#she will always be mad about being fucking tossed while he said “so long gay bowser”. ALWAYS

[forthedancingandthethriving]

Leto grins. "Well now, don't I look cute?"

She brushes some hair behind an ear. She looks at the reflection of herself in a waterfall. Her skin was a soft green, covered in shining scales. Her hair was long a wavy, a gradient of light blue to dark. She wore a dark blue dress top, with golden bands at her shoulders. Connected to it were translucent, sparkling green fabrics connected to golden rings on her middle fingers. She wore a split dress bottom, which had the same green fabric in the middle and green shorts and shoes. Her tail sways behind her, and her pale green horn glints in the light. Her frills just under her neck now cover her shoulders, almost like a scarf. Black eyes glinting, she grins.

"Uh, boss?" Lumi walks up, hopping up on the Companion Cube she quickly summons. "What are we doing exactly? Why did you connect all the worlds?"

Leto hums, turning from the waterfall and walking, her shoes clacking. Lumi follows her, the Companion Cube trailing close behind.

"We're going to make a grand little venture." Leto hums, clasping her hands together. "A little.. fighting ring."

"Aren't those illegal?" Lumi's ears lower.

"Not if the front is a club." The Program grins.

Lumi swallows thickly and follows her boss. The two enter into an absolutely massive room, designed almost to be like an arena. Though it was far more modern, with lightning, many areas where programs could get things they want.

Leto smirks. "A place for Viruses and Programs to mingle. Fights will inevitably break."

"How will this help us defeat Ozymandias?" Lumi frowns.

The Program chuckles. "Oh, trust me, I have an idea. I've heard through the waves that there's a little snake of his rooting around."

Lumi thinks, wracking her memory. "Wait, does he have someone working for him?"

"Worse."

A dangerous look comes to the sea serpent's eyes. "He has a little offshoot. Do you remember that white-haired girl you saw during an expedition to SM64?"

Lumi's ears pin back. "Wait, she's an offshoot of him?! How are you so sure?!"

"That white root you managed to snag when she was showing.. him." She growls softly, memories flicking to Antivirus. She loathed him the most, no doubt experienced in fighting beings like her. Her only advantage was that she was invulnerable, but he was still an annoying pest.

Leto exhales. "Maybe if we can draw that offshoot, we can come to some sort of agreement with Ozymandias. Present her to him, have a temporary alliance, and then stab him in the back when he doesn't expect it."

Lumi hesitates before nodding. "Sounds good.."

"Great." Leto grins. "Now, why don't you get to spreading the word? Wave-Mania is officially open."

As Lumi nods and rushes off, Leto hums and drags her hand over a railing overlooking the arena. Codes with the appearance of water all around, getting to making everything look good.

Plus, why can't she have a fun time while waiting for Ozymandias to finally get his head screwed on right and escape? She deserves this.

#program: leto #cats are liquid lumi #fanfiction: my writing! #!posts! #yes. I am going to put Root through it when I have the chance #this also insinuates that Lumi regularly looks at the SM64 universe because Leto rememebers Mario and his bs during watered down dreams #she will always be mad about being fucking tossed while he said “so long gay bowser”. ALWAYS

[kittyspring-creates]

Cant get eddie out of my head so heres some headcanons about the devil boy

*eddies a bottom there i said it, hed let who ever he finds attractive top him

*but hes also a brat and loves punishment games

*we all know he was drooling over steve after the king bit that bat and ashed it to the ground like a cave man

*that was the moment eddie was ok with being attracted to steve the hair harrington

*he didnt have a crush on the guy durring highschool but was becoming infactuated with him while he was on the run from the cops and the town

*he was funny, and stupid and protective, eddie always worried when dustin would talk about steve cause in eddies mind steve was caption of the basketball team and fucked around with alot of girls, the stories he heard painted the man as a sex crazed dick head who ran the school and thought he was better then everyone else

*he didnt know about nancy breaking his heart or the months steve spent worshipping her or about billy and steves bi awakening, not even dustin knew cause steve never told him, only robbin knew of it all. Anyway back to eddie

*Eddie dad was a workaholic so his neighbour always ended up watching him when he was little (ahem totally not an excuse to have an oc)

*eddie loved her, she was excentric and funny, she made everything seem like a fun adventure

*it didnt bother him so mich thay his dad wasnt around cause he always had her, theyed make forts together, act out his favorite scenes in movies and books.

*one day he asked her why she didnt have a husband and rather relictently she told him a story of a woman who didnt fit in, her coding diffrent from everyone else. The beat of her heart set at a diffrent tone. Little eddie told her that was great cause she had taight him to be diffrent so he didnt understand that she thought it wasnt

*his babysitter told him at a young age that she liked girls and swore him to keep it a secret. But he didnt understand why it was bad

*she was the first person he told that he liked boys and even wanted to marry a kod in his class. His babysitter hugged him tight and it scared him. It was the first time he saw her cry. She made him promise not to tell anyone that it was there secret and no one was allowed to know that she liked girls and he liked boys.

*but little eddie was so confused, why was it bad. One day he asked his dad why it was bad that girls like girls and boys like boys

*his dad was furious and lost his mind, tossing the table in a fit of rage as he went on yelling about the gays and how they were poison, eventually he concluded that the babysitter was gay and eddies world was ripped away.

*He didnt see the woman after that, his dad left him home alone instead and the whole town talked about her like she was dead

*he cried over her absents, remebering it as the first time he cried in a long time. Then one night his window was propped open and someone rolled into his rolled, ungracefully

*his baby sitter covered his mouth and turned on the light. She came back and he hugged her but she didnt hug back, he remembered that distinctly. He pleaded his sorrys for telling his dad but she wasnt mad. She told him she needed to get out of the town anyway and that she knew he was just curious. But now she hoped he understood why he should never tell anyone that he likes boys. He understood. She said her goodbye and told him to always stay freaky and wear the title proud. It was the last time he ever saw her

* cut to him being fourteen and getting into argument with his dad as he has since the woman left. It was his fault eddies favorite person wasnt around and he never let his dad forget it. Durring an argument about his grades it morphed into a fight about eddies life style and what that woman turned him into. At this point eddie blurted out that he likes men. Hes into boys and thay he to is gay and its not her fault thats just who he is.

*he was kicked out and dragged what little stuff he had to his uncles. Late at night he knocked on the beatened door and asked to spend the night. He didnt tell his uncle why just that his dad kicked him out for being lazy something the man belived

*this time around eddies secret didnt get out. No one was told. He figured his dad didnt want anyone knowing his own son was a homosexual

*he kept it inside, pretending girls was what he was into and always changing the subject to dnd when ever his friends wanted to talk about woman and the chicks theyd fuck

*it just kept getting worse as highschool went on and his peers started growing and morphing into adults. Puberty hitting his grade like a train

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x steve #steddie

[bestillmyslashyheart]

Malex Week Day 4: Free Day

+1

Michael was on the couch huddled under Alex’s favorite fleece blanket when Alex walked in the door. They hadn’t had plans and Alex technically wasn’t expecting to see Michael tonight but he wasn’t upset to find him making himself at home in Alex’s house.

“Hey,” Michael greeted. He turned his face up as Alex walked past to the bedroom and Alex obligingly stopped and kissed him hello.

“Hey,” he greeted warmly. He heard the TV unpause as he changed but he paid it no mind. Michael had a varied taste in movies and TV shows that Alex didn’t always agree with but it never bothered him to sit and watch with him. Especially after a day like the one he’d had. 

No, after today, curling up under a blanket with Michael was exactly what he needed. 

Alex took his prosthetic and uniform off before taking a quick shower and changing into sweats. Michael paused the TV again as he came out of the room and a quick glance at the screen gave Alex no hints as to what he was watching. 

“You want something to eat?” Michael asked just as Alex was dropping onto the couch next to him.

“Mm. Maybe later.” Alex untucked one end of the blanket from around Michael and shuffled so they were pressed together, the blanket over both of them. Michael looked over at him, amusement on his face. This time it was Alex who turned his face up for a kiss and Michael who willingly obliged. “So. What are we watching?” Michael didn’t answer. When Alex looked at him, he saw a flush creeping up the back of his neck. “What is it?”

Instead of saying anything, Michael clicked play. A moment later, Alex’s “is that Reese Witherspoon?” had him pausing it again. Alex turned on him. “Are you watching a romcom?”

Michael squirmed. “Maybe?”

Alex looked at the screen. He didn’t recognize anything else about the movie but he wasn’t exactly an expert in the actress’ filmography. “Huh, okay.” He waved at the remote. “Play on.”

Michael sagged in apparent relief. 

“Wait,” Alex said, with Michael’s finger perched over the button. “You know I don’t care if you like romcoms, right? I’m just surprised.”

“Yeah, I know,” Michael replied. “It’s not usually my thing but it was on so I figured why not.”

Alex nodded. “Good a reason as any. What’s it called?”

“Sweet Home Alabama.”

One.

“Okay, okay, okay!” Rosa yelled. She spread her hands wide across the table. “It is my birthday and I can finally, according to whichever calendar you prefer to use, drink legally. However! We all know that’s a bad idea. So. I am nominating all of you to drink for me.”

“Isn’t that why we’re here?” Michael smirked.

Rosa balled up a wet napkin and threw it at him. “21 shots. Tonight. Figure out how without killing yourselves.”

Alex raised his eyebrows. “That’s a lot, Rosa.”

“I’ll be counting.”

“Rosa,” Liz cautioned. “We love you and we are happy to celebrate with you but I’d really like it if we didn’t end up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning tonight.”

“Well someone should since I can’t.”

“Alright, pod squad, with me,” Isobel decided. “We’re splitting it up. 7 each.”

“Hey no-” Rosa protested.

Isobel stared her down. “You said to figure out how. We’re sharing. Deal.”

“Hmph, fine.”

Liz immediately grabbed Alex and Maria. “We’re sharing!” She looked around and grabbed Kyle’s arm. “Him too.”

Everyone laughed and Maria started divvying up the shots. Rosa watched as they all tossed them back, urging them on when they took too long for her liking. After that, Alex sort of lost the plot a bit. All he knew was that Michael was warm and his arm was comfortably heavy around Alex’s back. 

Michael and Maria got into a friendly argument at one point, something about one of them being an idiot? Alex wasn’t really paying attention, if he was being honest.

Then suddenly Michael said, “Honey, just because I talk slow, doesn’t mean I’m stupid.” 

Alex blinked and looked over at him in surprise. First, because Michael had never called anyone ‘honey’ in his life and now was an odd time to start giving Maria pet names. Second, because the words sounded awfully familiar. 

Maria immediately started protesting the pet name, loudly and repeatedly, but Michael ignored her in favor of turning to Alex with a shit eating grin and a wink. Alex blinked, confused, before it hit him.

He groaned and dropped his head onto Michael’s shoulder. “You’re quoting the damn movie now?”

Michael pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head. “It’s a good movie.”

Alex didn’t disagree but that didn’t mean he was about to start quoting it. As he looked at Michael’s face, he could only hope that this would be the only time it happened.

Two

It wasn’t the only time it happened. Since Rosa’s birthday, Michael had found no less than eight occasions to slip in Sweet Home Alabama references.  It hadn’t even been two weeks yet.

No one else seemed to get any of them, if the strange glances Michael got when he let out one of the more obscure ones was any indication, and Alex wasn’t sure if that made him more annoyed or happy. On the one hand he was absolutely suffering alone here but on the other hand, Michael always gave him a conspiratorial look and a wink after one of his references and Alex might actually punch someone if he had to share that. 

Then again, he might just punch Michael if he didn’t stop.

“Alex Manes!” 

Alex stood up slowly and looked out the small window over the sink. Kyle’s mom, the Sheriff, stood outside, hands on her hips and a completely fed up expression on her face. Michael stood next to her, an all to familiar grin on his face. “He just won’t leave, Sheriff!”

Alex dried his hands on the semi-clean rag Michael kept next to the sink and slowly left the Airstream, stepping carefully on those damn steps he hated. “Sheriff,” he greeted. “What seems to be the problem?”

Sheriff Valenti sighed heavily, like she knew this was a waste of her precious time. “Mr. Guerin here says that you’re trespassing and refusing to leave.”

“...he gave me a key. And he hasn’t asked me to leave.” Alex glared at Michael. Michael grinned back.

“Well,” she sighed. “Guess there’s not much I can do then.” She tipped her hat to Michael with a look that could freeze hell. “Have a good day, gentlemen.”

“Wait!” Michael called. “Isn’t there some law against vandalism?” The Sheriff stopped and half turned back to them with a raised eyebrow. “The lyrics spray painted on the side of the UFO Emporium a couple of years back?”

“For fuck’s sake, Guerin!” Alex yelled. He’d been drunk and maudlin on one of his trips home. So not his fault.

The Sheriff closed her eyes. “Too long ago.” Didn’t stop her from giving Alex an evil eye. Alex shivered, not used to Kyle’s mom not loving him.

“Guerin stole Kyle’s hubcaps after graduation!” He shouted as she tried to walk away again.

Michael cursed when she froze. “Too long ago!” He tried. 

She turned around. “Anything else?”

“Alex dropped the water balloons off the roof of the Crashdown last year! Weren’t there like three car accidents that day?” 

Alex gaped. He’d been channeling his inner Peyton Sawyer that day and Michael was not allowed to use it against him. 

“Boys,” the Sheriff pinched her nose. 

“Is there still a warrant out for whoever stole the Sheriff’s truck about ten years ago? Took it for a joyride and brought it back missing both mirrors and a dented wheel well?”

Michael froze. “Oh please. Like I could tip a cow by myself.” He only smirked when Alex stared at him as the full realization of what was happening hit him. “Or steal the Sheriff’s, aka my godfather’s, keys from his desk.”

The Sheriff sighed and pulled out her cuffs.

Later, when they were sitting next to each other in the one cell of the station, Max looking in at them with his disappointed face while Jenna took pictures, Alex muttered, “really?”

“Worth it,” Michael smiled.

Three

Alex was not expecting to walk into the Wild Pony and find his brother standing at the bar. He hadn’t even known he was in Roswell. “Greg?”

Greg turned around. “Alex! Hey!”

Alex stared at him. Or rather, at the small child strapped to his chest. “You have a baby. In a bar.” He immediately closed his eyes when he realized what he’d said.

Michael whooped and kissed him soundly. “I love you.”

Four

“Ugh,” Isobel groaned loudly when the hot woman walked away from her. She turned to Michael and Alex. “Am I doing it wrong?” She shook her head. “No, of course not. Something’s wrong with her.”

“Yes,” Alex nodded sagely. “Clearly the problem is her.”

Isobel glared at him. “I am choosing to ignore your sarcasm.”

“Choose away,” Alex smirked. “Why are you trying to pick up women anyway?”

Isobel slid into the booth opposite them. “Have you heard of a little thing called same-sex sexual attraction? It’s when women want to have sex with other women.”

Michael snorted into his drink. Alex only rolled his eyes. “Yes, thank you Isobel for that enlightenment. I only meant, why are you trying to pick up women here?” Isobel glanced around the familiar walls of the Wild Pony.

“You think I can’t pick up a woman here?” She scoffed. “Watch me.”

And they did. Michael and Alex sat back and watched as Isobel crashed and burned three straight times. Every time, the woman walked back to her very male date, though Alex did note that two of them continued to shoot curious glances Isobel’s way. 

Isobel slunk back to their table and sat down with a heavy sigh. “I’m not doing it wrong,” she defended immediately.

“Oh, why don’t you go to a gay bar?” Alex and Michael exchanged a look when they spoke in unison. 

“Alex…” Michael said, wonder in his voice. 

Alex rolled his eyes. “Whatever. We’re not talking about it.” Michael laughed and kissed him firmly.

“Ugh, you two are so weird.”

Five

“So. Alex.” Liz and Rosa turned eerily identical looks on him that made him take an actual step back.

“What?” He asked warily.

They exchanged a look. “When are you gonna put a ring on it?” Rosa nodded to where Michael was fixing Isobel’s car. He’d lost his shirt at some point but Alex wasn’t mad about it.

“It’s only been a few months,” Alex replied. Really, it was a month shy of a year. Or, twelve years depending on how you looked at it, he supposed.

Maria scoffed. “So? We all know it’s gonna happen. Just a matter of when.”

“She’s not wrong,” Kyle added.

Alex gave him his best betrayed look. “You too?”

Kyle shrugged, unrepentant. “Just saying.”

Alex looked at his friends' faces and sighed. He drained the last of his beer and stood up, fishing the box out of his pocket as he did. 

“Oh my god!” Rosa whisper yelled. “Are you serious?”

Alex grinned and shrugged. “Might as well, right?” He turned around. “Guerin!”

Michael looked over. He was a mess, sweat dripping off of him and matting his hair together, oil streaks on his face and chest. Alex looked at him and his heart nearly burst out of his chest. “Yeah?”

There were some frantic noises from behind him followed by equally frantic shushing. Michael looked at their friends in confusion but quickly shifted his gaze back to Alex when he stepped closer. 

Carefully, Alex crouched down. He couldn’t get all the way down to one knee but he could get close enough. Michael stared at him wide-eyed as he held out the box. “Marry me?” He opened the box to show the ring.

Michael stared at it then at him then again at the ring. He reached out and took it from Alex, one hand helping him stand up. “Michael?” Alex asked, when Michael didn’t say anything.

Michael looked at him, a familiar look in his eyes. “Why would you want to be married to me for, anyhow?”

There was a strangled gasp from behind him but Alex ignored it. Part of him wanted to roll his eyes at Michael’s ridiculousness but more of him was just plain fond so he smiled and said his line. “So I can kiss you anytime I want.”

Michael beamed and kissed him.

“You fucking nerds!” Isobel yelled. “Fucking Sweet Home Alabama quotes in your proposal. I don’t even know you anymore Michael.”

Bonus 

Michael closed his eyes and gently nuzzled Alex's hair. He was half asleep, tired from their busy day and the night's activities, and he was pretty sure Alex was actually asleep, but the thought that had been niggling at him all day would not go away.

"Alex?"

Alex hmm'd sleepily but otherwise didn't react. Michael poked him in the hip. 

"What?" Alex cracked open one eye to glare at him. The effect was utterly ruined by the pure fondness in the look. 

"Did you know," Michael started off, trying vainly to hold the grin back. "I gave my heart away a long time ago." Alex groaned loudly and buried his face in Michael's chest. He didn't let it deter him for a moment. "My whole heart. And I never really got it back."

Alex glowered privately for a moment before rolling off of Michael with a heavy sigh. With his head on the pillow next to him, Alex turned to look at him. "Good," he said. "I'm keeping it."

"You better." Michael rolled over and braced his hands on either side of Alex's shoulders, hovering just slightly over him before Alex grabbed his hips and pulled him down. "Because you're the first boy I ever kissed, Alex. And I want you to be the last."

"I will be," Alex promised. He cupped Michael's face in his left hand, the feeling of Alex's ring on his skin causing his eyes to fall closed, and pulled him down into a kiss. 

#malex fic #malexweek20 #malex20 #rnm #my fic #self indulgence at its finest

[caslikescoffeeandfreckles]

Stealing is a Good Habit

#spnstayhome Monday 3: thief @pray4jensen @bend-me-shape-me @helianthus21 Read on Ao3

Elementary

The first time Dean steals from Cas, they’re five years old and blowing off steam on the playground before nap time. Cas is playing with his action figures near the swings, lost in a world of talking puppies and grand adventures. 

He’s distracted for only a moment when a little boy falls off the swing and everyone holds their breath to gauge his reaction. Luckily, he just brushes himself off and jumps back on the swing. No teacher intervention needed.

Cas goes back to his toys only to notice that one is missing. 

Instant panic floods his body and he feels sick, his heart beating, as he gazes wildly around the swing area. He knows he had his toy. It was just here a second ago!

And that’s when he spots it - just a tiny flash of orange clutched in the hand of another kindergartner. It’s not a lot to go on but Cas just knows deep down that’s his toy!

He’s up before he can even think, dashing to the other side of the swings where the boy sits. He’s moving the toy through the blades of grass like it’s on some amazing jungle adventure, whispering nonsensical dialogue to himself, but Cas doesn’t care.

“Hey, that’s mine!”

The boy looks up at Cas’s shout, big green eyes round with fear. “W-what?”

“That’s my toy!” Cas shouts, pointing at the figurine still in the other boy’s hand. “You stole my toy! My big brother says stealing make you a thief!”

“I’m not a thief!” the other boy shouts back, looking less scared now and more angry. “I found it!”

“No, you stole it!”

Unlike the kid falling off the swing, this argument does require teacher intervention. Cas and the other boy are taken off to the side where they continue screaming at each other until Ms. Summers is finally able to get them to take a breath and explain themselves. 

“I’m sorry,” the boy who Cas has learned is named Dean says, in a very soft and quiet voice. “I’m sorry for being a thief.”

Big, fat tears well in his green eyes and Cas can’t find it in himself to be mad anymore. “Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, the way his mommy speaks to him when he gets upset. “Don’t be sad. I’m sorry for yelling.”

Dean had relinquished the toy a while ago but now Cas offers it to him, smiling brightly and moving closer. “We can share if you want?”

Dean doesn’t seem to believe him at first but when Cas tilts his head and keeps smiling, Dean starts to smile too, all crooked teeth and crinkled eyes. “Okay!”

Middle School

Cas is sitting alone at his unofficial lunch table. His tray sits in front of him, mostly untouched, as he chooses to immerse himself in the library book he brought with him. He knows most people find him weird for liking to read, especially when he could be eating or talking to friends, but Cas had never minded. He prefers stories to the company of others. Well, except for one person.

Another tray claps down across from him and Cas waits until he finishes the paragraph he’s on to lower the book and greet his best friend.

“New book?” Dean asks casually before shoveling a handful of fries into his mouth.

Cas hums and flips it so Dean can see the title. “I got it from the library yesterday. It’s about a boy who rides dragons.”

Dean’s eyes sparkle. “Oh, dragons? I’ll have to check it out after you!” Dean has always been a sucker for tales of fantasy and anything with a dragon is a literary masterpiece to him. 

Cas smiles. “I’ll make sure to hide it for you.”

They both grin, remembering the last time they got chewed out by the librarian for deliberately putting books in the wrong spot so no one else could find them. 

“You going to the game Friday?” Dean asks as he continues to eat. 

The mention of it makes Cas wrinkle his nose. He’s never been a fan of sports and has nothing but bitter memories of his older brothers’ hectic schedules and stinky laundry and late nights spent shivering on cold metal bleachers while people kick, throw, and hit balls in every such direction. 

It was not what Cas would consider the ideal way to spend a Friday night. 

