach.

“Hello, Schreibner,” Abdi says. It doesn’t even sound angry, in clear opposition to the look on Jonas’ face.

This isn’t gonna go easy. David almost gives up, but Laura is gesturing for him to go for it from the bar.

“Hello, Abdi, Jonas,” he therefore mumbles.

“How are you doing?”, Abdi asks, again very calmly, but not moving an inch, still keeping Matteo out of sight.

David has no interest in games.

“I would like to talk to Matteo,” he replies, trying to sound just as calm as Abdi. Abdi sighs and looks over his shoulder at Matteo, but Jonas is not as easily convinced.

“Luigi doesn’t want to talk to you. Leave him alone.”

He looks like he will not shy away from decking David one if he comes closer to Matteo, but he seems to have forgotten Matteo doesn’t like to make a scene. He steps around Jonas and stares at David.

“What is it?”, Matteo asks, softly as always, his voice neutral. David wants to reach out, swipe the blonde mane out of Matteo’s eyes. They seem so dull, and it aches David. He puts his trembling hands in his pockets before he can act on it.

“Can we go somewhere else?”

He pleads Matteo with his eyes, and Matteo wavers, but again Jonas intervenes.

“Say what you wanted to say, Schreibner, or leave.”

David stares at Matteo. He has no idea how to do this. The other boys are standing behind Matteo, silently, but listening. So much for privacy.

He can’t do it. He can’t come out like this, with a hostile Jonas, a subdued Matteo, and Carlos and Abdi ready to whisk Matteo away at the first sign of distress.

He hesitates.

Apparently, he waits too long, because Matteo sighs. His eyes become ever duller as he turns away.

“Bye, David,” he says, and it sounds like a farewell forever.

And that is just not possible. David thought he couldn’t talk in front of the boys, in a crowded pub, but he can. He can do everything if the alternative is losing Matteo.

“Matteo, wait!”

He puts his hand on Matteo’s arm in a reflex, tries to stop him from leaving. Matteo turns slowly, looking at where David’s hand is touching his skin.

David still hasn’t thought about how he wants to say it, but he doesn’t care anymore. All he cares about is Matteo.

“I have female parts.”

Silence hangs low and heavy, and it takes an eternity for Matteo to utter an undignified “Huh?”.

“You said girl’s parts are gross… that they don’t turn you on… and I panicked. Because I have them. I’m trans.”

It seems like Matteo stopped breathing. It seems like nothing moves, even though people are shuffling by them to get a drink, and the dance floor is exploding just behind them, and a couple is making out against the wall, less than two meters away. David doesn’t hear the music, doesn’t feel the drums vibrating through his body. He is unaware of everything, even his own breathing has become blurred somehow. All his senses are focused on Matteo.

“Okay.”

Everything comes rushing back in a nanosecond, the music, somebody pushing in David’s back to pass, the stickiness of the floor where David is shuffling his feet, the heat in the small venue.

Matteo is standing still, and David is unsure he understands.

“Okay? But you – I mean, I – you said… Do you understand? I have… I’m wearing a binder right now, and…” He makes a clumsy gesture to his groin. “I don’t look like you.”

“Okay,” Matteo says again, and David is still thinking something is not clicking for Matteo.

“But you said women don’t turn you on…”

“But you do,” Matteo interrupts.

David shuts up, unsure what to say or do.

“And you’re not a woman,” Matteo adds.

“But I –”

“Is this why you broke up?”, Matteo cuts him off once more, suddenly seemingly uncertain.

“Yes… I didn’t know how to tell you. I thought you wouldn’t want me anymore. I was afraid you’d think I had led you on.”

Matteo nods, and it looks like he wants to say something, but he closes his mouth again. David doesn’t know what to do now. Maybe Matteo has moved on, maybe Matteo is in love with somebody else now. It makes sense. Why would Matteo wait for somebody who broke up with him over text message?

“So are you saying you still want to be with Matteo?”, Carlos’ voice drifts through the haze.

David nods, his head hung low.

“I get it if I’m too late. But I love you, Matteo. I always did and I think I always will. Please, can you give me just one more chance?”

He closes his eyes, afraid of the answer. What if Matteo says no?

Then he feels two hands on his cheeks, and somebody gently lifts his head. He refuses to open his eyes though, pressing them close harder to keep the tears that are amassing from spilling. And then – then Matteo kisses him softly on the forehead, on his eyelids, his cheeks. David opens his eyes, letting the tears spill. Matteo’s eyes are wet too, and he leans in. David answers, and then they are kissing again, like all those times before, and yet so thrilling and new. There are no more secrets between them now, and David smiles into the kiss, feeling home and safe for the first time in months.

The boys cheer, and they let go of each other for a second, to smile back at them.

“If you ever as much as think about hurting Luigi again, David, I swear to God…”, Jonas says, but he has a smile on his face. And it doesn’t matter anyway, because David doesn’t plan on causing Matteo any pain whatsoever ever again, for the rest of their lives.

From across the pub, he sees Laura take a satisfied sip of her wine, thumbs up at David, and he blushes, hiding his face against Matteo. Yeah, he is still totally besotted with Matteo. He’s not ashamed to admit it. Who could blame him for that, anyway.

#I write things #Davenzi #50 cliché prompts #🐹

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heavenlyborne · 3 years

Note

Why does your brother like mermaids so much?

“You will refer to my great and honorable elder brother as Saint Charlos, peasant...” Shalria said quietly, her voice soft as silk but carrying an indefinite edge of thinly-veiled annoyance at the lack of respect used in reference to her older sibling. It passed as suddenly as it arrived however, the Celestial Dragon frowning thoughtfully as she pondered upon her brother’s curious obsession with the colourful fish-people of Ryuga Kingdom. “It had to have been... oh, nearly ten years ago, shortly after our beloved mother’s passing. I was seven at the time while my brother had just had his twelfth birthday. He hadn’t enjoyed it for reasons you can easily understand, for our dearest mother’s loss was still raw in our hearts. Nothing could make him smile as he believed mother had gotten lost, that she needed to be found. He didn’t understand that she wasn’t ever coming back...” Shalria continued, a pitying expression crossing her face as she thought back to that day... Poor Charlos. He had never been the quickest thinker in the family despite their great and honorable father’s attempts to help his son understand that heaven eventually reclaimed their people. Every Tenryūbito would hear those hallowed calls when their time on this mortal plane was done, and knowing that mother would be waiting patiently for her family to rejoin her soothed the young woman’s cold heart. But then Shalria remembered, when that abominable Donquixote Mjosgard had returned from his ill-fated voyage from that dreadful ‘Fishman Island’ after having failed to recaptured his escaped slaves. The very place where that filthy red fish had spawned from, having dared invade the sanctity of their home and free their slaves! The Celestial Dragon hissed at the memory of Mary Geoise still burning in her mind, thousands of slaves lost overnight and lo and behold, that green-haired idiot had actually brought one of them back - not as one of his slaves, but as an ally of their people-! Really! Those disgusting fish, becoming allies of dragons! Charlos had not smiled once since their mother’s passing and yet it had been that thing, that pestilent plaice that had dared hold some passing resemblence to the Rosward Matriarch, Rosward Nolaloth - that actually made her brother happy! Queen Otohime, it had been called, flashing a beautiful smile with painted red lips and pearly white fangs at the sullen child while extending it’s condolences for their dear mother’s loss along with the deepest respects from Ryuga Kingdom... But Shalria saw the scheming creature for what it was, thinking it was actually a person but alas, her dear simple brother fell for it’s lies hook and sinker. How he’d finally smiled again upon hearing those treacherous words, taken by the others as a sign of blessing that negotiations should go forwards. From that moment on, the youngest child knew there was nothing she could have done to prevent relations from taking place, thus unable to prevent the fish from charming Donquixote Mjosgard into thinking he was human. He’d even freed his remaining slaves eventually, becoming just like his nameless cousin whom all Tenryūbito had stricken from the family records but still spoke about in hushed tones, especially when Mjosgard proved himself to be just as mad as his relative after all.

“When Mjosgard returned from Fishman Island, he brought their fish queen with him and somehow it worked it’s nasty fish magic upon that man and my brother! Since then he’s not stopped wanting one for his very own and becomes quite fixated whenever one is around or spoken of in conversation. So there you have it, why my dear older brother is so besotted by the things. Now, speak of it no more. It is an unpleasant memory to dwell upon any longer and may cause me to say something I’ll regret.”

#Anonymous #Yooo this was a good question anon!#Thanks very much for it!#✨;; long post #tw long post #Queen Otohime talked to Charlos when he was younger #She must have been a very kind and lovely woman to convince Mjosgard into becoming a better person when he was rotten too #So Charlos liked mermaids ever since and wants to recapture the happiness he felt that day #Shalria is just 'why'#Yes she is racist towards Fishmen and Merfolk #It's a World Noble thing so please don't send me hate as it's how they're considered when they're perfectly fine people #Just not human

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thatfeanorian · 4 years

Note

9 + Russingon being idiots :)

From this meme, send me a number and character(s) if you want one!

