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jubilantwriter · 3 years

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A Little Bit of Sweetness in a Bitter World

(They Got the Year Wrong, 2012 was Actually Supposed to be 2020) (AO3)

Summary: It’s been the end of the world, so to speak, and time is meaningless, but actions mean everything. And every action they take must be taken towards their survival.

...So to speak.

But even when surviving in a post-apocalyptic world, they’re allowed to indulge in a little bit of sweetness, right? David thinks so, at the very least.

Word Count: 4919

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"You think calendars are still a hot commodity in this day and age?" Jasper tosses over a damp, wrinkly mess of paper that looks to be the remains of a calendar. David catches it easily and flips through the pages. The year proudly states "2021", likely made in the last year before the natural disasters struck all at once. Each page displays a different picture of nature, with scenes varying from mountains to the ocean to forest and even to jungles. It's almost ironic, he thinks, these images of peace and tranquility.

"Probably not. I don't remember the last time I kept track of the days." He remembers days where he would eagerly mark off each day, always happy to welcome the next with a smile. Each date was important. Each day was worth remembering. Now, he's just happy to wake up and still find Jasper laying next to him.

But those are only on the good days.

"I was thinking..." Jasper trails off, wandering the shelves of the long abandoned store. "You think we missed out on a bunch of holidays?"

"Probably." David lets out a hum as he places the calendar down on an empty shelf and examines the remaining oddities left behind by scavengers. "It's been cold for a while, so we probably missed Christmas."

"And New Years. Davey, look!" Jasper grabs his attention to hold up a chipped mug. Between the spaces of the empty shelves, David can't help the chuckle that escapes him when he reads the words. "Coffee Helps Me Poop." The brunet sighs languidly as he looks over the mug with a look of nostalgia. "God, I miss coffee."

"Maybe we'll find a bag of beans somewhere in one of those houses." Though they both know his words are more of an empty comfort than ones of hope. Still, Jasper brightens at the idea of it, and it's enough to make David smile.

"Yeah, maybe. Oh, but I could make due with leftover grinds."

"Gross."

"Hey man, beggars can't be choosers, and we can always just give them a good wash in the river!"

"No!" Despite his protests, David laughs anyways. "I'm sure we can find a bag of something for you. I think we can try that um, dandelion coffee?"

"Gross." This time Jasper's the one pulling a face. "That stuff's made of dandelion roots! Fucking gnarly as hell, man."

"Beggars can't be choosers," he teases lightly. "And anyways, dandelions are everywhere! I'm sure we can roast some roots and make something good."

"If you make it for me, I guess I have no choice." Jasper sighs dramatically as he puts the mug down. With a giggle, David leaves his spot by the empty shelves and rejoins him. Jasper leans over to kiss his cheek, lips pressing gently over now familiar scars. A warm smile crosses his features as he cups Jasper's cheek.

"So I guess this place was no good either, huh?"

"Nah." Jasper shrugs and leans into David's touch. "But it's not like we're surprised."

Which is true. The two of them happened upon this empty town much like someone else before them. The houses were already looted, stores emptied, and bodies either half buried or left to rot. They'd taken care of the few that were left forgotten, placing plucked dandelions on the makeshift mounds in remembrance. David always found it sad how there were so many bodies still left over from the disasters. So many lives, so many stories left to rot in the open air as survivors walked over them without a second thought.

He remembers the early days, when he and Jasper had no choice but to loot the bodies as well. It was sickening, but they had to survive. He remembers when they walked over bodies, leaving them to rot in the open air, never daring to spare another glance in fear of getting sick.

Now they never get sick. The sight of bodies no longer made them terrified of their own mortality, but rather, they now placed it upon themselves to treat these lost lives with more respect as they continue to tread this ground alone and alive together. It's the least they can do.

"Hey, man." Jasper's soft voice breaks his thoughts, and David blinks back to the present. "Let's say we try a few more places before bouncing, yeah?"

"...Yeah." David pulls his hand away just to take Jasper's instead. "Sounds like a good plan."

The two of them leave the store and walk down the strip. Broken windows and doors hanging from a hinge are passed by with an ease they've grown accustomed to, allowing a lingering glance to see what the stores used to promise to sell. Clothes, shoes, things that would have been useful had they stumbled upon this strip mall months in advance. Now all that remain are empty shelves and splashes of blood that neither want to entertain wondering about. They continue past more empty stores, still glancing inside in hopes of finding something accidentally left behind. Instead, they stumble upon a novelty store, similar to the one that used to house calendars. Jasper jabs his thumb at it.

"Wanna give it a shot?"

"Sure."

They're not sure what they're looking for in a novelty store. The knick knacks they once sold are either broken or long gone. David lets go of Jasper's hand to continue perusing the shelves. A few toys are scattered here and there in pieces, perhaps stepped on in a mad rush to find things of use, otherwise ignored in pursuit of other items. There was probably someone out there who would have liked these toys.

...And maybe, not anymore. He leans down and picks up a dirtied plushie. Turning it back and forth in his hands, the thought of children enters his mind, and he quietly stores it into his backpack. They've come across a child or two in their journeys. It was always surprising, stumbling across a kid on their lonesome. They'd always try and offer help, but the children are always much more suspicious of them than they are of the children.

It makes sense, doesn't it?

The children always ran away before they could do anything to help. He would always want to chase after them but...

He shakes his head. That would just scare them away, he knows this. They've come across settlements where kids still live with their parents in a promised safety, only to have to watch as it goes up in flames (it always goes up in flames, fitting that it's something man made that manages to extinguish the rest of them instead of nature itself) as they either perished or ran off, never to be seen again.

He knows a kid will never accept this gift from him. He knows it's a stupid thought.

But.

He'll keep it. Just in case.

He's sure the dead ones would prefer a plushie over a dandelion anyways.

"Found anything?" He turns at Jasper's voice, a tired smile on his face.

"Not really. Just this stuffed toy."

"Ah." Jasper doesn't question him, instead bending down and picking up a little car. "Always liked these little dudes."

"I remember you collected them when they were popular." David watches as he rolls the wheels against his palm, letting it run in the air before turning it this way and that.

"Hot Wheels will always be popular in my heart." Jasper's smile turns lighthearted as he pockets it. David doesn't question it. "I saw a door to the backroom earlier. Tried opening it, but it was locked up good." He pauses for a moment before giving David a look. "Real good."

David's heart jumps at the implications, as well as sinks. There's no telling what they will find behind a locked door. "We'll just have to be careful."

"Right." Jasper reaches behind him and pulls out his trusty pipe. "I'll kick it down."

"Okay." David reaches inside his jacket to pull out his knife. "I'll keep you covered."

Jasper simply nods as they walk towards the back room's door. The brunet lifts his leg up and positions it right by the doorknob. A quick nod to David is followed up with a powerful kick and a curse. The door remains intact and unbudged with only a boot print to show Jasper’s efforts.

Of course.

"It's metal." Jasper grumbles as he hops around on his good foot.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, don't sweat it." With a final hop, he settles down and jostles the handle. Locked. "No wonder it's untouched. No one's been able to open it. Unless..." Jasper turns to David with a playful smirk.

"...Unless?"

"Unless we lockpick it open."

"Jasp." David sighs as he crosses his arms. "For the last time, we don't know how to do that."

"C'mooon!" He looks towards David with big, round, pleading eyes. David turns away to avoid his stare. "I know you know how. You were a rebel as a kid! You got into places no one else could!"

"But that was ages ago!"

"Maybe it's still floatin' around in there!" Jasper creeps closer to David and nudges him. "C'mon, please? At least try? For wittle ol' me?"

Only a few seconds pass before David lets out a defeated groan. "...Fine! But I'd need something to try and unlock it.”

"Jammin'. What kinda stuff do you need?"

"Paperclips. Just two." David kneels down closer to the door to look at the lock. There's some damage around the keyhole area, but it shouldn't be a problem for him. "Um, I don't know if there's any stores around here that have some but-"

"Don't sweat it. I'll go sniff some out for ya." Jasper's gone in that instant, and that just leaves David alone with this lock and his thoughts. What could be in there, he wonders? Supplies? He looks around the store with its toys and novelty items. Maybe not. Probably just products or cleaning supplies.

Maybe a body.

The thought dampens his mood a bit. But if there truly is a body in there, then it wouldn't hurt for him and Jasper to take it out and lay it to rest. Just like the other bodies they've come across. They've been lucky thus far to never have encountered anyone familiar.

But then again...

It wasn't like they originally came from the West Coast. Both their homes actually lie somewhere in the East, and now that they were still slowly making their way across the States, it'd only be a matter of time before they start recognizing familiar faces. The thought of it makes his heart sink.

"Found some!" Jasper pops right over to interrupt his thoughts, and David smiles in relief as his boyfriend kneels down besides him. If it weren't for Jasper, who knows how many times he'd be lost to his thoughts like this?

"Thanks."

"Anytime, doll." He presses another kiss to David's cheek as David giggles. "So how's this work?"

"Well..." He takes a paperclip and straightens the whole thing out. Once it's straight, he bends the pliable metal in half until both sides are flush against the other. From where the paperclip is bent in half, he takes the end of it and carefully bends it at a right angle. He then takes the loose ends of the paperclip and twists them together, keeping it whole and stable. The little L shape he makes out of it is presented to Jasper. "This is what I'm going to put at the bottom of the lock, right here." He puts the L shaped paperclip at the bottom of the lock, leaving it hanging as he starts working on the next paperclip. "This one is gonna be tricky, since it's got smaller uh, details to it."

"Maybe we can try bending it against a shelf or something?"

"Mm, something thinner."

"Hmm." Jasper looks around before his eyes brighten as he picks up David's discarded knife. "How's this for thinner?"

"My hero," he teases lightly, kissing Jasper's cheek in thanks. He takes the next paperclip and only unbends it twice. Taking the edge of his knife, he carefully bends the very end of it into a W-like shape. He runs his finger over the shape of it, the W no longer than the tip of his finger. "This is what I'm gonna use to try and get the lock to unlock."

"Very descriptive." Jasper nods along as David sets to work with his improvised tools.

He pushes the W tool in above the L as he holds the bottom tool down, and starts to wiggle the W up and down, jostling it every once in a while until he hears the familiar click. He turns both tools at the same time successfully and turns to Jasper with a big grin.

"Still got it."

"I knew you did!" Jasper whoops as he pulls David into a hug. "I love you so much, my lock picking little nerd!"

"Jasp!" David laughs as Jasper starts rubbing their cheeks together. "You know I wasn't a nerd when I learned how to do this."

"Fine." The brunet rolls his eyes as he hugs David tighter. "My little bad boy."

"And I'm taller."

"My BIG bad boy."

"Thank you," he says sweetly, rubbing their noses together. "I do like the sound of that."

"Anything for you, babe." Jasper chuckles as they both turn their attention back to the unlocked door. "What do you think is behind there?"

"Dunno." He parts from Jasper a bit unwillingly to pocket the tools and pick up his knife. "But only one way to find out, right?"

"Right." Jasper takes out his pipe once more and holds it at the ready, his other hand on the handle as David stands prepared by his side. "1, 2..."

Three never gets spoken out loud as Jasper slams the door open, barreling in with his pipe raised high above him. What greets them is...

No one.

"Damn, did all that for nothing, huh?" He puts his pipe back into its little spot as David keeps his knife out.

"Better it be nothing than someone with a working gun, dear."

"True that." Jasper takes a gander around the room, noting the modestly sized storage room and the shelving unit that works almost as a divide. He jabs his thumb at the other side of the unit. "I'll take that half of the room."

"Then I'll take this half." They nod towards each other and start their search.

It's been a while since David's seen full shelves of anything. Or, well, more occupied shelves. There are boxes scattered here and there, mostly of the same things that linger outside still. He takes a few more stuffed animals, storing them in his pack for a later burial. As he searches through another box, he blinks at his odd little discovery. Digging out from under the rest of the merchandise, he chuckles to himself as he holds up a little gimmicky keychain.

A little heart-shaped character is holding a card that reads, "My heart belongs to you!" in cheesy cursive. The strap looks like the usual beady sort that can easily snap off. David digs around some more, hoping to find others. Jasper used to love these things when they were kids, opting to spend quarters trying to get quirky little keychains of popular cartoon characters rather than something sensible, like a gumball or candy. David quickly finds another one wrapped in plastic packaging and swiftly removes it. This one is apple shaped, but the face and posture are exactly the same. The words for this one read instead, "You're the apple of my eye!" in the same cheesy cursive. He's about to search for more when he hears an excited gasp coming from Jasper.

"What did you find?"

"No-don't-come-over-here!" Normally, words like that coming from Jasper would alarm him, but he could recognize that giddy tone anywhere.

"You sure?"

"Yes!"

David smiles as he pockets the matching keychains. "Alright. Call out if you need me for anything."

"You got it, dudeski."

David returns to searching through more boxes and finds nothing particularly useful in any of them. There's some loose paper clips that he finds however, and he decides that taking those won't be such a bad idea. He looks around the shelves and finds a screwdriver lying forgotten on one of the shelves. He takes that as well, noting the shape of the head.

Flat.

He never could find one of these back in the day. They were surprisingly easy to misplace when he really needed one.

More searching yields less results, although he does find something even more delightful than the matching keychains. After a bit of fiddling, he quickly stuffs it into his pack before Jasper can even notice and takes a quick lookover his half of the room.

All the boxes have been searched, and nothing of use was left behind. He's tempted to peek his head over to Jasper's side, but he knows better than to spoil a surprise that Jasper has planned. Instead, he calls out, "You finished yet?"

"Yeah, just about." There's some grunting and thumping as Jasper puts something aside. "Couldn't find anything useful except for some rubber bands. And- oh!" There's some more scuffling as Jasper makes a pleased sound. "Holy shit, dude- come over here!"

David makes his way over and finds Jasper holding up a white box with a red plus sign on it. Quickly, he rushes over and holds it as well. "...No way."

"I'm gonna open it." Jasper grins as he undoes the clasps. "It's been a goddamn while since we came across one of these guys!"

"In pristine condition too," David mumbles as the top pops off. Inside are bunches of unused band-aids, gauze, alcohol wipes, little packets of various ointments, painkillers-

"Jackpot! Literally the jackpot!" They set the first-aid kit down gently as they go through the supplies. "There's even some peroxide in here, holy shit-"

"These pills haven't expired yet either."

"All good things come in first-aid kits." They carefully pack everything back up into the kit and store it in Jasper's pack. "We can sort things out once we get back to the campsite."

"Agreed." They both stand up and take another gander around the room. Though the back room didn't hold much, it did hold a few things they could make use of. Jasper flashes David a smile and holds out his hand.

"Ready to boogie?"

David laughs as he takes Jasper's hand. "I couldn't have phrased it better myself."

The two of them exit the store, shielding their eyes as the sun reflects off the melting snow around them. Jasper sighs as they look around the abandoned strip mall once more.

"Sucks none of them had any food."

"I'm not really surprised. But there were a couple of granola bars."

Jasper flinches. "Yeah, but the Nature Valley kind. I bet those fuckers got left behind for a reason, Davey."

David flashes him an innocent grin. "Beggars can't be choosers!"

"And soon we'll be beggars without any working teeth. And not a dentist in sight!"

"We'll be fine. You ate a bathtub twinkie before."

"Yeah, but at least it was soft." They begin to walk off the path, snow crunching under their boots as they walk across the roads littered with abandoned cars. Some look broken into, others burnt from explosions or fires that could have resulted right at the start of the panic, or perhaps even after. A breeze brushes past them, taking a loose flyer along with it. They cross more roads and streets, ignoring the stretch of houses that loom in the distance before them and opting for the bordering forest instead. A familiar clearing opens up to them as they look around carefully to make sure no one else has stumbled across it. David looks about for tracks that aren't their own in the snow.

Nothing.

Jasper makes a noise to indicate that they're both safe, and together, they start setting up their camp. An old tent is pitched carefully, now so thoroughly used and battered that David fears he may need to find or scavenge a replacement somewhere. Jasper goes about gathering what branches and kindling he can. "Hey Davey," he calls out, out of sight but still a quick jog away. "You think I can punch this tree to pieces for firewood?"

"We've had this discussion so many times before- no. And you've already tried doing that, remember?"

"Bummer." Still, David waits and hears the familiar sound of a thump and a resounding, "Ow!" before shaking his head and getting the campfire set up for Jasper. By the time Jasper returns to the site, David's already begun going though his pack and taking out what little food they have. He picks up a can of beans and sighs. It would be nice if they could stumble upon some wild vegetables right about now, but alas, maybe it was still too early to hope for such miracles. Well, they can share this can of beans for dinner tonight. Maybe they'll have better luck finding more food tomorrow.

"Guess who bears gifts of warmth!" For now, however, worrying over their food rations can wait. David smiles up at his boyfriend and watches as he dumps his whole collection of wood onto the makeshift campfire.

"You do!"

"Damn straight." Jasper plops down next to him and starts rearranging the wood to a more suitable placement, taking out their old flint and broken knife to get the fire going. They sit in silence as the sparks catch on the driest wood that Jasper could find, and as they warm up, Jasper makes a thoughtful hum. "Wonder what today is."

"A cold day," David answers, huddling closer to Jasper as the brunet chuckles. Jasper wraps an arm around him and draws the ginger in close.

"Nah, I meant date wise."

"The calendar got you thinking?" Flashes of those peaceful, serene shots of nature echo in his mind, and David wonders how many of those places are still intact. Are still as serene as they once were before.

The woods are as quiet as they've ever been for the past months or so. He closes his eyes, remembering the nights in which he could hear the crickets singing their songs, when there were things to worry about in the woods, when he could go to bed and hear the call of the coyotes, when there was life in all the houses, and the most he had to worry about was what he needed to prepare for dinner the next day.

"A little bit." Jasper leans against him, no doubt lost in his own head as well. "I was just thinking, y'know, if time is meaningless and so are dates then technically... any day can be a holiday."

"What are you saying?"

Instead of an answer, Jasper leans over to his pack and starts digging through it. He grins as he finds what he's looking for, and pulls out an old box of chocolates. "Tadaaaah!"

"...How old are these?"

"Dunno, dude." Jasper drops the chocolates on his lap before pulling out a card or three. The first one features an old fisherman comedically fishing up a big, red heart, with the words on it reading, "You're quite the catch, Valentine!" With a soft smile, David opens the card to find the inner message reading, "As the kids would say, you're off the hook!" David laughs as he reads those words. The next two cards read just as cheesy, he finds.

A card with a puppy dog with huge eyes stares at him with a message reading, "Cute puppies aren't the only things melting hearts this year..." Opening it, he finds a message that reads, "The icebergs are melting too! Oh, and you melt my heart as well, Valentine :)" He can't help but sigh at that message. Oddly on point, that one.

The last card is more beautifully crafted, with roses adorning the page and a cursive font decorating the front of it. "Dozens of roses cannot compare to the beauty of our love." David opens it up to find two messages written in, one typed in the same font as the cover, and one scrawled in haphazardly with what looks to be a pen that gave out more than once. The card’s message reads: "Here's to another year with you, my dear love."

His eyes drift down to the handwritten one, a handwriting so familiar to him that he’s surprised how little he’s seen of it lately. "Heya Davey,” it starts out, “I know these past months or so have been super wack, but I'm grateful that you've been here with me this entire time. I don't know what the future holds for us or the world, but as long as I'm with you, I think I can bite through whatever curveballs the world throws at us. Thanks for always being off the heezy and super fly. With all my love, Jasper."

David wipes a tear away before turning to give Jasper a kiss. They melt into each other, arms wrapped tight as though the fear of a breeze tearing them apart is more life-threatening than the danger they walk through every day. Pulling apart is difficult when all David wants to do is kiss Jasper again and feel him against him. But then, he'd never get to see those blue eyes stare at him lovingly, now would he?

"Happy Valentine's Day, Davey." Jasper speaks softly as he gently brushes David's tears away with a smile. "I know it ain't much but, it was all I could find in that store."

"No, Jasp, this is all- this is wonderful. I love all of this." David hugs the cards to his chest and laughs, before remembering his own gifts. "Oh! Hold on a minute." David pulls out the two keychains and hands them to Jasper. "They aren't much, but they were all I could find in those boxes."

"Aww, Davey!" Jasper takes them both and holds them up against the backlight of the setting sun. "Wouldja look at that - they're matching!"

"Yeah," he responds shyly, kicking at the earth under their feet. "I-I figured I'd let you choose which one you like the most, and then I can take the other one, and then it's like, even if we're apart for a little bit, we'll still have something that'll keep us together, even if it's spiritually?"

Jasper turns his attention to David, a bright smile on his face as he cups David's cheek with his free hand. "You big goof, nothing's gonna be able to keep us apart at this rate, huh?"

"You're right- oh! Before I forget." David giggles and digs through his bag one last time. He pulls out a stuffed animal- or rather, a stuffed Pokemon. To find one of these little guys hiding in the backroom, surely, an employee had meant to keep it for themselves as a gift for their own significant other. He hopes they didn't mind that he took the cute little Pikachu and added an embellishment of his own. With the same shyness from before, David presents the plush to Jasper, watching his eyes light up when he catches sight of the fake rose that David had haphazardly affixed to its paw with a stray rubber band he'd found lying around.

"No. Way." Jasper takes it from his hands and looks it over. "...Davey!"

"I found it while we were looking for supplies." He scratches the back of his head, no doubt the blush already forming on his cheeks is getting redder as Jasper stares at him with his big, round eyes tearing up like that. "And I know how much you still love Pokemon to this day, so I thought maybe you'd like this too? A-and I figured I'd make it, you know! A little more personal with the um, with that rose I found." Technically, he'd torn it off a different stuffed animal, but Jasper didn't need to know that.

"I love it," Jasper whispers, already cuddling it close to his chest. "Fuck, I love you so much, Davey."

"I love you too, Jasp."

Jasper quickly plants another kiss on David, pulling a part just for a moment to press another, more lingering one on his lips. By the time the two of them part again, they sit together breathless, a warmth spreading from their chest as they cuddle close together.

“Hey,” Jasper speaks softly, taking the chocolates in one hand while keeping his arm wrapped around his little stuffed toy. “Let’s say we eat this for dinner instead? I don’t think chocolate can go bad that quickly.”

There’s nutrition to take into account in a survival situation, David thinks. But his fingers move anyways, tugging the plastic cling wrap off as they open the little box of delights open. They can worry about nutrition later. It’s not like they were looking forward to another night of beans anyways.

It’s an indulgence, but one they so rightly deserve.

For that moment, the two of them simply bask in the light of their love, happily going over their gifts and idly talking to each other over the light of the campfire. Even if it was for a moment, for once, the woods felt alive again with the noise of the chatter.

And in that moment, it felt as though everything was alright in the world.

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drawingdullahan · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1

Jacob Collins now finds himself in the town of Hunter’s Creek, searching for the perfect material for his current novel. What he doesnt expect to find is a boy the town calls an enthusiast of the macabre.

There are no frightening scenes in this chapter, its actually just a small bit of mundane things. Jacob just has a inconveniently bad morning.

To say that Jacob had a pleasant morning was… a bit of a strong word. Decent could work, though he felt that drab fit it all quite a bit more. The bed had been very stiff as if it was old enough to have been worn down to the creaking springs that supported it, breakfast had been a no go after hearing some shouting from the inn’s kitchen, and Jacob had fumbled with his clothes this morning, walking out in a mismatched outfit before having to turn around and head straight back in to fix it. He silently hoped none of the staff had witnessed that.

The coffee shop, as it were, was only a few stores down from the inn that he had rested at. Which was lucky for him since currently he was barely functioning thanks to the aforementioned inn room stay. Hopefully they would have breakfast as well.

When he stopped, I front of the door it seemed that they had only been open for a few minutes, which was odd considering it was already almost nine. Jacob stepped in and immediately the aroma of breakfast and coffee flooded his nose. He took a deep breath and sighed, he finally found himself able to let his shoulders relax. The smell of an actual breakfast made his stomach rumble, and he adjusted his bag on his shoulder while finding a nice spot to sit at the bar.

“What can I get you today, sugar?” a woman behind the counter gave him a large smile. Had Jacob been paying more attention to her he would’ve noticed that her teeth seemed so perfect they almost looked fake, and she wore so much makeup that it was more of a detriment to her looks rather than a helpful addition. Her hand absentmindedly twirled a lock of bleach blond hair.

“Ill have a coffee and a small plate of pancakes,” he said while setting his laptop on the counter.

“Coming right up, sir,” she winked.

He smiled and waited for her to leave before giving another sigh. He expected the people of this town to be a bit much, and were he running on a good night’s sleep he figured he would be more apt to handle it. He wasn’t however, so for now he tried to focus on an outline for his currently novel.

“What brings you to Hunter’s Creek, stranger?” she asked while pouring him a cup of coffee. The smile was still present on her face, and by the looks of it, it didn’t seem forced either. He wished he could channel that much raw happiness at a time like this. If only he could sap her motivation and use it for his own. The thought wasn’t one he expected his mind to conjure up, but he supposed he could use the idea for part of his story.

“I’m looking for stories,” he responded, wondering if she had any.

“Like scoops? You with the media, Mister?” she looked at him with an accusing gaze and he quickly lifted his hands in defense.

“N-no ma’am! Not at all. I’m a fictional writer, and I was hoping to find some folktales or stories about paranormal activity in the area,” he said, but as it came out of his mouth, he realized that just sounded like a stupid excuse. Luckily it seemed to work anyways.

“Ooooh, I heard from the McDonrey’s that they had a writer stayin’ at their inn. You must be the man of the hour,” her smile slipped right back onto her face as if it hadn’t left, “We got plenty of old coots willing to talk your ear off about magic and crazy nonsense. Though, I’d be a bit careful who you talk to.”

That caught his attention and he finally looked up to make eye contact with her. He took this opportunity to see if his coffee had cooled any too. It had not, no creamer either, he would ask for that in a moment. For now, he listened intently.

“Mr. Baker. He’s always going on about crazy stories. Scares the kids half to death when he talks to him. I know he’s just messin’ around, but yeesh, how messed up do you have to be to have that many spooky stories to let loose?” she sighed and leaned on the counter. It was slow today, but then again Jacob began to wonder if this was normal for such a small town. It was oddly different than the city that he was used to.

“He just thinks up stories on his own? He doesn’t get them from anywhere?” Jacob asked with interest. If they were original works, he would gladly pay if they were good enough to cause a fright, and at this point anything new in those regards would practically be godsend. People just weren’t scared of all the classics anymore.

“Yeah, seems such a nice man until he starts telling those stories. In all other respects he’s a saint. He’s actually a regular at the shop too. It’s almost that time of day when he finally crawls out of whatever hovel he comes from,” she joked, “He doesn’t always share stories, only when the kids ask, and that’s on them.”

“What’d you say his name was?” Jacob opened a notepad on his computer so that he could write the name down.

“Trace Baker, he’s an odd one, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Once he gets to talking it just doesn’t stop.” She set down his pancakes and went to help another customer who had walked in.

Jacob could deal with a senile old man—well as long as said senile old man didn’t have a weapon. Judging from what she had said though, Mr. Baker seemed an agreeable fellow, likely with too much time in his older age to think up stories to mess with the local kids. If he talked as much as she said, then good. More information meant more inspiration. Though he figured the man might be reluctant to sell any ideas, which may end up being a problem.

As he thought he almost ended up forgetting about his pancakes, which he promptly ate now before they got cold. The coffee wasn’t any better now that it had cooled off, and it felt a bit too late and too awkward for him to ask for cream and sugar now, so he decided he would rather just deal with it.