But then Dean had joined the soccer team. At first, Dean hadn’t been happy about it either, knowing his mom was making him do it as a way to blow off some of that 12-year-old energy. But over time, Dean has come to actually enjoy the sport and his teammates, likes the competition, the motivation it gives him to keep working and building his skills. 

And Cas likes anything that makes Dean happy.

“I’ll be there,” Cas says at last, not trying to hide his put upon sigh. “But will it take forever like the last one.”

“Depends on how good the other team is,” Dean says.

“Then I hope they’re just awful because I would like to get home before it becomes an ice age again.” It was getting too late in the fall for these kinds of games and Cas could only carry so many blankets into the stadium. 

Dean chuckles and reaches over to Cas’s tray to pluck some of his fries. “Told you to join the cheer squad. They always manage to stay warm,” Dean teases, his eyes sparkling, and he tosses the fries into his mouth.

Cas rolls his eyes and whispers, “Thief,” but then smiles. “And I’m not joining the cheer squad. I would look awful in those skirts.”

Dean laughs, head thrown back and eyes watering, and Cas watches, a voice deep in the back of his mind whispering about how he hopes he can always have Dean like this even if he’s too young to understand what that means. 

High School

No one ever talked about how oddly relaxing school dances could be. Cas has always avoided them, always believing they were loud overwhelming affairs, too hot and too crowded. And they certainly are, he notes as he steps into the high school gymnasium transformed into an impressive ballroom for their senior prom. But there’s something about the volume of the music, the darkness, the heat... it’s like being deprived of your senses and so Cas is able to quietly melt into the background, surrounded by people he’s known all his life and yet alone at the same time and he just watches.

He watches friends and couples dance, line up for picture, toast sparkling cider in their plastic glasses like this is the last and greatest night of their lives.

Dean finds him at some point, face covered in sweat and grumpily pulling at his collar.

“I’m so fucking glad I never have to come to another one of these again,” he grumbles before stealing Cas’s water bottle and guzzling half of it.

Cas smirks and eyes the crowd. “I think it’s charming.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Because it’s your first and only high school dance. Trust me, the charm wears off by your second one.”

“But this one is different, isn’t it? It’s just for us. The tired seniors about to embark on the journey of adulthood.”

“I guess so?” Dean shrugs and turns so they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder. “Where’s Meg?”

“Making out with someone somewhere,” Cas says, waving his hand toward the locker rooms. “Said it was one of her last chances to finally get through the sad art kids before they go discover what a personality is.”

Dean throws his head back and laughs. “Carpe fucking diem.”

Cas hums. He knew the risk of being ditched was high when he invited Meg to accompany him to the dance as a friend. Well, really when Meg made him ask her because, as she had reminded him so kindly, just because you can’t find a date with a dick doesn’t mean your gay ass can’t suffer with the rest of us. No one could ever accuse Meg or being unthoughtful.

She didn’t need to know that Cas had had his eye in a date. The perfect date, really. Someone he’s known since he was five. But someone he also couldn’t have because, well...

“Where is Lisa?”

Dean snorts and glances around the gym. “Hopefully somewhere with her friends forgetting who the came with.”

“Do I sense relationship problems?” Cas asks, trying to sound concerned but playful.

“Yes... no,” Dean amends. “I mean...” He runs a hand through his hair, letting it rest on the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I think I just haven’t been feeling it for a while? I actually kinda... wanted to break up.”

“With Lisa?”

Dean nods and Cas can see his shame, feels his own shame for the coil of excitement warming in his chest.

“Why did you come with her?” he makes himself ask.

“Because she asked me to prom before I could end things and I didn’t want to be a dick. But I think I’ve just made myself a bigger dick by leading her on?”

Cas can only hum and nod gravely like he understands. He’s never had to deal with relationships, one of the few reliefs when you’re one of the few gay kids at your school. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to do the right thing,” he assures his friend.

“Even...” Dean starts rubbing his neck, nervous now. “Even if it’s because I think I might... like someone else?”

Well this is interesting news. “Does Dean Winchester have a crush?”

It’s not that Dean’s never had a crush before, but with his looks and personality they never had to wait long before something came of it (i.e. Lisa, Tessa, Anna, even Cassie from sixth grade — that one had stung for reasons Cas had been too young to understand).

Dean glowers at the teasing. “Don’t be a jerk. It’s... I really like them. I think I’ve liked them for a long time.”

“Like a few weeks?” Cas hedges, trying to get a grip on both his and Dean’s emotions. “Months?”

“Um,” Dean looks away, “more like years?”

“Years?” Cas nearly shrieks. “Dean that’s really significant. And you never told me?”

“I didn’t really figure it out until a little while ago. It’s... hard to explain.”

He’s looking at the floor so intently, hands into his pockets now and Cas knows a defeated Dean Winchester when he sees one. Whoever this person is, they’ve done a number on his friend without even realizing it.

“Dean,” Cas says at last. “You know you don’t have to tell me anything, but if you ever want to talk about it, I’m always here for you.”

Dean nods. “Yeah. I know, Cas. Thanks.”

The way Dean says it is as if Cas’s offer is fruitless and it hurts to think that he can’t help his friend.

Dean looks up suddenly, eyes guarded and pensive ans Cas doesn’t look away. Dean is thinking about something, deeply and carefully, weighing his options. Cas knows because he’s seen this look when Dean is playing soccer, trying to figure out the best next five moves. He’s always been a critical thinker, scarily so.

“Cas, I-”

“Dean!”

Cas doesn’t even have to look to know it’s Lisa, could recognize her pleasant tone anywhere. What does surprise him is Dean’s reaction because he practically bristles at his girlfriend’s voice. And he doesn’t look away.

“Dean?” Cas asks carefully, eyes shifting to wear Lisa and her friends stand just outside the throng or dancers, looking at them expectantly. “Lisa is calling for you.”

Dean’s eyes close and when they reopen, gone is heavy burden of his unmade decision. He looks crushed. Lost. And then smiles. “Yeah, I guess I better go.”

“I’ll be here,” Cas calls after him, more than a little confused at the way Dean walks way from like like he’s marching toward his death.

He’s left alone again with nothing to do but ponder the news that Dean has a crush. A pretty big one from the sound of it. He can’t help but wonder who she could-

Wait. Them. Dean has said them, not specially she. Interesting.

Before he can think more of it, Meg crashes into him and he can smell the liquor on her breath before she even speaks.

“I take it sad art boy and his friends managed to sneak something in?” Cas asks.

Meg just grins. “We all have our role to play,” Meg says. “And speaking of roles, I’m about to roll out.” She thumbs over her shoulder to the the doors.

“Will you be safe?”

Her snort is not surprising. “Please. I had like one beer. I’ll be fine, Cas.”

Cas doesn’t bother to argue. Meg has always been bullheaded and impulsive but never reckless. “Okay. Call me when you’re home if you remember.”

She stretches out on her tiptoes and smacks a kiss on his cheek. “No promises!” And then she’s gone.

The dance starts to wind down in another half hour, the music slowing and inviting couples to wrap each other close and sway.

Something in Cas’s chest drops as he watches the show of high school love and affection, marvels at how simple it looks but knowing just how complicated and nerve-wracking it truly is.

And how he’ll never have it.

Deciding that’s his cue to leave, Cas finally pushes himself away from the wall and starts for the door.

“Wait, Cas!”

He turns when he hears his name and waits for Dean to catch up with him. He frowns when he sees the near panic in his friend’s eyes.

“Dean? What’s wrong?”

“Are you leaving?” Dean asks instead.

“Yes? Figured I’ve experienced about all I can at a dance by myself. Are... you leaving?”

“No- I mean- I wanted to uh...” he trails off, hand rubbing his neck again.

“Dean?” Cas asks again, carefully.

Dean’s shoulders shoot back and he sucks in a deep breath before looking Cas in the eye and asking, “Cas, do you want to dance with me?@

It takes Cas a moment to decipher the words and even once he knows what Dean said he’s still not sure what Dean meant.

“I... what?”

“Dance,” Dean repeats, face falling. “I understand if you don’t want to but I- I wanted to ask.” He starts to back away. “I’m sorry, I’ll just-”

“Dean,” Cas says, just barely catching his friend before he can escape. Dean is terrifyingly still in his grasp and when he looks back at Cas with fear and apprehension, pieces start to fall into place. Cas smiles. “I would love to dance with you.”

They stay near the outside, not really interested in sharing this moment with their classmates. It’s awkward at first, neither sure where to put their hands until Cas finally decides to wrap around Dean’s shoulders and Dean’s arms naturally fall around Cas’s waist.

They sway slowly, not attempting any turns or fancy steps, it’s enough to just hold each other.

“I know this isn’t the time to ask...” Cas starts slowly and hates himself for asking at all, but it will drive him insane if he doesn’t. “But where is Lisa?”

Dean blushes something furious. “She went home with her friends.”

“Oh.” Cas nods. “Is you two... okay?”

“We broke up,” Dean confesses. “I told her I might... be interested in someone else. That there’s always been someone else.”

Cas’s breath hitches and he looks down at his toes where Dean’s word have warmed his entire body. He feels like he’s tingling all over, body alight with excitement and longing and every feeling he’s ever kept repressed and secret.

“Hey, Cas?”

Cas looks up and before he can blink there are lips on his, so soft and Cas’s enter body temples under it, under the weight of his first kiss with the first boy he’s ever loved.

He thinks even saints don’t get moment’s this perfect.

When the kiss ends, they’re both blushing.

“I-I- I’m sorry,” Dean sputters. “I should have- shouldn’t have asked before...”

Cas feels a little drunk, his body looser than before and leaning closer, until their lips just barely brush again and he whispers with all his affection, “Thief.”

Dean huffs a laugh. “Bad habit.”

Cas pushes his lips closer, taking a kiss for himself. “Never stop.”

College: cas steals dean’s sweater

The alarm clock is utterly unpleasant and Cas feels no remorse slapping it into snooze mode multiple times. Until he sees the wrong number in the hour position and has to scramble up. He starts throwing on clothes before running to the bathroom to brush his teeth and throw some water in his face.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Dean greets from the kitchen as Cas barrels out of the bedroom.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Cas snaps, struggling to slide his shoes on.

Dean arches an unimpressed brow. “Because I would like to live to see the grand old age of 22.”

Cas just rolls his eyes and starts looking for his backpack. At a whistle, he turns to Dean who is holding it along with a thermos and some toast in a napkin. “There’s a granola bar and an apple in your bag too.”

Cas is not unused to Dean’s we’re gestures but he still finds himself tearing up as he slows down for the first time since his feet hit the ground and approaches his boyfriend.

“What would I do without you?” he asks, burying his face in Dean’s neck.

“Probably starve,” Dean says lightly. “Other than that though, you’d be fine.”

“No,” Cas argues. “Not even a little.”

He shifts so he can kiss Dean, short and sweet but just as loving as their first and hundreth.

Dean’s hands have fallen to his hips he he looks down with a dopey smile, eyes lighting up. “Is that my sweater?”

Cas looks down and recognizes Dean’s high school soccer hoodie. “Oh. I hadn’t realized.”

“Now whose the thief?” Dean teases.

Cas rolls his eyes and steals another kiss for good measure before accepting Dean’s offerings. “I’ll see you later. Thank you!”

“Love you,” Dean calls after him.

“Loved you first,” Cas returns, smiling and dashing out the door.

#spnstayathome #monday 3: thief #destiel #deancas #drabble #fic #au #friends to lovers #first kiss #childhood friends #fluff

[illdesigns]

Kloktober Day 9

crossover or fave au

my favorite au featuring the most coveted ship - magnus/therapy

rated m, warnings for brief talks of canon typical violence, self harm

The office had a smell. That was the worst part. Not the pastel walls or the various ceramic kittens and cherubs or the pale yellow sofa that sagged as Magnus sat in it. It had an absolute perfume smell to it, like he had his face buried in a field of flowers at all times.

Well, it wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was a special kind of torture that most people were not privy to - the sound of mechanical fingers clicking a pen.

“You gotta talk for this to do anything, you know,” Magnus’ eye tracked the man behind the desk as he wheeled back and forth in his office chair. “C’mon, big guy. I know you got a lot going on in that head of yours. What’re you thinking about?”

“Leaving,” Magnus replied briskly. “So I can have a beer and pretend this didn’t happen.”

“You use alcohol like that a lot?” Twinkletits asked curiously, pausing his rolling but not the pen clicking. “To cope with things? You a heavy drinker?”

“No,” he snapped. (Translation: Yes.)

“When you drink, how many drinks do you have? Just one or two, five or more?” he wasn’t subtle in what he was asking. Which is why Magnus hated therapists. He had tried it, once or twice, even before everything in his life really went to shit. When he was just depressed about being in his early twenties because being in your early twenties fucking sucks. And there had been one afterwards but, well, she just didn’t work out either. Dropped him after the whole stabbing story. “Talk with me, Magnus. You’ve got a friend worried about you, you know.”

“I don’t have friends,” it was out of his mouth faster than he intended and he winced. Whatever. If that got back to Toki somehow, Magnus could sue right? Patient confidentiality, HIPAA or whatever? Twinkletits wrote something on the pad in his hand. “What are you writing?”

“Don’t worry about me. My job is to take notes about this stuff for future reference, you just talk. Why don’t you think you have friends? Toki cares about you a lot. He set this up for you, asked you to come down and see me. That’s a friend, right?” Twinkletits offered.

“Yeah,” Magnus spoke with a hint of guilt, looking at his hands. (Translation: Yeah, actually.)

He felt the urge to sneeze, covering his face with the crook of his elbow, rubbing his nose and sniffling. That fucking smell was still covering every surface of his nostrils and it was starting to give him a headache.

“What’s that smell?” he asked.

“Bless you. Lavender. Keeps people calm,” Twinkletits beamed at him. It was funny, because he felt the urge to bash his head into a wall the more he had to inhale it. Not very calming. “And speaking of calm…Toki told me some interesting stuff about you.”

No. No, no, no. Magnus looked up at him again and his eyebrows knit together in suspicion.

“Like?” he asked, knowing the answer.

“So, do you wanna tell me about what happened back in…” he checked his notes. “1999? Ol’ Nate mentioned it too. Feels like it’s important to bring up.”

“Oh, he tell you he did this?” Magnus gestured to his dead eye.

“He told me he did that after you, uh, you stabbed him. But yes, he did,” Twinkletits wrote another little note. Magnus could only imagine what the little dossier Dethklok has on him now will look like. But it’s easier to imagine Offdensen smirking as he reads it, easier to imagine a list of reasons why Toki shouldn’t hang around him laid out in front of him, easier to imagine all of his plans unraveling because he went along with this.

“He, uh…” Magnus paused. Even if he was going to lie about what happened (not that he would be believed by a guy on their payroll anyway) he wasn’t sure...what had happened. It was always a blur when he tried to remember the details - his thought process, why it happened. It was like he blinked and opened his eyes to Nathan beating the shit out of him. “Not much to say if he told you.”

“What about from your point of view?” he prodded, steepling his skinny robot fingers. Why did their therapist have robot arms, anyway? Magnus found that more interesting.

“I dunno, man. It just happened!” he was defensive already, arms crossed over his chest, leg crossed. Shut off. “Things just happen, you know? Like before then I’d have problems with getting mad really easy. People would like, call me stupid and I’d blow up on them or something bad would happen and I’d get depressed and cry it out then take it out on people. And they started to hate me for it, and I started getting worse than that. I see you writing, dude, what are you writing?”

“Just writing what you’re saying. Helps me keep track, okay? Nothing bad,” Twinkletits waved him on. “Go on.”

“I...well, I dunno. It just got worse. I was mad all the time. Thought about hurting myself a lot. Then I started doing that. Thought about hurting other people a lot after that, and then…” he shrugged his shoulders. “Then I did. And got kicked out and live in a little one room apartment while my old friends have this giant sprawling mansion and shit now, who cares.”

“Do you think about that still?” he picked his head up curiously. “Do you think about hurting yourself or others?”

Magnus paused for a moment and thought. Who didn’t think about hurting themselves? You know, just get so frustrated and filled with nervous energy you had to hit yourself in the head a few times? And there was the time before last that he had hung out with Toki, where Toki had sat and talked and talked and talked for too long and Magnus had imagined grabbing his hair and slamming his face into the table to shut him up.

His mind flashed to a basement in an abandoned building. Silver chains and a silver face, both hungrily waiting for their captive.

“No,” he said softly. “I’ve gotten better with that.”

Twinkletits smiled. Checked his clock.

“You know, I gotta wind this down today but...thank you for opening up! Doesn’t it feel nice?” he stood as Magnus did, breaking the distance quickly. He held out a hand to shake and Magnus found himself taking it. His grip was stronger than he expected but metal couldn’t be limp wristed, could it? “I appreciate you opening up at all. We can continue this next time you stop by to hang out, okay? Toki can fill me in so I can make space for you. Oh, before you go-o-o-o-”

He turned to grab something from his desk. A sticker sheet. Magnus frowned as he watched those mechanical fingers peel one off.

“I’m not in Kindergarten. I don’t need a gold star,” Magnus grunted as he felt Twinkletits’ hand on the lapel of his jacket.

“Oh, this isn’t a gold star, buddy! It’s something better,” he beamed up at him. “It’s a banana sticker. For a job well done! You obviously don’t open up easily and I’m sure all that’s a sore subject, so even the little bit we talked about was probably a big step for you!”

Magnus looked down. Well, it sure was a banana sticker. Okay. Seemed a little too gay for his taste but whatever. He was just going to peel it off and toss it the second he could anyway. Twinkletits gave him a wave when he departed and Magnus was stopped outside of the therapist’s office by all but running into Toki dead on.

“Hows it go?” he asked excitedly, then his eyes found it. “Ohhh, you gots a stickers already?! That’s goods, it took me forevers to get ones! Man I gots to do somethings specials as we hangs out today!”

“What?” Magnus raised his eyebrows in confusion as he spoke, looking down at it. It was just a goddamn sticker.

“It’s a big deals! Means you dids a good jobs. I’m prouds of you, pals!” Toki said, face lighting up and eyes crinkling as he looked at Magnus.

Proud. For a sticker? But, Magnus tried to really think of when the last time someone told him they were proud of him. Whatever. He’d take it. He let out a little grunt as Toki wrapped his arms around him in a crushing hug and that gave him more pause. His arms hung by his side limply, his chest and throat suddenly hurt and Magnus wracked his brains for the last time that someone had given him a hug, either. More than ten years ago probably, five figures huddled in front of a camera to commemorate some successful show or something.

So Magnus kept the sticker. So what? It wasn’t anyone’s business if he did or not. Or if he kept the others that he accumulated over the next few months. Or if he found it easier to keep his hair up in a bun at this point. He’d been growing it for years, he could keep it up now and then. Or if he did a few other things, like wear a shirt now and then, change up his style a little bit. And there was a tiny part of him that found it funny as fuck when Dethklok stared at him with a mix of confusion and horror as Toki drug him into the living room of Mordhaus, proudly talking about his brand new friend.

#metalocalypse #kloktober #mine #magnus hammersmith #yes i skipped a few days my work is horrible my b <3

[thebipolarbisexualnerd]

TK and Carlos in NY, meeting his old friends and crew. They can run into Alex or not up to you. Please and thank you.

I hope this answers your prompt well enough and of course I had to torture TK with his ex.  I love how as a fandom we have all made him a borderline abusive creep for the most part.  Fandom is great.  Hope you enjoy this :)

TK had thought coming to New York would be fun.  It turned out there were more memories he wanted to avoid instead of revisit.  

They were leaving the day after tomorrow and honestly TK would be happy curling up in a hotel all day tomorrow instead of seeing anymore of this city.  There were just so many places that were tainted with bad things.  His high school was where he had found pills in the first place and it had been the place he dealt with his dad getting divorced for the second time.  The firehouse had been great to visit to see his old team, but then it reminded him of Alex which still did funny things to his insides.  They had visited with his mom and that had been alright, but they were practically strangers at this point after so many years.  It was good to see her, but there had always been a reason TK had chosen to stay with his dad despite his crazy hours at the firestation.  His mom meant well but she was overbearing and a little self absorbed.  TK never felt at home around her the way he did with his dad or with Carlos.  

“You look exhausted,” Carlos observed over their table at the back of the bar.  This bar had too many memories, but also some of the best food TK had ever eaten in his life.  He had been craving pizza from this place since they had left for Austin.  He had come here almost every weekend during the fire academy with his friends.  He had even gotten an enthusiastic hug from the owner upon walking in.  Carlos had looked surprised but TK had merely shrugged and chatted amicably.  

“It’s nice being home, but it’s a lot,” TK told him as he finally slowed down devouring his pizza.  “I’m glad you got to meet my mom.  I don’t see her much, but she means well.”

“She was nice,’ Carlos said awkwardly which made TK laugh.  Carlos was nice almost to a fault.   

“She is a total bitch,” TK shook his head while chuckling.  “It’s kind of what I love about her.  She isn’t the most nurturing woman, but she reminds me of home the most.  She was a fun mom to have growing up a lot of the time.  She was the one who joined me jumping in the sprinklers when I was little.  She’d  skate around in our socks on a lazy Saturday morning.  We had some good times before she left.”

“Was it hard when your dad remarried?” Carlos asked curiously.  “Are we not meeting your dad’s second wife?”

“Fuck no,” TK said quickly and definitively.  “I will never talk to Lauren again if I can help it.  That woman nearly destroyed me when I was seventeen.  She’s the bitch that threatened me with conversion therapy when she found out I was gay.  She ended up leaving when my dad told her that absolutely wasn’t an option.  She was mean and abusive and just awful.”

“God, that’s awful,” Carlos said quietly and TK blushed when he realized how vehemently he had answered that question.  His high school years had been complicated and he had hurt a lot of people not least of all himself during those years.  Lauren had been a nightmare back then and TK was happy to never have to see her again.  

“Like I said, being here is complicated.” TK said quietly as he took another large bite of his pizza.  Carlos reached over to squeeze his hand in understanding and they were silent for a few minutes.  TK was just starting to relax when the door opened and the last person he wanted to see came through the door.  Alex was in the doorway with who he figured was Mitchell from spin class.  He was about TK’s height with blonde hair and blue eyes.  It was bad enough that the thought of Alex made his stomach knot up, but seeing him made his entire body freeze.  Alex had turned him into a shell of himself while they had been together and he had been too blindly in love to realize.  Alex had broken him and driven him to OD when he hadn’t touched pills in years.  He loved Carlos, but his heart still screamed for the pain to be felt when Alex was right in front of him.  It was like his heart was totally separate from his head and it was hard to tell his heart it couldn’t love someone anymore.  