“You’re in love with her.” Maedhros’ voice is steady although his heart feels anything but, beating out an erratic series of thumps inside his chest that surely cannot be healthy. Fingon looks up, a nearly coming expression of surprise crossing his face that at nearly any other time would not have failed to make Maedhros laugh, but now just cements the truth deeper.

The object of Fingon’s obvious affections dances below with their cousin Finrod, her skin glowing under the silver light of Telperion, oblivious to the world around her as she spins. A bubble of laughter escapes Fingon’s throat as he motions downwards,

“With her?” He asks, and Maedhros raises an eyebrow,

“You didn’t think you were being subtle, did you?” He retorts, and Fingon’s brow knits with worry, no doubt terrified he has revealed his secret longing to the golden-haired nis below, and Maedhros reaches out an arm, resting his hand on the smooth fabric of Fingon’s pale party robes.

“I am sure she has not noticed, do not worry cousin. It appears she is truly in her own world down there.” Fingon spares a glance over the balcony edge, his face flushing as he spots her flying from their cousin’s arms and into those of a stranger.

“I would never presume to pin my affections on Amarië!” Fingon protests, his voice weak, and Maedhros’ heart sinks an inch further towards his stomach, keeping his face clear for the sake of propriety even as his fingers slide off his cousin’s arm and the warmth he can feel beneath the thin fabric of Fingon’s robes.

“Ah, but do you really have any control over who you love and who you do not?” He replies, a sad smile crossing his face as he looks down at his cousin’s angelic face in the silver light. Surely, there has never been a more beautiful sight than his glowing, bronze, statuesque cousin who’s laughter draws adoring sighs from more people that Fingon would ever admit.

The golden beauty below —Amarië, why does that name sound familiar— would be a better match than Maedhros could ever hope to present his cousin and uncle.

“Russandol…” Fingon says with a half-smile flitting over his face, waving a hand in front of Maedhros’ eyes,

“You’re brooding again. I thought we agreed there would be none of that tonight, just the two of us?” Maedhros blinks, refocusing on the brilliant blue eyes which are searching his, and he forces a laugh from his throat,

“I am sure I shall be abandoned shortly in favour of your golden love down there.” Fingon’s brow knits in confusion,

“Russo, I’d rather spend a thousand parties with you than a minute with her, or do you not wish my company for the evening anymore. I am sure there are a thousand women who would throw themselves at you if given the chance.” Maedhros shudders, sure his cousin is correct, and hating the thought of spending even a moment in the arms of a stranger who knows no more knows him than Melkor, besotted with the image of a prince he tries so desperately to keep intact.

“Please don’t tease, Finno, you know there is nothing I hate more than the idiots who love me only because of my face,” he murmurs, and it is his turn to flush as Fingon nudges his shoulder and points to a small densely packed group of nissë who appear to be watching their location with a rather predatory eye,

“I told you it would have just been easier to pick a nis to accompany this time, the longer you appear available the bolder they will become.” Maedhros grimaces and wonders how the conversation has strayed so far from his intended (and personally painful ) course,

“And I told you in no uncertain terms that the answer to that stipulation was no. I will bring no nissë when the opportunity for truly welcome company is right in front of me.” It must be Maedhros’ imagination, or perhaps the —admittedly large— volume of wine his cousin has drunk so far that has caused the blush appearing on his cousin’s cheeks, and Maedhros lets out a long sigh,

“And yet, here I am, punished for my assumptions.” He motions below again, somehow managing to keep a benevolent familial smile on his face as his heart constricts into knots within his chest,

“How much longer will you wait, Findekáno? Are you determined to prove me wrong?” Fingon gazes up fondly at him again, letting out a snort of laughter,

“You really think I have the guts to even think about pining after Findaráto’s love?” He asks incredulously, and Maedhros suddenly realizes why the name Amarië sounds so familiar, their cousin has been courting her for nearly a year now.

“Finno, believe it or not, I recognize the signs of infatuation when I see them. Findaráto’s sweetheart or not, she has clearly enchanted you.” Fingon’s face turns an odd shade of maroon and his eyes drop to the floor,

“It wasn’t her I was thinking of.” He mumbles and Maedhros cannot hold back his laughter at Fingon’s childish shyness, shuffling his feet on the floor and refusing to meet his cousin’s eye, even as his breathing shallows, because for just a moment there he thought perhaps he once again had a chance. And now? Fingon has slipped between his fingers again, gone like smoke and leaving nothing but his broken heart.

“Well then, you must tell me about her, what is she like?” Maedhros replies, if only to carry on the conversation. There is —in truth— nothing he would like to hear about less, and yet Fingon is his friend, his cousin, and there is nothing Maedhros would not sacrifice for him.

“Well, he’s very strong and handsome, tall, you know, your dream knight in shining armor.” Fingon says, a soft grin spreading over his face, and Maedhros leans back against a marble pillar, allowing him to imagine just for a moment that it actually could be himself Fingon describes,

“He is the most beautiful elda I have ever set eyes on and I knew from the moment I first saw him I wanted to marry him.” Fingon continues, and Maedhros hums softly, heart clenching painfully somewhere near his navel,

“You’ll have to give me more information than that before I can make an educated guess, Finno.” Fingon’s eyes go wide for a moment, though the expression shifts back to a more neutral one so quickly that Maedhros is sure he imagined it,

“He- He’s here tonight,” Fingon offers, and Maedhros’ eyes scan the room wondering which of the hundreds of nér below him Fingon has bestowed his love upon, and when he looks back up, the fondly exasperated expression he has seen so many times on his cousin’s face is once again firmly planted across his lips,

“Oh, Valar, you really need me to spell it out, Maitimo?” He grumbles and Maedhros’s heart leaps into his throat thundering at the same pace as the music echoing upwards from the floor below them. Surely Fingon cannot be saying what he thinks he is… not after all the years he has silently pined for the younger elda, hating himself and his desires when he knew that Fingon only sought friendship from him.

“It’s you, Russo. I hope I’m right in assuming it’s okay to say this, but I would really like to kiss you.” Fingon says, the pink blush settling firmly onto his cheeks, and Maedhros’ lungs seem to have forgotten how to function for a moment as his brain whirls, attempting to comprehend this latest development and casual destruction of everything he has ever known,

“Oh,” is all he manages, but from the smile on Fingon’s face, that seems to be enough.

#my writing #silmarillion #russingon #dumb boys in love #Mae is oblivious #and we support him

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spiltscribbles · 4 years

Note

Oooh! Prompts! Remus and Sirius moving in together please! 💛

Notes: Thank you SO SO much gorgeous<3 I’m like kinda embarrassed that this is kinda shit, especially because you’re writing is so fucking gorgeous, so I’m sorry.

A Reblog Is Worth A Thousand Stars | Send Me A Prompt

“YOU!”

With a start that almost makes him drop the vase in his hands, Sirius turns around to find his surly looking boyfriend glaring daggers straight at him, lips pursed and nose wrinkled ever so fetchingly. “Me?”

“You!”

“ Is this a Muggle game of semantics or something Moons, because for the life of me I’m not following.”

Remus’s glower only deepens, radiating a distinct sort of disapproval that could only ever be honed in by years of prefectness. “You thief!” He squawks, hands perched on his hips, and mouth twisted up mutinously.

“Is this the part where you say I stole your heart?” Sirius goads with a cocked brow, resuming their unpacking. “Because love, that line gets old after the millionth recital, but I do appreciate the spirit.”

“Wha? Na—no that is not what I was going to say you egotistical prick!” Remus scoffs— just a bit flustered with a dusting of pink touching the tops of his sharp cheekbones. “You ate the last spring role!” He accuses emphatically, almost tripping over the over a dozen boxes that are strewn across their newly furnished living room. Sirius can’t help but be endeared by Remus and his everythingness.

“Yes, yes I did Wise Guy,” He confirms distractedly. “I also dipped it into some spicy mustard and drank a bottle of water while I was at it… Your point being?”

“My point you utter berk is that it was mine! I called dibs!”

“I remember no such thing,” Sirius sniffs haughtily, moving to rearrange the photographs on their mantel. (And yeah, it’s still fucking insane to him that he’s become so domestic that he’s got a mantel over the fireplace that the man he loves more than any other had insisted was absolutely crucial to have if they were to move in together—probably for really romantical love making sessions in front of it’s flames with the bliss of no worries of anyone barging in on them, or griping if they were being to loud—Which by the way, James honestly had no right in complaining about considering his track record with his and Lily’s on again, off again mating ritual.

“Liar!" Sirius honestly wouldn’t be surprised if Remus started stomping his feet right about now, and pouting up a storm if the childishly cross expression on his pretty face is anything to go by. (And honestly how could one man be so adorable and sexy all at once.) “You were finishing up the shrimp tempura— because you are a posh idiot without any tastebuds— , and I said that I’ll be right back to get some of the boxes in the spare room, and to save it for me! And then I come here, and I find this! This breach of all we’ve built together!”

