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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

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Tattletale | (dark)stepbrother!Sam Wilson x reader

summary: your step-brother was kind enough to let you stay at his apartment just off-campus when you began your freshman year of college where he was a senior. unfortunately, his kindness ran out when he learned about your secret side-hustle.

word count: 4.7k

warnings: smut!! (noncon/heavy dubcon and stepcest, they’re not biologically related but were raised from adolescence as siblings), facefucking, slapping, choking, degradation, coercion, DP (with a toy), anal play, possessive behavior, unprotected creampie, lots of crying/implied dacryphilia

this is a dark fic containing triggering topics, please do not read if this would be triggering for upsetting for you in any way.

Your step-brother (and roommate… and technically your landlord) wasn’t usually home when you got back from your Econ class, so you jumped a bit when you saw him nursing a beer in your shared living room; apparently, he was waiting for you.

“Hey, Sammy,” you greeted sheepishly, suddenly feeling self-conscious when his eyes raked over your body— it was hot out, so you just had on a tank top and cut-off shorts, but now you wish you’d covered up more.

“Hey,” he nodded back, setting the beer down and leaning back on the couch, “you got time to talk for a minute?”

His tone made you a little nervous, but his casual body language set you at ease. He probably just wanted to ask if you could stay somewhere else over the weekend so he could have a girl over, or maybe he needed your help with one of his more difficult assignments— though frankly, you probably couldn’t help much with a senior-level project. “Sure,” you shrugged, setting your backpack down and slipping off your shoes to join him on the couch. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, really, I just feel like we don’t talk as much as we used to,” he explained with a little sigh. Something about the way he glanced to the side for a moment made you wonder if he was being completely transparent. “Remember when we were younger and we talked all the time? Or when I moved away to start here and we called every day? I miss that…”

You smiled a little, moving closer on the couch to rest your hand on his. “Me too,” you admitted. “I just figured you saw me as your annoying little sister.”

“I do,” he laughed, “but, you know, we used to be really close! You used to tell me everything. And now… now I don’t think you tell me everything.”

Your suspicion that this was more directed than he let on was growing, but you wanted to be close again, too, so you let it continue. “Well, we’re older now so it’s not quite the same…”

“I guess it’s normal for siblings to grow apart when they’re adults, but, I don’t know… I guess I just didn’t see it coming with us. And now that I’m letting you live here I thought it would be like old times; to be honest, that was part of why I had you move in in the first place.”

Just as you started to shift away, he flipped his hand and grabbed your wrist, stopping you from pulling away. “Sammy,” you whispered in shock, leaning back as much as you could even as he moved in closer.

“I think it’s the least you can do to be honest with me, sis,” he hissed.

“I— I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you protested, your gut sinking in fear of being reprimanded by him. He was so friendly 99% of the time, but you were still terrified of those few memories you had of him getting angry with you. Disappointing him was one of your greatest fears.

Sam laughed, but he didn’t exactly seem amused. “Stop playing dumb, honey, I think you know what this is about.”

“I… I don’t…” you stammered, your heart dropping further when he reached for his phone.

“Got a text from Steve today,” he explained as he unlocked it. “Wanna guess what it was?”

You swallowed dryly, more sure than ever that it was what you dreaded most. “I don’t know, Sam…”

“I’ll give you a hint,” he grimaced, reading something from the screen. “Kinky virgin horny for cock, 18, freshman at NYU.”

You looked away but he instantly grabbed your face and turned you to look at him. “You know, I let you live here while you were in college so you could get an education. Not be a fucking slut. Did you think I wouldn’t find your OnlyFans? Steve found it first, god knows what he did with these pictures before he sent them to me. Is this what you wanted? Any guy— even a guy we know— to get off to these pictures?”

Your shoulders slumped and your chest deflated as you started to cry. “I’m s-so sorry, Sammy—”

“Don’t call me that,” he sneered. “How stupid are you? Did you think these would stay private? Guys trade these all the time, they’re never secret for long. How long have you been doing this, huh? Must’ve been a while considering the sheer magnitude of content. Looks like your first post was on your 18th birthday— Jesus fucking Christ, you couldn’t wait a minute could you? I was there that day… when did you sneak off to take this little number, huh?”

You didn’t want to look as he turned the phone to you, but his hand tight around your wrist was a reminder not to struggle too hard. You remembered taking the photo, and it had been during your party. The idea of how wrong it would be to strip down in your parent’s bathroom to snap a picture in the mirror had only been more encouraging at the time. For some reason you hadn’t considered that someone would find it; you cringed at the idea that Steve saw you entirely nude, let alone your brother. It was humiliating.

“And what about this one, huh? How fucking slutty are you?” he spat, pulling up another picture and shoving the phone in your face as you were confronted with the image of you on your bed with your legs spread, fingers toying with your clit. “You really don’t leave anything to the imagination.”

“Sam, I didn’t— you weren’t supposed to—”

“Just stop talking. I can barely look at you right now,” he shook his head. “This stuff is seriously depraved, sis. The idea of all these guys drooling all over my little sister… and you actually encouraged them, the fuck is wrong with you?”

Tears poured down your face, and you felt like the anger radiating off of him would burn your skin somehow.

“And don’t give me some stupid fucking sob story about how you’re doing this to pay for school when I know damn well that mom and dad pay for your classes and I pay your fucking rent. You didn’t do it for money; you did it for fun. You did it ‘cause you’re a shameless fucking slut.”

“‘M not,” you denied, “Sam, really— I’m still a virgin, I don’t— you know I don’t do that.”

“You just fantasize about it. And chat with strangers online about it. And make videos going on and on about how bad you wanna get fucked.”

You shuddered as you realized: “You watched one of my videos?”

He grinned and pulled you closer. “Baby… I watched all of them.”

Completely at a loss for words, you silently tried to squirm away only for him to wrap his other arm around you and pull you closer, ignoring your sobs of fear and confusion.

“You’re actually sorta talented, for a dumb little virgin who had no idea what she’s getting herself into,” he purred against your ear, starting to push up your tank top.

“N-no,” you whimpered, “Sam, stop— I’m sorry. I’ll delete the account, I’m sorry.”

“Too late for apologies, little sis,” he cooed, “it’s not just the account. It’s that you made those posts from my apartment, you took those pictures in the room that I gave you. Not to mention the way you walk around in these tight clothes, teasing me just because you can. This goes way deeper than a few dirty pictures, sweetheart, and you know it.”

When you tried to wriggle away again, he seemed to exert nearly no effort at all to be able to spin you around and pull you down into his lap, where the shape of his hard cock pressing against your ass was obvious. “Sam, s-stop, this isn’t funny.”