“What’s wrong?” Carlos had noticed his change in posture and looked concerned.  “What’s going on?”  

“Alex is here,’ TK said as he closed his eyes tightly and tried to fight the mixture of longing and hurt and anger that was washing over him.  

“Your ex?  In this bar?” Carlos whirled around to look for himself.  

“He’s the one that introduced me to this place,’ TK said numbly as his body still tried to decide how he wanted to react.  Part of him wanted to burst into confused and hurt tears while another part of him longed to march up to Alex and tell him exactly what kind of hell he had been through this year because of him.  “He took me here on our first date.”

“Do you want to go?  I’ll pay our tab and we can go, okay?” Carlos put a hand on his before digging out his wallet and heading to the bar to pay their tab and for their food.  TK sat there and somehow knew Alex was going to come speak to him.  They had always been stupidly drawn to each other.  TK shouldn’t be surprised since he was drawn to everything that would destroy him.  

“TK?” Alex’s voice reached him and TK only wanted Carlos to be here.  He couldn’t be alone with this man, not now.  “Is that really you?”

“Hey Alex,” TK forced himself to open his eyes and those dark eyes looked so damn happy that it made him sick.  Alex didn’t get to look at him like that anymore.  That job was for Carlos and Carlos alone.  

“What happened to you?  I haven’t seen you since…” Alex trailed off, apparently unable to say since he had broken TK into indistinguishable pieces.  

“I moved,” TK said shortly and tried to see around Alex’s tall figure to find his boyfriend.  He really wanted to go back to their hotel now and sleep for a year.  

“You did always like to run away from your problems like a little boy,” Alex sneered at him with a shake of his head.  

“TK,” Carlos appeared at just the right moment and TK stood quickly.  He wanted out of here and he wanted out now.  

“Who is this?” Alex had to ask snidely.  “Did you find yourself another sorry soul to take care of you TK?”

“I’d watch what you say about my boyfriend,” Carlos said in a deep voice that sent shivers down TK’s spine.  

“We need to go,” TK said as he tugged Carlos toward the door.  “We really need to go.”

“You don’t want to have drinks with us?” Alex offered as he gestured to the man he had walked in with.  “First round can be on me.  Mitchell would be...interested to meet you.”

“Like I want to be anywhere near you,” TK spat at him as the anger won for the moment.  

“What?  We can’t be civil Tyler?” Alex knew TK hated to be called that by him and he only ever used it in a derogatory way.  

“It’s okay baby,” Carlos said to him lowly as he took charge and finally got them past Alex and out onto the street.  TK was shaking badly as Carlos got them a cab and gave directions for a hotel.  They collapsed onto the backseat and TK huddled into himself for the short ride to their hotel with his mind racing.  He hated that Alex could still get such a strong reaction to him.  He really hoped Carlos didn’t take his tears the wrong way to mean something they didn’t.  His emotions were tangled up in a mess and crying was the only way he could let them out.  He didn’t want Alex back and he didn’t love him.  He only loved Carlos.  It was just hard seeing someone who had once been your entire world with someone else. 

“I don’t love him,” TK sobbed out the minute the two of them were alone in their room.  He collapsed on the end of their bed and wished his body would just stop reacting so damn much.  

“I know that,” Carlos said quietly and patiently.  His boyfriend came to kneel in front of him with a plastic glass of water the hotel had supplied them with.  “Try to drink some water for me, okay?”

“Don’t be mad,” TK begged softly instead of drinking the water as he wiped at his eyes.

“I’m not mad at all, Tiger,” Carlos told him gently as he took his hand.  “Today has been a lot for you.”

“Seeing him is weird,” TK tried to explain even if it made the tears come faster.  “He controlled my entire world outside of my job.  He forced me to get clean when we got together and everyone thought it was such a good thing.  Then he controlled where we went and who I spoke to.  I let myself fall for him and focused solely on him and being without him was so overwhelming that I OD’ed and thought I couldn’t live without him.   It was so unhealthy what I felt for him, but it’s like my body is conditioned and I just can’t react to him normally when he had the guy he cheated on me with there and expected me to have drinks-”

“Take a breath, okay?” Carlos stayed in front of him and TK felt so incredibly stupid crying like this in front of him.  “I’m not upset with you at all.  You’ve been feeling a lot of things all day and you’re tired and Alex was just one thing too much.”

“Can you hold me?” TK asked shyly, knowing that’s what he needed.  He needed Carlos all around him to protect him and ground him to the here and now so his mind wouldn’t wander to days past.  “I just… I need you.”

“You don’t have to ask, baby,” Carlos told him as he leaned forward to kiss him gently.  The tears were slowing and with every touch TK could feel his body settling down again.  Carlos slowly unbuttoned TK’s shirt before gently taking it off his shoulders and tossing it to an extra chair.  He took both of TK’s hands and pulled him gently to stand.  Gentle hands ran down his body to his belt to undo the buckle before the button and zipper followed.  TK had never had someone undress him so intimately before and the care nearly brought him to tears again.  Carlos undressed him completely and got him under the covers before quickly taking off his own clothes and following suit.  The room was dark, the blankets were warm, and Carlos was completely surrounding him with his warm arms and firm chest.  

“I never thought I would love again,” TK said softly after some quiet minutes had gone by.  He placed a kiss to the underside of Carlos’s jaw.  “I never thought anyone else would ever want me, would ever love me.  You’ve taught me what a relationship is supposed to be.  You’ve taught me what love is Carlos, and I can never thank you enough.”

“What he did to you does not make you unlovable in any way,” Carlos told him with a kiss to his head as his large hands drew slow, soothing circles on his back.  “He manipulated you, controlled you, and hurt you.  None of that was your fault in any way.  You’re safe here with me.”

TK silently snuggled into Carlos’s chest and felt his eyes grow heavy.  Carlos put the TV on low to some game show they could both zone out to.  It had been fun enough to show Carlos his home and all his old stomping grounds, but he knew Austin would always be home for the both of them. 

#tarlos #TK strand #Carlos Reyes #mywriting #hurt/comfort #Alex #ex boyfriend alert #poor tk #hope you guys like this one #fun to write #i love all these prompts #also I have so many thoughts on high school tk #like so many

[ahh-fxck]

Chapter 11 of Warrior’s Blues: What Would I Do Without You?

Folks, I am so excited. I finally get to present to you the next chapter of Warrior’s Blues! This chapter (and the following two) have been a labor of love. @stressedspidergirlsfandomblog​, editor and co-creator of this fic, thank you for all your hard work and insight!! Ok folks, here it is:

Chapter 11: What Would I Do Without You?

Yennefer's visit throws Jaskier for a hard loop. His best friend helps him sort it out. Best Friend Rating of the Geralt Incident? 10/10 top notch Jaskier fuckery. She loves her disaster queer.

CW for drinking, smoking, implied death of an original character, grieving

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged (or untagged!) for future updates of this story!

@astouract​ @smolpoe​ @yes-im-the-violin-girl​ @ladyknight-keladry​

  On the day of Yennefer’s visit, Jaskier arrives at work on a bicycle. He’s late and on a bicycle for the same reason, which is to say, he is drunk and cannot drive his car. He is drunk because he’d been so full of mixed emotions after Yennefer left that he’d sat down to eat the rest of the fruit and whipped cream. Somewhere in there, it had seemed like a brilliant idea to pour half a bottle of bourbon after it. 

It was not. Luckily for him, the person working the bar tonight is Julia.

She is a stocky woman in her mid-forties. She has tawny skin and skeptical hazel eyes, and there’s a kind twist to her lips that she often hides. She has a tuft of cropped blue hair and wears a denim vest with a white t-shirt. Even though she is exasperated when he staggers through the door, she feeds him a sandwich and coffee while she fills him in on the meeting he missed. From there, she lets the crew in for the night. 

Jaskier feels like the whole world is an itchy sweater, even after the sandwich and coffee. It’s like his brain is on fire, and he can’t quite settle into the usual friendly chatter that his job requires. He passes an irritable and lonely night out by the door. By the time it’s time to clock out most of the staff is eager to clear out from underfoot; Jaskier is a great boss, but when his nearly infinite good humor runs out he can be a real asshole.

The only one who doesn’t give a fuck is Julia. She knew from the second she saw him wheeling in the door that it was going to be a late night, so she lets the rest of the staff out before pouring herself a big glass of gin. Then she settles her elbows against the bar, watching Jaskier mop the dancefloor. He is flailing wildly with the mop, clearing the floor with brutal inefficiency. Internally she begins to count down the time until he knocks the bucket over. Sure enough, a moment later he does just that. She nods in satisfaction, pleased that her timing is still on point.

Jaskier throws his head back and lets out a shout of pure frustration as his poorly-contained feelings boil over at last. Julia smirks and grabs a bunch of towels, then ambles over to him and starts tossing them on the floor to soak up the mess. 

As she does so she says nothing, but the look she gives him makes him feel transparent. Jaskier avoids her eyes as he tosses some towels down onto the puddle. 

Julia gives a little harrumph, unimpressed, bending to help him clear the towels away. They right the bucket and clean the floor in silence. When they’re done, she turns to him and gives him a long look. 

“So… What’s eating you?”

Jaskier grumbles and straightens. “Nothing.” He hauls the bucket away, fills it with water, and returns. Without making eye contact he begins to mop again.

Julia hums, crossing her arms. “Yeah, and nothing made you stink like bourbon, too. Cough it up.” She leans against a nearby wall, giving him a skeptical look. He looks at her from under the fringe of hair that has fallen over his face. Something about the wide-eyed, guilty glances that he keeps shooting her makes him look sixteen again. She smirks. “I think you wanna tell me but you’re embarrassed, so how about I start making guesses?”

Going pale, Jaskier groans. “Why are you so hell-bent on pushing my buttons?” The last thing he wants is Julia making guesses about what is bothering him. She has a terrible habit of being accurate and she has a memory like an elephant.

“Because you’re not a dumbass kid anymore and you haven’t shown up drunk in years. You missed an important meeting! What the fuck, Jaskier? Don’t make me call you Julian, I swear to fucking god I’ll break out your birth name.”

“Julia…!” Jaskier protested. “I d-”

“Julian Alfred P-”

“Fine! Stop! Oh my god, you are merciless!” Jaskier cries, but secretly he’s glad that she cares enough to needle him. He stops and holds the mop for a moment, blowing his hair out of his eyes as he gathers his thoughts. Then he starts pushing it across the floor again. “I’m sure you heard about the man who rescued Pride this year.”

“Heh, I feel like I’ve met him. Yarpen won’t shut up. Heard from him recently?” She narrows her eyes at him, sure that she’s about to hear some sort of horny idiot story. 

Jaskier blushes hotly, confirming Julia’s suspicions. “Well, funny thing about that.”

“What did you do now?” Julia asks, smirking. She retreats to the bar and picks up her tumbler of gin, then lights a cigarette. 

“We-e-elll…” Jaskier prevaricates.

Julia gives him a long look, and he folds. 

“Um, so I might have brought him back to my house after Pride.”

Julia barks a short laugh. “Color me not surprised. What’s the problem? Is he why you were wearing that birdy when you came in?”. 

Jaskier’s flush deepens. “I meant to take that off before his wife showed up. After that my day got all sort of… muddled.”

“You mean you got chewed out and then got drunk, right?”

“No! You know what, Julia? She yelled at me when I met her in the hospital, but when she came to my house she was…” He pauses, seeing the bewildered look on Julia’s face. “All right, let me back up and explain. He broke his hand, and I had to take him to the hospital. Two weeks later we go for his followup appointment and his wife is there waiting for him. Tracked him down all the way from fucking England! Got the third degree from her there, but the wildest part is, she showed up at my house the next day to talk. About me dating him.”

Julia laughs again, harder and longer. “What the fuck, Jaskier?”

Despite himself, Jaskier breaks into a rueful grin.“Right? Seriously though Julia. If I talk to you about this it stays strictly between you and me, got it? All of it. He’s in the closet and no one else here needs to know any of this.”

“You got it. No gossip. Your secrets are my secrets.” Julia smiles crookedly, sipping at the last of her gin. She’s been keeping Jaskier’s shit to herself since he was a teen. At first, it was out of a desire to not get involved, but by now she genuinely likes the dingbat. He’s dumb but sweet, and he’s been good to her. “So what’s the deal, kiddo?”

“So what it all boiled down to is that she’s not mad at me for sleeping with him… she’s mad I slept with him so fast. Turns out she’s okay with me seeing him again.”

Julia puts her glass down on the bartop, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Okay, that is a new one on me, I gotta admit. What’s the story there? She into watching or something?”

A surprised laugh escapes Jaskier. “No, thank fucking god, I don’t think I’d survive. This woman… oh Julia, you should have seen her. She’s like, five foot four inches of lightning in a bottle. A total force of nature. I think she could snap me like a twig.” A wry twinkle comes into his eye as Julia’s eyebrow goes up.

Smirking, Julia taps some ash off of her cigarette. “Sounds like a hell of a woman.”

Jaskier snorts, cutting her an amused look. “She is, but I don’t think you’d get very far with her. She’s asexual.”

“Oh? The plot thickens.” Julia grins wolfishly, leaning her chin on her hand. Jaskier had a way of getting up to his neck in crazy situations, and it had become something of a spectator sport for her over the years. 

Flushing with embarrassment, a crooked grin flickers across Jaskier’s face. “Yeah, well.” He turns his glass in a full circle. “So it turns out, they uh… have a kid together. And I want you to understand how terrifying this woman was because there was no way in hell I was going to ask for more details. But. What she told me was this. They got married because of their daughter, but Geralt… her husband, the man I was sleeping with… He’s gay.”

“Oh man, you really have a way of finding them, don't you?" This is top-notch Jaskier fuckery, it really is. She’s glad she’d stayed to get the story out of him, even though she knew it meant that she’d be dragged into his shit sooner rather than later. 

“I really do,” Jaskier agrees with a little groan. 

“What’s her name?” 

“Yennefer.”

“Hm. Nice names. Yennefer and Geralt. So she got mad at you for sleeping with Geralt so fast, and then what?” 

“And then, Julia! She told me that she’d always hoped that he’d find someone special. She looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘maybe someone like you’ and I just lost my mind. Just- Pow!” He makes an exploding gesture out from his head with his hands, then shakes his head and returns to mopping. 

“Wow. That was not the reaction I was expecting.”

“Yeah. Yeah! No kidding! Apparently, he’s always been free to choose his lovers. He’s never wanted to bring one home before, though.”

Julia lets out a low whistle, her eyebrows going up. “So he likes you, likes you. And his wife is… okay with this?”

“I don’t think she likes me very much, Julia, but she gave me the phone number to their hotel room. Says I should have a real talk with him before I think about dating him.” He stalks past her into the kitchen to dump out the dirty mop water.

“Just like that?” Julia laughs, leaning in the doorway.

“Threatened to bury my dead body if I didn’t treat him right, in those exact words,” Jaskier says over his shoulder.

Julia leans against the doorframe, shaking with mirth. “Oh my fucking god, Jaskier.”

“I know!” Jaskier cries, flinging his hands up. “This is absurd, Julia! And you know what’s even more ridiculous? I really think I could fall for him, I really do. He’s just so…” He sighs, tossing the mop and bucket in their corner and washing his hands.

“Yeah, Yarpen wouldn’t shut up about him. Six feet plus, white hair, amber eyes, stacked? Sounds very striking.” Julia drawls, eyebrows arching. 

“No, Julia- Well, I mean, yes, but…” He walks back out to the bar, flopping onto one of the tall stools.

“But what?” She smirks, returning to the bar and tapping out her ash.

“Well, I was gonna say beautiful, but I didn’t mean it like that.” Jaskier puffs, drumming his hands on the bar top, trying to find a way to put it. “Like… ohh, I sound like a fool, but he feels like a warm hearth. I just wanna curl up next to him with a book and a cup of tea and fall asleep because I feel so good around him. Safe. And don’t you go telling me he’s a stranger-” Jaskier breaks off as Julia rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to speak. “I know that! I know, and that’s what makes it so weird, Julia. But like, good weird.”

Julia hums thoughtfully, tipping her head to the side. Jaskier has been getting more self-aware as he ages, and for once, she’s inclined to believe that he remembers this guy’s a stranger. “Have you called your therapist yet?”

“For once in my life, yes. I called her before I came in. Hopefully, she’ll have gotten back to me by the time I get home.”

“Good for you. So this is why you came in here drunk off your ass this morning? This whole mess?” She pours him a shot glass of rum and passes it to him.

He takes it with a nod of thanks. “Yeah… I guess I got a little freaked out after his wife grilled me this morning, didn’t cope with it well.” Taking a sip, he frowns. “Julia, I’m in over my head. I don’t really know what to do here. He’s never had a boyfriend before.” 

Letting out a low whistle between her teeth, Julia stubs out her cigarette. “Ain’t he about my age?” 

“Yeah… He’s… I guess he spent his whole adult life in the military and never let himself have one. That’s what his wife said.” Jaskier worries at his lip, blue eyes wide as he shoots a glance at Julia. His glass scrapes on the bar top. 

Annoyed by the sound, Julia tosses him a coaster. Then she hums thoughtfully, swirling the dregs of gin in her glass. “That’s a long time to be lonely.”

Puffing out a long, slow breath, Jaskier nods. He draws the coaster over and sticks it under his drink with a guilty look. “Yeah.” Slumping to the bar top, he puts his chin on his hands. “She said… if I cheated on him it would crush him. She said… ‘Please don’t make things worse by being irresponsible with his very fragile heart.’” Putting his face into his arms, Jaskier gives a little groan. 

Julia sucks in a breath, watching Jaskier crumple in front of her. He’d at least grasped the concept of fidelity by now, but until recently his romances had never been particularly stable. Her heart goes out to him. She finds herself walking around to the other side of the bar to stand awkwardly by his side, her stocky frame only coming up to his shoulder where he sits on the stool. She awkwardly pats said shoulder, then gives it a squeeze. “That’s gotta feel pretty big to you. How are you doin’ with it?”

“I’m feeling massively intimidated, Julia. He’s gorgeous and I really want to date him, but I’m really afraid I’m going to be bad for him. I don’t exactly have the most amazing track record.”

Julia hums, sucking her teeth thoughtfully. She rubs a gentle circle between Jaskier’s shoulderblades, an unusually affectionate gesture for her. “Kiddo, you know I wouldn’t say this normally, but you’ve put a damn ton of work into your personal relationships. I trust the man you’ve grown into, and I think you should try trusting yourself for once. See how it works out for you. It’s been a long time since you let anyone in.”

Jaskier sighs, leaning into the touch. “I know. I worked so hard, and Rue didn’t even get to see much of my life after the dust settled. I hope she’s proud of me.”

A smile lights Julia’s face, but as she speaks a note of grief creeps into her voice. Her partner Rue had passed two years ago, but the pain was still fresh and hot. Rue had been more than a friend to Jaskier, she’d been his absolute favorite person. He missed her almost as dearly as Julia herself did. 

“She’d be proud of you all ‘round, kiddo. You’ve really shaped up. Hell, you stepped up when I needed you.” She gives Jaskier a little shake. “You might be a dumbass, but it matters that you try to get things right. It matters more that you do your best now to fix it when you don’t. That’s all anyone can do.” Julia’s hand moves back to his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “You’re a good man, and I think she’d tell you that, too.”

Jaskier nods, swallowing hard. As Julia’s hand closes on him he realizes all of a sudden how much he misses Rue. His heart contracts with terrible grief. “Oh!” He gasps, surprised by the abruptness of the pain. Reaching back to squeeze Julia’s hand, he can feel his throat tightening. “I feel really lost right now. She’d know what to do.”

A crack appears in Julia’s heart. She nods and steps closer to Jaskier, reaching around his hip and pulling him close. Jaskier leans into her and she grips him tightly with her strong arm. Her cheek presses against him and she squeezes her eyes shut, nodding. “Me too. I miss her like hell.” As she grips Jaskier, silent tears dampen his cheeks. Before long, Julia’s eyes begin to well over too.

Rue had been the center of both of their lives. Julia had been in love with her since they met one hot summer on Coney Island as teenagers. They had kissed in the rain under one of the piers, and that had been it for her. By the time they’d moved in together as adults, Julia would have gone down on one knee and married her in a heartbeat. 

Every summer they took a long vacation on Fire Island, where Julia would pick up part time work as a bartender. They’d met Jaskier one summer there when he was just sixteen years old. He’d been a disaster of a baby queer, but gregarious little Rue had seen something of herself in him. She had taken him under her wing, and he had thrived.

When Rue was diagnosed with ovarian cancer four years ago, it had been at a quiet time in Julia’s life. Jaskier had gotten a therapist a year before and was finally out of her hair. The bar was thriving. Rue and Julia had settled into their home just the way they’d liked it, tea settees and all. Julia remembers looking at this yellow, gold, and cream-colored doily on their tea table after they got home from Rue’s diagnosis. The little sunburst pattern had seared into her mind as she sat in shock. 

The following two years had been hell on a plate. The bar came closer to folding than it ever had as both Julia and Jaskier bent themselves completely out of shape trying to get Rue the care she needed. In the end, that had meant hospice and a funeral. Jaskier had ended up having to plan it for her, and he’d stepped up to the role with a seriousness that she hadn’t thought him physically capable of. It changed something about his personality. Julia watched him go almost overnight from a happy-go-lucky kid to a closed-off and responsible adult. The only exception had happened shortly after Rue’s death. 

When the fuss from the funeral had died down, Jaskier had disappeared for the better part of two weeks. Scheduled everyone in, made sure payroll was cued to go properly, and just… vanished. He’d come back with a bloody lip and fear in his eyes, and Julia had been too heartsick to ask questions. That night they’d grieved Rue together, sitting next to one another and crying their eyes out. Jaskier had fallen asleep on their dinky little couch, and she’d tucked one of Rue’s crocheted blankets over him before she went to bed. 

Since then Jaskier had been eerily quiet. At least, until Pride. After that his mood had been so pleasant that it was making Julia downright nervous. She’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Now, at last, it had. 

Jaskier takes a few napkins out from under the bar top, passing them to Julia. They wipe their faces in sticky silence, and afterward, Julia pulls out a smoke and hands him one too. The click of her lighter is loud in the silent bar, echoing off the far walls. 

“Can you imagine what she’d say about this mess?” he asks, a soft huff of laughter escaping him as he shakes his head. His wide blue eyes turn up to take in the fairy lights over the bar, the smoke twisting among them.

“Oh! I can just imagine.” Julia chuckles damply, shaking her head. “She always said you found love in the strangest places.” 

Jaskier smiles crookedly. “She’s not wrong.” Smoke drifts from the cigarette between his long fingers, swirling eddies forming as it rises. 

