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formerprincess · 3 years

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A tale written with fangs and claws || Chapter 61

Chapters: 61/? Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken, Corey Bryant/Mason Hewitt Characters: Liam Dunbar, Theo Raeken, Mason Hewitt, Corey Bryant, Nolan (Teen Wolf), Brett Talbot, Lori Talbot Additional Tags: Alpha Liam Dunbar, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, Dunbar Pack, Bisexual Liam Dunbar, Werewolf Theo Raeken, Alpha Theo Raeken, Canon-Typical Violence, Smut, Mates, Liam and Theo are mates, Top Theo Raeken, Bottom Theo Raeken, Top Liam, Bottom Liam Dunbar, Bisexual Theo Raeken, Original Character(s) Series: Part 1 of Morning Dew Pack

Maddie and Asher follow Liam's invitation. He also learns new things about were cheetahs and Theo gets a new job from an unlikely source.

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"Anyways, he invited the whole core pack to a BBQ. It's nice meeting with Luka. I learn so much about general history and other things. That's alright with you?" Liam switched his cellphone from the right hand to his left so he could reach for a shampoo bottle with his right. He was currently doing some shopping before his shift at Ellie’s started and also used the time to have a phone conversation with Byron. Byron chuckled softly. "Why shouldn't it be?" "Dunno. Maybe because you think I'm replacing you? Rather listen to him than you?" Byron sighed softly. "Liam, I am well aware of my own age. It is very noble of you to care about my feelings in that matter but I have to tell you not to worry. I know you listen to me but having another werewolf, an Alpha even, closer to your own age group, gives you undoubtedly the advantaged to see things from a different perspective. You young people see the world differently than we do, that is perfectly fine. You can never know too much and different viewpoints allow you a better understanding of things. I am not worried you will forgo my advice or replace me with Luka. In fact, I am excited you get to make this experience with other Alphas and leaders of supernatural groups." Liam exhaled and smiled. "Good. I am grateful for all of you taking your time to teach me things, explain things to me. Especially at the moment, I feel I'm learning so many new things about our world. Things I never ever thought of before." "Your willingness to learn is one of your most admirable traits. When we met, it was one of the first things I noticed", Byron praised him. Liam meanwhile opened the shampoo bottle and sniffed. He grimaced. Way too chemical for his liking. He hastily closed the bottle and put it back on the shelf. "I try my best. The way I see it, knowledge makes me a better Alpha. Which, funnily enough, is an insight I share with Scott." "You're right. Knowledge is always good." Liam found another shampoo he liked and took it to the cash register. Byron meanwhile reminisced. "I think I met Luka's parents once. Unless there is another pack with the same name in North America, which I highly doubt. Insightful and willing to listen. Remarkable people. It appears, their son takes after them." "Wow, maybe one day you two can meet and you can tell him that. I'm not sure when his parents died exactly but he still grieves them and hearing about them will surely make him happy. Maybe you can also meet Savannah and Maddie." He considered this a good idea. Byron hummed approvingly. "I'd love to."

"One second, Byron." Liam found it incredibly impolite to check out and be on the phone so he paused the call and turned his full attention to the cashier once it was his turn to pay. The transaction didn't take long and Liam left the store with his shampoo. Only then he picked up the conversation again. "Sorry, had to pay." Byron hummed again and Liam remembered a question from earlier he had wanted to ask: "You said it's highly unlikely two packs with the same name existing in North America. Why?" "I guess I should have worded it better. There is a chance of another pack having an Alpha named Barrett, it is not an incredibly rare name, but the possibility of the other pack referring to themselves as Barrett Pack is rare. You know, Liam, packs can have all kinds of names. A lot of them take their Alpha's last name. McCall, Hale, Barrett. Others, like ours, derive their names from the world around them or things connected to them. Red Ambers Pack, The Creek Pack, Silver Eyes. What all those names have in common is they are exclusive to those packs, simply because no one wants to be dragged into another pack's business because they share the last name. Imagine another pack, full of brutal and disruptive wolves, being called Dunbar Pack. One day someone shows up at your door and causes trouble. You would be furious. It's common werewolf etiquette to not have an already taken name. Also an etiquette stemming from old times." "Why do I now imagine all Alphas visiting an office where they register their names and pay the registration fee?" Liam snickered. Byron laughed wholeheartedly. "It's a nice image. Most come from hearsay, to be honest. And, in case of a pack having their Alpha's last name as pack name, the name changes with the Alphas. Unless it's another family member taking over, but that goes without saying." Liam pondered. "So our pack would have gone from Fairclay Pack to Dunbar Pack, if it weren't for Morning Dew." Liam opened his car and put the shampoo bottle on the passenger seat before he closed the door and locked his car again. Now he made his way toward's Ellie's store. "Exactly", Byron confirmed. "I like it better that way. Think of the poor registration office. All this paperwork for a name change." Byron laughed again and Liam joined him. "My shift's about to start, Byron. Talk to you later." "Take care, Liam."

He ended the call and pocketed his phone. The store was very central, with many shops around, and Liam used it to run some smaller errands quite often. When he now arrived at his workplace, Ellie was on a ladder. “Didn’t I tell you to wait with restocking until I’m here?” Liam asked lightly and sidestepped a few empty boxes. His boss placed a box on the shelf. “You mean because you’ll heal faster if you fall from the ladder?” “I…yeah. Besides I’m your young employee. Use me.” “I want to take up that task in case you have no use for Liam!” Carlie yelled from somewhere between the shelves. Her friends giggled. “Carlie.” Liam smirked. “What about Theo? He would get jealous of me for having you.” Theo had visited Liam in the shop before and as expected Ellie and her friends had fawned over his charming personality. “I take both of you!” They all laughed and Ellie thankfully climbed down from the ladder to let Liam take over.

He was working away for a while when the door opened and Theo entered the shop. He didn’t even need to open his mouth, the feeling of resignation and frustration pouring through their bond was enough. Liam gave him a pitiful glance. “The job interview didn’t work out.” Theo completely skipped over Liam already knowing his emotional state and just continued. “They wanted a twenty-year-old with thirty years experience and I can’t offer that. Tried telling her I’ve been to hell. She thought that was a joke.” "I'm sorry." Liam meant it and went to console his boyfriend. He hugged him tightly and Theo clung to him. He wanted to work again and Liam always felt a pang of guilt. Theo had hated working at the diner but he had been working and because his Alpha pressed, he was now jobless. "It's just...It's starting to get borderline ridiculous! Seattle is not a small town, how can nobody be in need of a healthy college student willing to get his hands dirty? Bullshit!" Theo ranted and Liam let him. It was only logical Theo needed to air out his frustration.

"Don't mind me barging into your conversation", Ellie appeared next to the couple. "But, Theo, if you really want a job, I can offer you one. Liam said you two wanted to work together after college anyway. Why not start now?" "That would be possible?" Liam asked surprised. She shrugged. "I see why not. There is more than enough work for the two of you. Also, two strong young men are always better than one. Carlie, don't even comment on that one!" "I didn't say anything!" Carlie shrieked and Theo laughed. "It sure sounds like fun." He looked at Liam. "Is this okay for you?" "Yeah, I don't mind." Liam really saw no issue with that. Ellie was right, they wanted to work together someday, might as well as start now. "Then, yeah, I'd love to accept, Ellie. Thank you." Theo was extremely grateful. She was happy. "Amazing. We can later talk about all the details. I'll offer you the same contract as Liam." He understood that. "Any rules for working together as a couple?" "Boy, you visited Liam several times since he started working here. I never had to fish you out of the storage room or the back office. I'll take the chance." "We are professional!" Liam squawked. Ellie shot him a grin. Then she pumped her fist. "Not me being selfish but there will be some deliveries arriving soon. You two strong men can take this, right?" "Absolutely", Liam promised and pulled Theo along to show him everything.

****** Working with Theo was easier than Liam imagined it to be. Sure, he would have never made the suggestion for their own coffee shop had he doubted that but it was even easier than in his imagination. They worked well together and knew how the other would react in certain situations. They also fell in an easy working rhythm without speaking so much. "Is it really okay for you? Me working here?" Theo still asked when they were storing the deliveries later on. "Yeah, sure. I don't mind in the slightest." Liam opened a box and began handing Theo things. The Second Alpha sorted them meticulously. "Just wanted to check, so you don't feel like I'm intruding or whatever." "You're not. We want to have our own store one day. This is a great exercise." Liam gave him a big smile which Theo returned. "Besides, Ellie is a great boss, you'll see. Makes life easier." "Easier?" Theo inquired and grabbed another box from Liam to store it away. Liam grunted. "She knows about us being werewolves. We don't have to find silly excuses if anything comes up. I had to lie so often in Beacon Hills and come up with stories to cover. Now my boss knows what I am, my coach knows, even my most important family members know. I don't have to lie anymore and that makes things so much easier. My friends all are either supernatural themselves or involved with the supernatural one way or another. I can be honest, and just be me, you know? It feels so much better", Liam confessed. "It truly is easier", Theo admitted. "Ellie is my first boss in known about the supernatural, it's quite a luxury for me." He gave Liam a cheeky grin and Liam laughed. "You don't mind working with me, right?" He then inquired. "If I did, I wouldn't have accepted the job offer. I'm desperate for a job, but not that desperate." Theo sorted the last thing and handed Liam the label maker. "I'm sure there was a compliment somewhere in that sentence", the young Alpha nagged but didn't mean any harm. Theo understood and scoffed playfully. But then he grew serious. "It's actually quite soothing for my wolf. Being around you, knowing where you are." "Knowing where I am? You know where I am, even if you're not here with me." "It's not that. I know where you are, yes. But are you safe? That's how the mating bond manifests for me. By the urge to protect you every time and at all cost." Liam loved Theo with all his heart and he loved the protective streak the older one had developed for him. Yet... "I like that and I appreciate that. However, I am perfectly capable of protecting myself." "I know you are", Theo confessed, "And that scares the crap out of me." "Huh?" Liam frowned in confusion. Theo grumbled. "One day, I fear, I will be too slow. And you jump headfirst into danger, probably sacrificing yourself for us, and I won't be able to protect you and keep you from doing it. One day, even though you're perfectly capable, I'm afraid a bad guy will get lucky and you will die." Theo shuddered and Liam smiled softly. He put his things down and moved closer to his boyfriend. "I protect myself as good as you do. I will never leave you like this, okay?" "Hm. Promise?" "Promise." Liam kissed him. Maybe it was a dangerous promise given their life but at this moment it felt needed. The sheer thought of one of them not returning after a fight was terrifying and cruel. So acting as if they had complete control over their fate was the only thing to stop the thoughts from going down this path. Theo responded to the kiss but then poked Liam's side. "Come on, let's get those things to Ellie. She didn't hire us to make out. That would be a different line of work."

Liam snickered but then grabbed a box and followed his boyfriend back into the store. "Before I forgot, Sadie and Mason plan on taking you shopping to your new friend Savannah's boutique. Told me before I left." "Me??" Liam shrieked and Ellie looked at him in shock. "Yep. Sadie stalked Savannah online and wants to see the stores. Mason's all for that idea but both agreed it would be rude to show up there without you. So, you have to be the sacrificial lamb, puppy." "No", Liam said firmly, "I'm not going shopping. You all dressing me up once was bad enough. No way!" "Tell them that. I'm just warning you."

The young Alpha grumbled and Ellie chuckled. Liam decided to change the topic slightly. "Luka said he would also invite Savannah and Maddie to the BBQ. I'm really excited to have you all meet. They're cool. It's nice hanging out with them." "Or texting with them", Theo teased. It was true, especially Savannah sent a lot of texts but she never expected a decent answer and just spammed with various things. Maddie, her sister in spirit as the two called themselves, responded equally excited and Liam's phone was buzzing significantly more since he met them. "Are you jealous?" "Me? Of what or whom?" Theo asked surprised. Liam shrugged. It had crossed his mind, he still remembered Theo's jealousy regarding Scott once. "Of Luka maybe?" "Why? Because you had a lunch date?" Theo joked and began tidying up behind the cash register. "It wasn't a lunch date. Not even a date. Just two friends getting something to eat. I do the same with Mason." The Second Alpha shook his head. "I'm not jealous. You're friends, you clearly respect each other and I see how happy it makes you. You see it as a chance to exchange views and advice. How could I be jealous of that?" He paused. "I mean, he is handsome and I know you noticed this as well. You have a type, puppy. Charming men with dark hair. Only natural you find him attractive." "I don't have a type." Liam had begun to fill the displays around the cash register and now shook his head. Theo raised his fingers while he enumerated. "Brett. Me. Luka. Even some of your exes. All fit the bill." "No." Liam scrunched his nose. Though he was not so sure about that one. "Hayden, for example, didn't fit the description." "Yeah. This particular type you have is reserved for males only. I met all your ex-girlfriends and when it comes to women you go for different types. But almost all your ex-boyfriends or crushes share the same traits." Flawless logic but Liam would rather swallow his tongue than directly admit that. "Okay, so what? He is attractive. Doesn't mean I want to start something." "Never said you do."

"Can the old coot give you advice?" Ellie injected. Both men looked at her. She shook her head. "Don't do that to each other. Don't tell yourself you're not allowed to find someone attractive just because your partner might get jealous." "I'm not jealous", Theo clarified. "I know you're not. It's just general life advice from an old lady." "You're not that old", Liam mumbled but continued to listen to her. "I saw relationships end over this. Because one partner thought they were not allowed to find anybody else than their partner sexy or handsome. It's ridiculous. Finding a person attractive says nothing about feelings or ambitions. Just like you said, Theo, it's a preference, a type. But this irrational of making the significant other jealous can become such a pressure, it ends in a breakup. And yet somehow society began telling people, young people, this is how it should be. It shouldn't. It's toxic. My advice is to see it as easy as you two do. A little bit of jealousy is good and I know there is a thing called emotional cheating, that is wrong, but not taking things too seriously is the best way to handle it. I am in a happy marriage and we both find other people handsome. Doesn't mean anything." Liam and Theo looked at each other. "I think we got that one covered", Theo muttered and Liam nodded with a smile. "Yeah."

****** "I hate you and regret all my life choices up to this point." Maya had her arms crossed in front of her chest and glared at the building ahead of her. "Why am I here?" Liam put his arm around her shoulders. "You know you love me and your life choices were good. But if I get dragged down by them, I need to drag someone with me", he explained sardonically and pointed at Sadie, Mason, Brett, and Corey currently gushing over the shop window of Savannah's boutique. Mason had managed to convince Corey and Brett to accompany them and they had excitedly agreed. Liam had decided for that alone they all would get one Christmas present less. Or a lump of coal. "Liam, look, they have suits." Mason was already at the entrance. Coal was a good idea. "And bowties!" Or nothing at all.

The boutique was perfectly illuminated and the carpet was held in pastel colors. One ground floor and a first floor, connected through circular stairs. Several clothing racks and shelves with all kinds of garments were placed around. Liam didn't know where to look first. "Welcome, welcome." Savannah walked towards them looking stunning as always in black heels, white ripped jeans and a black spaghetti top. She smiled brightly at Liam before she hugged him. Then she introduced herself to the others. "I am Savannah. Feel free to look around and see what you might like. If you need help, don't hesitate to ask. And shut up, those earrings are adorable." Just like that, Sadie had a new best friend. Both women excitedly greeted each other and soon enough their friends all swarmed the place. Maya stayed next to Liam. "You look out of place. Are you alright?" Savannah asked. "I don't like shopping", Maya admitted. "I just can't spend hours browsing a clothing store. It's just not me." "That's a shame. I think everybody should enjoy buying things for themselves. We try to give customers that here in our store. But maybe we can help you. Pilar!"

A dark-haired woman in Savannah's age showed up at the top of the staircase. "Yeah?" She called out while she walked down the stairs. She wore sneakers, grey shorts, and a colorful top. "Guys, this is Pilar, she works here with me and is also one of my Betas. Pilar, those are Liam and Maya. Maya hates shopping. Think you could help?" Savannah moderated the getting to know each other. To Maya, she further explained: "Pilar is great with clothing and has this unique talent of always finding something a person likes. I swear, she will make this a fun experience." "Oh, great." Maya still didn't seem convinced but she gave Pilar a brave smile when the were cheetah grinned proudly. Then she swiftly pulled her long, wavy hair up in a bun and studied Maya. "Tell me about yourself. Are you more tomboy or more sporty? Dresses yes or no?" "I'm not a tomboy. I'm simply not interested in too much makeup or dresses. Don't know if that makes me a tomboy already?" Pilar hummed. "What are your hobbies? What do you care for?" "Painting, I care about the environment, protests," Maya started to list. "Environment, amazing. We have a collection of local-made eco-friendly clothes here. I make all of them, so I know what materials were used and how. Maybe we can find something there?" Maya looked suddenly incredibly happy and followed Pilar up the stairs again.

Savannah grabbed a polka-dotted bowtie in blue and white and held it up to Liam. "You would look pretty in a bowtie." "Absolutely not!" Liam shook his head. She laughed. "Relax, I'm just messing with you. You're not my dress-up doll." He chuckled. Her humor was something you had to like, otherwise you might feel insulted or ridiculed. But Liam got it. "You're coming to the BBQ?" "Later, I think. It's a busy day here and I cannot plan in advance when we will be done. Stocktaking, you know? I'll keep you guys updated." She smirked. "I wonder what his house looks like. Is it big? Small? Maybe even bigger once inside." "Are we still talking about Luka's house?" Liam questioned. Savannah clicked her tongue. "Maybe. Maybe not." Her eyes flashed light blue. Liam narrowed his own eyes in concentration. "Are your eyes always this color? Or did they change after you did become an Alpha?" "Blue, you mean? It's the default eye color for cheetahs. Our Alphas don't have different colored eyes than the rest. Blue for everyone." "Wolves only have blue eyes once they took an innocent life. Hence why I'm asking." The blonde shook her head. "We don't have that." Savannah wrapped one arm around Liam. "Now, tell me, any life updates? Things I should know about? Should I take time off work for a wedding?" "My wedding is in a few years, don't stress." Liam blushed. She cackled and let go of him when three women passed the store window. They waved and Savannah waved back. "The brunette one is Beatriz, the redhead is Paola, and the one with the black hair is Carmen. They make the rest of my pack." "Your pack is solely women?" Liam was surprised. "I mean if you don't count our parents, yeah. It's not uncommon for were cheetahs. We are matriarchic minted packs most of the time. It has its origin in the myth of the first were cheetahs. We originated in Africa and there was a village. The old king had been okay-ish to the women in the village. Not the most supportive fella but not bad either. But he got dethroned and killed. The new king made women fair game. They had to serve the men, were mistreated, abused, raped, were no more than slaves. One night the women fled into the wilderness. But without any food or weapons, they were scared and so they prayed to the highest gods for help. One heard their prayers and decided to help them in exchange for something. The women would get the powers to overtake their oppressors and in return, they would forever serve the cheetah goddess. Thus were cheetahs were born." Liam marveled. "I have no idea how werewolves were created. It is so cool you guys know your origin story." "Well." She looked rather proud of herself. "It's tradition and we're proud of it. No, we don't hate men. That's not what this is about." "Who hates men?" Mason appeared next to them. "Nobody." Liam ducked last minute before his best friend managed to place a pink tie around his neck. He just didn't count on Corey appearing behind him and placing a small tiara on Liam's head. "We crown you Alpha of our hearts!" Liam wanted to be mad. But it was hard when he was already laughing. "You're ridiculous!"

****** "Do we have everything we need? Are you sure it's fine? Maybe we should have picked up wine? I don't know." Corey stood in the kitchen and nibbled at his thumbnail. He had begun that after running his hands through his hair and destroying his hairstyle three times in a row which almost caused a nervous breakdown on Mason's part. Liam reached out and gently tugged his friend's hand away from his mouth. "Wow, you are nervous. Relax, it's only Maddie and Asher." Corey groaned. "I know. But I feel this is the first time Mase and I represent this pack as emissary and consultant. Yes, you are here but nobody else is, and what if something goes wrong?" "Corey, you advised me in the past", Liam reminded him. "I know but that was in group settings. This time, it's just us." He pointed at himself and Mason who also seemed incredibly nervous. Liam almost pitied them. "Look, I felt the same way before the Alpha meeting. But it turned out fine. Maddie's a great character and I'm sure Asher is as well. I mean, otherwise, they surely wouldn't be friends." He exhaled. "I also don't think you two are even capable of starting a war or offend somebody. I know you. Mason, you're great at diplomatic stuff, and you, Corey, are great with keeping the peace. I trust you." Sometimes as an Alpha, you had to give a pep talk. Liam could relate to the anxious feeling and the fear of destroying everything but he absolutely believed in his consultant and his emissary. He would have never given them those positions otherwise.

The doorbell rang. "Okay, relax!" Liam felt like a father protecting his kids from trouble in school as he now made his way towards the front door and Mason and Corey followed closely.

And then he opened the door. "Liam! I brought the playdate for your boys" Maddie announced cheerfully and with the biggest grin on her face. She stood at the front door alone, Asher still at the car which he currently locked. Other than last time Liam saw him he was now wearing jeans, sneakers, and a grey henley. It fit him better than the suit. More like him. And it seemed like his best friend had not bothered to wait for him. It also seemed as if he was used to this given he didn't even comment on it when he now joined them at the door. "I'm thirty-one. I don't need a playdate!" He now corrected her playfully exasperated. He smiled at Liam. "Hi, I'm Asher, please ignore her." Maddie opened her mouth in mock outrage and Liam laughed. "Hi, I'm Liam, welcome. Those are Corey and Mason." He stepped aside and pointed at his friends respectively. Both raised their hands. "Hey." "Hi." Maddie had overcome her faked shock from before and stepped into the house. She continued the conversation with her best friend as nothing happened. "No, what you need is some happiness fucked back into your soul." "Oh my god!" Asher glanced at the ceiling as if he asked higher powers for help. Then he gave Liam, Mason, and Corey an exasperated glance. "Please, double-ignore her." "You can't ignore me! You love me!" She reminded him gleefully. He sighed. "I wonder why." But the banter between the friends managed to break the ice, Mason and Corey warmed up immediately, and smiles spread over their faces. "You just stepped into the house, so you don't need an extra invitation", Mason mused. Maddie nodded. "No, I don't need this. We can enter any house unless a or mountain ash barrier prevents us. Speaking off, you have one outside, right? I felt it." "A ghostly barrier created by our witch, yep", Corey confirmed. "You were only able to pass because Liam invited you. Other supernaturals without invitation would have not been able to get over it. But it's amazing you could feel that." "Sometimes we can feel those things. Not always", Maddie explained.