“Coffee without creamer? You’re an odd one, stranger.”

Jacob looked up from his now empty place to the source of the voice. Next to him was a man perhaps just a few years younger than himself with a smile that felt more genuine than most he had ever seen in his life. He sat next to Jacob, which he found a bit odd considering all the available spaces still left in the café. This didn’t seem to bother the mysterious man at all.

“Ah, not something I prefer, usually,” Jacob felt a bit awkward and fiddled with his keyboard just a bit. He didn’t feel so bad as he would’ve with someone sitting next to him, after all his document was open, but it was blank for now. He never could get over people who read over his shoulder nosily.

The man gave out a bit of a chuckle at that and Jacob couldn’t really tell if he was laughing at him or with him. He gave a bit of a sigh, not one that he thought could be heard, but as his luck would have it, it was. The laughter stopped.

“Are you the writer I’ve heard about?” the man asked.

“Word travels fast here if a nobody like me gets this much attention,” Jacob took another sip of the bitter coffee.

“The town doesn’t get many visitors,” he gave a lighthearted laugh once more, “But you sure don’t seem like a nobody to me. Can I ask what you’re here for Mr…?”

“Just Jacob is fine.”

“Alright Jacob,” he started, “What brings you here?”

The other man seemed far too excited about a newcomer in the town. Far more at least than everyone else he had run int who knew that he was new but didn’t pay him any mind. Meanwhile whoever this fellow was looked ready to burst at the seams.

“Uh-“

“Trace, stop running off my customers!” The woman from before wore a large, irritated scowl. The mention of the name Trace however gave Jacob a bit of whiplash.

“Me,” he said, “but you’re the one forcing the guest to drink bland coffee.”

At that she snatched Jacob’s cup, “Crap, I forgot!” she muttered to herself before running into the kitchen. The name certainly wasn’t the only reason he was a bit shocked now. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond to a community so tightly knit that everyone seemed to act like feuding family members.

“She can be a bit forgetful, you just have to remind her,” Trace said with no evidence of bother in his voice.

“Hold on a moment,” Jacob collected his thoughts, “You’re Trace Baker? The town’s scary story enthusiast?” he would’ve found it funny if he weren’t in shock. He supposed he shouldn’t have assumed it was an old man, but the idea of ravings on paranormal activity seemed nothing short of senile.

“Yes…” his tone shifted just a little and he looked more confused now, “I wouldn’t call myself an enthusiast, but I am Trace Baker.”

#as always this chapter may be subject to change in the future #still need a title #oc stuff #chapter one #jacob (jake) collins #jacob oc #johnathan trace baker #trace oc #ive been writing this all day lol #daggers ocs #dagger writes #this is unedited so if there are typos feel free to point them out so i can fix them on the actual doc

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meganshinsou-tm · 5 years

Text

Shared Walls. (m)

↳ chapter seventeen: scars

❧ genre: pro-hero shouto, coworkers to lovers, happy ending

❧ chapter warnings: talk of death

[multi-chap masterlist] [previous chapter - next chapter]

You sighed, pushing yourself from the desk, causing your chair to roll back and bump into Haru's. The dark-haired male laughed and turned his chair to face you with a smile. It was nearing lunchtime and you were starving.

"Have lunch with me today? Outside on the rooftop?"

"Aww darling, I really would love to, but I have to leave in a few minutes for a dentist appointment."

You pouted and let your head fall onto the desk. Haru was your only chance to eat outside today, everyone else was either about to leave to go back out on patrol from their lunch break or they were gone. Shouto was out dealing with an attack at the moment, so he wasn't coming back anytime soon.

Ever since your encounter with Dabi, you agreed to let Shouto put you under house and work arrest until the villain was caught and questioned. You honestly didn't mind though, you pretty much moved into your lover's apartment, you were still escorted to and from work. You never left the house or work alone without Shouto or one of the other heroes to guide you. You were even forbidden from eating outside on the roof alone.

Bottom line, someone had to be with you at all times.

You were really bummed that Haru was leaving before lunch, you were going stir crazy from being inside the massive agency each day. You loved the rooftop, the way the city looked and sounded below you just made you feel happy and you enjoyed the cool and crispy air.

You sat up from the desk and quirked a brow and looked at Haru.

"Wait, if you're leaving, then who is going to 'supervise' me? Everyone else is out!"

"Well not everyone, your future father in law is still here. He's been in his office all day actually," Haru replied with a snicker as he started to gather his things.

Your face then turned from bummed to excited as you jumped from your seat, nearly giving your friend a heart attack.

"Oh yay! Me and Enji don't spend enough time together, I'm gonna go see if he'll have lunch with me!"

You hurried from the desk, skipping with joy towards Endeavors office. Haru quirked a brow and shook his head, it was strange to see someone actually excited about spending time with the flame hero. He wasn't exactly a people person, but you had this effect on the massive man that no one understood, not even his own son.

Inside his office, Enji tilted his head side to side, making the bones in his neck crack. He sighed as he felt the fluids leaving from their sockets and rushing. It was very rare that he spent an entire day at his desk, but today he needed to catch up on reports and paper work for the agency that was more confidential than the paperwork you handled.

When a light knock sounded against the door he rose quirk a maroon brow and sat back.

"Come in," his voice bellowed throughout the vast and empty office.

The door handle turned and a set of (h/c) locks and (e/c) eyes popped out from behind the door. A small smile crossed your face and you waved a hand at Enji.

"Good afternoon Enji," you cheerfully greeted opening the door wider and walking into the office.

"(Y/N), how can I help you? Are you okay? Do you need something?"

You chuckled and rubbed the back of your neck, "Geez, you and Shouto really are alike sometimes."

Endeavor smirked and stood from his chair as you neared his desk.

"I'm fine Enji, I was just wanting to know if you'd like to have lunch with me today. Haru is about to leave, so I'll be bored eating alone plus you're the only person here in the office and well ... you know."

Enji saw how your expression changed drastically, you didn't even have to further elaborate on your situation. In fact, the #1 hero kept his own eye on you since Shouto put in place your protection plan. Enji knew you consented to it, knowing that it was only temporary and because his son loved you so much and wanted to guarantee your safety, but he also knew you would get bummed out about it every now and then. You were a lively and energetic girl, it was like keeping a puppy caged up.

The man mustered up his best convincing and hopefully non-terrifying smile as he gathered the paperwork on his desk into a neat stack.

"I'd enjoy that, what did you have in mind?"

"Really?" You questioned with a surprised look, Enji nodded and crossed his arms making you remember he asked you a question as well. "Oh – uh, uh. Pizza okay?"

Thirty minutes later, you and Enji were enjoying lunch together. He had already devoured one entire large meat pizza by himself, you were working on finishing the last few pieces of your own large pepperoni pizza. Enji took a piece of the third pizza you had, it was pepperoni as well with extra cheese. You both also had extra large soft drinks you were gulping to wash down your food.

Enji had removed his suit jacket and was in his black button up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he sat comfortably on the couch he moved over to face the window.

You sat on the floor, legs crossed in your jeans and comfy sweater, one palm holding you up as you sat back and took a bite of your pizza, holding it high up to the sky as a long string of cheese stretched out. If anyone walked in they would probably think that they were hallucinating. It looked as if Enji were this massive, intimidating monster that had befriend an adorable and petite little girl, very story like and comical in fact.

When the piece of cheese broke you giggled and looked out the window you sat before. The city was bustling with life as usual, it wasn't the rooftop but this was good enough. You swallowed your bite of food and grabbed your soda to take a sip of it, a satisfied 'ah' leaving your mouth when you gulped it down.

"Enji, you're so lucky to have such a beautiful view. I remember the day of my interview, Haru escorted me in here and told me to wait for Shouto. I fell in love instantly with this city, all because of this view. I remember thinking this is the perfect place to hide, but ... well we all know how that turned out huh?"

You threw you head back with a laugh then took another bite of pizza.

Enji took a sip of his own drink and smirked. "You know, it's comforting but also somewhat concerning how you can feel so lighthearted about your situation. I don't mean to darken the moment, but just from what I've learned about your ex, he was in fact planning to kill you once he had you back."

You shrugged your shoulders and started picking at the slices of pepperoni on your pizza.

"He was, no doubt about it, but I was more than ready to accept my fate. It was honestly something I looked forward to sometimes, knowing that if and when it came, I'd be free from running. Then, Shouto came into the picture and I had someone else to worry about getting hurt. I'm not like the two of you, blessed with an overwhelmingly powerful quirk, the only power I had to protect the one I love was running away. But, you have a very stubborn and hard-headed son, who refused to let me do so, and now here I am!"

Enji let a hearty laugh roll from his chest. "Tell me something I don't know."

"He must've been a handful as a child huh," you questioned with a smile.

Enji fell silent and repressed guilt started to slowly creep in. You noted his silence and looked at him from your spot on the ground. The expression the man wore was one you've never soon before. It was sadness and shame. Before you could backtrack or question what was wrong, Enji asked you a question himself.

"Has Shouto ever told you about his childhood?"

You shook your head as you placed a pepperoni in your mouth and chewed it quickly, sitting up straight and placing the rest of your food back in the box. "Not really, no."

"He's never told you about our relationship? His scar."

"No sir, he's only ever told me that your relationship wasn't always the best. And he hasn't told me anything about his scar, but I also don't ask about it, I figured he'd tell me when he's ready."

Enji nodded and contemplated.

Was it his place to tell you this story, would Shouto resent him once again if he did? Would you resent him?

Endeavors turquoise eyes met yours. They widened as you looked at him with concern. It was no secret that Enji had a massive soft spot for you, his son was head over heels in love with you and he could see why. You were very bright and bubbly, you lit up the entire agency, no matter where you were. You were also the first person in the agency that didn't shudder in fear at the sight of him. Sure when he first met you, he knew it wasn't your ideal situation and you were a nervous wreck, but you weren't scared.

Could Enji himself, bear to have you look at and think of him in a different way than you do now?

He was in fact the reason for his son's pain, he inflicted it himself, directly and indirectly. He caused his son's mother to find him unbearable, to hurt him. Enji still thought of Shouto as his greatest creation, but for different reasons now. He was in fact on his way to surpassing even himself, but that wasn't what he cared about. Enji was genuinely proud of his son and how far he had come, all on his own. Shouto was undeniably strong and powerful and despite the hell he endured as a child, at Enji's own hand, he still turned out to be a wonderful person.

Maybe ... this was indeed Enji's tale to tell.

"(Y/N), I think we should have a talk about our Shouto."

About fifteen minutes later you sat there, still on the floor. Your knees were pulled into your chest as your arms wrapped around them. Your eyes stared out of the window, glistening as you fought back a small tear.

Enji told you everything.

About his quirk marriage and his goal to breed these perfect children, all for one sole purpose, to surpass All Might. He told you about how Shouto was finally born and how he was the perfect combination of his and Rei's DNA and how he would become his successor. You thought about all the pain and hurt that Shouto had went through, all alone. Your heart broke hearing about how Rei was the cause of the scar that adorned his beautiful face. How she suffered as well and ended up spending her years in the psychiatric hospital for it.

You thought you had been through hell and back but all your problems seemed so insignificant now. You yearned to run to your boyfriend and give him the biggest and warmest hug you could.

"(Y/N) ... I'm so sorry. I understand if you think of me as a monster now," Enji spoke breaking the silence.

You finally turned to look at the sad man, you pouted because your heart broke for him too. Enji spoke to you about his encounter with the High-End Nomu that almost cost him his life. He also told you that during that fight, all he could think about were his wife and kids. How it was then that he realized all the wrong he had ever done. Since then he'd been atoning for his sins, trying his best to make it up to them.

"I know they'll never forget what I did, and I don't expect them to, but I just want them to know that ... that I love them and that I'm proud of them," he had stated.

"Enji, I could ever think of you as a monster, that is not the person I know. I'm not the type to judge you based on your past. Don't get me wrong, I don't agree with your tactics but you have come to acknowledge them as wrong yourself. I have a feeling that if you could go back, you'd do it differently. Shouto, doesn't seem to hold resentment against you, so I won't either. In fact, you know ... Shouto talks very highly of you."

Endeavor looked up at you, his hands hanging low in his lap. "He does?"

"Mhm. I mentioned that I was somewhat terrified to meet you during my interview. Shouto told me that you and he had 'made leaps and bounds' in your relationship. That you're one of the most respected heroes in the industry, he seemed to have a glimmer in his eye, like he was proud."

You smiled softly and rested your head on your knees and looked at Enji, "In fact, who did he call both times my life was in danger?"

"Me," Enji replied quietly.

"Exactly, now to me that sounds like a son that trusts, respects and even needs his father. I'm the most precious thing in Shouto's life right now and you're the one he goes to when he needs help or doesn't know what to do about keeping me safe. You may still have some ground to cover with him, but I think so far Shouto does know you love him or else he wouldn't trust you with my own life."

Enji nodded slowly as he looked back down to the floor. The words you had spoken, they meant so much to him. They gave him hope that him and his son could further their relationship. He also thought about how happy he was for Shouto, to have found someone like you. You weren't judging Enji like he thought you would, instead you were accepting him.

For the first time in years, Enji felt a tear well up in the corner of his sea blue eyes, he sniffed trying to force it back down. The sound of you feet shuffling caused him to look up to see you standing before him, a soft smile on your face. It was humorous how you were finally eye level with him as he sat on the couch. You looked at his sad eyes and rubbed the back of your neck nervously.

"Hey Enji, did Shouto tell you I have a scar too? It's on my back, on the same side as yours and his."

"No, he didn't tell me. I guess we're all twins huh?" Endeavor cracked a small smile.

You smiled back and nodded, "Well triplets, but I get where you were going!"

Enji chuckled as you corrected him, you reminded him of his own son, so endearing and unafraid of him.

"Anyway, me and Shouto have this ongoing thing about us being star-crossed lovers. And I think our scars are just further proof of it, even yours. The three of us seem to suffer from a dark past, but we have prevailed and we will keep on."

Enji smiled, "Well I'm glad that fate has sent you to my Shouto. He's very happy with you, I can tell. You two make a lovely couple and I'm sure that some day in the future, we shall be able to call each other family. Nothing would make me happier than to see my son wed such a kind and powerful young woman as yourself!"

You pouted your lips and unconsciously leapt forwards, wrapping your arms around Enji's massive shoulders. At first he was taken back by your lack of personal space but slowly he came to accept it, it was nice to be shown this type of affection. Slowly his own arms wrapped around you and he returned the friendly hug, you were becoming like a second daughter to him.

"Thank you Enji, for everything!"

As you and Enji pulled away, his massive hand ruffled the top of your head and his eyes looked down to the rest of your unfinished pizza and to the other that laid untouched.

"Surely a small girl like you can't finish the rest of that!"

"That sounds like a challenge Mr. Endeavor," you replied cracking your knuckles and stepping away.

"I tell you what, if you win, I'll pay for your future honeymoon!"

"Oh, you're on!"

Shouto wondered around the agency, frantically searching for you. When he saw one of the other heroes walking around he stopped them, grabbing their elbow.

"Hey, do you know where (Y/N) is?"

"Oh yeah, uh – she's in your dads office. I think she's been there since lunch."

Shouto thanked his coworker and jogged off in the direction of his father's office. Once he got to the door he listened closely, only being able to hear the rustling of papers. He lightly knocked on the door, Enji's voice quietly told him to enter. Shouto quirked a brow and turned the door knob, slowly opening the door. He saw his father sitting at his desk, writing. Enji then looked at him and pointed to the couch that was sitting in front of the window.

Todoroki walked in and towards the couch, he stopped when he saw you passed out on it and curled up in a blanket.

"She passed out after challenging me to a pizza eating contest, to which she won by the way! So now, I have to pay for your future honeymoon."

Shouto smirked and walked over to you, crouching down and running his fingers through your hair. You sighed and curled up more into the blanket as he placed a kiss to your forehead and stood up again, walking to Enji’s desk.

"She gets bored easily, I hate treating her like a prisoner, but ... it's the only thing I know to do right now." Todoroki sat in the chair before the desk and rubbed his neck.

"She understands Shouto, don't worry. Hopefully it'll be over soon, I've been working nonstop to find him. You know, the two of you need a break, you should take her somewhere for the weekend. Get her out of the city."

"Yeah, I could do that. So, pizza eating contest?"

"Oh yeah, she won fair and square. It was quite funny how after eating so much food, she got all delirious and extremely tired. We were talking and she passed out mid-sentence. I don't think she'll be hungry for a while."

Shouto chuckled and shook his head, leaning back to look at you, "You'd be surprised, she's like an endless pit. I don't know where she puts it all."

"I guess that's no shock, considering she did beat me, of all people, in an eating contest. I enjoyed her company though, it was nice. We were able to just sit and talk."

Shouto quirked a brow and looked back at his father, "Talk about what exactly?"

"Well about you. Shouto - I took it upon myself to tell her," Enji confessed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Tell her?"

Shouto gave his father a questionable look, his father returned him a serious expression and it made him realize what it was that his father told you. "I was going to tell her. You didn't need to do that, I -"

"I did though. I'm the reason for your scar Shouto, I'm the reason for everything that went wrong in your childhood. I wanted her to hear it from me, I had already admitted my wrongdoings to you and your siblings, I needed to admit them to her."

Shouto nodded, taken back by his father's forwardness. He stood from the chair he sat in and nodded before walking over to you. Slowly and gently he scooped you into his arms, making you stir as he lifted you. Shushing you softly and pressing his cheek to your head, you quickly went back to sleep in his arms.

Todoroki walked with you towards the door, stopping before he opened it and turning to his father. Enji looked at his son and how carefully he held you close. Shouto bowed his head towards him and half smiled, making Enji return the gesture.

Shouto didn't feel the need to continue this conversation, he knew his father wasn't the same man he used to be and that he told you nothing but the truth, not making himself look good at all. Shouto knew this was a talk his father more than likely had a hard enough time telling you, but he was grateful. Enji laid out the ground work for him, now it was his turn to talk with you about it himself, the hard part out of the way.

"Thank you father. I'll take your advice and bring her somewhere. When we get back, maybe me and you can go out one night and have our own talk."

Enji nodded, hope filling his eyes once again. "Anytime son, call me if either of you need anything."

#shared walls #shouto todoroki #shouto todoroki x reader #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction

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lazywriter7 · 5 years

Text

to toasts, and schooling

“So I’m stuck there asking the obvious, which is, ‘why do you think you should marry her?’” And Tony’s trying to hold on to the lighthearted tone, he was, but it’s hard to not let sincerity sneak in when you’ve got Peter Parker watching you deliver a toast in his honour, luminescent in his happiness. When you’ve got a crowd of people you love and respect hanging on your every word – and Steve Rogers at the back of said crowd, glass untouched in his hand; gaze undimmed by time, as steady and unwavering as it was twenty years ago. “And Peter answers back, the most assured I’ve ever seen him, ‘Because I want to’.”

“I’m looking for the groom. Have you seen him?”

The server opened his mouth, and shut it again. Hitched his tray of Captain America themed canapes a little higher, like readying himself to fling it into Tony’s face at the slightest hint of danger. “Uh. This is an anniversary party?”

“Being the organiser slaving after this shindig for ages – I am aware.” Tony parsed out a smile, perilously polite. “The groom?”

The server blinked wide eyes. “I think I saw him near the fajitas?”

“Brilliant, of course you did.” Tony spun around on his heels, ignoring the flinch and subsequent wobble the server and his tray executed. The fajita table was on the far end of the hall, and it took fifteen whole minutes of ducking and weaving (okay fine, the crowds parted before him a la Moses-and-the-Red-Sea, but it still took fifteen darn minutes) to find the man of the hour and creep up behind him. Tony crossed his arms, realised it rendered him incapable of actually drawing said man’s attention, uncrossed them again and tapped the guy on his shoulder, if a bit imperiously.

“You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

It was still a jolt to the brain, a brief shot of cognitive dissonance on watching him turn – that square jaw, more well-shaved than baby-smooth, a head of hair that had truly outgrown its teenaged-mop phase, the black lines of a suit that didn’t look loosely propped on a wire hanger, but rather like it…fit. Those eyes would always remain the same though – idealistic spark and impossible kindness twinned in dark irises.

Nevertheless, Peter Parker remained a sneaky bastard who wouldn’t answer a straight accusation. Instead, his thin brows went winging to his hairline, eyes flitting up and down Tony’s frame dubiously. “You look…shiny.”

(Agh, the voice shitted him the most. Tony missed that reedy, high-pitched wonder of a larynx, dammit.)

“Needless to say, if tomorrow’s headlines are going to be Unmarried silver fox presides over protégé’s ten-year anniversary , you bet your wedded ass I’m gonna lean into it.” Tony smoothed down the lapels of his own three-piece – dove gray, just a few shades lighter than his hair, with silver pinstripes. Shiny was one word for it. Awesome was another.

“You need to stop saying that.” Peter turned back to his little paper plate boasting a fajita tower of over six inches, easy. Hell, to have a metabolism like that. The last time Tony had indulged in Mexican, he’d been toilet-ridden with gastro for over a week. “Last time MJ misheard you and now she keeps threatening to weld my ass shut.”

Ah, those innocent days when Peter would rather spontaneously combust than use the a-word in front of ‘Mr Stark’. Tony pinched a scrap of cheese from Peter’s plate, the latter barely blinking an eye. “Well, who told you to enter holy matrimony at twenty-one, then?”

Peter stared at him flatly. “You did.”

“Damn right I did.” Tony affirmed with pride, scarfing down the cheese in a single gulp. Mm, cotija. “And still no grandkids for Uncle Tony.”

“Genealogically, that’s an impossibility.” Ooh, big word – though there was a tiny bean-scented burp between syllables three and four. Peter cleared his throat, faintly pink.

There was another tempting little cheesy strip hanging out the bottom fajita, Tony’s fingers were positively itching. To cheese or not to cheese? Gah, who cared, you only lived an average of four times, being a caped crusader. And so through a mouthful of snatched dairy and more than a little beef: “The main thing, and don’t you think I haven’t noticed you avoiding it with your ten-dollar words – you were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

“There was a call to Assemble.” Peter replied, perfectly straight faced.

Tony’s eyes narrowed, even as he proceeded to lick up the grease lingering around his fingernails. “I didn’t hear of it.”

“Not sure if they still keep you in the know, but I tend to do the calling these days.” The swagger was nowhere near Stark levels, but unmistakeably present. It was brilliant.

“Was that an ‘old, useless relic’ dig?” Tony approximated a glare to the best of his ability. “And after all I did for you when you were a midget.”

“Nothing like being called ‘Underoos’ to legitimise your identity as a superhero.” Peter was demolishing the tower faster than it had piled up, till only draggly, soggy bits of vegetable remained.

“Fine. I suppose I’ll just have to ask Kamala about this mysterious call to arms–”

“Fine, I misplaced my cufflinks, jeez .” Well-tailored as they were, Peter’s sleeves still flapped with his gesturing, aforementioned cufflinks glinting under the light – blood-red hour glass shapes embossed on plain obsidian circles. “Just because she hangs on your every word with all the fangirling and ‘Mr Stark’s–”

“Golly gee, I wonder who that reminds me of–”

“ Tony .” Mock frustrated as the tone was, Peter was still grinning. Tony could feel his heart swell a million sizes.

Peter commenced tugging his sleeves back over his wrists, straightening them conscientiously, fingers lingering absently on the smoothed curve of the cufflinks. “Speaking of – did Nat say she was coming?”

“With an Itsy Bitsy Spider mug, no less.” Tony cast a last, disconsolate look at the fajita table and turned away. “Also still can’t believe she lets you call her that.”

“Just spider solidarity.” Peter positively beamed, and Tony could have recited the next words in his sleep because it had to be the fifty thousand and seven hundredth time he’d heard them, “She first taught me how to–”

“Fight, I know. What with all the positive word-of-mouth, the Black Widow’s lessons on ‘Strangling: Why use fingers when you’ve got a perfectly serviceable pair of thighs’ have been overbooked for the past decade.”

“Not that I don’t mentally note it down every time you say stuff like that–” Peter straightened up noticeably, smile broadening till it went from charming to no-one-panic-but-we’ve-got-a-DEFCON-5, “but I’m going to have to ask you to save it for the toast. Which you’re making right now.”

“Why do I have to–”

“Because I’d rather not explain to my wife that I was over an hour late to my ten-year anniversary party looking for my lucky Black Widow cufflinks.” Peter was emitting at the rate of approximately five words per second – impressive really. Moments like these, Tony kinda got why they called Peter his spiritual heir. Also – holy shit that was MJ stalking through the crowd towards them, resplendent in red and calmly murderous.

Peter grabbed at the first glass that floated by on a server’s tray and shoved it into Tony’s hands. His fingers curled around the glass stem on autopilot – ooh, Dr Pepper – even as he stumbled a few steps ahead, being not-so-gently-nudged at the back by a certain someone who needed to keep a lid on the super strength, darn it.

“Okay, so we’re apparently having a toast now.” He hadn’t even spoken that much louder than his usual volume, but it was like a ripple effect: the clusters of people around him immediately quietened down, and forty seconds in, Tony was counting, the entire hall was hushed and staring at him. It was scary, almost. Humbling.

“Right, so. I’d have kept you guys waiting, but a certain spider-themed superhero isn’t feeling very heroic right now – so here I am, delaying impending doom with a toast.” Tony lifted his glass a bit recklessly to a now-still MJ, halted in her warpath about twenty metres away. She was smiling though, so maybe homicide wasn’t on the horizon. “To be honest, I’m getting a Terminator-esqe ‘I’m gonna be slaying twenty minutes in the future anyhow’ vibe from his lovely spouse, so this may all have been in vain.”

“Timing ain’t too bad, the press are outside anyway so you’ve skipped the hassle of calling a conference to break news of the divorce.” Tony acceded, and scattered laughs broke out in a sea of shining, amused faces. God, this felt surreal. “See, no, you’re doing it wrong, that pause was meant for the awkward silence. Maaaybe a scandalised gasp. Instead you’re all just smiling at me like I’m some deranged uncle at a wedding, which fair, I am.”

“But you know me. You know me and you know this toast isn’t getting any better from here on out, yet you’re standing there anyway all happy ears instead of booing me off. And that’s…that’s pretty special.” From the corner of his eye, Tony could see Peter quietly creep up to where MJ stood, cufflinks catching the light again as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. Could see MJ’s arched eyebrow, the little quirk to her lips as her fingers slipped into the crook of her husband’s elbow. Tony smiled. “And I guess that’s what we’re all here to celebrate. Something special.”

And then, like it had been perfectly choreographed though Tony couldn’t have dreamt up this kind of symmetry – there was movement by the door. Tony’s eyes flitted over for a single instant, enough to catch the tall figure that had just ducked in; candelabra light gleaming off his favourite blue shirt and grey-blonde hair.

Tony’s free hand reached up to tug at his own lapels, fingers smoothing over the outline of a chain through the silk of his shirt. “Ten years ago, this young little upstart, newest addition to the Avengers, vanishes in the middle of a post-mission clean up. I attempt to track him down, for reasons that have everything to do with a touching, almost parental concern; and not influenced at all by how brain-devouringly boring clean up duty is.”