Julia nods, then blows a slow, lazy smoke ring. “She’d say… don’t listen to your heart anymore. Don’t listen to your head. You’ve heard enough from them for now. Go find someplace quiet, where the silence can slip in through the cracks of you and fill you up. Sometimes the answer slips in alongside the silence." 

The damp groan of chagrin that escapes Jaskier makes Julia smile. "That's right,” he replies, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And I would say, I hate silence, it makes me nervous."

Julia nods, amused. "And she would say-" Jaskier's voice joined Julia's and they finished together, "There's your problem right there." 

With a damp chuckle, Jaskier shakes his hair out of his eyes and blinks away the last of his tears. “Oh lord, Julia. I’m glad you’re still here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Suffer.” Julia jokes, knocking back her gin. “Suffer and die, probably.”

“Crash and burn, at the very least.” Jaskier snorts. He knocks back his glass of rum, then rises at last from the bar. He stubs out his cigarette as he rises. Then, with a soft clinking, he gathers all the glasses and takes them back to the sink to wash. A hush falls over the room, broken only by the splash of water against the metal sink.

Julia turns to watch him, leaning her elbows against the counter. Her head tips to the side as she watches Jaskier dry the dishes, then start scrubbing at the already-clean sink. He takes sanitizer and sprays it on a towel, then starts trying to evict the microscopic grit left around the base of the faucet. After a while, she stirs. “You think this guy might be it?” she asks, her eyes soft as she tips her head to look at her friend.

Jaskier looks down at the wet towel dripping in his hands. “I don’t know. I just… he’s different. I feel really different around him. I think I want to try, but I’m trying to just...” He grimaces, tossing the towel into the bin with a little too much force. “Take a minute to look before I leap.”  

Julia breaks into a wry smile, hazel eyes sparkling with gentle humor. “Good for you. Does that mean I’m gonna be staying late a few more nights?” 

“Could you? I could use the company.” Jaskier looks at her out of the corner of his eye, moving on to wipe the counter. 

Julia scoffs, but there’s a playful note in her voice. “Fine, but you gotta cough up those kreteks you've been teasing me with. You owe me.”

“Oh! I actually have those back at my house, thank you for reminding me!" Jaskier exclaims, smacking his forehead. "I can't believe I forgot. I’ll bring them in tomorrow, I got you a whole case. They came in from Indonesia last week and I just spaced out about them what with everything else going on.”

Eyes lighting up, Julia socks Jaskier affectionately on the shoulder. “Hey! My man! That’s what I’m talking about.” 

Jaskier laughs, rubbing his shoulder. “Anytime. It's the least I can do.”

Julia takes one last drag off of her cigarette, then turns to stub it out. “Listen. You want a ride home? It’s late.”

Jaskier wavers, then turns to look at the storeroom where his bike is. It’s a long ride home in the cold and dark, and he’s heartsick as all hell. It’s hard to turn her down. “Got room in your trunk for my bike?”

“Yep. No sweat. I’ll pull the car around front while you shut down.” Julia pats her pockets, making sure that her wallet, keys, and cigarettes are all in place. 

By the time she’s parked in front, Jaskier is locking the door of the bar. They wordlessly wrestle the bike into the back of the car together, working with the ease of practice. In the car, Julia flips on the stereo and pops in a Patti Smith cassette. Patti’s smoky, dry voice floats through the car, twining through the bouncing and jangling guitar riffs of the opening song of the album. Oh, she looks so fine… I’m gonna uh-uh, make her mine… 

They drive home in comfortable silence. Julia pulls up behind Jaskier’s car and parks. She eyes the white truck in the driveway silently, finishing her smoke as she considers it. Jaskier sits beside her, making no move to get out of the car. Finally, she stubs out her smoke and says, “Is that his?”

Jaskier nods. “Engine keeps overheating. He knows what’s wrong with it but I don’t have the tools for him to fix it, so it’s gonna stay there until I can get them for him. Honestly I don’t have the faintest idea what he wants, it all goes in my ear and then out the other. If he’d just let me take him to the store it would be fine but no-”

Putting her hand on the door, Julia eyes Jaskier kindly. “Kiddo, I don’t need every single detail. It’s his truck, I get it. Let’s go in.”

Jaskier puffs as he’s thrown off track. Then he smiles crookedly, face catching in a bar of orange light from the streetlamp outside. “Sorry. You go on in, I’ve got to bring the bike around back.”

Flourishing her keys, Julia nods. She ambles around the front of Jaskier’s house and unlocks his door, letting herself into the dark entryway. Flicking on the lights, she looks around. The place is uncannily clean and stinks of floor wax and furniture oil. Jaskier’s home usually looks a bit rumpled, like a bed that’s been slept in and then had the covers thrown back into place without being smoothed or tucked. Not dirty, precisely, but not clean. Lived in. This, though… she gives a low whistle under her teeth. Her friend had been understating the distress he’d been experiencing. His home didn’t get this tidy unless something really got under his skin.

She kicks her boots off and heads to the kitchen to get a pot of coffee going, then snags a pudding out of the fridge. As she’s digging around for a spoon, she hears the jingle of keys announcing Jaskier’s arrival through the back door. 

He notes the pudding cup in her hand and the very corner of his mouth turns up, but he doesn’t comment. Instead, he slips past her to drop his bag in his bedroom. When he returns to the kitchen he smiles at her, leaning against the fridge.

“Better?” she asks, tearing open the plastic lid.

“Better,” Jaskier agrees, eyes dancing with a teasing light. “Still like the taste of stolen pudding?”

“Tastes better if you swipe it,” Julia grins unrepentantly. She settles on the stool with her pudding. “Gonna cough up those kreteks?”

Jaskier grins. “You’ve got it. Just a minute, darling. I have to figure out where I put them.” He turns on his foot and bounds off to the other end of his house, rummaging around until he remembers where he stuck the package. It turns out it’s still next to the front door in plain view, hidden on a shelf by the other oddities it’s been stuck on top of. Jaskier’s house is unusually clean, but it isn’t that clean. Making a triumphant noise, he grabs it and heads back towards Julia. 

Pleased, Julia opens the case up in a few quick movements and takes out a carton. She flicks it open, smelling it with great satisfaction. The rich smell of clove and tobacco wafts up to her, and she sighs in contentment. “Ah, that’s the good shit. Thanks, man.”

“You’ve got it. I’ll order more tomorrow, you deserve them. Takes them a while to import but we should be seeing them in the next month or so.” 

Julia laughs. “Man, I’m earning them signing up to listen to your shit like this. Go check your message machine, I ain’t subbing in for your therapist.”

Jaskier huffs a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Fine, fine, I’ve got it.” He pours himself a cup of coffee, then ambles over to the message machine and picks up the receiver. He punches in a code and waits, then jots something down on a pad of paper next to it with a brief smile flashing across his face. He turns back to Julia, wiggling the notepad at her. “Got an appointment tomorrow before I go to work. She shoehorned me into her lunch hour.”

“Huh,” Julia grunts, amused. “Better bring that poor woman lunch, she’s a saint for taking you back like that on short notice.”

Jaskier looks chagrined. He settles himself back on a stool with his back to the refrigerator. “Yeah, you're not wrong. Best kind of saint. I thought I’d bring her Thai from that place up on Market street. You know the one with the little golden treasure bag dumpling things?”

“Man, she gets treasure bags? Do I get some?” Julia teases.

“If you come hold my hand tomorrow, you get anything you want.”

“Mm, no dice. I’m doing enough hand-holding as it is. Speaking of which, you could still bring it to me at the bar...” she grins over her mug, eyes sparkling playfully.

Jaskier rolls his eyes and sighs. “Extortionist.” 

“You love me,” she snorts.

“I do,” he breaks out into a smile, leaning against the island top with his elbows. “Thanks for running me home.”

Julia shifts in her seat and sighs, leaning forward onto her elbows and giving Jaskier a frank look. “I got you, it’s no problem. It’s not every day you get blown out of the water by something like this. You gonna be ok?”

Jaskier considers his mug with a thoughtful moue, then nods. “I think I am, Julia. I’m sorry about this morning, it won’t happen again.”

Smirking, Julia shrugs. “Just do better.”

Fluffing the hair on the back of his neck, Jaskier nods. “You got it.” He takes a thoughtful sip of his coffee, then asks, “How are you doing?” His voice is gentle as he asks the question, sensitive to the ongoing nature of her pain.

Julia shifts uneasily, squinting at her mug. “I dunno. I’m making it. Don’t wanna look for a new place yet, but I know it’s gonna be time soon.” She casts a short, hard-to-read look at Jaskier. She appreciates him asking, but she’s also not sure how much she wants to talk.

“When’s the lease up?” Jaskier asks, his eyes soft. 

“Uhm…” Julia cleared her throat. “June.”

“Julia!" Jaskier gasps, exasperated. "That was over a month ago! You didn’t just sign a new one, did you? Why didn’t you talk to me first?” 

“I didn’t wanna talk about it,” Julia growls, scowling.

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “Oh, don’t get all growly with me. You’re miserable there! Rue is all over that place, darling! I can barely turn around twice in there without bumping into something that breaks my heart, I don't know how you go and live there every day."

Julia presses her lips together, tapping her carton of kreteks between her fingers. She shrugs. "I can't imagine being anywhere else. All I have left is there."

Heart breaking a little, Jaskier sighs. He regards Julia kindly. "You can't hold on like that forever." 

Scowling, Julia shrugs. That might be true, but she didn’t have to like it.

Pursing his lips thoughtfully, Jaskier looks her over for a moment. He hesitates, then says, "Why don't you just start looking? There's no harm in at least checking the paper…" he nudges her gently. "Worst that can happen is you don't fall in love with the first place you see. No harm, right?"

Julia shuffles uncomfortably, taking a big gulp of her coffee. She frowns at her cup, then looks out of the corner of her eye at Jaskier. “I can’t afford to break the lease.”

“Nonsense, you’ve got plenty of savings to cover shit like that,” Jaskier replies, still exasperated. “Besides, even if you didn’t, I’d cover you. You know that!”

“I know…” Julia grumbles, “But-”

“So what you mean is, you’re still stuck and you’re not ready to go yet.”

Julia scowls. She wants desperately to argue with him, to lash out and protect herself, but the impulse passes before the words can even form. She shrugs. “Maybe so.” 

Jaskier sighs. “Julia darling, I’m convinced there’s a place in the world for you. Somewhere that will feel good and be just for you. Who knows, maybe you’ll even meet someone soon? Stranger things have happened.”

“Stranger things can eat my ass,” Julia snaps.

Unimpressed, Jaskier shrugs. “Okay.” He pops open his pudding cup and spoons up a mouthful, sucking it off of his spoon thoughtfully. “Mm. Should you ever decide to come out of that suck-ass hedge-maze of grumpiness you’ve built for yourself I’ll be here. I love you, despite all your best efforts to turn into an unmanageable troll.” 

“Oh what, and you’re Prince Charming?” Julia scoffs. “Puh-lease, you little drama queen.” They both eye each other for a moment, wavering, then break out in quiet laughter. Jaskier reaches over and pats her hand, and Julia smiles crookedly. She drains the last of her mug, then sets it down with a final-sounding ‘thunk.’ “All right, mijo. I won’t keep you talking all night. Thanks for the kreteks, I hope you work everything out. Call me if you need me.”

“I will. Same goes for you, darling. My phone is always on for you, and my door is always open. I don’t care what time it is, if you need me you come. Ok?”

Julia eyes him uncertainly, then nods. She had taken him up on the offer before, showing up at odd hours eaten alive by grief and unable to be alone with it anymore. “Ok. See you tomorrow.” She punches his shoulder affectionately, then heads for the door.

“Good night, Julia. Safe drive, I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

~*~

Jaskier puts himself back together during the intervening days. He attends therapy, brings Julia her takeout, and things return to normal at the bar. Sunday morning he rides his bike, but this time he’s sober, more himself. At the end of the night, he pulls Julia to the side as she sighs in exasperation. 

Jaskier gives her a sheepish smile, leaning back against one of the counters. “Sorry, I’m not going to keep you long tonight.”

“Yeah? Good, my fish are starting to worry I’m seeing someone new,” Julia cracks. “What’s up?” Her eyes travel to the closet where the bike is and back to him. “Car ok?”

“What?” He looks over his shoulder in the direction she’s indicating. “Oh! No, it’s fine. I just wanted to take a long ride tonight after work, maybe catch the sunrise out south of my house.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s Geralt. I finally decided to call him. I think I’ve got my head on straight and I still wanna do it.”

Julia sucks her teeth thoughtfully. It’s sweet to see him excited, but she worries about his heart, too. He doesn’t always guard it as carefully as he should. “You sure? From what you’re telling me, it doesn’t sound like you’re lookin’ at a walk in the park. He’s married, he’s got a family halfway across the world, he’s in the closet…”

Jaskier sighs. “I know, Julia. I was there, I remember.” 

Julia arches her eyebrow at him but doesn’t comment. 

Jaskier chews his lip. “I know it’s probably stupid, and I know we could break each other’s hearts, but…” he ruffles his hand through his hair. “I don’t meet men like that every day. Besides. I will definitely regret it if I don’t at least see him one more time.” 

Julia rolls her eyes, but a fond smile creeps across her tawny face. “I’ll give you wanting to see him again one more time, you two really should talk. Just try not to be a dumbass, ok? Go slow. You’ve gotta take care of yourself, you’re not twenty anymore.”

The look on Jaskier’s face softens thoughtfully, and he nods. “I know. I’ll try to be good.”

“Good. Where are you planning on taking him? This doesn’t sound like public conversation material.”

“Well… that’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you. I was thinking maybe the best place would be the bar.”

“What, don’t want to use your house?” Julia asks dryly. 

“Nnnoo, uh…” Jaskier rubs the back of his neck, turning red. 

“I get it.” Julia cuts him off with a quick gesture, smirking.  “You wanna keep it on the up and up. Don’t you have somewhere else you could meet him though?”

“Mmm… I mean, there are some parks I could take him to, but that feels weird for a private conversation, you know?” Julia nods. Jaskier continues, “He’s staying with his wife at the hotel, and I feel like it would be rude to ask him to kick her out so we can talk. Most of my friends have these teeny apartments so I can’t exactly borrow space from them. The bar seemed like the best place.”

Julia hums, then nods. “I get it. Not like I have a porch I could offer you or anything.”

“Yeah. So…?”

Shrugging, Julia stuffs her keys into her pocket. “Go for it. Just don’t fuck all over the furniture or I’m gonna fire you,” she cracks.

Jaskier laughs. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She might not be able to actually fire him, all joking aside, but Julia has a way of finding truly horrifying tasks to saddle him with. He isn’t about to try her and they both know it.  He pushes off of the counter, then digs a faxed receipt out of his back pocket and unfolds it. “Kreteks are on the way, by the bye. Here’s the tracking number.” 

Julia lights up, making grabby hands as Jaskier hands the receipt over. She scans it, then gives a satisfied smile and folds it up to stick in her wallet. “Great. All right, I’m gonna head outta here. Let me know how it goes, ok?”

“As if I’d leave you out of the loop,” Jaskier hums fondly. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Am I gonna lose a hand if I try to hug you?”

“Yep,” Julia says with a chuckle. She reaches over and slaps Jaskier’s shoulder companionably on her way out the door. “Good night, mijo.” 

“Good night, Julia. Drive safe.” Jaskier says to her retreating back, smiling. He turns away as the kitchen door swings shut and makes one last circuit of the bar. When he gets outside he closes up; there is a satisfying click as the tumblers lock into place. It has been a good night, and tomorrow is full of possibilities.

#geraskier #geraskier fanfic #geraskier fanfiction #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fanfiction #yenralt #geraskier pride week 2020 #warriors blues

[tiliamericana]

Muay Thai: 1.04

Read From Start | Read Ahead | Home Site

It was amazing just how quickly Nairi got used to waking up and finding texts from Cherry waiting for her.

Cherry seemed to be up and on at all hours of the day; she was awake in the morning well before Nairi’s eleven o’clock alarm, but also worked well into the small hours of the night and put in long hours at the day job. Nairi had managed to ascertain that it had something to do with art—Cherry had strong opinions on grades of paper (something about absorbency), colour theory (people were stupid), watercolours (they were bad), and on the one occasion she’d come upstairs had informed Nairi that her walls were driving her mad and that she’d be painting something to stop the encroaching insanity.

When she wasn’t inserting herself into Nairi’s life she was sending Nairi pictures and selfies with her other friends; grad students with brightly coloured hair, a grinning bartender showing off his flair, baking with a short woman in glasses. And now this:

C: youre closed on tues y/y?? C: which means yourf free tonight right?

Nairi sent her back a quick “yes” and set her phone down before pulling herself out of bed to face the day. Not opening the dojo meant she was able to take a little longer with her morning, but she still preferred to do her prayers before she had to think about anything else, and Cherry was prone to showing up if Nairi indicated she had free time. Which she apparently had a lot more of than she realised.

Maybe she should look for a new style to start training in. This was the first time she hadn’t been focused on a new one since she… Well, for a while.

When she came back upstairs her phone was lit up again. Maybe Cherry had ideas about lunch? It would mean she’d have a reason to go out and eat something.

C: great!! C: dn you wanna come out tonight?? dinner C: on me if i need to sweeten it ;) edies just moved back fr work and if its just me her and nick im go6na die from them being old folks who disapprove all night C: also i keep talking about you at nick and he wants to meet you lol

Nairi had initially assumed ‘Nick’ was Cherry’s father, just based on the way she talked about him. But then Cherry had mentioned her father later, just calling him ‘Dad’, so maybe he wasn’t? Either that, or she was very discreet about their being gay. Or she just went back and forth between ‘Dad’ and ‘Nick’ arbitrarily. ‘Edie’ on the other hand was a name Cherry had mentioned in passing once and then never again, so Nairi had concluded she was one of the colourful grad students. Apparently not.

She sent back a “sure”, and then after a moment, asked for a place and time.

C: yay!! thank you!! C: its this fckn italian place edie loves but theres a ok bar so not all bad C: edies fatal allergic to being on time but nickll be 7 minutes early

The next message was a sticker, a little pair of eyes rolling across her phone screen when she opened it.

C: meet at 7? C: i checked the menu has good veg C: pasta heavy but good :p

Nairi smiled a little at that and sent her another “yes”. After a moment she added a “thank you”. Cherry sent her back three hearts, and Nairi put her phone down to go and get some lunch.

She didn’t think anything of it until she showed up at the restaurant. Cherry had driven and was already parked, leaning against the side of her obnoxious little two door to wait. It was bright red and nearly vintage, and she’d obviously put a lot of care into it. Nairi had half expected vanity plates, but they were a normal registration.

Nairi waved as she approached and Cherry visibly perked up with a wide, glossy smile, waving back. Cherry had dressed up a little nicer—dark skinny jeans and a pretty sleeveless shirt with a modest v-neck. The heavy Docs were gone, traded for heeled ankle boots, and she had delicate pearl bob earrings to match her golden cross. Not a paint spatter in sight.

“Hi,” she said as Nairi drew to a halt just out of arm’s reach. “Didn’t we pick an interesting night to go out?”

“We sure did,” said Nairi, her brow furrowing as she looked past Cherry to the road between them and the restaurant. “What the hell is going on?”

The stretch of asphalt was filled with a flock of young adults, all of them shirtless, yelling along together in an incomprehensible chant as they ran up and down between two unmarked points on the road. They were arguably being directed; a young woman with a reflective coat and a manic grin, holding a megaphone in one hand and an airhorn in the other, was standing on a shopping cart in the middle. Standing next to her on the ground, was another woman in reflective orange with a clipboard.

Judging by the amount of honking and the lack of anything resembling city signage, this wasn’t an official event.

Cherry glanced down at her phone as one of the women held up the airhorn to the megaphone. Charitably she waited for Nairi’s ears to stop ringing before she spoke. “Flo did a round on the facebook pages—apparently it’s some dorm flash mob from a hall at her college.”

“Which one’s Flo? Did she have the blue hair?” asked Nairi as she lowered her hands from her head and gladly pulled her attention away from a panting eighteen-year-old who had something pink painted on his heaving chest.

“Nah that’s Mason, he’s finishing up his sociology honours. Flo has the green hair, she’s doing her psych PhD,” said Cherry, craning her neck to look around Nairi. “Nick’s here! Right on time, like I said.”

She started waving, and Nairi turned to see the tallest man she’d ever seen waving back across at them. She raised an eyebrow, the muscles in her forearms tensing, and she tried not to feel too uneasy about it.

Cherry hummed happily, picking herself up from where she was leaning on the car door and reaching in through the open window to grab a thin cardigan from the seat. “Oh, and just a heads up,” she said casually, “Nick like, really hates it when people call me Cherry, it’ll probably be better if you just use my real name in front of him.”

Nairi opened her mouth to remind her that she’d never actually gotten around to saying what the was exactly, but Cherry was already halfway across the lot towards the man. “Nick!” she called out as she approached, closing the distance and leaning up on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his shoulders.

He said something to her, pausing to hug her back before continuing over to Nairi. He drew to a halt next to her while Cherry returned to perching against her car. “You must be Nairi,” he said, voice alarmingly deep, hand outstretched. “Linden’s told me so much about you.”

Nairi took his hand and shook it once before dropping it, resisting the urge to take a step back once she’d done so. “Likewise. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Nicholas was close to seven feet tall and probably in his late fifties or very early sixties if she was any judge. His hair had landed firmly in the ‘grey’ zone just past salt-and-pepper, though he’d managed to keep rather a lot of it, close cropped in a very standard short back and sides. He had broad shoulders and a carefully ironed shirt that looked worn but cared for. He had a firm grip, muscle swelling ever so slightly in the lines of his shirt, and there was a furrow in his brow that made him look deeply concerned about something.

Though, from what she’d learned being friends with Cherry—Linden—if she were an older adult in her life she’d probably be deeply concerned as well. Or maybe it was the students.

“Do either of you know what’s going on here?” he asked after a moment, nodding at the crowd.

“Youthful hijinks keeping us from our dinner,” said Linden, grinning easily. She’d released some of the tension in her shoulders since Nicholas’s arrival, but at the same time seemed a little more on edge, like she was anticipating something. She took a deep, exaggerated breath, and pushed her hands into her jean pockets. “Do you know what that smell is?”

Nairi exchanged a faintly puzzled look with Nicholas, though his looked a little more exasperated. “Cheap beer?” she tried.

Linden sniggered. “Yeah, we called it ‘Eau de Freshie’ when I was in school,” she said, tossing her head to give the students behind them a speculative, almost mean look. They were still yelling enthusiastically, and she gestured at them. “It’s no longer funny, anyway. How many of these assholes do you reckon I have to beat up to let us get through?”