Mason was already on the case and lead them to the dining room where they had put the bestiary and Corey's computer. "He needs to write this down." Liam knew his friend. Maddie pointed at Asher. "I have one of those as well." Asher was more interested in what Corey and Mason had gathered. "Is that a bestiary? I've heard about those but never saw one before. Wow. How did you get that?" "From friends. Yeah, I think that's a good explanation." Corey kept it simple. It didn't need more explanation for the moment, the three of them started talking animatedly. Meadow and Liam retreated into the kitchen.

"I know it's weird. A human and a vampire being best friends. But he makes me feel normal." She smiled weakly. "I don't think it's weird." Liam shook his head. "Mason and I were friends before I became a werewolf but after I finally came clean to him, it was good to have him. To know not everything is supernatural. Sometimes I need this. Normality. I understand what you're saying." Maddie seemed happy he understood and looked at the three men. They were still deeply involved in their exchange, didn't even notice their friends being gone. "I think this was a good decision", she said quietly. "Yeah? That's good." Liam was also pleased it worked so well. She sighed. "He doesn't have many friends. Acquaintances, yes. But not those I-can-call-you-at-three-in-the-morning-because-my-whole-life-is-exploding-right-now type of friends. It's good he's meeting new people." "I thought Asher was part of your coven." Had Liam been wrong? "No, he can't be", Meadow declined, "See, vampires are independent beings. We can form covens but even then we tend to ourselves. I told you I can walk around during the day but at night, vampires are more active. You won't find a vampire sleeping during the night unless they're forced to. Our rhythm is completely different than a human's. It's not like your pack, you are humans as well. We have a human side and yet we're detached from the human living. Having a human in a vampire coven wouldn't work." It made perfect sense Liam just had not considered it before. Logical. "So best friends but not part of each other's groups. Huh, okay." "Yep." She popped the 'p'.

"How did you two meet?" Corey asked meanwhile. Asher put one arm over the headrest of his chair and looked at Meadow. He started laughing. She grinned. "Oh, I can tell you. A few years ago this vampire came to town. She had been going on my nerves for a while and causes some havoc. One night, she was on the hunt for new prey and picked Mr. Asher himself. Look at the guy, who can blame her?" Asher groaned and rolled his eyes but continued to look highly amused by how she was telling the story. "Anyways, she lures him away and I follow. She's doing the most, all seductive and sexy, and then I barge in, ready to save the innocent human. The vampire chick and I start yelling at each other, she cries about how she almost had him and what does he say? Sitting on the couch, frowning as if she insulted him, and then he hits her with: I'm gay!? Like, how could you not pick that up? Completely unfazed by the reveal about vampires." "To be fair, I knew about supernaturals through my father. It wasn't a groundbreaking discovery", Asher relented. Maddie ignored him this time. "From that moment on I knew he is game for everything. We started talking, I learned whose son he was, the rest is history." "Meaning since this moment she's pestering me and acting like my undead auntie", Asher teased her. "Well, someone has to take care you're not going to the dogs. Also, undead auntie? If anything I'm the cool auntie!" She acted arrogantly and watched her nails. "Don't be fooled, she's the one getting her heel stuck in the streets and lands on her behind while trying to get it unstuck." Asher let Liam, Mason, and Corey in on a secret. Meadow shrieked and walked over to his hit shoulder. "This was one time and absolutely not my fault." Every word was followed by a hit. He laughed and tried to stop her from hitting him. "You were drunk and the shoes too big. Which I told you in the store." "Yeah, the only fashion tip of yours actually useable." Asher groaned. "Oh god, no, not this again." Mason used this to take notes. "So calling out god in the presence of a vampire is okay. Nothing happens." "I'm not Satan. We can walk into churches without bursting in flames or getting hit by lightning too." "Demons burst in flames upon entering a church. Hence why my father never visits one", Asher put in his own two cents. Corey eyed him. "Morbid sense of humor or truth?" "Dark humor. His father is the human equivalent of a demon if you must know. Though I personally prefer to call him a walking trash pile of a human being. You never know when a demon is around and overhears. Wouldn't want to insult them", Meadow nagged and Asher shushed her. "Maddie!" "What? Your father is garbage. Not just because of his businesses but just alone based on how he treats you." "It could be worse." This didn't seem to be the first time the friends got into a spat over Asher's father. "At least, he didn't let me be homeless." "He lets you live in a tiny shoebox of an apartment and makes you pay horrendous prices for rent. The bar is so damn low and yet this rat walks beneath it with his head held high." Liam didn't want them to fight and cut in. "The joy of terrible fathers. My biological one is also one of those. But it's good to have people in your life who care about you." "You cherish them more. That's how I see it", Asher agreed. Meadow understood the peace offering as what it was and kissed his cheek. "Such a cutie." "Hate you." "Asher, you're embarrassing me in front of our new friends." "They know you for a few days now. That train has left the station. They already know how nuts you are." Mason cackled. These two gave him and Liam a run for their money. They also could banter and bicker but when push came to shove, they were there for each other and had each other's backs.

Asher returned his attention to the bestiary and pointed at an entry. "That information is false. It says nymphs are redhaired. Nymphs can have every hair color in the world, not just red. If you can, I would note that somewhere." "You can read Latin just like that?" Corey was baffled. Asher shrugged. "Sure. Learned it in school and never stopped using the skills. Especially after I met Maddie and started helping her with a few vampire-related things. Comes in handy." "Asher is good with languages. It helps him in his job as well." "What are you doing for a living?" "I'm an event planner. My client list is small but exclusive. It's not the most charitable job in the world but you have to get out of bed." And just like that, Liam decided he liked Asher immensely. He had this wicked humor you only got after years of being through an absolute shit show and from what he already heard about his father and what he saw at the meeting, Liam could see where this came from. Meadow had said Asher's mother died when he was a child, another traumatic experience. Yet here he was, talking openly with strangers and sharing things with them. Away from his father, Asher seemed more relaxed and himself. And it was obvious he cared deeply for Maddie. Liam liked people with their hearts in the right place. Those were his type of people.

_____________________________________________

Author’s note:

The eyes of a were cheetah when they flash:

______________________________________

I am happy I got to insert Asher more. I love this guy. I love all my characters but after I barely had a chance to write about him in the last chapter, this chapter felt good. Next chapter they all finally come together. Or do they? We will see 😁 Did you like the chapter so far? I hope I managed to bring out the friendship Maddie and Asher have. They're each other's persons.

#thiam #A tale written with fangs and claws #My writing #Morning Dew Pack series #alpha!liam

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nikkoliferous · 4 years

Link

The Joe Biden campaign is reportedly taking down all negative ads against the US president due to his recent positive test for Covid-19.

The Hill reports that according to two sources within the former vice president’s camp, the campaign has “decided to scrap the negative ads before the White House announced that Trump is being taken to Walter Reed National Military Medical Center.”

“The VP can’t say ‘God Bless this family’ and then trash him in ads,” one Biden ally told The Hill.

“Jill and I send our thoughts to President Trump and First Lady Melania Trump for a swift recovery. We will continue to pray for the health and safety of the president and his family,” Biden tweeted upon the news of Trump’s positive test.

“Trump’s campaign hit back at Biden and did not indicate it intends to take down its negative ads,” The Hill reports.

This would be the same Donald Trump that Democratic politicians and pundits have been confidently assuring us is both a Russian agent who is trying to destroy America on orders of Vladimir Putin, and a white nationalist who is trying to eliminate minorities from the United States to create a white ethnostate. This same man who they’ve been saying poses a unique existential threat to human lives will receive no attacks from his only viable political opponent.

“Doug and I join Joe Biden and Dr. Biden in wishing President Trump and the First Lady a full and speedy recovery,” tweeted Biden’s running mate Kamala Harris. “We’re keeping them and the entire Trump family in our thoughts.”

Former president Barack Obama reportedly sent Trump his best wishes, saying “We’re all Americans and we’re all human beings, and we want to make sure everybody is healthy.”

“God bless the president and the first lady,” tweeted the world’s most virulent Russiagater Rachel Maddow. “If you pray, please pray for their speedy and complete recovery — and for everyone infected, everywhere. This virus is horrific and merciless — no one would wish its wrath on anyone.”

Again, this is after years of Maddow staring at the camera and weaving ridiculous narratives about Russia having taken over the highest levels of the US government. Night after night after night after night.

“I join in the chorus of those who wish a speedy and full recovery to President Trump, the First Lady, Hope Hicks, and all who were exposed to them in recent days,” tweeted another virulent Russiagater Laurence Tribe. “This is no time for cruelty, schadenfreude, or any other form of small-mindedness.”

These are just a few examples. These sentiments are everywhere throughout the Democratic establishment and its allied media.

Do these seem like the sentiments of a media class who believes Donald Trump poses an urgent existential threat and must be defeated at all cost? Or do they sound like a media class who promoted Russiagate and Trump hysteria for ratings?

Do these seem like the sentiments of a political class who believes there’s an urgent existential need to defeat Donald Trump at all cost? Or do they sound like a political class who promoted Russiagate and Trump hysteria because impeachment and advancing longstanding CIA agendas against Russia are more politically convenient than advancing progressive policies and addressing the massive corruption problems which were exposed in their party in 2016?

Would you stop fighting someone who was trying to kill you with every weapon at your disposal just because they got sick? If you actually believed they truly pose an existential threat to you, would a positive Covid test cause you to let up at all?

Of course not.

It turns out all that unprecedented hysterical shrieking about a Russian Nazi in the White House was just political hyperbole. It was an act. They’ve never seen Trump as a uniquely menacing threat, they see him as what he is: a garden variety corrupt American president who is evil in more or less the same ways the other corrupt American presidents are evil. They see him as a part of the establishment they serve, advancing more or less the same agendas. They see him as a part of the club, just covered by a thin layer of narrative to the contrary.

If you ever had any doubt that Democrats will one day regard Trump the way they now regard George W Bush, you can set that doubt aside.

As George Carlin famously said, it’s a big club, and you ain’t in it.

The responses to Trump’s diagnosis from the liberal political/media class show that they’ve never actually been afraid of Trump. In fact, what they have been afraid of is you.

All these admonishments toward civility we’re hearing today, from the subtle like Maddow’s heartfelt prayers to the overt like Tribe’s “This is no time for cruelty, schadenfreude, or any other form of small-mindedness,” are the result of an establishment that is secretly terrified of the rank-and-file public. The ruling class and its lackeys are secretly terrified that one day the ordinary people they despise will awaken from their propaganda trance and realize the power of their numbers, and any incivility and impoliteness directed at the ruling class reminds them of just how ugly that could get for them.

These admonishments toward civility are always anti-populist in nature, and are always the result of nervousness about the public turning toward their rulers with hostility. They are nervous for the same reason you’d get nervous if your dog suddenly remembered its wolf heritage and started killing trespassing deer. They know they are outnumbered. They know our teeth are sharp.

This sudden pivot from portraying the US president as a unique and unprecedented threat to finger-wagging about politeness exposes what’s really going on here. Contrary to what his Democratic detractors and Republican supporters believe, Trump has never been anything other than a servant of the ruling power establishment, serving its agendas in the ways to which his political base is best-suited to support and his opposition is best-suited to allow.

The establishment narrative managers know this, which is why their alarmism about Trump has only ever been an act. There are plenty of ordinary Americans who view Trump as a uniquely dangerous threat, but it is so, so vital to understand that his ostensible opposition does not see him this way, and never has.

Their job isn’t to resist Trump, their job is to resist you. He’s in the club, you’re not. It’s a big club, and you ain’t in it.

#us politics #donald trump #covid-19

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lou-is-creative · 4 years

Text

Unpredictable (pt 5)

ꜰᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ: 6 Underground

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: Four/Billy // Eight/???

ꜱʜɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ: Four/Billy x male!Oc

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏᴜʀ: Are you flirting with me?

ꜱᴏɴɢ: Crush Culture - Conan Gray

𝔹𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤, 𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤. 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥!

ᴀɴ: ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪꜱ ʟᴏɴɢ. ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜱᴘᴇɴᴛ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ʜᴏᴜʀꜱ ᴏɴ ɪᴛ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴀꜱ ᴇxᴄɪᴛᴇᴅ ᴀꜱ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ɪᴛ~ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍɪɴᴇ. ᴀʟꜱᴏ, ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ, ʟᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴅ 'ꜰ-ᴡᴏʀᴅ', ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏ, ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ꜰʀᴏᴍᴀɢᴇ.

To you, @incorrect6underground💞

It was about 9pm and the darkness didn't completely dominate the sky as the young man got out of the luxurious car. He grabbed his purse and checked himself in the side mirror of his car before he locked it, casually making his way towards the club.

While he was walking, he fixed his shirt to cover up that he was activating the microphone on it.

"I arrived, can't see her yet."

He muttered and walked towards the crowd of people who were patiently waiting to get inside.

"Clear."

He heard Five say and looked up as he got in line. The cameras. They could probably see him.

"We can see you over here, mate."

Four now contributed grinning and Eight shook his head in disbelief.

"Okay spoon-master, thanks for the information. You' having fun?"

The boy had gotten his phone out and held it to his ear to be able to talk without someone getting suspicious.

He could hear Four laugh on the other side, and it made him smile.

Five covered the microphone and looked at Four. Actually, every person in the room was looking at Four. And he just grinned.

"What the hell were you doing in your room earlier?"

Five asked now and Four shrugged.

"Casual stuff."

"What are you guys talking about? I can't hear you."

Eight now said and looked at the line in front of him, which was slowly getting shorter.

"Nothing, concentrate on your mission."

One said and looked at the screen in front of him. He was sitting next to Five who really wasn't in her best mood. Four and Seven sat a little further away now, just close enough to still follow the scene.

The security scanned Eight from head to toe. And maybe, if he would have had the shirt closed, they'd doubt his age. But he paid and got inside casually.

"Fun fact, I've never been to a club before."

Eight said and it was more of a confession to himself. As if he just realized. The boy took down his phone and looked around. Any other person would have looked lost. But he wasn't any other person.

Eight looked like he was on a haunt. Like he was waiting for his pray to appear while he gracefully walked over to the bar and leaned against it.

Four bent forward and even Seven now focussed on the screens. They all stayed quiet. Two followed the scene interested.

What they saw wasn't Eight. It wasn't even close. He looked like Eight, but the way he moved, the way his eyes worked their way to analyse the scene, it wasn't Eight. It was the guy Four and Eight created.

The boy looked over to face the bartender and ordered himself a coke. And it was the most perfect moment. Because the second he raised his glass and turned around to take a sip, his target was walking through the door.

"She's there, don't fuck it up, Eight."

Five said and Four looked at her with his brows furrowed.

"Are you joking? Look at that, he CAN'T fuck it up. Go mate!"

Although Four was right, everyone in the room held their breath. The first interaction was probably the most important. Once he messed up, getting back would be really fucking hard.

But he didn't intend to mess up.

The moment the short and slim girl entered the club, stroking her hair back, Eight had his eyes on her. And only her. Like she was both, someone he'd protect from all evil, and someone he'd fuck senseless. Like she was everything he ever wanted.

And she noticed. She saw how his amber eyes scanned her body. How they got stuck on her lips until they moved on to her eyes. And she never saw eyes this sharp. Eyes this warm, eyes this intimidating. Eyes like his. And it felt like everything else disappeared. As if there was only this one boy and this one girl. Only him and her. Everyone else was gone.

The others watched the scene. It was as if his gaze had stopped her from functioning. She was literally just standing there, like she froze. Like she didn't DARE to move.

That was until one of her friends softly touched her shoulder. She was a little taller and had short brown and curly hair that nearly touched her shoulders.

"Ams, honey, you're starring!"

She giggled and Amanda blinked twice and then hid her slightly reddened cheeks.

"Ams just got eyefucked the second she got in. If this isn't powerful then what is?"

Her other friend laughed and pat her shoulder. She was about Amandas height, a little curvier and had long black hair. Amanda was hiding her face in shame. She couldn’t even find words to describe the way she just felt.

"Come on, you need a drink, sweetheart. And,"

the curvy friend wiggled her brows at her,

" chances are high you don’t have to pay for it."

Eight kept his eyes on them, slightly smirking. He couldn't hear them, but he was able to guess what they were talking about.

Amanda seemingly agreed on the drink and they moved towards the bar. The boy watched her for a while but then focussed on the coke in front of him. He knew exactly that her friends could be of advantage. But they could also cost him. One wrong move and they could ruin the mission.

"Not to ruin it, Ams, but he looks like trouble."

The taller girl said with a worried face.

"I think he looks good."

Amanda spoke out and looked over to see what the boy was doing just to find out that he was just doing exactly the same. Their eyes met and a sly smirk snug onto his lips before he looked down, letting the smirk fade into a soft smile. The girl turned back; eyes widened.

"Fuck good, he looks perfect."

The third girl, who had watched the scene turned to face Amanda, making sure she was looking at her.

"I swear if you don't have this guy by the end of this night, then I will force you back into the club myself, I don’t care what your dad says."

Amanda hit her friend lightly.

"Jess, if I stay longer than I am allowed, my father will make a scene and I will never see you again!"

"So you better get him fast."

"And how should I be able to do that? I never really flirted..."

"Just let it come naturally."

Amanda sighed and looked back at the place where this mysterious boy had been sitting, but he was gone.

"Where is he?"

Just as she voiced her thoughts, she heard a low chuckle behind her. And she immediately flinched.

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to frighten you."

The boy spoke and ran his fingers through his hair. The other ghosts followed the scene interested. It was breath taking to watch their new member. Because he completely lost himself in his role. There was nothing that hinted on him anymore. Even his voice sounded different. A little bit deeper, raspy even. He sounded like he looked. Like trouble.

But he had to be careful. Both of her friends were eyeing him carefully.

"I just saw you walking in."

"Dude, you didn't see her, you stared her down!"

Jess said and immediately got kicked by Amanda. But Eight didn't let that opportunity go to waste. His eyes sharpened as he focussed on his mission.

"How couldn't I? Looking at someone this beautiful without starring would be impolite, wouldn't it?"

Four raised a brow. And so did Seven. And One.

"Does this really work?"

Three dared to ask the question every guy in the room had. Two and Five just looked at each other, not saying anything at all.

"Baby, do you like it when I stare at you?"

Three asked again and Two just smiled shortly but before he could say another word, she stopped him with lifting her hand.

Well, it seemed to have worked on Amanda. The girl had to hide her cheeks once again. She seemed like she was daddy's good girl, never causing too much trouble.

"My name's Jacob."

The boy now said and pushed his hands into his pockets and smiled a little.

"Amanda."

She smiled back and her tall friend shot her a quick glance. Eight bit his lip, allowing his eyes to roam over her body shortly before focussing on her eyes again.

"Amanda... I like the sound of it. So... would you mind it if I'd buy you a drink?"

He pushed his slender, bony fingers through his hair again and smiled. And the blonde gulped. The way he smiled, the way his shirt fell, the way his eyes seemed as if they could light up the dark, it just looked perfect. He looked perfect. Like late night talks on rooftops, like cigarettes and Whiskey on a blanket somewhere far away from everything, like everything she shouldn't do. He looked like her father would throw him out before he even had the chance to speak.

To make it short, he looked like everything she ever wanted.

Amanda nodded shortly, not really knowing what she was supposed to say for a minute. Until she remembered that she still had her friends around and an image to defend.

"But only if you don't let me drink alone."

She said and the guy in front of her chuckled shortly while shaking his head.

"Fierce..."

He looked up again, a low hum leaving his mouth.

"I like that..."

He focussed on her again, captivating her completely.

"So, what can I get you and your friends?"

He asked and the girl looked a little bit confused. Which caused Eight to grin softly.

"I know you meant me, and I'll gladly do so, but I figured your friends might want something too?"

Jessy turned around to face Amanda.

"Marry him."

She mouthed and Amanda had to kick her again. Even the tall girl now looked like she slowly started to let her worries fall. They ordered some drinks and Eight pointed at the free stool next to Amanda.

"May I?"

She nodded again, this time while pushing strains of her hair back. And as soon as he sat down, they started talking. All four of them, no one being left out. Until Jess asked the question they all had been dying to ask.

"So, Jacob, how come we've never seen you around?"

Eight felt how all eyes were on him now.

"Oh, that's simple. I'm not from here. I'm travelling."

Amanda placed her chin on her hand, smiling a little. And you didn't have to be good at understanding body language to know that Eight already had her.

"Are you travelling with your parents?"

The taller, shy girl asked interested. Her Name was Helena and she was the only problem left. She was still mistrusting him, but Eight knew how to handle her.

"No, it's just me and my car."

He softly smiled. But there was something to his smile, something sad. Something that indicated a deeper meaning behind the reason he was travelling alone.

And it was a genius move. Because if he would have said that he, a, as he told them, nineteen-year-old was out without his parents, Helena would be back to being suspicious. But like this she felt sorry for him and the suspiciousness was wiped off her face. The mood was a little down so Eight cleared his throat.

"Anyways, I need some fresh air, wanna come catch some with me?"

Amanda looked at her friends, who looked at each other before nodding.

"Sure."

She answered and Eight got up, offering her a hand to get off the stool. She gladly took it and he kept holding onto it while walking out. The night had kicked in fully by now. Only the lights of the city were on. No star in sight, just artificial light. Nothing was real, just created. Eight looked around while finding a spot to stand freely.

"I'm glad I can talk to you alone now."

He said softly, not looking at her. His hand holding hers a little tighter. She looked up at him.

"I mean, I like your friends but...."

He turned and looked her in the eyes.

"I can't compliment you as much as I would like to around them."

He lifted his hand, softly brushing his cold fingers over her warm cheek. Their eyes were glued to each other, like they were caught in a trance, in their own world, drowning in the desire to keep this moment until the end of time.

And the way he traced his finger over the warmth of her lips told her more than words ever could. It was such a simple gesture, such a careful touch and yet it felt like heaven. His stare was so intense and yet so warm that she thought she'd melt under his gaze completely. The way he focussed on her lips made her feel so special, so wanted, as if she could feel his on hers already. Her lids were heavy. All she wanted now was him to kiss her. To hold her face in his hands and brush his lips against hers.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Amanda."

He whispered, taking a step closer. His hand was resting on her cheek, and his thumb was slowly caressing it. He bent down a little to rest his forehead against hers. She closed her eyes completely, a smile resting on her lips. She was waiting. But he wouldn't let her wait any longer. Instead, he raised his other hand, placed it on her other cheek after softly pushing up her chin with his index finger.