Chuckles everywhere, though Tony’s gaze went winging back to the rear of the crowd, where a familiar figure had appropriated himself a glass and was leaning against one of the pillars. Prime posing location, right next to one of the biggest candelabras – Tony highly approved. “As expected, I find him hanging out, upside down, from the newly refurbished A on top of Avengers Tower. Goes there every time he has a decision to make, probably thinks all the increased bloodflow to the head is going to make it work better – I don’t have the heart to tell him otherwise, poor lad.”

“It’s there, both of us sitting on the middle bar of the A like a park bench, that he tells me, ‘I think I wanna marry MJ’.” The good-natured laughter so far quietened down; everyone’s gaze redirected to the couple in question – but Peter and MJ were looking at him, soft-eyed and perfect.

“Of course, being the elder, mature adult that I am, my mind immediately flicks to the practicalities.” His tones veered towards something almost serious – for all of three seconds, because he was fooling nobody. “Namely, the location of MJ’s burial place and whether necrophilia is still illegal in the state of New York, though a part of my mind does think that Peter could do better than a moonwalking has-been. I don’t get too far beyond, ‘I didn’t think you even liked Thriller’ before I am summarily reminded of the other MJ, Peter’s cool, alternative-culture girlfriend.” And there she was now, rocking a red jumpsuit and a self-engineered wedding band, with a ‘damn straight’ smirk curling up her lips. Sure, Tony was a spectacular specimen of his time, but hell if this new generation wasn’t something else. “Y’know, in that she doesn’t give a rat’s ass what people think, and believes in a fair, just society and the betterment of human kind.”

“So I’m stuck there asking the obvious, which is, ‘why do you think you should marry her?’” And he’s trying to hold on to the lighthearted tone, he was, but it’s hard to not let sincerity sneak in when you’ve got Peter Parker watching you deliver a toast in his honour, luminescent in his happiness. When you’ve got a crowd of people you love and respect hanging on your every word – and Steve Rogers at the back of said crowd, glass untouched in his hand; gaze undimmed by time, as steady and unwavering as it was twenty years ago. “And Peter answers back, the most assured I’ve ever seen him, ‘Because I want to’.”

The words were coming slowly, shaped by Tony’s inadequate voice with as much significance, as much unadulterated earnestness as they deserved. “He says, ‘We share things in common, but… it’s more that it already feels like we’re a team, me and her. We don’t always get each other, but we listen. We always listen. We have our fights, but we try to communicate through that and we don’t make excuses.” It all sounded so…inexcusably simple, narrated by a man who knew through time-tested experience how much it wasn’t. And there was at least one other person here today who knew it too. Tony cleared his throat, soft and uncharacteristically unobtrusive. “We’ve lived with the best and worst in each other. And I love her.’”

“And that’s when it strikes me, an honest-to-Thor epiphany right in the middle of this twenty-one year old rugrat prattling to me about love.” A wry, amused sound escaped his lips – memory hazy and rose-toned, but still so vivid. “ ‘Cause you see, I’d been expecting a laundry list of perfections – ‘oh MJ so smart’ and ‘oh MJ so pretty’ and ‘she makes me crack up like a loon’. But Peter didn’t say any of that.”

“Peter wasn’t telling me how great MJ was. He was telling me how great they were together.” Tony’s chest was squeezing on itself, the sheer pride that surged within a little difficult to contain. “And that’s a detail that we long-in-the-tooth, stodgy adults – with all of our realism and all of our practicality – forget so easily. To put it in sporting terms: it isn’t about the player of the match.” And it was the most involuntary thing in the world, to raise his eyes again and meet Steve’s steadfast eyes, that littlest curve of his lips from across the hall. “The love of your life, the most incredible person you’ve ever known. It’s about the team.”

“So I turned to him and said, ‘well, I don’t know about love. But all that other stuff you mentioned sounds pretty fantastic’.” Peter was leaning into MJ’s side now, with all the light of the world in his eyes, while she gave his elbow an affectionate squeeze – Tony blinked rapidly, eyes burning with a curiously sweet sting. “And he goggles at me and goes, ‘you’re the only person I’ve asked who thinks I’m not crazy.’ Of course, cut to ten years and now, we’re gathered here commemorating the occasion solid proof was finally obtained that I’m smarter than the rest of you sane, mature, non-epiphanised people.” And glassy-eyed or no, Tony still toasted the air with more than a slight touch of glee, voice hoarse and delighted all at one go. “I told you so.”

“So while we’re all standing around, let’s also raise a glass to Peter and MJ – who somehow, despite belonging to the same species as the rest of us who screw up on a daily basis – have managed to do everything, absolutely right by each other.” His jaw might have cracked a little, from the ache of grinning at the man who was dearer to him than any child he could’ve ever had – all the while the best guy he’d ever known, who loved him, watched on smilingly from the distance. Maybe it was just the Dr Pepper talking, but this felt like one of the moments all those other moments had been leading up to. “I think you might be what marriage is supposed to look like. And here’s to ten more years of schooling us in being awesome.”

(Extract from a longer fic here )

#iron dad #spideyson #no spoilers here #stevetony #peter/mj #old stevetony #fluffy fluff #compliant with nothing because screw that shit #rereading this helped me post you-know-what #everyone and everything is happy #tony stark #peter parker #steve rogers #aunt may's helping herself to canapes here somewhere

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mrneighbourlove · 5 years

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Filling the Emptiness: Ch 5. Coming Together

“Ms. Ingo. Please take a seat.”

Sunny Ingo had been waiting a while now outside on a bench. Her father had gone inside and made his case to their benefactors that she was not only ideal, but the perfect person to take on the mantle and responsibility of running Lon Lon Milk incorporated. Sunny groomed herself and dedicated her life to running the ranch effectively.

Leere’s family looked into her background, and the King and Queen themselves made recommendations for her. Sunny felt so grateful, but also a huge amount of weight on her shoulders for this meeting to go well. She wore a formal dress, but nothing like the royals had. It was more casual, but the material it was made of would speak for how rich her family was. She also straightened her hair and applied makeup as well as darkener to her eyebrows to look more appealing to the men. Sunny didn’t mind flaunting wealth on rare occasions. She and her family poured their full will and strength into their business to become so successful.

Entering the conference hall, Sunny gave a bow to the various men and woman who were seated. “Good afternoon everyone.”

“Good afternoon Ms. Ingo. Please take a seat.” Sunny did as she was told, finding a seat at a table. Her financial supporters sat in a half circle in front of her, taking notes the second she walked through the door. It seemed that they were judging her before she even spoke a word. The man directly in front of her had a curly mustache, and a big red bowtie. “I’m sure you’re anxious about today.”

“Not at all Mr. Burnaby.” Sunny’s thick accent pushed to battle against his own. It would be a battle of carefully chosen words, and having to never show a hint of weakness.

“Ah, well that’s good. Because we have very important matters to go over.”

“Quite, quite.” Another man, with a rounder belly, a white mustache took a sip of Lon Lon milk. “Did you make this?”

Sunny gave a smile, and a jolly chuckle. “I did. Along with the rest of my family. We follow the mantra of working smart and hard. That way everyone is happy with the best quality product ready to be distributed.”

One of the woman, Lorleidian, on the council gave a nod of approval. “A very great way of thinking Ms. Ingo. Can you tell us any changes you’d make if you were promoted to leading your families business? It is very Hylian oriented as I’ve noticed.”

“Well, it’s true that it’s a Hylian born business. Hard to keep up with everyone else Mamm. Kids rather see dragons and all the exotic critters Princess Orana gathers than horses or farm animals nowadays. And to be honest, Lorleidians are amazing at fishing and suppling other labour to the work economy. That said, I want to make something clear. I won’t pass up any work from other folks if they are looking for a modest living though. When I lead, I want to inspire everyone to work as a team. We help each other grow. I’d love to expand our product to the far reaches of Hyrule if we can maximize our work force.”

That answer seemed to register with the woman, and, with a quiet and slow nod, she made notes in her ledger. The council took a minute to talk silently amongst themselves, shooting glances back at Sunny as they came to their own conclusions. The lead man cleared his throat, speaking once more. “Ms. Ingo. We understand that you are a family business. Your father inherited the business from his father. Which your grandfather inherited it from his mother. Now, we understand that all of your siblings are married. Some even have kids.”

“That’s correct.”

“We also understand that you have a select taste in lovers that would make it difficult to continue your family line.” The man gave Sunny a deep look in the eyes that made her uncomfortable. “I’m sure someone as dedicated as you could fix that issue. Correct Ms. Ingo?”

Sunny was a little miffed, her brow giving a slight furl, but she kept her smile bright. “I can have you all rest assured, that I will find a way to continue the family line.”

The councilman stroked his mustache, thinking over her words. “We have your character references, as well as your work history regarding your efficiency. We’ll talk over our choice on the matter. Give us five minutes Ms. Ingo. Please stay where you are.”

The rancher watched as the council men and woman stood up and walked to another room to privately discuss their vote. She took a few deep breathes and thought back to her family for comfort. Her mother in particular brought her peace…

“Moma! Can I look at the telescope?”

A woman with hair as dark as space smiled down to her daughter. She named all her children after the entities of the grand beauty of the galaxy. Her first child had hair as bright as the sun. Her little Sunny. Lifting her daughter up on her lap, Phoebe tipped the telescope for her daughter to peer through. “What do you see Sunny?”

“I see stars! I love stars!”

“Stars are amazing my dear. It’s why I named you after the most important one.”

“The sun! It feeds everyone life! Its how Papa is able to run the business!”

“That’s right. But our galaxy is filled with so many wonders. Look over here.” Sunny’s mother adjusted the telescope, and showed off a few constellations to her daughter. “That’s the chariot of Apollo. And over here. The fire of Din. Some say the gods reward the best of humanity with new constellations in the sky.”

“Really?! What else is up there?”

“Well my dear, I was going to save this for tomorrow… but what the heck. You know how the crown prince and that beautiful water princess are getting married?”

“Yes! I saw glimpse of them while at the market with Papa! They look so happy!”

“Well, they’re going to be blessed by one of the crowning jewels of nature itself for their wedding tomorrow. Look at the moon Sunny. You noticed how its been slowly been growing bigger?”

“Yes? Is it gonna fall onto the Earth?”

Phoebe gave a lighthearted laugh at that. “No, no my dear. I certainly hope not. What’s happening, is that an event called an Solar Eclipse is about to take place. The moon travels directly in front of the sun, and for a small window of time, it will block it out, plunging the world in a small period of darkness.”

“That sounds scary!”

“It’ll be beautiful. I promise. It’s a day that you won’t forget. You’ll see such amazing sights.”

“Ok.” Young Sunny felt a little better at her mother’s encouragement. “Maybe we can get a meteor shower too!”

Her mother gave a giggle, bouncing her daughter on her knee. “Perhaps we might. May even be lucky for a small comet or meteorite to land in Hyrule. The really small ones are good luck if you collect them.”

“But the big ones go boom!”

“Yes they do. So let’s hope we can avoid that~” Phoebe set her daughter down and took her hand. “Now come along. You have a goodnight’s rest to attend. Let’s not keep your siblings waiting for a bed night story.”

“But I don’t want to go to bed.”

“Silly girl. When we go to sleep, that’s when we dream. And dreams lead use amongst the stars…”

That was the last good memory Sunny had of her mother. The day the sun went out, so did her mother. Sunny shook her head, dispelling the bad thoughts from creeping in on what came after. She wouldn’t let the bad end ruin everything good before hand and she couldn’t afford to cry right now. Those softer times of her mother and her astronomy made her feel safe and happy in her mind.

When the council returned, she sat straight, but relaxed thanks to her internal meditation. The man with the mustache took the lead speaking once more. “Ms. Ingo. I won’t waste anymore of your time. The board has made its vote. We are 9-7 in your favour. Some aren’t convinced, but I’m sure you can change their minds. When your father is ready, he may officially hand over the title of C.E.O to you. Congratulations Ms. Ingo.”

Sunny stood up, trying to not let the excitement get to her. She felt disturbed that, most likely, without the help of the royals, she probably wouldn’t have the job she worked so hard for. The rancher shook each and every one of their hands. “Thank you so much. I’ll prove I’m right for the job. You can be rest assured in your continued support of Lon Lon Ranch.”

“I’m sure our investments will be rewarded.”

Sunny left the board meeting, and ran to her family waiting for her. Her brothers and sisters had worn their best clothing for coming anywhere near the castle. She let relief wash over her seeing them all here. “I did it. I got the job.”

Her siblings and father cheered, rushing to greet her. “Yes! I know you would!”

“You got the iron will to do so!”

“That’s our Sunny. Always burning bright.”

Her father gave her a pat on the back, his wrinkles smoothing out as he smiled. “You’ve done well Sunny. How I wish your mother was here.”

“I was actually thinking about her. Maybe she’s a shooting star giving us luck now.”

From the end of the hall, Leere was running around the corner, having been given word that Sunny had finished her meeting. Seeing her family, she felt some anxiety creep up on her. What if she didn’t live up to expectations? Wearing a simple dress, she gave Sunny’s family a wave as she approached. “Hello everyone.”

Sunny turned to Leere, taking her hands and planting a kiss on her. “I did it. I’m going to be the C.E.O of the Lon Lon Milk Corporation.”

Leere’s face bloomed into ecstatic happiness, and she kissed Sunny back again. “I’m so proud of you. You’re going to be fantastic.”

Her family eyed the couple, finally getting a look at them together, and eying Leere up on what kind of woman she was. Sunny put an arm around Leere’s waist and turned her towards them. “I’d like you all to meet my girlfriend. Princess Leere.”

Leere gave a polite bow of the head. “Just Leere is fine if that makes you comfortable.”

Galaxia was the only one to not be overly cheerful, or build the façade of being kind to every royal she met. She wanted a straight answer, so she’d be straight in her tone. “So, Leere. You and my sister love each other?”

Leere looked Galaxia in the eye. The woman was about as tall as her sister. But her hair was black as the night. She had two tattoos on her neck. One of the Sun and one of the Moon. She sort of reminded Leere of her brother Ralnor in a way. They both had an aura about them that told others they couldn’t be budged. “Yes. I cherish her dearly.”

“You’ve only met recently.”

“Funny how love works, doesn’t it. It gives you life.”

Sunny was about to stand up for Leere, when Galaxia gave a smirk. “Very good answer. Just keep her happy and we’ll get along fine.”

Her sister extended a handshake to Leere, and Sunny was relieved when her lover took it. Leere liked the fire of this woman. “Of course. Didn’t get your name.”

“Galaxia Ingo.”

“Leere Dragmire.”

Sunny introduced the rest of her siblings, happy that Galaxia seemed to approve. “These are my brothers, Apollo and Cosmo. And this is my youngest sister, Luna.”

Luna gave a polite hand shake to Leere. “I’ve seen your preform. You’re really good on stage.”

“Why thank you.”

Sunny rubbed Leere’s hand. “Would you like to come back to our place to have dinner and celebrate?”

Leere looked to the family, who nodded to encourage her. “I’d be honoured.”

Sunny’s smile burned brightly, and she gave Leere another kiss. “Great! Let’s go get you to change to something more comfortable.” The Rancher snapped a finger to her family before her brothers could make a cheeky comment. “We’ll just be ten minutes.”

But that didn’t stop them anyways. “Wow Apollo. Just in ten minutes?”

“Well, they don’t call it a quickie for nothing.”

Sunny rolled her eyes at them. “Get ya families you silly men.”

Leere and Sunny walked hand in hand back to Leere’s bedroom. Sunny’s siblings looked to their father to get his opinion. He simply shrugged at them. “I’m too old to complain. If she makes Sunny happy, who are we to argue?”

“What about the whole ‘family generation’ thing?”

“I’m sure that they’ll figure it out Galaxia. Let’s head home. We’ll have steaks tonight.”

Leere pulled Sunny into her bedroom, giving her another deep kiss. “I’m so happy for you.”

“I’m glad that my families future is secured and we can keep moving forward in the business. Thank you for helping me dear.”

“I wanted to help the woman I love.” Leere pressed another soft kiss to Sunny’s lips.

Sunny held Leere’s shoulders firmly as they kissed lovingly. With a smile, she let go, heading to Leere’s bathroom. “Imma get my makeup off. Feels tacky and sticky. You get changed now.”

“Sure thing.” After Sunny disappeared, Leere was in the middle of getting changed when she heard her roof tile slide open. She nearly gave a loud yelp of surprise when she saw an old friend stopping by.

“Bonegrinder senses that you’ve been awfully happy lately. Must be because you’re finally in the sunshine.”

Leere squinted at him, something very specific bugging her about his wording. Like a buzzer, the realization rang off loudly in her head. Bonegrinder was always a cheeky being, and with him able to see into the future, he spoke in cryptic messages sometimes. It dawned on her that he knew long ago that she’d be together with Sunny. “YOU CHEEKY ASS!”

Sunny yelled from behind the bathroom door. “Everything ok?”

Crap. Leere didn’t want to spring someone like Bonegrinder or any of the Hive on Sunny without plenty of preparation. “Nothing Sunny! I’m just talking with a friend quickly who needed some advice.”

“Okay!”

“Bonegrinder told you didn’t he? He said that you’d find your sunshine.” The Anagari took a finger to play with one of Leere’s locks of hair. “The twins miss your company you know.”

“I’m sure that they’ll have to understand I’m taken now.”

“Yes, yes. Of course.”

“Bonegrinder. You and the rest of the Hive don’t interfere in Lon Lon Ranch’s business, do you?”

“Ah! Bonegrinder loves eating their cows! So succulent and pristine in its flavour.”

“Do you mean buying cut steaks?”

“Why would Bonegrinder by small steaks when he can swallow whole cows?”

Leere grabbed his hand and gave it a light smack. “Enough of that. I won’t tolerate you stealing her cattle in the middle of the night. You can’t do that anymore. You want steak, you buy it like everyone else.”

Bonegrinder gave light pout of the brow, a small chuckle leaving his lips. “Every well. No more whole cows in the middle of the night.”

“I mean it. Or I’ll come down to the underground and give you such a thrashing.”

“Hehehehe, this old snake would love to see you do so~” Bonegrinder gave Leere a light pat on the head. “Will be sure to mark the calendar for your big day. Take care of yourself little porcelain doll.”

Leere wasn’t sure if Bonegrinder was dropping another prediction on her, but before she could say anything, Sunny opened the door, giving the old snake enough time to slither away with a giggle to himself.

“How’d things with your friend go?”

“Good. They, uh, went good.” Leere noticed Sunny’s brows were blonde again, and her hair a little more tussled. “You look natural.”

“Isn’t the line that you look beautiful?” Sunny, with the tilt of her head, eyed Leere with a grin.

“You always look beautiful, makeup or not.”

“See, it’s lines like that that make ya irresistible.” The Rancher took hold of Leere, hugging her close to her chest. Leere purred as she rest her head against her. Sunny took note that Leere hadn’t gotten changed. “What’s taking you so long?”

Leere smiled, knowing the perfect excuse. “I wanted you to watch as I got undressed.”

“Well that’s just playing dirty.”

“I know. You’ll have to get back me later~”

Sunny gave Leere’s bottom a spank for making her have to wait. “Keep making comments like that, and I’ll hogtie you to the bed.”

“Well, wouldn’t want to make your family wait now, would we.”

“No. Which makes you shaking that white bum in my face really hard to resist.”

Leere quit teasing her lover for now, and got changed into her causal attire. A simple shirt and long Hylian skirt. Lastly, because she saw Bonegrinder, she put his scale necklace around her neck. “All done.”

Sunny tilted her head towards the necklace. “That’s really pretty. Where did you get it from.”

“A friend of mine… Actually, same friend you just missed.”

“Oh. Is he one of them Lizalfos people?”

Leere shook her head. “No. Big snake man.”

“You’re friends with a big snake man?”

“Yeah. It’s a long story.”

“Well, we got a long walk and ride back to the ranch. I’d love to hear it.”

Leere felt Sunny’s smile penetrate her soul, and she felt so happy to have someone who just wanted to listen to her. Even though she couldn’t divulge the full details, she could tell her the story in some form. “Years ago, I was a party animal and an active archaeologist. I found this crypt one day that were full of monsters. However, they weren’t monstrous per say.”

“You mean how people could call Moblins monsters, but many won’t hurt a fly? That’s just rumours?”

“Exactly.” Though the Hive could and have hurt people before, some had soft layers underneath their shells if you got close enough to look properly. “They had so many characteristics that made them human. At this time, I just lost a friend of mine. I felt that everyone around me died because they associated themselves with me. So here I find these monsters bigger than the average person, and more durable too. I thought I found the perfect friends.”

“So what happened?”

Leere gave Sunny a light pat as they left the front gate and headed to the stables to reach their horses. “Well, first I had sex with twins. Reeeeeeally kinky twins.”

Sunny raised her eyebrow, than let out a chuckle. “Oh boy. Sounds like a handful.”

“Two pairs for both my hands if you know what I mean. A handful indeed.” Leere stuck her tongue out and briefly allowed herself to be immature by cupping the air with her hands. That got a strong laugh out of Sunny. Giving a sigh, Leere’s memory of first meeting the Hive grew a little more melancholy. “Down there, I also discovered an old temple. I saw things from my future that terrified me. A brief glimpse of all of time. My time. I felt so scared. Had this dread about my own life. So I talked my snake friend into having sex with me. Only male I’ve ever willingly been with. I regret that because I think I only did it because I felt like my life was one big void that needed to be filled. So I tried everything. Drugs, alcohol, sex, and even a little self pain.”

Sunny squeezed Leere’s hand as she watched her lover stare off into the distance. “No one goes through that and comes out to where you are without change.”

“You’re absolutely right about that. I was ready to slowly kill myself if my brother Ralnor did search me out. He told me how my family worried that every time I left, I might never return. Because I always held a darkness in my heart. Most of the time I left, I’d always return scarred by some terror I had to defeat. My friend in the crypt realized this too, and he convinced me to leave with my brother. Afterwards, I checked myself in for rehab and counselling to deal with all my grief and pain. One of the best decisions of my life.”

Sunny was a little surprised. She knew that Leere held a darkness in her heart. It was a little intense to know how deep things got with her, but she was happy knowing Leere pulled herself out of that place. “What you did was very healthy.”

“One cannot help others, until they help themselves. This world is full of those that are full of pain. They often lash out, or hurt themselves, and they tell themselves that its justified. No more. That no longer applies to me. I see the force I am capable of being, and I hold my pain tight, but I will no longer let it bleed me or others.”

Sunny nodded fondly towards Leere, and held her hand. “Golly. You’re a smart woman Leere. And you’re right. When people are in pain, they do often think about how they can lash out to feel better. To quell that aching heart they feel.”

Leere stopped Sunny from getting on the horse. “You speak from experience.”

“I told you once before my mother died during the Solar Eclipse. I felt… so empty that day. That when the Sun went out, and the fire came crashing from the sky like a meteorite storm, I lost my own light for a while. I didn’t know how to deal with that pain at first. I didn’t know where to put it. But I looked around me and I saw I wasn’t the only one in pain. My whole family was going through sadness and hurt. And so were so many other survivors who felt the pain that I felt. So instead of throwing my anger out towards others, everyone decided to come together. If we were going to be hurting, we wouldn’t hurt alone. We’d have understanding and love to come together.” Sunny wiped her face of tiny tears forming, giving a light smile to Leere. “Thinking about her even now gets me emotional. I wish she was here. But I’m sure she’s smiling down now as one of them stars in the night.”

Leere squeezed Sunny’s hand, her heart going out to her. “The spirits of loved ones, regardless if they are in the same plane as us, will always look out for us. I’m sure your mother is looking after you all the time.”

Sunny wiped her tears once more as she pulled Leere in for a tender hug. “Thank you Leere. For opening up and being supportive.”

“And thank you as well.”

Leere stood on her tippy toes to kiss Sunny, and both gave each other another tight hug before releasing. The princess walked to her horse and had to use a step ladder to get on top easily. Rinku made it look so easy. Sunny was a natural as she hopped on her stead. “You ok there?”

“Yep. I’m lucky Blackbolt knows how to stay still.”

Sunny laughed at that. “Without that step ladder, you reckon you’d triple your time getting on that horse?”

“Bah, don’t patronize me missy. I might be small, but I think I know how to handle a horse.”

Each woman smiled at each other, and with a flick of the reigns, they rode off to the ranch, side by side.

https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/183811908896/filling-the-emptiness-ch-4-in-love Previous Ch.

https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/184658907816/filling-the-emptiness-ch-6-big-changes Next Ch.

#Leere #Sunny #Filling the Emptiness #Love #Legend of Zelda #Comments loved!#Going to start editing in Next and Previous chapters!

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gray-autumn-sky · 5 years

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Happiness Can’t Be Arranged, Chapter 30

Regina’s still giggling as she makes her way out of the back room and already she can hear Ruby’s sewing machine whirring. Her cheeks are warm with embarrassment and she’s tingly with excitement. She’s never been one to shy away from imprudent behaviors; in fact, most people who’d known her long enough would say she gravitated toward them. More times than not, she acted on feeling, doing what felt right in the moment, consequences be damned. But even then, she kept it to herself, involving only those who were absolutely necessary. In front of others, she was proper and dignified.

So, asking Ruby’s assistance in seducing her husband was a bit out of her comfort zone, but not so far removed that she couldn’t bring herself to do it or be excited about the result.

The lace she’d selected for the robe had a pretty pattern of fleur de lis and she picked a red satin ribbon to trim the edges. Ruby sketched out a design with bishop sleeves and suggested using the red ribbon as cuffs, but she’d held her breath and shook her head, explaining she wanted the sleeves to be less confining. Ruby blinked, and for a moment just stared at her as understanding set in, and as her cheeks turned pink, Regina bit down on her bottom lip and looked away as Ruby stammer through an awkward so trumpet sleeves would be better, then.

When the sketch was complete, Ruby took her measurements to ensure the robe would fit more snugly than her dresses, and she could barely look at her when she told her she’d had to measure her bust… without barriers. Slowly, Ruby helped her out of her dress, then locked the door as Regina stepped up onto the stool before the mirror. Her hands trembled as Ruby measured, barely making eye-contact as she did so—and then every now and then, one of them would erupt in giggles and set the other off.

In the end, though, she was happy with the decisions they made. The lace would pool around her feet with a chapel-style train. The robe would be snug around her shoulders and breasts, then taper away from her body, in almost shapeless form once it reached her hips. The mid-section was a bit more fitted and the ribbon would be sewn along the edge with another going the opposite way to create a sash to close up the robe, if she chose to—a feature she had no intentions of using, at least not for their assumed purpose.

But of course, she couldn’t actually bring herself to admit that particular detail.

Ruby helped her back into her dress, fastening up the back as she explained that once the lace was cut, it wouldn’t take long to make—after all, she was simply trimming fabric and sewing in darts. She held her breath as Ruby told her she could probably have it to her that very evening—and that set her heart aflutter.

She offered a sincere thanks as her cheeks flushed. Ruby just smiled and nodded and thanked her for delivering Belle’s letters. Then, as she made her way out of the backroom, she grinned as Ruby tore open the first letter, losing herself in Belle’s note and no longer thinking about their awkward exchange.

Now, she stands at the back of the shop, watching as Robin leans against the counter and chats with Granny Lucas.

For a moment, all she can do is stand there and watch.

He’s smiling in that charming way that often makes her blush—fidgeting with a bobbin as he talks about her nimble fingers and incredible talent—and she giggles softly to herself at the realization that he’s flirting.

Robin says something that can’t quite make out, but it elicits a hearty laugh from Granny, and again, a giggle bubbles up from her chest as Granny swats at his arm, obviously enjoying whatever he’s said.