“I’m sure it doesn’t need to come to that,” said Nairi, her mouth twitching a little at the side.

Nicholas shot her a grateful look. “From the looks of things someone has already called the police, I’m sure they’ll be dispersed presently,” he said with a nod towards a pissed off looking woman standing by the crosswalk, phone jammed up against her ear.

“The cops always take fucking forever,” complained Linden, running a hand through her hair, foot tapping impatiently. “Come on Nick, you actually like, made a reservation and now we’re gonna miss it.”

“Linden I’m reasonably certain the staff can see what’s happening from where they’re standing,” said Nicholas, irritation creeping into his tone. “A little patience will not kill you, please do not start a fistfight with a teenager.”

Linden grinned at him, stretching her arms out in front of her chest. “I’m like, pretty certain the one with the airhorn is at least twenty.”

“Linden.”

“Well, I mean,” said Nairi speculatively, eyeing the students. “All you really have to do is be flashier than them.”

One of the running students fell out of pitch with their friends, and someone complained in her peripheral. A car door slammed and there was the crunch of footsteps on gravel followed by a huff as someone else joined the spectators. Linden turned her grin back to Nairi. “Yeah? You got an idea?”

“Yeah,” said Nairi, stepping up to Linden and reaching past her into the car window.

The other items she wanted were on the front seat, and Linden’s grin only widened as Nairi pulled them out. The baseball bat was wooden and well used, with a long crack threatening to split it clean open and letter stickers in the world’s ugliest font spelling ‘LINDE’ down the length. There was a clean spot amongst the built-up grime under the ‘E’. The bottle of lighter fluid was about half full, and Nairi held the bat out in front of her to squirt the contents over it liberally, splattering the asphalt in front of them as she did so.

She reached around Linden, extending the same familiarity she’d been receiving from her for the last two weeks, and pulled the lighter out of her back pocket.

The bat lit up easily and Nairi twisted it around to hold it upright, offering it to Linden. Linden looked at her, wide eyed, and took the bat. She placed her other hand on Nairi’s shoulder and squeezed it gently. “You get me,” she said with warmth, before throwing her head back and cackling loudly, sprinting towards the crowd of students with the bat raised over her head.

Nicholas, next to her, made a faint, strangled noise. Behind her was a scoff and a loud voice. “Well. I’m guessing you must be Nairi.”

She turned and came face to face with an older woman in a rumpled men’s dress shirt and glasses who was glaring at her. She had red hair, natural as opposed to Linden’s box dye, and it was plaited out of the way to keep her tired face clear. Grey blue eyes stared down Nairi under her stern brow, and she uncrossed her arms to step forward into Nairi’s personal space. She was stocky and only a little shorter, barely having to raise her chin. “Just for reference,” she said, tone acerbic, “If I hear a single piece of news about young adult burn victims in the local urgent care facilities tomorrow? I will track you down and hold you personally responsible.”

She stepped away without waiting for an answer, glare sliding over to Nicholas. “You’re so right, Nicholas, I can see how much of a model presence she is,” she said in a way that even Nairi could read the sarcasm. “You remain a uniquely terrible judge of character.”

She strode across the street in the wake of Linden’s chaos. The students had mostly scattered with cheers and yells, and the girl with the megaphone was doubled over laughing in her shopping cart.

Nicholas was very slowly turning red, staring at Nairi with an unreadable expression. She coughed slightly and spun on one foot to follow the others across the street, trying to swallow her irritation at their judgement.

#serial fiction #series honey tree #book muay thai #104 #lgbt fiction

[holylulusworld]

Can’t we make it right?

Summary: It’s just wrong…but at the same time so good. But all the wrong things have their consequences.

Paring: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: angst, kidnapping, tension, violence

Words: 2686

Wrong-Right Masterlist

Three days later…

“Hey…uh…I know it’s been a while, but can I come in? There’s something I need to talk to you about.” Steve stammers standing in your door frame.

Look cast down you open the door further to let him step in. Walking toward your small living room you sit onto a chair to offer Steve the tiny couch.

“Nice…” Steve says.

“I know it not nice, Steve. Just tell me what you want and leave me alone.” You whisper not looking into his eyes.

“Y/N, it’s been four years. Can we not talk civilian?”

“Why not? You are best buddies with him again too…” You say bitterly.

“I knew him before you and me…whatever. The reason I came here is that Nick offered his help and this means you would work with the Avengers again.” Steve stays and you start shaking your head.

“I rather quit my job then. Now go.”

“Listen…we really need your knowledge about weapons. You were never a combat member but there’s an organization building a weapon which could kill many people at once.”

“Out there are many experts, better than me. Just ask someone else. I’m not welcome at the Avengers tower. Did you forget what Tony said? I didn’t…just leave me alone.”

“You barely talk to anyone…huh?”

“No one wants to hear my side of the story Steve, no one except for Nat and Wanda. I was guilty that’s true and I would never deny the fact I cheated on you, Steve. But it was him coming into my room. I did not invite him, neither did I invite him to the wedding…”

“Can we stop talking about the past?” Steve tries.

“Great idea, Rogers. Leave my apartment and play best buddy with the monster you call your best friend. He always tried to destroy everything good in my life and he succeed. Now leave me alone as everyone else did. Even my parents…”

“Wait…your mom and dad don’t talk to you?”

“I’m worthless, a slut, no one to be proud of. I get it Steve; I was never good enough for you. I’m sorry I ever said yes when you asked me out.”

“Do you regret us?” Steve gasps.

“I regret I gave Bucky the chance to hurt you and destroy my life. Should’ve stayed away from this life and moved to Paris as planned.”

“Did you ever love me?”

“I loved you with all my heart, but he has this ability to… I can’t explain it. When he comes to me I’m helpless and then I can’t control myself. He came to me, kissed me, telling me he always loved me. I tried to push him away but then he ripped my dress open and pushed me onto the bed…”

“Did he force you?”

Shaking your head, you look at your feet. “I gave in. My fault…I’m a pathetic weak whore…” You sniffle.

“You’re not a whore, Y/N.”

“Tell Fury he can fire me, but I won’t work with the Avengers, or rather for them. I just can’t face anyone. They hate me and I cannot go back.”

“I’m afraid you got no choice. Fury already agreed and you have the order to follow me to our base.”

“I said no!” You yell now. Jumping up you clench your fists. “I won’t follow your orders, or anyone else’s anymore. I got enough of being pushed around by men believing they can do whatever they want to me. I’m done with following orders or asking for permission, Captain. Now out of my apartment.”

“Whoa…calm down, Sweetheart.”

“Fuck you, Rogers. You know you are not better than him. It was your friend forcing himself on me. It was him ruining our wedding too, but you forgave him. But I got all your hatred. You knew about his obsession but you…not me…you invited him to our wedding. It was as if you wanted for this to happen.” You yell and Steve jumps up to tower over you.

“I needed to know if you really want me.”

“I only wanted you! I forgot about him. Didn’t even think about his existence after we decided to become a thing. You brought him back into my life, not the other way around. Asshole. Fuck you, fuck Bucky and leave me alone.”

Storming toward your door you want to open it, but Steve grabs your arms to push you against the wall.

“Ow…”

“You will listen to me now. There’s no way you get out of this job. You will pack some things and come with me now!” Steve orders and you chuckle.

“Do you really believe you can order me around, Cap? I don’t think so. I won’t come with you and you can’t force me. I’m not the girl I used to be. Not the shy girl giving in to two super soldiers. I’m so much more now. You better not anger me even more, Steven.”

Pressing you into the wall Steve leans closer. A dangerous glimmer in his eyes he stares down at you. “You will come with me kitten or I will spank your ass,” he warns, and you shake your head.

“I’m not one of your puppets! Why are you calling me kitten? I’m not an animal.” You mutter and the tall man chuckles.

“Hmm…this will be fun. How long do you think you can keep me at bay before I will get mad?” Steve asks and you cock a brow.

“I don’t know, Captain Fantastic now let me go. You are hurting me. I don’t like bruises…”

“Bucky said something else,” Steve whispers in your ear and your eyes widen.

“I don’t think so.”

“He told me all the dirty things you liked to try with him. Was that the reason you preferred him?”

“I…no…I told you he has a strange influence on me. I can’t…I don’t know what it is. Now let me go, Steve. Please leave me alone now.” You try knowing if he stays longer Bucky could wake up and scream for his friends help.

“Can we not make it right?”

“Make it right? I don’t know what you are talking about, Steve.”

“Us. I want you and the way you squirm against my body tells me you want me too.”

“I can’t…you need to go. I have plans, Steve.”

“What kind of plans? The ones involving Nat and your little conspiracy against Bucky?” Steve asks and you try to tame your fear.

“I don’t know what you are talking about Steve.”

“You want to let him suffer. Hmmm…” The super soldier asks planting a soft kiss to your neck.

“Steve, you should go.” You pant but he won’t move a bit.

“No, I’m here as Bucky is missing, kitten. I think this has something to do with the nice video Claire got three days ago. I enjoyed watching it. You looked so hot…wild…” Steve mutters nipping at your neck.

“I still don’t know…”

“Hmm…do you still keep him hostage? Do you want to hurt him even more or will you let him go if I ask you nicely?”

“I…”

“We could talk to him together…we could make it right. Bucky and me. What do you say?”

“I say you are as crazy as your friend. I got no clue what you are talking about, Rogers. Now out of my apartment or I will call the cops.”

“You want to ask the police to arrest Captain America. What for? Wearing a beard. Having longer hair or for knowing you were a bad girl…”

“Go…”

“I do not ask for permission either. You made me see I was too nice, understanding. I’ll take what I want. Now I will take you.” Steve states before crushing his lips onto yours. Pushing against his chest you stare up at the blue-eyed man.

“Fuck you!”

“Where is he? Still in your bedroom for the next round? Do you plan a career as a porn star?” Steve growls pressing his pelvis against you.

“What?”

“I saw the moves, you are talented, but I bet with me as your partner you would’ve screamed. Is he still in there?”

“Yes, okay... I wanted to punish him. I knew Claire would never believe me…I wanted to fake it, but it had to look real…so I let him break out and…use me…” You sniffle.

“Use you…that’s what you want?”

“No! I wanted someone to love me with all his heart but none of you gave me the feeling you are all in. I knew it was only a matter of time you would bring Bucky back. You two are two sick peas in one pot. Not able to part ways.” You yell now.

“I loved you.”

“Not as much as you love your best buddy. Did you believe I didn’t know you met him behind my back? Maybe he even gave you advice on how to fuck me!”

“I don’t need advice on how to fuck a girl.”

“No. Only how to break my heart.” You whisper and Steve stiffens against you.

“I’m sorry for bringing him back into your life. I knew he would go after you and I didn’t stop him, Y/N. I was selfish. Needed you both in my life and this is how it ended. You are torn between me and Buck. In the end, I lost you, the most important person in my life.”

“I never was the most important person. It was always him. I bet you got off to a picture of him.” You mutter.

“I’m not gay!”

“Says the guy spending all his time with his best buddy instead of his fiancée. See…I knew this relationship was doomed from the begging. Do you know I wanted to go out with you first? I asked Bucky to give you my number back then.”

“Wait…you wanted to go out with me after we met at the bar?”

“Hmm…you were into my friend and not into me so I told Bucky to toss my number into the bin and left the bar. A week later he called me, asked me out.” You say.

“You wanted me not him?”

“I knew you didn’t want someone like me so I said yes after he asked me out. We had a few dates and he lost interest. Never called me back, I guess as I didn’t want to have sex with him right away. I was…”

“Innocent…I know. He didn’t stop talking about you and your pureness. I was so jealous you wanted him to have you first.”

“You didn’t show interest and after I saw you in the bar with my friend I knew for sure you would never…” Shrugging you cast your look down.

“You saw me and Claire? But why did you invite her to our wedding then?”

“Maybe I wanted to know for sure you are not into her anymore. But then I saw you flirting with her on our wedding day. She touched your biceps and you gave her this look.”

“Which look?”

“The look you gave all those other women except for me. The look telling a girl you want her. I walked back into my room and then someone knocked at the door.”

“Bucky…” Steve gasps.

“Hmm…He saw the tears and knew he only had to push my buttons to get what he wants. I was hurt and he said all these things. The things you never told me. That I’m sexy and that he only gets hard for me.”

“I thought you’re not into this kind of stuff and I never wanted Claire. I wanted you.”

“You can have her now, or share her with Bucky. This is the ideal constellation. You, Bucky and a girl willing to get shared.” You chuckle before you ram your knee into Steve’s balls.

Before the supersoldier can react your fist meets the point Nat showed you to knock someone out with the first punch.

“Y/N?” Steve gasps falling to the ground.

Jumping over his body you grab the gun hidden underneath your jacket the give him the same treatment as Bucky.

“Well, Cap. This went better than I planned. Didn’t know you would come to my apartment on free terms. You see I thought about this for a while, four years to be specific.” You say straddling his lap to lock eyes with him.

“Bucky was the one fucking my wedding up but you gave him the opportunity. I realized one thing. Over the four years of our relationship, you always tried to fake a coincident when Bucky met us, or we had a mission with him. Nat showed me the data about every single mission. Do you know what I found out? It was you ordering Bucky into our team. Not Fury or later Tony. It was you every fucking time, Captain America.”

“I can explain…” Steve tries trying to get up but the drug in the bullet won’t let him. “Why am I feeling so weak?”

“Oh, a nice new invention of mine. Do you like it? Makes you weak and obeyed for a while. I thought we should have a serious conversation. You, Bucky and me. Therefore I need you to be like a normal human being. Not the supersoldiers believing they can order me around, Stevie.” You chuckle kissing the top of his nose.

“You know I will break free and you won’t like the consequences,” Steve warns.

“Do you want to break up with me? Ruin my life or even better bring your psychopath of a friend back into my life? Wait…you did all of this before.”

“I will spank your ass and make you mine again and the Bucky will get his turn until you are our good girl again.”

Slapping his chest playfully while cackling you shake your head.

“Priceless, Cap. Didn’t know you can be that funny. Now I will tell you my plan. I will bring you to my bedroom…” at this Steve’s eyes darken. “…not to fuck you, pervert. I will give you the chance to meet your friend. Then I will check all the information I collected about you and Buck. Afterward, I will destroy your and Bucky life and we all live happily ever after.”

“As soon as I’m free you will beg me to be my good girl,” Steve warns glaring at you.

“Hmm…I’m not into begging anymore. As I said, I’m far from asking for permission. Maybe I will find a good use for you. I will get rid of Bucky but you, my pretty boy…” sliding your thumb along his jawline you give the supersoldier a smile. “…are much too cute to get rid off. Now get up and move into the bedroom. The drug will allow you to walk but nothing more.”

----

“Stevie? Great…I thought you came to my rescue not to share the bed with me.” Bucky mutters watching you pushing Steve onto the bed.

“Why are you naked?” Steve asks moving away from a very naked Bucky.

“Don’t like clothes, not close to her. Hmm, …she looks even hotter after a fight with you. Damn…”

“Can you stop talking?” You groan using your phone to increase the dose of the drug inside the bullets.

“Never, doll. Cut the crap and we can ride into the sunset. I’ll get my bike and drive with you anywhere you want to. Come on you know you love me.” Bucky tries.

“Okay boys, here are the rules. I will do as I please and you will shut your pretty mouths. Now I’m going to go shopping with Nat. You can scream and yell but this little device over there will send a signal to the bomb underneath the bed. So you yell…you die... you try to leave the bed...you die…easy…isn’t it?” You chuckle.

“Fuck, I love her even more. She’s one crazy chick, Stevie. A goddamn keeper.” Bucky growls.

“I’m not in the mood for your obsession, so keep it together Sergeant.” Steve orders.

“So, have fun boys…I mean Bucky is already naked.” You say activating the device.

“Please don’t do this, Y/N. We can make it right.” Steve tries.

“We could’ve made it right four years ago but both of you decided to break me. This is all that's left of me. See ya later. Be good boys or …far well!”

Marvel Tags

@stuckys-whore, @notyourtypicalrose

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel masterlist #bucky barnes #steve rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #tension #angst #kidnapping #Wrong-Right Masterlist #violence #james buchanan barnes #james barnes x reader #james barnes #captain america

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Cornelia Street (8/9)

(+ an interlude i thought of after reading “Reeni”s comment. Idk who you are bc it was a guest comment, but thank you!)

A/N: oh my god they were quarantined

yes. It’s one of those fics.

AU, obvs

I’m posting as I go and idk how many parts this is going to be, likely won’t be very long but I literally don’t know what I’m doing and should i be starting yet another WIP? definitely not but fuck it lets fucking go

Title is from T-swizzles Lover album, I’m OBSESSED

Summary: Three years ago, Kurt and Blaine went on a disaster of a date and never quite got off on the right foot. Now, just before they graduate from NYADA, there’s a national outbreak and they’re both self-quarantined in a mutual friend’s apartment.

Read On AO3

On Tumblr: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Interlude

QueenJCedes replied to your story!

Kurt bites back a dopey grin when he opens Mercedes’s snapchat message. It’s a photo of her looking dubiously at the camera, a single eyebrow pointed up, with the caption: Quarantine buddies, huh?

He snaps back a quick photo of himself, eyes rolled upwards. What can I say, he won me over.

She sends back just a message this time—

Mercedes: Yeah, clearly. Mercedes: Head over feet, Alanis style!

—and then a bitmoji of Kurt falling through the air.

Kurt: I mean… You’re not wrong Kurt: He’s sort of everything Kurt: AND a fantastic kisser

Mercedes: OMG REALLY? I was just teasing, but if this is legit, I’m so happy for you!!!

He can’t help but giggle excitedly as he types a reply. 

Kurt: Yeah. me too.

*

New Snap from setroutymouth

Blaine rolls his eyes but still can't school the smile on his face into a neutral expression. This is going to be a lot, he already knows, but nevertheless, he swipes his thumb across the screen to unlock his phone.

Sam’s pacing through Mercedes’s childhood home in Ohio, phone in selfie mode, already rambling at a hundred miles a minute that Blaine’s sure he cut off a few words.

“—cedes just showed me Kurt’s snapchat story and I AM LOSING IT! Did something happen between you two? Oh my god, something totally happened, didn’t it!? BLAINE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED MERCEDES WON’T TELL ME AND I ALREADY FINISHED EVERY BINGABLE SHOW ON NETFLI—”

As expected, it was a lot. But still not enough to burst his happy little bubble. He doesn’t think anything could, at this point.

Through his smiles, he snaps back a picture of himself shrugging, trying to look as clueless as possible, and adds the caption: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

It’s not even a full moment before he gets another video back.

“BLAINE ANDERSON I AM BEGGING YOU—”

Blaine locks his phone shut, mostly because he knows it’ll drive Sam crazy. He can respond later. Right now, there are more important matters at hand.

*

Blaine’s in the kitchen, putting away what was left of the carton of Cookie Two-Step ice cream they’d demolished while watching another Netflix romcom, when Kurt’s phone lights up.

New Message: From: Adam I saw your sc story You know you could just be *my* quarantine buddy When are you coming?

Kurt actually growls as he types out a reply. How did he put up with this for nearly three years?

New Message: To: Adam I’m not.

Kurt. We both know how this ends.

Not this time. I meant it. We’re done.

Okay, whatever you say I’ll check in with you later When you change your mind

Kurt doesn’t even warrant that with a response, he’s too seething mad to even formulate one with enough bite to put Adam in his place.

But then the door opens, Blaine’s beaming at him, and Adam is completely irrelevant.

“I was just thinking,” Blaine muses aloud, slipping under the covers and snuggling up next to him in a way that Kurt knows will be way too easy for him to get used to. “Do you remember our Junior year when we had to partner up during Stagefighting for that Musical Choregraphy project?”

Kurt explodes into laughter. “Uh, yeah, that was pretty ridiculous. I remember hearing from Matthew that you said I dance like a pigeon that’d been chewed up and spit out by a cat.”

“What!?” Blaine exclaims, shocked. “I swear I never said that. Though, I do remember going on a tangent about how I didn’t know how I was supposed to concentrate when you insisted on wearing those pants with that tight fitted shirt and…”

He trails off, and Kurt can feel color rising to his cheeks. “Oh, that explains it, actually.”

“Explains what?”

“Matthew. He had a huge crush on you.”

Blaine’s eyes double in size. “He what!?”

Kurt lets out a chuckle. “You seriously didn’t know?”

“No! Nobody told me!”

“That’s not how crushes work, Blaine,” Kurt says through a stream of giggles. 

“Okay, why does it make more sense for me to just take a wild guess about how people feel about me instead of them telling me, or acting on it? Like, if you hadn’t have kissed me earlier, I would have never known how you felt and kissed you back.”

Kurt opens his mouth to argue that logic, but… he seriously cannot get over how oblivious Blaine is. “So you’re saying that if I hadn't accidentally kissed you then you really wouldn’t have known how I feel?”

“Yeah. And I would most definitely not have acted on my crush.”

“Aw,” Kurt teases. “You used to have a crush on me. That’s embarrassing.”

“And you watch too much Parks and Rec.” 

“I’m gonna kiss you again, now,” he announces.

Blaine just grins, eyes crinkling at the sides. “I think that’s a great idea.”

There wasn’t much of a choice because of the shelter in place, but based on the bright spark forming in his chest when their skin meets, Kurt could definitely get used to this living situation.

*

Blaine finally pulls away reluctantly. If he could stay attached to Kurt forever, stay connected to him, he would. He roams his eyes over Kurt’s face, like he could memorize it if he really, really tried, and notices a scar just above his eyebrow. It would be invisible to anyone else, anyone who wasn’t trying to intentionally map out the image of Kurt.

The scar doesn’t bother Blaine, but the idea that someone ever hurt Kurt bad enough to leave physical evidence that refuses to leave tugs achingly at his heart. Instinctively, he takes his hand from where it rests on the side of Kurt’s face, and gently traces over the scar with the pad of his index finger soothingly, as if it hasn’t been healed for years.

“Sophomore year… two years ago,” Kurt’s murmuring refocuses his attention.

That was a hazy time for Blaine, but he does have a vague memory of hearing from a friend of a friend that Kurt spent some time in the hospital, and he definitely remembers his rival-slash-partner being missing from their stage acting class for a while.

“What happened?” He asks.

Kurt is so calm, so steady when he answers. It leaves him in awe. “It was when all those gay bashings were happening…” he pauses, and Blaine immediately feels sick to his stomach because he knows where this is heading. “I was on my way home from school and saw these guys attacking some teenager, and… I had to help. I ran over and started shoving them, I guess. I didn’t really know what I was doing, but the kid got away. I didn’t. The last thing I remember after that was what I think might’ve been a brick hitting my head.”