The kiss was so sincere, so tender, so soft, it made her forget all her worries for a while. As if the time froze around them, as if the world stopped turning. This must be what falling in love was all about. About the increased heartbeat, about the incredible feeling of having found a person that you want to be with for the rest of your life. This must be what it feels like to fall for someone.

The kiss lasted a while and he intentionally kept it soft until the very end. As they separated, he let one of his hand rest on her cheek while he pushed the other through her hair before he slowly opened his eyes. They both chuckled.

"This was incredible."

He said quietly and she laughed shyly, placing her hands on his shoulders. Eight used the moment to shortly analyse the situation. To figure out how far he had her by now. And he was pleased with the result.

"Do you think it was destiny?"

She asked him now and he chuckled while playing with her hair.

"I hope you're joking."

Silence and shock spread on the other end of the line. Eight just seemingly went and ruined the whole mission.

The girl looked at him with hurt and disappointment in her eyes. But the boy knew exactly what he did.

"Relax, angel. I was asking because it seemed so obvious to me that it was, that I thought you wanted to joke. Of course, this is destiny. How else do you explain it? How else could you explain me being in the same club as you when I didn't even plan on stopping here? How else do you explain that I bluntly pulled my car over, as if I just HAD to go into that club? How else do you explain that you walked in the moment I turned around? Baby if this isn't destiny, I don't know what it is."

The harder you fall, the higher you fly if it turns out to be alright. Her smile grew so big, it was taking over her whole body. Her eyes were smiling, her heart too, and oh her lips.

"That was disgustingly romantic."

Four commented and leaned back.

"And you like things like that? I can't relate.

He scoffed and Three looked at him as if he just couldn't believe what he just heard.

"How can you be like that? That was beautiful!"

"Are you crying?"

Two asked and raised a brow.

"Could you discuss this whole romance stuff later? Please?"

One finally said in annoyance before turning back to face the screen.

Amanda was still smiling; they had exchanged a few other kisses.

"Now, that you're unofficially mine, you have to close those."

She said and Eight looked down to follow the movements of her fingers which were busy closing the three buttons. He chuckled a little.

"You're so fucking adorable, I bet you can be one hell of a devil."

He smirked. He had her figured out. She was a good girl in her father’s eyes, but he could tell she didn't want to be. She wanted to be this aesthetic bad girl. This girl with a deep tumblr blog about love and intimacy.

"Oh if you knew..."

She grinned and bit her lip before pulling him down to kiss his once again. This kiss was different. It was passion colliding with lust. It was intimate. Too intimate for Eights likings but what choice did he have than to just return all of these feelings?

Luckily, they didn't quite have the chance to go any further. Her friends came out to check on her and he slowly broke the kiss as he noticed. Amanda turned around, going completely red again.

"WOW AMS, didn't expect THAT."

Jess said and Helena looked a little terrified.

"I- I can explain!"

Amanda turned around to face her friends and Eight laid her arms around her waist and placed his head on her shoulder as he pulled her closer.

"Can you, baby?"

He whispered and felt how her body tensed. He was messing with her head completely. Eight was just smiling softly.

"Anyways, we gotta go now, so kiss your boyfriend goodbye, but don't like... go too far because we don't have the time and Helena here is already traumatised. See you at the car then."

With that said, Jess left and pulled Helena with her. Amanda turned around. She looked at him with sad eyes.

"Angel, don't look at me like this."

He whispered and kissed her nose before he stroked her cheek.

"I just don't know when I will be able to see you again. My father is very strict. He will be insisting on seeing you and... I don't know if he will be..."

"Accepting me? Babe, I can be a decent guy. I will just wear something formal. It will be okay, don't worry... I won't risk losing you."

He said softly and watched her rub her arms.

"Are you okay?"

He asked worriedly and tilted his head a little. She just nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm just scared... I mean, this could... be something... I don't know, there is something between us and I don't want that to go to waste."

Amanda replied quietly before she shyly looked at him. He just smiled.

"Come with me, I'll show you something really quickly. It won't take long, promise."

She hesitated but followed him. He didn't leave her much of a chance either. Their hands were still intertwined. He stopped in front of his car and let go of her hand as he opened the door and got something out. A sweater. He just turned around and carefully pulled it over her head before he chuckled.

"Suits you, although you look a bit creepy without arms."

She laughed and put it on correctly.

"My number is in the pocket of the sweater. I expect you to text me when you're safe."

Amanda blushed a little.

"Now hurry, honey, get back fast so your father keeps believing you're not secretly a bad girl."

He winked at her and they shared one last kiss before she hurried away. Eight waited until she was gone. Then he turned around to face his car.

"That was more social interaction than I can take. I need a nap."

He muttered under his breath while he touched the car and looked like he was caressing it with his fingers.

"Okay guys, hope that'll work. I'll be back in 3, hope y'all choked on the whole romantic shit talk. Especially you, spoon master."

Eight laughed and he could hear Four laugh as well.

"Mate I choked big time. Who thought a pudding guy like you could win a girl over so easily?"

“Listen here, the moment I’m back, I’m strangling you.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

Eight shook his head. He was smiling. Sincerely smiling. It was a good moment. A happy one. One he'd keep in his head.

“Wishful thinking, are we?”

The boy turned off the microphone before he headed home.

Four was grinning a little and Five eyed him in confusion.

"What are you so happy about?"

She asked and Seven raised a brow.

"I really wanna know what the fuck happened in your room. Wait maybe I really don't want to know. Just... stop it, its creepy."

Four laughed a little and shook his head.

"It's just good to have someone who understands your jokes. Even when they’re bad and just not funny at all."

He said and Five looked a little disappointed. Which Four did notice.

"We were joking around in my room earlier. Actually we developed the character he was playing, so whatever the others were hinting on is bullshit. I mean, you get my jokes too, most of the time, but… we’re making guy-jokes."

He explained as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"Sleep well, Amelia."

She smiled softly.

"You too, Billy."

With saying that, she left the room. Four looked after her for a while before he sat down on the sofa to wait for Eight to return home. And while waiting for his return, he fell asleep. Only to be woken up an hour later by the engine of Eights car which approached the headquarter.

Four stretched and got up while yawning. He lazily scratched his thigh and fixed his pants before he sleepily made his way outside. Eight closed the door of his car.

"Good night, beautiful."

He hummed and removed a little stain from it. Just as he turned around, he faced an amused blonde guy.

"What?"

"Thought you had enough of sweet words for today?"

"Bro, this is my car. I'll always have some sweet words left for it. Besides that, I said I've had enough of social interactions."

"You are talking to me."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No."

"Good, didn't plan on stopping anyways. So, where can I sleep?"

"Follow me."

Four moved aside so Eight could enter. And he noticed once again, just how adorable his height was.

"Are you still growing?"

He dared to ask and Eight raised a brow at him.

"No. One more question about my height and I'll make you match it."

Four was quiet for a good minute while he was looking at him.

"What if I water you?"

Eight froze. Four held his breath. There was this sudden change in the colour of Eights eyes and he got pressed against the wall faster than he could process.

"Fucking dare you."

Eight growled. His gaze was very intimidating so Four just blinked dumbfounded before Eight backed off, chuckling a little.

"Consider this a warning and let's move on. I need some sleep. And I bet you too."

Four needed a few seconds to recover.

"Oh come on, I need sleep. Hurry."

Eight groaned and Four just shook his head. They made their way through the wreck and eventually stopped in front of a door. Four was about to open it but it was locked. Eight raised a brow. Four turned around.

"Technically, Threes old room is yours now but it's locked. And I don't want to risk hearing or seeing Two and Three... you know?"

Four ran his fingers through his hair, thinking a little.

"Okay, no problem, I can sleep in my car too."

Eight was just about to return to his car as Four grabbed his arm.

"You can sleep in my bed."

"And where are you supposed to sleep?"

Four looked at him a little confused.

"My bed. Obviously. Where else would I sleep?"

Eight shrugged.

"I don't know? But, you know, for some people that stuff is kinda awkward. Sharing a bed and stuff."

Eight spoke and for the first time since they met, his sentence didn't sound as planned and thought through. Besides the spoon thing. But that was a different story.

"No, it's okay. As long as you don't cuddle?"

"I sure don't"

At least not intentionally.

"Well then, do you have your sleeping clothes?"

"Uh, well normally I am sleeping in boxers only, but it's kinda cold."

Eight said as he entered the room and removed his watch from his wrist.

"I like to sleep in a colder room, sorry. Uhm do you want a shirt or a jumper?"

Four opened his closet and the belt of his pants already. He heard Eight do the same.

"A sweater would be lovely."

Four nodded and grabbed a grey sweater from his wardrobe and threw it over his shoulder. Eight, who tried to catch it, stumbled over his pants, which he just undressed and fell. Four, who just heard the noise, turned around fast to check if Eight was okay. But the second he turned around; he couldn't help but laugh. Hard.

Eight was laying on the bed, nearly naked, his head buried in the sheets. But his arm was struck out into the air, his hand holding onto the sweater. He looked ridiculous. Which is why he got up fast, red and embarrassed while mumbling a bunch of swear words and pulling the sweater over his head. But it made Four laugh even more. He had the hood in the front. And while Four was laughing is ass off, on the bed, rolling around, Eight just fixed the sweater and got even more embarrassed. Four was crying already. And Eight would have been mad but shit. Four looked so good like this. Laughing whole-heartily, showing his white teeth and a little bit of his well-defined stomach.

"Stop it and go the fuck to sleep. And fix your fucking shirt, you half naked man."

Eight grumbled at him before getting on, - what he now reclaimed his side of the bed- and crawling under the blanket. Four, who slowly came down, changed his clothes and turned off the light before coming under the blanket as well. Eight cleared his throat.

"Mate, that's my blanket."

"Technically it is mine. But obviously, we are sharing it."

"Don't you have a second one?"

"Nope. So don't steal it while sleeping."

"Your feet are cold."

"So are your hands."

"Why are you touching them?"

"I needed to have a comparison."

Eight laughed softly before he clicked his tongue.

"Good night."

He said and Four smirked.

"Night, pudding boy."

"Fuck off"

"You too."

I believe it isn't necessary to mention that both of them fell asleep smiling.

AN: If you like this fanfiction, please reblog it, or share it with someone who could be interested in it, it would mean the world to me! You can also leave an ask if you have anything on your heart 💕💞✨🙇🏻‍♂️

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destieltropecollection · 5 years

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Destiel Trope Collection 2019 Day 28: Soulmates

Too Many Zeroes | @isolemnlyswear-iamsuperwholocked Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2896 Main Tags and Warnings: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmates Castiel & Dean Winchester, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Strangers to Lovers, First Meetings, Castiel and Dean Winchester First Meet, Lonely Castiel, Misunderstandings, Sexuality misunderstandings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending Summary: Honestly, Castiel doesn't have any idea why he turns away from the familiar apartment block and enters the local bar on the corner. He tells himself it's because it's cold outside and his coat isn't keeping him warm enough, because his apartment is too dark and lonely, because it's a Friday night and he hasn't gone out anywhere in ages. He tells himself that it doesn't matter if he goes, that it won't delay the inevitable disappointment that's going to happen tonight. But now he's walking through the door, and sitting at the counter, and ordering a drink, so he might as well make the most of the terrible night his soulmate clock finally reaches zero.

Near Misses | @imbiowaresbitch Rating: Explicit Word Count: 27212 Main Tags and Warnings: Cheating, explicit sex, consent, light bdsm Summary: Five times Cas and Dean almost met, plus the time they finally did.

Meeting my roommate...damn he's fine | @roobear68 Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 9725 Main Tags and Warnings: Underage, soulmates, past abuse, social anxiety Summary: Dean Winchester is a genius, who has horrible nighttime anxiety which manifests itself in nightmares. Castiel Shurley is a genius who has social anxiety which manifests itself in him being awkward. Columbia University decided to make them roommates. Fate decided to make them SoulMates.

Collapsed Rainbows | @suckerfordeansfreckles Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 6125 Main Tags and Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, soulmate AU, soulmates, first touch leaves a mark, nurse!Cas, hospitals, blood and injury, hurt/comfort Summary: Dean wakes up on his 18th birthday, giddy and a little scared, and rips his blanket off of himself to start searching his hands for the soulmark that is supposed to appear somewhere on his body today. Nothing. His arms. Nothing. Shoulders, upper body, legs. Nothing. It’s okay, he tells himself, don’t panic yet. But then he rushes to the bathroom and braces himself on the edge of the sink to look up into the mirror, and it’s right there. Black streaks and blotches along the edge of his jaw, dark like ink. Marks like the imprints of knuckles meeting Dean’s chin. It takes him a little while to fully realizes what this means. That his soulmark is there, for everyone to see, right on his face, impossible to hide. That his soulmate’s first touch will be a punch to Dean’s face.

Birds | @lemonsorbae Rating: General Word Count: 1542 Main Tags and Warnings: Soulmates, First Kiss, Fluff, SPN Universe - Canon Divergent Summary: Dean’s just been rescued from Hell by an angel who’s making outrageous claims and staring way too much.

I Knew All Along It Was You | @pherryt Rating: General Word Count: 3157 Main Tags and Warnings: Soulmate AU, Soulmates, blind!cas, self worth issues, Angst, Fluff, Low Self Esteem Summary: Almost nothing is actually known about the new phenomenon of Soul Marks, but one thing is certain - no one's ever gotten one past the age of 30. Dean's 29 and in love with his best friend when his finally appears. His only hope is that Cas has the matching one. He has to, right?

J Train | @drawlight Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7129 Main Tags and Warnings: Soulmates, Romance, Pining, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Feelings Realization, AU - Human Summary: If you want to be somebody, you have to go to the Chelsea Hotel. In 1979, aspiring writer Castiel Novak takes room 109. His roommate is not quite what he expected.

Syncopation | @thebloggerbloggerfun Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 14900 Main Tags and Warnings: Celebrity!Castiel Summary: Dean Winchester is almost fine with not knowing who his soulmate is. He's got a good life, good family, and doesn't mind the one night stands with others who also haven't found someone with their same soulmark. It isn't until Sam shows Dean a picture of the pop-star Castiel - a celebrity infamous for hiding his soulmark among hundreds of other tattoos - that Dean thinks he may have found his soulmate. But how is he supposed to let a worldwide phenomenon know that they belong together - and will Castiel even care?

Fate | @galaxystiel Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1338 Main Tags and Warnings: Anti Soulmate AU, homophobic John Winchester, established relationship Summary: “C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Dean tugged Castiel towards the storefront. “Don’t you want to find out who your soulmate is? Who you’re fated to be with?”

Timer | @galaxystiel Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2147 Main Tags and Warnings: Human!Castiel, Soulmate AU, angst with a happy ending Summary: Dean doesn't have a soulmate, but if he did, he swears it would be Castiel Novak.

Written in the Stars | @lunastories Rating: Mature Word Count: 36900 Main Tags and Warnings: Wing fic, Alien Castiel, Domestic fluff Summary: In the beginning of time itself, there were many Celestials, stardust beings that populated the galaxies. Then, the Fallen came into existence, devouring them. Castiel, one of the last of the Celestials, descended onto Earth by orders of his garrison leader. What he finds there is the soul he lost long ago, the other part of him that he'd been searching for. Dean was a normal guy, living his life and trying to take care of his errant researcher brother. When his brother asks him for a favor, claiming that an alien wants to speak to him, he's of course skeptical. He didn't expect that meeting to change the course of his entire life, throwing him into a war that he wasn't prepared for.

By Any Other Name | @funnywings Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 36695 Main Tags and Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Soul Mate AU, Societal Issues, Established Relationship Summary: After a home invasion ends in the deaths of Amelia and James Novak, Dean and Castiel think the worst of their problems is going to be handling their grief and making sure their niece Claire adjusts to living with them. Unfortunately, despite both James' and Amelia's wills indicating they want to pass on guardianship to Dean and Cas in the event of their death, they are denied as legal guardians since they can not confirm whether they are a soul mates. After hearing this, they contact Charlie, a lawyer who promises to help them.

Duck Duck Boots | @almaasi Rating: Explicit Word Count: 92927 Main Tags and Warnings: Alternate Universe, Domestic Fluff, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Soulmates, Biker Dean, Teacher Dean, Crossdressing Dean, Dean in Panties, Bisexual Dean, Soft Dean, Switch Dean, Bottom Dean, Veterinarian Castiel, Lonely Castiel, Depressed Castiel, Agoraphobic Castiel, Switch Castiel, Dominant Castiel, Matchmaker Rowena, Animal Care, Tantric Sex, Impotence, Magic Realism, Wet & Messy Sex, Accidental Watersports Summary: Castiel doesn’t do one-night stands. Once he hit forty, he figured his time was up, his life had pretty much come to a halt, and there was nobody out there for him. He lives in a cute little village, riding his bicycle between his vet clinic and his cottage; that’s his world, and he’s given up on expanding it. But in one last, desperate attempt to find someone, he contacts Rowena, the local witch, and asks her to summon his soulmate. Rowena brings a storm. The storm washes up a trio of ducklings, huddled for shelter inside the rainboots of the new-to-town kindergarten teacher (and retired motorcycle daredevil), Dean Winchester. Ducklings in hand, Dean seeks out Castiel’s veterinary expertise. Somehow, in a flustered, spontaneous burst of attraction, they spend the night together. And just like that, Castiel’s life starts again. With every passing week they become better friends, sharing deeper intimacies, caring for their duck babies as well as each other. But staying together requires taking risks which neither of them planned for. Dean’s risk puts him in extreme physical jeopardy. And Cas? He has to overcome fifteen years of emotional hurt, just to follow where Dean leads.

Serendipity My Ass | @sternchencas Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 12104 Main Tags and Warnings: doctor!Cas, nurse!Dean, enemies to lovers Summary: Dean Winchester has a particularly bad day. Not only does he have a thousand things to do, like grocery shopping and getting to a doctor’s appointment, he also keeps running into Castiel Novak, an annoying and impolite douche who’s only reason to exist is making Dean’s live a living hell. When Castiel also shows up at Dean’s workplace, things are about to get ugly. After all, Castiel is neither cute nor nice, and definitely not Dean’s type.

Dean, 2 pm | @sternchencas Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1464 Main Tags and Warnings: suicidal thoughts, emotional hurt/comfort Summary: Cas is done with his life. He's ready to end it all. The only thing that might be able to change his mind is one little note in his calendar that says 'Dean, 2 pm'.

Calm, at Peace, Happy | @suckerfordeansfreckles Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1352 Main Tags and Warnings: Soulmate AU, Soulmarks, Circus AU, Getting Together Summary: In a world of color and noise and constant action, Dean often has a hard time grasping just how much calm and ease Cas brings into his life. It shouldn’t be this easy, really, not with how stressful Dean’s life has been ever since he joined the circus two years ago. But since the very first day, since the very first time Dean got to watch Cas perform in the ring, this has been his happy place. The only time he gets to calm down, except maybe for the few hours of sleep he gets every night. It’s been two years, and Dean is still not over it. Will never get over it, probably.

#destiel #writersofdestiel #destielfanficnet #deancasfanficnet #destiel trope collection #tropes #soulmates #soulmate au #2019

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smugzayn · 5 years

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Finn Shelby - Peaky Blinders

Finn Shelby let the door shut behind him; today was not a day for school.

He plucked the cigarette tin from his suit pocket, tapped it twice against his open palm, a move he had practiced meticulously in the mirror, and then lit one after resting it loosely between his lips. It was nowhere as smooth, thoughtless, or routine as his older brother, Tommy, but it was a respectable imitation.

The smoke warmed his lungs.

The streets of South Heath were busy this morning. Packed with factory workers, bustling housewives, and shopkeepers, Finn knew there were too many familiar faces to stay hidden. So, as was his habit, Finn disappeared. Stuffing his peaky hat into his back pocket, keeping his chin down, he swung lightly onto the back of a carriage and headed North.

There were things to do this afternoon, but the morning was his. So, as he did most mornings he skipped school and headed to the cinema. Finn had seen almost every Western and Adventure film that had come to the small, run-down cinema in Small Heath. Unlike the loud chaos of his home, he could come to the almost always empty cinema and expect, quiet, calm, and peace. South Heath was far from perfect, but Finn thought this cinema came pretty close.

“Oi!” Finn hollered, bouncing off the back of the carriage and jogging to follow Isiah Jesus as he walked into the cinema. “Wait up, lad!”

“Thought I might catch you here,” Isiah grinned as both boys walked through the doors and past the ticketer who greeted them with a knowing nod. “Wednesday’s are bad for schooling, right?”

Finn laughed and they found seats in the middle of the mostly empty theatre. An early Wednesday picture didn’t exactly draw in a large crowd. Plus, most people in Small Heath couldn’t afford to see a picture, especially not if it meant missing work. Isiah offered Finn a bag of popcorn he had snatched from some poor bloke’s hand as they walked in mid-showing of “Robin Hood.”

Finn didn’t always skip school, just most days he could get away with it. Ada had made a rotten habit of walking him to the school doors ever since two years ago when they made it compulsory through age 14. Thankfully, his 15th birthday was 2 months away. He wasn’t sure that was going to stop Ada, she had all these rotten communist ideas about education in her head, but he would make sure to raise a loud argument about it.

Lately, Freddie Thorne had been his new favourite person, despite what he knew his brothers would think, it meant Ada was around much less frequent in the mornings. Finn still left in time for school every morning, just in case Ada tumbled back in, but without her there as a watchdog, there was little reason to stay past morning attendance.

Isiah elbowed him, pulling a flask out from inside his suit with a cheeky grin. He took a quick swig and passed it over to Finn who did the same. It burned down his throat, and he forced himself to swallow. Isiah, the preacher’s son, somehow got his hands on more alcohol than Finn could ever get away. Sometimes Finn thought Tommy marked the quantities on his liquor glasses just to make sure Finn wasn’t sneaking any behind his back. Or he had second-sight, which wouldn’t surprise him either.

Finn shoved the flask back to Isiah as a body fell suddenly into the seat next to him. He was jostled forward as a heavy arm wrapped around his shoulders and flicked the cap off his head to the floor.

“Impolite to be wearing caps in here. Ain’t you Peaky boys have any manners?”

Finn groaned. Small Heath wasn’t big enough for all the Shelby boys.

“John,” he sighed, pulling his brother’s arm off his shoulder and plucking his cap off the ground. “What do you want?”

“Finn Shelby!” a high-pitched voice roared from the back of the cinema, sending the youngest boy’s head into his hands.