She catches Robin’s gaze and he offers her a quick wink before looking back to Granny and whispering something low.

“You’re a lucky one, you know that?” Granny calls as she crosses the room toward them. “You got a good egg for yourself.”

“I know it,” Regina says as she reaches them. A grin draws onto her lips as Robin links his arm through hers. “I think I’ll keep him.”

Robin offers a laugh as he murmurs a Thanks, and Granny nods, her eyes still fixed on Robin.

“I don’t usually like it when my customers bring in their husbands,” Granny says, slowly looking from Robin to Regina. “There aren’t many places around here that are a woman’s place, and I like this to be one.”

“Of course—”

“Most of the time men come in here nosing around and—” Granny’s voice halts and she laughs. “Well, that doesn’t much matter. The point is, I like when you come in.” Regina grins as Robin beams. “There’s not many men who flatter me.”

Robin’s brow arches. “Well, I can’t imagine why.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s something to do with the gray hair and wrinkly skin, not to mention the calloused fingers.” Granny laughs again and shakes her head. “I appreciate you being so willing to humor an old woman. It’s been a long time since anyone’s even bothered.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” he says, quickly offering Regina a wink before looking wide-eyed at Granny. “Highly doubt that.”

“I’ve been a widow longer than I’ve been anything else. So, yes, it’s been awhile.”

“Did you never want to marry again?” Regina asks with a genuine curiosity.

“No,” Granny admits. “Never.” She shrugs and looks between them. “I like my independence, and as much as I hate to say it, the only way for a woman like me to be independent is to be a widow.” Her smile fades as her eyes shift to focus on Regina. “Being a young widow is hard and I say my independence is my reward for enduring it.” Regina’s brow furrows as a grin twists onto her lips. “As much as your reward is a second, good marriage.”

“I am quite the reward,” Robin teases as he nudges her.

Regina laughs softly as she bites down her lip, her eyes turning to Robin as she considers how true Granny’s words are. She is lucky and she doesn't consider that enough. “He’s alright, I suppose.”

Robin leans in and presses a soft kiss to her cheek, and again, her cheeks warm at the public affection. Granny just smiles, not giving her any reason to pull away, so she leans into it a little, enjoying the sweetness.

“Did you pick out something stunning?”

“I… I think so.”

“I’d ask if I’ll like it, but I always think you look beautiful. You could wear a sack and I’d think it was gorgeous on you.”

Her cheeks flush deeper. “I think you’ll like it.”

Granny just shakes her head and grins. They say their goodbyes as she continues winding thread around bobbins, and as they make their way out of the shop, Regina explains that she’s been thinking of commissioning Ruby to update the boys’ wardrobes. Robin agrees that it’s needed—Henry’s breeches are looking a bit snug at the knees and Roland’s been tugging at his sleeves—and she decides that once they’re back at Sherwood, she’ll write.

Robin is quick to point out that they could easily go back, but Regina disagrees, wanting to write as an excuse to send Belle to Ruby. As they round the corner he murmurs something about her being a hopeless romantic and she rolls her eyes.

It’s lighthearted and easy, and she doesn't want it to end, so she asks if he’s hungry and suggests they have luncheon in town. Robin agrees easily, also not ready to return to Sherwood, and together, they turn in the direction of their favorite pub.

“I almost forgot to ask,” she says, looking over at him. “How did your meeting go?”

“Meeting?”

“Yes, you went to a meeting and I went to the dress shop.”

“Ah, right.”

“Are you avoiding—”

“No, no,” he quickly interjects. “I just… wanted to put it out of mind.”

“Didn’t it go well?”

“I… I don’t actually know,” he admits, looking back at her with an incredulous look. “I have no idea.”

“How can you—”

“Gold was… speaking in riddles,” he sighs. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Did he have anything to say about Zelena?”

Robin shrugs. “Just… that I should count my pennies.”

“Pennies—”

“I assume that’s his way of telling me to look out for my inheritance.”

“Possibly,” she agrees. “Did he say anything else?”

“Nothing that made sense.”

“Oh—”

“I knew I shouldn’t have gone to him and paid for—” Robin stops and sighs. “It’s all been a waste of time and energy, and only caused me anxiety. I know no more than I did going in.”

Regina’s brow furrows. “Did he… riddle anything else?”

“Nothing coherent.”

“Was he drunk?”

“Perhaps.”

“Oh, well… maybe…”

“He kept singing sins of the mother over and over.”

“What?” Regina’s face scrunches. “Zelena’s mother?”

“I don’t know.”

“She’s dead.” Robin only shrugs. “And Zelena has no children.”

“I know. I told you none of it made sense.”

“That’s all he said? That and to count your pennies?”

“And something about finding strange bedfellows.”

“Well, that one makes sense,” Regina says, sighing as she thinks of her father-in-law’s sickly sweet relationship. “I wish it didn’t.”

“Yeah—”

“Nothing else?”

“The last thing was something about two sides of a coin and having no preference over either of them. I didn’t catch the exact words, I was too busy trying to figure out what the hell was happening.”

“A penny?” she asks, a grin tugging up at one corner of her mouth. “A two-sided penny?”

Robin’s eyes roll. “Hell if I know.”

“Well, I’m sorry you didn’t get any answers.”

“I am, too,” Robin admits as they wind down the road toward the public house they’ve occasionally frequented when in town. “But at least it’s done and over.”

“It is?”

Robin nods. “I paid for information. He thinks he gave it to me. We’re done.”

“And good riddance.”

“Here, here,” Robin calls out as they approach the pub. “Now, can we please talk about something else? I’m getting a headache.”

“Alright,” she says, easily agreeing as a little laugh bubbles up from her chest. “How about how you were shamelessly flirting with Granny Lucas in front of me.”

“Are you jealous?”

“No,” Regina admits. “It was… sweet.”

“I like her. She’s a good woman.”

“She is.”

“And I do like her.”

“That was clear.”

“I like people who like you.” Regina’s eyes widen as Robin reaches for the door, pulling it open. She doesn't reply; she’s not quite sure what to say, but nonetheless, she smiles. “Come on,” he murmurs. “I’m starved and I can smell the corned beef from here.”

They step inside the familiar, dimly lit pub and she looks around, spotting an open table by the window—and as she looks around, she can’t help but notice the bartender’s clenched jaw. She watches as the man, who normally smiles when they enter, tosses down a rag and rounds the bar, walking briskly toward them.

He looks upset, she notes as her stomach lurches. Upset with her.

Though she can’t quite pinpoint why that is, she’s sure that they’re about to find out.

In a fleeting thought, she tells herself that she’s overreacting, that she’s misreading something. After all, they’ve been here a handful of times and never had there been a problem. They often stopped in for a drink or a quick sandwich, they occasionally brought in the boys for a scoop of ice cream or some raspberry cordial, and never had anyone taken issue with her presence. She thought back to the last time they were there, just before heading north to the Hunting Lodge for the Harvest Ball and nothing had seemed off then. They were easily seated, the boys were given extra sweets, and the very bartender that was marching toward them now looking so sullen and serious had spent the better part of an hour standing at their table chatting with Robin about some ideas for renovations.

Nothing had changed since then, she reasons.

But that wasn’t exactly true.

All of those times—the last included—were before Zelena’s little dinner party, before her dirty laundry was publically aired for everyone and anyone to hear and gossip over. And the look the bartender wears is one she’s seen before. It was the one the housekeeper at Dragon Head wore when she handed in her resignation just after Regina and Henry came back to live there, it was the one the Ladies’ Maid who’d dressed her on her wedding night had worn as she stared at her through the mirror as she hesitated to touch her as though the scandal could somehow be caught, and it was the same as the one Celeste wore whenever she entered a room. It was a look filled with disgust and disdain, and a look she’d earned.

Robin extends his hand, as he always does, but the bartender shakes his head—and her stomach flops.

This isn’t good.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a low voice. “I’m going to have to ask that you leave.”

“Leave?” Robin repeats, his brow furrowing as he looks to Regina, as if he didn’t hear the bartender correctly. “You’ve more than enough free tables—”

“I’m sorry.”

Regina watches as Robin blinks. “I don’t understand.”

“I… can’t seat you.”

Her heart beats a little faster as the bartender’s eyes shift to her as if to explain.

It’s not that he can’t seat Robin; it’s that he won’t seat her.

She understands, but Robin doesn’t.

“Are you refusing me service?” Robin asks, obviously offended and clearly stunned. “Why on earth would you refuse me service? I’ve always paid my tab and—”

“I am sorry, but I… I can’t allow…” Again, his eyes shift to her and again, Robin doesn’t catch it. Regina feels her own eyes sink closed as she wills herself to keep her tears at bay and prays that Robin lets it go, but he doesn’t. “I am sorry.”

“Do you have a reason?” The bartender hesitates and though she can’t see him, she can feel his eyes on her. “Do you—” Robin’s voice halts. “Oh.”

“If you’ll just—”

“You won’t seat me because I’m with my wife.”

“Yes. This isn’t… that kind of establishment.”

“What kind?” Robin counters, anger rising into his voice. “The kind where I own the property that this pub sits on? The kind where my name is carved into the sign out front in a town named after my family home?”

Regina’s eyes open and she draws in a breath. She wishes she could shrink away, that she could disappear. A few men have turned to look, obviously aware that something is amiss, but she refused to let herself look at them, instead focusing on the floor. “Please don’t make a scene,” she whispers in a voice that’s barely audible—and in a voice Robin doesn't seem to hear.

“You can’t refuse me service. I own this pub.”

She can tell it's difficult for the bartender, and she wonders if he’s gotten complaints the handful of other times she’s eaten there. “Actually,” he says, his voice still low. “Your father does.”

That only makes it worse.

Robin’s face goes red and his jaw clenched tighter, and again she murmurs a quiet let’s just go that he doesn't seem to hear.

But the bartender does, and he looks guilty or maybe just ashamed.

She thinks of all the times she’s been here, long before Robin came into her life and long before the bartender before them worked in it. As a young girl, her father often brought her here for a limeade and biscuits whenever her mother was being particularly rough on her. They’d sit at the bar and he’d have a beer, while she happily sipped her drink and kicked her feet against the stool. They’d talk about horses or whatever her lessons were focusing on at that point, and Dragon Head and Cora’s anger would seem a thousand miles away.

After she’d grown up, she came to realize the pub was her father’s home-away-from-home. It wasn’t uncommon for him to spend an entire evening drinking and playing billiards or even a few days in a room upstairs with a good book. Undoubtedly, a great deal of money had been spent in this pub by her family over the years, and though she was firm in the belief that a person shouldn’t be allowed to pay their way through life, this somehow seemed so unfair.

But then, this was just another consequence of her choices.

It had nothing to do with her father or Robin or Robin’s father. It had everything to do with her.

“Did my father tell you to refuse us?”

Regina draws in a short breath. “Robin, please…”

“No,” the bartender answers, “But I have my principles, just as your father does.”

“Principles,” Robin scoffs. “I’m sure.”

“I can’t have… certain types of people here,” he explains. “I don’t want people talking, and I can’t afford to lose business because my pub is… marred.”

“Marred—”

“Tainted.”

“Because of… my wife?”

The bartender offers a half nod, and again, her eyes sink closed to keep her tears from falling. “Please, Robin,” she says again, this time an octave louder. “Let’s go.” Her eyes flutter open just in time to see Robin look to her, and just in time to see everything about his demeanor change—he feels sorry for her, or pities her, or maybe he’s just embarrassed of her. “Please. Don’t make a scene. Just leave it alone.. We’ll go.”

“Alright,” he murmurs as he takes her hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “But this isn’t over.”

“Robin—”

“Thank you.”

Robin’s eyes narrow as the bartender’s shoulders straighten. “I’m not giving this up for your benefit. Let’s be clear, and I mean it when I say it’s not over.”

“I’m sure you’ll do what you must,” the bartender says, “just as I’ll do what I must.”

Robin’s jaw clenches and Regina’s fingers tighten around his hand, giving it a little tug as she takes a step back, desperately wanting to leave. Her face is hot and her stomach is in knots and the longer she stands there idly, watching the two men staring each other down, the harder she finds that it is to breathe.

“Please, Robin…”

Finally, Robin breaks the bartender’s gaze and nods, looking to her. She takes another step back and he steps back with her and then, as they turn to the door, Robin freezes and she follows his gaze to the bar where Jefferson Hatfield sits, drinking.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Robin glares at the bartender whose shoulders straight as his chin tips up. “I don’t make the rules.”

“Like hell you don’t. I—”

“Can we please just go?’

Robin looks to her, his jaw tight and his eyes filled with anger. Silently, she pleads with him—pleading to go without issue, to not make a scene, to not make this whole situation worse—and he seems to understand her. He offers a little nod and gives her hand a squeeze, and her heart is beating so fast and so loud, she doesn’t quite catch Robin’s last words to the bartender before they leave.

“I’m sorry,” she says in a burst as soon as the door closes. “I’m—”

“You did nothing wrong.”

“Well, that depends on—”

“No,” he says, cutting in as he pulls her toward him. “It depends on nothing. He was wrong.”

For a moment, she lets him hold her, hoping it’ll calm her down. But all she can think of is how much she’s complicated his life—he can’t even go and have a simple drink without causing a stir. Her stomach flops and the tears she’s been holding back come rushing to her eyes.

She pushes away. “I think we should go.”

“There are other—”

“No,” she cuts in, her voice rising over his as she shakes her head. “That was too embarrassing. I can’t do that, not again.”

“Regina, you—”

She bristles, feeling like she might be sick. “Can we please just go back to Sherwood? I’ve already been away from Henry for too long. What if he’s sicker or—”

“Alright,” Robin says, easily agreeing. “We’ll go back.”

She nods as he takes her hand, pulling her into his side as they walk toward their carriage. He rubs her arm and tries to make small talk about the boys, but she can still hear the anger behind his voice and her stomach feels too queasy to respond. So they end up riding back in silence as she stares out at the countryside, hating herself.

_____

Robin sighs as he watches the bedroom door close behind Regina. He falls back against the wall, tipping back his head and wondering how they went from enjoying such a carefree day to… this.

The whole way back from town, Regina didn’t speak. Instead, she stared blankly ahead, refusing to look at him. He could see her flushed cheeks and teary eyes, and he didn’t quite understand it.

Of course, he understands why she’s upset. He’s upset, too. What happened that afternoon at the pub was unnecessary and uncalled for. He hated that she bared the brunt of the guilt for what happened between her and Jefferson and he hated that she was expected to hide away and adjust her life while he was able to keep on living his life as if nothing happened. He’d been over it again and again, and though he wasn’t exactly an unbiased party, he couldn’t see how she was the one to blame.

Yet, every time that one night cropped up, it was thrown in her face, ripping off the bandage and making her wounds new again.

All while this time, Jefferson sat back and sipped his scotch.

But she knew that she didn’t have to be embarrassed, not with him, and she knew that he knew all of her secrets, that he didn’t hold them against her. She didn’t have to clam up or avert his eyes in fear of judgement. She didn’t have to accept the so-called consequences of her sins without complaint. She didn’t have to tolerate it. Though he knew his opinion smacked with the privilege that came with his status—the privilege that came with their status—people in town didn’t have the right to throw her lowest moments in her face, they didn’t have a right to deny her service, and they didn’t have a right.

But she let them.

And, now, he realized, so did he.

By turning around and leaving, he let them use her mistakes against her. He let them think it was acceptable to deny her, to speak about her as they did. He let them think that they had the upper hand.

“You look… like hell,” Mal says as she walks down the long corridor that connects the boys’ rooms to theirs and wipes her hands on the white apron tied around her waist. “You’re not catching the plague, are you?”

“No, it’s… it’s something else,” he tells her. “How’s Henry?”

“Definitely on the mend.”

“And Roland? Still no symptoms?”

“Just boredom.” A grin twists onto Mal’s lips. “Nothing’s fun without Henry.”

In spite of himself, a grin tugs up on his lips. “You’d never know that it wasn’t that long ago when Roland was an only child.”

“How easily he forgets.”

Robin nods. He likes that his son seems to have forgotten that detail of his childhood. “They get on well. Regina and I are lucky.”

“You are,” Mal agrees. “The girls I was last with were always at each other’s throats. They were little hyenas.”

“Hyenas—”

Mal nods. “The littlest one was sweet, but her older sisters were… well, for lack of better description, catty little bitches.”

Robin’s brow arches. “You don’t sugar-coat things, do you?”

“I try not to,” Mal tells him, her shoulders straightening. “There doesn’t seem much of a point in selling a false version of things.” She shrugs. “They were pretty. Their awful personalities hardly mattered in their world.”

“So, they married and—”

“Are the mistresses of their own houses, probably raising their own terrible children.”

Robin laughs at that. He appreciates the candor, especially now. “Weren’t they… practically related to you?”

“Mm, practically, yes. But not quite, and even then, I’ve no reason to make family seem better than they are. There’s little point. Everyone makes mistakes, everyone has flaws, myself included. Why pretend we don’t?”

Robin’s eyes narrow as he stares at Mal, considering her words. Since coming to Sherwood, Mal has been Regina’s ultimate defender. She’s looked out for her and protected her, she’s stood up for her and given her a friend in the house. It hadn’t quite occurred to him that everyone in Mal’s good graces hadn’t been given the same benefit that Regina had, and he wondered why. But he wouldn’t ask; he didn’t care enough to. After all, he liked that his wife had an ally, and that was that.

“That’s… an interesting perspective.”

“And an unpopular one.”

“It shouldn’t be though,” Robin tells her. “That sort of honesty could do the world some good.”

“Perhaps,” Mal shrugs. “But I’ve never cared much about popularity. If I did, I wouldn’t be where I am now.” She pauses and he bristles, wondering if that’s about taking a position at Sherwood. “If I did the popular thing, I’d be married to a pig farmer two towns over.”

Robin blinks a couple of times. “What?”

“I was promised to someone and… I ran away and went to school instead.”

“I thought you had your father’s blessing to pursue a career?”

She grins. “And to run away.”

“Ah—”

“Not that I needed it. I’d have done it anyway.”

Robin grins, thinking again of Regina. She once had that same spark, but unlike Mal, life had too effectively tamped it down and he wondered if it could ever be rekindled. He thought he saw signs of it—here and there, usually when they were away from Sherwood—and he’d seen it earlier that afternoon in Granny’s shop, but then, as always, it was stomped on.

“So, are you going to tell me why you’re sulking or are you going to make me guess?”

Robin blinks. “I’m hardly sulk—”

“Roland does the same thing when he’s mad.”

“Oh.”

“What happened?” she asks, her voice softer as she nods to the closed bedroom door. “Does it have something to do with the reason you’re out here and not in there? Or something to do with the fact that Regina’s all but vanished?”

“She... hasn’t vanished,” he sighs. “She’s laying down.”

“Is she well?”

Robin shrugs. “Just a bad day.”

“So, she isn’t sick—”

“No,” he confirms. “Neither of us are sick.”

“If I make you some tea, will you tell me about it?” Robin’s eye narrow as a soft grin edges onto Mal’s lips. “Another thing you have in common with your son.”

Robin laughs softly and sighs, then nods and follows her down the corridor to the small sitting room outside her bedroom. It’s a tight space that fits little more than a table, chairs and a stove, but Mal moves around it easily as she reaches for a second tea cup that sits on a shelf above the stove.

He sits down when she asks him to, and looks through the open door to her bedroom, finding it tidy and warm. He remembers the pains Regina went to to get it ready, and how she and Belle had raided the attic trying to make the room look cozier than it did when it belonged to Celeste. Mal seems to have added some personal touches—a quilt and a tiny little portrait of whom he can only assume is Rose—and the open window framed in curtains shows off a relatively nice view of the estate’s property.

“So, what happened?” she asks, joining him at the table and pouring the tea. “Everything was fine when the two of you left, and you’re not sick.”

“No, not sick,” he reiterates with a sigh. “Um, so we had some business to attend to in town.”

“Yes, I remember that part.”

“Right,” he murmurs. “Well, Regina went for a dress-fitting and I ran another errand.”

“Alright. So you went one way and she went another…”

“And we rendezvoused for luncheon.”

“Nice.”

“Except not.”

“No?”

He shakes his head. “We went to the public house in town—”

“I remember it. My father used to go there.”

Robin nods, his jaw tightening again and he feels heat rising up the back of his neck. “We were refused service.”

“On what grounds!?” Mal demands, matching his outrage.

“Regina.”

“Regi—oh.”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve gone there before?”

“Countless times.”

“With Regina?”

“Yes,” he says again. “Often, actually.”

“And you’ve never not been seated before?”

“No.”

“What changed?” Robin sighs and his brow arches as he watches as understanding settles in Mal’s eyes, remembering what happened weeks before at Zelena’s little dinner party. “I could kill that wicked, red-devil.”

Robin nods. “Apparently, it’s not that sort of establishment. The barkeep didn’t want gossip spreading.”

“Yes, but all the respectable ladies hang around public houses to do their cross-stitch.”

“And the worst of it was that, all the while, Jefferson Hatfield was sitting at the bar, drinking.”

“That bastard.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he murmurs. “Well, with a few additional expletives added in.”

Mal’s jaw tightens. “I held back.”

“I just… I was so stunned.”

“What did you do?”

Robin sighs. “Channelled by inner Richard Locksley and made a threat.”

Mal takes a sip of her tea, looking so strangely demure as she says, “To disembowel him? That’s what I’ve had threatened… and meant.”

“Uh, no. Just… to, um… revoke his tenancy.” He frowns, feeling oddly inadequate. “I wanted to haul off and punch him, or—”

“But Regina would have done the same to you. She hates making a scene,” Mal tells him, sighing as her eyes momentarily press close. “The after effect of being raised by Cora Mills. She hates a scene.”

He nods. He knows that.

And he hates that whenever she goes, she seems to cause one ensuring that she’ll never publicly be comfortable in her own skin and never feel fully at ease.

Robin takes her through the day, sparing no detail, and he feels an odd mix of validation and inadequacy as Mal listens and adds her opinions.

But before they can get too far into the discussion, Henry’s head peaks into the sitting room as he calls Mal’s name.

She’s up in a second, her anger fading as she goes to him and he tells her that he’s hungry.

Robin stands, making his presence known, and he scoops up Henry (and his dragon) as Mal goes down to the kitchen to scrounge for some sort of bland snack—a task that shouldn’t be too hard, given his father’s distaste of flavor.

“Where’s my mama?” Henry asks as Robin carries him.

“Laying down.”

“Is she sick?” Henry asks. “Did I get her sick?”

“Oh, no. She… just a had a little headache.”

Henry nods. “There’s a powder for that, you know, and it tastes like chalk.”

Robin grins as they enter into the nursery. “Sounds like you’ve got some first-hand experiences with that.”

Henry frowns. “I’ve had too many powders lately.”

“I’ll agree to that. Being sick is no fun.”

“None!” Henry agrees, sighing. “Roland’s not here.”

“Still not allowed in?”

“Not yet,” Henry tells him, frowning again. “I even miss my lessons.”

“Well,” Robin murmurs, pushing his hand up to the boy’s forehead and finding it cool. “Why don’t we get you into some proper clothes and see if we can set up a game—”

“Can we go on a treasure hunt!?” Henry asks, his hazel eyes wide. “Please?”

“I was… thinking something with a bit less activity.”

“Oh.”

“Like checkers, or chess.”

“Mal’s been teaching me and Rol—” Henry’s voice stops abruptly and clears his throat. “I mean, Roland and I… or…” He sighs and looks helplessly to Robin. “Or is it me? I can never remember. Ever.”

“I think you’re thinking a little too hard about it and I also think I remember hating learning grammar.”

“You did?”

Robin nods. “But don’t tell Mal.”

“I won’t,” Henry giggles.

Robin sets him on his bed and picks out some clothes, noting that Regina’s right, his breeches are a bit snug. Nonetheless, he helps Henry gets dressed, allowing him to wear just his socks to the sitting room where Roland’s been camped out on his own for the day. Robin takes his hand and Henry takes his dragon’s hand, and all of them join Roland.

Roland immediately lights up when the door opens and bounds toward Henry, rambling on about watercolors and German and arithmetic. He reaches for his brother’s hand and pulls him to the desk, showing off a series of papers that Henry only grins at.

Robin gets out a chess set and sets it up, then calls the boys over to join him. Henry sits on one side of the table and he holds Roland in his lap on the other, and when Mal joins them, she sits beside Henry—and Roland mutters something about automatically losing now that Mal’s involved in the game, a detail that makes Henry beam.

They’re half way through the game when the sitting room’s door opens, and Regina peeks in, smiling meekly as her eyes meet Robin’s.

“Are you feeling better, Mama?” Henry asks, brightening as he looks to her. “Because I am!”

“I am so glad to hear that,” she says, coming in and closing the door behind her. “And yes, I am much better.”

“Are you really?” Robin asks, as she joins them at the table.

She nods, offering him a shy, but genuine grin. “I am.”

“Good.”

“Glad to hear it,” Mal echoes as she rises. “Now, you sit here. I was just keeping your seat warm.”

“Oh, I’m rubbish at chess. You should—”

“Oh, great,” Henry mutters under his breath as Roland giggles. “I’m gonna lose now.”

Regina makes a joke of it as she slides into the seat Mal had just occupied—and then, as the game resumes, she makes a comment about being happy in her little bubble with the three of them, and he feels his anger bubbling again.

Not at her, but at the fact that the only place she seems able to relax is in these rooms, that the rest of the world is too unfriendly, and that a few desperate and youthful decisions will forever confine her.

_____

They spend a quiet evening in with the boys, playing games, drawing and telling stories. Though normally, this sort of thing would drive the boys mad and have them practically climbing the walls, on this night, it works for all of them. While Henry’s feeling better, he’s still a bit weak, and Roland’s simply glad for the company of his mother and brother. And for them, it’s nice to just relax and try to let the events of earlier in the day go.

For Regina, it seems to work.

By the time dinner rolls around, she’s back to her usual self, smiling and laughing with the boys—and he has to remind himself how good she is at faking her emotions for their sake.

For the most part—though, he’s not sure if it’s for better or worse—they manage to enjoy the evening and he’s able to forget.

But every now and then, at the most inopportune of times, he finds himself thinking of Jefferson, sitting at the bar and drinking, enjoying himself while Regina was denied; and then, the thought was followed by the memory of Regina’s tears.

For awhile, he’s able to shake it, but each time it comes back harder and stays longer, and eventually, he finds it impossible to focus on anything else.

Which only makes him angrier.

“You know,” he begins, distracted. “We came back in such a hurry, I don’t know that I locked the stables.”

Regina blinks. “The stables—”

“Well, the stalls.”

“So, you’re telling me it’s possible the horses are… running free?”

“That sounds fun!” Roland says, innocently looking between them. “Can we go and wrangle them?”

Robin laughs gently, averting Regina’s gaze and focusing on Roland’s wide eyes. “No, but I think I may have to.”

“We can’t come?” Roland frowns, pouting out his bottom lip. “But it sounds fun, and we haven’t had fun all week.”

Regina’s eyes narrow. She doesn’t look convinced.

“I’ll just run down and check—”

“And if you’re not back, you’re… wrangling the horses?” Regina asks, her brow arching. She knows that he’s lying. “You’re seriously going to—”

“Precisely.”

“This isn’t fair,” Roland whines. “I never get to do anything.”

“Well, if that’s not a sign that it’s nearly bedtime, I don’t know what is,” Regina says, sighing and shaking her head as she turns her attention to the boys. “Let’s go get you both changed.”