Sirius barely conceals his snort. “Is that right? The foundations of our whole, entire bloody relationship? And right after this afternoon, when I made you—“

Two spots of color blotch high on Remus’s cheeks and he cuts him off before Sirius can completely recount the frankly remarkable romp they had just finished with before deciding they needed some nourishment before getting back to unpacking. “Don’t you try to change the subject you stealing stealer who steals!”

“That insult leaves something to be desired Moonbeam.”

“You’re a prick.”

“And you wound me!” Sirius mock sobs, slamming his fist against his chest and swinging back his arm against his forehead. “A plague on you, and your family! And another on your family’s cow.”

Remus’s face morphs into his painfully unimpressed expression, (Hint, it’s very, very flat). “I’ll take your intentional dodge as an admission,” He scoffs, arms crossed tight against his chest.

“I admit nothing!” Sirius shouts in an overdone accent that would better fit the set of Downton Abbey. “Nothing Lupin!”

Remus rolls his eyes at Sirius’s hyperbolic attitude, and okay. Yes. Perhaps Sirius remembers a similar conversation akin to what Remus had described occurring only ten minutes prior. But to be quite honest, Sirius was hardly listening. Remus’s got on one of Sirius’s oversized t-shirts, a pair of boxer-briefs, and nothing else. So yeah, he should definitely not be expected to be paying anything any mind while his beyond gorgeous boyfriend is sitting there, impossibly long legs put out for display, and one perfectly alabaster shoulder bare where the shirt has slipped right off, effectively derailing Sirius's thoughts to how he’d teasingly kissed across his collar bone just earlier that night, nibbling on the hinge of his jaw while Remus had been writhing beneath him. so Really and truly, he should’ve never been expected to remember anything— let alone something as trivial as dibs— if his utterly perfect partner is right there for the taking, a determined dent between his brows, and intermittently rinsing his hand through his disheveled locks of hair like spun gold, excited over the prospect of fixing up this flat that is now their home.

Dear Merlin above does Sirius love this bloke with every fiber of his being.

“Well,” he relents, swaggering up closer to Remus so that they’re standing only inches apart. “Even if I did remember that such a discussion had taken place how you’ve described it—“

“It did, and you know it Black!” He harrumphs, using Sirius’s surname just to get a rise out of him.

“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now love, is There?.”

Sirius’s sure that he’s won the argument and they could just move on, until he catches the glint in Remus’s impossibly luminous eyes—a glint that always means trouble, a glint that’s never failed to make each one of Sirius’s nerve endings go ablaze.

“Is that right?”

“I reckon it is Moonbeam,” he leers, is momentarily distracted by the downright angelic smile Remus casts his way right then, but suddenly, an onslaught of fingers are piercing into his ribs, wiggling and tickling him into submission.

“Say you’re sorry!” Remus demands, an effortless grin of his own swept across his lovely face, brighter than the morning sun. And yeah, maybe Sirius should just admit that it was his bad, apologize a thousand times over in the form of lingering kisses and caressing hands.… But the thing is, Sirius’s stubbornness has always been too rigid for his own good, and he’s always loved prodding at Remus till He just went off like the world’s most darling firecrackers.

“Never you absolute wanker!”

“I won’t relent till you profess an apology to my satisfaction,” Remus scoffs— a playful giggle lilting his overly formal words.

“And I won’t surrender!” He parries with a leer. Sirius tickles back harder, and Remus shimmies around so much that He ends up jabbing him in the eye, ramming straight into his chest, and effectively sprawling them—all long limbs and crooked angles—onto the wooden floorboards.

“Just say you’re sorry!” He insists, strangled laughter starting to gargle his words while Sirius just gazes down at him, mercilessly besotted.

“”S not my fault you didn’t take it with you Lupin, i’ve committed no grievance.”

“Oh come off it pretty boy.”

“Oy! I’m ruggedly handsome you arse!”

“Testy, testy.”

“You’re the pretty one.”

“Oh suck my cock.”

“Been there done that.”

Remus seems to be fighting down another laugh before he knees him lightly in the abdomen enough that Sirius tenses, giving Remus the chance to switch their positions once again, so that He’s back on top.

“My have the tables turned,” He taunts with one of his most dazzling smiles, dimples in full effect, and crinkles around his pretty sea glass eyes.

“I like how you think I’m at all opposed to this position,” Sirius says with a pixilated gleam, arching back enough so that their cotton clad dicks buck up against each other.

“Perv!” Remus scolds, smacking his chest playfully. “Now admit that I won!”

“Never!”

Somehow, amidst all the thrashing bodies and choked peals of laughter, Sirius flips him over— slight body beneath his own, with Remus’s wrists pinned over his head and his legs wrapped around Sirius’s waste.

“Now, now Monsieur Moony, I reckon that spring has rolled into winter for you,” Sirius most definitely does not laugh raucously at his own pun.

“That’s not even the direction that the seasons go in,” Remus frowns, nose wrinkled indelicately, a tell Sirius’s picked up on whenever He’s mad over an outcome.

“You still lost though,” Sirius barbs with no real bite, pecking a quick kiss to his lips in solace.

“You’re awful, and I’m breaking up with you,” Remus sniffs in turn—wiggling underneath him to try and get loose.

“Oh, you love me really.” Sirius preens like the cat who’s caught the canary— the world’s most beautiful and brilliant and ruffled canary that is.

“Lies and slander!” Remus waggles his tongue between his teeth, and Sirius dips down to bite it teasingly.

“Hmm, now isn’t this cute,” the pair scramble away from each other, utterly stunned once spotting Lily of all people, gaze twinkling and lips set into a firm smirk, eyeing them while leisurely lounging against the door frame.

“You two really can’t keep yr sodding hands off of each other, can you?”

Remus completely reddens, totally flustered, while Sirius only follies back a smug sort of grin at the force of nature that is Lily Evans, his practical sister-in-law, remus’s best friend, and all around genius.

“How long have you been watching Red dearest,” Sirius asks wryly, making it so now Lily’s the one who’s flushing..

“I hate you Black.” She says shortly, and Sirius’s beam doesn’t falter. “Re, as your spiritual older sister—“

“You’re barely a month older Lils,” Remus interjects, but Lily just goes on as if he hadn’t.

“I think it’s my job to remind you that he’s not the only bloke in London with a decent shoulder to waste ratio and nice hair. We can snag you someone with a bit of brains even.”

Sirius tosses her a V shaped salute, and Lily sticks her tongue out in retaliation, but for his part, Remus only tries to cut through the tension with one of his friendlier grins, though it just comes out as an awkward grimace. “I forgot that you’re dropping off the boxes tonight.”

“Evidently Ace,” she snorts, strutting further into the apartment and setting down the box of photos Remus had asked her to bring over from their old place. “Far too busy snogging with the boy who single handedly received the most detentions in Hogwarts history, while also, somehow— by the grace of God— threatened our stances as top of the class.”

“Oy Evans, can’t take all the credit for myself. Jem was my better half, till he moved on to the likes of you.”

Lily ignores him, save for the way her pretty face gets a bit scrunched out of irritation. “Ace, I ask you, what would McGonagall say if she saw her favorite prefect gallivanting around with such a delinquent.

Remus lets out one of his rare and beautiful laughs, something that feels buoyant and is really more breath than sound, but is still so vibrant and splendid and it never fails to thrust Sirius back to the Hogwarts Express, where he and Remus had first met as a couple of wide eyed eleven year olds, and all the contradicting emotions Remus had provoked upon first sight. Wonder, and confusion. Intrigue, and diffidence. Wanting, and fear. It’s an attribute of Remus's that Sirius will never not be amazed by.

“Ah, Minnie my love, how I do miss her so, now where were we Moonbeam?”

“I’m still standing here Black,” Lily reproves with a scoff.

“I think it was about here,” Sirius continues, dipping down to kiss at Remus’s protruding collar bones.

“Settle down mutt,” Remus rebukes with no real heat, a gentle hand carding through Sirius’s hair.

“God, you two are already an old married couple.”

“You really do know the best moments to interrupt sweetheart.” Sirius snipes with a playful roll to his eyes, his hand discretely resting over the small of Remus’s back.

“And you have no decency, corrupting Remus the way that you do.”

“Okay first, I take fucking offense, you know better than me that Moony here was the mastermind behind most of our delightful pranks.”

“You mean your childish inconveniences you plagued on the unsuspecting public?”

“And secondly, we didn’t even get to the fun, currupting part because of your oh so lovely interruption.” Sirius retorts moodily, though he soon suspects the joke was a wrong play to make when Lily’s smile suddenly goes predatory and sHe flips back a lock of her wind blown curls, ready to pounce.

“Well perhaps I just stopped by to make sure you weren’t further defiling my dear Remus. But I guess that giant love bite on your neck proves that I’m too late.”

Sirius can’t help the chuckle that pours out of his lips at her needled observation, smacking a hand to conceal the hickey sHe’s taunting him about, knowing exactly where it is, it’s been a topic of teasing all morning long from a smug Sirius to a properly indignant Remus.