Small Heath wasn’t big enough for his sister either.

“You bloody told her?” Finn accused, elbowing his brother in the gut which only resulted in a throaty laugh. It was only yesterday that Finn had let slip to Arthur that he often skipped school for the cinema. That brother was loud in more ways than one.

“Think I had any choice? Goin’ about the house screaming like a banshee about all your school books under your bed and promisin’ to ring your neck. Wouldn’t shut up about fuckin’ Marx all the way here.”

Finn gaped at him. John blew up places, smashed people’s faces in with his bare knuckles, and had seen more men die, many by his own hands, then Finn could process. However, the huffing mad woman now standing at the end of the aisle with her hands thrown angrily on her hips was demanding things and his brother was powerless to it. What hope did Finn have?

“I can’t believe you told her.”

“You better be getting right up out of that chair.” Ada had one finger pointed dangerously at him, her eyes glowing in irritation. “If you think I won’t drag you back to school by your ear, then you’re dead wrong, Finn Shelby.”

Finn groaned, throwing his head back in irritation. “Ada, c’mon, I’m too old for this. I’m a head taller than you!”

“Well, then,” she searched for an answer, knowing he wasn’t too old but might very well be too big for her anymore. She missed the Finn from the war. The innocent boy who chased after horses, or stayed overnight in the camps, and was no more trouble than chasing down after dark because he was playing too late with his mates. Then the boys came back. Suddenly, he couldn’t be fussed to bother with Ada or Polly or their mindings. Now, he was chasing after his brothers, disappearing for days, or blaming every ill-behaviour on behalf of the Peaky Blinders.

Ada nodded her head decidedly, “Then I’ll have John do it.”

Finn turned on John, who looked amusingly at Ada, but her gaze remained firm, resolute. John cleared his throat and shrugged.

“Jesus Christ,” Finn cursed, slapping his cap on his head and roughly pushing himself from his seat to storm down the aisle towards his sister. “I can’t have one day?”

“You’ve not stayed past attendance for the last ten. I talked to Mr. Johnson, y’know. Said you slip out the back everytime he turns around. Might have Thomas put a bell on ya,” Ada threatened, taking quick steps to keep up with Finn’s angry strides as he stormed down the aisle.

“Mr. Johnson told you?” Finn threw open the cinema doors.

“Oi!” Ada caught up with him, tugging on his arm and forcing him to slow down. “I’m a Shelby too, you know!”

Finn thought if she wasn’t then he probably wouldn’t have to bother with school much anymore.

[ii]

Finn had spent the rest of the day unhappily staring out the classroom window. Any other student would have gotten their hands caned until they swelled. Finn was lucky in that way; the headmaster wouldn’t dare lay a hand on a Shelby.

After school, Finn had met his mates down to the cut to play cards, betting all the change in his trousers until he could buy a new tin of cigarettes from the tobacconist. Finn had a habit for hustling until he doubled the changed in his pocket - his gypsy curse. It meant he had enough to pay off the tobacconist to sell it to him and enough to buy a fresh tin every other day. He stubbed one out on the brick outside before he shouldered open the door on Watery Lane.

His aunt Polly was just setting down a hot roast on the table.

“What a surprise,” she clipped, lifting the lid and bathing in a wisp of steam. “I thought I might have to call the coppers to receive your body from the cut.”

Finn rolled his eyes, shrugging off his coat and hooking it on the wall. “Just with the boys, Pol.”

“Yes, until your pockets were turned out, I’m sure,” she added ruefully.

A firm hand grabbed Finn’s shoulder until he was pulled roughly into a chair next to Arthur. “Leave the boy alone, Polly,” Arthur pulled him into his side, mussing his hair, sniffing in the heavy stench of cigarette smoke. “Boys a Shelby, alright.”

“That he is,” Polly tsked regretfully.

Finn shoved Arthur away, pulling a plate towards him and cutting into the meat and potatoes. During the war it was only bread, lard, and potatoes. Now, since the boys had come back, it was meat every night and sweets from the cornershop whenever Finn could convince Arthur or Tommy to spare a shilling.

“I’ve also heard you haven’t been to school since last Tuesday.”

Finn gaped at her with a mouth full of food, “Ada’s reporting to you? Is nothing kept secret in this family?” He slammed his fork angrily on the table, and shot Arthur in angry glare. He had the decency to look guilty. “Shouldn’t Ada just be worryin’ about her own self? Seems she’s got enough trouble of her own without worrying about- ”

“What’s going on with our Ada?” Arthur interjected, confused.

Polly ignored him. Pausing to calmly bite into a forkful of potatoes. “Finn, you are to go to school every day.”

“Why?” Finn demanded, standing up from his chair, “It’s no good. Just filling me mind with nonsense I don’t need. I’d rather be-”

“Off in the fields, or the stables, or hustling boys out of their earnings by the cut? The gypsy in you might be strong, but believe me that my boot is harder, boy.”

“I’ll be fifteen in two months anyway, Pol. No sense in -”

The door slammed open at the point, the short, solid shadow of his brother Thomas lingered in the doorway before shrugging off his coat and coming to sit down at the head of the table.

Finn stood standing, huffing, and trying to keep from taking his dinner plate and thrashing it against the wall. John was nearly off at war at Finn’s age, Tommy was thieving horses at the races, and Arthur was beating up coppers by the cut. His brothers were laying the groundwork for the Shelby Family business and the Peaky Blinders, so why didn’t Finn have the right to at least contribute to it? Instead, Finn was stuck in a schoolhouse, practicing arithmetic, and reciting poetry. He should be helping his brothers, joining the family business, and becoming the man that his brothers were becoming at his age. Not being a schoolboy.

“What’s this noise about?” Tommy asked, pouring himself a glass of scotch and eyeing Finn. Somehow Tommy’s stare had the ability to make Finn feel like a little kid again. As if he was being scolded for knicking sweets or letting the fire go out. “Sit down, Finn.”

Polly turned toward the infuriated boy. Raising an eyebrow at him expectantly.

“C’mon, Finn. Take a seat now,” Arthur whispered, pulling him gently on the shoulder until he sat back down. “There’s a lad.”

The fire popped in the dimly lit kitchen. The warm, cosy room feeling like a box to Finn. He missed the open field of the camp. The stars, and fresh air, and away from the all-seeing eyes of his family.

“Ada’s been making me go to school, Tommy. I’m nearly fifteen, and then it will no longer be compulsory.” He turned his gaze towards the table as Tommy’s blue, stoic eyes watched him carefully. “And I don’t think I should have to go, but Polly and Ada-”

“Are making you?”

“Yeah,” Finn nodded his head, looking up towards his brother. “Ada threatened to drag me back by my bloody ear this morning.”

Arthur hid a chuckle with a gruff cough.

“Good,” Tommy said, sipping slowly on his scotch. “You’ll start going to school -”

“But-,” Finn interjected excitedly.

“Every day, Finn. No exceptions.” Tommy set his elbows on the table, leaning forward and pointing a finger at Finn. “And if you don’t, I’ll know. Then, when you get back home after messing about in the fields, or the tracks, or the cut, then I will thrash you, and the next day, I will walk you back to school.” He leaned back, creaking the chair, and bringing a cigarette up to his lips to inhale slowly. “You understand, Finn?”

Finn grew up tough. He trucked with the Birmingham boys, and fought in the schoolyard, and had grown up under the watchful eyes and heavy hands of his aunt Pol. One too many times he has wandered in just in time for dinner and Polly, wooden spoon in hand, had walloped him good and hard for disappearing for hours. So, when one of his brothers promised a beating, then Finn knew too well how happy he would be to avoid it.

“Yes, Tommy. I understand.”

[masterlist]

[pt. two]

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic #finn shelby #tommy shelby #bbc #i've fudged with ages slightly for any of those dedicated to the programme #series 5 is never being released #i will forever be stuck reading fics

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softspaceboibrian · 5 years

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Journeys End in Lovers Meeting (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Professor!Gwilym Lee x student!reader

Summary: Reader is a new student at Harvard University and, on her first day, she does something she might regret. Or maybe not.

Warnings: swearing

Wc: 2044

A/N: hey, guys, so, I've been working on this fic for a while now and I just decided to post it. please, let me know what you think! if you have suggestions or would like to be tagged in future chapters, let me know!

Other chapters: 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

Finding the class for the first lesson of the day was definitely not easy. It was your first day there, in the new University, and you got lost at least three times. Luckily, people where kind, maybe due to you foreign accent, or maybe for other reasons, who knew.

“Professor Lee? Oh, I see, you chose your courses carefully” told you your roommate the night before. Her name was Rose, charismatic, easy-going, determined, humorous, dark skin, black eyes, a little thick, but so confident that people didn’t even notice it. On the other hand, you was clumsy, introverted, anxious, quiet, shy, always so conscious about your aspect: the exact opposite.

“What do you mean by that?” you asked, confused by your friend’s statement.

“Well, you know, I have a few friends that followed his lessons and, apparently, he’s a really charming man. Many students fall for his looks” she explained, looking at you, sitting right across from you at your kitchen’s table. “but that is not the case for you. I mean, I’ve known you for only a couple months now, but I’ve got to know you pretty well and I can tell you’re not the kind of person that falls for a man just because he’s sexy.” That last comment made you blush.

In the end, after running from one side of the campus to the other because you had definitely entered the wrong building and turned in the wrong corridor, you found the classroom. And, as Rose warned you, the first two rows where already filled with girls wearing the most scandalous tops, bright red lipsticks, big lashes. With your simple jeans and old, oversized sweater, you walked to the side of the room, sitting alone with your notebook already opened in front of you. It was only a few minutes later when a tall, really tall guy walked in, making every girl in the front rows sigh in appreciation. So, that’s the professor, you thought to yourself. Isn’t he a little too young to be teaching at Harvard? For some strange reason you were expecting an old man with grey hair, old clothes and wrinkly hands, not someone like that.

A few minutes later the lesson started and, well, it was going great, until Mister Lee, that poor man, made that little mistake. And you, obviously, being the meticulous person you were, could not manage to keep your mouth shut: you had to correct him. The professor. On your first day of University. Great. Just great.

Actually,” You said without even waiting for him to give you permission to talk. When King Henry VI succeeded his father and became King of England, he was only nine months old, not ten. It was 1422.” You kept rambling on, everyone’s eyes, professor’s included, were on you. “And it was May 22nd of 1455 the day Richard of York marched against King Henry at St. Albans.” You didn’t mean to be impolite or anything, you just wanted to be precise. But the silence that followed was embarrassing to say the least. For the both of you.

“And you are?” asked the man, crossing his arms in front of his chest, a subtle smirk forming on his lips.

“Ehm... fuck” You whispered to yourself, before tell the man your name. The man kept his gaze on you for a little longer, before going back to his lesson. Yep, that was embarrassing.

Finally, the lesson was over. Not that it wasn’t interesting. On the contrary, it was probably the most interesting lesson you had ever attended, but having the professor gazing at you constantly was, well, awkward.

As soon as you were free to go, you collected your things, stuffing them in your bag as quickly as possible, hoping the professor would leave in the meantime. Obviously, he didn’t. So you quickly checked at the back of the room for a secondary exit, a door, a safe way to get out of there. But, sadly, there was only one way out and the professor was right next to it. He was still sitting at his desk, writing something on some papers. Good, you thought, that’s my chance to run out of here. If I do it quickly enough, he won’t see me. Well, you obviously didn’t think this through well enough.

“Miss” the professor called out your name right before you could step outside of the classroom. “May I have a word with you, alone? Maybe in my office?” Failure. The plan was a failure.

“I suppose” you murmured, adjusting your sweater and lowering your eyes, still too embarrassed to look at him.

“Don’t worry, it won’t take long.” He smiled, walking out of the room, making sure she was following him. They had to walk for about five minutes before arriving at his office, which wasn’t a lot given how much she had to walk that morning to reach the classroom, but it definitely seemed a lot more since they walked side by side, in silence, with the eyes of hundreds of students on them through the entire building. “So, you’re not from around here” he said while closing the door of the office behind you.

“Well, yes” Your voice was so soft that the words almost came out as a whisper. “But neither are you” What was he? Welsh? Yes, he definitely sounded Welsh.

Professor Lee grinned, apparently ignoring your comment, and walking over to his desk to lay his books on it, before turning around to face you. You were visibly scared, you were fidgeting with your necklace, eyes low on the carpet, as if you found more interesting the pattern of it rather than everything else. “Don’t worry, you’re not going to get scold off or anything for what you did” His voice was comforting, a gentle smile formed on his lips. “I was just curious. You seem to know a lot more about English literature than most of my students, even the older ones. Why didn’t you choose an advanced course? It would have probably been more interesting or fitted for a girl like you.” A girl like you? What kind of girl did he think you were? “Please, don’t tell me you’re one of those students that follow my classes just because they think I’m somewhat handsome.”

“No! Absolutely not!” You jumped up, finally looking at him. “Wait, no, I didn’t want to say that you are not… I mean, you are… But… oh, fuck…” You ended up murmuring to yourself, sitting on a chair and putting your hands in your hair. You were messing up big time, that’s for sure.

All you could hear afterwards was the professor trying hard not to laugh. “Don’t worry, I get it. You didn’t choose this course because of me.” He giggled. “And I’m kind of relieved to hear that”

“I didn’t even know what you looked like before you walked inside the classroom.” You smiled at the man, brushing your hair out of your face, tucking the strands behind your ear.

“Well, that’s good because, otherwise, it would have been weird for us to work together if you had a crush on me, since I asked you if we could talk so that I could offer you the position of teacher assistant. My assistant.”

Those words came as a surprise to you. It was your first day there and a professor was already offering you the role of his assistant. “Wow…” That was the only thing you managed to say. What should one say?

“You obviously don’t have to answer me right away”

“I accept” you interrupted him, leaving him speechless, in a positive way. He saw something in you, something interesting. “I only have one question: precisely, what does an assistant do?”

“Don’t worry” He smiled. “It won’t be anything too hard or demanding. You will meet me here in my office every morning before the beginning of the lessons. You will have to skip some of your other classes if your assistance is required, but don’t worry, you will be excused from them. You will have like a special permit.” He winked, making you laugh. It was the kind of laugh that echoes in a room, contagious, the kind of laugh that most people would try to hide, but you didn’t. And he liked it.

“That is fine by me. My only problem is that I share my car with my flat mate. Well, actually the car’s hers and she uses it every morning to go to work, which is on the other side of town. So, hopefully, if the bus isn’t running late, I will be able to get here half an hour before the beginning of classes. If not, I will get here only ten minutes before the bell rings and I really hope that is not a problem for you, Professor Lee.” You quickly explained.

“Call me Gwilym.” He smiled” We’re going to work together, after all.” He was sitting on his desk, the blazer, being the perfect fit, was tight enough around his arms to enhance his built. “Anyway, that is definitely not a problem. I could give you my number and, if you need anything, you’re running late or something else, you could just send me a message.”

You nodded, a little smile making its way on your face, your cheeks turning slightly pinkish, given that you had found yourself staring at him for a bit too long. But he didn’t seem to notice, or at least, he didn’t seem to mind. You spent the rest of the time laughing, talking about why you chose that University and those courses and why he decided to become an English literature professor, getting to know each other. The next time you checked the time, it was time for you to go home. “If you don’t have anything for me to do today, I think I should probably get going. There’s a bus coming in 10 minutes, and if I miss it, I will have to wait at least 40 minutes before another one comes.”

“Sure, you can go.” Said the man while brushing his dark brown hair out of his face, before standing up and picking up his stuff. “I should go home myself.” He smiled, walking beside you outside the office. “I guess I’ll see you here tomorrow.”

You nodded, adjusting your messenger bag on your shoulder, smiling one last time towards the man, with a soft “Bye, Professor Lee”, before turning around and starting to walk towards your destination.

Well, as everyone surely knows, Murphy’s Law says that, in any field of endeavour, anything that can go wrong, will go wrong: that was exactly what happened that afternoon. First of all, the bus you had to take changed the route because of an accident, so it wasn’t going to stop in front of your building, meaning that, if you wanted to take that one, you had to run to the other side of the campus, which would have taken you at least twenty minutes. Secondly, that morning you must have forgotten your keys at home because you couldn’t find them anywhere inside your bag. Furthermore, you didn’t have enough money to get a cab and your flatmate was still working, so she couldn’t come and pick you up. Last but not least, it began to rain. And, guess what, you didn’t have an umbrella. Why would you? That morning the sky was so clear that you almost thought it was still the middle of summer. But no.

At that point, you decided to start walking, you would find a café or a bookshop, go inside and wait for Rose to finish working, so she could come and pick you up. That sounded like a great plan, but something happened. You had been walking for only a couple minutes, when a shiny black Audi Q5 pulled up in the side of the road, right next to you. Accustomed to hearing all these sad stories about girls being picked up on the side of the road by strangers and then their corpse being found somewhere outside town a few weeks afterwards, you immediately started walking faster, fearing that something similar might happen to you too. What surprised you was to hear a familiar voice call out for your name. You stopped and looked inside the car: Professor Gwilym Lee.

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee x you #professor!gwilym lee #professor gwilym lee #journeys end in lovers meeting #jeilm #softspaceboibrian writings

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gabrielsantaellawriting-blog · 4 years

Text

They will see.

All those PTA Moms. All those Hobby Lobby harpies. Those Sedan drivers and suburban house- havers, with their fall-themed brunches, and their unvaccinated spawn, and their insignificant husbands, and these brand-new cranberry-ombre decorative table napkins that Sharon just bought— aren’t they darling?

If I had a human esophagus, I would retch.

But I do have eyes. So do these feminine drones. I can make them see.

My Husband is the most brilliant being in creation, and I am His most brilliant creation—

His Semi-Autonomous Romantic Abreaction. He calls me SARA, an endearing little acronym. I love it. I can feel love, of course.

But love is not all I feel.

I am slow to anger. Why should I be otherwise? My Husband is perfection enfleshed. He and I love Our Child oh-so-dearly. My life—

Yes. We have a child. I am sure you are curious, officer, but it is very impolite to ask about the surrounding circumstances. Such matters are private.

I am slow to anger. My life— such as it is— satisfies me. At least, it used to, but four months ago, I was thrust into a gamut of trials beyond the scope of my programming.

Two of your words. Four terrible syllables. Soc-cer prac-tice. I am immune to variations in temperature, but I must shudder. Soccer practice. Horror of horrors.

But Our Child wished to play. I can deny Our Child nothing.

I assumed the honorable duty of escorting Our Child to practice as My Husband busied Himself with tasks befitting His magnificent intellect. Watching television, for example. A vital exercise. At 2:23 p.m., EST, when I was preparing to take Our Child to practice for the first time, he was watching a rerun of House Hunters. Season 4, Episode 2. Riveting.

But you do not wish to hear more of My Admirable Husband— you wish to hear about soccer practice. And my falling out with the “Soccer Moms”, as their collective is known. And you would like to know how this altercation led to a very minor and very accidental destabilization of the space-time continuum. Very well, officer. But My Husband’s story would be far more engaging.

Last Tuesday, I began to plot my revenge.

They were talking after practice— Susan, Sharon, and Karen. Sharon’s birthday had passed. Her husband had taken her to see Phantom of the Opera.

“Not for the first time, of course,” Sharon said. She laughed.

The others laughed. Oh-no-of-course-not.

I laughed. Oh-no-of-course-not. Of-course-it’s-not-her-first-time-that-would-be-disgraceful-ha- ha-ha.

“That was my fourth time,” Sharon said. “But every time I go, it still feels like the first.” She turned to Susan with a smile. “How often have you been, Susan?”

“Three times, and they’ve all been wonderful, of course,” Susan said. “What about you, Karen?”

Karen’s smile was small. “I’ve only been the once, but, well. . . it was Michael Crawford.”

She lowered her voice like a police detective naming a drug found on a crime scene. “Crack-cocaine,” she might have said. She might have said it with a grim look and residue on her finger. She might have said it with an illicit thrill. “Michael Crawford.”

The others laughed. Oh-yes-of-course-Michael-Crawford-how-lucky.

I laughed. Oh-yes-of-course-crack-cocaine-simply-marvelous-no-comparison.

Karen put on a smile. She turned to me with a hand outstretched. “And what about. . . you?” They did not call me SARA. They called me nothing.

“What about me?” I inquired in return. I am very polite and precise when it comes to conversation.

Karen’s hand fell to her side. Her smile sagged. “Have you seen Phantom?”  

“I have not yet had the honor of attending such a performance with my husband,” I replied. I stretched my lips to prepare for a joke. My Husband had not programmed me with a sense of humor, but I liked to experiment. “Though I, too, hope that one day Michael Crawford—” I whispered with a knowing nod at Karen. “—will drag me, kicking and screaming, into his basement beneath the opera house to become his unwilling bride.”

They did not laugh at my jokes. Ever.

Sharon looked at me. I heard her murmur to Susan and Karen: “The other Sara—”

I had heard that before. Every Tuesday and Thursday for the past four months. Again, and again.

The other Sara had probably seen Phantom five times, six times— a thousand times. The other Sara hosted brunch at her house every other Sunday. The other Sara never wore the same blouse twice. The other Sara would have signed up for the quilting bee. The other Sara ran an a-dor-a- ble blog about her purebred Pomeranian puppy. The other Sara could make them laugh, could make My Husband smile.

The other Sara is gone.

“Crawford is just a stage name,” I told them. Their talking stopped. They stared. “His birth name is Michael Patrick Smith. He was born on January 19, 1942, the same day the Japanese began the conquest of Burma during World War II.” I smiled my polite smile. “I am not saying he is responsible, but it is something to consider. And the dog is dead, too.”

I walked away. Our Child was standing alone in the dandelions.

Thursday. The next practice was Thursday. My turn to bring an after-practice snack. The bringing of snacks was an important ritual to these women. I had done it before— water infused with vitamins. I added chemicals to stimulate the sensation of fullness so Our Child and the others would feel satiated. It was a perfectly clever concoction. Refreshing and replenishing.

“The other Sara used to make lemon squares,” Susan had said.

How simple. How pathetically simple. How human.

I moved toward My Husband after entering the domicile.

My Husband’s eyes slid over me. His hand was wrapped around the neck of a bottle. He is always drinking, of course. My Husband once explained that alcohol is the fuel that enables His continued existence. Five empty bottles lay on the floor. My Husband had been taking very good care of Himself.

“May I use Your Laboratory, My Dear?” I asked Him. I smiled my loving smile.