“I’ll be back soon,” Robin says pressing a quick kiss to her cheek, then tussling the hair on top of both boys’ heads. “Promise.”

Regina offers a curt nod while Roland grumbles and Henry blinks up at her with hooded eyes—and once more, she chooses to focus on them rather than him and his obvious lie. Roland continues to grumble as she pauses to hoist Henry onto her hip, then she laughs gently and takes Roland by the hand, taking them back to the nursery. For a moment, he just stands there, watching them go and wondering if he really wants to leave them but no sooner than he questions it, he thinks of Jefferson drinking and having a good time, likely playing darts or billiards, gambling and playing cards, and he thinks of Regina’s embarrassed tears—tears cried on account of him.

He bristles as Regina starts to hum the beginnings of a lullaby, and he hates that she always has to be so guarded. He watches her press a kiss to Henry’s forehead as his head falls to her shoulder and he cuddles to her, and all he can think as he watches them is how unfair life has been to her—unfair to her while rewarding Jefferson.

As he turns away from the nursery, his fists clench as heat rises up the back of his neck—and despite his best efforts to convince himself that all he wants to do is clear the air and have a conversation with the barkeep, he knows deep down that’s not what’s going to happen.

It’s not what he wants to happen.

And if Jefferson Hatfield is still there—there, freely enjoying himself—he’ll be having more than just a conversation with him.

He takes a shortcut through the woods and when he arrives into town, he can see the pub aglow. As he draws closer, he feels himself growing angrier; and as he draws closer, he can hear cheers and laughter coming from it. It’s a busy night and as he jumps down from his horse, hastily tying him to a post, he sees several regulars gathered at the tables and at the bar. When he scans the crowd, he sees neither the bartender who denied them service nor Jefferson.

Someone else is schlepping drinks and someone else is sitting in Jefferson’s place, and for a moment, he just stands there, unsure of what he wants to do. But as he stands there, sorting out his thoughts and feelings, he spots a smoky corner where a card game seems to be underway. At first, he’s not sure why he zeroed in on that particular table, then he watches a man stand and toss down his cards in a huff, and as he grabs his beer and stalks away, he sees Jefferson, sitting back and smiling smugly as he collects his earnings.

It’s as if everyone else senses his rage and as soon as he steps forward, a pathway is formed.

As Robin walks toward Jefferson, he feels his cheeks redden with anger and his fists clench. With every step and with a rapid fire pace, he thinks of Regina—the way she’d focused on the floor, refusing to make eye contact and wishing she could disappear, the way she’d refused to leave Sherwood after the stunt Zelena and Jefferson pulled at the dinner party, the way she expected him to distance himself as so many had done.

He thinks, then, of the story she shared—how desperate she’d been to find a way to support herself and Henry, how she felt she’d had no other options, how all other options had failed. And he thinks about the position that Jefferson had been in, too. He knew her and still, he took advantage of her.

Regina and Jefferson had never run in the same social circle—the tension between the Locksleys and the Mills created two factions that kept them separated, and Regina always kept herself on the periphery of high society—but still, he knew who she was and the hardships she endured. Daniel’s death had spread like scandalous rumor through the town and through the countryside and with it came whisperings of what would happen to Regina and her son—to Cora Mills’ daughter and grandson. People speculated that she might fall to ruin, others assumed Henry and Cora would funnel money to her somehow, and others speculated that she’d create a whole new life for herself in a distant place where no one knew the scandal that surrounded her.

That speculation usually ended in one of two ways—that she either got what she deserved or that her life worked itself out as it usually did for those born into her position. Nonetheless, for most who speculated, Regina Mills’ fate was out of sight and out of mind.

But for Jefferson, she was anything but that.

He knew that life hadn’t worked itself out for her and he knew how desperate she was. He had an opportunity that few in their social circle did—he had an opportunity to help. And instead, he took advantage, only thinking of himself and his own pleasure, and then, then when it was denied, he made an already terrible situation worse. He spread rumors and lies, making sure everyone knew just how low Regina Mills had sunk. No longer did they need to speculate.

So, finally, when she did find reprieve, when help did come to her, she returned to Dragon Head shrouded in more shame than when she’d left it.

Most could forgive a youthful dalliance and most would agree that Daniel’s death was sufficient penance for her sins, but thanks to Jefferson, she had a new set of sins to live down—and this time, as they’d been reminded that very afternoon, most could not easily forgive.

Jefferson barely looks up as he reaches him, likely assuming that Robin’s another man looking to win back his money in a game of cards. His lips part and he smiles smugly, looking like he’s about to say something crass, but before he can, Robin’s fist smashes against his jaw.

A gasp and murmur travel through the pub as Jefferson is knocked to the floor. Robin’s shoulder’s square as he watches Jefferson squirm and struggle to find his feet. He’s vaguely aware of the forming crowd, but he can’t focus on them; instead, he watches as Jefferson gets up. He touches his fingers to his busted lip, and looks back at Robin with wild eyes—and for a moment, all Robin can do is scoff at his confusion—then, as he watches Jefferson’s fist tighten and his confusion turn into a little laugh, Robin feels his rage building up again as his shoulders instinctively square, ready for a fight.

He takes another swing, this time, only knocking Jefferson back a couple staggering of steps—and that’s the hit that seems to piss him off. Again, Jefferson touches his lip, this time finding it bloody, and as he looks at the blood on his fingertips, his fist begins to ball up. Jefferson charges forward, but he’s too drunk to keep his balance, and when Robin steps slightly to the right, Jefferson turns into the edge of the table. It stops him for a brief moment, but it’s long enough for Robin to get in one more good shot. This time, he punches him square in the nose and harder than the first time. The blow knocks Jefferson down and this time, he slams the back of his head on the edge of a hard, wooden chair.

For a moment, Robin just stands there, watching as Jefferson writhes on the floor. People around him are hollering and laughing, but he can’t seem to make out any of their words. His ears are ringing and his heart is pounding, and he’s vaguely aware of that this doesn’t feel done—and he’s vaguely aware that if he stays any longer he might not be able to stop himself.

The whole way from Sherwood to the pub, he kept telling himself that just one punch—one good, hard punch—would make him feel better. But now that he’s here, he realizes that’s not at all the case, and he realizes that he always knew that it wasn’t.

He takes a step toward Jefferson who’s laying on the floor, rubbing at the back of his head, and before he can take another step, someone steps up behind him and pulls him back. He doesn’t see who it is, but he pulls back his arm and keeps his eyes fixed on Jefferson.

He can’t look away, and he finds himself fantasizing about grabbing him up by the collar and dragging him to his feet, only to knock him down again, and he thinks about how good it would feel to ram the tip of his boot into the pit of Jefferson’s stomach—but as he steps toward him again, he’s once more pulled back and he hears a voice he doesn’t recognize mutter a low Stop, he’s not worth it.

Robin pulls away and when he turns back, he can’t tell who pulled him back. He searches the faces of the men around him, and he can’t make out a single one, so it gives him a moment to think—and it’s then that he realizes the voice was right. Jefferson isn’t worth it. He spots the barkeep in the back of the room. He’s standing back and watching with wide, curious eyes, and Robin thinks of how different he looks now than he did then. When he turned them away that afternoon, he’d been so quiet and short. He’d avoided eye contact, often focusing his attention on the floor or on a spot of wall just beyond them; but now, he’s just standing there watching and not intervening.

Robin looks away, turning as he looks at Jefferson, still lying pathetically sprawled out on the floor and hears another low warning of He’s not worth it.

It’s odd the way that shifts his thoughts to Regina, remembering how she begged him to go that afternoon without causing a scene, and he can’t help but think how upset she’d be if she were there with him, or even if she knew where he was. He sighs to himself, thinking of his flimsy excuse—one only his young and gullible sons bought—and he feels guilt prickling up from his core.

And then, before he can change his mind, he turns on his heels and leaves, jumping onto his horse and running him as fast as he can back to Sherwood.

______

When he arrives at Sherwood, John is waiting by the door.

He offers him a nod as he takes the reins of his horse, and as Robin enters the long foyer at the front of the house, he wonders if John has been waiting there the whole time.

There’s a fire glowing in the library and it occurs to him that he could check in on his father—that perhaps he should confide what happened that evening at the pub—but when he hears Zelena’s high-pitched and nearly manic laugh, he turns away, deciding that conversation can be saved for the morning.

He goes up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

His shoulders relax as he reaches the hall that leads to his and Regina’s rooms, and suddenly, the thought of curling up in bed with her as a warm fire crackles in front of them, sets him completely at ease. But when he pushes into their bedchamber, he finds it empty. The bed is still made up and Regina’s dressing table is untouched, and a smile draws onto his lips as he realizes that she’s likely still with the boys.

He finds her in the rocking chair with each boy at her side, their legs tangled over her lap as she reads to them. Roland is sucking on his thumb and Henry’s head is on her shoulder, his little fingers playing with the lace piping on her dress. Mal’s door is open and he can see her mending some of the boys’ socks, listening as Regina reads Keeper’s Travels in Search of His Master

a book Regina’s been reading to the boys—and a book Roland’s missed reading for the past several nights.

Robin chuckles softly as he sits on the edge of Henry’s bed and Regina grins, momentarily looking up from the page to acknowledge him. She doesn't say anything; instead, she just keeps reading the tale of a little dog’s harrowing journey home. Robin looks between them boys—Henry is sated, looking on the verge of sleep, while Roland hangs on every word, enthralled as though he could listen for several more hours.

Regina keeps reading, but he can’t help notice the way her eyes zero in on his hand, and it’s only then that he realizes how red and scuffed his knuckles are. Her brow arches as he pushes his hand into his pocket, like a child who’s been caught, but again, she says nothing. It’s not until Henry falls asleep that she folds the book closed and turns her attention to Roland, promising they’ll continue the story the following night. Begrudgingly, he sighs and nods, and agrees that it’s not fair for Henry to miss a part of the story just because he wants to stay awake for more.

Robin rises from Roland’s bed to take Henry from Regina, and from the corner of his eye, he watches Mal sit up a little straighter as she stares into her sitting room; then, with a hurried glance toward the nursery, she puts down her sewing and goes toward the room. He hears the door close behind her, and he can hear her voice, speaking lowly, in the hall just outside the nursery.

Regina doesn’t seem to notice any of it, and neither do the boys—and as he tucks Henry into his bed and positions the blanket around the boy’s shoulders, he tells himself that it’s likely nothing to worry about.

He and Regina switch sides, and he watches momentarily as she leans in to kiss Henry’s forehead, then he turns his attention to Roland. He sits on the edge of the bed as Roland yawns, but before he can wish him sweet dreams, the nursery door opens.

John is standing there and Mal is beside him—and behind them are two men in black suits and hats.

Roland gasps and sits up and Regina stares wide-eyed into the hall—and then, she slowly turns to look at Robin, her eyes sinking closed as she focuses on his scuffed knuckles.

“Mr. Locksley,” John says in a low voice, mindful of Regina and the boys, “These men would like to speak with you in the hall.”

Robin blinks. “These men—”

“Yes.”

“Who are they?” Roland asks in a small, innocent voice.

“Just some men from town,” Robin tells him as his eyes shift to Regina. “I, um… I must’ve forgotten that I had with a meeting with them.”

Regina’s jaw tightens, and even Roland doesn’t believe it. “They… they look like watchmen.”

“Mr. Locksley,” one of the men calls. “We need to speak to you now.”

His voice is loud and firm, and it wakes Henry, who sits up in bed with wide eyes. “What’s happening?” he asks, groggily looking to Regina. “Who are those men?”

“They’re watchmen!”

Henry looks to Roland.

“Why are watchmen here?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Henry,” Robin says.

“Now Mr. Locksley,” the other calls.

And this time, Robin nods and steps away from Roland’s bed.

“What the hell is going on?” Regina asks, whispering loudly as she follows him to the door. “Where did you go?”

“It’s… it’s probably nothing.”

“Robin—”

“Stay with the boys.”

“Robin—”

“I can stay with them,” Mal cuts in—and momentarily, he and Regina both look back to the boys who are both teary and nervous. “I can—”

“No,” Regina cuts in. “I should stay with them.”

“I won’t be lo—”

“Though I’d love to know what’s going on,” Regina cuts in, her voice cool.

“Mr. Locksley, we won’t ask again.”

Regina's eyes sink closed and she turns away from him. A knot forms at the pit of his stomach as he leaves the nursery, careful to close the nursery door.

“Can I ask what this is—”

“We’ll ask the questions, Mr. Locksley,” one of the watchmen says. “Now, were you at the Sherwood Pub this evening?”

“Around nine o’clock.”

Robin swallows as he thinks of Jefferson and that stupid, smug smile and the pathetic way he floundered on the pub’s floor. “I was.”

“And when you were there, did you see a Mr. Jefferson Hatfield?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Yes,” the watchmen agrees. “Quite unfortunate.”

“Quite unfortunate, indeed,” the other watchmen says as he reaches into his pocket. “Because Mr. Hatfield is charging you with—”

Robin grimaces. “Can we discuss this elsewhere, gentleman?” He looks back at the closed door. “Perhaps out of the earshot of my wife and sons?”

The watchmen agree and they all go downstairs, except for Mal who joins Regina in the nursery.

Robin pulls them into the drawing room, a room that is generally unoccupied, and away from the prying ears of hallboys and footmen who would quickly report anything back to the butler who’d report directly to his father. John hovers at the door to ensure that no one enters as the watchmen recap Jefferson’s story—and Robin nods along with it, not disagreeing with any detail.

“Is there anything you’d like to add?”

“Only that it was a long time coming.”

“Is that is?”

Robin nods. “I… assume you know of my history with the Hatfields?”

The watchmen look uncomfortable, but they both nods and one murmurs more of your wife’s family’s history, as he avoids eye contact.

“So, then, I can assure you that what happened this evening was unprovoked.”

One of the men nods. “That doesn't change the charge.”

“Or that we’re here to arrest you for the charge.”

Robin blinks. “For defending—”

“Mr. Hatfield did not hurt your wife.”

“Like hell he didn’t!” Robin replies, his voice rising. “Perhaps not tonight, but—”

“From what I understand—”

“You understand nothing,” Robin cuts in. “What happened tonight between Jefferson Hatfield and I—”

Robin’s voice halts abruptly as the door opens and John steps aside to let Richard into the drawing room. “We can hear the yelling straight from the library. What the hell is happening here?” His brows arch as he takes in the watchmen. “What brings you here?”

“We’re here to arrest the younger Mr. Locksley.”

“On what charge?” Richard demands. “That’s preposterous.”

“It isn’t, though, sir,” the watchman says. “Mr. Locksley’s admitted to it all.”

Richard blinks. “And what is it all?”

“Assault,” the other watchman tells him. “It seems your son got into a little scuffle with Mr. Jefferson Hatfield.”

Richard’s eyes narrow as he looks to Robin. “What sort of scuffle?”

“I… hit him a few times,” Robin says. “It was deserved.”

For a moment, Richard says nothing and Robin bristles, waiting for the likely lecture about how Regina’s tainted his life. But the longer he waits, the less likely it seems to come. Instead, Richard stares at him, almost blankly, before turning his eyes to the watchmen.

“Don’t do anything,” he says at last. “I’ll be back momentarily, and then we’ll all sit down for a chat.” Richard turns on his heels and on the way out, he whispers something to John, and then John goes to the little bar near the hearth and pours two glasses of brandy.

The watchmen accept the drinks, looking a bit befuddled, but otherwise compliant.

It doesn't take long for Richard to return and when he does, he again whispers something to John. Robin watches curiously as John’s jaw tenses, but nonetheless, he nods, then disappears out the door.

“Now, gentlemen,” Richard begins. “We all know that a little bar fight between young men is nothing uncommon, and while I’d like to think my own son is above such low and childish feats, I’m not stupid enough to think he’s incapable of them.”

“He’s admitted—”

“I understand what he’s admitted,” Richard says cooly. “But lots of boys get into scuffles when alcohol is involved, and you and I both know the Hatfields are known cons.”

At that, Robin’s brow arches.

“I don’t know why my son felt so inclined to strike him—”

“Multiple times—”

“That seems irrelevant,” Richard decides. “What is relevant, however, is the fact that the Hatfield boys have made a habit of making enemies. They squander their wealth and steal it back through card tricks and schemes. Everyone knows it and everyone tolerates it because their father was an honorable man.”

“That doesn’t—”

Richard doesn’t seem to hear the watchmen speak. “So, how much will this cost me?”

“The charge—”

“You can’t tell me you’re going to arrest my son on the account of a Hatfield.”

“The charge is quite serious, sir. I can’t, in good faith—”

“Do you have children?”

Robin watches as the watchmen both nod.

“A son and two daughters,” one of them says.

“And I’ve a child on the way,” the other tells him.

Richard nods. “All charges come with a price, you see. You can arrest my son and take him away, and in the morning, I’ll go into town and post his bail, and all your efforts tonight will be undone. Or, I can pay it now, and give you each, a... I suppose we could call it a bonus… for your efforts in expediting this process.”

Again, Robin watches as the watchmen exchange a questioning look.

“I assure you, it’ll be worth your while,” Richard says, reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulling out a cheque book. “I don’t imagine you couldn’t use this,” he murmurs, as he moves to the little desk in search of an ink well to dip his pen. “And if you can’t immediately put it to use, perhaps you could invest it, and give your children their start in life.”

Richard finds the ink well and dips the tip of the pen into it, then on a scrap of paper, he writes another. “I’m no mathematician, but I think this should cover it?” He turns the paper toward the watchmen. “Of course, this would go to each of you.”

Robin cranes his neck and his brows arch at the amount written on the paper scrap. Then, when he looks to the watchmen, they’re standing there with wide eyes and slack jaws, staring at an amount likely more than they’ll ever earn as watchmen.

“Can we agree to this?” Richard asks. “I’d like to know before I waste a note on—”

“I… I think… I think that’ll be sufficient,” one of the watchmen says.

“Yes. Sufficient,” the other agrees.

“Good,” Richard tells them as he turns back to the desk. “I appreciate your willingness to expedite this process for us.” He blows on the cheques before turning back to the watchmen. “And, of course, I’ll appreciate your discretion in this matter. You see, it’d be quite embarrassing for my family if this got out.”

“Of course.”

“Understood.”

The men accept the cheques and leave, leaving Robin and his father alone in the drawing room.

“Um, thank you. I—”

“I can’t afford more scandal brought onto this family due to your wife’s indiscretions.”

Robin’s brow furrows. “Regina wasn’t the one who—”

“No,” Richard says, shaking his head. “She didn’t. But you did on her behalf.”

Robin blinks, stiffening and feeling like he has whiplash. Richard didn’t have to write the cheques and he’d done it in a way that made it seem rather insignificant, in a way that made it seem like he understood. “I… won’t apologize for defending her honor,” Robin says, clearing his throat and collecting his thoughts. “And when I see a double set of rules—one for her and one for everyone else—I won’t accept it.”

Richard’s brow furrows. “Rules?”

“The pub refused us service today.”

“Regina?”

“And me.”

Richard nods, considering it—and though Robin’s hardly an expert on his father’s thoughts, he notes that Richard seems bothered by that detail. “Because you were with her.”

“Presumably.”

“And what’s this to do with Jefferson Hatfield?”

It seems a stupid question, considering how closely tied Regina and Jefferson’s stories are, but Robin answers it anyway. “Well, it has everything to do with him, but to add to the insult, while we were being denied, Jefferson was being served.”

“Served—”

“Yes, he was sitting at the bar drinking.”

“I see.” For a moment, Richard ponders it, and once again, Robin can’t quite tell what he’s thinking. “I won’t condone you acting so foolishly—”

“I’m not—”

“I knew this would happen, eventually, once you married her. You always need to play the hero, and now look where it’s gotten you.”

“Regina isn’t at fault for—”

“Well, it’s done, now,” Richard says dismissively. “And know the amount I wrote on those notes will come off of your inheritance.”

Robin’s eyes roll. “I should expect nothing less.”

They go their separate ways—his father to check on Zelena and himself toward the nursery, and when he reaches the end of the hall, he spots Regina standing outside the door.

He smiles a bit awkwardly as he starts toward her, planning out some sort of apology as he goes.

But he doesn’t get out the words.

“Wrangling horses?” she asks, her brow arching.

“I… I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I shouldn’t have lied. I just—”

“I can’t believe you did this.”

He blinks, unsure of what she’s talking about exactly.

“I can’t believe you’d do something so stupid!”

“While, I admit, the actual act was rather foolish, my intentions—”

“What if you’d been arrested?” she interjects. “Oh, my god, Robin, what if you’d killed him?”

“I… think that’s a bit extreme.”

“Is it?” Regina counters. “Because I’ve seen those sorts of fights—the sort of fights where two drunk and angry men—”

“I wasn’t drunk.”

“That’s not the point. The point is that it just takes one punch for things to go terribly awry.”

Robin’s jaw tightens—that had occurred to him, at some point. “Regina, I think it’s important to consider—”

“And what would have happened had that happened?” Her voice hitches and it’s only then that he sees how upset she is, and he doesn’t quite understand it. “What would’ve happened if you’d been hauled off to jail on murder charges or—”

“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself. I hardly—”

“What would’ve happened to me and Henry? To Roland? I can’t imagine that your father would’ve let us stay or let me still see him. I doubt—”

“Regina,” Robin says, cutting in and letting his voice raises over hers. “It's useless to dwell on what could’ve happened. It didn’t. That’s that. It’s over.”

“But it’s not, Robin. It’s not. I constantly worried about what’ll happen if I lose you.”

“You won’t lose me. I’m not—”

“Well, I didn’t plan on losing Daniel either, and look how that worked out!”

“That’s… that’s different.”

“Is it? Because a half an hour ago, two watchmen were here ready to haul you off to jail.”

“But they didn’t!”

“Because your father paid them off!”

“Are you…” His eyes narrow as her voice trails off, unsure of which part of this is making her so upset. “What exactly are you mad about? Jefferson? Because—”

“I asked you to leave it alone. I asked you to ignore it. I asked you not to make it worse. And you did! You didn’t listen, Robin. You didn’t think about anything other than what you were feeling!”

He’s taken aback by that. The only thing he thought of was her.

Regina’s jaw tightens and she shakes her head as she looks away from him, obviously pissed. “You have no idea what it’s like to live at someone else’s mercy!”

And that pisses him off. “Mercy?”

It might be just an issue of choosing the wrong word, an issue of semantics, but the word she chose seems to imply control and worse that he somehow controls her, and that she’s trapped.

Since their marriage, he’s made a concerted effort not to do either of those things, to include her and make her feel a part of every decision made. At first, he’d done it to prove to her that he didn’t marry her for some sort of ulterior motive, to prove that she was more to him than someone to warm his bed; then, it became about defining a partnership and creating a marriage of equals.

“You think you’re living at my mercy?”

She looks straight at him. “Aren’t I?” It’s worse than a sting, and he has to bite his tongue. Regina looks away, dropping her eyes down and grimacing, and for a moment, he thinks she might apologize and say she didn't mean that. But instead, when she looks back, she shakes her head. “I’m going to bed,” she tells him. “I’m tired.”

“I am, too, but I think we need to talk about this.”

“There’s little point in that,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. “You’ll just ignore me.”

With that, she walks away, leaving him standing in the middle of hallway, unable to sort his thoughts and feelings. In the back of his head, there’s a little voice that tells him she’s partially right—she did ask him to leave it alone and he did lie to her that night—but still, to imply that she has no autonomy because of him, that she lives completely at his mercy suggests something he’s uncomfortable with and suggests something that’s patently untrue.

And again, that implication gets under his skin.

Nothing about this day has gone the way he intended, so why would it end in the way he intended?

Turning on his heels he sulks toward the stairs. If he goes to bed now, he’ll either end up in a fight with Regina or lie there alone tossing and turning, and neither of those things are anything that he’s interested in doing. So, instead, he goes down to the empty library and pours himself a large glass of bourbon, deciding to drink his feelings until he passes out.

Maybe tomorrow will be better.

#oq ff #oq fic #outlaw queen #hcab verse #oq au

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darlingrutherford · 5 years

Note

C and G for OC ask! :D

Aaaah, thank you so much for the ask!!

C: Comfort

1. how do they sit in a chair?

Sarya Lavellan - She’s a bit more relaxed when sitting. Josephine has had to clear her throat loudly on occasion because she’ll turn her head and see Sarya sitting cross-legged in her chair (Josephine does her best to try to get Sarya acting a bit more “proper” for sake of impressing noble allies, to little avail). She’s more likely to slouch when sitting for long periods of time, especially once she starts daydreaming (which happens often).

Lana Surana - Very straight-backed. She doesn’t cross her ankles beneath the chair or anything super proper like that, but she was definitely barked at to sit up straight enough times as a kid to have it drilled into her. Sometimes, if she feels herself beginning to slouch, she can hear her mother’s voice in her head as a warning and immediately rights herself.

2. in what position do they sleep?

Sarya Lavellan - Sarya’s all over the place. When sleeping by herself she usually starts out on her side, and will wake up sometimes halfway off her bedroll hugging her pillow. When sleeping with Cullen, she usually starts out curled in towards him or him in towards her with his face buried just below her neck. Cullen quickly learns to hold onto her tightly, lest he wants to wake up with her ass in his face (not that he’d mind).

Lana Surana - When alone, very curled up, making herself small. She often starts out with a blanket over her head to fall asleep, and then straightens out in her sleep and ends up on her back much like how she constantly straightens herself while sitting. This doesn’t change much when she’s with Alistair, starting out curled out with her back to Alistair, though she’s happy to trade in the blanket over her head for his arms which he keeps tight around her to keep her safe. She still ends up straightened out at some point in the night, which Alistair takes advantage of and ends up sprawled across her with his face in her chest (his “favorite pillow” as he likes to put it).

3. what is their ideal comfort day?

Sarya Lavellan - A day with her friends and loved ones where nothing goes wrong and everyone is happy. No Anchor flaring in her hand, no demons, no Great Game to play, just laughter and maybe good cakes to share.

Lana Surana - Spending time somewhere quiet, away from civilization, just Alistair and herself. Comfort is something that’s difficult for her to find after everything she’s been through and the impact it’s had on her views of herself, but she’s always found comfort in solitude, and Alistair has a way of making her relax that’s uncanny to her.

4. what is their major comfort food? why?

Sarya Lavellan - Tea; she was trained as an herbalist on top of being a mage, so she’s able to make a tea and enchant it to suit her needs. Cakes are always a comfort as well, although not always as readily available as tea. She loves cakes because they had very little access to sweets like that in a roaming Dalish clan that stayed away from human settlements for the most part, so it’s become a bit of a delicacy for her.

Lana Surana - Fruit, especially berries. Her father used to give her berries as a treat, and she’s reminded of him whenever she eats them. The memories are bittersweet, but she’d rather remember than not at all.

5. who is the best at comforting them when down?

Sarya Lavellan - Dorian. Don’t get me wrong, Cullen is great at soothing her and making her happy, but Dorian is her best friend and always has the best gossip to take her mind off of things. He’s also a fierce friend and is ready to throw the sass right back at any Orlesian mistaking Sarya for a servant (or, on occasion, try to convince them that she’s his servant and they can go toss themselves if they think they can just go and steal his elf. Always good when he wants to make people stare).

Lana Surana - Alistair. He goes the extra mile to cheer her up when she’s down, and lucky for him she loves his sense of humor so it’s not difficult for him. He’s also very intuitive when it comes to her hiding her feelings, so he can catch her before she goes too far down into a dark hole.