“Jesus,” Blaine breathes. His initial reaction is to say I’m sorry, but something tells him that Kurt isn’t sorry about it at all. Instead, he says, “I had no idea. That–that was really brave of you.”

Kurt snorts out a laugh. “I’m glad you think so. I spent most of my hospital stay being berated by my dad about how irresponsible it was.”

“No,” Blaine shakes his head. “If anything it was over-responsible.”

“I’m not convinced that’s a word.”

“Me neither,” Blaine says breathlessly, amber gaze fixed on the boy lying across from him.

He really just can’t help but pull them together again. 

Blaine thinks Kurt is opening his mouth to deepen the kiss and, well, he’s certainly not going to complain. Until Kurt sucks in a deep breath and turns his head, chuckling through his yawn.

“Sorry, I really thought I could hold that yawn in.”

Blaine lets out a laugh of his own and glances over at the analog clock on the nightstand. “It’s only midnight, you grandpa,” he teases.

“Hey! Doing nothing all day is seriously draining.”

“I wouldn’t call what we did nothing,” Blaine says cheekily, causing Kurt to flush.

“I’m going to shower before I head to bed,” Kurt responds, sitting up and lifting his arms up over his head and exposing an inch or so of his midriff.

Blaine is trying so hard not to stare. Nevertheless, he can’t help it as he watches Kurt saunter off to the restroom. 

He tosses his head back onto the pillow with a satisfied grin on his face. Global crisis it may be, but if he got Kurt Hummel out of it… he could complain about worse things.

A bright ding from his right interrupts his thoughts. Blaine turns his head and sees the screen of Kurt’s phone light up, resting there on the nightstand.

He’s not snooping. He’s really not. It’s just sort of instinct to look in the direction of the sounds.

Then, he sees the succession of messages that make his stomach churn.

New Message: From: Adam Hurry and finish up with the rebound already I miss you Text me when you’re on your way

He stares at the screen for a few seconds before it fades back to black, feeling absolutely sick to his stomach. Of course Kurt was going to run back to his ex the first chance he got. It’s exactly what he did three years ago and Blaine was just kidding himself. This was all too good to be true.

Turns out it wasn’t.

Before he knows it, he’s grabbing his duffel bag and dialing Quinn’s number. 

He’s always welcomed there and New Haven isn’t all that far, after all.

Part 9

#klaine #glee #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #klaine fanfiction #wow look at me im writing! #cornelia street

[ashfountainfanfics]

“Mr. Harrington?” the nurse at the doctor’s office asks.

Steve startles and drops the old magazine he’d been pretending to look at. Billy is at his eight week check up and there’s no telling if he’s going to come out with a cast or not. Steve’s spent God knows how long in the lobby weighing both outcomes. If the cast stays on then that objectively sucks and if it comes off then great! Right?

But they had developed a routine in the past few weeks and that routine has been running through Steve’s mind.They’d wake up and Billy would try to bark out instructions to Steve on how to make a proper breakfast. Steve knows how to fry an egg now but he still burns the bacon. Billy gives him shit for it every time but sometimes he mutters a compliment on the eggs. 

Billy then naps while Robin comes over for pool time. Billy fixes up lunch and leaves Steve’s out on the coffee table while Steve showers. Billy then showers while Steve eats. Steve and Billy play a game of cards; sometimes poker. It depends on whether Dustin’s over for dinner or not and, surprise, Dustin’s amazing at poker.

Then Billy and Steve settle in on the couch. They watch TV and talk. Sometimes they talk about their childhoods. Sometimes it’s about their pasts. Sometimes it’s just giving each other shit but in a good way. Other times they just let the TV do the talking for them. It ends the same, they both fall asleep on that same couch. They don’t talk about that part though because Billy’s always waiting in the kitchen by the time Steve wakes up.

“Mr. Harrington,” the nurse repeats, “Your friend asked me to give you his discharge paperwork.”

“Discharge? Is he-”

“Read the paper, Mr. Harrington,” the Nurse replies.

Steve does just that but his eyes are manic as they haphazardly search for an answer.

Ibuprofen as needed.

Follow up in two weeks.

Low level activity.

...low level activity!

The door opens and Billy’s standing on the other side, cast free. Billy smiles brightly at Steve and slowly makes his way across the lobby. He has a limp and he’s carrying both cruthces in one hand.

“Doc says he’s never seen someone recover so well,” he smiles, “and my teachers always said I’d amount to shit.”

“Mr. Hargrove,” the nurse warns with an even temper, “language please.”

Billy’s previously injured leg looks so pale and it’s leaner than the other. It’s not a dramatic difference and maybe it’s just Steve’s brain overcompensating for the bulky cast. Billy’s wearing both of his boots now and it looks hilarious paired with his shorts.

“You need jeans,” Steve laughs.

“Ya think?” Billy bites back.

The biting and snapping is so different now than it was before. Before it felt like handling the violent outbursts of a wild animal. Now it’s harmless, playful even. It reminds Steve of how puppies play with each other. Not that he would dare tell Billy that he makes Steve think of puppies. Teasing aside there’s still boundaries.

Steve keeps an eye on Billy and matches his pace. He can’t help it.  He’s gotten accustomed to going Billy’s speed. They get to the car.

“Keys,” Billy demands, “I’m driving.”

Steve doesn’t question it and tosses them over. They load up and Steve has butterflies in his stomach. Billy adjusts the radio and then peels out from the parking lot.

Steve’s chest feels heavy because he isn’t sure where they’re going.

He doubts that Billy is going back to his dad’s place. For a while, Steve thought he might go back for Max but he doesn’t need to. Billy understood that since she was willing to stand up to him she is definitely prepared to stand up to her father too. But even then, if that excuse for a father figure ever lays a finger on Max, Billy’s going to do something about it.

‘I’m not afraid of shit anymore’ Steve remembers him saying one night. Steve made him promise not to do anything that would send him to prison. Billy found a compromise; he wouldn’t do anything that would get him life in prison. That was the best Steve could hope for.

Steve feels his breath hitch whenever they come to a turn but so far they’re following the same route back. There’s a little thrill as the car curves around the corner the way he hoped it would.

“You okay?” Billy asks before taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Yeah.”

“Then why do you have your head out the window like a dog?”

Steve brings himself back to an appropriate position.

“I’m trying to not to throw up,” he covers, “You drive like a maniac.”

Billy laughs and speeds up. They come up to a light and it turns yellow but Billy doesn’t slow down.

“Billy...” Steve warns.

The light turns red and Billy floors it.

“BILLY!”

Billy whoops in excitement as they get through the light unscathed. A series of angry car horns sing behind them. Steve unfolds his arms and legs from the ball he’d formed on instinct.

“You’re insane!”

“Nah, I’m free, baby!”

So much for being harmless, Steve thinks as his heart rate goes back to normal.

Billy pulls up to the Harrington residence. He shuts off the car and the radio cuts off leaving a silence between them. Neither of them gets out of the car right away. Billy squeezes the steering wheel and Steve taps his fingers on his knees.

“So you’re better now,” Steve tests the waters.

“Yup.”

“You’ve got both legs.”

Billy nods but his eyebrow is raised in suspicion. Steve can tell he’s irritating him but he can’t stop.

“You can go anywhere and do whatever.”

“Is there a point here?” Billy says with a tight jaw.

“So stay.”

It comes out quick and painfully on the nose. Steve catches a quick glance at Billy and the wide eyes looking back make him want to curl back into a ball. He could be setting himself up for a different kind of collision and unlike Billy there’s no sense of high in it.

“If you want,” Steve tries to tone it down, “You don’t have to but- you staying would be, uh, good.”

I used to be smooth once, Steve laments internally, I used to be cool.

“I’m not sleeping on the couch anymore,” Billy says after a moment passes.

“Yeah. Yeah sure.”

Steve’s chest is no longer heavy but instead has the curious sensation of being split right down the middle. Billy’s refusing the couch which must mean he’s not staying. It was stupid to think he would. Did Steve honestly think they were... well, at minimum, friends? He must have misread something along the way. Maybe all their routine came down to was tolerance. Now there’s no reason to tolerate anything anymore. Billy’s free to be wherever he wants to be.

“You can’t make up the bed tight either,” Billy complains, “That shit looked like military quarters on one side. If I wanted to sleep in some rigid crap like that I’d have joined the army.”

“...what?”

“I’m not spelling it out for you,” Billy gets out the car and slams the door shut behind him.

God knows Billy never does. Steve does understand what he’s saying though. He’s gotten good at decoding the way Billy expresses things. Everything comes out in sharp edges but if it’s filtered right Steve can hear some amazing and unexpected things; sympathy, kindness, affection… vulnerability. At the moment, it sounds like Billy is wanting to stay and not like he was staying before.

Steve knows what the bed reference is towards. The night that Billy was high and he needed a different bed Steve absolutely stayed in that bed with him. It may have seemed like a weird impulse given the kiss that preceded it but Steve was worried. It didn’t seem right to leave Billy alone. He slept on top of the covers though. He didn’t want them touching then. He didn’t trust it.

Steve fumbles over his seatbelt and manages to meet up with Billy. He’s leaning against the front door and already smoking a second cigarette. He puffs away at it anxiously but the expression on his face is stern. Steve gets closer than he’s dared to before, maybe an inch away. He’s close enough to touch him and he finds it infuriating that he wants to.

“Look,” Steve says, trying to wear Billy down with a serious gaze, “I know that you’re not good at saying what you mean and normally I get it anyway. And I think I get what you’re saying now but I need to know because if I do this, if we do this, it has to be for sure.”

“Know what?” Billy say before taking another drag.

Steve’s been dancing around his own feelings for two months, constantly in and out of what can only be described as a gay panic. It had been exhausting. Ultimately, he settled on acknowledging what Billy makes him feel but not acting on it unless Billy initiates it again. It felt less complicated that way. Now that initial move has been made… probably. Steve needs the clarity and for the first time in their new rapport he’s demanding it.

“Did you just ask to sleep in my bed? With me?”

Billy puts on his best ‘fuck you’ grin before blowing out a slow, steady stream of smoke into Steve’s face.

“Okay,” Steve rolls his eyes and starts to turn away.

It could have been easy to stop right there. They could let all of this go and write it off as a bad joke. Steve could go back into that house and dance around hidden signals and off remarks for God knows how many more months. Or maybe that was the clarity he needed. Billy doesn’t reciprocate and his cryptic shit really isn’t so cryptic.

Fuck that, Steve decides.

He literally grabs the cigarette out of Billy’s mouth and before Billy can be pissed about it he pins him to the door with his forearm. The cigarette lands in the dirt and Steve can’t tell why his blood is boiling. Is it because he’s mad? Or because he’s finally touching Billy? Or both?

“Tell me what you want,” Steve growls, “or get the fuck out of my house.”

Billy looks furious but Steve stands his ground. Even if Billy decides to kick his ass and take off with his car at least Steve will know where they stand. He’s done playing games.

“Kiss me,” Billy says through bared teeth.

Steve does a mental double take. He brings his arm down so Billy isn’t trapped against the door anymore.

“Really?”

“Am I speaking goddamn Spanish!?” Billy shouts, “Fucking do it alre-”

Billy doesn’t get to finish because Steve’s lips are on his mouth and it feels good. It feels better than the last time and different. Billy isn’t playing casanova. In fact, the something almost shy about him.

Steve stick a leg in between Billy’s as he plants his hands on either side of his head. Billy moans into the movement and Steve swears that he’s melting like butter under him. Billy hooks a hand into the front of Steve’s jeans and pulls him even closer.

This is happening. In broad daylight. With everyone sober. Steve’s whole body wants to crash into Billy’s. It’s a hunger and an inevitable gravity.

Steve detours his kisses along Billy’s jaw and lands on his neck. He gets to work on leaving a mark because Steve can’t stand the idea of not marking him. That primal part of his mind goads him into it. He’s gentle at first but builds into a hard bite. The animal in him pushes further and he starts rutting against Billy.

“Fuck,” Billy murmurs pleasantly.

God yes, Steve thinks as Billy’s sounds curl up into him and caresses his every nerve.

“Fuck,” Billy groans again before his tone shifts, “Wait. Fuck! No, hey!”

Billy pushes Steve away hard. It feels like being cut off in the middle of a current. He doesn’t understand at first. He tries to think why Billy would stop. What in God’s name could have stopped that?

Did...did someone see us? Is someone else here!?

Steve panics. He knows what it means to have a certain kind of hate. He knows how violent that hate can get. He looks around frantically and steps back.

“I am NOT your bitch, Harrington!” Billy screams out, “You touch me like that again and I’ll fucking kill you!”

Dumbstruck, Steve tries to cultivate a response. This wasn’t even in the realm of possible reasons to stop what they were doing but here it is anyway. No danger. Just insecurity.

“I didn’t- I wasn’t-”

“Fuck you!”

The heartbreak settles in now. He wasn’t trying to treat Billy in any kind of way except well. What did he do wrong? Was he too aggressive? Too dominant? The last thing he wanted to do was give Billy a reason to push him away and then he literally pushes him away. Billy’s back to biting and clawing and not in the good way. He’s feral again and Steve desperately wants to go back just a handful of seconds. Billy was so close to being okay with all of this.

“Billy... I’m sorry,” Steve says quietly, “We can do this different. Or not at all if you’re not okay. I don’t- I never ever want to make you feel shitty, okay? Never.”

Billy takes this in and lights up another cigarette. He sits down on the front steps leading up to the door and blows a puff of smoke out the side of his mouth. Steve cautiously sits down next to him. The concrete is hot under him and he imagines that it’s not very comfortable for Billy either. But Billy doesn’t let on.

“What do you wanna do?” Steve asks.

Billy straightens out his formerly injured leg. He very slowly and purposefully moves the toe of his shoe out and back. Another long drag and Steve’s wondering if Billy’s ever going to talk again.

“-ry,” Billy whispers so quietly that only the last syllable is audible.

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

It’s an apology. Steve was expecting another argument, another round of silence. He’s not sure how to respond yet.

“I’m new to this gay shit,” Billy continues.

“Me too,” Steve chimes in quickly.

Billy drops his cigarette down and grinds it out with his boot. He turns toward Steve and attempts eye contact. He then immediately drops it and turns back.

“I’ve never-” he looks like talking is both embarrassing and painful, “I don’t get involved with people. Y’know, with feelings and shit. I think it’s fucking stupid.”

This isn’t helping Steve’s heartache at all.

“But you’re not stupid.”

Billy offers his hand palm up, fingers spread. He doesn’t look at Steve but his hand stays open and waiting. They could have more of a conversation but this feels pretty clear.

Steve mimics Billy’s eye line. They both stare off into the distance with cool expressions. Steve then crosses his wrist on top of Billy’s and laces their fingers together.

—-

“I have a job!”

Steve shouts his news as he enters his parent’s house. He races to the living room and manages to hop over the back of the couch. He lands with a flop next to Billy who’s got his nose in a newspaper.

“I have a job,” Steve repeats with a smile, “and my only uniform is a vest.”

“Don’t phrase shit like that. Sounds like you’re only wearing a vest. Like no pants or something.”

“I didn’t think of it like that but not wearing pants would sweeten the deal.”

“You don’t have the balls to go out naked in public,” Billy mutters as circles one of the ads in the paper.

Steve laughs.

“I used to,” he points out, “but streaking lost its high in junior year.”

Steve moves in closer to Billy. The spaces between them always feel so heavy and there’s only ever room between them for conversation or kissing. 

Last night they slept together in Steve’s bed and before they drifted off they had made out for hours. They didn’t speak a word to each other though and that was for the better. Talking about it muddled things by bringing attention to details Steve wasn’t sure they could handle. Or more accurately details that Billy can’t handle. Steve feels like he’s adjusting fairly well to the whole liking another guy thing.

Nonetheless, Steve can recall the heat and sweat of last night in quick flashes. Billy still smells the same, a sweet sort of musk. Steve wants so badly to press his lips into where Billy’s shoulder meets neck but he has to be cautious. Now isn’t the right time.

“You find some leads?” Steve distracts himself with the task at hand.

A few spots have been circled on the wanted page: box boy for the local grocery store, assistant to a mechanic, and-

“Police officer?” Steve asks incredulously.

Billy snaps the newspaper back to himself. He wasn’t expecting Steve to read over his shoulder. He hadn’t been expecting him to be so close really.

“You don’t think I could be a cop?”

“I didn’t know you wanted-“

“Who fucking says I want to?”

There are days where it feels like it’s never going to get easier with him. In fact, Steve catches himself wondering briefly if they ever really move forward at all. Any time he thinks he’s getting close enough toward- well whatever it is they’re gravitating toward - they slip back a bit. It’s always Billy too. Steve tries but it’s like Billy gets skittish… in a loud and yelling sort of way.

“I think it might be helpful. To be a cop. That’s all.”

“How?”

“You’re a real dumbass sometimes,” Billy narrows his eyes but settles down:

“Then enlighten me, oh wise one,” Steve bites back with just the right amount of sarcasm.

It works and Billy relaxes.

“Shit happens here. A lot. The only cop any of you know is dead so-“

“You want to replace Hop?”

“I want to be useful,” he says it quietly and stares at the floor intently.

“I’ve been on the other end of your right hook. You’re more than useful.”

Billy mumbles something but Steve can’t catch it under the gravel of the other boy’s natural tone. He leans into Billy’s space to hear him better.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Billy notes quickly while keeping still.

“I really didn’t.”

“Fucking hell! I said-“

Billy turns to face Steve and he’s suddenly very close. So often he moves in wild and unpredictable ways but the speed with which he moves and the suddenness he’s stopped could give a man whiplash. His nose is just an inch from Steve’s. When he meets his eyes they become soft, almost bashful.

“- I’m sorry…for hitting you back then. I’m sorry”

Steve doesn’t dare to break their shared gaze. It has that hot and thick feeling to it. It’s both intoxicating and important. He swears there’s a cheesy love song playing distantly in the background but he waves it off as just being in his mind.

This is the second apology Steve’s gotten. Something about Billy saying sorry knocks the air out of Steve. Even now he’s trying to steady himself in the wake of it and the sudden tension.

“Make it up to me,” Steve finds the perfect tone between a demand and a request.

Billy responds to it by cupping a hand to Steve’s face. His fingers feel warm against Steve’s cheek and he wants more.

“You got my eye pretty bad,” he elaborates.

Billy guides the back of Steve’s head into a slight tilt down. He gives a gentle kiss over his left brow.

“And the mouth. You drew blood.”

Billy moves gracefully to the corner of Steve’s mouth. He leaves a kiss there before moving to the middle and kissing Steve softly and languidly.

“And my ribs,” Steve complains between kisses.

“I know.”

It’s a tender concession. Steve is enthralled by this version of Billy: the side of him that is sweet, compliant even, and wanting.

Billy presses his body weight into Steve and Steve adjusts so he’s lying on his back. Billy’s on top of him. Steve allows it as Billy follows the map Steve’s given him. He lifts Steve’s shirt and wordlessly leaves his apologies on his rib cage. He then starts moves to his abs and Steve can’t deny the growing arousal and how Billy is purposeful getting closer to it.

Steve’s head is swimming. He can only hope for what he thinks is coming to him but he doesn’t dare interrupt or confirm. He’s letting Billy set the pace. Billy has the power here and Steve’s okay with that. Steve doesn’t need power like Billy does.

If Steve had been paying more attention he would have known that the music he heard earlier was not in his head. In fact it had been playing in the other room. If he wasn’t letting his thoughts wander into less PG territory he would have heard that music shut off or he would have heard a door open and maybe he would have heard footsteps. But he didn’t. The only thing Steve and Billy hear is the very loud outburst from Max as El stands next to her watching the two of them with a confused expression.

“OH MY GOD!” Max keeps yelling, “OH MY GOD! OH GOD!”

So much for third base.

—-

Steve can hear Billy and Max having it out downstairs. Steve thought the girl’s massive freak out would make it difficult to pull her best friend away but it didn’t. El seems to understand that the siblings needed to talk- or yell technically.

Now El is sitting at Steve’s lifelong neglected study desk with the chair spun out so she can see him leaning against the wall by the door. Neither of them can make out words from the noises downstairs but the emotions are certainly audible.

“So,” Steve begins, “You and Max hanging out here now?”

“Not enough room at Joyce’s house,” El notes, “And Max’s house is too empty. She says it is like a ghost house.”

Steve feels a sharp pain at the idea of Max being lonely. He knows that Billy wasn’t great company but he was company nonetheless.

“Billy said it is okay. Is it okay?”

Steve doesn’t mind any of his gaggle of children hanging around. In fact, he feels better with them here instead of getting into trouble. He wasn’t expecting Billy to offer their place up to Max and El as a retreat though.

“Of course you can hang out here. Our casa es su casa.”

A confusing wave of feelings smack into Steve has he realizes that he just self referred to his home as belonging to both himself and Billy.

El brings her legs up to sit crisscross in the chair. She’s got a scraped knee on her left side. She’s that age. The age where you can have a boyfriend and a scraped knee. Steve is awkwardly aware of how little she may know about what she saw. Or worse, how much she does know.

“So, Billy and I-“

“Is Max okay?”

“She will be. She’s just surprised.”

“Bad surprise?”

“Well,” Steve attempts to explain, “Not bad. Maybe bad for her? But it’s not bad. I don’t think.”

Steve realizes how hard it is to explain something when the person explaining isn’t even sure about the explanation.

Steve sighs and slides down to sitting on the floor. El has a calculating look on her face. Steve wishes that her weird intuition would fill in the blanks for him. When she starts to speak, Steve puts hope in that silly wish.

“Max did not know that you and Billy want to get married?”

Steve manages to choke on air.

“What!?”

El explains that Chief Hopper once sat down with her and explained that sometimes adults who aren’t married sometimes date. That dating sometimes leads to living together. Usually when that happens the adults want to get married and sometimes do.

“...and then sometimes they do something only adults do and there is a baby,” El concludes.

Steve holds his head up with a hand covering his mouth. He’s nodding like El is making perfect sense but internally he’s screaming.

“You are Billy are adults-“

God that sounds weird out loud to Steve but she’s right. Billy and Steve are both eighteen. A few more months and Steve will actually be nineteen. Steve doesn’t necessarily feel like an adult though. He’s had sex and worked a job. Neither of those things feel exclusive to adulthood. How do you know you’re a real adult?

“-and you live together,” El continues.