“He-he just marks easily,” Remus pipes out, cheeks completely infused red and worrying on his bottom lip. Sirius suspects that Lily just knew that the one chink in his armor is prodding at Remus’s less than poised acts.

Lily rolls her eyes in a way that convinces Sirius that sHe doesn’t believe it for a second. “Whatever you say oh Saint Remus,” sHe smirks with no more argument. “but pray tell, are you guys about done swapping spit around me? Or is that going to forever be a regular occurrence in the Remus and Sirius show?”

“Now I’d reckon that’ll get a sold out crowd every night, don’t you?” Sirius asks, directing his question at the pair of of them while taking Remus’s hand, and pushing him even closer— just always preferring to have some sort of contact with him.

“Oh put a sock in it,” Remus harrumphs, finally starting to return to his normal coloring in the midst of Lily’s unrestrained cackles.

“Aw, don’t be shy love, it’s only the truth.”

Remus presses the pads of his fingers to Sirius’s lips and glares at him for good measure, “Some things are better left for private.”

“Hah,” Lily scoffs, weight slung to her left hip. “As if I don’t get a front row seat every time you two are within even in a ten foot radius of each other—OH hey, I know that look Ace! The one eyed squint, and the teeth. Well your “I’m about to kill my gorgeous best friend,” look has no place here, i’ll see my way out now. Just promise not to christen every room in this place, kay? We’d all like to visit without the residual specs haunting us! And I know how moody you get without your daily dose of my scintillating company.”

Sirius thinks that Remus’s trying to skewer a whole in the spot where Lily was just standing, if the terribly cross look on his face says anything. It’s precious, Sirius can’t help but snicker.

“Don’t laugh at me! I’m your boyfriend for Merlin’s sake! You’re s’pose to be on my side!”

“I wasn’t laughing at you Moons,” he kisses the fingers Remus has still got on his mouth, mock consolatory. “Just incredibly turned on.”

That dent between Remus’s brows is back again for a moment, but then his beauteous features smoothen out and He just pecks a quick kiss to Sirius’s lips before rifling through the box Lily brought over, muttering a light,”Whatever,” as He does so.

There’s a quick wrapping to the window, and Sirius glances over to find his owl— Odysseus— with a bundle of letters attached to his left leg. By rote, Sirius feeds him some of the pellets they keep there for convenience, and unwinds the bundle of parchments, beginning to shuffle through them.

There’s a copy of the Nightly prophet with the murder of another Muggle family splattered all over the front cover in a sickeningly gauche manner, a free trial subscription to the Quibbler with a reading for Scorpios in the month of October, a letter from Peter about his mum and sisters driving him up the rails, an invitation from Marlene for he and Remus to come out to dinner with them for Dorcas’s Birthday, and a ominous letter from James of all paper that simply says a gift for Moony.

Bewildered to why he hadn’t just sent it along with Lily, Sirius tares off the attached photograph only to find something truly, horrendously vile. a photograph of himself. One that was definitely taken fifth year— Sirius’s worst year where he absolutely could not stand being around his family for a moment longer, and James was getting more settled with his studies, an Remus was dating that prefect prick from Ravenclaw and was exceedingly elusive from Marauders nights out. This was so obviously taken on one of those aforementioned nights out that it’s comical. Sirius’s hair is as long as it’s ever been— touching the tops of his shoulders— and he’s chugging down a fruity, pink concoction— the type that Rosmerta was always cooking up for them— hand over fist, and he’s got on puppy ears and a fake nose. In layman’s terms he looks like a complete and total pillock. Drunk off his ass so much so that you can see the stars in his eyes even through the clunky glasses he had stolen from James— convinced that he was sporting them for purely esthetic reasons and not because the knob is actually as blind as a bloody bat— and his finger is pointed and mouth is open in the way it always is when he’s ranting about something or the other.

It’s perhaps the only photograph in history where Sirius isn’t looking his typical, jaw dropping gorgeous self.

There’s about a thousand different retorts he wants to scribble on a spare parchment and shoot right back to James— ranging from nasty to downright despicable— but then he catches the familiar peal of laughter coming from behind him. He’s not surprised when he sees Remus—beautiful, ingenuous, perfect Remus who’s physically incapable of taking a photograph less than effortlessly lovely, even while pissed— peering over his shoulder in utter amusement.

“Oh My God I need to ask James to send me one of the hundreds of copies he surely has.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Sirius retorts darkly.

“I’ll use an enlarging charm and hang it up above the mantel, for prosperity. The one time Sirius looks the way he acts,” he moves his hand over an invisible marquee and looks so damn smug that Sirius could kiss him, and in fact, that’s exactly what he does.

“I hate him,” is all he says afterwards, once he’s pulled away.

“I can’t believe that’s you!” Remus continues with eyes full of mirth.

“I want to banish him, no. No I want to banish all of them. All of our friends, we can make knew ones Moons. I mean look at us! We’re a catch!” He tosses the letters onto the newly acquired sofa as if they have personally affronted him and all he stands for.

“ Oh brilliant idea love.”

“That sounds like your sarcastic voice Moons.”

“No, you’ve got my full support. this’s our castle Pads, we can banish whom ever we like,” Remus balances on his tiptoes, and smacks an exasperated kiss onto his cheek. Sirius can barely contain the glee that’s dancing in his eyes at the thought of this being their own personal castle— a fortress just for the pair of them to escape within— causing another swell of fondness to pound in his chest.

“Well maybe we can give’m another chance,” he relents, melting into how Remus’s locked his arms around his neck, and is smiling up at him with all the love in the world shining unadulteratedly in his lovely eyes. “I mean they did help us move all those boxes and all.”

Remus hums his agreement while he presses his forehead against his own, endlessly endeared.

“What a generous king,” He goads, words hugged with fondness.

“Ooo, I like that, call me that in bed and I might bless you with my royal sector.”

Remus thumps his nose, “Your more tolerable when you don’t speak and just stand there being pretty.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty Moonykins?”

Remus shakes his head ruefully, the smile on his face one that Sirius knows well— one that means he’s reluctantly endeared. “Dork.”

“Plonker.”

There lips meet for another kiss and it feels like all the resplendence in the galaxy being distilled between just the two of them.

#Wolfstar #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #marauders #spilt ink #sugarplums #kattlupin #so totally completely fluff #RIP #life's been total shit this week #so I guess this is a thing #I'm sorry sweets

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ariainstars · 4 years

Text

Rey Palpatine, Kylo Ren or Ben Solo: Who’s Got the Button?

Warning: longer post.

Who Is Rey?

Sigh. I can’t believe I was this naïve. Really, I can’t.

There are narrative parallels between The Force Awakens and A New Hope, of course. But apart from desert planet and droid, the parallels between Rey and Luke, which many fans took for a sign that she might be a secret daughter of his, are few.

Rey is a slave on a desert planet who collects and repairs spare parts. Her parents were nobodies. She doesn’t want to leave because it would make her lose the tenuous link she has with her family.

She saves someone she just met in a brave, crazy stunt where she proves that she is a very good pilot even with hardly any training.

She meets a kind elderly man who tells her about the Force. He is a father figure for her because she doesn’t have one, but he gets killed about a day after she met him.

She had barely known about the Jedi but finds out she has talent in the Force, so instead of going home she is sent to train with someone whom she doesn’t know and who is not very willing to do so, and not capable of being a father figure for her either.

This is Anakin to a T! And Anakin ended up being the bad guy in the end. I’m sure that watching the PT, no one who was unfamiliar with the saga would have believed he would be.

It is not a coincidence that Ben’s light sabre looked like a cross and Rey’s like a fork: that was another dead giveaway announcing that he would be the victim in this story, and she the perpetrator.

„Show me again the power of the darkness, and I will let nothing stand in our way. Show me, grandfather, and I will finish what you started.” Kylo Ren in The Force Awakens

Ben and Rey are a dyad, meaning that in one way or another, their destinies parallel one another. It was he who wanted to “finish what his grandfather started”: but it was she who actually finished what her grandfather had started. Jedi and Skywalker family are extinct; Finn may or may not be Force-sensitive, but he’s not trained. All of this leaves Rey solely in charge. And everybody cheers her, the way Palpatine was cheered when he ended the clone wars. But the dirty work had been done by Anakin; same goes for his grandson.

It all fits together too well: Rey was always meant to turn out evil, while the “bad guy” in truth was the hero all along. If you watch the Sequel Trilogy again and feel annoyed by their development, try to look at it from this perspective.

“Now, fulfill your destiny and take your father’s place at my side!” Palpatine in Return of the Jedi

Palpatine always needed someone young and fresh by his side to give him strength; which could be explained by the fact, finally addressed in The Rise of Skywalker, that he is some kind of clone. Not being capable of living on his own, he wanted Rey to kill him so that all of the darkness inside him would possess her, and he managed. Now he is reborn, and the young woman stepping into his shoes believes that the worst is behind her. The truth is that the Enemy is now an inherent part of her.