G: Gorgeous

1. what is their most attractive external feature?

(These were actually really hard for me to come up with from my perspective, which is immensely funny to me for some reason. So, I’m writing these from the perspective of their romance)

Sarya Lavellan - (From Cullen’s perspective): Maker’s breath, I have to choose just one? Then, I suppose… her mouth, specifically the way it curves when she smiles. The trio of freckles on the back of her left shoulder, the ones just below her neckline. Come now, you can’t possibly expect me to pick just one.

Lana Surana - (From Alistair’s perspective): What, her most attractive external feature? Liiike, her adorable little nose? But then, what about her gorgeous blue eyes? Oooor… her, ah, breasts, because… well, those are… ahem… very nice as well, you’ve… probably noticed. I mean, I have… Who wouldn’t?

2. what is the most attractive part of their personality?

Sarya Lavellan - Probably her want to help others. She’s very genuine and wears her heart on her sleeve. She’s usually the first person to jump to their feet when someone is expressing any need, and will stay dutifully at a friend’s side when they’re ill or sad or just in general need someone. She chose Mythal’s markings for her vallaslin for a reason.

Lana Surana - Her fierce loyalty. Lana tries not to get too close to people, but she will defend them with all she has. She believes it’s her duty to protect people, and will especially go out of her way to protect those who have ever so much as smiled in her direction out of fear of them being hurt because of her.

3. what benefits come with being their friend?

Sarya Lavellan - A friend of Sarya’s is always cared for. If she finds them to be dissatisfied, she will try to find a way to lift their spirits. If they are ill, she’ll nurse them back to health. Plus, being a close friend of the Inquisitor has its own perks for sure.

Lana Surana - Someone who always has your back, who is quiet but loud when it comes to defending you. She’s easily amused, so your jokes are sure to get a laugh no matter how dorky.

4. what parts of them do they like and dislike?

Sarya Lavellan - Sarya is proud of being a mage, of having abilities that allow her to help others in ways that not everyone can (this also extends to her herbalist abilities). She wishes she could be more outspoken and stand up for herself better around people she doesn’t know, and also wishes that she dealt with chaos better (and her life has been nothing but chaos since the Conclave).

Lana Surana - This one was difficult to answer for Lana because there’s a lot of self loathing because of her past. If she could pick something to like about herself, it would probably be her appreciation of solitude. She can go a long time without speaking to someone and feel at peace. She very much dislikes being a mage, and is convinced that if she had not come into magic then nothing would have happened the way it did. She sees being a mage as somewhat of a curse, and being a Grey Warden as her penance for everything bad that her magic has brought upon those she knew.

5. what parts of others do they envy?

Sarya Lavellan - Sarya envies Vivienne’s confidence, Cullen’s willpower, and Josephine’s ability to make heads or tails of the Great Game.

Lana Surana - Other than not being a mage, Lana envies Alistair’s lighthearted nature in spite of everything that’s happened to him, Morrigan’s pride in being a mage, and Leliana’s knack for seeing every detail even in tricky situations.

#schoute #oc meme #dragon age #sarya lavellan #lana surana #my ocs #fanfiction #dragon age inquisition #dragon age origins #writing reference

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itsclydebitches · 7 years

Link

Summary:

Just days after Balem returned to his adult self, Jupiter is thrown head-first into another adventure - one she, frankly, really doesn’t have the energy for. But when has the universe ever taken her desires into account? Mysteries, promises, and desperate moves forward; bees, splices, and awkward family dinners. It’s enough to make even her seasoned head spin.

…which doesn’t even include the chance to play at ‘Mother’ once more. Only question is: will Jupiter take it?

(DIRECT SEQUEL TO “ROCK THE CRADLE”)

Fandom: Jupiter Ascending

Words: 18,708 so far

Warnings: Will eventually mention previous neglect/abuse of children

Pairings: Jupiter/Caine

Where to Read it: Below the cut or on AO3 (AO3 recommended for formatting)

Chapter Ten

Jupiter walked up into the Aegis and promptly felt like she’d entered an episode of the Twilight Zone. It was so disconcerting that she reached out, steading herself on one of the cold, metal walls.

“Easy there, Your Majesty.” T’sing’s hands came around Jupiter’s bare shoulders. “Do you dislike it?”

Dislike it?

Jupiter didn’t know what to think of it, because she’d expected ‘it’ to be the sterile, high-tech ship she’d traveled on months ago, the futuristic wonder that had saved her ass on more than one occasion. Instead, Jupiter had walked straight into an old-fashioned living room.

Not even a living room, her living room.

“I just feel vaguely like I’m having a stroke,” Jupiter said. She missed T’sing’s chuckle, moving out of her embrace to step tentatively into the room. It was, impossibly, exactly like Vassily’s home, down to the drab walls and thin layer of dust. Jupiter’s heels sank deep into the carpet, which correctly looked like it needed a good vacuuming—he might live with three cleaners, but they weren’t much for free work and Jupiter was sure her cousin hadn’t picked up a duster himself in decades. The couch was appropriately ratty and when Jupiter pressed her face to the old throw draped across it, she could smell mothballs and her mom’s cheap perfume. It sent a pang of homesickness through her that she wasn’t expecting. Which was stupid really. She’d seen them just last night.

It was all different now though, wasn’t it? They still saw Jupiter Jones, their daughter and cousin, toilet scrubber extraordinaire, which was great in some respects... but she also couldn’t deny that she was just as much Queen Jupiter, collector of lucky breaks and bureaucratic insanity. Jupiter looked down at her gown and felt another pang. She didn’t look like she fit in here either.

“Whoa, get a look at this!”

Kiza came barreling up into the ship, dressed now in a clean pair of jeans and a pretty white top with lace sleeves. She’d pulled her blonde hair into pigtails and the whole effect was to make her look young—younger than she already was, anyway. Jupiter saw the unmistakable outline of a blaster under her shirt and wondered if that wasn’t half the point.

Caine and Stinger followed with identically raised eyebrows. Guano brought up the rear, her wings momentarily blocking out the sun. T’sing let out a happy exclamation at spotting her and as the two women embraced Kiza skipped over to Jupiter, snapping pictures that must have been blurry.

Honestly, Jupiter wasn’t that photogenic. What ever happened to ‘three, two, one, smile’?

“Loving the contrast,” Kiza said. She pocketed her phone and made a frame of her fingers. “Title: Gorgeous Queen in Hovel. What is this place anyway?”

“Your Queen’s home,” Stinger said dryly and Kiza’s eyes almost popped out of her head.

She slowly lowered her hands. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Jupiter just shook her head, oddly feeling better now. “Don’t sweat it. You’ve only seen the kitchen and our bedroom, right? The living room has always been a little more... shabby.”

It was true, though Jupiter hadn’t realized it until she said it aloud. They splurged on the bedroom because that was their place of rest and if you were cramming three women in there together it had to be comfortable, as soothing as possible and nice to look at. The kitchen, meanwhile, was the embodiment of their family—the space for food and conversation, the remnants of their culture after living here. But the living room? That was just a room on its own, a housing space for old furniture and toys no one played with anymore. It was a hodge-podge of things, colors, and textures. Jupiter ran her hands over the table she and Vladie had hung out at and acknowledged how random this space was.

Especially when it showed up in a spaceship. Fitting.

Jupiter spread her arms. “What is going on?”

Guano grinned at her, running past and launching herself onto the couch. It was like a tornado combined with an earthquake and Caine absently pat Jupiter’s hair back into place as went to set his weapons aside. Guano stretched out and got comfortable. She arched up to look at T’sing.

“It’s an interrogation room, yes?”

Jupiter stared. “You think my living room is that bad?”

“No, no Your Majesty.” T’Sing raised her hand imploringly while Guano cackled. Stinger just shook his head.

“Standard warship fare,” he explained. “Or police force, I suppose. Now that you’ve been demoted from the front lines.”

T’sing made a rude gesture his way. “This is my retirement, I’ll have you know.”

“You poor thing,” Kiza muttered.

Stinger tweaked her ear. “Like I said, Your Majesty, standard equipment. Space, as you know, is somewhat vast,” he adopted a vaguely sarcastic tone, “and it often takes a long while to transport criminals from wherever they've been apprehended to the nearest police post—if, of course, that post even falls within your jurisdiction. So, much of the work needs to be done in-route."

T'sing nodded. "It's not uncommon for the accused to go through the entirety of their trial by the time we dock. These ships are normally outfitted with lab technicians, judges, even civilians to choose a jury from." She gestured expansively to the otherwise empty ship. "It's a nice deal for them: the chance to explore space for the price of a public service they'd need to perform on their own planets anyway."

"But dangerous," Caine added. "They're rich fools looking for adventure. Then they sue when, shockingly, the police cruiser gets shot at."

Guano laughed and T'sing adopted an, 'well yeah, there's that' expression.

"The point, Your Majesty, is that this is indeed just a standard holographic system, though one designed specifically for interrogations. It's capable of re-creating any environment from the user's memory," T'sing laid a hand on her own chest, "and we use it to enhance our routines, create a sense of unease in the accused—or relaxation. Some simulations are even able to trick them into thinking they've escaped, or its all been just a dream. Humanoids will spill a lot if they convince themselves they're safe."

"And they want to convince themselves," Guano said, a rather evil smile gracing her features.

Jupiter wandered over to the far wall where T'sing pointed. There, inside the cabinet that normally housed all their old board games was some sort of machine, no bigger than a toaster. It actually looked a bit like a toaster too: square, silver, though ingrained with alien symbols and tech she could never hope to decipher. Jupiter reached out a hand to touch...before thinking better of it.

"That still doesn't explain why you want to interrogate aliens in my living room," she said.

T'sing blinked. "Oh. I don't, Your Majesty. I only thought that this would help your family feel more at home. I saw this room briefly during our... negotiations with that Chicanery fellow and thought that it would be a more welcoming sight than the normal bridge..." she trailed off, looking around at all the averted gazes. "Ah. They're not coming."

"Nope." Jupiter shrugged in self-criticism. "I 1000% chickened out in that regard and honestly? Don't regret it for a second. Yeah. I know. Mom and everyone need to get the low down at some point, especially with the Keepers scrambling their brains every few weeks, but at least I'm not dealing with them on top of Kalique and weird Encroacher people—"

"Encroachers?" T'sing said sharply. Even Guano sat up, looking worried.

Stinger rubbed at his forehead. "I'll explain on the way. Come, we'll be late as it is."

As Kiza gave them the lowdown on her theory T'sing moved to the front of the living room, to the door that normally lead into the kitchen. When she opened it though there was a familiar windshield looking out into the cornfields and a series of complicated buttons that Jupiter recognized as the Aegis' steering. For a second she thought her mind was playing tricks on her until T'sing lifted a hand and suddenly the whole view changed from vertical to horizontal. The door was still there, it had just... shifted.

"Okay," Jupiter said. "That's cool."

"That's technology," Kiza countered. "You humans are so behind. Kinda like our cell service, Dad."

"Would you stop with that already, you're driving your Queen nuts."

Kiza leaned into Jupiter's side, rising up on tiptoe to whisper: "Am I driving you nuts?"

"A little, yeah."

"Awesome."

Of course, Jupiter wasn't an idiot. She knew what they were doing. Easy banter. Lighthearted questions. Let's move away from the topic of family, shall we? And Jupiter did appreciate it. She knew she wasn't being fair to Mom or her cousins anymore... but she was also getting a sense of how much she could handle. Tonight was for a rather different type of family.

If 'family' was even the right term. Jupiter wasn't sure anymore.

At least there was family right here. That Jupiter could swear to. Guano tossed her a soda from the ancient mini fridge next to the couch and Kiza forced her to make room, fussing over Jupiter's hair and begging her not to spill Dr. Pepper on her dress. Stinger went to speak with T'sing—who kept the illusion up the whole time, for Jupiter's sake at least—and filled her in, as promised, on all the strangeness that had been going on—how none of them trusted Kalique as far as they could throw her. Caine kneaded Jupiter's thigh and confirmed that this was despite the fact that they could, in fact, throw her pretty damn far.

A pang ran through Jupiter at that. Just the thought that she might have been wrong...naive in how much progress she'd been making with her and Titus causing an ache in her chest. If they were truly up to something, it would be a lot like losing Balem all over.

Jupiter pushed that thought down though, stood on shaky legs, and went back over to the cupboard. The games were still there behind T'sing's tech. Ignoring mind boggling thoughts about what she was touching if this wasn't really there (or what she’d been drinking from that soda), she selected something to pass the time.

"Yes," Kiza breathed as Jupiter set the box down. "Hell yes!"

Guano snatched a card and sniffed it. "What is it?"

"Something you said you'd teach me," Caine murmured. Jupiter nodded.

"An ancient and beloved Earth past time. Well, not ancient, but definitely beloved. Brutal too. Prepare for civil war, guys."

Caine looked intrigued. Guano was practically bouncing in her seat. Jupiter called Stinger over and got T'sing to put the ship on autopilot. She set the box out on display at the front of their little half cirlce—Cards Against Humanity.

"Gimme the freaking 'Bees?' card," Kiza muttered, trying to sort through all the white as Jupiter slapped her hands away.

As she'd suspected, it was an excellent distraction. A memory to return to sometime. A little over three hours flew by and it was while Jupiter was trying to decide on an answer for "10% of adults admit having an addiction to..." that she looked up, catching sight of the planet ahead of them. The cards dropped from her hands.

"Wow," Jupiter whispered.

T'sing hummed. "Yes, Your Majesty. Welcome to Dithor IV. Wealthy, gorgeous... the perfect paradise."

"There’s no such thing as perfect," Caine said and Jupiter nodded. It certainly looked stunning from way up here—

—but then, it was hard to see imperfections from so far away. An easy enough fix.

“Let's get closer."

#Jupiter Ascending #JA #Rock the Cradle #When the Bough Breaks #JAfic

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literarilymanga · 7 years

Photo

Hello! I was lucky enough to have more interest in webcomic features than I thought. Today’s interview is with Merriam Hayden. Read it after the cut!

Me: Hello! Would you share a little bit about yourself as a creator?

Merriam: Sure! My name is Merriam Hayden. I went to college to study animation and did comics during that time because making a comic by myself was more feasible than pumping out animated shorts by myself.

Merriam: I'm a Lesbian in the Midwest as well.

Me: Could you give a short summary of Wrong Hand?

Merriam: Wrong Hand is the story of Lefty, who in a world where your Soulmate is determined by woman having marks on their left hand and men have matching marks on their right hands, has his own hand mark on the "wrong" hand. After meeting his Soulmate, Miles Write, Lefty learns more about "wrong handedness" and how there's many different ways of being "wrong" handed. The Wrong Hand is also the name of the bar where Miles works.

Me: Could you introduce the readers to your characters? Merriam: Lionel "Lefty" Rogers is the main character. He's a soon-to-be college grad who majored in accounting. He likes to play the Ukulele, but has no interest in pursuing music as a career.

Merriam: Miles Write is his Soulmate. He works nights at the Wrong Hand bar and days at the coffee shop called the Sun Dollar. Unlike Lefty, he's much more outgoing and open about his "wrong" handedness (even though he passes as "right" handed) .

Merriam: Sunni Syde is Miles' coworker at the Sun Dollar and a photographer. She dated guys in her early college days, but found the experience unsatisfying. She started dating women instead and found it much better. She's known to hang out at another bar called the Blue Cherry.

Merriam: Aura Easy is Sunni's soulmate and a detective. She had previously dated a girl when she was a teen, but they had a falling out. Aura is the one with the "correct" hand mark on her hand, but is much more butch than Sunni.

Merriam: Melanie Blanc is a blank handed woman who runs the Wrong Hand. She's not interested in dating or sex herself, but is always supportive of other Wrong Handed people who dream of meeting their Soulmates.

Merriam: Teresa Slater (deadname Theodore Slater) is a transwoman who realized she was trans much later in life and is roommates with Melanie.

Merriam: Sam Uno is a nonbinary comedian who always wears gloves and treats everything like a joke.

Merriam: Those are the main recurring characters.

Me: Who is your favorite character—and why?

Merriam: Ah man picking a favorite of my own characters is like picking my favorite child. if I have to choose I think I'll choose Sunni. She's very cute and very passionate about what she wants to do with her life, which is to be a photographer even if she has to work half between a coffee shop and sometimes weekends at her father's restaurant (Eggbert's, it's a breakfast place).

Me: Who is your least favorite character—and why?

Merriam: Chad Prickson. This character is not the most evil villain in the world or anything, but he's engineered to be an absolute jerk to everyone. He's Miles' previous ex, rich and self-centered, who treats people like garbage.

Me: Can you offer insight into how you’ve developed your story and your creative process over the years?

Merriam: Okay. Wrong Hand actually started off as a thing I vaguely kicked around in college a few years ago. A good friend of mine were talking about the concept of Soulmate stories and how'd we do them. She took a more fantasy/serious route with it and I wanted to go for a more lighthearted comedic thing. However, I didn't give it too much thought beyond three characters: Lefty, Miles, and Ms. Blanc. Miles originally worked at the Wrong Hand and ran a hot dog stand. However, my senior year of college I did an independent study. So, I decided to revisit this idea as an animated short. My teacher at the time suggested I change the hot dog stand to a coffee shop and of course I had to come up with more characters to flesh out the world. Sunni and Teresa and Sam wouldn't exist in this world without the short being made. It's not the best in the world, but it took me a year and I had to do it by myself. And I kicked the idea around with a good friend of mine (different one) and he helped me beef up the characters and come up with backstory. We even decided to have the setting be a fictional version of Minneapolis with Lefty growing up in Duluth. Having someone I can bounce ideas off of actually helps me a lot, too.

Me: What is your favorite part of the creative process? The least favorite part?

Merriam: Honestly, I really love planning and world building and writing stories--dialogue especially because I am really funny so I'm great at coming up with dialogue. My least favorite is thumbnailing because it's very tedious and slow and sometimes I can breeze through a page and know exactly how to lay it out and sometimes I get stumped by things. I do depend on thumbnailing because I would be lost while making pages without them, but making them can feel like a chore sometimes

Me: The idea of soulmates being determined by their hand marks is really intriguing. Are you going to go into the concept in more detail? Or are you going to focus more on the “slice of life” experiences?

Merriam: Slice of Life is the main focus of Wrong Hand, but I do also want to explore the idea in detail. Love and Free Will are major themes in a lot of the stories too because it's not like people haven't been falling in love or marrying people who aren't their Soulmate. And sometimes people actively do seek out their Soulmate and sometimes they don't.

Me: Is there a significance to each of the character’s colors?

Merriam: Not particularly, no. I just decided that if this was going to be a mundane world I wanted to give it a visual style that stood out. Part of me wishes I had put more thought into it, but not really. Lefty and Miles are blue and red. Sunni and her family are pink. There are two characters, Jacques Trooper and Zelda Worm, who are blue and pink and are kinda the token straight couple who are friends with Lefty, but other than that I didn't put much thought into the characters being a particular color.

Me: How have readers reacted to your characters and story thus far? Are there any challenges that you’ve had to overcome when working on Wrong Hand?

Merriam: Mostly I had more challenges with technical stuff while working on the short. Though as far as content is concerned the overall response has been super positive and people relate to Lefty and get a lot of the little snap shot comics that revolve around him having problems with his identity as a "wrong" handed male because his hand mark is on the "girl" hand. I haven't gotten into a lot of other characters backstories or hangups yet though, so we'll see how people respond in the future. Me: What do you want readers to take away from your story?

Merriam: I want them to take away that love may be complicated and life may complicate love, but it's definitely something worth seeking out and cultivating. Not just romantic or sexual pursuits, but friendships and familial relationships as well.

Me: You mention being lesbian. How has your sexual identity influenced your story?

Merriam: Well Wrong Hand is basically a not-so-subtle metaphor for being some kind of queer. some wrong handed characters are gay, some bi, some trans, some nonbinary. All my work has some kind of LGBT slant to it because so much media made about or for people like me is either super obscure or really depressing and I want to create hopeful and happy stories even if I do touch about the less savory aspects of things (have plans to touch upon things like how conversion therapy and things like that work in this world, but I do want people to come away from my work feeling good about themselves).

Me: Who is your “intended” audience?

Merriam: My intended audience is anyone who wants to find LGBT content that's hopeful.

Me: Do you plan to pursue other mediums for your story (like print or podcast)?

Merriam: I hadn't considered a podcast. I would love to print a physical copy of the comics someday and, of course, something animated. Like a feature film or even a series! I think an animated series would be awesome.

Me: Do you have any advice you want to share with other artists and writers?

Merriam: Lists are useful for planning a script and having a specific notebook/journal with comic stuff is a good idea.

Me: What are your tools of the trade? Any special software?

Merriam: I mostly use Clip Studio Paint because I can animate with it as well as do illustration. I don't have a specific kind of pen or paper I use for roughing out pages though. I usually draw the pages out traditionally first and then scan the pages to pretty up in Clip Studio Paint.

Me: When does Wrong Hand update?

Merriam: I like to update it at least twice a month, but right now my current day job makes updating on the regular hard. I've worked out getting a more regular schedule though so I'm hopeful that I'll get back to updating more frequently.

Me: Where can readers access your comic?

Merriam: Tapastic and Comic Fury. I have a longer story planned that I'm currently working on and I'll probably start posting the single pages on Comic Fury before Tapastic.

Me: Anything else you want to share? Shout outs?

Merriam: I love my friends and I love all the people who read my comic.

Follow Merriam for more art and life updates on her Twitter, Tumblr, and Instagram. She’ll also be attending Planet ComicCon, Smallville ComicCon, and TopCon. Merriam may also be at Kansas City Comic Con, but is not sure yet.

Be sure to also check out yesterday’s interview with Micah, webcomic artist for Roommate from Hell, if you haven’t already! And if you’re interested in being interviewed or sharing your thoughts on comics or related media, be sure to comment on this post, send an ask, or send me a message!

Have a great Sunday night!

(This post was adapted from a Twitter interview.)

#webcomic feature #wrong hand #merriam hayden #clip studio paint #tapastic #comic fury #smallville comiccon #topcon #planet comicon #kansas city comic con

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auroraphilealis · 7 years

Text

The Summer (22/32)

The Summer (22/32) | Dan Howell has spent the last three summers at Camp Bergamot, but it’s never been quite like this before. This year, he faces a summer full of new friends, a new relationship, and an entirely new view on his own sexuality. Perhaps Camp Bergamot should be renamed camp self discovery for all the changes Dan has gone through, but one thing’s for sure - despite all the hiccups and the drama, he just might have found the love of his life. | Phan | Mature | Smut, Misunderstandings, Insecurity, Panic Attacks, Bullying, Minor Violence, Physical Fight | 300,000+ Words

Disclaimer: In no way do I claim that this is real or cast aspersions on Dan or Phil.

This Part: 10,114 Words

For reference, @phansdick is Dan, @insanityplaysfics is Phil.

(Previous) (AO3) (Masterlist)

Warnings: possessiveness, teasing, dirty talk, mastrubation, fingering

Chapter Twenty-Two

For the first time all weekend, Phil woke up that morning feeling okay, and he got up and dressed to head for breakfast. He was out the door before anyone else, and walking to Dan's cabin with only one thought on his mind - Phil was not going to leave Dan's side once today. When the other boys saw him heading inside, they avoided his gaze, and Phil found himself smirking at the idea that they’d seen Dan’s neck and realized that Phil was staking a claim on him. It sent a rush through him that almost made him feel bad, but Dan had said it was okay, had wanted Phil to claim him, and that meant the world to him, so he tried not to be ashamed or embarrassed and headed into the boys room so he could crash on Dan’s bed until the other boy got back from the shower.

For once, Dan woke up completely awake and feeling refreshed. He was one of the first people in the shower, allowing himself a quick wank, before getting dressed in some thin clothes (due to hot weather) and a bejeweled Gatorland hat. It made him look like a fuckboy but he honestly couldn't care less because the hat hid his unruly curls and took some attention away from the dark marks on his neck. Ah yes, the marks. Dan loved them. His entire neck was practically just a huge hickey, and Dan loved the way it looked against his pale skin. Brittany just tsked at him when she saw and told him to wear something that didn't attract attention to his neck, hence the stupid hat. Dan was fine with it though, even a bit excited to be flaunting how good he looked to Phil and especially to Valerie, who had to look at the marks Phil had left on him. He came out of the shower to find Phil laying on his bed and was pleasantly surprised. "Phil!" he exclaimed, padding over to the bed and sitting beside him. "What're you doing here?"

When Dan showed up back from the shower, Phil flat out snorted, because what the hell was on his head? There was no time for Phil to answer Dan's question because he was laughing so much, and he rolled into Dan's side to hide his face there. By the time he had himself under control, Dan was glaring at him. "Sorry honey," he teased. "That's a beautiful jat you're wearing. Any special reason?" he asked, eyes raking over Dan's body and taking in the deep red hickeys against his neck. Phil stopped to admire them and leaned in to press his lips over the raised skin. "Is it perhaps to hide this?" he murmured, trailing affectionate kisses up Dan's jaw to his lips, where he took Dan's lip between his to play and nibble. He grinned as he pulled away. "Didn't want to be away from you any longer than I had to be," he finally explained, and then lay back in Dan's bed and dragged him on top of him.

Dan glared at Phil as he doubled over in laughter at the sight of him. He crossed his arms over his chest and just stared at him without amusement until he was done. Dan raised his eyebrow. He knew the hat was ridiculous, but he thought he looked pretty, damn it. Stupid Phil and his stupid lack of fashion taste. "You done?" Dan asked flatly, but he gloated a bit inside as Phil's eyes raked over his body, taking in the red skin of his neck. "Brittany told me I should wear something flashy to take away the attention of my neck. So here I am!" Dan posed stupidly as if he were in Vogue and shivered as Phil pressed his lips to the spots on his neck. Then they were actually kissing, and Phil was nibbling on his bottom lip in just the way that Dan liked. Thankfully, most of the other campers were already heading over to breakfast at that point, leaving them nearly alone, so Dan let their lips linger for a bit longer before pulling apart. Only when they separated did he allow Phil to pull him on top of him, and Dan was straddling his stomach in the least sexual way possible. "Oh I see, so you're going to be the clingy boyfriend now," Dan teased, sticking his tongue out at Phil. "You're lucky I love you."

"You like me clingy," Phil argued back, laughing as Dan hovered over him far less intimately than usual. Phil put his hands on Dan's hips and rubbed soothingly. "You like everything about me, let's face it," Phil added with a laugh, running his hands gently up Dan's sides. "But I guess I like everything about you as well. Your cute little tummy, the fact that you love me best, the way you react when I touch your nipples," Phil continued, grinning when Dan arched into Phil's thumbs when they rubbed over his chest. "Did I mention how much you love me?" Phil asked, until his hands were cupping Dan's neck and he was holding him tenderly. "But I hate your hat," he finally ended with, and reached up to shove the dumb thing off of his head, taking it in hand instead so Dan couldn’t just go and get it back.

"No, I actually hate you," Dan told his boyfriend, but his tone was lighthearted and joking. He liked being with Phil this way, how they could just joke around without a care in the world. Phil started to list off the things he loved about Dan and Dan was practically purring like a cat under his gentle touch. He couldn't help it; Phil's hands were so soft against him, holding him so nicely. Then his thumbs were rubbing over his chest, showing just how much Dan reacted to his touch on his nipples, and Dan arched into him. Phil's hands should be illegal, in Dan's opinion. Phil was so sweet, Dan like putty in his hands, until he reached up and grabbed Dan's hat right off his head. "Hey!" Dan whined, lunging after his beloved hat. "Give it back! I need that!" He was trying his best to grab it but Phil kept it out of his reach until Dan gave up and sat on Phil's stomach with his full weight, giggling as Phil wheezed under him. "Give me back my hat or answer to the wrath of my fat ass!" Dan laughed, grinning at Phil.