“Damn right it isn’t funny, I’m dead fucking serious,” he growled against your ear. “What was it that you said in your most recent video, the one where you were wearing a collar and using that gaudy pink vibe on your clit? ‘I need your cock to ruin my hole, daddy’... am I remembering that right?”

Hesitantly, you nodded, and he laughed darkly against your ear as he pulled your hips into his.

“Say it, then. Like you said it in the video.”

“Sam, no—”

“No?” he repeated incredulously. “You can’t say no to me, honey. Cause if you do, I’m gonna send all these pictures and videos to mom and dad, tell them all about how their precious little angel is selling her ass on the Internet with the phone they pay for and the laptop they bought. What are they gonna say to that? Think they’ll take you back after that, let you stay with them when I kick you out? As if. So unless you think one of these creeps online is gonna give you a place to stay, seems like I’m your only option.”

You choked on a sob as you cried harder, hating that he was right.

“So you need to start doing what you’re told, or you’re gonna end up doing a lot worse with someone much less generous than me, got it?”

Terrified of him but unable to imagine the alternative, you nodded.

“Then. Fucking. Say it.”

“I…” you began, sounding weak and weepy compared to the original video you were quoting, “I need your cock… to ruin my hole… daddy.”

“Eh, needs improvement but it’s a start,” he shrugged, throwing you down onto the couch and climbing on top of you. When you tried to protest, or at least turn around to face him, he slapped your ass harshly and it stung even through the denim shorts. “I have needs too, sis. Can’t hardly get any when you’re here all damn day being a fucking cockblock. And frankly, since you started dressing like this and acting like a whore, I haven’t even been able to think about anybody else… can’t get hard for anyone but my slutty little sister.”

He leaned down to press his body against yours, pinning you against the cool leather by your shoulders.

“Steve told me about your account weeks ago, babe… I’ve been getting off to your cute little pictures ever since.”

It made you wince, but it made him laugh. Shame and fear and disgust swirled in your gut and made you nauseous, his grip on you tight enough to leave a bruise as he dug his fingertips into your skin. When he sat back up, he started pulling at your jean shorts roughly, ripping them slightly as he shoved them down to your thighs.

“Wow, look at this pretty little ass,” he groaned. “A thousand guys have seen it, but it’s better in person.” He slapped you again on either cheek, hard enough to make you yelp. “What’s the matter, sis, I thought you liked being spanked? You talk about it all the time. You talk about how you want me to spank you raw and leave marks all over your body, hurt you and break you and claim you.”

“I— I wasn’t talking about you,” you defended, remembering how you always addressed the viewer when dirty talking in your videos, but keeping it generic enough that any guy could imagine it was him.

“Then who did you think about when you got off? Who was it that got you wet for your videos?” he pressed. “Because you’re wet right now… and I’m the only one here.”

You shook your head, you tried to speak to deny it, but words escaped you as he flipped you around and hovered above your face.

“Do you get wet for anybody, baby, is that it? Will you spread your legs for any cock? Or do you just have a special place in your cunt for your big brother?”

Your stunned silence earned you a slap to the face, sending your head spinning to the side as your cheek stung and burned. Just as the heat of the impact really started to get to you, he hit you on the other side, and again, until you finally gave him an answer: “You!” you yelped suddenly. “You, Sam, just you!”

He laughed a little, leaning down and capturing your lips in an unexpected, dominating kiss. It was awkward and sloppy, exactly the sort of kiss one would expect when it was forced; just as passionless and confused on your end as a kiss to your step-sibling should be. But he moaned against you and forced his tongue deeper into your mouth, hands coming down to grope your tits through your tank top and bra. Trying to push him away was beyond useless, and he slapped you again without even breaking his lips away from yours. Soon he was reaching to pull down your top— no, wait, he was tearing through it, and your bra snapped like a rubber band against his strength. When he grabbed your breasts again, without any clothing in the way this time, your nipples were hard and sensitive between his fingers; it was so obvious that he smiled into the kiss, biting your lip playfully. “Wow, you really do like this. Your step brother’s forcing himself on you and you’re such a whore that you’re actually into it.”

He slapped your breast, just hard enough to sting, and you cried out; he did it again and your back arched.

“Yeah, I knew you just needed to be put in your place, little sis. Just needed me to fix your attitude, that’s all.” He wrapped his hand around your neck, not squeezing enough to cut off airflow but obviously threatening it, before leaning down to whisper in your ear: “get on the ground, on your knees.”

Even for what was left of your virginal innocence, you knew what he wanted. Wordlessly, your only sounds the weak little sobs that shook your chest, you slipped out from beneath him and onto the floor by the couch. He shifted to sit in front of you with wide legs, thick thighs spread as he looked down at you with an expression of anticipation.

“Get on with it, honey, I know you know how. Seen you choke on your toys a thousand times.”

After taking a stabilizing breath to cope with what was happening, shivering from the cold air on your exposed upper half, you sat up slightly and reached for his belt. You’d felt it pressed against you before, but now you could see the shape of his cock threatening to burst out of his jeans, so thick and long that you were confident he heard the little gasp you let out. And yet, you knew you had to trek forward, so you began to unclasp his belt before unzipping his fly. He lifted his hips to help you pull his pants and boxers down, but other than that he was too busy stroking the side of your face with his fingers in a move much too delicate for the situation. You stopped breathing for a second when you saw the size of him, his cock bouncing up when you released it to slap against his stomach.

“Sam, I can’t,” you sighed, starting to back away, “I’ve never— it won’t fit.”

“Nah, baby, it’s okay,” he encouraged gently, pulling you closer, “you can take it just fine. Just open your mouth, sis…”

He guided the tip of his cock between your lips, still swollen from his bruising kiss, and you whimpered when you felt his warm skin against your tongue, tasting the salty pre-cum that leaked out slow and steady.

“Yeah, just like that, now go ahead and suck on me,” he instructed, groaning when you closed your lips and hollowed your cheeks, using your tongue to tease the slit like you’d read online was a good thing to do. He chuckled and bucked up into you, holding your head as he started to pump his hips and slowly fill your mouth to the brim. “See, you can do it— now choke on it.”

When he pushed in until you gagged, your first instinct was to push on his thighs and try to get away for air, but he held you down as he hissed through his teeth.

“I know you can take all of me in your throat if you just stop fucking fighting,” he hissed, slapping you one more time which caused your throat to open up in shock— and it was just enough for him to shove in deeper, groaning at the feeling. “Yeah, that’s it… fuck…” he sighed, moving his hips faster. The struggle for air made your eyes water (although you hadn’t really had much of a chance to stop crying in the first place) as your grip on his thighs tightened. “I bet your pussy is getting so wet for me right now,” he chuckled, “I bet you love choking on my cock, huh?”