The good news is that by this time, Rey has also made the experience of unconditional love: Kylo / Ben saw her at her worst, but he still cared about her. Some viewers thought that Rey would be the key to Ben’s redemption, but honestly: that story had already been told with Luke and his father. The alleged bad guy saving the alleged heroine from herself is a new message in Star Wars; a message so powerful that I still didn’t get over it.

The Heir of Sheev Palpatine

Palpatine’s role in the saga tends to be downplayed although he is the mastermind behind it all: in the PT he is literally one of the first characters we see. It is easy to say that he was the devil incarnate who wanted absolute power - he also was a sly and influential politician, and after the clone wars he did bring peace to the galaxy reuniting the Republic and the separatists under the roof of the Empire. Anakin and his heirs could not make up for his sins because they were busy with their own and the Jedi’s.

As the audience, we want to see our heroes happy; yet their failures and unhappiness are often necessary.

Anakin and Padmé had to die so their children could grow up the way they did, two idealistic souls untainted by the Jedi’s sins.

Leia had to lose Alderaan, else the princess would hardly have had a chance to marry the scoundrel.

Luke had to lose his home with his uncle and aunt, else he wouldn’t have agreed to come with Obi-Wan in the first place; and he had to go through the trauma with his father’s revelation to become the wise and strong hero of Return of the Jedi.

And sad as it is, Ben had to spend almost all of his life in a dark place. The few moments of understanding he had with Rey in TLJ were probably the few rays of lights in his whole adult life; no wonder he fell so deeply for her that he would literally have done anything for her; he had to become a besotted idiot who saved the girl he loved although she had literally killed him and usurped his whole heritage.

Meaning: Rey was always meant to take over.

This is not only the story of the Skywalker family, it’s also the story of a galaxy in desperate want of balance and peace. And if you want to tell how that is accomplished, you can’t erase Palpatine from the equation. Palpatine is a “clone”, i.e. he is not wholly human; which makes him a parallel to Anakin who ostensibly had been generated without a father. Rey, flawed as she is, is a young woman of flesh and blood.

The Prequel Trilogy humanized Darth Vader; the Sequel Trilogy did the same with Palpatine. Few viewers expected this because one hardly gets interested in the villain’s bloodline. Vader’s portrayal as Anakin Skywalker in the prequels was also largely disliked because the young man was everything but cold and sardonic like the villain he became later. And as many viewers did not like to see “their” Darth Vader humanized (portrayed as a good little boy and then an ardent, stormy young man), now we don’t like Palpatine coming back in form of a young woman, who for sure is deeply flawed but not by far the monster he was. Palpatine always wanted to use Anakin’s, the Chosen One’s, power for himself; and with his final plan he managed to blend his heritage with the soul of the last Skywalker scion.

The Heir of Anakin Skywalker

Vader had to become Palpatine’s ally and to serve him loyally to make the old devil let his guard down enough for him to kill him at last, just like Kylo had to fool Snoke that he was still on his side while in the Throne Room he was silently plotting his demise. Anakin always was the hero of the Skywalker saga, a fact that is largely overlooked. His son pushed him to do the right thing, but the decision was his own, and he paid with his life.

Many fans of the Original Trilogy and also of the prequels dislike the sequels heartily because to them it “retconned” or “cancelled” what had happened before. Which is not quite true; the original heroes did find their happy ending. We witnessed what came after that, which irritates us because it’s something we usually never face once the credits roll or the book covers are closed. That does not mean that the heroes’ accomplishments are obliterated.

My guess: these fans might be right and the Skywalker saga is indeed at its end with Return of the Jedi. The saga was Anakin Skywalker’s story, and he died.

What did not die was his heritage - his sins, his excruciating pain, but also his heroism, and his prophecy as the one who would “bring Balance to the Force.” The mistake of his heirs was having wanted to go back to what once had been. Their links to the past were tenuous, e.g. we never learn how Luke came to know what had made the Jedi fail (the content of his second lesson to Rey); in any case, he must have learned it only after the fall of his own temple, in order to explain why he wanted to give up on the Jedi. Obi-Wan never told about his own faults, the clone wars, the Republic, the creation of Darth Vader; most importantly, he never mentioned to Luke that his father actually was the Chosen One, and that the Force wants Balance. It is not surprising that Luke and his friends could not build lasting peace, not knowing what had caused the conflicts. They had to fail; “failure is the greatest teacher” means that only from understanding and moving away from those failures the galaxy will (hopefully) finally learn to avoid repeating the Empire, the First Order, the Final Order etc. over and over again.

I also did not like very much what the sequels did to the heroes of the original trilogy, honestly. But had they survived, found together again, and or proven more heroic and less flawed than they were this time around, the general audience would never have stopped pestering the studios with wanting more of Han, Luke and Leia. And that’s not how it’s supposed to be. They’ve done their time; they had their happy ending. They had their hero’s journey. They ended the Empire the way they wanted, their achievements were completed. It is up to the next generation to learn from the past and build something new and better. We, in our everyday life, also have to bring the people we once looked up to (parents, teachers, mentors etc.) down from their pedestal and to acknowledge the good they did but also see their failures and limitations, if we ever want to get on with our own lives.

In this light, the Sequel Trilogy is indeed not part of Anakin Skywalker’ story. If Ben is brought back and stands good on his promise of finishing the Chosen One’s work, then it will be a new saga - his. Not his grandfather’s any more.

Though a Palpatine, I believe Rey does have the potential for finding balance and unite the galaxy. If Ben, her dyad, comes back to do his part, the galaxy will be again under the rule of two powerful Force users the way it was when the OT begin; but this time they need a chance on something united and positive.

Balance At Last?

The authors repeatedly stated that the sequels would be “very much like the prequels”: not incidentally. The prequels also were the story of a usurpation, where at the end everything that was good seemed forgotten or turned into the hand of the wrong person.

This sheds an interesting light on the next trilogy: by this logic, it ought to mirror the original trilogy.

Whatever you can say about the Star Wars saga, it never repeated itself. It has recurring themes, which do not run in circles but in spirals; like in any family, or political system, the lessons not learned always demand their price.

All of this is not to say that I like this ending. The Rise of Skywalker mostly is so dissatisfying because being Episode IX it ought to have been a definite ending, but it does not feel like an end. It feels more like a new beginning, or an interruption of a story that was largely not yet explored. The new heroes have wrapped up the past, but what about the galaxy’s future? A future that has maybe already begun with the Mandalorian’s mysterious adopted Child, who symbolizes faith where Yoda was all about (avoiding) fear?

Rey and Baby Yoda both are two younger and more innocent versions of someone we are very familiar with; and they are both paired off with someone who becomes a redeemed version of a familiar villain - Rey with Kylo Ren / Ben Solo, who is reminiscent of Darth Vader, and the Child with the Mandalorian, reminiscent of Boba Fett. Also, the Child knows Force healing, the way Rey does.

It seems to me that this must be announcing a continuation that fits to it all and brings the loose strands together. If the Force is at work, then it knows what it’s doing.

Luke was always one to give people a second chance: in A New Hope, we see him befriend literally anyone who is willing to go along. Star Wars is all about getting another chance. Are we really supposed to believe that Ben Solo is gone forever, and worse, that he deserved no better than dying after sacrificing himself for the girl he loved? Did Luke Skywalker in person come to Crait, sacrificing his life in the process, to give his nephew a second chance only for him to disappear never to be seen again?

Ben and Rey being a dyad means that they mirror one another, in every way: what happened to one will happen to the other too, eventually. The iconic “You’re not alone” is so powerful because it comes from a person who knows damn well what loneliness means. If Rey finished what her grandfather started, then so must he. When the Republic fell everybody also believed Anakin to be dead; he wasn’t. and when Han left Luke and Leia towards the end of A New Hope, they did not count on him coming back; but he did.

The next trilogy is not yet announced but it has been known for years that it’s in the cards; thankfully it’s in the hands of Rian Johnson, who already proved that he can tell a masterful Star Wars story; and who reintroduced the subject of Balance again. I still hope that this image was a foreshadowing, not an empty promise.

The ST doesn’t really make sense - not yet. That doesn’t mean it won’t make sense when the rest of Rian’s story is told.

“Hope is like the sun… If you only believe in it when you see it, you will never make it through the night”. Let’s keep our hopes up, fellow Reylos and ST fans. 😉

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jaxsteamblog · 4 years

Text

Secrets

Click here to read the full fic on AO3

They didn’t stay out much longer than that, and they walked back to the beach house quietly. Zuko let Katara rinse at the outdoor shower first and she listened to him smack their shoes to clean off the sand. A futile effort, but one that had to be attempted.

While he rinsed, Katara found a pair of sandy beach towels in a box near the porch and took them over. Wrapping herself in one, she looked up at the sky. The stars were a little different here, or at least in slightly different positions.

Clutching the spare towel, Katara shivered slightly in the night air.