It occurs to Steve that maybe Hopper never used the words ‘man and woman’ in his talk. He must have leaned on the word ‘adult’ in the hopes of El taking home the message that only grown ups do these things and she’s a child therefore she can’t do them. Not the best or most informed sex talk but that had to have been the intent.

“Ah! Yes okay,” Steve decides to define it more, “So, yes we live together-“

“And you were kissing.”

“Billy and I can’t get married,” Steve says quickly to gloss over El’s interjection.

This gives the girl pause. She sits up a bit straighter and fixes Steve with a concerned look. 

“Can’t?”

“Well… no. It’s against the law.”

El looks completely lost. He brow is knit. Steve is starting to sweat and he wants so badly to leave this conversation. El doesn’t see the problem with Billy and Steve kissing and living together. Hell, she thinks they might get married. Steve wishes more people were like her. He wishes he was like her.

“Most people,” his voice wavers a little, “are used to only boys and girls, men and women, kissing. That’s what they call normal.”

Steve doesn’t want to talk about this. He doesn’t want to face that reality. He wants it to stay quarantined in his bedroom. It’s safe there and the world outside is so… not safe.

“They don’t understand when boys like other boys or girls like girls or a man with a man or- you get it?”

El nods.

“So if they see that or they hear about it or they even think it, they get really angry.”

This is my life now. This is what can happen if we stay together.

Steve’s throat is closing up and he struggles hard to keep going. El gets up from her chair and sits in front of Steve.

“Sometimes they get so angry that they hurt people. People like…me. And they get really angry, like kill someone angry. I know because I used to be angry too.”

Steve wants a time machine. He wants to take back every single utterance of the words “queer” and “fag.” God, what if they actually were gay? He made them feel like this. Like nothing feels safe. Like wanting to die.

Steve feels tears crawling up through the limited space in his throat. He holds them there. He doesn’t like to cry. He won’t do it.

“It’s called being gay,” he forces himself to breathe, “and people call you bad words for it. Fag. Queer.”

Steve drops his chin to his chest. He grabs fistfuls if his hair. He wants to scream. He wants to beat the shit out of himself. Because he’s been the asshole throwing punches and calling names. And now he’ll be on the other end.

“I’m such a piece of shit” he finally laments.

“No.”

Steve looks up. His nose is congested and his ears feel hot and tired. On reflex he eases the grip on his hair.

“No?” he asks.

“You are not shit.”

It’s hilarious really; how she can say that with such a serious face. It’s even funnier how the phrase give Steve permission to breathe again.

“They are shit. They are bullies. You are not a bully. You are nice. You are my friend. You protect my friends and give us snacks. Bullies don’t share snacks.”

If it were possible Steve would adopt this child. He can see what Hopper saw in her. She’s complicated and naive but she’s kind. She’s just a good kid. One that any parent would be proud of.

“You’re right,” Steve laughs mostly to himself, “bullies don’t share snacks.”

El laughs with him and she does it legitimately. She’s right about the other stuff too. Steve isn’t a bully, at least not anymore. Even before Billy, he managed to put his old shit aside and accept Robin. His old self would have been enraged that he’d been rejected. He absolutely would have passive aggressively slipped that information to someone shittier than him. There would have been a mob in a matter of days, torches and all. The old Steve would have let her burn and acted like he hadn’t handed them the matches to do it.

That’s not who he is now.

“You can’t tell anyone,” Steve says, “Billy and I are a secret.”

“Friends don’t lie,” El says, looking almost hurt by the assumption that she’s being asked to.

“It’s not lying. If too many people know it can put us in danger. It’s like-“

His eyes light up.

“Your super powers! Those had to be a secret right? So you’d be safe. It’s like that.”

El understands this perfectly.

“I will keep you and Billy safe,” she says with a mild determination, “I promise.”

Steve realizes that the fighting has stopped downstairs. He wonders if that’s a good thing or not. He stands up and offers a hand to help El up.

“We should check on them,” Steve notes as El pulls on his arm.

As Steve prepares himself for whatever scene awaits him downstairs, he makes it a point to stay in front of El. Her powers had made her strong but with or without them Steve is going to protect this kid. Even if it’s just keeping her safe from little bull shit things.

Speaking of bull shit, he’s going to have to figure out a way to let Joyce know that El needs an actual sex talk but that’s a problem for another day.

#stranger things have happened ff #Chapter 3: Stay or Go #sthhch3 #harringrove

[lonelier-version-of-you]

Finally listening to Folklore. I did a ‘thoughts on...’ post for Lover, so I suppose it’s only fair I do one for this album too. So, here we go.

I’ll give my thoughts, list favourite lyrics, and rate each track as I did before. Also - because if you’re the type of person who follows me, then we all know this is probably the information you’re REALLY looking for - I’m gonna rate each song based on how Johnrik it is.

the 1:

A gorgeous opening track. It has a lovely, wistful tone to it.

Favourite lyrics: “Persist and resist the temptation to ask you / if one thing had been different / would everything be different today?” “But we were something, don’t you think so? Roaring 20s, tossing pennies in the pool / and if my wishes came true, it would’ve been you / in my defense, I have none / for never leaving well enough alone”.

7/10. Johnrik rating: 9/10.

Rest of the album under the cut ‘cause this is LONG.

cardigan:

Oh, I LOVE this song. It starts out tender and beautiful and slowly turns into sad and equally beautiful.

Favourite lyrics: “You drew stars around my scars / but now I’m bleeding” “But I knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss / I knew you’d haunt all of my what-ifs / the smell of smoke would hang around this long / ‘cause I knew everything when I was young”

8/10. Johnrik rating: 8/10.

the last great american dynasty:

PERFECTION. Taylor really shows her gift for not just songwriting, but storytelling here. This is already one of my favourite songs from the album.

Favourite lyrics: “They say she was seen on occasion / pacing the rocks staring out at the midnight sea / and in a feud with her neighbor / she stole his dog and dyed it key lime green / fifty years is a long time / Holiday House sat quietly on that beach / free of women with madness / their men and bad habits, and then it was bought by me”

10/10. Johnrik rating: N/A, because it’s very specific but it’s also a fantastic song so I felt guilty giving 0/10.

exile (ft. Bon Iver):

I wasn’t that into this song but then Taylor started singing and WOW. It’s really good.

Favourite lyrics: “I never learned to read your mind | Never learned to read my mind / I couldn’t turn things around | You never turned things around / ‘cause you never gave a warning sign | I gave so many signs”

9/10. Johnrik rating: 10/10.

my tears richochet:

FUCK FUCK FUCK THIS IS LITERALLY SO JOHN @ HENRIK VIBES I’M GOING TO CRY.

This is also an absolutely stunning song with a brilliant concept behind it, and definitely a favourite. BUT FUCK THE LYRICS ARE SO JOHN’S GHOST HAUNTING HENRIK ARRRGHHHH.

Favourite lyrics: “And if I’m dead to you / why are you at the wake?” “I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace / and so the battleships will sink beneath the waves / you had to kill me, but it killed you just the same”

10/10. Johnrik rating: 10000/10.

mirrorball:

Another beautiful song and probably one I’ll have on repeat for a while yet. I could see this one being a really successful single.

Favourite lyrics: “Hush / when no one is around, my dear / you’ll find me on my tallest tiptoes / spinnin’ in my highest heels, love / shining just for you” “I’m still a believer but I don’t know why / I’ve never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try / I’m still on that trapeze, I’m still tryin’ everything / to keep you looking at me”

10/10. Johnrik rating: 8/10.

seven:

This song is lovely, but I’m not gonna lie, any song that uses childhood stuff as a metaphor always puts me off because it just makes my traumatised ass feel alienated.

Favourite lyrics: “And I’ve been meaning to tell you / I think your house is haunted / your dad is always mad and that must be why / and I think you should come live with me / and we can be pirates / then you won’t have to cry / or hide in the closet”.

I’ll give this a, fittingly, 7/10. Johnrik rating: 4/10.

august:

I like songs where Taylor does that breathy thing with her voice, so I automatically love this one. The lyrics are great too.

Favourite lyrics: “But I can see us lost in the memory / August slipped away into a moment in time / ‘cause it was never mine / and I can see us twisted in bedsheets / August sipped away like a bottle of wine / ‘cause you were never mine”

8/10. Johnrik rating: 7/10.

this is me trying:

This song is very sonically interesting - it sounds quite unique. So I like that.

It also resonates with me, really hard. Definitely going on my ‘songs to listen to when I’m sad’ playlist.

Favourite lyrics: “They told me all my cages were mental / so I got wasted like all my potential / and my words shoot to kill when I’m mad / I have a lot of regrets about that / I was so ahead of the curve that the curve became a sphere / fell behind all my classmates and I ended up here”

10/10 because I can relate so much to it. Johnrik rating: 6/10, I could see John singing this to Henrik.

illicit affairs:

Oh, HERE it is! The Gay Song of the album! Wondered when we were gonna get around to that. Some of Taylor’s songs, you can just tell are about women, and this is one of them.

Favourite lyrics: “Leave the perfume on the shelf / that you picked out just for him / so you leave no trace behind / like you don’t even exist / take the words for what they are / a dwindling, mercurial high / a drug that only worked / the first few hundred times”

9/10. Johnrik rating: also 9/10.

invisible string:

This is cute. I like it. Reminds me a lot of Paper Rings.

Favourite lyrics: “Bold was the waitress on our three-year trip getting lunch down by the lakes / she said I looked like an American singer”

7/10. Johnrik rating: 3/10.

mad woman:

I knew from the title my crazy-and-proud self was gonna LOVE this song. Spoiler: I love it. It’s like a stripped-down version of an Emilie Autumn song, that’s the sort of vibe it has. Also Taylor said “fuck” and it was brilliant.

Favourite lyrics: “Every time you call me crazy / I get more crazy / what about that? / and when you say I seem angry / I get more angry”

“And there’s nothing like a mad woman / what a shame she went mad / no one likes a mad woman / you made her like that / and you poked that bear ‘til her claws come out / and you find something to wrap your noose around / and there’s nothing like a mad woman”

“The master of spin / has a couple side flings / good wives always know / she should be mad / should be scathing like me / but no one likes a mad woman”

10/10, again because it means a lot to me. Johnrik rating: N/A. (Though if you wanted to get a Holby connection in there, you could probably spin it into a Jac song...)

epiphany:

This is a beautiful ballad, and the meaning behind it is lovely.

Favourite lyrics: “And some things you just can’t speak about”

9/10. Johnrik rating: N/A again.

betty:

I said ‘illicit affairs’ was the Gay Song. Nevermind. TAYLOR IS LITERALLY PUTTING OUT LOVE SONGS TO WOMEN AND NONE OF YOU GUYS ARE NOTICING. I know it’s written from the perspective of a male character, but still??

Favourite lyrics: “If I showed up at your party / Would you have me? Would you want me? / Would you tell me to go fuck myself, or lead me to the garden?”

8/10. Johnrik rating: Another N/A I’m afraid. Though I kind of like to imagine young!Henrik and Maja to this song, in an AU where he 1. came back to her after running away and 2. wasn’t probably too mentally ill to be a parent or hold down a steady relationship.

peace:

This is such a lovely song. The theme reminds me a bit of ‘In Love But Not At Peace’ by Dar Williams - though that one’s a much sadder take, this one has some hope to it.

Favourite lyrics: “But I’m a fire and I’ll keep your brittle heart warm / if your cascade ocean blue waves come / all these people think love’s for show / but I would die for you in secret / the devil’s in the details / but you’ve got a friend in me / would it be enough, if I could never give you peace?”

8/10. Johnrik rating: 7/10.

hoax:

OH HEY SHE JUST GOES AND CLOSES OUT THE ALBUM WITH ANOTHER JOHNRIK SONG. THERE GOES MY HEART. “Don’t want no other shade of blue, but you / no other sadness in the world would do”... that’s them alright. Fuck, I’m emotional.

Favourite lyrics: “This has frozen my ground / stood on the cliffside screaming ‘give me a reason’ / your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in”

10/10. Johnrik rating: also 10/10.

Overall album rating: 9/10.

#Taylor Swift #long post

[robronsecretsanta]

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

[bigskydreaming]

Why did (do?) the Magivians film you with rage?

Racism, homophobia and anti-survivors trifecta. They had an epic case of Bury Your Gays back in S1 where like, their gay character had to kill his new love interest in self-defense after that guy was possessed by the bad guy, and then when he was understandably upset afterwards because they’d made a point to hype this guy up as the first guy he’d ever had real feelings for, his friends were like boohoo get over it, which was like…swell, lol. Oh and then that same character ended up forced into a marriage with a woman for the sake of some fantasy kingdom he didn’t even give a shit about and was all of his friends’ quest way more than it was his, and only then did they decide to have him say a line about how he was mostly gay but was occasionally into women so bi a little bit even though he’d always ID’d as gay before then so it felt like a patch job to cover up the fact that they only belatedly realized oh hey forcing our gay lead into a hetero marriage he doesn’t want to be in is maybe Not A Good Look. 

Oh and I do remember catching a bit of a S2 episode where like, the gay character was throwing an orgy in the palace to make himself feel better for being stuck in fantasy land ruling over a fantasy kingdom he gave no fucks about and was bored and lonely in….only to get chewed out by his wife slash queen (a native inhabitant of fantasy kingdom) about how rapey and coercive that was and an abuse of his power as king because his subjects didn’t feel like they had the option of opting out. Which to be perfectly clear, is an absolutely valid point to make….BUT the fact remains that like, they chose to write in that angle, and they chose to make their gay character the one to learn that Important Lesson About Consent and Power Dynamics….but oh yeah, they ALSO chose to write this particular gay character as forced into oh yeah, a hetero marriage he did not ask for and clearly did not want, for the sake of mystic prophecy bullshit resulting from someone ELSE’S personal quest. And that was just….so…oblivious to me? Its like….ummm….could you not have the Straights educate The Pervy Deviant Gay on Consent Issues WHILST FORCING HIM INTO A HETERO MARRIAGE WITH ONLY HIS EXTREMELY RELUCTANT AND DUBIOUS CONSENT AT BEST??? Hellooooooooooooooo??

Then the racism side of the Awful triangle was like, their only two PoC in the first season (other than the blind black headmaster who was all kinds of Tropey ‘Cryptic and Thus Untrustworthy’ from the way the narrative was framed which, no, stop)….the only other two PoC in the first season and main cast were the girl who just so happened to be set up by the plot as the one revealed to be the ‘traitor’ or whatever who was there at the school under false pretenses and just stealing magic for other hedge witches. Like yes, she was under duress because they were threatening her mom I think? But I mean it was still like super predictable having her be the character that was put in that position and forced to fill that role. And then Penny, the man of color in the main cast, like, again I only watched the first season sporadically because I was like Nope every other episode and just skimmed in the hopes it would get better cuz everyone I knew kept raving about it, but I specifically remember one scene where like Penny was singled out by one of his teachers and told how he was super powerful like way more than any of his peers because he had like wild magic or something…BUT then the teacher went on to basically tell him this was more of a curse than a gift because his own power would eventually burn him out and destroy him or something like that. It was definitely framed as an inevitability, like, just his fate, a natural consequence to being the kind of magician he was innately…super powerful but with a shortened lifespan essentially as a trade off, with no way around that. 

And he was something like a Traveler, able to take himself and his friends between worlds? Which was great and super necessary for the plot but also a big part of what made his magic so destructive for him himself in the long run, so essentially the man of color got set up to be a glorified taxi cab for his white friends aka the LITERAL plot vehicle, with it announced to him very early on in the show that like ‘dont be too happy about how mad powerful you are, cuz its basically just gonna kill you way before all your friends end up biting it, sucks to be you kinda’. Again, this was early on in the show so I don’t know if that changed or they added more context to that later, but just the fact that his character in particular, like Kady’s, just so HAPPENED to be the one singled out for that particular plot niche and accompanying fate, like….that was fucking bogus from the jump.

Oh and also there was that really cool (in that not all sort of way) and totally not at all predictable (in that it totally was sorta way) antiblackness that reared its ugly head the second S2 introduced the oft-mentioned ‘barbarian kingdom’ that bordered Fantasy Land…..because hey guess whether or not the first appearance of more than one black person at a time on the show was when a whole bunch of black people showed up in S2 as oh yeah, you guessed it….the natives of the neighboring BARBARIAN Kingdom. Classy, Magicians. Way classy.

And then the anti-survivors angle of the Triangle of Suck, like, the show fucking HATES ‘bad survivors.’ You know, survivors who don’t embrace forgiveness and tra-la-la their way into the sunset and recovery while weaving daisy chains and leaving all their anger and thoughts of vengeance and retribution behind them in the past? Like, god forbid a survivor fucking HATE the person who hurt them and want to make them pay, which was essentially Julia’s S2 arc I believe? And boy was she fucking punished for that. Shit just got worse and worse for her, and it only got better when she decided to try the Healing Power of Forgiveness! Unlike one of her fellow survivors, raped by the same bastard who hurt her, who was also on the same Vengeance Quest as her, except she got murdered extremely graphically and painfully onscreen in like…narratively framed as a See Kids This Is Why Revenge Is Bad And You Should Not kinda way, that Julia was pretty clearly meant to learn from and Make Different Choices. 

Oh and let’s not forget that the initial antagonist of the series, the dreaded Beast who killed tons of people and was the one who possessed the gay guy that the other gay guy had to kill right after their makeout session in self defense cuz lol why would that be traumatic…yeah, that Beast…..let’s not forget that he was another Bad Survivor, a guy who was molested by one of the series’ Significant Backstory People years and years ago when he was just a kid. And thus he was pretty blatantly a case of Look How Stewing In Your Hate For What Happened To You Instead of Forgetting All Your Worries and Your Strife Will ABSOLUTELY Turn You Into A Literal Monster Who Murders People and Is Evil and Bad And Must Be Slain For the Good of Alllllll the Land.

And there was actually a lot more than just that because Survivors was a definite Thing on the show, with lots of them showing up and established as being survivors in various ways and almost all of them like….being the focus of the series like….perpetual hard on for torture and torturous death scenes for various satellite characters. Like don’t get me wrong, the series pretty much kills people left and right, its just it weirdly just so happens that the first people standing in line to either the left or the right tended to be PoC, women, survivors, gay/bi characters or characters who lucked out and got to be all of the above for the handful of scenes before they met their untimely ‘Wouldn’t Wish It On My Worst Enemy Let Alone On My Or Any Friend of Mine’s Only Representation On This Show’ demise.

Anyway, yeah I hate that show and it dinged all my NOPE alarms hard from day one and I kept checking back in on it over the first season and then a little bit off and on after that in the hopes it had gotten better because I kept fucking hearing all over twitter and tumblr how amazing it was and progressive it was and I’d watch the latest episode, jump up, yank my hair out and screech like a gibbon monkey while speaking in tongues and asking the universe to help explain to me what the fuck was I missing here, where was all this lauded Progressivism I was supposed to be taking away from all the miserable, tortured and murdered  - and also abused, raped and exploited  - PoC and occasional white gays or women tossed in to round out the variety pack??!?! Just did not see it, at all, Error 404 Not Found, Did Not Compute, and then I’d hop back on tumblr and see people raving about the same stuff that just whipped me into a frothing rage and I’d be like I DONT UNDERSTAND WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE WHAT IS GOING ON ARE WE USING THE SAME WORDS OR DO I NOT KNOW WHAT THE WORDS MEAN CORRECTLY OR….

Ugh. Yeah. So like I said….nooooot a fan. And also, fans of the show plz don’t @ me if I got things mixed up there or inaccurately remembered a scene I referenced, I’m not claiming to have perfect recall of a show that was actively pissing me off while I watched it and thus I was kinda TRYING not to pay full attention to. I just know that I definitely got a full helping of racism, homophobia and anti-survivor bullshit in SOME form or another from each and every episode I did watch. I freely admit that like, I’m not necessarily describing or denoting the actual things that pissed me off or registered that way to me, like.. for sure accurately here….again, I haven’t watched the show at all in a couple years and I’m not trying to be like This Is Definitely What Happened In This Scene and This Scene. Its more just one of those things where like, I definitely remember these are reasons I hated the show and I’ve put a lot of effort into NOT thinking about it or remembering it, so this is just how that jumbled mess all came out right now while trying to sort through it all and remember specific instances of the Triangle of Suck that made me rage so hard. There’s a reason I’ve never gone around actively engaging in Magicians Discourse or encouraging people not to watch it, lol, I don’t claim to be an expert on it or to have taken extensive notes of my Rage Reasons at the time of watching. Just that like….they were definitely there, and this was the general vicinity of the ones I can think of off the top of my head. 

#Anonymous #rape cw #antiblackness cw #racism cw #vague seasons old magicians spoilers I guess? #idk #whats the statute of limitations on those idek

[sarkastically]

prompt 16 and spiritassassin please!

(Modern Spiritassassin AU. Cloyingly sentimental. I’m so sorry for all the fluff. Vague, generalized background homophobia but nothing explicit.)

16. Roses are red, Violets are blue, You can do whatever you want to me. (please do.)

It starts as a joke. It starts because Jyn, in her flat direct Jyn way, asks a simple question, “Do you guys have anything planned for Valentine’s Day?” It means nothing. It is just idle chitchat from her lips, a random question that has more to do with a date on the calendar than anything else. This is Jyn. Who does not pry because she does not really know what to do with personal information anyway, certainly doesn’t want it. No, Jyn would rather someone ask her for help fixing their car than ask her for help with a personal crisis. Jyn does not want to see tears. Jyn does not want to know about the disquietude that sometimes haunts people alone at night when the darkness makes the inside of the soul rattle and shake like a tree limb against a window pane in fall when the wind is high.

Jyn doesn’t want to know because hearing about other people makes her examine the broken pieces inside of herself, and that has never been her goal. Don’t linger. Don’t stick. Move on. Shove it aside. Move on. Lock it up. Lock it away. Go to the next thing, next name, next job, next apartment, next town. Never settle anywhere for long.

Except that she has been here for nine months, two weeks and five days already and not one fiber of her body is demanding that she leave yet. In another town, with other people, this would be disquieting, it would bother her. As it is, though, she feels something she has not felt in a very long time. She feels calm. It’s not happiness, but that’s fine. Jyn doesn’t think she would know that even if it came to her door with a sign around it’s neck to proclaim its name, blasting some obnoxious song through the speakers of a boombox, swearing undying love; she would probably just close the door in its face to drown out all the noise. This is contentment, and it’s okay. It’s fine. It calms her when she wakes in the middle of the night feeling like there’s a hand at her throat and the desire to pack in her bones. She just breaths, the way Chirrut taught her, and it settles, she can sleep.

It’s fucking weird, but it’s not unpleasant.