You tried to shake your head but you couldn’t really move much; he pulled you off of his length by your hair, just in time to give you a much-needed sputtering gasp for air.

“Fuck, I’d love to fill that pretty throat with my come,” he smiled— a sinister sort of grin that made you shudder as you looked up with him, feeling spit and pre-cum on your lips and chin— “but I know what you want. Since you’ve spent all year begging to lose your virginity on the internet, I figure I’ll be nice and give you what you’ve been asking for.”

Before you could even begin to consider a response to that, he hoisted you up and threw you back onto the couch, spreading your legs as you looked away in shame.

“Yep, I was right, you’re fuckin’ soaked,” he laughed. “You nasty little slut, are you actually getting off on this? Wow.”

A renewed sense of ‘dear god this cannot happen’ shot through you as he leaned down and slid his cock over your folds, teasing your clit with his swollen head. “Sam, stop, please…”

“I’m kind of getting tired of you begging,” he hissed as he leaned down, glaring right into your eyes as you froze beneath him. “I’m obviously not going to stop,” he explained as his hand slipped around your throat, “you dumb fucking bitch.”

Your ability to fight back was taken with your opportunity to breathe, his strong fingers cutting off blood flow to your head quickly as he clamped down on your neck. Instantly you clawed at his hand, your vision starting to go a little spotty, and he laughed at you coldly before letting go. And when he finally did, his hand moved instead to hold both your wrists above your head while the other guided his cock into your pulsing entrance. When he pushed his hips forward, the air was punched from your lungs as your back arched, a sharp pain reverberating over your body from the stretch of him inside you.

“Fuck!” he groaned, pushing in deeper, slow but consistent. “You’re tight, baby, you really did need a cock to ruin this hole, huh? Fuck, ‘m gonna, just hold still…”

But how could you hold still, when every instinct had you moving your hips to try to push his cock out, your hands tightening into fists as they tried to fight against his strength. Of course, now that he was inside, he had a second arm to hold you down with, but the terrifying thing was that he really only needed the one. “Sam!” you sobbed, your own voice sounding foreign with the way it wavered and cracked.

“Yeah, baby, that’s me inside you,” he purred, “that’s your big brother’s cock tearing up this little pussy…”

When he roughly shoved the rest of himself inside, the tip of his cock found the end of you and your eyes shot open. He smiled down at you as he examined your face; twisted in pain, and glistening with tears turned greyish-black by your mascara.

“None of your toys ever went this deep in you before, huh? Poor thing, should’ve known you were all talk… you don’t even know how to take those big cocks you drool over. I can’t even imagine what you’ll be like when I put this in your ass.”

He cackled at the pure terror that danced over your expression, and the way your walls tightened around him briefly.

“Relax, sis, not today. I’m just sayin’, if you want me to keep my mouth shut to mom and dad, you’re gonna have to keep me happy. Lucky for you, I’m very happy right now, snug inside this sweet little cunt of yours…” he trailed off, leaning down to kiss your cheek and moving to suck on your ear, bite your neck, lick up and down over your pulse. He was waiting, you realized, for your body to relax so he could move inside you with less resistance. You were a little surprised he didn’t just jackhammer into you with no regard for your pain, but you had a feeling that part was coming soon anyways.

He reached down to pull your legs up, guiding them to wrap around his hips, and the new angle forced his cock a little deeper which made you squeal. The sound morphed into a stuttered moan, however, when he pulled back out of you slowly, savoring every detail of your walls as he sighed against your skin.

When he slammed back home, your nails dug into your own palms.

“Baby,” he whispered, “you’re close, aren’t you? Just from this. You always came so fast in your videos…”

Irritatingly, he was right; your walls were flexing as more slick coated his thick shaft, dripping down until you could hear the wetness whenever his hips slapped into yours. You couldn’t help it, considering how he pushed right into your g-spot with every stroke inside you, hitting every sensitive place harder and better than any toy ever had.

“See, baby? We were made for each other,” he cooed. “You were made to take this cock. You were meant to be my little fucktoy.”

You hated the way his words only added to your pleasure, pushing you right up to the edge— which his cock slamming all the way into you one last time finally sent you over.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasped when he felt the force of your orgasm, smiling pridefully as your eyes fluttered shut and your head fell back against the couch. “So sensitive, sweetheart, and so fucking wet for me…”

He fucked you faster and— somehow— deeper, chasing his own release with aggressive thrusts into you. Each of his low grunts against your ear sent shivers down your spine, your legs around him tightening to pull him closer.

Just as you thought he might find his rhythm for a while and maybe, if you were lucky, be finished with you soon, he pulled out quickly and patted your thigh. “Hands and knees, baby,” he instructed, watching you shakily turn around and lift yourself on weak arms. It was short-lived, though, as he pushed your face back down into the couch cushion, forcing your back into a dramatic arch that made you feel like your body was on display for him. As if that wasn’t nerve-wracking enough, you couldn’t even see him much anymore, which meant you had no idea what he was reaching for when he leaned back— but you heard what it was when he turned it on. “Oh, you recognize this?” he mused. “It was my favorite of everything I saw you use.”

He rubbed the vibrator over your folds slowly, chuckling a little when you jolted each time it brushed against your clit. You didn’t really understand why he would want to fuck you with a vibe when he seemed to have been enjoying doing it himself; but then he slid it up a little higher, to your other hole, and you gasped. “S-Sam,” you pleaded.

“I know you took it here before. I watched you do it. I even heard you the night you filmed it— these walls are thinner than you think, sis.”

Shame burned on your face as you imagined him listening to you put something up your ass for the first time, only for him to see the video the next morning when you uploaded it.

“Do you think it’s gonna feel different when I put it in while I fuck you?” he mused, pushing the vibrating tip of it into your hole. Thankfully it was pretty slender, so the stretch wasn’t bad, but the vibrations were strong enough that you could feel them everywhere, and you realized he would be able to feel them, too, while he was inside you. “You’re gonna be so fuckin’ full, sis, stuffed to the brim just like you wanted.”

He pushed the toy in deeper until your hands clutched at the sofa beneath you, which was apparently his cue to guide his cock back into your drenched pussy. Just as he promised, you felt so full that you had no idea how to cope with it, your legs shaking as you tried not to collapse beneath him.

“Fuuuuuck,” he groaned, moving himself and the toy at alternating paces inside you as you mindlessly drooled onto the cushion, your overstimulated body barely able to handle the sensations he was forcing upon you. “You like being my little fucktoy, don’t you? You’re so pretty like this, so pretty being used just like you deserve.”