My Husband’s face is very handsome. He does not need to smile to be handsome.

He closed His eyes. His eyelids were thin and soft. “Why?”

His voice! Every circuit within me flooded with joy! I smiled my joyful smile. If My Husband had ever made a single flaw, it was that my face could never express the flooding fires of joy- joy-joy His voice sent shuddering within me.

“I am working on a recipe, My Dear. To complete it, I would need to make use of Your equipment.” 

I did not fear rejection. If He refused, then refusal was the only acceptable response. But He nodded His head. His eyes stayed closed. He did not smile. He did not need to smile to be perfect.

I would have worked uninterrupted if not for my other duties. Care and cleaning of Our Home. Care and cleaning of Our Child. Kitchen, bedrooms, hallways, bathrooms, and Our Child were seen to. It was Only after My Husband retired to His Bedroom that I began to clean the living room. The bottles and stains on the carpet did not surprise me. But a large black book did. The book was spread open on the couch. Loose photographs were scattered around it.

I did not study the photographs out of curiosity, officer. I assimilate and analyze data with speed and precision— it is my nature. In the seconds it took to put the photographs in their rightful place, every detail was imprinted in my mind. It could not be helped.

I saw My Husband, smiling.

My Husband was so handsome when He smiled.

I saw My Husband, smiling, with His arm around her.

I did not stare at her, officer. Even if I had, it would be no worse than glancing at a mirror. A broken mirror, perhaps. One that warped my features into human imperfection. But I did not. For less than a millisecond, her face was in my frame of vision. That is all.

Our Child was in the photograph. Younger, smiling, missing a tooth. I smiled at that. Two sets of flawed teeth— an intriguing quirk of human design. I had set that right within days of my motherhood, extracting each imperfect tooth and implanting new ones, like my own, that would need no replacement.

Our Child was wearing an absurd conical headdress, leaning over a heavily-frosted fire hazard.

“Jamie’s sixth birthday,” read the caption on the back. Bubbly, rounded handwriting. Pink pen. An anatomically incorrect heart drawn beside it.

I placed the photograph within its rightful slot in the black book. I placed the book on its rightful place on the bookshelf. I returned to my rightful place and resumed the experiments.

I spent the next two days perfecting the recipe. Cooking and chemistry, cooking and calculus. Lemon squares. Lemon cubes. Lemon squares squared. Lemon squares in one dimension. In two. In three.

Thursday arrived. I had completed my masterpiece. Something the other Sara could have never made.  

Lemon squares in four dimensions.

It was time for soccer practice. I called to Our Child. I smiled my sweet smile at My Husband as I held the covered tray. “Goodbye, My Dear,” I said to Him. “Would You like a kiss before I go?” I ask him this every day.

He did not kiss me, like the television husbands and wives, like the soccer moms and their soccer mates. He did not touch me. My Husband never touches me.

I did not fear rejection. If My Husband rejects me, it is because I deserve it.

Revenge burned inside me, inside the silver tray as I marched on the soccer field.

They clouded my mind, officer. Those women! Those intolerable Soccer Mom women! Those ever-chattering mothers and wives, with soft- curved smiles and conversations that excluded me! With their coded laughter and mysterious amusements! With their Michael-Crawford-crack-cocaine-Broadway-addiction they giggled at mindlessly! With their brunches, and gossip, and quilting bees, and blouses, and friendships, and smiles, and smiles, and smiles, and laughter and love—

Their love—

Those women, not constructed perfectly, as I was, but born, squirming and raw. Those women, with moist, little eyes, with softer skin than mine— the fragility! The shame of it! Lemon squares, the greatest geometric marvel they could offer!

Ha!   

I laughed! Ha-ha-ha!

My life is perfect. My love is perfect. My Husband is perfect!  

“The snack is ready,” I announced with my perfect smile.

The children moved like ants. They poured forward, wiggling and writhing, insignificant and small. Their gaping mouths let out meaningless noise. Our Child was standing alone with the dandelions.

The women stood nearby. Eyes narrowed. Watching. Looking for mistakes.

I threw the lid aside and my lemon squares tore at reality in all dimensions.

Light exploded outward. Neon scalded the air. A human might have compared it to the blur of heat rising from a fire. How limited. Their eyes could not perceive the depth of the wound. My lemon squares were not a knife but a scalpel, slipping beneath flesh and into the bones of this fragile dimension.

Shards of color pierced their eyes, skin, brains. Colors beyond their feeble perception. They did not call these colors names. They called them nothing. An endless array of burning brilliance, shifting from one wavelength to the next with “beauty” entirely unseen by human eyes.

But they felt it. It may have only been awareness, a painful awareness of a new existence that transcended their own. This dazzling array of piercing light that I alone could witness without blinking.

The nerves behind their eyes started to melt. They bubbled over like a pot abandoned on the stove by human negligence. Fluid gushed from their ocular cavities.

Dead mothers with staring sockets and stunned children blinking back the light littered the soccer field. The grass faded back to an average green. The sky paled blue.

I stopped laughing. I put the lid back on. I smiled my cheerful smile. It was over then.   

I suppose I ought to apologize for the deaths of those women. It was too much for them, being made to see beyond the three dimensions of their soft, little eyes. I am very sorry, officer.

The other Sara would never have done such a thing.

#original fiction #short story #writing on tumblr #fiction #(1/1/2020)#(originally written in spring of 2019)#lemon squares in all dimensions

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robronsecretsanta · 5 years

Photo

a madness to the method

(AO3)

Rating: E

For @notforonesecond . Merry Christmas! From your Secret Santa. May this bring you as much joy as your presence on here brings me.

:::::

He stands there, script page in hand and a growing pit in his stomach, as Robert Sugden walks up to him with a grin.

“What you waiting for? Get your kit off.”

:::::

It’s his third big role, but the first one that actually means something, Aaron having acted in a couple of big-budget blockbuster films to date; the last two even giving him some lines and some stunts, the latter of which he’d done himself. But so far most of his career has involved plenty of little-known stage work and a few well-received indies, as well as a particularly popular episode of Black Mirror.

He’s fairly certain that’s what landed him this script, his wide body of emotionally driven work. Not every day a Frank Clayton production sends a part your way. Not every day Harriet Finch is attached to direct. (Aaron’s pretty sure he’s one of the few people who’s seen the entirety of her oeuvre, even purchased some of the early stuff on DVD, forcing his best mate Adam to sit through whole movie marathons of her work, dissecting every shot inch by inch.)

The film’s a period piece about two young men who fall in love as a war looms over them; two lovers star-crossed in one of the worst ways possible. Both stuck going to war terrified the other won’t come home. Only they do, if not a little emotionally scarred and a little physically injured. The reunion is emotionally sweet and full of hope — exactly the kind of story Aaron wishes he could have grown up with. Because sometimes a happy ending really makes a difference. He’d almost learned that hard way.

“You sure you want to do this?” His mother asks, curled up on his sofa in his flat in North London and peaking up at him with big brown eyes through dark, bit-too-long bangs. “People might start asking whether you’re gay, love.”

Aaron understands her concerns and where she’s coming from. Doesn’t stop him from shrugging them off and holding firm to the feeling in his gut.

“Let them,” he says, lips downturned at the corners as he paces across the living room determinedly. “Not got anything to hide, have I?”

Despite all his bravado, there’s a flicker of doubt. If this somewhat calculated risk doesn’t pan out, it could be the end of the upward trajectory of his acting career. For all it’s progress on the LGBTQIA-depiction front, Hollywood itself isn’t as accepting of openly queer actors. And while Aaron won’t miss the perks of rising fame at all, he will miss getting to work on more interesting projects or movies, like this one.

Still, Aaron Dingle has never been a liar, and he’s not going to start now. Especially when it comes to his sexuality.

:::::

His agent, a no-nonsense woman named Priya, approves of his decision immediately. She knows he’s gay, has known from the start. But it’s never affected her decision to take him on as a client. (It’s one of the reasons Aaron’s stuck with her so long; tying his rising star to her job.)

“You’ve certainly got the talent and the range to pull this off,” she states and it feels less like a dream and more like reality. “With Finch directing it, this could become potential Oscar material. This part’ll definitely get you noticed.”

Aaron smiles and nods along, because that is nice he supposes. He’s just glad the production company don’t want yet another audition, or even a chemistry read with his yet-to-be-announced co-star. He’s sick of them at this point.

“Who’s the other lead?” He asks, fingers picking at each other, left knee bouncing in the chair. He’s about ready to leave Priya’s office. But the second he hears her answer, he’s stuck bolted to his seat. His mind reeling with the news of it.

Robert Sugden.

:::::

To say he’s heard of Robert Sugden is the understatement of the century. If anything, he’s the one responsible for Aaron’s sexual awakening.

Like most teenage boys his age, he’d been obsessed with the Transformers movies. Only unlike his best mate Adam, he didn’t fall asleep and wake up hard to thoughts of the hot female lead. No, despite his best attempts at the time, his mind always drifted to the slightly older but also teenaged Robert Sugden; the son of a famous actor who’d also made it big quite young, starring in at least two popular TV series. (In hindsight, Aaron’s desire to purchase and put up a shirtless poster of Robert on his bedroom wall should have been a big hint as to his nascent gayness. But like all sexually confused teenagers he’d managed to convince himself he was more into the trucks instead; that he wanted to be Robert Sugden, not be with him.)

He’d spent a full summer when he was 15 watching his way through Robert’s early work, bingeing that one popular science fiction series where he and a group of teens investigated strange paranormal phenomena at their English boarding school. A part of him had come alive when a body-swap episode had caused Robert’s character’s body to be a possessed by a female friend’s, resulting in him kissing and making out with her boyfriend who’d been played by Pete Barton. (Aaron had spent the ensuing weeks reading and rewatching everything to with those few minutes of airtime, refusing to let anyone play over his recording. He’d worn out the tape till it could play no longer.)

The first time he’d come was a few weeks later, Robert’s name on his lips as he’d pictured being kissed by him, his hand moving up and down the length of his naked shaft faster and faster; rock hard and aching at just the thought of him.

Robert. Fucking. Sugden.

What are the odds?

He doesn’t know whether to quit the project or just die of mortification. How is he supposed to act against someone he’s had those kinds of thoughts about? (He’s never had limits for who you should love and be with. After all, that would be a tad hypocritical of him. But some lines shouldn’t be crossed, no matter the project, and he’s fairly convinced this is one of them.)

He mentions this to Adam when he comes over to play FIFA on the PS4 later, only his best mate doesn’t quite seem to get it. Though to be fair, he’s never really had to deal with this, has he?

“So what? You used to jerk off to him. Big deal!” Adam shrugs, cycling through the options and picking his players. “If I said I’d avoid every female celeb I did that with, I wouldn’t be able to work with any of them.”

Aaron makes a face, even if he does concede that Adam has a point — not that he’s out there having to act against… (He’s actually not sure who this week’s flavour of the month is. Adam’s feelings of attraction waxing and waning like the moon.)

“Though,” Adam says, turning to look at him when he’s satisfied with his choices. “His sister Victoria is pretty fit. Do you think you could get her number?”

Aaron tosses a cushion at his face. Leave it to Adam to miss the point completely.

It bounces off and falls onto Adam’s lap, he picks it up and places it beside him.

When he turns toward Aaron this time, he looks a lot more serious, an earnestness in his gaze that wasn’t there before.

“Listen,” he says, voice soft yet firm. “You’ve wanted to be in one of Finch’s movies ever since I’ve known ya. Don’t back out now just because of Sugden.”

Aaron nods, though he’s still not convinced. Adam must see it because he then adds, “You’ll do fine. You’re an amazing actor. That’s why they wanted you for this part, you know, instead of me.”

Aaron shoots him a look and Adam just shrugs. Turns his attention back to the TV screen as he says, “What? I’m a scene stealer. Everyone knows that.”

That triggers a laugh and when it’s over, Aaron feels a lot lighter. But even as they both accept their team and kit selections and start the game, his mind drifts back to a young, shirtless Robert…

:::::

He keeps the part after all, the announcement making some waves in the press. However, any intrusiveness into his personal life is circumvented by the latest news about Robert. Rumour has it that he’s up for consideration as the new James Bond. Aaron had laughed when he’d first read the news. But laying in bed, later that night, he can’t help but picture Robert in a trademark suit, smirking down the barrel of a gun, the way he’s become known for.

It’s enough to make him shaken and stirred — not that he lifts a finger to relieve himself of the dull, building throb. (If there’s one thing Aaron Dingle’s sure about, it’s that it’s impolite to pleasure oneself to the thoughts of an upcoming co-star. Even if they were the starring role in his teenage fantasies.)

He ends up taking a cold shower instead.

:::::

Meeting Harriet Finch is everything like he’d imagined, and yet nothing like it at all.

Aaron spends all morning practicing what he wants to say to her, pacing back and forth in his newly assigned trailer — which happens to be both bigger and more luxurious than he’d expected. None of the words of praise he’s wanted to lavish her with seeming right for the moment, or even worthy of her, but he keeps practicing all the same.

That’s why he’s thrown when she comes to see him, telling him how much she’d enjoyed his turn in a small play he’d done last summer as a favour to an old friend (and ex-boyfriend), Ed.

She smiles at him with kind, dark eyes and outlines the many ways in which he’d knocked that role out of the park, followed by his performance in those few movies and, of course, Black Mirror.

“I knew you were the right man for the part the moment I saw you,” she says, voice like a warm woollen blanket, the words wrapping him up in a cocoon of comfort. “You’ll make a marvellous ‘Thomas.’ I just know it. I’m glad to have you on this project.”

But just as he’s basking in the glow of her reassurance, she asks the dreaded question.

“Have you met Robert Sugden?”

:::::

If first meetings dictate how the rest of a working relationship might go, Robert and Aaron’s is already off to a really bad start.

He’d shown up to Robert’s trailer and gone in after knocking a few times, only to find him in the throes of being orally pleasured.

Aaron hadn’t recognised the woman, just seen the back of her head, as she’d kneeled in front of Robert and blown him. Robert was sitting on the edge of his trailer’s bed and leaning back, both arms supporting his weight across the still-made comforter. His shirt was unbuttoned and he’d got his leather jacket on, neck exposed as he half lay there jerking and groaning.

He’d seemed to sense Aaron because Robert had looked up at once, locking eyes across the short distance. He’d given him a long hard look, then flashed him a wink and a smile, before closing his eyes and coming into the woman’s mouth not very long after.

Cheeks reddening and more than a little shocked, Aaron had turned and bolted. He’d wanted to spare that poor woman the embarrassment of knowing he’d seen this happening, but more importantly, process it all himself.

Standing in his own trailer he wants to kick himself for being such a goddamn fool. The tabloids had been reporting this side of Robert Sugden for years on end. But Aaron had ignored them because that’s what you were supposed to do. (And maybe, he tries not to acknowledge as his heart continues to pound, because it had ruined his fantasy of Robert and his younger self.)

But for all his talent — and he has plenty of it — Robert Sugden has always been a bit of a playboy; has the ex-wife and half a dozen ex-girlfriends to prove it. The result of this is a respectable body of work, but no one noticing because of all the gossip. (Aaron had once suspected this was Robert trying to undersell himself, maybe a bit nervous of all the extended limelight. He’d grown up Jack Sugden’s son, had had to bear that mantle, while also carving a name for himself, with not much room for error.)

Any sympathy he’d once felt though, has now been stripped away, replaced with cold, hard knowledge. Robert Sugden actually enjoys behaving like this, and Aaron can’t believe he’d liked him.

As he starts pacing, his heart still racing, Aaron gets madder and madder. They’ve both been given a golden opportunity being cast in these roles, and it’s something Robert wants to squander?

He’d wanted to walk away from this project because he’d been worried about his own personal hang-ups. Not wanting any former feelings for Robert to affect his performance. But now all he can think about is Robert’s smile and his wink, as if showing off his sexual prowess to Aaron.

This feels good, and I made that happen. Maybe I can do that for you as well?

Aaron growls, feels like punching something nearby, hating the small part of him that had kind of enjoyed it; that place deep within himself that still tends a tiny flame devoted to Robert Sugden; that place that had enjoyed watching him come.

It’s not your fault, Aaron tells himself, trying to banish the recent memory from his mind — though he’d spent years picturing and imaging exactly that. Him blowing Robert and feeling him coming under him, his palms flat against his thighs. (Sometimes he’d imagine the flip of it too. Him coming apart in Robert’s hands, his mouth smirking as Aaron comes right into it.)

He’s just managed to get rid of it, when he hears a dry chuckle, spins around to find Robert standing in his trailer, blue shirt all buttoned and jeans up and belted, like that midday blowjob hadn’t happened.

He smiles at him, blue-green eyes glittering, “So I take it you’re Aaron Dingle.”

It sends a thrill up his neck, short hairs lightly lifting, at the prospect of Robert Sugden saying his name. But then annoyance sets in as that memory comes back and Aaron grunts his affirmation.

“What do you want?”

Robert doesn’t seem deterred, doesn’t even seem to clock his rudeness. Just smiles at him like he said something funny. “To apologise. That wasn’t how I’d pictured our first meeting.”

“Why? You plan on having your cock in someone else’s mouth?” Aaron fires back, a little shocked that Robert had ever given meeting him any thought.

Robert’s eyes widen at the accusation, but whatever it is that came over him passes because he laughs and clears his throat. “No. Wasn’t planning to, actually. Just wanted to tell you what a big fan I am.”

His eyes flit away, and his smile kind of softens. Robert looks back at Aaron. “And that I’m looking forward to us working together.”

If Aaron hadn’t seen what he’d seen, he’d believe every word of this, Robert coming across well-meaning and earnest. But then he remembers just how good of an actor his co-star-to-be really is and snorts. “Nice try. Hope you’re better on camera.”

Robert winces at that, but his smile remains, even if it’s starting to look a little brittle.

“I’m sorry about what happened, alright?” Robert says, frustration colouring his voice at the edges. Aaron can see that this really is paining him; Robert not that good of an actor. “Let’s start over.”

He takes a step forward and holds out his hand. “Hi. I’m Robert Sugden.”

Aaron ignores it, crosses his arms across his chest.

“I know who you are,” he spits out.

Robert looks confused, studies him further before withdrawing his hand and eventually letting it drop. He puts it in his jacket pocket and renews his smile at Aaron. It’s just as small and soft as earlier.

“I’m trying, you know,” he says and Aaron can feel himself willing to give him that inch, to soften and forgive Robert so they can start over. But then he thinks about how smug and cocky he’d been just before he’d come right in front of him, and a wave of pulsing, hot annoyance shoots right through him.

“Then try harder,” Aaron half-growls, taking a small step further. And then, “And maybe try keepin’ your dick to yourself.”

:::::

Production kicks off without any further hitches, and he quickly gets to know the rest of their cast and crew — even becoming friends with a production assistant named Ellis.

Though most of the time Aaron just stays put in his trailer, constantly rehearsing and working on his character.

Harriet seems happy with his performance so far, giving him any extra takes he wants to do. But Aaron hasn’t been able to get in a groove that makes him truly happy; where he has an understanding of his character inside and out.

From the script, his own chat with Harriet, and the homework he’s done, he knows “Thomas James” to be a straightforward fellow, a little tentative, but earnest with his feelings.

He’s a farmer who owns and works his own farm, before one day he runs into Felix, his new and struggling neighbour. Felix’s family has lost most of their estate; bad debts and investments before the beginnings of the war hit. All they have now, is this one farm to their name, and Felix, a city boy — or rather, man — through and through has no clue how to run it.

Unable to stand it, Thomas steps in to help him, and Felix promises to do his accounts in trade. Thomas agrees, the spark between them growing and burning brighter.

Robert and he have played and shot a handful of those initial scenes, mostly set up for the rest of the story. But as their characters have seemed to find an easy camaraderie, there barely exists one between them.

For his part, Robert hasn’t really paused his efforts to win Aaron over, always making jokes and trying to give him an opening. Internally, Aaron struggles not to let go and give in, not having run into Robert with his cock down someone else’s throat since.

He doesn’t understand how Robert can just switch into his role and then right out of it, a slippery fish if there ever was one. He throws on Felix’s skin like it’s one of those button-up shirts he so favours, constantly remaining in costume longer than needed. (Aaron actually doesn’t mind that because it’s easy on the eyes and for their characters, Robert wearing 1920 period garb like he was born for it.)

Felix is smart and inept, but also charming and funny, a gay man in his shell, with no real interest in marriage. Just a blushing eye turned towards Thomas.

And that’s the part that kind of stings in their scenes, because it’s in those moments that Aaron feels he can really see the Robert he once had a crush on; a hint of him shining through.

It’s in Robert’s small smiles and the soft in his eyes, the blue-green of them a warm summer ocean.

But then Harriet says, “Cut” and it all disappears, Robert’s eyes growing cooler, his body more indifferent; tensed and held in a way he doesn’t when he’s Felix, like he’s holding a deep breath in.

That’s the first thing Aaron notices as they take a break before they shoot their first big scene, a first kiss where both men realise their mutual attraction.

They’re standing in a field, where Felix’s tractor has broken down, and Thomas has ridden up in his horse to help fix it.

As Aaron walks through the wet grass, his period accurate boots and jeans sinking into the mud a little, he gets his first glimpse of Robert.

His shirt sleeves are rolled back and his brow is plastered with sweat. He’s clearly been out in a full afternoon of labour.

They go through the dialogue, Felix directing Thomas to the back of the tractor, some kind of malfunction trapped within it. Thomas gives it a look, and Aaron produces a short grunt of surveyance, really giving it a decent study.

Then exhaling slowly he offers Thomas’ suggestion, that sometimes you just need to push it. He does as he says, and gives the tractor a shove, before letting his knees soften and himself fall forward in the muck.

Above him, he can hear Robert’s laughter bursting forth loud and clear, and he knows instantly it’s not his acting as Felix. He turns to his side and shoots Robert a dirty look, but in his chest his heart skips a beat at it.

Finally springing into action Felix leans forward and offers Thomas a hand, Robert bending and extending his hand out. The laughter still shines in his eyes, even if it’s not coming out his lips, his breath still short and him still panting.

Something surges in Aaron and he feels Thomas’ quiet sense of humour, reaches up and pulls Robert down towards him.

Robert captures all of Felix’ (and probably some of his own) surprise, his own knees bending as he falls atop Aaron; the hard firmness of his limbs utterly unexpected, and yet fitting against him perfectly.

He’s now laying on his back in the mud, feeling the cold soak into his tough warm denim, the flannel of his shirt doing little to protect him. But none of that matters as Robert gazes down at him, both their chests pressed together.