The best part about Dan straddling Phil was the difficulties he faced in attempting to get his hat back from Phil, who waved it around while laughing because it felt like the most hilarious thing in the world to tease his boyfriend. The worst part was Dan being able to properly sit on his stomach, and Phil wheezed as Dan did so. Despite Dan being a little heavy, him sitting there didn’t actually feel all that bad, and Phil didn't want the game to end, so he dropped the hat on the ground, and managed to curl his fingers under Dan's thighs. Slowly, he worked to lift him. "More like bony arse," Phil argued, giggling as Dan's face dropped in surprise that Phil could still lift him. "You're cute like this," he added for good measure. "Even cuter on top of me. Instead of the jat, can you wear me instead?" he teased, grinning when Dan's cheeks went red. "I'm cuter, I promise," he added, high off the fact that Dan was his again.

Dan went to whine at Phil about how much of an asshole he was for dropping his hat on the ground when Phil was suddenly lifting him up, making it so that Dan wasn't sitting on his stomach anymore. Dan glared at him, surprised that Phil could still lift him despite their situation, and just allowed Phil to move him. He couldn't deny that Phil's strength was sexy, so he wasn't exactly too mad about it. Then Phil said that Dan was cute, cuter on top of him, and Dan could feel his cheeks start to burn because who the hell says that? His boyfriend, apparently. Dan probably looked like a toddler by the way he was pouting, his face glowing red, but Phil looked so happy that Dan hardly cared. He was happy too, just by Phil being his. "Yeah sure, Phil. Just wrap yourself around my head so I can hide my hickies," Dan told his boyfriend sarcastically. "I'm sure that'll draw enough attention away from my neck. Have to admit, you are pretty cute, though." He poked his boyfriend's stomach for good measure and laughed, watching Phil squirm underneath him.

Phil squirmed as Dan poked at his stomach, and pouted up at his already pouting boyfriend. "You know what," he teased. "I take it back. You're not cute at all!" he complained, and used his shaky hold on Dan to push him over and off of Phil entirely. Dan made a high pitched squealing noise, and Phil laughed, squirming away as Dan moved to scramble back on top of him. "No! I don't want you here! Harassment! Harassment!" he complained, laughing as Dan pounced on him and immediately began to tickle at his sides. Phil was smiling so wide his cheeks hurt, but he didn't even mind because it was the best feeling in the world after the last two nightmare days. Phil wanted to be like this with Dan forever, even as his tongue stuck out in that awkward way he had, and Dan reached behind him to grab a pillow. "No!" he shouted, still laughing and raising his hands to protect his face as Dan moved to whack him. "Stop! You're so mean!" he shouted, but his entire body was shaking from the force of his laughter.

Dan couldn't stop laughing. His abdomen was hurting from how hard he was laughing, but he was just having so much fun that he couldn't stop. Phil was squirming underneath him, trying to get him off, but Dan wasn't having it. He clung onto him hard, tickling his sides and trying his hardest not to be dislodged no matter how hard Phil was trying. "Don't pretend like you don't like it!" Dan squealed back, cheeks hurting from smiling so wide. He sat back on Phil's thighs and held him down to the best of his ability while he leaned backwards, grabbing a pillow and hitting Phil with it. "You must face the consequences of trying to dislodge me!" Dan exclaimed, hitting his boyfriend over and over again. He was then taken off guard when Phil grabbed the pillow and forced it away from his grip, leaving Dan pouting. Damn strong boyfriend. His pouting didn't last long, though, because then Phil was whacking him back, and Dan had a moment of shock where he stumbled back. Phil took this as his chance to pull Dan into an embrace, and they were laughing so hard that Dan didn't even try to fight back, instead melting into his boyfriend's hold.

Phil managed to grab the pillow from Dan's hold and use it against him, smacking him in the face with a playful "How do you like it?" before dropping the thing altogether and reaching for his boyfriend to drag him in. Dan had only just caught his breath from the pillow to his face, but Phil didn't care as he wrapped his arms around Dan's waist and held him. Holding Dan like this was an amazing feeling, and Phil kept laughing into the crook of his neck, just happy to be holding Dan in his arms again at all. For a while, he'd thought he'd lost this. It didn't even matter that they were missing breakfast. Phil could do without it in favor of Dan. Once they'd both settled some, Phil hummed and moved his hands up Dan's back until Dan got the hint to look at him. "Hi," Phil greeted with a cheeky grin. "I missed you," he added, a little more sincere, closing his eyes when Dan leaned in to kiss him instead of answering.

Being with Phil like this, his hands rubbing over Dan's back and holding him close, was probably all that Dan wanted in life. His laughter died down and he was just enjoying how warm Phil felt against him. He could tell that Phil wanted him to look at him, though, so he lifted his head and gazed down at Phil with heavy, love-filled eyes. "Hey loser," Dan teased back. He didn't answer when Phil said that he’d missed him. Instead, he just leaned forward and connected their lips, showing just how much he'd missed him without words. Kissing Phil was like a breath of fresh air, and he sighed, lazily moving his lips against Phil's. He was glad that they didn't have to try and impress each other anymore, that they could just kiss like this without any judgement. Like this, Dan was truly happy.

Lazy kisses were the best kisses. The way that they could kiss and have no need to mean anything about it, no need to arouse or seduce or impress, those were the best kisses. Phil liked being able to just show Dan how he felt with no other meaning behind it, and he took advantage of that fact now. Last night had held so much more passion because of all of their heightened emotion, but this was a thousand times better. Phil didn't want it to end. So of course that's when the noise of a startled girl interrupted them, and Phil drew back from Dan with wide, surprised eyes only to find Valerie stood in the doorway, looking both annoyed and surprised.

Dan could drown in Phil. His lips were so soft against his, his fingers running soothingly over Dan's skin. He felt as if they were floating through their own little dimension, taking in all that they'd missed the two days they hadn't been talking. And oh, how Dan had missed this. He missed the way Phil felt under him, how he was so soft and warm. While he was smaller than Dan's own large frame, Dan still felt as though he was enveloped in Phil's warm arms. Their little world collapsed as a surprised gasp floated through the air. Dan flinched at the noise and straightened up, quickly turning to see Valerie standing in the room with them. He was positioned awkwardly, still crouched over Phil, so he slowly situated himself until he was sitting cross-legged on the bed next to Phil, his eyes narrowing at the blonde girl. "What the fuck are you doing here?" Dan asked. He was annoyed and didn't try to hide it. After everything she'd done to them, she still got to torture them? It took her a moment to answer because she was gaping at them, her eyes scanning over Dan's neck. Dan felt a bit proud at what she found there. "I- you- You're back together?" she sputtered, and Dan threw his head back with a laugh. "Back together? Sweetie, we never wanted to be apart," Dan told her with hostility in his tone.

Phil was beyond disappointed when Dan climbed off of him, seeming embarrassed to be caught in this kind of position, and while he understood and hardly wanted to share the intricacies of their sex life, he still wanted to shove the fact that it existed at all in Valerie's dumb face. He watched as the girl took in Dan's appearance and blotched up neck, and reached for Dan's hand to squeeze it in his, snorting as she asked if they were back together. "You should work on your lies if you ever actually want anyone to believe you. All it really took was one conversation to undo the misunderstandings," Phil explained, glaring at her and not even bothering to sit up. Valerie sputtered for a minute. "Dan cheated on you," she tried to argue. Phil glared, and held Dan's hand tighter in his. "No, Valerie. What you did to Dan was cheating. But you kissing Dan without his consent? That's not cheating. I really think you should leave, now. There's nothing here for you." Valerie's face was red with anger, and she opened her mouth to speak again, but Phil wasn't having it. "Dan loves me. And no one is ever going to change that." With a frustrated huff, Phil watched Valerie turn and toss her hair behind her. "Fine! It's not as though I ever loved him anyway!" she shouted as she left, and that was the only thing to get Phil to sit up. Immediately, he was turning to Dan, eyes wide and worried - because even if Dan was over her, that would never change the sting of your first love hurting you like that. "Dan?" he asked, taking both of his hands now. Dan looked stunned, but at least he wasn't crying.

The fight had lasted for only a moment, too quick for Dan to even get a word in edgewise. He was thankful for Phil being there, telling Valerie how things were, because he couldn't seem to get his tongue to form anymore words. He was pissed. Beyond pissed. He had already felt guilty about allegedly cheating on Phil, and Valerie had to go and rub it in his face. When she finally admitted defeat, screaming how she never loved Dan, Dan felt as though he'd been slapped in the face. Of course, he was completely over her. There was no ounce of love left over for her, but he couldn't help the thrum of hurt seeping through his skin. What about all of those nights they had spent together? The days when they would watch the stars and whisper sweet nothings into the air? Did that honestly mean nothing to her? He took a deep breath. It's over now and there was nothing else he could do. Phil's hands were taking both of his in a firm grip, making Dan come back down to Earth. He shook his head to dislodge the thoughts and instead grinned at Phil. It was fine, he was okay. He was hurt by her words but he would try to not let her get to him anymore than she already had. "At least she probably won't screw with our heads anymore," Dan tried to joke, but it fell flat in the air. He squeezed Phil's hands, smile faltering a bit but not disappearing completely. "I don't know if I was ever actually in love with her anyways. She used to be my best friend but," Dan shook his head, "that's not who she is anymore. If that was supposed to be love, then what I have now is better. I want to stop thinking about the past and move forward." Dan paused to lean forward and kiss Phil on the nose. "With you."

Dan's joke fell so flat, Phil wanted to cuddle him, only he didn't immediately get the chance before Dan was continuing to speak, squeezing Phil's fingers back just as tightly. The way he spoke though, echoed a strength that Phil had always known he carried. It made him happier than he could say, to know that Valerie couldn't get to him any more than she already had. "I want that. I want to be the best thing for you," Phil murmured, giggling as Dan leaned forward and kissed him on the nose. He let go of Dan's hands to instead cup his cheeks, smiling sweetly. "You're so strong, love," he added, and then leaned in to actually kiss him properly, chaste and sweet before pulling back and pushing Dan's fringe from his eyes. "I love you. I know I do. And she doesn't matter, because I'll always care for you. Regardless of what happens. You have my heart, Dan."

"I want you more than you'll ever know," Dan told Phil, smiling widely as Phil cupped his cheeks and told him just how strong he was. Dan didn't really agree, he was a pretty big wimp, but Phil thought so and therefore it must have some truth. They kissed then, one full of so much love even with such a chaste kiss, and Dan felt his heart swell in his chest. Fuck Valerie. Why should he care about her when he had the perfect boyfriend sat right in front of him? "I love you too, Phil. I've never felt this way about anyone before, and it makes my insides feel all tingly. I want to go through life by your side. You're- ah, you're just the best, alright?" Dan giggled. His emotions were so high right then that his throat was closing just from the swell of love in his chest. He grasped Phil's hands and kissed him once more, closed-mouth but hard, trying to convey just how fucking happy he was. When he pulled away, he was breathing heavily and grinning widely. "Shall we go steal some breakfast then? I'm starving." He then leant over and grabbed his hat, putting it back on top his mass of curls.

Phil's heart was doing somersaults in his chest, and when Dan leaned in to press their lips together hard, all he could do was kiss back and try to think past the love in his heart. All he wanted was to curl up in Dan and never leave him again, never leave this moment. He wanted to hold these tender feelings forever, never wanted to go through the past two days ever again, even though he knew one day in the future they would likely fight, because that's what happened. He just clung to the hope that when they did fight, they'd work past it. Sighing in disappointment as Dan requested they run to breakfast, Phil reluctantly agreed. "Alright, but only because I haven't been eating properly lately. Have you?" Phil asked, suddenly worried. "Kim didn't tell me much, only that you were worried about me." Phil got up, then, sad to be leaving Dan's bed, but determined that he would most definitely not be leaving Dan's side again for the rest of the day.

Dan giggled at Phil's obvious worry for his eating habit and tried to resist the urge to pull him close again. He settled for second best, curling their fingers together as soon as they were both standing and kissing Phil's cheek. "Admittedly I haven't eaten much either," Dan told him. "But that's okay. We can go eat so much that we'll be puking for days." He started to pull Phil through the cabin, feeling a little bit exposed due to his neck and the low cut material of his shirt, but he hoped that the jeweled jat would help him out a bit. He didn't care much anyways in all honesty. He loved the marks on his neck and didn't regret them one bit. He did however regret not marking up Phil last night and gave Phil's neck a forlorn glance. The hickies that were previously there were fading quickly. He'd have to change that sometime soon.

Phil snorted as Dan teased about them gorging themselves now that they were together again, but smiled grandly as Dan kissed his cheek. He felt like the luckiest person in the world, even more so when he turned his head to take in the marks pressed into Dan's neck. The reminder of how possessive Phil had felt, how... primal he had felt, made a shiver go up his spine. He hadn't thought he had that in him, but now he understood. He didn't miss the way Dan looked at his neck though, like he was disappointed, and grinned. "Are you upset you didn't get to mark me back?" he teased quietly. "Did you want to mark me up the same way?" he asked, and he meant the underlying permission there. "Because you can. I belong to you just as much as you to me." Besides, the thought of Dan getting his mouth anywhere on Phil was particularly good right now.

"I'll get you back later," Dan promised, squeezing his hand and giving him a teasing wink. "After all, I can't be the only one looking like my neck got mauled by a vampire. No matter how much I liked the treatment." They were coming closer to the dining hall and Dan realized then just how hungry he was. His stomach growled, confirming his suspicions, and he sped up his pace a bit, practically dragging Phil behind him. He wasn't lying when he said his eating had been a bit screwed up the past few days. He noticed Valerie when he walked in, seemingly quite pissed off, which gave Dan an extra pep in his step. He smirked a bit as he maneuvered them to the buffet table, grabbing as much breakfast food as they could fit on their plates. When they sat down, their friends grinned. "Glad to see you two together again," Mariah said softly. Dan smiled, looking over at Phil and squeezing his hand. "Me too."

Seeing their friends together was kind of relieving. Phil hadn't realized how much he'd made them all worry until he was sitting in front of them again, and they were turning concerned but gentle looks their way. "Sorry. About the last two days." Kim reached out to take Phil's hand across the table, squeezing quickly. "It's alright,” she whispered, offering them both gentle smiles. The others were quiet for a moment, seeming unsure of what they should said, and then, Caleb, who looked particularly pissed,b broke the silence with a heavy glare Valerie’s way. “Should we be planning on jumping someone today?” he asked, fingers clenched tightly into fists. Phil went to jump in and protest, but Dan beat him too it, shaking his head with wide eyes and a pleading expression as he went ahead and explained to everyone what had happened while Phil stared moodily down at his plate. He still felt terrible for ever having believed Valerie in the first place. He appreciated the fact that all their friends got angry on their behalf, though, and smiled lightly when they started to joke about what they would do to Valerie as revenge.

Being able to explain what had happened to their friends allowed a huge weight to lift from Dan's chest. They were all plotting what to do to Valerie as revenge and Dan was snorting with laughter, pressed to Phil's side like they were glued together. It was already starting off as a good day, and it was even better when the camp counselors announced that they were going to be doing fencing this week. Pretending to stab people with swords? Yeah, Dan was digging it. The other activity (much to Dan's pleasure) was an arts and crafts class, which made him practically wiggle in excitement. Maybe now he could actually finish painting Phil! Even though Phil seemed a bit sad at the mention of what had happened, Dan was trying to reassure him through gentle touches. He also brightened up after they began to joke around and Dan couldn't blame him either. Some of the things their friends were coming up with were priceless. By the time breakfast had come to a close, Dan was laughing so hard that he was practically crying, and he was feeling so happy that he could probably burst.

The best comfort to a hard time was having Dan there next to him, his presence reassuring and a reminder that Dan had already forgiven him for the horrible things he felt like he'd done. And Dan touching him all morning was a plus as a well. By the time breakfast was over, Phil was just feeling happy and lucky that things had turned out the way they had. As they got up to leave, Phil took Dan's hand in his, and held on tight. No one was going to make him let go until he absolutely had to. They walked close together to their first activity, fencing, and Phil had to keep reminding himself that this was actually happening and that there would be no Valerie around to interrupt anymore. Their friends constant stream of conversation helped Phil to relax as well, and then they were all being shown how to fence and given special clothing to wear to keep them safe from each other. Of course, Phil took Dan as his partner.

The chance to stab Phil with a sword? Yeah, Dan definitely had to experience that. Fencing was one of Dan's favourite classes apart from Archery, just because it made him feel like a knight in shining armour. Even if that's not exactly what it was, it was almost the same thing, and Dan lived for it. He wasn't exactly great at it (Mariah happened to be the fencing master), but he was alright and could probably kick Phil's ass considering he was just starting. As the teacher explained what they were supposed to do and they all put on their protective gear, Phil was by Dan's side. Partners again, and Dan had no issue with it at all. "I'm gonna stab you," Dan teased his boyfriend, knocking into his shoulder lightly. Phil rolled his eyes before putting on his protective headgear. "Not before I stab your ass," Phil told him, his voice muffled from the mask.

Phil didn't understand fencing. He tried to listen to the teacher and how she explained what to do, but he wasn't afraid to admit that he was completely and utterly distracted by Dan. It didn't help that Dan kept nudging him with the fencing sword, knocking their hips together and generally being cute, so by the time they were set free to practice on each other... Phil had no idea what he was doing. "Dan, I don't -" Phil tried to say, but Dan was already leaping at him, grinning and laughing as he shouted "On guard!" at Phil. Phil only had enough time to jump out of the way of Dan jabbing at him, and then he was laughing as well. "You're such an idiot!" he complained, randomly stabbing his fencing toy at Dan and getting nothing at all done as Dan stabbed at him back.

By the time their little game was finished, Dan had won far too many games and Phil had definitely not 'stabbed his ass'. He was giggling, gloating about how he had won to Phil, teasing at him and being all-around obnoxious. Phil was glaring at him but there was an undeniable twinge to his lips as if he was trying to hide a smile. "So what do I get for winning?" Dan asked, winking seductively at his boyfriend, watching as said boyfriend just shook his head at what he was implying. Just as Dan turned around to see how his friends had been doing with their games, he felt the blunt tip of the sword smacking his ass cheek and he squealed, face turning bright red. He whirled on Phil to find his boyfriend doubled over in laughter. "You literally just stabbed me in the ass!" Dan whined, pouting and crossing his arms. He changed his mind; Phil wasn't cute at all! His boyfriend was a dick!

Phil rolled his eyes as Dan began to tease him, a little put out he hadn't gotten to make do on his promise of stabbing Dan in the ass. The opportunity was quick to present itself to him, however, as just as Phil was about to reach out and shove Dan for implying that he got anything for being a jerk who didn't bother to teach Phil how to fence, Dan turned around, presenting his ass right to Phil. He couldn't help himself then - he reached out with his fencing sword, and poked Dan in the bum. Dan squealed, whining as he turned around with a face red as a tomato, and Phil could do nothing other than double over in laughter, dropping the fencing sword on the ground while he guffawed, and feeling like the real winner here. "You should see - your face," he gasped out.

Dan glared at Phil. "No more kisses for you for the entire rest of the day!" Dan told him, but his voice was pouty and made him sound like a baby. "That's your punishment!" Phil whined at him then, and Dan just shook his head, turning his head up. He couldn't help but crack a smile though at how domestic they were being. He saw Phil come closer to him and Dan tensed, willing himself not to give in no matter how hard Phil tried. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and steeled himself, crossing his arms over his chest and clenching onto the sword.

At first, Phil just kept laughing, play whining at Dan for threatening to take his kisses away, and then he took in the expression on Dan's face and realized that he was actually kind of serious. That realization hit Phil like a ton of bricks, and his smile wilted as he dropped the head gear he'd been wearing and made his way over to Dan's side. "Daaaan," he whined again, this time more seriously. "But... but I already lost you for two days. You can't be serious," he complained, pouting as well as Dan bit his lip and turned his back to Phil. Phil moved to stand in front of him, but Dan turned again, until Phil finally reached out and gripped his arms lightly. Dan didn't fight him, softening a little instead, and Phil felt his lips quirk. "What if I said I was sorry. Then could I have kisses?" he teased quietly, half sincere in his request.

Despite Dan telling himself that he wasn't going to give in no matter what Phil did, he couldn't help but soften when Phil mentioned how they hadn't kissed for two days. That much was so true that it hurt, and his eyes flickered over Phil's lips hungrily. If it were up to him, he would have already dragged Phil away and snogged him for hours until they got in all of the missed kisses. "I'm serious!" Dan said instead, but his voice came out less convincing than he intended and he cursed in his head. Damn soft spot for Phil. Then Phil was coming closer, gripping onto his arms, and Dan knew he couldn't last much longer. "Only if you prove you're sorry," Dan told his boyfriend, melting like putty under his hands. He both hated and loved how Phil could do this to him. "Then I might give you some kisses." He winked at Phil, licking over his lips and waiting for Phil's reply.

Pouting again as Dan demanded that Phil prove himself for the possibility of kisses, Phil let Dan's hand go, and then got done on one knee at his feet. Phil watched as Dan's eyes went wide, both mortified and giggling while his neck went a deep, embarrassed red. Phil, meanwhile, had the most serious expression he could manage on his face as he reached out for Dan's left hand. He took it in both of his, and then very quietly said, "Daniel Howell. I am so, so sorry for poking you in the ass with a fencing stick. If it will prove my love for you, I will kiss it better."

As soon as Phil got on his knee, Dan's heart was pounding in his ears. He couldn't hear anything else in the room, just Phil and his soft words. He was holding Dan's hand so delicately, face so serious, that Dan had a moment where his mind went blank. He felt as though he was in a romance movie and swore for a split second that Phil was going to propose to him. But then he was speaking and Dan's eyebrows rose in surprise. He then snorted, pressing his hand to his mouth. Phil wanted to kiss his ass in apology? God he would love to see that. But... What if Dan said no? An evil grin spread over Dan's face and he didn't miss the nervous expression that flickered over Phil's face. "No," Dan told him, smirking down at him. "Beg for it. Beg for me to let you kiss my ass."

Phil was absolutely floored. Dan could not be serious? Here Phil was, down on one knee offering to kiss his ass in public, and Dan wanted him to beg him for it? Phil's face was beet red, suddenly, as he stared up at Dan with his jaw dropped open. Dan was smirking at him, laughing with one hand pressed over his mouth, and waiting. Just waiting. He wasn't even joking, was he? Phil's expression hardened, and then he said "Please, Daniel. Please let me kiss your ass. I'll do anything to make it up to you," he simpered, eyes going pleading and wide. "Oh, please Dan. I'll even lick it if it'll make you feel better," he plead, and then lost it completely as he dissolved into his own laughter, falling over on the ground and curling into himself he was laughing so hard.

For a second, Dan didn't think he was going to do it. He was fully prepared for Phil to wimp out, to say that there was no way in hell he was going to do something that promiscuous. But then Phil's eyes went wide and his mouth opened and suddenly, he was begging. Begging Dan to kiss his ass. To do anything to make Dan feel better, even going so far as to say he'd lick it. If it weren't such a hilarious situation (people were even starting to look), then Dan might have been turned on by that. But no, instead, he was cracking up, laughing so hard that there were tears in his eyes and he was clutching his stomach. Still snickering, he turned so he was bending over slightly, ass right in front of Phil. "Well go on then," Dan giggled. "Kiss my ass."

When Phil finally had himself under control, he looked up only to find that Dan had quite literally positioned himself for Phil to actually kiss his ass. Surprised, but also grinning because they were both so freaking ridiculous, Phil pushed himself up so he was crouching, and kissed Dan's back pocket. He knew they had a little bit of an audience, but considering Phil had pretty much forced Dan to walk around with a possessively marked up neck, Phil decided this was only fair. He was grinning when he stood up to dust himself off, and then he was turning Dan and drawing him into his arms. "There. Kissed it all better," he insisted, arms around Dan's waist. "Now I want my kiss," he insisted, and leaned in to nuzzle his nose against Dan's.

For the second time that day, Phil surprised him. As if kissing Dan's ass was no big deal, Phil leaned forward and quickly pecked his butt cheek, making Dan burst into giggles all over again. He heard snickers behind them but he didn't care, not when Phil was standing up straight and bringing him in close. Dan shivered as Phil nuzzled his nose, his breath cascading over his lips, and Dan decided that Phil had earned a kiss from him. "C'mere, nerd," Dan whispered, and then he was cupping Phil's cheek and bringing him into the softest kiss they've ever shared, one that made Dan literally melt into his boyfriend's arms.

Dan's little giggle was the most beautiful sound Phil had ever experienced, and he sighed as Dan drew him in. There lips pressed together so softly and tenderly that Phil felt his heart tremble and burst with affection. Dan relaxed in his arms, body so lax against Phil that Phil felt light himself. How much Dan trusted him was apparent, even more so with the love in that sweet embrace. Phil didn't pull back for a long while, enjoying this sweet moment far too much, but when he did, he was giggling as well. "How's that for an apology?" he whispered, and smiled as he rested his forehead on Dan's. God, he'd nearly allowed himself to lose this. His heart panged, and he maybe held on tighter. Anything was worth having this with Dan.

Dan didn't want to stop kissing Phil, but obviously they had to when there was so much going on around them. Dan didn't open his eyes. Instead, Phil pressed his forehead to his, their breath mingling together, and Dan lost himself in the sensation of having Phil loving on him, holding him, making him feel as though he belonged right there in his arms. It was everything Dan had ever wanted and more. "That was a pretty good apology," Dan allowed his boyfriend, although he was still in the teasing stage, so he smirked when he opened his eyes again, connecting his gaze with the beautiful blue that he'd grown so used to in the past few weeks. "Would have been better if there wasn't anything between your lips and my ass though, if you get what I mean," Dan teased, throwing in a wink just to be annoying.

Phil flushed immediately, pulling back from Dan to stare around them and make sure no one had heard that. He just couldn't believe that Dan would say something like that so publicly. Didn't he know that was dangerous? But at the same time, it turned Phil on, remembering what it had felt like to eat Dan out the way he had. If he had his way, he'd ruin Dan for anyone else, learn how to be the best at every way of pleasuring Dan, but especially at that. So Phil stopped, pulled Dan back in, and whispered in his ear, "You'd like that again, wouldn't you? Having me lick you open. Maybe next time I can finger you too, really eat you out. You taste so sweet, Dan."

At Dan's words, Phil's cheeks were turning a pretty shade of pink and Dan had the urge to coo at him. He didn't, instead just giving him the sweetest look and wondering what he would said. What Dan didn't expect was for Phil to pull him back in to whisper in his ear, his words hot and dirty. Dan bit back a moan in the back of his throat. How could Phil just say stuff like that? Sure, Dan could joke about that, but Phil? He was absolutely serious, giving Dan a smug smirk, his breath sending shivers down Dan's spine. He ended up clasping Phil on the arm with a tight grip, trying to hold himself together as his breath hitched. Fuck, he could imagine it. Phil's fingers sliding into him, stretching him open while his tongue lapped at his entrance. Dan shivered, trying to shake those thoughts out of his mind so he didn't get a hard on in the middle of everybody. He ended up just gasping out, "God, Phil. I would fucking love that," before trying to catch his bearings. Once he was able to straighten his composure, he decided to play Phil's game back. "You like eating me out, don't you? Want to finger my tight hole?" Dan chuckled, closing his eyes and just letting the words fill his mind. "Maybe while you eat me out, I can suck your cock at the same time. I love having your cock shoved down my throat, so big and good while you fuck my mouth."