“Sammy, please,” you sobbed, barely intelligible as you couldn’t really string your thoughts together anymore.

“You want more, huh? Needy little slut,” he snarled, but the way he said it almost sounded like a compliment. It certainly made your heart swell as if it was. He fucked you faster, then, and pushed the vibrator as deep into your ass as it would go until you were sobbing and blubbering and basically just a complete mess beneath him. “Keep squeezin’ me so tight and I’m gonna come inside you, sweetheart,” he moaned.

Some part of your brain was still aware enough to know that that was not a good idea, but you didn’t even really think to tell him not to because you knew he would anyway. Finally, you had accepted that he was going to do whatever he wanted with you and your resistance only brought out his crueler side.

“Fuck, come again for me,” he demanded, “come on my cock while I come inside you— that’s it, cream on my fucking cock while I fill you up, slut.”

It was jarring, the way his words suddenly knocked you over the edge again as you cried out, fresh tears filling your eyes and joining the damp spot beneath your face on the couch. You felt both your holes clenching around the intrusions he had filled them with, your head going fuzzy and your limbs going numb from the intensity of your peak; waves of warmth washed over you as you slumped down a little bit, the distant sound of his praises just barely reaching your ringing ears.

His free hand held your hips tightly while the other kept pumping the vibrator into you, and even through all the overwhelming stimuli going on at the moment, you could feel his cock beginning to flex deep inside you. Each pump of his come painting the deepest parts of you coincided with a low moan from him, the sound so cruelly perfect and forcing your channel to clamp down on him, weakly, one last time.

“Fuck, baby…” he groaned as he caught his breath, turning off the vibrator before slowly pulling it out of you and tossing it aside. He kept his cock inside for longer, though, as he rubbed your ass and back gently. “You’re gonna be such a good little fucktoy for me, sis, I just know it.”

He let you drop when he pulled out of you, your spent body limp and leaking on the couch as he stared down at you.

“I think you need a shower, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “But first, you need to give me the password to your OnlyFans so I can help you delete it, okay baby? We don’t need anybody else looking at what’s mine.”

#sam wilson smut #dark!sam wilson x reader #sam wilson dark fic

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lampmeeting · 3 years

Note

D for Charles/Magnus, I for Magnus/Toki, L for Charles/Pickles, and F for Melm/JT.

eeehEHEHEHE DILF *rubs my little hands together* don't mind if i do~

D for Drunken Love Confession - Charles/Magnus

pre-klok. :') magnus has been chipping away at charles' resolve. there's just something about the bookish, put-together little chuck offdensen that makes magnus wanna break through all his defenses and see him come undone. he always did like a challenge. they have heated, passionate debates about the direction of the band. they get in each other's faces. magnus even kissed him once, but charles pushed him away, furious and blushing, and demanded he leave his office.

after six months of this weirdly charged back-and-forth they have, the band invites charles to come drinking with them to celebrate pickles' birthday. charles declines, concerned they're just inviting him to come because they want someone else to play designated driver. but magnus intervenes like "nah i'm driving tonight, promise. so go nuts." and charles seems to think it over... and eventually agrees.

so they all go out! at first charles seems to be pacing himself, but pickles gets shots, and it's all downhill from there. magnus, staying dutifully sober, watches the rest of the band + charles get sloppy and silly, not minding in the slightest the way charles leans against him a little in the booth and touches him when he laughs. he starts to regret not getting drunk himself, but he'd promised charles. it's enough just to see charles' mask slip, albeit not quite in the way magnus wanted. but he'll take it for now.

at the end of the night, magnus drops the band off at the apartment and then continues on to charles' place. he pulls up, and charles tries to get out of the car, but stumbles and falls. he's a lot more fucked up than magnus suspected. magnus helps him to the door, but charles seriously looks like he's about to black out, so he takes him inside, cleans him up a little, and puts him to bed (on his side, in the recovery position, he knows the drill). before he leaves, he can't help himself... he runs fingers through charles' sweaty hair and strokes his jaw. charles opens his eyes, seeming surprised that magnus is still there, and then... he smiles at him. a genuine smile. and as his eyes close again, he whispers something that freezes magnus in place.

"...mmfm...mmlove you..."

"...what?"

but charles is under again, and magnus leaves in a panic. charles doesn't, can't, have feeling for him. that's too much. magnus just wanted some fun, right? maybe get charles worked up enough for an angry fuck. but...love?

magnus can't sleep. the next time magnus sees charles, charles pulls him aside. "i apologize that you had to babysit me like that the other night. i can't exactly recall everything that happened, so if i said or did anything, ah...embarrassing, i'm very sorry."

so charles doesn't remember what he said. or he does and he's just trying to save face. magnus should be relieved about this, but for some reason his heart feels suddenly sore...

"oh, yeah, no...you were out like a light. don't worry about it."

I for "Idiots in Love" - Toki/Magnus

post-post-galaktikon. weirdly enough i'd probably write this from like nathan's pov or something. he's having everyone over to the house for some reason, maybe a holiday or his daughter's first birthday or something (her cool uncles wouldn't dream of missing it). this means..... rrugghhgh magnus is coming over. it's the first time he's interacted with magnus since pickles and charles' wedding, so maybe a good couple years, and he's not looking forward to it.

everyone arrives. toki and magnus are the last to show up, and nathan has to do a double-take because this is SO not magnus. half his hair is back in a ponytail, he's let his beard grow in some, and he's wearing a sweater?? and he's smiling? he genuinely seems happy to see nathan, gives him a hug, says a warm hello to abby.

over the course of the afternoon nathan has to keep looking at him and reminding himself that's magnus fucking hammersmith because he's just so... animated? friendly? he's sitting next to toki and they're holding hands, and when others are talking the two of them are making eyes at each other and cuddling and laughing at little things they seem to be sharing between themselves. they're being a couple of absolute goofballs together, and honestly it's a bit sickening to watch. is magnus just faking this?

at some point nathan excuses himself to the kitchen for something, and while he's in there he's joined by magnus, considerably more subdued.

"sorry, man, i just...i thought maybe we could talk for a sec."

so they talk. they catch up a little. nathan learns magnus has been hitting the therapy especially hard over the past year, making some meaningful strides. it's not an act, he's genuinely happier now. or at least trying to be.

"i mean, you know how it is, nate, right? doesn't abby make you wanna be better just because she exists and she loves you?"

okay, nathan can understand that. he still doesn't understand... them. but it really seems like magnus has turned a corner, which... good for him, he supposes. as long as he's treating toki well.

when they return to the party, nathan watches magnus sit back down with toki and give him a kiss like he'd been gone all month, and they giggle to themselves again. this time, it seems...all right.