“Cold?” Zuko asked. She handed him the towel and pulled an unimpressed face as he dried his hair while steaming slightly.

Pulling water off her body would act like evaporation and just cool her more, so Katara stood still dripping. Firebenders just warmed themselves apparently.

“Yeah. I think I’m going to take a proper shower and go to bed.” She replied.

Zuko twisted up his towel and wrapped it around the back of his neck, holding onto the ends.

“Good night your Highness.” He said and smiled. Katara did pull the water from her body and tossed it in his face.

“Good night.” She retorted and walked off.

The shower in the house smelled faintly like brackish water, but it felt clean. Katara turned her face up into the warm spray and rinsed the ocean from her hair and skin. There was soap here already and smelled like an artificial ocean; fake salt water jelly soap and coconut shampoo. But as she bathed, she felt the small shells of tiny bivalves sticking to her arms and legs.

Wrapping herself in a clean, rough bath towel - whoever kept this house obviously didn’t believe in fabric softener - Katara moved from the bathroom and fell directly onto the bed. If she got two nights in a row of good sleep, it’d be a miracle.

When she woke up a ten hours later, still nearly in the same position, Katara wondered if she had slept or merely passed out. Her sheets were damp and the towel was uncomfortably caught under her body. With bending, she dried everything and unabashedly used the water to rinse her face free of sleep. Clapping her hands together, the water exploded into steam and she dressed as it dissipated.

Over breakfast, Suki announced that she wanted to go to the beach and they all started to pack up a basket to take down. Katara found the bottles of sunscreen, using her foot to fend off Suki who was reaching for the tanning oil while also yelling at her brother that their melanin wouldn’t save them from skin cancer.

Zuko packed lunches and they all somehow managed to dress and get down to the beach. With her bending, they all played a variation of king of the hill with everyone attempting to get to Katara to knock her over. Not one of them could get past her multitude of water limbs and she even picked Sokka up by his ankles and flung him off toward the reef.

They wound down after the initial burst of energy and Suki went snorkeling while Sokka stayed on the beach doing some sand sculpting. Zuko went looking for seashells and Katara floated in the calm water, feeling the sun warm her skin.

At lunch, Zuko announced that he had found some shellfish and, if they wanted, they could make a beach pit for dinner. Sokka readily agreed and worked with Zuko on digging the pit. Katara fulfilled her assumed role as her bending made it much easier to catch their dinner and grab seaweed to layer over the hot stones.

Suki engineered the layering while Zuko heated everything up. Then, while Sokka placed the electric thermometer and reburied everything, the rest of them went back up to the house to grab supplies.

A cooler was filled with ice and beer, while Katara grabbed plates and cutlery. They chatted as they moved around the kitchen, snagging butter and bread, arguing about what else they could need.

Back at the beach, Katara went swimming again while the others stayed by the pit and relaxed. Treading water, she looked at them all.

It was odd to have such a normal night with her secret out in the open. Zuko must not have said anything to her brother as Sokka hadn’t turned on his overbearing parent mode. And Zuko himself didn’t seem bothered by it.

Katara kept swimming until she saw Sokka and Suki walk up to the house. Darting back to the beach, Katara dried herself before sitting on the large blanket they had laid out under an umbrella that was quickly becoming unnecessary.

“Zuko, did you know Admiral Zhao?” Katara asked suddenly and Zuko looked at her in surprise.

“Zhao? Yeah, I did.” He said. Katara nodded and pulled her legs up, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin on her knees.

“I hated him, to be honest.” Zuko added and Katara lowered her face so her forehead pressed on her knees instead.

“You’re not just saying that?” She questioned.

“No, he was truly awful. My time in the war was,” Zuko made a sound as he thought of how to word his thoughts. “Questionable. He kept trying to out me as a traitor and I had to dodge him quite frequently.”

“Your uncle said your family fought for the exiled prince, so doesn’t that make you a traitor for real?” Katara asked, raising her head. Zuko looked pained and it confused her.

“My uncle, he,” Zuko’s voice was strained. “My family was not united during the war. I didn’t overtly fight for either side.”

“Your father supported the coup?” Katara asked incredulously. Zuko frowned and turned away from her.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He murmured.

Katara watched him for a moment, feeling a little sick. Then she turned away too, speaking softly as she did. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. It’s only because it makes me look bad.” Zuko replied, his voice low.

When he stood, Katara startled and unfurled herself, stretching out her legs and looking at him as he moved.

“Want a beer?” He asked, his back turned to her.

“Sure.” She said. He went to the cooler and opened it, making the ice shift as he grabbed two cans. He let the lid slam shut and walked back, handing Katara a can before sitting down. They both opened their drinks and Katara watched Zuko as he looked out at the ocean.

“This feels awful because you know, you could look up everything in a high school textbook. But you don’t, so it’s up to me to tell you and I really don’t want to.” Zuko said and took a drink.

“You want someone else to tell me your secrets.” Katara said.

Zuko scoffed bitterly. “It’s not a secret if it’s public knowledge Katara.”

“Then why don’t you just tell me?”

Zuko chugged his beer and gasped, examining the label.

“Because I kind of like this world where I’m not me.” He said and smiled at her. Katara weakly reflected back the smile, like the moon reflecting back the light of the sun.

Sokka and Suki came crashing back to their spot in a tangle of limbs and running mouths. Throwing Katara a shovel, they dug up the food while Suki and Zuko laid out the dishes and necessities. They ate most of the food with their fingers, scalding themselves and laughing at each other. They continued to drink, while Katara insisted that they try to stay hydrated. Ultimately, she imbibed too much and stopped keeping track.

After dinner was done and the trash collected, they debated the merits of staying out. Katara had gotten too much sun and decided to head back in. Zuko agreed, claiming he had gotten in his share of night swimming already. Suki and Sokka had started to cuddle up together and neither was intending on going anywhere.

So Katara and Zuko got up and headed toward the sand dunes. Feeling her head spin, Katara stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

“Stairs, my old nemesis.” She said, swaying on her feet.

“Allow me.” Zuko said and reached for her. Katara held out her arms, but Zuko ducked under them, grabbing her by the legs and heaving her over his shoulder. Before she could protest, Zuko started up the wooden stairs.

“You okay?” He asked as Katara bounced against him, his shoulder pressing into her stomach.

“Yeah. You have a nice butt.” She stated.

“Thanks, I worked hard on it and I’m pretty attached to it.” Zuko said and she giggled. He stopped at the top of the stairs and set her down. As her world tipped right side up, Katara staggered and Zuko held onto her hands to steady her.

“Your girlfriend is a lucky woman.” Katara said and Zuko chuckled.

“Sometimes I wish she felt that way. Because I’ll tell you a secret,” He replied, leaning in and shielding his mouth with his hand. “We’re not actually in love.”

Katara scoffed and pushed him away.

“She told me that already.” She said.

“Then it’s not much of a secret.” Zuko remarked.

Not having anything else to say, Katara turned on her heel and started marching back to the house. Zuko quickened his steps to catch up to her and then started to walk leisurely. Completely besotted, Katara found herself matching his pace.

“You should tell me a better secret since I told you mine.” She said suddenly. Zuko stuck his hands in his pockets and looked up at the sky.

“Hmmmm. Okay.” He stopped and Katara stopped. After a moment still staring at the sky, Zuko looked at her and smiled.

“What if I told you I’m a prince?” He said.

“Ha!” Katara brayed, just as Zuko’s face went white with terror.

“Wait. You’re serious?” She asked. Her stomach twisted and Katara could feel sour bubbles in her throat.

“You’re the prince of the Fire Nation?!” She shouted.

“Zuko, you idiot!” Sokka yelled back from the beach.

“I told you it was common knowledge!” Zuko exclaimed.

“But that means your father is the Fire Lord!”

“I am well aware of that, yes!”

“He’s not a great guy, Zuko!”

“I can’t really help being born, Katara!”

Katara abruptly sat down, holding her head in her hands.

“Spirits, I am so dumb.” She muttered.

Zuko crouched next to her, putting his hand on her upper back.

“To be honest, it is fairly impressive that you went this long without learning anything about the Fire Nation royal family.” He said and Katara groaned.

“You all were the bad guys and I was trying to ignore anything that had to do with my being Queen of the Water Tribe.” She said. Opening her hands, Katara stared down at the sandy patch of grass.

“We’re fine Suki.” Zuko called gently and Katara looked up. Suki cocked her head and Katara only nodded before covering her face again and groaning.

“I didn’t fight for my father Katara. I,” Zuko hesitated and Katara stayed quiet in her huddled form, breathing in her own hot air.

“You want to know a secret even your brother doesn’t know?” He asked.

“Please don’t tell me you were in charge of one of the prisons we burned down.” Katara grumbled.

“You, you burned down a prison?” Zuko sputtered.

“Multiple.” Katara corrected. “There were multiple prisons.”

“Well that answers a lot of questions my uncle had.” Zuko mumbled. He then patted Katara’s back. “No, it’s not about prisons.”