Phil was absolutely powerless to it when Dan suddenly griped his arm in a tight hold and pulled him even closer still to speak hot words back at him. Phil could feel Dan's ragged breath, could feel how Dan was effected by his words, but Phil was effected even more so, eyes fluttering shut as the breath was knocked out of him in a rush. He gasped against Dan's neck, pressing a quick kiss there in the hopes of calming himself a little, and then inhaled sharply as Dan went on. God. Phil wanted to finger Dan's tight hole more than anything in the world, but the idea of Dan sucking him off at the same time was absolutely intoxicating. Getting to stretch Dan open, taste his rim, taste all of him, licking deep inside that hole the way he had Dan's belly button...it was intoxicating. He wanted that so fucking bad. "Don't tempt me, Howell, or I will drag you off right now, and there is no way I am willing to hurt you. Wanna learn how to open you up to me properly, wanna learn how to make you feel amazing. I want all of you, to taste all of you, to have every inch of you memorized, all while you suck my cock. God, Dan, your mouth is amazing. You take me down so well. I wanna give that back to you as well. I want you screaming for me by the time I'm done."

Dan's fingers were twitching from the desire to just palm himself, to drag Phil away from everybody and allow him to have his way. But Phil was right, they needed to learn how to do this properly or else Dan could get hurt. He already knew how to finger himself open from when he'd stolen Brittany's laptop, but he didn't exactly know how to do it since he hadn't seen it done. He stored that information in his brain for later, to learn how to finger himself as quickly as possible so he could take Phil up on his offer. He didn't know that he needed it, wanted it so bad, but now that the subject had come up in conversation, Dan suddenly had a great desire for Phil to be sliding those long fingers into him to open him up. Shivering, Dan thought about what exactly Phil would be opening him up for one day, his words from last night about wanting to fuck him rang through his mind. Damn Phil, making him so horny in public. Although, that was probably his fault for making Phil kiss his ass, now that he thought about it. Dan cleared his throat, trying to contain himself by not smashing his lips to Phil's in the middle of their fencing class. "I swear to god, Phil. As soon as we get the chance, I'm going to hold you up to that offer. I can't wait to feel you pressing your fingers inside of me, eating me out while I swallow down that big cock of yours. By the time I'm done with you, I don't want you to be able to think about anything else other than my mouth all over your cock and your fingers stretching me out." Dan smirked and kissed the side of Phil's head teasingly. "Stretching me for something much bigger," Dan whispered in his ear, feeling completely dirty for what he was implying.

Phil... was not okay. His dick hurt, it was pressing so hard against his jeans, and he was practically panting against Dan's neck from his words alone. He didn't know when they'd have the ability to look up how to properly finger your partner, but Phil couldn't wait for the day, because he was never, ever going to be willing to try unless he'd done his proper research. Porn made it look easy, but Phil wasn't dumb, and he never wanted to hurt Dan if he could help it. He groaned into Dan's neck, though, because he wanted nothing more than to be stretching Dan open for himself. "Wish we were home. I'd - I'd learn just for you and take care of you right now if I could," he breathed out. "But we'll wait. And it'll be even better when we do." Surreptitiously, Phil reached down to adjust himself, blushing furiously as he tried to make it look like nothing was wrong. Then, he finally pulled away from Dan and took his hand to lead him away. "Lunch?" he offered, voice still wrecked from what they'd merely been discussing. At Dan's hesitant nod, Phil led him away. They caught up with their friends in the cafe, where Mariah shared a story about how she'd harassed Valerie during fencing, and they all laughed. Phil couldn't help that it made him feel better.

Now that Phil had mentioned wanting to research before doing anything, Dan was more determined than anything to do just that. He made mental notes in his head about how he could get away with stealing Brittany's laptop again, how he could look up what fingering entailed. "God, I can't wait," Dan whined, pouting his lip out a little bit. He was at the point where he wanted everything from Phil and waiting was torture. But of course he agreed because they really should go into a relationship knowing how to take care of each other. "Lunch sounds good," Dan grumbled and followed after Phil, trying to hide the rather large erection he was sporting from their dirty talk. When he'd told Phil to beg, that was certainly not the direction he was thinking that would go in, but he couldn't say he regretted it in the slightest. By the time lunch was nearing a close, Dan's awkward boner was officially gone and he was glad that Mariah's stories of terrorizing Valerie were distracting him from the sex beast of a boyfriend he had. Later that night, he was going to go on a mission to figure out how all of this sex stuff worked when you were gay, but for now, he could manage laughing maniacally while Mariah recalled how Valerie had ended up getting her hair caught in Mariah's sword. 'Accidentally', of course.

The afternoon wore on quickly after lunch, the group heading off to another painting class for Dan’s sake, and with Phil laughing at Dan when his boyfriend managed to get paint in his hair again. Phil towed him off to get it out for him, and they maybe had a quick make out session while they were at it. When they returned, their friends were in the game room having a go at the pac man game, which of course, predictably turned into a competition dominated by both Dan and Phil with Dan winning by quite the large margin. Everyone groaned as he cheered, but Phil kissed him reluctantly as a reward, and they were off once again to play another game. They were quickly running out of fun activities they actually felt up to doing, so Phil might have snuck off with Dan again, where they cuddled and made out under the kissing tree, with a determined Phil trying to give Dan a few new memories to think on instead of Valerie. The dinner bell going off interrupted them, and Phil pulled back from leaving another impressive array of hickeys this time under Dan’s shirt to groan and adjust his hard on his pants again. Dinner was another intense affair with Phil working to will his erection away, and then they were all dancing at the camp fire again, a tired Phil clinging to Dan but unwilling to let him go for the night. Their friends didn't mind, and Phil might have seen Mariah and Kim dancing a little too close, but he cast it from his mind as he held Dan close. Dan was careful to make himself small so he could tuck himself into Phil's arms, and Phil kissed the top of his head, swaying with him and content just to have a peaceful night like this. He was reluctant to leave Dan's side that night, but with another sweet kiss, he managed it. The clingy boyfriend thing aside, Phil really did miss Dan was he got ready for bed and climbed under the sheets, a bit put out that they'd been too tired from last night's adventures to do anything alone today. At the same time, for as much as Phil was disappointed that he couldn't spend more time with Dan, he was kind of... happy they hadn't had any time to run off and do something stupid, like attempt to finger Dan before either of them knew how to do it. It seemed like the best thing to give them both a chance to cool down from their dirty talking that morning. That didn't mean Phil had to like being away from Dan, though, nor did it mean he couldn't miss him. And he did. He missed him a lot. He just wanted to sit in Dan's back pocket and never have to leave his side. It was kind of ridiculous, but Phil was lonely, and a bit sad. Valerie had made him feel so horrible the previous two days, and he was still attempting to recover from it. He'd have been much happier if he could curl up in Dan's arms and remind himself that he was not alone, and that Dan loved him. Sighing kind of heavily, Phil managed to curl up in bed, and went to sleep.

As soon as Phil sent him off to bed with a soft kiss, Dan was on a mission. He couldn't get the mental image of Phil fingering him out of his head and he just had to find out what that was like as soon as possible. So when Phil bid him farewell and a good night, Dan took off into his own cabin. He showered, brushed his teeth, and got ready for bed just like the other boys did. The only difference was that as soon as everybody climbed into bed, Dan didn't bother trying to sleep. He stayed awake until he was absolutely positive everyone was sleeping. Only then did he lift his covers and tip toe as quietly as he could into the room where he knew that Brittany kept her stuff. His heart was pounding in his ears, each noise of the creaking floorboards way too loud, but eventually, he was able to grab her entire backpack and run out of the room and towards the bathrooms as fast as possible.

Once he was behind locked doors, Dan rummaged through the backpack like he was looking for buried treasure. He hadn't meant to come across it, he really hadn't, but his fingers brushed against something that felt like foil and he was pulling it out curiously, stopping his attempts at getting out her laptop. His first thoughts were Oh my god, why does Brittany have condoms at a summer camp? But then he found that he didn't care too much, especially when he could use them for his own personal usage. He ended up pocketing a few of them, grinning to himself all the while and cackling when he also came across packets of flavoured lube. Not exactly what he'd been expecting to find in Brittany's backpack, but they would definitely be helpful for when he and Phil actually did something.

After laying out the two treasures to his side, he finally pulled out the laptop. Immediately, he went onto Incognito and started searching how to properly finger somebody. He already knew the basics obviously, but he wanted to learn more, like how to do it so he could show Phil and finally, finally, have those long fingers pressing into him. He knew that he had a prostate, that he had to adjust to each digit one at a time, but how could he know how to do that without some visual representation? In other words, porn. Dan was definitely going to watch some porn. It was a strange experience trying to search for gay porn when Dan was really just used to seeing boobs and vaginas everywhere. Now he was seeing dicks everywhere, a compilation of boys giving head and even some bondage. Dan shivered. He wondered if Phil would be into bondage.

He ended up clicking on one of the more appealing ones with two boys that reminded him a bit of he and Phil. Obviously, he wasn't going to watch the whole thing, so he skipped ahead until things started to get heated, where the brunette was sucking down on the other man's dick. Dan squirmed uncomfortably, watching as the guy with black hair whispered praise back, telling him he was a good boy and that he was doing so well. The brunette then pulled away and Dan's face flushed red as he called the other man 'daddy'. Is that what guys did when they had sex? Did they call their partner daddy? Dan tried to stop thinking about it right then, instead focusing on how they started to prepare the bottom. He would store the 'daddy' issue to his mind for a later time.

He watched as the top started stretching the brunette out, pressing his fingers in and out slowly, one finger at a time, until he was a moaning, begging mess. It wasn't long before Dan found that he was horribly turned on just from watching, and he licked over his lips, starting to palm himself through his jeans. He cast a glance at the lube beside him, an idea striking him. Maybe... Maybe he could try to learn to finger himself now? It seemed as good of an idea as any and Dan grabbed the lube before he could go back on his thoughts. He was yanking his jeans down around his ankles as far as they would go, eyes glued to the screen. He double checked that the bathroom door was locked, and then took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He could do this. He was ready to learn.

Slowly, he spread the lube on his fingers, shivering at how cold it was. Figuring that it wouldn't feel very good if it was that cold inside of him, Dan rubbed it between his fingers in attempts to warm it up. The black haired man on screen was eating the brunette out while he fingered him, and Dan growled lowly in his throat, thinking about when Phil would finally be able to do that to him. He pressed the tip of his lubed index finger to his rim, circling around it experimentally, before slowly inserting it inside of himself with a deep breath. It was weird. He'd never had anything inside of him before, and while he wasn't expecting it to be pleasurable right off the bat, he also didn't think it would be so strange. But obviously since so many boys liked being fingered, it had to be good, so he continued. As soon as he was stretched enough, he stretched himself wider, his eyes squeezing shut as his second finger slid in with some resistance. To take his mind off of the weird feeling, he started to stroke his cock, humming as that took away some of the pain from stretching. He was soon bucking into his hand, deciding that it was safe enough to start scissoring his fingers - just like the man in the video. And that felt a bit strange too. He felt like he was so full and he only had two fingers in. Imagining it was Phil who was fingering him, he let his eyes flutter shut and curled his fingers.

"Fuck!" Dan gritted out, a flash of white hot pleasure filling him. He'd never felt anything like that before, and he was immediately curling his fingers into that spot again, rubbing his length faster, and biting his lip to stop the moans from leaving his mouth. He knew from reading that he must have hit his prostate, and he could hardly help himself from adding a third finger, pausing to give himself more time to adjust. He was a sweating, panting mess, his toes curling every time he hit that little bundle of nerves, and he knew he wasn't going to last long. He was barely paying attention to the two boys on screen anymore, instead thinking about Phil fingering him, stretching him wide open, hitting his prostate with well-aimed thrusts. When he ran his thumb over his slit, Dan gasped as he came all over his hand, accidentally getting it on the wall as well. His orgasm seemed to last forever, with Dan bucking into his fisted palm and backwards into his curled fingers, until he was just panting and sweating from what he'd just done. As he cleaned himself up quietly, shutting down the computer, all Dan could think about was how much better it would feel when Phil was doing it to him.

(Next)

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #phansdick #the summer #snowbunnylester

71 notes · View notes

spring-emerald · 7 years

Text

And he scores!

Summary:

“We are supposed to kiss, right? That’s how to get a score?”

“Wh-what?!”

Pairing: UshiMoni

AO3

Notes: I posted this. And this is for the two of you @tanakaryuu (since you said please ^^ ) and @haikyuumon (truth or dare? done. ^^) Universe is based on this head canon.

Moniwa likes to believe that he is a kind person.

True, he is timid and insecure to a fault, to the point of being perceived as weak and useless, and people may have taken advantage of this numerous times, but he finds it in his heart to understand and forgive them. He doesn’t even see it like that, or rather, he always chooses to look at the bright side.

But, as it is right now, maybe it’s about time that he reconsiders that part of his personality.

He curses the unholy trinity of Oikawa, Daishou, and Kuroo in his mind. Moniwa, by far, is not vindictive. But being cramped in this small space, not through any fault of his own, really does bring out the worse in a person.

He supposes that he’s lucky, that he is not someone they consider an enemy. But, being their friend isn’t something to be happy about either, especially if such friends are bound to pull embarrassing and deceitful stunts like this. There’s a nagging thought in the back of his mind that reminds him that he is not completely blameless in all of this. He knew what he was getting into by agreeing to play Spin the Bottle.

However, in his defense, he was figuratively stuck between a rock and a hard place. And, between answering a truth, or doing a dare, the latter seemed the lesser of two evils.

(He didn’t like the glint he saw in Oikawa’s eyes when he asked if Moniwa would go for truth, but he should’ve known that he’ll be screwed either way, anyway.)

As it is, he’s fairly convinced that those three probably rigged the game. A game wherein results are largely dependent on chance (and perhaps friction and bottle weight and smoothness…).

Nope. There’s just no other explanation for it.

He exhales sharply, harshly pulling on his hair, accidentally elbowing his companion in the process.

Ushijima deeply grunts at the impact and Moniwa bites back a curse.

“I’m sorry!”

Ushijima breathes out. “It’s alright,” he replies. Moniwa hears the sound of cloth being rubbed, Ushijima’s hand undoubtedly going over the spot he jabbed his elbows at.

“Are you still good?” His companion asks in a low, soft voice after a few moments.

“Huh?” He asks dumbly, then the question registers. Moniwa shakes his head in an attempt to clear it.

“Ah, yeah,” he lies.

Moniwa is far from good. If anything, it’s the worse. The closet was already small as it is, what with the hanged clothes and other garments–which no one even bothered to take out, just to make sure that it would be fit to be occupied– taking up most of the space. A person could well fit in there, but having two people, with one larger than most boys their age, makes it undeniably cramped and extremely stuffy.

And because it was already impossible to fit a tall person, much less someone with Ushijima’s height, they both had to sit, with Moniwa trying his damnedest to make himself smaller by hugging his knees close to his chest while tucked tight in the corner, and trying to meld with it. (No such luck in that regard, unfortunately.)

It’s not the most comfortable of positions, but he doesn’t want to bother Ushijima by invading his space. God knows how much he probably needs one.

“Uh, you?” He asks, after a few moments, because it is the polite thing to do.

Ushijima lightly hums in reply. Moniwa tries not to take the lack of response personally, but he pulls his legs even closer to himself all the same.

“I don’t understand why this game is called 7 minutes in heaven,” Ushijima says, out of the blue.

Moniwa slowly turns his head to the direction from where his voice came from, and vaguely makes out the other’s silhouette, barely illuminated by the light coming in from the vents. He is sitting the same way as Moniwa, sans the hands around his knees, and if anything, he actually looks more comfortable than Moniwa feels.

“Huh?” he asks, still startled that Ushijima started a conversation.

Ushijima bounces a shoulder once in a lighthearted shrug before continuing. “I mean, I’m not particularly religious, but this is not how I imagined it to be. Heaven, that is.”

Moniwa frowns at the statement.

What? What is Ushijima talking about?

“What?” He asks, voicing out his confusion. It might be the lack of sufficient oxygen inside the closet or the headache that he’s slowly building up, but he’s pretty sure his mind is playing tricks on him.

“And are we really ought to spend only 7 minutes? Are you not supposed to stay in heaven forever, once you get there?” Ushijima turns his head to look at him, and it might just be Moniwa’s imagination, but he squints his eyes and sees the other’s mouth curled in a small, amused smile, and his eyes are reflecting (from what little it could) something akin to playfulness.

Moniwa blinks once, then twice, until the gears in his mind sees fit to turn again and it dawns on him what Ushijima said.

His jaw promptly drops at the epiphany.

Ushijima just made a joke, and it was actually a well delivered one. And the best part? He knows it too, judging from the playful air still surrounding him. If it had been anyone else, they might have suffered a heart attack at the unexpected revelation.

Ushijima actually knows how to make a joke. Who would’ve thought?

Realizing that it he was being impolite by gaping, he shuts his mouth with an audible click and exhales an amused snort instead.

“Calling it ‘heaven’ is too much of a stretch, really. And yeah, my vision of heaven is more comfortable than this. So thank real heavens, we only need to spend 7 minutes in here,” he points out.

Ushijima hums noncommittally again, and Moniwa thought it would be the end of that.

“But why is it called as such?” Ushijima asks, and this time, the question really sounded like one. Moniwa had to observe (again) what he could see on Ushijima’s face, looking for a clue that says otherwise. He found none, and the continuing silence is becoming awkward, because Ushijima is still waiting for a serious response.

Moniwa finds himself dumbfounded again.

Didn’t Ushijima know what this is about? He couldn’t have dropped a punchline like that if he really had no idea.

“But… you joked about our situation, so that must mean you know what this is about.”

Ushijima hums thoughtfully. “I have heard of it from Tendou,” he agreed.

“He relayed a story about how this game was played during the party of one of his classmates. When I asked him about it, he told me that I was better off not knowing, and that I should not participate in such trivialities,” he explains with a small frown. “So I have never participated in one, at least, until now…” he trails off and Moniwa’s pretty sure that he is contemplating about it.

“What is it supposed to achieve?”

Moniwa just stares at Ushijima, before dropping his shoulders with a resigned sigh. Ushijima’s friend is a really good one, and he probably have his friend’s best intentions at heart when he warned him. But he also could’ve told him, just so Ushijima wouldn’t remain clueless.

He makes a face as he thinks about his options. On one hand, telling Ushijima will probably do the other good. So as not to fall victim to such schemes again. But, on the other hand, he really doesn’t want to be the one to sully Ushijima (and his innocence) with the knowledge of the different ridiculous things hormonal teenage boys get into.

But Ushijima is angled expectantly at him and it seems that he is really expecting an answer and well, Moniwa would hate to let him down like that.

“It’s called 7 minutes in heaven because…” He pauses and licks his lips. Oh man, he should have formulated a response in his mind before letting his mouth run off on its own. Whatever. He might as well. Who knows, it might be more beneficial for Ushijima to learn about this from him. He’ll just try to buffer it as much as he could.

“Because… well, I suppose it’s because good things are expected to happen while you’re inside with your, uh, partner,” he explains, though with a tone of uncertainty. He hopes Ushijima isn’t able to pick it, and that he hopefully would be satisfied with that.

“What good things?” Ushijima sounds even more curious right now.

Of course he would ask, given Moniwa’s luck. Or lack thereof.

“Well, uhm,” he starts, feeling heat creep up to his neck and face. “Things like, you know, uhm…kissing. Some even get to, uhm, t-touching. T-that sort of stuff,” he says, failing to sound casual as he had planned.

“Kissing? Touching?”

“Yeah” Moniwa’s voice pitched higher than normal. He clears his throat before continuing, “but I’m pretty sure it’s not a requirement or anything,” he says, waving a dismissing hand. “I mean, not that I would know, because I’ve never played this game before as well. I mean, I’m sure not all people do it. There are some that just talk it out until it’s time, nothing really has to happen, so…yeah.”

“But why kissing?”

Okay, Moniwa thinks. This is embarrassing enough and there are other things Ushijima should be concerned about, like how he’s supposed to feel his legs, if he is able to feel them again at all once they get out, or how pained his back would probably feel from being hunched like this.

Why is so hung up about the idea of kissing?

“Uh, usually, the people that are supposed to be inside are like, the ones who have crushes on each other, or with someone they like, or something like that and such. They wanted to, uhm, you know…‘score’,” he answers as best as he could, nodding to emphasize his point and stave off some of his nervousness.

When he turns his head to look at Ushijima again, he backs away immediately because of how close the taller one is leaning towards him.

“U-Ushijima-san!” He hisses scandalously.

Ushijima only blinks at him. “Yes?”

“What are you doing?” He whispers, tone taking a hysterical note.

“We are supposed to kiss, right? That’s how to get a score?”

“Wh-what?!”

“So let’s do it.”

Moniwa makes some sort of a strangled keening sound at the back of his throat and leans away some more, but his head bumps on the closet wall. Ushijima is close enough that his distinct scent floats towards Moniwa, suffocating him and is making him dizzy.

He involuntarily shivers at the feeling of warm breath on his face. He forces himself to meet Ushijima’s olive eyes, and sees the unmistakable glint of competitiveness. Suddenly, it dawns on him that. Ushijima completely misunderstood his explanation and thinks that it’s some sort of a point system.

He wants to smack himself upside the head, and Ushijima too, for good measure.

“Ushijima-san, wait…” he tries again, but he’s still steadily coming closer.

Moniwa’s mouth suddenly feels dry, so he wets his lips and did not miss the way Ushijima’s eyes followed the muscle. He feels dizzy and short of breath all of a sudden. He uncurls his arms around his knees and folds it down. He braces his hands on Ushijima’s broad shoulders instead, gripping the soft fabric of his shirt, not knowing whether to push the other away or pull him closer.

“Ushijima-san,” he repeats in a smaller voice, unable to get the words out. Settling himself for the inevitable, he closes his eyes when there’s only a hairsbreadth distance between their lips and waits for the moment that they would touch.

“Alright! Time’s up! Get out from there, you two boring people.”

Oikawa’s distinctive annoyed voice announces, with an impatient knock on the closet door, startles them, causing their heads to bump against each other rather forcefully.

They both groan at the pain and both reached for their foreheads at the same time. Ushijima leans away to be able to do so, but he remained on top of Moniwa, kneed on each side of legs. And not having completely recovered from the impact, the door suddenly opens, letting the harsh light in, and Moniwa moans in complaint, the hand previously rubbing his forehead now blocking off the light.

“What? Did you two take a power nap or someth- oh.” Oikawa purses his lips, and delicately places a hand over his mouth upon seeing the compromising position of the two closet occupants. He slowly lowers his hand and gapes excitedly at the two of them.

“Oh my god,” he gasps.

“Oikawa, it’s not what you think!” Moniwa says, completely horrified, as he scrambles to get up and pushes Ushijima away from him. Thankfully, Ushijima gives, and he’s regained a semblance of his personal space.

“Oh. My. God.” Oikawa, who looks like he’s discovered the secret to alien communication, steps away from the closet excitedly, ready to report what he had seen to the others.

“Oikawa, please!”

----------

By the time Oikawa’s done yelling and the other’s arrived, Moniwa had mostly gotten Ushijima off him, and they were already standing awkwardly outside, with Moniwa maintaining a safe distance, while Ushijima just looked confused about the whole thing.

Thankfully, he found an ally in the form of Sawamura, being the only one sane and authoritative enough to control the situation. Moniwa is all ready to die because of embarrassment when he asked them what happened. He’s grateful that Sawamura didn’t push them when neither of them responds and instead took Ushijima aside to explain things to him in private, not trusting Kuroo to do it, even when the latter volunteered.

This left Moniwa at the mercy of the Unholy Trinity, with only an equally hopeless Akiyama, who’s rubbing comforting hands on his back, his only support. Okudake, and surprisingly, Bokuto, seemed to have taken pity at him, and asked the three others to stop teasing him already. But Moniwa can only take so much, so he still asked to leave, and be left alone.

Now, he’s currently at the boarding house’s communal kitchen, nursing a cup of hot chocolate, and contemplating about how he’s going to face Ushijima again. It would be virtually impossible to avoid the other, and that would be too blatant, seeing as they belong to the same class and even live in the same house. Besides, he doesn’t want this incident to affect their circle of friends.

But what if the other doesn’t want to be friends with him anymore? Moniwa doesn’t think he can live with that kind of set-up. And he really doesn’t want Ushijima to dislike him. Their time inside the closet had given him a glimpse of Ushijima’s personality, and he still wanted to be able to see more and know more about that.

And, granted that it was Ushijima who misunderstood in the first place, but still, he just feels guilty about the whole thing. He feels that he should’ve explained more clearly; should’ve checked if Ushijima really understood, because now, who knows what Ushijima thinks of him.

He groans and drags his hands across his face, unable to find a solution to his current predicament.

“Moniwa-san?”

Moniwa jumps from his seat and immediately turns around and sees Ushijima standing at the kitchen’s entranceway, obviously uneasy. His face instinctively gets hot and he quickly averts his gaze.

A short, tensed moment of silence pass. Moniwa’s already overthinking about the reasons why Ushijima’s here, and at the same time, thinking about his explanation and apology, but is not capable of such at the moment.

“I’m sorry!”

“I’m sorry.”

They blurt out at the same time. They both snap their eyes at each other, but Ushijima, not one to beat around the bush, recovers first and steps forward with a look of concentration on his face.

“Sawamura explained everything to me,” he starts. “I have misunderstood the concept of the game. I apologize for making you uncomfortable and putting you in that kind of situation.” He bows his head in apology.

Moniwa frantically stands up from his seat, rattling the stool in the process, and wildly waves his hands in front of him.

“Oh, god, no! You don’t have to apologize!”

“But I harassed you.” Ushijima knits his brows. “Believe me, it wasn’t my intention.”

“No. I could’ve stopped you,” Moniwa exclaims. “Should have, stopped you.” His shoulders hunched as he curls into himself.

“But I didn’t. So, it’s partly my fault too.” he continues in a small voice.

Ushijima remains quiet for a few seconds. “I still should’ve asked your permission first, before I did that.”

Moniwa’s ready to contradict Ushijima, but his train of thought derails at the statement. “Wait, what?” He blinks up owlishly at Ushijima. He can’t be sure he heard right, but Ushijima’s worried about not asking his permission…?

What?

“But… but it’s just a dare. You didn’t… I’m not even,” Moniwa says uncomprehendingly, making vague gestures with his hands.

“You don’t even like me,” he finally says. “And I almost took advantage of your inexperience.”

Ushijima frowns at him, and Moniwa distinctly feels that he said something wrong. “But I like you.” Ushijima says it so simply, he might as well have been commenting about the weather.

Moniwa’s jaw drops and he blushes for the nth time.

“And I’m not opposed to the idea of kissing you.” Ushijima steps closer, narrows their gap until Moniwa is within his arms reach.

“So, may I?”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #ushimoni #ushijima wakatoshi #moniwa kaname #special participation of one #oikawa tooru #hq fanfic #tanakaryuu #haikyuumon #whew

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