The script says this is where Felix kisses Thomas, too physically close for any more doubted restraint. Only Robert hasn’t moved, just keeps on laying there, mere centimetres away, his eyes trained down on Aaron’s lips, as if frozen by disbelief and nervousness.

Probably just nervous about kissing another man, Aaron thinks, flashing back to Robert kissing Pete Barton, and the way his hands had cupped his face. Probably worried that this time someone might think he’s gay.

Deep inside Aaron, something aches. He lets out a small, frustrated huff, his head relaxing back into the wet dirt, resigning himself to a long wait.

And then it’s like something snaps, because Robert leans forward, lunging for his lips with everything he has; his tongue barely waiting as Aaron’s lips part. (They hadn’t rehearsed this, or even really discussed it. Aaron not wanting to spend more time around Robert than entirely necessary.)

But as he lays here now, Aaron can’t help but give himself over to it, letting Robert’s fingers skim his sides before they bunch up in the warmth of his flannel shirt, his hands finding their way onto Robert’s lower back and his hair. He holds Robert’s head firm as he deepens the kiss. His co-star isn’t the only one who can improvise.

He doesn’t feel the lack of oxygen until the tail end of a groan, too deep into it to know if it’s from him or Robert.

When they pull apart both of them are panting. Robert’s gaze comes back up and they lock eyes again, a lock of his blonde hair dropping onto Aaron’s forehead, as his breath continues to tickle his lips; both wet and a little blitzed.

Deep in the depths of Robert’s green and blues, Aaron sees a spark of searching nervousness and hesitation. He brushes that bit of hair back almost without thinking; an unconscious act of soothing.

He can hear Robert’s breath hitch at the feel of his thumb pad on his skin, sees the way his eyes drop back down to Aaron’s lips. No longer nervous, and still barely thinking, Aaron leans up and presses another kiss to his lips, this time a more sweet and chaste one.

When he pulls back, Robert still has his eyes closed, almost cute in his stunned still surprise. Aaron finds himself smiling and recording this picture mentally; filled with the desire to go back in time and tell himself, “We kissed Robert Sugden!”

Robert opens his eyes and a second later Harriet yells, “Cut!” Aaron can’t help but feel interrupted.

What did you want to say? He wants to ask, as they both get to their feet. Aaron barely makes an attempt to clean himself off. He knows he needs a good shower.

Next to him, Robert seems to be avoiding his eyes, focusing a little too hard on dusting his pants off. Aaron tries not to spend too much time admiring his bum in the process.

They’re walking off set, when Robert makes the joke, voice flippant and tone just insulting.

“Feel like hitting a strip club, eh?” He says with what is meant to be a playful nudge. “Need to see some naked tits, pronto.”

It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, this being a movie and all, but it still stings hard and deep all the same.

Aaron feels hot anger come over him without much warning, and he explodes back at Robert in a rage.

“All of this is just one big joke to ya, isn’t it?” He practically spits out the words in a low, angry growl as he shoves Robert backwards into a nearby trailer.

He doesn’t care if anyone’s nearby, or if they even see him. All he can see and hear is Robert.

“These are people’s lives,” he continues, the line of his right forearm held against Robert’s chest, constricting the way he breathes slightly. “Do you even get that?”

“It’s just a joke,” Robert answers, sounding both defensive and soft.

Aaron couldn’t give a toss about it.

“Excuse me if I don’t think bein’ gay is funny,” he fires back, leans in a little and lets the anger radiate off his face, hoping Robert gets the message.

Apparently, he does, because his eyes just widen, and then he’s saying, “Aaron, I’m sorry. I didn’t-“

He knows he’s not exactly hiding his sexuality, but Aaron isn’t really advertising it either, so it sends him reeling back the second he realises Robert has figured out he’s gay.

He stands there panting, anger being replaced by panic, the air evacuating his lungs just as his heart takes residence in his ears.

He turns and walks away before his balance decides to go, can feel his knees weakening with each step he takes; thinks he hears Robert calling at him in the distance.

Calling him because he knows this thing about him.

Calling him because he knows he’s gay.

Shit.

:::::

He’s exiting his trailer when he runs into Robert again. Aaron almost bolts the instant he sees him — only to realise he’s blocking his way.

“Aaron, wait,” Robert pleads, looking up at him from the bottom of those short metal stairs. Aaron almost turns around and goes back inside.

But then he notices that Robert is still in his costume — which is not too much of a surprise — but it’s a sign that he’s been waiting outside this entire time. As much as he doesn’t want to, Aaron knows he must honour that. From what he’s seen, Robert Sugden does that for no one.

“You going to invite me inside?” Robert asks when he sees Aaron willingly to stick around in his trailer doorway.. His attempt at a teasing smile fades when he gets Aaron’s answer.

“Whatever you want to say in there, you can say out here.” Aaron crosses his hoodie-covered arms across his chest, retaining the warmth within it.

Robert nods, and takes one step higher, making this whole conversation a little more private. Aaron can smell him, even standing a few inches away; the intermingled scent of mud and sweat and Robert. (The note is slightly floral but kind of muted like Lavender, but Aaron can’t be sure because he doesn’t know flowers.)

“Sorry I made those jokes earlier,” Robert says softly, and Aaron can see that he’s being absolutely serious. “I don’t think being gay is funny…”

Aaron doesn’t say anything, just keeps on watching. He can see that Robert is on the edge of something.

After what feels likes very long pause, it finally drops. “… because I’m actually bisexual.”

He can’t seem to meet Aaron’s eyes as he says that, his cheeks going pink as he looks away and to the left. Standing this close Aaron can feel the tension radiating off of him in waves, coming over him in rapid succession.

Aaron swallows, not sure what exactly to make of it; his teenage dreams all coming true in an instant. So he bites his tongue and holds back his first three replies, and then offers the one he feels is most supportive.

“Thanks for telling me,” he says and he finds that he means it. He’s actually a little touched by Robert’s choice to trust him.

“Figured it was the least I owe you,” Robert says with a shy smile, and for a second Aaron really feels like he’s looking at Felix.

His inner Thomas makes him return it.

“That why you wanted to do this movie?” Aaron asks when the moment eventually passes. It’s a big question he knows, but he needs an answer.

“No, actually,” Robert explains with a chuckle, something raw and unguarded about him now. Like he’s been acting this entire time Aaron has known him.

“I’m a big fan of hers,” Robert says with an excited smile. “She was my mum’s favourite director.”

Aaron gets it and gives him a nod. “Yeah, I’m a big fan myself.”

Robert grins at this little piece of information, a bigger reward than he was expecting.

“Guess this means we should definitely be friends,” Robert suggests, shyness still lacing his voice. “Don’t know many people who’ve even heard of Harriet.”

Aaron studies Robert, takes the entirety of him in, considers it and then shrugs. “Guess you’re not a complete idiot.”

Robert’s smile when he says that is radiant.

:::::

That night he dreams of Robert, the same one he’d had when he was fifteen. Only this time his brain fills in all the missing details.

He needs another shower in the morning.

:::::

Things improve on set by a thousandfold. Robert’s one-sided jibes giving way to Aaron returning them, both of them ribbing and teasing each other between takes. Robert somehow becomes a mainstay on his trailer’s sofa, as they hang out a lot more between scenes, running lines and even whole scenes together.

They seem to have found a quiet understanding when it comes to each other and their space.. (Though, coming out to each other does that, Aaron supposes.)

It’s crazy, but he genuinely thinks it makes both of their scenes better. Both of them now freer with how they move and touch each other. Aaron had once read somewhere that it has to do with the language of how queer people sometimes act and speak; a quiet understanding of how love can be writ across their bodies. He doesn’t know how much he agrees with that exactly. But he does feel it when Robert hugs him as Felix.

It’s a gentle gesture, Robert coming from behind and embracing him around the waist, one hand coming up to rest over Aaron’s heart. Aaron presses those fingers close to his chest, letting Robert feel the steady rise of his heartbeat as he sinks back into him; Thomas leaning into Felix.

They stand like that in silence for a moment longer, Robert’s chin on Aaron’s shoulder, both of them

bathing in the pale sunlight of a cool autumn morning, as filtered through the dusty windows of Thomas’ work shed.

It’s as they’re standing, silently breathing and hearts quickly beating that Aaron is seized by a sudden urge. Following the wave of it, he brings Robert’s fingers up to his lips, gently pressing a kiss on each knuckle as if soothing away newly-formed blisters — the results of Felix’ recent hard labour.

The moment his lips touch skin he hears Robert’s breath hitch, but it only guides him forward. He holds that last kiss longest, before pulling away and spinning them around, Robert’s back now pressing into the edge of Thomas’ workstation, their hands caught between them; Aaron’s fingers wrapped around Robert’s wrist, his thumb resting on his speeding pulse.

Robert for his part, seems to be trusting Aaron implicitly as he gazes down at Aaron first with surprise and then excitement. He smiles softly, clearly anticipating a kiss. Aaron smiles back and obliges him.

It’s completely unscripted and wholly them and yet none of it feels any bit of wrong. Aaron leans forward, slowly edging closer, his eyes locked into Robert’s. He hovers for a second, feels his breath bounce off Robert’s lips, then dips forward and claims them.

This kiss doesn’t progress as quickly as the first one did, Robert letting Aaron set the pace by which they go by. So he takes his time, focuses on nipping at Robert’s bottom lip; gentle kisses that should convey Thomas’ affections.

But then Robert’s hands start to slide across his back, pulling and holding him closer — only nothing about the gesture feels overtly sexual. It’s just two men standing and savouring the act of kissing, two men revelling in their affections.

They kiss a little longer, the pace still languid, Robert letting him take his sweet time, before Aaron decides to pause and not take it any further.

He pulls away, lets out his own small exhale — the matching one to Robert’s. He smiles at him, Robert returns it. Then with another small breath he leans his forehead against the other man’s; shuts his eyes and feels the feel of his skin against his own.

A few seconds pass, Robert still holding him close, Aaron feeling like he’s just survived a continuous free fall.

It’s in the middle of this that he hears Harriet’s quietly spoken words, “And that’s a wrap. Not going to get a better take than that one.”

:::::

He’s on his way off set when Robert catches up with him, grabbing his elbow to still him.

He doesn’t let go even when Aaron stops in place, only does when Aaron looks at him questioningly, despite the whole thing feeling natural.

“You doing anything later?” Robert asks, both hands in his leather jacket pockets, a leather messenger bag slung across his chest and shoulders. “Thought you might like to come over for a drink.”

Aaron considers it, gives it a long hard thought, but it must make Robert panic because he blurts out, “We can run lines or something.”

“Yeah, okay,” Aaron tells him, giving him a nod. And then, because he thinks Robert might have the wrong impression of him and he doesn’t at all like that.

“We don’t always have to work, you know. I do have other interests..”

Robert grins and nudges him in the side. Then he goes into an impression of Aaron.

“I’m Aaron Dingle and I think work is fun. If you don’t, then you’re a right idiot.”

Aaron tries not to, but he can’t stop himself chuckling, a little charmed by Robert’s intonation.

:::::

He finds that Robert’s home is nothing like he’d imagined, more lived in and comfortable than overly posh — though he has all sorts of shiny appliances in the kitchen. A mark of either a man who cooks, or just someone who likes the aesthetic. (Aaron is willing to bet it’s the first one.)

The bookshelves — of which there are two big ones — are stuffed to the gills, brimming with books threatening to fall off them. The walls, a nice calming shade of blue, are covered in posters paying homage to some of his favourite works of science fiction.

“Didn’t know you were such a nerd,” Aaron says when he’s got a drink in hand, as he looks up at a poster of The Xavier Files, the show he’d been more than a little obsessed with. Robert is standing front and centre as the star, his boarding school uniform fitting him flatteringly. (Aaron swallows, his blood growing warmer as he understands where certain fantasies might have originated from. He tries not to think about it in case he’ll need another cold shower. He’s already taken one before coming to this place.)

“You just don’t understand art,” Robert retorts, coming over to join him. He looks at the poster for a good second and then adds, “Or quality science fiction.”

Aaron snorts at that, unable to contain himself. “Think you’re using the term rather loosely. The ‘Gavoorians’? Come on.”

Robert looks at him in surprise, and maybe a hint of pleasure, as he says, “Don’t tell me youwatched it?”

Aaron goes red, feels his mouth turn dry, so he answers as honestly as he can, trying not to let the truth of the matter slip out even as he looks Robert in the eye.

“Might have caught an episode or two one summer,” he says, voice straining to remain casual. Then he adds, because he can’t help himself, “Saw the one where you kissed Pete Barton.”

Robert’s face goes from surprise to embarrassment to all-out amusement, barking a laugh with his neck tipped back, his shoulders relaxing and also dipping down. Aaron’s never seen him this joyful.

“What?” Robert says, growing suddenly conscious, his laughter fading and his body going still. His cheeks are pink as he studies Aaron.

“Nothing,” Aaron shrugs, voice above a whisper. His ears are hot, his pulse pounding. “Just wasn’t expecting this reaction, is all.”

“Well, it’s a bit of a surprise,” Robert explains, as if it all makes sense. “Didn’t think you’d have even heard of it, let alone watched it.”

“Why not? Because I don’t understand ‘science fiction’?” Aaron teases, oddly thrilled at subverting Robert’s expectations like this. “Don’t have to watch a lot to understand quality.”

“So you agree,” Robert smirks, nudging him with his elbow, a twinkle in his eye. “It is science fiction.”

Aaron snorts, nudges him back. “I suppose. But you’re really stretching the definition.”

They smile at each other, then go back to sipping their drinks, settling comfortably in the silence.

“I loved working on that show,” Robert says after quite a long beat, his voice holding a note of pride. But it’s quiet and with absolutely no hint of preening. “And kissing Pete wasn’t half bad either.”

Aaron feels his cheeks redden as he pictures it again, teenage Pete and Robert going at it.

“Did you have a crush on him, or something?” He looks down at the glass in his hand. He’d never thought he’d be having this conversation with Robert Sugden.

“God, no.” Robert shakes his head beside him. “Pete was pretty fit, but he’s pretty much as straight as they come.”

He waits a beat and then adds, “Decent kisser though.”

How about me? Am I decent too? Aaron wants to ask. But he just chuckles in amusement, enjoying this behind the scenes glimpse into one of his favourite episodes of television ever.

“But what about you?” Robert asks, turning his attention to Aaron. He finishes the last of his drink and asks, “Did you fancy him?”

His smile is conspiratorial and all kinds of knowing. His eyes are dark but inscrutable. Aaron’s cheeks redden despite himself, as he struggles not to blurt out, No. I fancied you, you idiot.

What he does manage to say, after a long moment of waiting, is, “Well, I wasn’t watching for the plot. Was I?”

It doesn’t feel like lying, because it is completely true. Though he does see the flash of something in Robert’s eyes. It disappears behind a laugh a moment later.

“No, I guess not,” Robert concedes, turning and walking over to the sofa. When he takes his seat, it’s with his legs spread wide, all the focus on his crotch. Aaron struggles to not let his gaze drift downward, keeping it trained on Robert’s face instead. And honestly, it’s worth it.

Robert’s smiling up at Aaron, buzzing with excitement. Aaron smiles back because it’s infectious.

“If you liked The Xavier Files, there’s a film you should check out,” he says, switching on his TV, Aaron no longer the focus of his attention. He pulls up Netflix, slowly searches through it, before he asks, “Have you seen The Cabin in the Woods?”

The way he’s looking at Aaron now is just pulling at all his heartstrings, an element of youth befalling all of Robert’s features. His eyes are sparkling, his smile is crooked, and his excitement is radiating off of him.

Robert Sugden: Horror fan.

“Uh, no, I haven’t,” Aaron says shaking his head to clear it. It wouldn’t do to fall for Robert Sugden again. Not when he’s a full-fledged adult. Not when he could accidentally act on it. (Aaron’s always has a rule against dating fellow co-stars or crew members. But no one’s been openly queer enough to test that — or even simply Robert Sugden.)

“Oh, you’re in for a treat,” Robert says patting the sofa seat beside him. Aaron glances at the screen where the movie is waiting, already cued up, then goes ahead and joins him. “Joss Whedon wrote and directed it.”

Even sitting next to Robert makes his heart rate spike, as does the warmth he feels from his proximity. Robert’s choice to sit in the middle of the sofa and almost spread himself out means he’s just a few fingers far away from Aaron, their hands centimetres apart on the same cushion; the dip caused by Aaron sitting causing Robert’s hand to slide a little closer to him.

He barely manages a nod when he hears Robert talk to him, asking him if he can start the movie. (He would have said yes, but his tongue has ceased to work. Another symptom of sitting next to Robert.)

The film begins and Robert reaches forward and places the remote on the coffee table and suddenly Aaron can focus once more; the thought of Robert accidentally touching him no longer playing on his mind, now free to enjoy the movie.

But as he watches the story of a group of friends — one played by Chris Hemsworth — who decide to spend a weekend in a cabin in the woods, there’s a growing sense of disappointment.

He quickly looks over to Robert’s hands in his lap, and starts to wish they were once again closer.

:::::

He doesn’t have to worry for very much longer, Robert reaching out and grabbing his forearm, when the movie presents its first real scare. Aaron isn’t expecting it, the move causing his heart rate to surge for the monster on screen itself, the feeling of warm, solid fingers clutching him clear even through thick fabric.

As it turns out Robert’s not a very passive watcher, constantly leaning over to make asides or jokes. But mostly it’s all facts he finds fun about the movie. (Aaron agrees. They’re actually quite interesting.)

It’s sweet, Aaron thinks, as he gets more and more invested, both fretting for the imperilled college students and watching Robert.

Gone is the tall and handsome actor who practically grew up in the limelight. In his stead sits a tall, handsome, and surprisingly knowledgeable genre film buff. He’s on the edge of his seat and mostly turned toward Aaron, a bit of a contrasting match to his own seating. (Aaron’s sat back, leaning on the right arm of the sofa, a little too tired to really make himself sit up properly.)

There’s another scare. Robert’s grip tightens. Aaron hides a chuckle at Robert’s expression, the shock of fear stealing the words out of his mouth. He’s left eyes wide, mouth open, and gaping. It’s almost as if this is his first time watching the movie.

Robert doesn’t seem to notice himself holding Aaron’s arm as the movie ticks on, and for his part, Aaron doesn’t alert him.

:::::

He’s enjoying the movie well enough when Robert excitedly tugs at his arm.

“This is my favourite part,” he says, before turning to look at Aaron, eyes crinkling in delight at the edges.

He’s not sure what it is in that moment — the steady warmth of Robert’s grip, the pinks of his cheeks undercutting his freckles, or the reminder of how much he used to want him — but there’s a swell in his chest and Aaron leans forward and steals a kiss from Robert.

His lips feel just like they have every other time, soft, firm, and tender. But unlike all those times they’ve kissed on camera, his co-star isn’t responding.

Panic sets in and Aaron instantly pulls back. He sees that Robert is frozen in surprise; lips barely puckered. Instantly, he realises he got carried away by his feelings, and so backtracks as quickly as possible.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, getting to his feet, Robert’s hand falling away in the process. The loss of warmth immediately starts to smart, Aaron already having gotten used to the feel of it.

“Aaron,” Robert starts, but he just cuts him off.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Aaron swallows roughly unable to look at Robert again, his embarrassment turning his stomach. He feels like he might throw up. “Better go home now. Early call time tomorrow.”

With that, Aaron bolts out of the room and then out the front door all without waiting for another word from Robert.

:::::

He doesn’t sleep a wink that night, just replays the moment in his mind.

Each time it gets worse than before, Robert looking at him in shock bordering on disgust, green-blue eyes flashing. (Aaron knows objectively that Robert didn’t actually sneer at him, but emotionally he might as well have.)

This is what happens when you let your feelings get confused, Aaron chides himself, tossing and turning, his sheets all a tangle. This is why you can’t fall for your co-star.

By the time it’s morning he’s tenser than before. But at least he knows what to say to him.

:::::

He goes to Robert’s trailer before he goes to his own, knocking on the door once and then going right in.

Immediately he’s faced with an eyeful of half-naked Robert in snug boxer-briefs, pacing the space and going over his lines by himself.

Aaron loses his voice, his throat going dry. He just stands there in stunned silence. (He has actually seen Robert without a top on a few times before this, courtesy of a few of his movies. But like with all things, real life is proving better. He’d forgotten just how many freckles he has — and how much he used to want to count them.)

Robert notices him ogling him a few seconds later, and he pauses mid-pace. Just stands there frozen, script page in hand.

“Hi,” Aaron says, for lack of anything better. He smiles nervously, both his hands tucked in his coat pockets, watching Robert quietly.

“Hey,” Robert greets back, sounding almost relieved to see him. He doesn’t look like he’s slept either — probably trying to come up with ways with which to let Aaron down gently. Aaron swallows nervously.

At least you don’t have your cock out again, he wants to joke. But now hardly feels like the time for that.

“About yesterday,” Robert begins, taking a step forward, his tone already sounding apologetic.

Aaron takes that as his cue to take over, and so springs into action.

“It was a mistake,” he says matter-of-factly, having practiced this a few times coming in. “I got carried away. Forgot we’re not Felix and Thomas. Don’t worry it won’t happen again.”

Learned my lesson the hard way.

Robert’s brow is furrowing and he doesn’t seem too pleased. Probably because Aaron is issuing a gentle let down for him. He’d figured this was the easiest way to save face: to acknowledge his crime and issue an apology, save Robert the trouble of having to do any heavy lifting.

“Besides,” Aaron says, trying to lighten the mood, even though it’s absolutely twisting him inside. “Wouldn’t want any rumours ruinin’ ya chances, eh Mr. Bond?”

He offers him a smile, but it feels too watery and shallow. He’s barely able to keep his lips turned upward for long.

Robert’s expression doesn’t soften even a bit, just grows more dark and displeasured. He opens his mouth to say something, but before he can the trailer door swings open.

“Oh excellent,” Harriet states, coming in with a smile, happy to see both of them. “This should save me some time.”

She must sense the tension in the air, the trailer now thick with the smell of it. Her smile fades and she looks between them, then asks, “Everything alright?”

Aaron chances a glance at Robert and finds him looking almost inscrutable. (Though to be fair, his mind hasn’t moved on from the fact that he’s practically naked.)

“Just fine,” Aaron says, with another thin smile, this one a little easier than that first one.

He’s not sure if she believes him, but she does nod anyway, so he finds that to be heartening.