“What then?” Katara croaked.

“The reason why Zhao kept hounding me was because he thought I was the Blue Spirit.” Zuko said and Katara’s body went cold. “Have you heard of him?”

Oh spirits above and below. Katara thought. That is worse.

Katara popped her head up and stared directly at him. “Zuko, I think we already met before this summer.”

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#zutara #fanfiction #jax writes #modern au #zutara month 2020 #the fic that prompts built

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evakuality · 4 years

Note

Basorexia, Davenzi🌸

Dear anon, I’m sorry this has taken so long. Writing hasn’t been easy for me lately, but here it is finally. It’s not quite what I originally imagined when I got this prompt, and it’s quite a bit longer than I thought it would be, but I hope you enjoy it!

It happens more often than it probably should, the desire to just grab Matteo, haul him in and kiss him senseless. It’s something of a problem, if David is honest with himself. Not that he likes to be. Honest, that is. Because the deeply sensible part of him says that he should stay aloof, hold himself apart and stay the fuck away from this boy. But that part of him has always been a little bit of a helpless romantic, and it thrilled to whatever it sensed in Matteo and allowed the much more reckless part to emerge. The part that really does want to kiss Matteo, and doesn’t much care about the parts that have a degree of self preservation.

The first time it had happened, that urge to pull Matteo in and kiss him, David had been taken aback and it had made him tetchy and aloof. Matteo had invited him to smoke with him rather than going into the room where all the Abi prank planning was going on. His excuse had been terrible. Something about holding hands and “if you’re into that,” with a heavy suggestion that being ‘into that’ was not a good thing, and David had been captivated by the surety in his voice. Not to mention that this was the boy who’d knocked him off kilter just a few days earlier by doing nothing more than passing him in the hallway. David should have known then that he was playing a dangerous game. But no. He’d had to go and fall into those eyes and follow Matteo like the already-besotted little idiot he was.

And then … well, then Matteo had the plain audacity to show a vulnerable side. He’d leaned his head against the wall and sighed as he blew smoke out and shared some of the things that seemed to matter most to him. That’s when the damn feeling had swept over David, pummeling him over and over and around and around and he’d wanted. Wanted to touch, wanted to hold, wanted to kiss and kiss and kiss. So he’d pulled himself back, tried to push the overwhelming feelings away, but it hadn’t worked and he’d unfortunately ended up falling deeper and deeper into this thing he was feeling. Then she’d come along. Sara. And she’d kissed Matteo, just a small one, gentle and a little possessive. And David had been consumed with jealousy. Because he’d wanted that. He’d wanted to do the kissing.

That should have been the end of it. David should have known to stay the fuck away just like he’d already told himself. But he couldn’t. Matteo wouldn’t let him; Matteo had turned up in David’s orbit far too often for him to be able to listen to his rational side. And every time they met, that feeling had welled up again. The urge to kiss and kiss and never let go. In corridor after corridor. On a bus. At various points all over the school. And no matter how much David had told himself he should stay away, no matter how often he’d claimed that all he wanted was a couple of friendships that lasted just long enough to get him through the rest of the year. No matter how much any of that had intruded, David could never make himself do what he had to do when Matteo was there. Not even Sara. One of the people who’d first befriended him. He couldn’t do this to her, shouldn’t do this to her. And yet, every time David had seen Matteo those feelings would sweep in again and take him over and there he’d been again, a helpless mess, putty in the hands of someone who didn’t even really know the power he had.

There were parts of David that had tried to keep him on the right track, that had tried to make him use his damn brain when he was in the same space as Matteo. Parts of him that had told him he should just avoid him if this was going to keep happening. But that was never easy, not when Matteo would approach him with that open, wide eyed look on his face. Not when Matteo was making it obvious that whatever had started happening meant something to him. Not when Matteo had said things like, “I’m having a party” and it had been clear that when he said David could come if he wanted to, he’d really meant he wanted David to come. And David had never been able to deny him when he was right there in front of him. That had always been the curse of Matteo’s stupid vulnerable face and his fragility, of the way he’d looked when he’d opened to David and relaxed as they’d talked and made and ate revolting sandwiches. The way that had stuck in David’s mind and made him want even more than before.

So that all means he’s here, in Matteo’s own home, music thumping around him as he has his arm wrapped around Laura for support and his eyes are drifting towards Matteo more often than he ever really intends. In the middle of the party, Sara’s a messy drunk, bouncing from person to person with Leonie a grim, annoyed chaperone following her as she slops her way around the room. Matteo’s not near her, which makes very little sense to David when they’re supposedly together. He’s standing by the walls, looking awkward and ill at ease in his own home. And it takes all of David’s willpower to stay somewhere as far from Matteo as he can, to not go over and soothe that look off his face, because this isn’t the Matteo David remembers from a week ago and it feels wrong that he’s like this here.

Laura’s eyes are constantly on him, though, and her smile holds a hint of amusement as she watches David. It’s enough to enable him to keep his distance. Her knowing looks and pointed smirks are a small pinpoint in the evening, enough to ground David. Enough to keep him away from the one person he really wants to wrap himself up in, the person it’s becoming increasingly hard to stay away from because all David wants is to draw him into their own bubble again. The person he wants to drown in, to have the rights to kiss the way Sara had, small and quiet and possessive. The person he really should be resisting.

But then Laura goes to talk to Matteo and David can see the small confusion on his face as he looks at her, and he has to tear his eyes away in case she’s saying something embarrassing. Because he knows all the stupid things he’s poured out to her over the last couple of weeks, and he knows the sort of things she could be saying in her usual direct way. Not that she would, surely. Not to someone she doesn’t know, not even to embarrass her brother.

By the time David looks back, Matteo’s gone. Laura returns to his side, with just a small smirk and a, “he seems nice enough,” in response to David’s querying eyebrow. It’s infuriating. She’s infuriating. But worse is the loss of Matteo’s presence as the party winds its way to a close. Sara disappears, the guys David most often sees with Matteo yell some stuff through what must be his door, and then once they’re gone there’s no-one left. Just him and Laura and the guy who must be the flatmate.

Laura grins at David, saying she’s heading home now, and the flatmate offers to escort her down the stairs and point her in the direction of the right bus. They turn to David, but he can’t bring himself to leave. It’s stupid, the dumbest thing he could probably do, and yet he’s concerned. Matteo disappeared so quickly, and it disrupted all David’s plans for the evening, the things he wanted and the things he might have been able to convince himself to do. So he mutters something about wanting to tidy up, references the mess he’d left last time, and gets a very considering look from the flatmate. They both shrug, though, and he’s left alone in the kitchen, choosing to deal with whatever is going on in here rather than thinking about the much bigger mess that is the rest of the space. Besides, this keeps him out of Matteo’s way and as much as David wants to make something happen, wants to dive into the kiss he’s been thinking about for the last few weeks, he’s also still got a small amount of self preservation left, and that keeps him here safely away from the temptation of Matteo’s door.

He’s not sure what he’s even doing here. Matteo isn’t likely to emerge, the boys made that obvious when they left, and David wonders why the hell he’s doing this to himself. Why he’s letting the desire that swamps him have control of his actions like this. It’s the vulnerability, he thinks viciously as he shakes the leftover beer out of a couple of bottles. It’s the part of Matteo that calls to the same part of David, the one that won’t let him off the hook. It’s crept in under his skin and every time he sees it he can’t help but want to soothe it away. Kiss it away. Basorexia, he thinks to himself irrelevantly, dragging a dim recognition of the word’s meaning out of his memory. The overwhelming desire to kiss. The thing that’s getting him into trouble in this time when he was supposed to be keeping himself aloof and distanced.

There’s a soft rustle in the doorway and David turns to see Matteo standing there. And it’s there again, the vulnerability and the fragility. He seems surprised to see David there, but even as obviously tired as confused as he is Matteo still does something to David. He makes something twist uneasily in his stomach, he makes him want again. The urge to kiss is rising, swamping every sensible thought in David’s head. He gets through some small banal small talk, and then Matteo is right there next to him.

In the dim light his hair shines and the stripes on his cheeks add something to the overall impression, they soften the planes of his face, make him look younger, less sure of himself even than he has done recently. And there’s something in his eyes, something soft and lonely. Something that calls to the same lonely thing in David. And even though he knows this is stupid, even though he berates himself even while he does it, even though he’s sure this is the stupidest, scariest thing he ever could imagine … David thinks fuck it. He wants to kiss, he wants to know what it’s like, he wants to stop pushing it down as if it’s something to be ashamed of. So he lets the feelings out finally, lets it all show on his face when he turns to Matteo and says a few words. A few words that tip him over into everything he’s feeling, a few words that let him want for real. A few words that finally allow him to admit the building up of the desire to kiss and kiss and never let go.

“You look good today.”

#druck #og druck #my fic stuff #my ask stuff #my prompt stuff #Anonymous

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justlightlysedated · 4 years

Text

another band au:

Michael gets to Liz’s five minutes before the party is officially supposed to start, and Rosa is walking out of the apartment building, holding the door open with her foot when she spots Michael so that he doesn’t have to be buzzed in.