L for "Love at First Sight" - Charles/Pickles

i'm gonna flip the script here!! i've already done the whole "charles sees pickles on stage and goes gaga for him" twice now... so i'd pull away from the 80s and do a fic where they actually did meet for the first time in the mid-90s when pickles was in dethklok.

so they've got their shitty original manager (the one from doomstar) still, and he's just not pulling his weight. he's managing a few other bands and his heart isn't in dethklok the way it used to be. pickles is worried they're stagnating, and when he learns that it's been magnus lately making sure they get booked, that's the last straw. they all come together, and they tell the dude to fuck off. but then this leaves them without a manager. magnus offers, but pickles has already been wary about how possessive magnus seems about the band recently, so when pickles says no the rest of them vote the same.

pickles blows through his old contacts looking to dig up some manager from his past who can either wants to manage dethklok or has connections to someone else. no dice. skwisgaar comes up with no one. magnus is still trying to campaign for himself. shit gets dire when somehow seth finds out dethklok is lacking management and leaves pickles a voicemail offering his "valuable fuckin' services". pickles blows his fucking top, swearing and screaming. "HOW HARD IS IT TO FIND ONE GUY CAPABLE OF MANAGING A FUCKIN' BAND??"

the doorbell rings, and pickles, still raging, throws it open.

"WHAT??"

"ahh!"

it's just... a dude. like a normal-ass dude. glasses. a nice dress shirt and slacks. nice hair. handsome. he's nervous as shit, but that almost makes him more handsome.

"i, ah...i-i was told that van on the street belongs to, ah...to someone here? i clipped the, ah, the bumper. just a little. but it's noticeable."

anger forgotten, pickles just... stares at him. are his eyes green or brown? and that jawline...

the man shifts his weight just a bit, peeking into the apartment with wide, curious eyes. "sorry, that, ah... that's quite the drum kit."

"huh?" pickles looks back at it and steps inside, and the man follows as if he's simply meant to be there. "oh, yeah, thanks. you play?"

"hardly. a small jazz kit in college for a friend's music project but it, ah, obviously didn't go anywhere." the man glances around and seems to realize that he's just waltzed inside. "right, ah, so about the van--" he pulls out his card. charles f. offdensen of finch & associates. an honest-to-god lawyer. huh. so he's a smart guy. good-looking to boot. knows a bit about music, apparently. and he's looking to make things right about hitting the van...

pickles smiles, hearts in his eyes. "ya like metal, charlie?"

F for "Fake Dating" - Melmord/Twinkletits

aaahahah... okay. so, this would be when melm is living with john as part of his continued therapy. a few months pass, and they've actually become good friends, melm thinks, not just therapist and patient. it's nice living there with john.

and then, john gets a call from his ex-wife, joy. she's in town, and she wants to come over for dinner one night before she leaves. the only thing is, she's got her new fiance in tow. she and john ended on pretty mutual terms, so there's really no bitterness there, but even so, john knows it's going to be an unpleasant evening. and then there's the question of what to do about melmord.

"you can just stuff me in a back room and pretend i don't exist. i'll be real quiet."

"absolutely not, you've been watching too many sitcoms."

"excuse you, that's jane eyre."

john just doesn't exactly know how to approach explaining melmord's presence in the house. because he knows joy, and joy will ask.

"tell her i'm a friend who needed a place to crash?"

"joy knows i don't do friends anymore."

ouch go melm's feelings.

"well, uh... you could just tell her the truth? that i'm your patient and i live with you?"

john pulls a face. "absolutely not."

in a flash of sitcom inspiration, melm snaps his fingers. "i got it! i'm your boyfriend! we'll pretend to date!"

"pretend to--?? mel, honey, no. okay? i understand you're trying to help, but--"

"but what? what's your brilliant idea, doc?"

cut to john introducing melmord to his ex-wife.

"and this is my... well, he's uh, my boyfriend actually. my boyfriend melmord."

melm is all smiles as he leans in and takes joy's hand. "please, just call me mel."

and then of course at the end of a long night, joy and her fiance leave, and john and melm pat each other on the back for a job well done. they really gave it their all, put on a convincing performance full of long embraces and doting glances and romantic touches. neither of them really want to talk about how easily it came to them, and how unwilling they both are to bring it to an end.

"well, uhh... good night, then." john chuckles. "darling."

"yeah, haha, sleep good, uh... sugarbear."

they laugh. they're standing in the hall laughing. they should really move apart from each other and go to their respective rooms if they're going to sleep, but they're not moving. and they're still laughing. and now melmord is touching john's shirt, fingering a button, and john has a hand on melm's hip...

"maybe," melm says quietly, "we can just pretend for, like... a little longer?"

#thank you jean!!!!#these are turning out so long omg hahaha #my writing #okay NOW i sleep fdgdgd

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cosmiclatte28 · 3 years

Text

6 Shots of Coffee (Jaemin x you + Dreamies)

a/n: I am back! With a sudden wild oneshot. Please be aware that this is purely fan-fiction. Anything happening here is mere pure imagination. I did not intend to connect any disorders with the idols in real life.

Warning : characters with disorders, a lot of dozing off characters, character with slight adhd (i tried my best to picture them correctly but I’m sorry if everything is wrong, i only did a short research). Mentions of orphanage, drunk parents, and a broken family. HAPPY ENDING!

CHARACTERS : dream (minus Hyuck and Mark), Taeyong, and Yuta also our brave (y/n)!

here we go,

If there are three things in life you hate, that will be Jaemin, Jaemin, and oh god another team assignment with Jaemin!

Jaemin has been the most excruciating classmate you ever have! Not only did he tease you about your freakin need of keeping things in their proper place and keeping things spotless, but he also keeps using you to help him pass his classes. Yet no teacher minds your complain, and all the school girls think you're a freak for being mad about sharing a group project with the handsome guy.

No you’re not sick or weird. You just love organizing things and you like clean things a bit too much. Why? Coz you've had some bad memories with dirty things. Okay Jaemin is just another naughty kid in your class who likes to play and have fun with others, but you certainly did not find his jokes funny.

“Come on calm down (y/n)! It's only coffee, we can clean that.” Jaemin tries to laugh it off despite seeing you standing completely frozen in front of him with an empty cup and you with a brown uniform. Although you clearly see there is a slight worry in his eyes.

You hold yourself back. How come the worst day has to become worse?! You woke up to period cramps, you forgot a homework thanks to late night distracted room cleaning, and as you were about to rush to type your homework in the library, Jaemin decided to meddle and spill his coffee on your white uniform.

A part of you want to scream and yell and pull his hair apart, but you're too tired to talk with Jaemin. Let alone think about Jaemin, there's just so many things you hate related to Jaemin.