She learns to make chitchat the way other people do. She asks about holiday plans the way other people do. People with ties, people with friends, people who finally allow themselves to care. This is part of the process of integrating into a group, after all.

And Baze, who recognizes this for what it is, a hand held out, a first grasping attempt at normal everyday friendships cannot deny her because that might send her hurtling through the night without so much as a goodbye, beating her steady way onward on her broken bird wings. So even though he really doesn’t want to get into it, doesn’t like sharing, as content with being quiet and working on physical things as Jyn herself normally is, he decides that he will answer. Only because it is important; only because it is Jyn.

Later, when they are home curled around each other on the couch while Chirrut reads with his fingers and hums and Baze sketches, he knows that Chirrut will grin and tease him about this, claim that Baze is just as big of a softie as ever, that he bends over backwards for the kids he hires to work at the bakery, that he isn’t fooling anyone with his gruff bear routine. And Baze will just grumble, like said gruff bear, and pull Chirrut into his lap to hush his mouth with kisses because that is the best and normally only way to win an argument with his partner. Chirrut, of course, is right, but Baze is loathe to admit it, which they both know, though it never stops him from trying to wrangle it out of him one way or another.

Jyn clears her throat pointedly even as her hands flash through the process of cutting the large mound of beige dough into small sections waiting to be shaped. Neither Baze nor Jyn work the counter; they exist in the press of hot air filled with yeast and sugar and flour behind the kitchen door. They wander around the machinery, old and loud but much loved, each and every one of the pieces as liable to break as to work, but it’s okay because between the two of them they have found that they can fix anything. Jyn coaxes metal gears back into grinding away by first shouting profanities at them and then plying them with sweet words while Baze can completely strip out and rebuild the stand mixer’s inner workings in a few hours. Things break but nothing ever breaks for long or forever.

Baze sighs, dipping a spoon into the buttercream to taste, asses the texture and the flavor. He starts with base recipes but never follows them, tosses them aside to play the mad scientist–Chirrut’s words, always said in a sing song tone and with that bright tooth smile on his face that means he is proud, full of it, ready to burst with it like a balloon inflated too much–and adjusts things on the fly, makes one of a kind creations that will never been seen again. It’s why their bakery is so popular, especially with the younger crowd who post and tweet and hashtag them. Baze tries to be gruff and grumble about it all, but he can’t find it in him. He loves watching them flock to the store with their brightly colored hair and piercings, lines of ink dotting their skin, dressed in their ever-changing fashions, preening for each other and themselves, sometimes just so dismissive of the lingering, withering looks angled their way by the older self-proclaimed sensible customers. Chirrut whispers that half of it is because Baze sees himself in these children, finds the streak of their own rebellion waving at him from perfectly shaped undercuts, a welcoming hello in every Pride flag shirt or piece of jewelry, every anarchy tattoo, every blue mohawk, and half because Baze has always been soft at the edges when it comes to children, always wanted to protect them.

Always wanted them.

And, even though he led himself there, that revelation will make Chirrut sigh sadly and wander away for his meditation, all crossed legs and closed eyes and murmurs that Baze can hear and feel in every inch of their shop when he presses his hands against something or when he toes his shoes off to stand barefoot on the floor, which is a bad practice in the kitchen but still something he indulges in occasionally. Chirrut has always filled every space that he enters, sinks into the very bones of buildings as though he is some sort of spirit, miring himself into wood and metal, leaving pieces of himself behind in everything without ever diminishing himself. It is just another wondrous trick he can do.

They never talk about adoption anymore because it only upsets both of them; Chirrut more than him because Chirrut thinks it is his fault because of his blindness as much as because they are two gay Chinese men living in a college town that is still slightly on the backwards side, running a bakery that is popular with one portion of the population and is boycotted by another faction of the town who only sees them as having some sort of agenda.

Baze’s only agenda is to make delicious things and through that to make people happy, especially Chirrut. Chirrut’s agenda is to protect Baze’s heart from the arrows and the stones thrown by the very people he tries to please. Sometimes both of them fail all day. So they pick back up and try again on the next.

And sometimes, when it is very bad, Baze wonders why they don’t leave. Then the door will chime, and he will hear the voices of the students, the ones that he knows, the ones that come every single day, and he will remember. Brightly colored hair, tattoos, leather jackets with patches about NASA and peace and love being stronger than hate. Hope. Hope will cross the threshold, and it is enough to sustain him. Again. Probably always.

No, they have no children of their own, but they have the small clutch of young people that Baze hires and inevitably cares for, takes under his wing, gets strangely dad-like about. Chirrut does as well, though he hides it better, carries it in the sleeves of his robes, tucked up inside them as though nestled into pockets, only taken out when they have need of him. Like how he taught Jyn to meditate because she was a vibrating wire about to snap at every instant or how he has been working with Bodhi who still stutters and get flustered when there are too many people in the shop, the clamor becoming too much for him sometimes. They have each other to care for, and this long line of students, workers and patrons alike.

It is enough.

Just Chirrut would be enough, which is something that Baze whispers in the dark sometimes when he goes upstairs to find Chirrut hunkered, praying, all the lights out, their apartment so quiet and still that Baze wonders whether he has walked into another world altogether. Until Chirrut smiles at him, and every light in the universe shines. Just for him.

Jyn makes the noise that means she thinks she is being dismissed or ignored and the shuck of metal through dough grows louder as she works. It rouses Baze from his thoughts, which can be a long tunnel he gets lost in, a deep ocean where he can linger forever. He shakes his head and puts the tasting spoon aside, adds slightly more lemon juice and powdered sugar and bright pieces of crystallized ginger to the buttercream, talks as he folds the ingredients in to achieve the perfect consistency. “Valentine’s is busy. There are always custom orders and demands for cakes and cookies and things.” Too much time needing to be spent to make the day wonderful for everyone else.

“So. Nothing then?” There is something in her voice now, something beyond her normally flat affect, which unnerves some people but never bothers Baze, that flashes like a hidden knife in the gleam of the sun. And then it passes. “It’s just some stupid commercial holiday anyway.” With that Jyn begins to shape the bread loaves, one after the other, quickly but with care because Jyn often comes off as a raincloud about to burst but there is sunlight within, unsure of how exactly to escape.

They settle back into the companionable silence of the kitchen, which is never actually quiet because the machines run and tick around them, but all of that becomes background noise after a while, a wall of comforting, known sound like a heavy blanket to soothe the senses. As Baze frosts the cupcakes with the buttercream, he wonders. They have never done anything to mark Valentine’s Day, and he cannot remember why, cannot recall whether this was intentional or just something that happened. It has never meant much to him. Baze takes care to ensure that Chirrut knows the depth of his affection each and every single day. The idea of just one day to mark that idea is odd, too simple, an easy out. When he was younger, he might have chalked this up to their brand of being anti-establishment, but he is older now, more sentimental as Chirrut likes to tease him, and he wonders.

When he slips out of the kitchen door, a quick excuse thrown over his shoulder at Jyn, she only smiles at him as if she knows, as if this has all been a ploy, some plot, and he wouldn’t put it past her and Chirrut to be in cahoots over something, but Baze cannot allow himself to linger on that or it will eclipse his forward momentum and mire him back in the kitchen. Baze is not Chirrut; he does not shift gears as quickly, and he must let his impetus carry him while it exists or find himself stranded, unable to move, stuck.

A week later, he presents the gift. The first Valentine’s Day gift he has ever given Chirrut. It is just a bear. Nothing fancy. No flowers or chocolates or jewelry because their life has always been simple, and Chirrut loves the confections he makes more than any commercial chocolate available. It is just a bear, but it talks when its belly is pressed, in Baze’s voice, in Baze’s deep, wandering river, earth moving Mandarin because it is just for them, after all. It says something silly that Chirrut once found on the internet and laughed about for three hours, which Baze remembers because he loves to hear Chirrut like that, voice breaking from being out of breath because of glee for such an extended period of time.

“Roses are red, violets are blue. You can do whatever you want to me. Please do,” the bear intones in Mandarin when Chirrut plucks it from Baze’s hands.

Baze had blushed the entire time while trying to record it even though the employee at the store obviously had no idea what was happening, what he was saying, but she was kind enough and patient enough to help him make the attempt six times before it was right, before his voice did not waver in an unwelcome way. He can only look down while his listens to the mechanical play of his voice from the bear, but he can feel Chirrut’s smile through the floor, leeching into the boards and travelling through the grain to his bare feet.

“Anything?” Chirrut asks, his Mandarin always cleaner and crisper than Baze’s own, clear indications of their upbringings that only they know how to parse in this town, and that is when Baze allows himself to look up, to find his partner’s eyes, veiled and turned just a hair away from where he stands but close enough because Chirrut is very good at this by now.

“Yes,” Baze answers, mind spinning through all the things that Chirrut might ask of him, each of them dear and wonderful and welcome. He is on the verge of apologizing for the silly gift, for its sentimentality, for caving to societal capitalistic pressure; Chirrut’s smile stops him, it speaks of something else, and he wonders again whether Jyn’s question was not just idle talk at all, whether it was part of something bigger.

He gets his answer when Chirrut, bear tucked lovingly under one arm, starts fishing through his pockets until he finds a small wooden box, which he holds out in Baze’s general direction. “This. This is what I want.”

Baze recognizes the box, knows what lingers inside, a titanium band with rose gold running through the middle like a river. He has seen it before, and he told Chirrut to wait because he was worried about the world around them, concerned about political climate and family and. He hurt Chirrut’s feelings, soundly enough that he worried it might break them asunder, though it didn’t. He hasn’t seen the box since. And now there it is, on Chirrut’s palm, presented back to him, and Baze agreed to anything. Baze has never been a man who backs out of promises.

“Baze,” Chirrut’s voice is strong as steel, but Baze can hear the way it wavers, the slight dip of concern that dances across his tongue because it tickles the soles of his feet through the floor. “Will you marry me?”

When Chirrut had asked the first time, both of them barely older than twenty-five, Baze’s heart and throat had clenched so hard that he thought he might die from the fear. There is none of that now. There is just the light of Chirrut’s smile invading his entire body, and the calmness he feels surrounded by the kitchen machine noises. There is the smell of ginger and yeast that permeates the entire building always like Chirrut’s mantras, which he thinks have soaked into the walls such that they would play back like a record if he rubbed his hand over them. Nothing here scares him, nothing here worries him not even the looks they sometimes get on the street, the disdainful ones. They are so few these days.

Baze closes the distance between them, hand folding over the box and Chirrut’s fingers in the same grasp even as his other arm wraps around him, pulls him snugly against him, pulls him into a kiss that is just as ardent as any they shared when they were young and could barely contain their desire for one another. Kissing Chirrut is always like this, like a match being struck throughout his entire body. When he pulls away, his breathing is ragged like he has been running.

“You haven’t answered me.”

“Did you entice Jyn into helping you?”

“You haven’t answered me.”

“You haven’t either.”

“I asked first.”

Their back and forth is nothing new, all the words soaking into the building around them, and Baze hopes that structures carry on the light and souls of the people who lived inside them once they are gone because he needs to know that pieces of Chirrut will continue to be bright and infuriating even when he can no longer be that himself. He wants to think that there will be a patch of earth wherein he and Chirrut’s loving bickering continues forever, a recording to ease or haunt the next people who claim it as their own.

They answer in unison because their hearts have always beat together, “Yes.”

#spiritassassin #modern spiritassassin #Anonymous #sara's fic #sara's drabbles #otp: i don't need luck #otp: i am one with the Force #otp: i protected you

[rejectedusername-trashfics]

Madness is Contagious: Chapter 10- Reign Ended

Summary: After the Mad King is put back in jail, one of two his nieces is appointed CEO of Monarch Labs. The niece seems disinterested in the company, but in keen on figuring out how to cure her uncle’s madness. His other niece wants to keep the madness alive. After an attempt at a cure goes aerie, the madness is transferred to Vav. X-Ray ends up getting captured along with the new CEO niece. Will Hilda, Rusty, and the sane King be able to make things go back to normal? 

Chapter: 10/10

Word Count: 2,004

First / Previous / AO3

The group made their way to the CEO’s office. While they had hoped for a surprise attack, Mad Princess and Pyro had completely expected them. Hilda still was awestruck by the kiss, but Rusty and Ryan called her over to join them. Meanwhile, X-Ray and ‘Monster Truck’ had headed over to fight Pyro.

“Ah, yes. I see you’ve decided to attempt to have a final stand,” Mad Princess taunted.

“Rose,” Ryan started. “This is all a bunch of nonsense. You followed ‘Mad King’, but you never knew how to lead villainous tirades on your own. This isn’t going to work for you, so please just stop before this gets more out of hand.”

“You’re not the king anymore. NOW ITS TIME FOR MY CORONATION AS QUEEN!” she yelled at the end.

“I don’t like where this is going,” Hilda commented, warily.

Mad Princess’s eyes started glowing dark green. “You are a peasant of the Mad Princess. You shall bow down,” she commanded.

Ryan’s eyes whited out. “I am a peasant of the Mad Princess,” Ryan repeated in a monotone voice as he bowed down.

“Crap,” Rusty panicked as he quickly put a tinfoil hat on.

“Don’t just make one for yourself! Make one for Ryan!” Hilda yelled. Then he turned to face Mad Princess. “I’ll take care of her.”

“You’re not going to fight me because you are going to bow to me as well,” Mad Princess commanded Hilda. Hilda ignored the command and began to shot lasers out of her palms at the princess. “Why isn’t that working on you? You can’t be a very good scientist if you don’t have a mind.”

“ORF_Suit.EXE was fitted with tinfoil layer to prevent mind control,” ORF announced.

“We’ve been through something like this before, so ‘proper precautions were made’,” Hilda taunted to explain.

“GGGGGGRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!” Mad Princess growled in response.

Rusty quickly made a new tinfoil hat and put it on Ryan’s head. “Uggh, what the hell?” Ryan asked as he came back to it and got up off of the floor. “Did I do something idiotic?”

“Mind control does make people do idiotic things,” Rusty explained.

“Oh, goddammit.”

Back where Mad Princess and Hilda were fighting, the princess pulled out her own laser-ray gun. “Did you really think that you were the only one with laser projectiles?” Mad Princess asked as she shot at Hilda.

Hilda quickly dodged out of the way and the laser ended up being aimed at Ryan. He didn’t notice on time and was shot. “SSSSSSHHHHHIIIIIITTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!” he screamed as he flew into the wall.

“Crap,” Hilda panicked as she ran to go check if he was okay.

“Do you have no empathy for your family?” Rusty asked in response to what he just witnessed.

“He’s a weakling now. I have no use for him, so why dos it even matter?” Mad Princess answered.

“I’m not quite dead yet!” Ryan yelled. Hilda nodded and ran back over to continue her fight.

On the other side of the room, X-Ray and Monster Truck had begun their fight with Pyro. “You’re not even strong enough to confront me on your own. How pathetic of you.” Pyro taunted further.

X-Ray paused to consider that. “He’s not a weakling, I’m just here so I can help fix things,” Monster Truck argued.

“What, did the last-ditch effort of save the ‘girlfriend character’ make you want to show him how to not be a pathetic asshole?”

X-Ray snapped out of his train of thought. “Monster Truck, I’ll distract him. You do… something with your powers.”

Monster Truck nodded and shrunk down. “Aww, what this? X-Ray making a plan? What, is he actually trying to be responsible for himself for once?” Pyro mocked.

X-Ray got into his battle position. “ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS!” he yelled as began to shoot lasers.

Pyro dodged out of the way and sent a large stream of fire towards X-Ray to get him to stop firing lasers. “Your laser eyes are no match for my flames. MUHAHAHAHHAHA,” Pyro stopped his maniacal laugh and began squirming. “What the bloody hell?” he asked as he began to try and reach for something on his back. Then, he slammed his back onto the floor and picked something off of the floor. He kicked it very hard and Monster Truck grew back to his normal size as he flew through the air.

“MONSTER TRUCK, NO!” X-Ray yelled.

Pyro walked over to X-Ray. “Well, that had a zero percent success rate, just as your plans normally do.”

“I thought you would at least believe in me.”

“You’re not worth believing in.”

Meanwhile, Hilda and Mad Princess had backed their fight into a corner. “It’s a shame that all your efforts on this fight will be for naut. You can’t win and nobody can help you.” Mad Princess mocked as she shot her ray-gun.

Hilda dodged out of the way. “I can have help if I need it. It would be much appreciated.”

Rusty nodded as soon as he realized she was referring to him. He grabbed and box full of tools and ran over to the fight. “They wouldn’t even know how to,” Mad Princess was cut off by Rusty hitting her over the side of the head, knocking her out.

Hilda gave him a look. “What? I wanted to actually be useful in a physical fight this time.” Rusty argued.

Ryan had joined Poppy on the floor, recovering from his laser shot. “While I’m not happy you hit my niece,” then Ryan sighed, “I AM happy you knocked out Mad Princess.”

Back in the other fight, Pyro had grabbed X-Ray by the neck. “I will save my princess, but I need to burn something first,” Pyro announced.

“I… thought that stupid reporter chick way your princess.” X-Ray choked out.

“Ash is not my princess anymore and you’ll never get the princess you desire.”

“You don’t know that. Maybe when I… defeat you… she’ll realize that I’m awesome… and hot.”

Poppy sat up more on the other side of the room and groaned. “I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!” she yelled.

“Poppy,” Ryan started in an attempt to calm her down.

“I’VE NEVER HAD ANY INTEREST IN A GUY LIKE THAT BECAUSE I LIKE GIRLS!” she yelled to admit.

X-Ray’s eyes widened. “…What?”

“I’M A HUGE LESBIAN!!!!!!”

Pyro smirked. “And you were too stupid and blind to see it.”

X-Ray looked down, sadly. Then he thought about something and looked back up, narrowing his eyes. “You know… a friend would be there for his friend when he got devastating news... and believe in his planning attempts,” he said as he began to raise his fists.

“Good thing I’m not your friend.”

“MAYBE, I WANT MY FRIEND BACK!” he yelled as he swung his fist and punched Pyro in the nose.

Pyro released him and grabbed his nose, “OW” he yelped in pain.

“Your nose always has been a pretty big target, Vav.”

“I’m not Vav!”

X-Ray used his lasers to melt Pyro’s shoes to the floor. “Well, I want Vav back!” X-Ray yelled one more time as he punched Pyro again, knocking him out.

Ryan and Poppy got up off of the floor. Monster Tuck got up from where he landed as well. he made his hands grow very large and he took hold of Mad Princess. “I’m proud of you, X-Ray. You learned some self -confidence. I’m glad you learned how to be stronger on your own,” Poppy congratulated.

X-Ray looked at Poppy. “And, you’re gay.”

Poppy sighed. “Yeah, I’m gay.”

Ryan had gone over Pyro and took his shoes off and pulled him off of the floor. “Jeremy, tie up Mad Princess. Poppy go get your sanity ray,” he instructed. Monster Truck nodded and began to tie Mad Princess up

Poppy looked up at him, confused. “Uncle Ryan, what are you doing?”

Ryan grabbed Pyro and held him close. “I want you to make Vav sane again.”

“But, but,” a tear rolled down her face. “You’ll be the ‘Mad King’ again.”

“It’s okay. It’s been nice being a good guy again, these past few days. But the city needs its heroes more than it needs Dr. Haywood, right now.” Poppy sniffled in response. “You’ll get that sanity ray right, eventually. I believe in you.”

Poppy nodded in response and grabbed her sanity and aimed it at Ryan and Pyro. “Goodbye, Uncle Ryan.”

“See you, sweetheart.”

Poppy gulped and shot her sanity ray. The ray enveloped Ryan and Pyro. After a minute, Ryan dropped Pyro to the floor and laughed manically. “Mad King’s back!” Monster Truck finished tying Mad Princess up and grew, quickly to grab Mad King. He growled in response.

Poppy walked over to Mad King and touched his face. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it right, one day,” she said, fondly. Mad King began to yell angrily.

“Poppy?” Hilda called out to get her attention. Poppy turned to see her and went to walk up to her. Hilda gave her an up and down look. “You kissed me.”

Poppy sighed. “Yeah…”

“Then you admitted you are a lesbian.”

“Yeah… I have been my whole life. And… I’ve kinda had a big crush on you ever since I met you.”

“Look, I’m sorry but I’m not into you like that.”

Poppy sighed again “I… kinda figured. And that’s okay, you don’t have to. I was very wrong of me to kiss you without your consent. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“As long as you’re not going to force me into anything.” Hilda paused for a minute, then thought of something else. “Actually, I just thought of the best way you can earn my forgiveness.”

“Anything!”

“You let me help you with thee sanity ray this time.”

“I’d love that… PLATONICALLY!”

Hilda smiled, she knew everything was going to be alright.

Vav woke up on the floor. “Wot the bloody toss happened?” he asked.

X-Ray smiled. “Good to have you back Vav. Can you stand?”

Vav tried to stand up, but he wobbled a bit. X-Ray and Monster Truck ran over to help him up. They walked him over to Mad Princess, who was waking up.

“What the fuck!!? WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?!?” Mad Princess screamed.

“You’re going to jail, Rose,” Monster Truck answered. Mad Princess screamed more, in response.

Vav looked at Monster Truck with curiosity. “And, who ae you?” he asked.

“Here, I go by Monster Truck.”

“He’s the guy who helped me fight evil you.”

“Oh,” Vav said sadly. “But maybe we have another good superhero this time,” he suggested, hopefully.

“Actually,” Monster Truck started. “I’m not really cut out for the whole superhero business anymore. I think I’d rather stay at my dead-end retail job as a civilian. And since I am a civilian, you guys can just call me, Jeremy.”

“Well, thanks for not trying to show us up,” X-Ray thanked.

“Hey, out of curiosity, could you actually get the love interest you wanted?” Vav asked, ignoring Mad Princess’s screams.

“Turns out I’m not her type. And I’m kinda okay with that, since I don’t want to BE what her type is,” X-Ray answered, honestly.

“You’ll get a love interest eventually,” Jeremy encouraged.

“Eh, I think I’ll just focus on saving the city for now.”

“Now, that’s what I like to here,” Vav cheered.

“You ready to get back out there?”

“You know it!”

“X-RAY AND VAV!” the two of them yelled as they bumped their junk together. Then they ran out of the office to go back to fighting crime in the city.

“This has got to be what a proud parent feels like,” Rusty commented.

Hilda sighed and smiled. “I guess it’s time to clean everything up again.” Poppy snorted a little bit more pollen to use the plants to tie up Mad King and drag him away. Jeremy pulled out his cell and dragged Mad Princess out of the office. Everything was going to be right in the city again. Just like it was all supposed to be in the end.

#madness is contagious #xray and vav #fanfic #rt fanfic