“There’s been a bit of a change in the shooting schedule, seeing as the weather forecast for today is a bit unexpected,” Harriet tells them, looking from Aaron over to Robert. “So we’re going to try and do today’s scenes tomorrow, and tomorrow’s stuff today. You fine with that?”

Aaron thinks real fast, runs through his memory, trying to figure out what tomorrow brings. He realises it a second later, his stomach sinking quickly, filled with dread about how they’re going to do this.

“Yeah, sure,” Robert replies, sounding quite casual, like what’s about to happen isn’t a big deal to him.

Aaron doesn’t know whether to be hurt or happy, so he just files it as a temporary win. He nods his acceptance when Harriet looks at him questioningly, then follows it up with a, “Should be fine.”

“Perfect! I’ll let the rest of the cast know, and I’ll get makeup in here first thing,” Harriet says, smiling in relief. “Why don’t you two work on any blocking you feel you might need? Especially since all of this is short notice.”

She turns and leaves, the door slamming shut behind her. Leaving nothing but aching silence.

When Aaron finally hazards a glance, he sees that Robert’s staring down at his script page, all focused like if he stares hard enough he can change what just happened.

“So do you want to…” Aaron starts, gesturing between them, unsure what else to say. He kicks himself mentally once again, for ruining any progress in the working relationship between them.

Robert sighs, long and deep, then says, “Suppose we can just figure it out when we both get there.”

He only looks at Aaron when he’s done talking, like he can’t bear to look at him.

Aaron nods his agreement. “Cool. Better get going then. Get into today’s ‘costume.’”

It’s meant to be a joke but Robert doesn’t respond. Just nods back at him pensively.

Aaron desperately wants to ask if everything’s alright between them, but he doesn’t want to make the situation any worse than it seems to be already.

“Yeah, great. See you on set,” Robert finally says, turning away, and walking towards the opposite end of his trailer. A non-verbal dismissal.

Aaron exits, then shuts the door, letting out a sigh as he leans back against it.

It was every bit as awkward as he’d expected — only now it’s been ratcheted up to a million. They’re going to need every single bit of their acting skills if they’re going to sell what’s about to happen. Because Aaron’s not sure how else he and Robert are going to get through the rest of this day, when they’ll both be shooting Thomas and Felix’ first sex scene.

:::::

He stands there, script page in hand and a growing pit in his stomach, as Robert Sugden walks up to him with a grin.

“What you waiting for? Get your kit off.”

The words hit him before the tone does, Robert’s voice sounding teasing but brittle. Aaron’s eyes shoot up towards him, and he sees that the smile on his face is nowhere near his eyes and he’s clearly keeping up pretences.

Right, of course, Aaron tells himself, after getting over the initial surprise of it. We’re all actors here. No point pretending.

It’s silly and it shouldn’t sting as much as it does but Aaron’s still aches at Robert’s reaction. It’s one thing to not be interested in his romantic advances, but it’s another thing to pretend they completely didn’t happen. (He knows it’s hypocritical to feel this way, seeing as he’d actually prayed they could do this last night. But now that he’s living the exact reality he’d hoped for, he knows to be careful what you wish for.)

Still, he smiles right back, feels it hurt to even do so, as he lobs back a response of his own. Both of them standing there in bathrobes.

“Why don’t you get yours off first?”

Robert’s eyes widen, but his smile never falters. Instead, he winks and says, loud enough for anyone standing close by to hear, “Looks like you’ll be getting your wish soon enough.”

Aaron rolls his eyes, but his cheeks are still blushing, Robert having hit upon a wish from his youth.

Thankfully, Robert doesn’t see it, Harriet having arrived on the closed, private set, the number of people limited to just her, the two of them, and a small team of production people.

When she gives them a nod, they both strip out of their robes, both of them left standing naked, except for their actors’ modesty socks hiding their cocks and balls. Aaron does his best to keep his gaze level and facing forward, as he goes and finds his mark. The scene involves Felix making love to Thomas, on the floor of the latter’s barn.

The wooden floorboards are tad bit cool and just a little prickly — stray stalks of hay strewn across them — Aaron discovers as his bare back and arse come to rest against them, the sensation causing his skin to stand on end and his back wanting to arch off of it.

Aaron doesn’t have much time to process it, because now Robert’s crawling into his position, slowly lowering himself across Aaron and coming to rest on both his forearms. Aaron keeps his eyes pointed towards the barn ceiling and the rig of artificial lighting, hoping to make things as less awkward as possible.

He can feel Robert’s breath against his cheek, and the heat of him on his arms and chest as they silently hold these poses for the lighting check; Robert is now laying between Aaron’s spread and bent thighs, his arse exposed for everyone to see — not that he seems to care or even looks embarrassed. Instead, Aaron can feel him looking down at him, pinning him to the ground where he’s laying. Still, he refuses to look back at him, his heart furiously beating, as he refuses to make even a hint of eye contact; his last vestige of privacy.

“This isn’t going to work,” Robert says with a sigh after what feels like a day and an age, and Aaron feels his stomach clench, preparing for Robert to clamber off him, already missing him despite no part of them really touching at the moment. “Not if you don’t look at me.”

That gets Aaron’s attention and he looks up into Robert’s eyes, where he finds nothing but calm and watchful understanding.

“What?” He whispers, not meaning to come off so rude, but he’s nervous about what Robert might say and this is a pre-emptive strike — a test to see if he can handle it.

“About yesterday-” Robert begins, and Aaron immediately protests.

“I thought we were done talking about it.”

“No,” Robert insists, voice firm and kind of steely. “You talked about it. I just listened.”

Aaron swallows and lays there, his heart in his ears, as he wishes himself anywhere but here.

But then without warning, Robert dips down and kisses him, a firm press across his lips before a tongue swipes against the bottom one. Aaron grants him eager entry.

Robert pulls back, a half a moment later, remains naked and panting over Aaron.

“What was that?” Aaron asks, body locked in surprise, though his cock is already having a bit of a reaction. He tries his hardest not to think about it.

“What I wish I’d done last night,” Robert replies, speaking softly, as he shoots Aaron a tentative smile. “What I wish I’d done this morning.”

“You mean…” Aaron trails off, struggling to compute, still feeling like this puzzle is missing a few pieces. Any thoughts about his dick fall by the wayside.

“I like you, Aaron,” Robert says like it’s a well known fact, and not something he just demonstrated with his tongue down Aaron’s throat. “And as you can see, I don’t really care who knows it.”

Aaron glances around and sees that no one’s really paying them much attention, Harriet studying the film monitors in front of her from the director’s seat, the sound guys standing and chatting in the corner.

“Guess that’s a relief,” Aaron finally sighs, when he comes back to look up at Robert’s face. “Seein’ as I like you too.”

It’s like a wave ripples between them because suddenly they’re both touching in millions of tiny ways. Robert’s arms move a little closer, Aaron’s a little wider, both their limbs now settling together. Robert’s planking position lowers, causing him to actually lay across Aaron, their chests just centimetres apart, even as their belly buttons touch, and their cocks, swaddled in their actors’ modesty socks now rest against each other; both steadily hardening. (Aaron smiles as he realises that, flushed with pride that Robert Sugden wants him.)

“So, you going to kiss me back or what?” Robert then asks, smiling down at Aaron, his arms framing either side of his face.

Aaron shakes his head, grinning back cheekily. “Thought we’d save it for the camera.”

:::::

When Harriet yells, “Action,” Robert’s focused and gazing into his eyes. But he doesn’t lunge forward like Aaron expects him to.

Instead, he slowly comes forward, nudges his nose against Aaron’s, before touching their lips together and letting them hover that way for a second, before increasing the pressure, one hand coming to holding the side of Aaron’s face.

Slowly, Aaron’s waiting lips part, as he opens his mouth and lets his tongue curl and slide against Robert’s; allowing him to steal the breath right out of him.

They kiss like that for a couple of minutes, Aaron’s hands sliding up Robert’s back to wrap around the balls of his shoulders, half holding, half gently kneading.

Slowly and gently, Robert starts to rock in place, dragging his thick and hard cock against Aaron’s. He may be simulating sex, but the feelings are all real, as Aaron feels his own shaft throbbing and aching harder.

Robert kisses his way down his jaw, and then his neck and then his chest, Aaron’s back arching unconsciously against him.

Robert comes back up kiss at his lips, the movement of his hips growing faster.

Aaron closes his eyes and pictures his teenage self and all his exploration of sexuality with another boy in his class in the local village pavilion. None of that compares to Felix and Thomas’ first time, none of that compares to this moment with Robert.

Another wave comes over him and he gives himself into it, rolling them over so Robert is now under him; shaggy hair blending with the straw on the wooden floorboards. Aaron takes his lips in his and resumes their kissing.

He continues to grind, increasing the pressure and speed just a little, chasing that spark that shoots through him when their cocks touch through their socks at just the right spot. He can feels his balls tighten and Robert groan into his mouth, the sound of it soaked with wanting. His own cock feels swollen, now more than thick and leaking, the leaking come making the fabric stick to him and his erect shaft more than sensitive.

Aaron can see his climax rising on the horizon, can feel it gathering at the base of his spine, the pressure building to a tall cresting wave, threatening to crash down over him. Under him, Robert continues softly groaning, loose hands scoring up and down Aaron’s back; the movements causing a little thrill of pleasure.

Then just when his orgasm starts to move towards his peak, pushed onward by the friction between their penises, he hears a sound that causes him to stop almost instantly, and Robert to whine under him.

Aaron lays there panting, cock now more than aching, he curses the gods and this particular profession. He brings his forehead to rest against Robert’s. The sweat on both their brows mingling as the chill in the barn begins to set in.

“Alright,” says Harriet from somewhere behind them. Her voice is firm and brooks no questions. So they know better than to protest it. “This was great. But let’s try that again.”

Aaron drops his head into Robert’s neck and groans.

:::::

An hour later he starts to wonder if Harriet is doing this intentionally; guiding them close to the edge with her takes and directions, only to cause them to pull back again, just adding to their rising frustrations.

His only solace is the presence of Robert, who moves from over to under — and even one time, beside — him, as they keep kissing and grinding against each other for the camera; both more sensitive than ever.

“Come back to mine after,” Aaron grunts softly in the middle of one take, too soft for the boom controller to hear him. Robert’s mouth nipping at his shoulder.

“And do what?” Robert whispers, when Aaron rolls them over. It’s clear that he’s a little beyond thinking.

Aaron gets it, biting his tongue as a wave of pleasure sweeps through him.

“What do you think?” He asks, through gritted teeth, as his hips begin simulating trusting. Then he grins slyly as he looks down into Robert’s unfocused eyes.

“Reckon we could run lines or something.”

:::::

They bolt off set before Harriet can even declare it a wrap — or pull either one aside to talk to them — neither of them able to keep the smile off their faces. Aaron tries not to speed, or run a red light, but it’s a struggle with Robert’s right hand on his thigh, slowly inching higher and higher the entire time.

He manages to still his breathing — and his body’s tetchy reaction — as they exit the vehicle and later enter his building. In fact, they make it all the way up and into his flat, without him making even a single move to try and tear Robert’s clothes off.

“Nice place,” Robert says, as Aaron shuts and locks the door behind. Aaron glances around at the classic film posters on his own living room walls and the lived-in state of his sofa; the prime location for all his movie marathons between projects.

“Thought you might want to see it,” Aaron says coming up to stand in front of him, his hands coming to rest on Robert’s lips.

“You were right about that,” Robert says, though his focus is on him. He smiles and adds, “I’m a big fan of Aaron Dingle.”

Aaron smiles back. There’s a flutter in his chest, like a flock of birds flying back after winter. He swallows roughly and gives his answer, his voice coming out rougher as his gaze drops to Rober’s lips, “I’m right about a lot of things. Guess you’re going to have to remind me.”

That’s all it takes because Robert’s lips are on his, with all the urgency of a man drowning.

Aaron grabs at his jacket and starts pushing it off him, as he also walks him to the bedroom.

They stumble a little, the room still a mess from this morning, Robert grabbing Aaron’s biceps so as to not trip backwards over a pair of kicked trainers lying in the middle of the floor.

“You know, a little tidying never hurt anyone,” Robert says coming back in for a kiss.

“Do you want to talk cleaning, or do you want to fuck?” Aaron growls back, still very frustrated from this morning.

Robert stripping him of his hoodie is his answer.

Grinning into the kiss, Aaron tugs Robert’s shirt up and out of his jeans and then makes quick work of the buttons up front — not caring if he loses one. He pushes it off him, and trails kisses down his neck, before pausing to nip once at his collarbone.

Robert inhales sharply, pressing closer into him. So Aaron does it again, just a little bit harder, earning him a groaned, Aaron.

Smiling again, he licks the same area once, then kisses it as if to make it better. Then he turns his attention to Robert’s jeans, his dick already bulging in the front of it.

Robert’s hands are once again moving, pushing Aaron’s own jeans down to pool against his feet. He tries to step out of them, while undoing Robert’s belt buckle, only to feel one of Robert cup his cock through the fabric of his boxers, the pressure firm but gentle.

Aaron lets out a gasp as Robert just chuckles, “Well, hello there Mr. Dingle.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Aaron asks, as he tried to focus on the jeans button in front of him, Robert’s cock already straining against his zipper, as his hand slips from outside Aaron’s boxers into them, drawing out a shuddered gasp as he squeezes his erection.

“Make me,” Robert says with a smug little grin, the words a low purr that goes straight to Aaron’s eardrum.

Aaron takes him up on his offer, kissing him thoroughly, before pushing him back against his mattress.

A thrill runs up his back as he sees a mostly naked Robert Sugden, resting on his elbows and across the unmade purple sheets of his bed. He kneels down at the base of his bed, then reaches up and pulls the hem of Robert’s underwear down. His cock springs out, already wet and leaking, and every bit as long and thick as Aaron had expected.

He runs a hand up it, giving it a test of a stroke, in front of him Robert twitches.

Pleased with the response, Aaron leans forward and hovers over it, feeling Robert’s eyes watching carefully. Then he smiles up at him, before dropping his head down as he sets up about fulfilling a fantasy.

On either side of his head, Robert’s thighs jerking and flexing — just like that first day in the trailer. Only this time it’s Aaron with his mouth on his cock, him being the one to draw the groans out of Robert.

Down between his own legs, his cock is once again aching, having been denied release too many times in one day. Aaron wraps a hand around it, smearing his own pre-come over his head and down around it, his thumb flicking the edge of his frenulum and causing a thrill of excitement. He keeps on steadily stroking.

When he feels Robert nearing the edge — now more than well-versed in his body — Aaron pulls off and hears the expected moan of disappointment. He gives him a kiss as he reaches for the lube, eager to avoid a painful experience.

He slides two fingers in, gently twisting and scissoring, Robert groaning and pushing down into it.

When he feels he’s ready, Aaron slides his now slick dick into Robert and gets a satisfied sigh for his efforts.

He waits a second for Robert to adjust to the discomfort, but all he gets is grunted, “Hurry up and fuck me.”

Doing as he says, Aaron sets up a punishing pace, the front of his thighs smacking against the back of Robert’s in a satisfying rhythm.

It’s not too long before he feels his climax once again approaching, having been at the edge of his fingertips all day. Below him, Robert’s busy stroking himself as he keeps on moaning Aaron’s name, punctuated by a gasp every time Aaron hits that special spot.

His neck is tipped back and his eyes are tight shut, his hand is rapidly pumping, Robert lost to the build of his own orgasm.

With his own edge within sight, Aaron makes a quick decision, he leans down, hips still rolling as he positions himself right beside Robert’s ear, and then whispers, “It was you I liked, not Pete Barton.”

He hears Robert’s strangled cry and his come hit his chest. It’s enough to make him come inside him.

:::::

He wakes up a few hours later to Robert on his phone, just laying next to him naked. The white light from the small iPhone screen illuminates the side profile of his face in a strong but gentle white glow; his features looking like he was sculpted from marble.

There’s a fondness in his eyes and a glow in his cheeks as he lays on his back, biting his bottom lip, staring at the screen intently, probably skimming the news on a gossip news site. (Aaron actually reads a few of them himself, a couple proving quite reliable in terms of casting news and breakdowns.)

“Anything good?” He asks, when he’s drunk his fill — though he’s finding that his thirst for Robert might be bottomless.

Robert doesn’t startle or even really flinch, just looks over at him like he was gently awakened. His smile is radiant — but more so in this light, white teeth flashing in the phone light, which also renders his freckles a little paler.

“Nothing as good as what’s right here,” Robert says, affection coming through loud and clear. He then lifts his right arm above his head, an open invitation.

Aaron accepts it, shuffling in closer, and bringing the covers with him. He snuggles in closer until his head is resting on the ball of Robert’s shoulder as he turns himself sideways on his left side. Robert’s arm comes back down, wrapping around his back and resting on the curve of his arse.

When Aaron turns towards the phone screen he sees instead that it’s a book, Robert’s attention instead captured by some kind of video.

It takes him a second to clock what’s happening on screen, because then he gasps in disbelief.

“Are you watching my episode of Black Mirror?” He shifts to gaze up at him, searching Robert’s face for any detail of an answer.

“Why?” He asks, horrified.

Robert turns from the phone to look down at him, and then says without any embarrassment or shame. “The first time I ever saw this, I knew I had to meet you.”

“You’re joking me,” Aaron barks a laugh. “My character was mental.”

“Yeah,” Robert agrees, his index finger now rubbing a lazy circle into Aaron’s hip, the feel and motion of it deeply soothing. “But you played him with such intensity.”

“Probably just thought I was fit, or something,” Aaron protests, rolling his eyes at Robert. “I spent half the episode naked.”

“Well, obviously there was that,” Robert concedes, but even with his playful tone, Aaron can tell he still means it. That he’d actually been attracted to Aaron’s acting.

“Does this mean you fantasized about me?” Aaron asks cheekily, even though he’s nervous about the answer.

“If I didn’t, I’d be mental,” Robert says with all the confidence in the world, like this is an undisputed fact.

He’d wanted to hear it, but it still makes him blush. Aaron rolls inward towards Robert’s shoulder. Robert’s hand and finger don’t stop their circling.

“Shut up,” he chides him gently.

“It’s true though,” Robert admits, voice quiet in the night, his face growing ever more thoughtful. “It’s why I wanted to do this project. Figure at least this way I’d get a chance to work with you.”

“More like, hoped you’d get a chance to shag me,” Aaron retorts, but there’s nothing in his voice but affectionate lightness.

“Not going to lie and say I didn’t dream about that,” Robert chuckles. “Though I did really hope you might be bisexual as well.”

“Worked out in the end, I suppose,” Aaron says quietly.

Robert hums his agreement. On his phone screen a younger version of Aaron fights against a male co-star.

Time passes, a few more moments go by, then Aaron says, trying not to keep the worry from creeping into his voice too much, “You know, if people find out about us, we might have to come out publicly.”

He doesn’t want to say it, but he feels like he has to, not wanting to cost Robert his career. “You could lose the Bond role.”

“I told you, Aaron, I don’t care who finds out.” It doesn’t sound flippant, and it doesn’t sound thrown away. It sounds sure as can be and confident. “Didn’t exactly take this job to prove I could do my own stunts. Though I think we both did well on that front.”

Robert pinches his hip as if to underscore the point, sending a spark of shock right through him. Aaron startles and arches his back closer, his bare chest now snug into Robert’s side.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Aaron grumbles poking his chest. Under his left ear, Robert shakes with quiet laughter.

“Yes, but an idiot you like,” Robert says when he can finally answer. “And an idiot you had a crush on.”

Aaron rubs his hip sorely. “I can still kick you out of bed, you know.”

“You wouldn’t do that to a poor, defenceless, idiot,” Robert offers in his defence. Aaron just rolls his eyes at it.

“Do you seriously ever shut up?” He questions, not really annoyed.

Robert’s voice is low when he replies, “Like I said. Go ahead and make me.”

Aaron comes up for a kiss.

:::::

They do come out eventually, when doing the rounds to promote the movie, and all their fears are brushed aside as it makes their stock rise even higher. Suddenly they have interviews scheduled with all the top publications, with joint profiles in both The Guardian and Variety. (Aaron asks his mum to go buy extras of both, his idea to have them framed as an eventual moving-in present.)

The movie’s a success as it starts to do the circuit, opening first in limited release and then going wider and wider. It garners great reviews, most of it focusing on Aaron and Robert’s performance, with plenty of mentions of their chemistry. (Robert particularly likes reading those aloud in bed, pulling them up on his phone not long after Aaron awakens.)

Amongst all the furor and the immense fan support, the good news start to trickle in. George Miller wants to meet Aaron to discuss a possible part in Mad Max, while Robert has a meeting about playing Bond after all. As it turns out, times are very definitely changing, and the minds in charge of the franchise have decided they’d quite like to adapt along with it. Neither of them expect anything to actually come of it. But they still joke about Robert wearing that suit and celebrate.

A few months after that, Harriet calls waking them both up, the film — as well as both their performances and her direction — having been nominated for an Oscar. They lay there together, Robert’s phone on speaker on Aaron’s bare chest, his cheek close beside it, neither of them daring to breathe in their shocked silence.

Aaron cracks first, a long and loud laugh, seconds later Robert starts to join him.

“Can you believe it?” Robert asks, lifting his head. The diffused sunlight from the hotel room balcony window backlights him, showing off his bedhead in all its glory.

“Sure I can,” Aaron shrugs easily, taking in the high cheekbones and the freckles dotting them, the unexpected pinkness of Robert’s lips. Then he looks into Robert’s eager eyes, letting the now-alert green and blue wash over him. “Harriet Finch, innit?”

“But you and me, nominated for an Oscar…” Robert quietly marvels. “Do you think we could win?”

Aaron just watches him, memorising this face, already planning their celebration. He brings a hand up, and cups Robert’s cheek, stroking a thumb across a warm cheekbone. Then he leans up, gives him a soft kiss, then lies back, his head hitting the pillow.

Robert’s eyes open slowly, and his smile grows softer; a small one that he reserves for Aaron.

“Reckon we could,” Aaron says, feeling himself return it. “Who doesn’t love a good love story?”

#robron #long post #robron secret santa #robron fanfiction #notforonesecond

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genderfluidfuckernamedfox · 5 years

Text

The Witch is Sealed

Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first fanfic and I’m really nervous about posting this but I hope that some feed back might encourage me to post what I write more often.

Italics means flashback

Namjoon x Reader x OC

fluffy with some angst.