“Aren’t you late?” He asks, looking down at his watch.

She rolls her eyes at him, and pushes away from the door making him have to scramble forward to stop it from closing.

“We don’t play until the basement is full,” she says. “Liz is still getting ready.”

There is a loud beeping sound, and when Michael turns it’s to see a blonde hanging out of the passenger window of a van.”¡Ándale, Rosita! We don’t want to keep our fans waiting!”

Rosa rolls her eyes again while she bounds down the steps not paying attention to Michael anymore.

“Llamame Rosita otra vez y te voy a arrancar la lengua de la boca,” she says with a smile, sounding extremely sweet while she drags the side of the van open and gets inside.

The blond who has to be either Cameron or Alex, the members of the band that Rosa joined a few months ago, who he knows Liz hasn’t even met yet, like Rosa is keeping them and the band a secret, just flutters her eyelashes in exaggeration. “Oh I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

Rosa slides the door shut, and the van is squealing away before the blonde can even get back in her seat properly.

Michael just shakes his head and walks into the apartment building, heading up the three flights of stairs that will lead him down the hall to Liz’s place.

The door is propped open when he gets there, and he can hear the sounds of salsa coming from the kitchen, and Mr. O’s singing as he moves around.

He walks in without announcing his presence, and Mr. O waves at him from the stove as he makes his way through the living room and down the hall to the room that Liz shares with Rosa.

He doesn’t knock as he enters the room to find Liz lying flat on the bed, trying to button her skinny jeans.

He kicks the door closed and grabs the guitar propped against the desk, before he sits down on the rickety computer chair that rolls back with his weight, hitting the desk.

He settles the guitar on his lap, and is about to tune it when Liz jumps to her feet, bouncing in place a little to stretch the pants out.

“I hate it when Papi washes my jeans,” she says, turning to face him, and then making a low noise.

“Oh no,” she says, and Michael looks up at her to see that she’s eyeing his outfit.

“What?” he asks, feeling a little self conscious.

It’s not like the fact that he’s a foster kid, who aged out in the system, and is right now living in a cheap rundown apartment on the bad side of town, is a big secret. Liz has known him since they were both in preschool. She was there when he lost his mom, and it was because of her and the Ortechos being his emotional support system that the state department decided to put him in homes that were always close by.

He’d worn his best pants, the ones without any holes in them, that were still slightly worn in the knees and the hem and a faded blue plaid shirt over one of his plain white undershirts.

“We’re going to a party Mikey, not the mall!”

Michael makes a face at that. “I’m not going to dress up like Rosa.”

Liz rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to look like Rosa. You just have to dress like you actually go to shows. And right now you look, wholesome and nice.”

Michael makes another face at that.

He lets Liz bully him into her closet, and then lets her bully him out of his clothes and into a pair of skinny jeans that don't clear his ankles since he fits in her jeans since his ass isn't as big as hers, but Liz is the shortest person that he knows. She throws a pair of boots at him, and a tight black shirt, and just rolls her eyes, when he pulls the blue plaid shirt over it.

"Now," she says and turns around holding a brush and a straightener like a weapon. "Your hair."

"No fucking way," Michael says, moving backwards towards the door. "We don't have the time. And anyway, I'd rather die first."

Michael raises a hand to his hair, and pushes the curls falling over his forehead back, only for them to fall back into place.

If Michael's apartment caught fire (which seems likely to happen on a good day) there were two things that he would take with him when he went, his laptop and the bag where he keeps all the products he uses to keep his hair shiny and bouncy and soft.

"One day," she says, brandishing the straightener threateningly.

"When hell freezes over," he replies.

She's been trying to get him to straighten his hair since she bought the thing since Rosa won't let her play guinea pig, and Michael would do a lot of things for love, but he won't do that.

"Fine," she says, pouting. "How about some eyeliner?"

She turns to her dresser to put the brush and straightener down, and Michael is about to tell her that he doesn't think he trusts her with any pointy object in the near vicinity of his eyes when her phone rings.

Michael grabs it from the desk to see Rosa's name on the display.

He answers, and she doesn't even let him say hello before she's speaking.

"I need a favor," she says, in a rush, sounding a little nervous. "I left my lucky necklace in the bathroom and I need it."

Michael doesn't tease her like he wants to because this is her first show, and he's terrified of speaking in front of his class, he can't imagine how he would feel if he was in her place.

“We got it,” he tells her, and Rosa breathes out in relief.

“Ándale entonces,” she says, sounding like herself again. “The basement is almost full. There might be no space for you.”

Michael rolls his eyes and hangs up the phone.

“Rosa left a necklace in the bathroom that she needs, and we definitely don’t have time for that,” he says, signaling towards the eyeliner with the phone.

Liz just rolls her eyes and reaches for her phone before turning back towards her dresser and dropping the eyeliner.

“Fine,” she says and sighs all over-exaggerated. “I was just trying to help you.”

Michael furrows his brow, “Help me with what?”

Liz gives him a look, “You’ve been moping for weeks, and a little birdie told me that She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is going to be there, so I was thinking that you need to look super hot so she knows exactly what she’s missing out on.”

“I broke up with her, remember?” Michael says, but Liz is walking out of the room, not listening as she keeps talking.

“And if you happened to get laid as a result then, that’s an added bonus. You’ve been really tense.”

“I have not,” Michael protests following after Liz as she ducks into the bathroom.

“You really have, mi’jo,” Mr. O says in passing as he walks down the hall to his room.

Michael tries not to get too embarrassed about the fact that Mr. O knows too much about his sex life thanks to Elizabeth “I tell my Papi everything” Ortecho.

Liz pushes him backwards before he can walk into the bathroom, stuffing the necklace into the back pocket of her jeans.

--they go to the party and michael forgets all about the fact that his ex might be there when he sees the lead singer of the band rosa is in, which is called, project shepherd

--they’re introduced to each other and he becomes obsessed, and can’t stop thinking about him

--the next friday while waiting for Liz at the bus stop so they can walk to his place and study, he sees alex walking into the record store, he barely hesitates to stalk after him, and figures out that alex works there and he buys a CD as an excuse and asks Alex if he would give him some pointers on the guitar, and Alex seems confused with the attention, but he tells Michael that he would love to help him with the guitar, and he only leaves when Liz calls him to ask him where he is

--there is another party, but he sees alex completely seemingly besotted with the singer of this other punk band, and he thinks that they’re dating, and when he asks rosa about the guy, she tells him that he’s Alex’s BF

--he goes upstairs to avoid the party, since he doesn’t really party, and he doesn’t know whose house it is, but he sneaks into a room where no one is having sex, and sits down right by the bed on the scratchy carpet with a sketchpad and a pencil, drawing

--Alex appears and they talk about his drawing, Michael wants to mention the boyfriend, but Alex takes out a joint from his pocket and they smoke, and end up making out until Cameron finds them, she doesn’t look surprised, so Michael assumes that Alex probably makes out with other guys behind his boyfriend’s back all the time, and it leaves him feeling weird

--Michael tries to avoid him, but Alex is suddenly everywhere, and even shows up at Michael’s apartment, and every time, Michael tries to resist him, and Alex manages to catch him off guard, he realizes that he’s in love with him, so he goes off and gets drunk, and ends up having drunk sex with his ex that turns into a whole thing where she keeps calling him and won’t leave him alone

--at the next party, she’s there, and kisses him right in front of Alex, who gets upset and leaves the party, Michael goes after him and they argue, and when Michael throws Forrest in his face, Alex asks him if he really thinks that he’s the type of person who would go around kissing someone behind his boyfriend’s back, and Michael says that he wouldn’t know, since they don’t really know each other, and Alex says and now they never will and leaves him feeling confused

--Michael talks to Rosa who calls him an idiot and says that by BF she meant best friend. “Why didn’t you just say that?” “Why didn’t you just ask for clarification?”

--Michael tries to make it up to Alex, but Alex refuses to even talk to him and even ignores him completely to go off with some other punk guy who looks like he’s the perfect person for Alex, Forrest is the one who tells him that even though Alex is all shy and shit, he would go completely nuts over something over the top

--Michael decides to sing a song for Alex, he even tries to get his hair dyed and straightened and look more like the kind of person that Alex would like, but it comes out bad so he just ends up with a hat on his head and his guitar in his hands and he gives a speech apologizing and Alex is there, but by the time Michael finishes the song, he’s gone

--the next morning, there is a knock on his door and it’s Alex, they talk and when Alex asks him about the bandana tied around his head, Michael shows him, and Alex just drags him to the bathroom and into the shower fully clothed, and washes his hair, the dye running down his arms, and tells Michael that he likes him for him, and they kiss in the shower with the water running down their faces

--ends with another party, Alex announces the last song saying his awesome boyfriend wrote it for him, Michael’s smile can be seen from space

#malexunfinishedfics #another fic for christi #all of my band aus are automatically for christi tbh

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