Despite him trying his best to apologize and to help you wash your clothes, which is something new… Jaemin never cared if he messed up with you. You ended up slapping his hand away when he wants to drag you to the office to ask a spare uniform.

“Go away! I have to rush,” you push him aside with your shoulder and run to the library. Knowing so well you'll probably get another minus score and a weird look from the library thanks to your stained uniform.

You hate the feeling of sitting down with this coffee stained shirt, and as much as you want to open that shirt and change into something else, you don’t have the energy. So, after sitting down on the table with the library's laptop you stare into the keyboard only to focus more on your uniform and the least wanted thing happens.

You cry. You cry by yourself in the corner of the room and you don’t really mind the stare they give. You just want to end life here, can anyone just stab you? Or can the ground split and swallow you?

There’s another thing you hate other than Jaemin meddling with your ugly life. It's dirt and unorganized objects. Why? Well you were once a very regular kid, always playing in the rain mud and all kinds of sand. You don’t mind having dirt all over your body you know when you go home you can shower. That's until you grow up and notice how your family is different. Your parents look like they are okay, but every night you hear them argue and argue. The argument gets stronger and scarier, they shout, scream, throw things down and you were always awaken to the no longer comfy homey house. You realize one day you woke up to seeing your dad getting drunk, your mother depressed, and the house super dirty like a tornado just hold a party. It’s awful to wake up to the smell of cigar and alcohols instead of bacons and eggs. You had to keep one plate with you or else it will end up like its friends, lifeless, prickly, sharp, on the ground.

Your maid stopped working, you're moved to a new school, this middle school where you meet Jaemin and some other annoying problematic students. Your once colorful life turned dark and gloomy. No longer you woke up to morning kiss and breakfast. You find yourself sitting alone in the dining room, preparing your own sandwich from some cheap dry bread. No more nutella and you're grateful for butter.

You tried to understand, keeping all to yourself as you grow up and noticed your family is broken. You thought everything will get better, one day mom and dad will love each other again and you'll be back with the bright family you love.

Life is not that kind. Life is cruel, on your 14th birthday your dad left for another woman and your mother dropped you off to an orphanage. She said she can no longer pay for your school and living fees. Heck she even had to borrow money to buy you your monthly pads.

The cheerful friendly you turned 180° into a mournful secretive teenager. You hate everyone who looks bright and you hate every single dirt. Seeing unorganized things and dirty objects just remind you of the dark memories you want to forget.

The orphanage found your smart talent and you got a scholarship making you still able to attend the school. The orphanage you live in has a rule where there is a schedule for cleaning up and preparing dish. You meet a similar boy who has the same problem with you; just that he looks like he had overcome his bitterness and chooses to live a happy life. Which you deadly want to do but cannot.

Renjun, is the only person you talk to in that house. The adults taking care over you, still cannot make you talk comfortably with him and you're not planning to do any sooner.

“Hey, it's me. Should we make a letter to the office and go home?” Renjun's soft voice comes to your ear and you look up to him with blood red eyes.

“How long have I been crying?” you sniffle.

He shrugs his shoulder “I just came an hour ago when I noticed you're missing Chemistry class and Jaemin too. I thought he was with you.”

You scowl “Why would I be with Jaemin?”

Renjun scratches his head “I don’t know… you were always assigned a team with him… I thought both of you are rushing a task.”

“I am having a bad day.” You exhale.

Renjun shakes his head “That is more than a bad day. Here, put this on that coffee is hot or cold?” he gives you his school blazer and you gladly put it over your stained uniform.

You sigh, of course Renjun noticed. He is also like you, despise any single speck of dust.

“Jaemin spilled his cold coffee on me. Now I am late to submit my work, I'll never get the essay done and I am skipping classes. GREAT! Looks like I will be kicked out of school next week.”

Renjun shakes his head again “Silly, you're dramatic. They won’t kick you just because of that. What about your achievements?”

You scoff “They can always find another better painter. I could barely tell difference in colors.”

Renjun smiles well that’s what makes you different. The school honors your brilliant talent of drawing although you have a hard time distinguishing colors. But your emotions are well delivered on every picture you paint. That gives honor to the school when the art teacher secretly sent your works to different curators and exhibitions.

“Come, we will go home. I'll make your letter. Can you wait for me in the lobby by yourself?” Renjun smooths your hair away.

You shake your head and clearly looks afraid “Can I join you?”

He nods and lets you go with him, blaming himself for ever offering you that option.

You got home, Renjun fixes your mood by giving you new clothes. Yes, as simple as that, and you’re already less scarier than before. He makes you tea when he saw the circled date on the calendar and drops you some pain killers.

“It's that month, sorry for not noticing had I known, I'd bring you home when I heard Jaemin looking for you around the school.”

You pause from cutting the potatoes, well you need to start cooking dinner for the others. “Jaemin looked around for me?”

Renjun nods “Uh huh that's also how I know something is not right. Jaemin never looked for you except when he needs your score.”

You curl your lips “Weird. He also wanted to bring me to the office, which he never did before.”

Your sudden emotional change is a regular thing to Renjun. Although at first he has to bear with your monthly exploding sensitivity since you're the first teenage girl in this house, Renjun manages to tame you down when he calmly offer you a cup of warm chamomile tea you love.

“Maybe it’s the coffee.” You shrug it off. Come to think of it, you never see the school selling coffee but Jaemin always brings his cup of super dark coffee.

“Oh home early?” Taeyong, the oldest son of the orphanage owner, greets you both. Well Taeyong is like the head matron here, every school letter directed to him and every new kid will meet him.

“It's not her day. I brought her home before she spent another day dozing off in the school's garden.” Renjun whispers to Taeyong and the older just nods his head.

“Oh! Did I mention to you we will have a new family tonight? Please be nice, he comes from this neighborhood and we actually had been waiting for his arrival since last month, but he always escaped before his vise parents want to drop him here.

You grow annoyed at this news. Well you don’t really like having to act kind and good in front of the others. Especially when meeting new members. Taeyong always asked you to at least be welcoming and less patronizing but you cannot keep your resting bitch face to yourself.

“I might as well skip dinner.” You taunt at Taeyong “No way I am acting kind in front of that person when I had a shitty day.”

Taeyong just hums to your threat, it is nothing new. You're a stone heart and he doesn’t want to have to slap you because of your stubbornness.

“I don’t mind. Just try to be welcoming, he had a rough time too.” Taeyong waves his hand and disappears behind his study room.

“I wonder who is going to join us. Our dining table is empty after Mark and Hyuck got adopted.” Renjun is excited to welcome the new family, maybe because he really likes it better here and therefore, he wants to make sure everyone else is welcomed.