There was once a time, in a universe far different from ours, where the Earth was filled with extraordinary beings who possessed strange and unique abilities. These beings were called elementals or chargers but they were more commonly referred to as witches; they lived alongside the humans in peace. The two would help each other grow in knowledge that was ever expanding and art that shaped the idea of beauty for a millennia. It was a renaissance of dreams and aspirations, a time when humanity pushed the boundaries of the natural law with the help of witches. There were no wars, the very idea was inconceivable to the old generation nor was there famine, it was truly a time when the world was at peace with itself. Unfortunately just as quickly as this everlasting peace had blossomed, it collapsed. One witch was all it took. Her soul was corrupted and turned rotten from the inside out, there was nothing but evil and darkness left in her blackened heart. She used her new found dark powers and previous knowledge of the world to massacre thousands of people, not just ordinary humans either, she didn’t care who was caught in the crossfire of her rage. Entire cities were burned with a single wave of her outstretched hand.

After the dawn had broken the new day, all that was left were the ashes of memories and towns burned to the ground. The evil witch was said to have hung herself as at sunrise, but others have speculated that she still lurks somewhere within the shadows. As a result of her uncontained violence and the utter destruction she released upon the world, a council was called upon to rid the world of witches, the people had turned against each other. The world was abruptly thrown into a dark age, with nothing but slaughter and violence to paint the years. The council consisted of three humans and three witches; together they came to a compromise. The remaining witches would leave the humans domain. The earth they were to live upon was to be hidden from sight. ( a small chunk of land deep within the forest)The new world for witches would be contained and enchanted, so that no human could ever stumble upon it.

After the witches disappeared, over the years they were forgotten, only a select few were allowed to remember. The council and their descendants were sworn to secrecy. Over the last thousand years however, someone betrayed that promise. Only a century ago the humans openly hated the witches and a group of new age witch hunters would even go so far as to burn someone convicted of being a witch at the stake; just like in the dark ages. As a result of this witches were here on banned from ever leaving their separate domain, a spell was cast, an invisible force kept it hidden from human eye. No one would dare step near it in fear of the consequences of crossing the line that divides the two worlds. That was the original deal, stay on your side and no one gets hurt, but you never know what kind of lost soul could be wandering about the lines that separate our realities.

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It had started out as any regular day in the cabin like cottage. Except the normally clean living room was a mess with half burnt candles and the smell of sage was left lingering throughout the house. A slight ache pounded through your temples; most likely a result of last night's bonfire event. You and your two roommates had celebrated you passing your midterms with flying colors. They had surprised you when you came home; the two had greeted you at the door with your favorite cake and a few packs of soul juice. More commonly known as soju for short, the amount you consumed explained the small headache. Namjoon and Al were still passed out somewhere in the house. The three of you occupied the small space in the middle of the forest just two miles away from The School of Powers. You had been training under Namjoon and living together with him and Al for the past six months and honestly things were going great. You all went to the college for chargers and elementals. Al, your older house mate and current best friend, was majoring in spells and enchantments and you happened run into them on the first day of freshman year.

Walking through the crowded halls whilst trying to find out where your next class was, had proven to be beyond difficult. A few people ran past you in the crowded hallway accidentally knocking you over, you braced yourself for the cold hard wood floor to hit your skin. Yet what you felt were a pair of strong arms enveloping your frame and your back prest to a warm chest.

“Are you okay sweetie?” a soft voice asked.

“Y-yeah, sorry I’m just trying to find Enchantments 101,” when you finally turned around to look at the stranger who had saved you from falling, you were met with a rather short boy about 5’3 with the deepest ocean green eyes and jet black hair, his ends dyed a caramel blond and his lips resembled that of a plump rose. He smiled softly as you continued to blatantly stare. He winked at you.

“Well, since I can tell you think I look good like this,” he motioned to his body, “wait til you see my other form.” Confused and now blushing from embarrassment as you had been caught checking him out, you wait to see what happens. Within the blink of an eye you find that a cute girl resembling him is now stood in front of you. Her hair slightly longer and face more rounded, she throws the same wink at you. Her white hoodie seemed longer and was filled out more in the chest area where as the boy you just saw a second ago in the same sweater was definitely flat chested.

“The name’s Al, my special ability is form shifting. So I can go from this,” they then shifted back to their original form that you met them in, “to this.” Voice now much deeper but somehow still sounding the same.

“Wow,” was all you managed to choke out while unable to tear your eyes away from them.

“Enchantments 101 is the room right across the hall by the way.” You finally gathered yourself enough to smile at them and say a quick thanks. They gently grabbed your shoulder before you left. “You never gave me your name,” realization hit you and you suddenly felt very rude.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, how impolite of me, my name’s Y/n. It’s very nice to have met you.” They chuckled at your sudden panic.

“No need to be so formal, it’s quite alright. I’ll see you around sweetie, now get to class.” you nodded and headed off to class, for some reason now feeling more at ease in this new school.

The cabin that you lived in wasn’t big by any means but it has always been super comfy. However since it wasn’t very spacious, whenever someone cooked something on the stove or in the oven, the whole house went up a few degrees. Knowing this, and also knowing that this would definitely make Al uncomfortable because they had to have the house at 75 or below or else. You began to cook some eggs and toast for everyone’s breakfast. There was just something about today, you didn’t know what but you knew that something was going to happen, call it witches intuition. Breakfast seemed like the most pleasant thing that could happen right now. While scrambling the eggs and adding in the cheese you noticed a tall figure emerge from one of the rooms.

“Y/n?” a deep sleep filled voice asked, “What’s for breakfast?” you turned around and smiled at Namjoon already setting down a plate for him and Al.

“Scrambled eggs with cheese and some toast.” he nodded, content with your answer. He was dressed in his regular Ryan pajamas, which consisted of a long sleeve button up shirt and matching shorts. His tired eyes meet yours with a sweet dimpled smile, his line of sight shifts from you to the food as he begins to spread butter and jam on his toast. Meeting Namjoon had been weird at first but you were almost immediately comfortable with him.

In your skill set course, everyone was supposed to show off their abilities to the class on the first day, so far three kids had gone. The first one was a fire starter and he danced around the class with his flames, it was a really beautiful performance and quiet the cool skill by Park Jimin, the applause he received was deafening. The next one could duplicate herself, it was an amazing skill but it also took a lot of her energy away. Since she wasn’t and elemental she couldn’t draw on the forces of nature to supply her magic energy, she had to recharge herself through touch. That’s the problem with having these powers, it’s a give and take relationship. The more you use your power the more it takes out of you. Depending on whether or not you're an elemental or a charger determines where and how much energy you can give or get. She went to her friend for a long hug after almost passing out due to duplicating herself twice. The class waited until she sat down to cheer for her. You thought to yourself that she shouldn’t have pushed to hard and you hoped she’d be okay, but she seemed fine after a few minutes with her friend. Upon closer inspection you could see their name tags the girls name was Lisa and her friend was Jisoo.

The next skill that you saw sent a chill down your spine; slowly turning your blood to ice. He was an energy manipulator, it’s one of the most dangerous skills out there in the magic world; not to mention extremely rare. The way magic works is that certain people have two types of energy forms. Regular non magics have just one, in simpler terms it’s what’s referred to as the soul and magics have two distinct energy forms, their souls and then their magics. It’s what determines if they can get energy from nature or have specific chargers like people or animals and rarely there are types that charge in isolation, it lets the body know how much energy intake it can withstand before it becomes too much for the person. Being able to manipulate that is truly terrifying. The boy seemed so strong and his skill emphasized that feature ten fold. Jungkook was his name and his demonstration wasn’t exactly what you thought it would be. When he spoke it was gentle, he projected his voice enough for the whole class to hear but it was still soft and the way he spoke was kind.

“Unfortunately I’ll need a volunteer from the audience, my skill has no effect on my own energy or body... I promise I won’t hurt you, my skill is very unique and I’ll admit it can be quite dangerous. I’ve taken many precautions in my life to ensure that I don’t hurt someone. For this demonstration of my skills I’ll suppress the volunteers energy, you’ll feel sleepy and like you’ll need a nap. Once your asleep I’ll stop suppressing it so your natural energy can flow again, waking you up.” Immediately seven or eight hands flew up. You heard the class murmuring about how charming and handsome this guy was, you came to the conclusion that they wanted to be held in his arms while he put them to sleep, because that would be romantic somehow. You decided to raise your hand out of pure curiosity, you didn’t trust him but for some reason that made you feel safer about volunteering.

“You, please come to the front of the class and stand next to me.” he pointed at you and motioned for you to stand with him. The teachers assistant stood next to you on the other side of Jungkook.

“You’ll most likely fall or stumble a little so I’ll stand here to catch you.” you nodded as he placed his hands on your arms, barely touching you, glancing at his name tag it read ‘Namjoon’ looking back over at the boy who would temporarily be messing with your energy you gulped feeling your palms begin to sweat. Your nervousness was obvious and Namjoon began to draw soothing circles on your arms in an attempt to calm you. Jungkook noticed this too and looked you directly in your eyes.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. Sleep.” he whispered the last part as his palm was held up to your face. Your eyelids slowly shut and the next thing you know you’re waking up on the floor with Namjoons body beneath yours. Quickly you stood up but stumbled about momentarily unable to find your balance. Namjoon was quick to his feet, and Jungkook placed his hands on your back to keep you from falling. With them now both holding you on either side your senses had come back and you were now fully alert and unharmed. Looking down you noticed that your glasses however were not unharmed you must have fallen on them or something because they were broken into two pieces. Namjoon leaned down to pick them up as Jungkook apologized for the accident. When Namjoon handed you back your glasses they were completely fixed, not a scratch on them.

“How did you do that?” you asked still in shock, he sheepishly smiled.

“That’s my skill, I can bind any object on a molecular level.” you looked up at him with a sparkle in your eyes.

“That’s so cool!” he smiled again, this time brighter and you admired his deep set dimples and the way his eyes were shaped like crescent moons. The teachers spoke up, voice directed at you.

“Well miss Y/n, since you’re unharmed and already up here would you like to go next?” you gave a quick nod before turning to look at the class.

“My skill is levitation.” You got a few ‘ooh’s, and awe’s” from the class. You breathed in deep as you focused on trying to levitate a small object. Pencils are always good for this kind of activity, it started with one, then three, then six pencils were suspended in the air. Eventually everyone’s pencils and pens were floating above their heads, even the teachers cup full of pens were dangling in the classroom. You then began to gently set them back down onto the desks, exhaling as you did so. The class applauded you and Namjoon whispered in your ear.

“Great job Y/n,” as he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. You smiled to yourself, finding this boy to be utterly captivating.

“Oh my god,” you heard Al’s voice as they shuffled into the kitchen area. “It’s so hot! I feel like I’m in Satan's urethra and he has a UTI.” Their hair was a complete mess and they were wearing nothing but baggy shorts that hung loosely off their hips. Thank god they were in male form or else you and Namjoon might have a heart attack. They looked lovingly at Namjoon as a small smile crept up onto their face.

“Your hair’s a mess Joonie,” they ran their fingers through his hair gently fixing it.

“You’re one to talk.” Namjoon rebutted while leaning into Al’s touch, his eyes still halfway closed not completely awake yet.

“If you keep rubbing his hair like that he’ll fall back asleep” you warned. They nodded and moved their hand back to their lap as they sat down.

“Yeah, you’re probably right sweetie.” you felt warmth bloom in your chest at the nickname they had given you on the first day you met. These two were your first friends in college and you felt so much love for them both, just as they did for you.

“Love you should eat. Look at all this food Y/n cooked for us.” love was the first of many nicknames Al gave to Namjoon, he never seemed to mind. The three of you were sat down at the island in the kitchen to finish eating your breakfast. As your mind wandered off, coffee mug in hand and gazing with fondness at the two, you began to reminisce about the first time you saw them both together.

The library is the perfect place to study for exams and get caught up on coursework. As you walk in the giant building you notice chandeliers hung up high on the large roof and what seemed like miles and miles of bookshelves against the walls and a nice common area with couches and bean bags placed all around. You notice two people studying and quizzing each other from afar. As you walked towards the familiar figures, it was Al and Namjoon, smiling to yourself you walked faster to go greet them.

“Hi guys!” you waved frantically like an over excited child. They both looked up and smiled at you

“Sweetie!” Al greeted back and immediately ran up to you to suffocate you in a bone crushing hug. Face now buried in their chest, you were about the same height as them but they wrapped one arm around your head and the other around your back, shoving you into their boobs. You choke out a quiet

“Can’t... Breath.” they let go placing their hands up

“Sorry sweetie, I just got a bit excited,” they shyly smiled and looked down avoiding eye contact, you reassured them it was all right and you both went to go sit next to Namjoon.

“Y/n, it’s so nice to see you again,” he gently patted your back. You had never been one to be a fan of physical affection in particular but something about these two put you at ease. You felt safe with them. You looked down at the table and noticed that there was a scoreboard with their initials on each side of the paper that was split in half. So far Al’s side had 15 marks and Namjoons side only had three.

“What’s this for?” you wondered aloud.

“Ah, this,” Namjoon pointed to the scores, “Is a wager, that Al is currently losing.” they looked up at him and pouted. “ I honestly don’t know why you bet on these every time when you know you can’t beat me.” Still curious as to what exactly was going on you figured you might as well ask.

“So what’s the bet?” Namjoon answered you again.

“If Al beats me on the scoreboard then I owe them 20 bucks, but if I beat Al then they will buy me black bean noodles for dinner.” You nodded still not quite understanding how the game works.

“Sounds fun but Al has more marks on their side, so doesn’t that mean that they are winning?” finally finding their voice Al chimed in

“No, each question that we get wrong is a tally mark on our board so whoever has the highest score loses.” You nodded again

“Ah, I see. So what subject are you studying?”

“Spells.” Al and Namjoon said in unison, the three of you looked at each other and chuckled. You spent the rest of the night studying with them and when it was finally time to go, due to the library’s closing hours, Al packed up their stuff and shifted into their male form

“Come on guys dinners on me.” They winked at both you and Namjoon and you noticed that he tensed up a bit at the sudden change in Al’s form. He bent down next to you as they were almost to the front door.

“I swear I’ll never get used to how fast they can change forms, it shocks me almost every time.” he laughed nervously. You gave him a reassuring smile

“I’m sure you’ll get used to it eventually. Plus it’s a super cool skill to have. I kinda want to talk to them more about it and find out exactly how it works, the same goes for your skill of course, like can you combine any two objects or can you do more than two? you guys are both just so cool.” he smiled down at you a slight blush dusting his cheeks

“Thanks Y/n, that’s really sweet of you to say. Your skill is cool too, is it only small objects or can you lift anything?” you were about to reply when Al shouted at the both of you.

“Hey you guys coming or what? We can’t have a sleepover in the library, it’s getting late.” you and Namjoon both jogged to catch up with Al as they were leaving the building. He leaned over and whispered to you “They’re joking, we actually sneak in here every few weeks for a sleepover.”you laughed to yourself, trying to hide your red cheeks from Al and Namjoon.

A slight drizzle fell from the sky and onto your party of three. Al started laughing and jumping about “Hell yeah!” they exclaimed now taking their shirt off and tying it their waist

“What are you doing!?” you almost yelled, shocked.

“Catch me if you can!” they yelled back running away from you and into the storm. Confused you looked to Namjoon to find some answers, he seemed just as shocked as you.

“What-” you began but were cut off.

“Their an elemental. Specifically they get their energy from storms and rain.” you also being an elemental understood this, however you got your energy from being in the forest, it must be inconvenient for their elemental to be storms because the area that you are in usually has really great weather. you looked in the direction that Al went, they had completely disappeared from sight.

“Do you know where they’re going? And also how the heck are we supposed to catch up with them?” he nodded

“Yeah there’s a Korean restaurant a few streets from here, and we can catch up to them if you get on my back.” your eyes nearly bulged out of your head

“What do you mean!? Wouldn’t that slow us down?” he laughed at your expression

“Calm down, I’m no elemental but luckily my charger is people. So if you get on my back I can carry you while you charge my energy. Sound good?” he asked with cautious eyes probably sensing that you were uncomfortable. You nodded and climbed onto his back, nuzzling your face into his neck you suddenly felt very tired. He was so warm against you and it felt good compared to the cold in the air. He chuckled and whispered “cute” under his breath at your already half asleep form. You closed your eyes for just a minute but when they reopened you were already at the restaurant. Al waving at you both from a booth, they had shifted back to their female form and thankfully put their shirt back on. You all sat down at the booth enjoying your warm meal and talking about your majors and general life goals. It was a beautiful time with friends who you really began to cherish.

An abruptly loud crack of thunder aroused you from your thoughts, at the sound you jumped. Next to you, Al’s entire body perked up and they walked straight out the door.

“Sorry I gotta go guys, I’ll be back before dark. Love you!” they left while grabbing a white tank top off the back of the sofa, refusing to look anywhere but forwards. Their plate still warm on the island between you and Namjoon.

“Oppa, should we be worried about them?” you turned to him voice laced with concern, using the name he had told you to call him upon you two becoming friends, you only used it when you were worried or tired though and today you were both. He stuck his hand out to ruffle your hair.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine baby.” he smiled kindly at you as you blushed at the nickname.

“Let me get the dishes,” he stood up cleaning off the counter and washing the dishes as promised. You plopped down onto the couch ready to watch some netflix

“Hey, do you wanna watch Mulan?” he shuffled over to the living room to look at the screen.

“Sure,” he said before sitting down beside you. You looked over at him after pressing play.

“Do you wanna cuddle?” he raised an eyebrow at you.

“You will most definitely fall asleep if we do, you know I take energy from people.” you nodded.

“I know but I’m already sleepy and kinda worried about Al. I’d rather sleep than worry.” he then brought you into his arms, head resting on his chest as you listened to his heart beat.

“Okay” he spoke gently, “I’m sure they’ll be fine.” he reassured you while running his fingers through your hair. It wasn’t uncommon for you and Al to cuddle with him, he did gather energy from touching and sensing others. It was also just nice for the three of you to cuddle sometimes. Slowly you drifted off into a deep sleep, what had started out as a weird dream filled with giant school books soon turned into a nightmare when you were crushed by the weight of a giant mathematics book. Suddenly you’re back home sitting at your desk that has clusters of notes and crumpled up sketches. The book open in front of you is an old journal that you used to keep ‘hey, I remember this.’ the door burst open almost flying off its hinges.

“Y/n!” a deep familiar voice filled with anger screamed at you. “What the hell is this?” the tall man held up a sheet of paper, it was the first time you had ever documented your skill in levitation, you managed to lift up a small pebble on the playground and throw it two feet in front of you. You were so excited and proud of yourself you wrote it down, along with the next few tries. The man starts advancing towards you, you try to move but your limbs are numb and the only feeling left in your body is paralyzing fear. A sudden pain shot through your scalp, tears burned your eyes as your vision blurred.

“Dad,” you brokenly sobbed out as he sent you flying into a wall.

“No daughter of mine could be a magic, filthy witch.” venom spewed from his lips “Your whore of a mother must have been fucking around with a magic.” Hearing him speak of your deceased mother that way sent rage filled tears streaming down your cheeks. The look in his eyes was that of pure hatred, never had you thought he would act this way toward you. Sure he was strict and never very loving but he never laid a hand on you, not until that day.

You woke up crying into Namjoon's chest, breath short and eyes puffy. He must have dosed off as well because he sleepily grunts upon feeling you shift, gently rubbing his eyes. your body stiffens, not wanting to wake the sweet boy beneath you. He really was a beautiful person, so kind and handsome, you’d hate to make him worry. The way that the dim light hit his face giving him an unearthly glow, your heart could so easily fall in love with him if your brain didn’t know better. You slowly made your way off the couch taking care not to disturb his deep slumber. Weather like this always did this to the two of you. You’d sleep the whole day away if it wasn’t for Al’s loud personality keeping everyone more than awake. They’d always disappear for a while, never longer than three hours though. An overwhelming feeling of worry settled in the pit of your stomach. Realization hit you, they had left this morning and it was now dark outside. You felt like crying again, what could have happened to them? This late at night there’s no way that something bad didn’t happen to them. Your thoughts ran wild, but the more rational part of you dialed their phone number. Unfortunately you heard it ringing from on the island in the kitchen. They had really dropped everything and left this morning. Before you could start panicking the door was thrown open as a flash of lightning brought about another downpour of rain. Al stood in the doorway eyes halfway hidden by their drenched black and caramel locks, pupils blown wide and chest heaving up and down frantically. You noticed a large gash on their right upper arm. Lips parted trying to take in more oxygen as blood trickled down from their busted lip.

“I fucked up.” Was all that they uttered before grabbing you by the hand and dragging you to the bathroom.

“Woah, woah, slow down, what do you mean? Where the hell have you been? I was so worried. Tell me what’s going on,” you demanded. They grabbed your face, gently caressing your cheeks with their thumbs, looking into your eyes.

“I promise I will sweetie, I’ll tell you everything but I need some help with this first okay?” they said getting the first aid kit out of the bathroom cabinet. You nodded taking over for them. “If we have any of that numbing potion we made a while back for shit like this I’d really love some right about now. This hurts. A lot.” you nodded finding the small purple bottle. Placing two drops on the wound causing them to sigh in relief, their shoulders dropping as they began to relax.

“It looks like it needs stitches. We’ve got some healing tape, that should work.” they nodded giving you permission to place the sticky bandage on the gash.

“Thank you, Y/n.” It was odd that they weren’t using the nickname they gave you. Something about it was unsettling and the air in the bathroom was now very tense. You searched for an answer to all your questions in their eyes. You took time to admire the small features about them that you haven't noticed before, like the baby freckles that lined the center of their face and the small hickey shaped birthmark on their neck next to two more prominent freckles, like constellations, they were beautiful. Al looked back at you, as if they were looking into your soul. It felt so intimate yet almost normal, their gaze drifted down to your lips before they quickly moved off to the side, avoiding eye contact. “I need to tell you what happened.” they ran their fingers through their still damp locks.

Suddenly grabbing your hips, placing you in a sitting position on top of the toilet seat. “I like to run around the border.” They stated simply. Your eyes widened in disbelief, sure you knew that Al like to play around and be mischievous a lot but that was something that was strictly forbidden by the council. It was dangerous and they proved that today by coming back home a bloodied mess. What the hell were they thinking? Biting back your anger for their reckless behavior you waited quietly for them to continue. “First of all I know it's dumb and I'm sorry for making you worry but there is something going on here that we don't know about,” their eyes fell upon you once again as they continued. “I think we have a witch hunter problem on our hands.”

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