Unlike you who still can't swallow the bitter truth. For you, your real family was the best, yet you didn’t know when everything started to fall apart.

The other comes home, you see Jisung, Jeno, and Chenle coming from the backyard and you hide yourself back on your room. Dinner is ready they just have to heat it up. The stew.

You close your window and come back to sit in front of your paper. Trying to remember what project you missed and have to do.

You look around the room, you used to have a bigger room, but after Taeyong knew you cannot stay still when there are mess, he moved you to a smaller room where you cannot store so many things. He said its for your own good. He doesn’t want you to stress yourself and distract your studies just to clean things up.

You feel your stomach rumbling but when you hear the noisy sound downstairs, you remember the new family. Actually, you are curious, so you sneak from your room and take a peek from the walls.

Your mind might be playing tricks on you, you rub your eyes and focus more to the familiar man in the same uniform as yours. You want to doubt it, but when you hear Jisung repeats his name you want to jump away from this house and run far away.

Life must have hated you so much to send Na Jaemin not only to your school but also to your “house".

Although you try to ignore him, your mind wonders what makes him come here. He looks like he is okay, only naughty, but he doesn’t look like an orphan.

“Dinner?” Yuta, Taeyong's younger brother asks you when he was about to go down and greet Jaemin.

You quickly gasp and shake your head before making a quick run to lock yourself in your room.

You try to think of any reason why Jaemin is here… from dinner to nine you cannot think of doing other thing rather than fiddling with your pen as you let your brain wonder and wonder.

Only around twelve did you suddenly jolt and realize you've wasted another night without doing your paper. You hear a step on the squeaky floor, and you have to stay quiet. Taeyong and Yuta wouldn’t like seeing you still awake this late. However, you don’t recognize the footsteps. Must be Jaemin’s.

The next morning, you escape earlier from the house. Leaving before breakfast for the sake of not meeting Jaemin. You're still mad at him and you hate him. You hate him for giving you hard times at school and now at “home".

You were waiting in the class when suddenly Jaemin comes into the class with a nervous face. You wonder did he just see a ghost? Jaemin really looks out of his place. Did he finally realize he is thrown away to the orphanage? Or did he finally realize you're secretly writing foot notes to the teacher that Jaemin is only leeching on your grades? Did he get called by the office?

You try your best to stop distracting your mind and continue working your essay. Thank goodness you can submit the work when the teacher leaves the class, only then did you see Jaemin's frozen state on his chair.

“Jaem?” you surprise yourself too for calling out his name. He also looks surprised.

“Yes?” he puts on his damn sickening pretty smile back like he always did to other students.

“Erase that smile. It's creepy.” You mutter and the other girls in your class is wanting to end you up there and then.

“Sorry, it’s just that… I … I didn’t get my coffee this morning.”

You raise your brow, oh right. Taeyong and Yuta are not giving us caffeine until we are 20.

You raise a brow “And? Can’t you skip once?”

His feet thump on the floor and he looks around nervously “You're right. I- don’t mind me.” He stands up and suddenly leaves you with bigger question mark in your head.

He sure is weird. What’s wrong with skipping one cup of that bitter liquid?

“(Y/n)! Come let's go home.” Renjun greets you on the lobby as you wait for the youngers to come too.

“Noona, you should meet Jaemin hyung! He is so sweet last night!” Jisung tugs on your uniform.

You frown and shudder your shoulder “Jisung, I hate that man.”

Jeno just laughs at your words and at Jisung's surprised expression “So, should we wait for him?”

You click your tongue “Actually that weird man left class after the first session and did not come back to class. Maybe he ran away. Let's go before it rains.” You start leaving the lobby, but no one follows you.

“Is it because of us?” Jisung worriedly asks his brothers.

Renjun thinks for a while “You mean what happened this morning?”

Jisung nods. Your ear can still hear them, for they start walking after you too. You have to hold yourself from turning around and asking them what happened this morning that made him weird!

When the five of you enter the house, that's when your brain finally clicked on what Jaemin must be suffering.

There in the middle of the living room, is Jaemin looking so uncomfortable as he forces his hand to write on a paper with a textbook opened by his side, but what comes out of his hand is just scribbles of lines and curves and he looks like he is painting instead of writing an essay.

“So damn hard to be productive!” he suddenly throws his pen and pulls his hair. All five of you are shocked to see this. Even you! You never see this side of Jaemin in school. He always looks like the charming prince every girl’s crush, but this is definitely not the same man.

His lips are trembling, limbs unable to stop shaking and he looks in pain. And he starts to hit himself as if scolding his body for not cooperating.

You are in awe and you have to quickly usher Jisung and Chenle away.

“Jaemin! Calm down okay.” Jeno and Renjun quickly stand by his side and tries to keep the boy from hitting himself.

You bring Jisung and Chenle to their rooms while your head is quickly thinking of what to do. You sure see he is panicking and he's throwing tantrum. Taeyong and Yuta are not here yet but when you see your reflection on the window with a clean uniform suddenly your mind reminds you of the incident yesterday.

Coffee. Na Jaemin needs coffee. As silly as it sounds, you've read somewhere that coffee can help someone with ADHD or something like that. You're not sure, but you want to give it a chance. You run to your room, break your saving jar and pick out the bills you've been saving.

“Jaemin, how many shots?” you ask him when you pass through him.

Renjun and Jeno look at you with question in their face but Jaemin understands you and holds out a number with his hand.

Your eyes widen but you run to the nearest coffee shop, the one with the brand you always see Jaemin holding.

“Give me americano with six shots of espresso. Cold I don’t know with water or not.” You sound as mad as a hatter, but the barista seems to notice something.

“Are you by any chance taking an order for Jaemin?” he asks you nod your head baffled that he is a regular here until the shift knows his order and name.

“I was confused when the morning shift told me Jaemin skipped his coffee today. Alright i'll make it like how he always orders.” The man with a name tag Mark punches the bill and gives you the amount.

You don’t mind paying such high price for the black bitter drink you never like, as soon as Mark hands you the drink you walk as fast as you can back to the house.

You see Renjun waiting for you in the porch and he looks pale.

“Where did you go?! I was worried.” Renjun almost scolds you for leaving suddenly.

You walk past him “Jaemin! I have your coffee.” You yell at him, who is currently staring on the TV that's off. Jeno is still sitting next to him, afraid that Jaemin will do anything dangerous.

Jaemin's eyes widen as he quickly takes over the drink and gulp it down like his life depends on it.

All three of you wait for him to finish half of his drink and like magic, Jaemin looks calmer.

He closes his eyes and leans on the couch. His head rests on the small pillow Jeno tosses to him and you can see his usual self back.

After ten minutes, he opens his eyes stretches his body and like a robot who has his reset button pressed, Jaemin shoots a “what?” look to the three of you.

“Sorry if I freaked all of you out. I…” he shyly scratches his head “I have a minor ADHD and … coffee seems to be helping me focus and calm down.”

Now everything clicks. You understand why the teacher actually always assigned you with him, because no one else can handle Jaemin as patient as you and you're too blunt to notice he has his own trouble. You understand why he always brings a coffee to the class and why he looks calm when he has them. Unlike yesterday when he spilled it over you, you clearly see a slight terror in his eyes, and he disappeared from class. Maybe he was shy of showing his true self in class. You now know the reason he skipped class today because of the lack of caffeine and you just didn’t know he is also as wrecked as you guys.

That night, Jaemin knocks on your door and invites you to join dinner.

“You skipped dinner last night, I don’t know if it’s because I was there… and yesterday I was really ruining your day. I'm sorry I wasn’t a good friend too at school.” Jaemin speaks rather in a calm tone and you're taken aback he can speak in a soft kind voice and not the high pitch annoying teasing voice you regular get in school.

You're flustered, but you quickly put back your cold face “It's okay. T'was my fault too not looking the way. Don’t worry I skipped dinner last night coz I am not hungry.” You lied.

No way you were going to spill the truth to him, not when you already know how hard his days are. He was not as bright and happy as he looks like.

“Renjun told me last night everything about you. I am so sorry…I didn’t know my jokes were very painful and disturbing to you. I should’ve stopped but you know I sometimes cannot hold my brain back.” Chuckles Jaemin nervously.

You sigh and place a hand on his shoulder “Life is hard right?” He nods his head and you squeeze his shoulder, “We also find it hard. But at least we're not alone now. We have each other and the others too. I am also sorry for picking on you to the teacher for leeching my score, but I promise I won’t do that again. I'll help you Jaemin.” You smile sincerely to him.

His face brightens “You're the best! I always have hard time focusing! Well coffee helps me, but still it's not healthy.”

You take his hand in yours “Na Jaemin, you're a part of our family now. Since we're family, we will get each other's back! Don’t worry things will be okay and you too will be okay!”

He Smiles and that is a new smile you've ever seen on him. A smile that's pure and true. That shows he too is also a human who can feel pain not just the angelic handsome boy in class.

“We should eat. The others are waiting,” Chenle's appearance in the hallway makes you and Jaemin turn your heads to him.

“She's right. We're family, now family eats dinner, together right? Come on! Taeyong hyung got us some pizzas for your welcome party.” Chenle drags the taller man's hand which automatically pulls you too.

A smile comes to your face when you realize just how perfect this imperfect family is!

Yes you also struggled focusing on a certain job, yes you also hate messy stuffs, yes it's true Renjun took three months to open his mouth and speak complete sentences, it also takes Jeno five months to be true about his feelings, and Jisung plus Chenle? They also have their fish to fry. Now Jaemin, is here with his own battle that will soon be shared within us.

Just like the famous quote, Ohana means family and family means no one is left behind.

Looking around the table, although you really wish you have a sister or a mother figure here, you're more than happy to call the 7 men your brothers and families.

end

please let me know if there are anything I can fix. I am trying a new genre and it’s a bit challenging but I am happy with finishing this.

Contact or reach me out if you have any curiosity of what happens to the members or maybe you wonder what their problems are.

Thank you for reading :D 🤗💖

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capricornus-rex · 3 years

Text

A Shadow of What You Used to Be (6)

Chapter 6: No, There Is Another | Cal Kestis x Irele Skywalker

Summary: There is another! Years after young Anakin Skywalker departed Tatooine, his mother Shmi delivers a second child—this time, a daughter. Whilst the circumstance of the girl’s birth remains unexplained, Irele Skywalker has yet to choose the true path between those laid out for her.

A/N: Sorry it took so long, you guys! ;;w;; What with the holidays and me managing what to order for my 24th birthday today (It’s the 27th where I live so we’re celebrating in a quite chill way heheh), so this is my birthday treat to you! A new chapter! 💖💖

Tags: Fem! OC, Irele Skywalker, Force-sensitive! OC, Anakin’s Younger Sister, Skywalker! OC, Darth Vader’s Secret Apprentice, Long-lost Sibling

Requesting to be tagged: @heavenly1927

Also in AO3

Chapters: Prelude – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 | Previous: Part 5 | Next: Part 7 | Masterlist

7 of ?

19 BBY

Irele, her stepbrother Owen, and his now-wife Beru Lars live together in the same roof. After their father had died of natural causes, they placed him next to the grave of Shmi, as they deem it appropriate; they have taken full control of the homestead, though their ways didn’t change that much.

Now thirteen years old, Irele Skywalker had grown into the spitting image of Shmi Skywallker albeit younger. Medium length hair always secured as a ponytail with thin braids woven along the tail, warm and earthy-colored eyes, and a somber yet friendly smile.

The teenager had grown into an adventurous young spirit. Perhaps, if one is to see Shmi as a girl, she would have been the exact same as her daughter. Gaining friends in Anchorhead and even as far as Mos Eisley, though she had learned to steer clear of the latter town unless the need truly arises. Taking odd jobs in either of the towns, her hustler’s nature remained intact, she did not want to depend heavily on her brother and sister-in-law for monetary support—albeit Owen strongly disagrees, but to not avail.

“You’ve been out more often than staying at home!” chided Owen, who was now perhaps in his early thirties.

“Well, I do need to work, don’t I, big brother?” she tapped his bulky arm as she strolled into the house.

She had just returned from her work in the shop that’s a hybrid of a speeder vendor and a servicing center. Whether she realizes it or not, she always finds herself tinkering with something, fixing them… like her real brother’s pastime as a child.

Irele had taken home a piece of a machine to her house, a personal project of sorts, completely unrelated to her work. She settled herself on the small worktable in her bedroom and immediately casts her lamp’s light on the working space. A metal rod put together with various, mismatching shafts and components held together by screws and sewn leather wrappings; it’s even a miracle that it worked, one way or another, it would serve better as a melee weapon than that of a Magnaguard’s electro-staff. Perhaps this staff is one of the many testaments of Irele’s skillfulness and resourcefulness, for growing up as a hustler and being exposed to machinery at an early age.

As she grew, she always donned a woven scarf made by Shmi. It has been a few years or so, and the heartache is very much fresh; every time she catches a glimpse of her headstone, with Cliegg’s next to it, the healing wound is ripped open once again—though she found comfort in confiding and speaking to both of them as if they were still alive, sitting with her and listening.

“Oh, circuitry should be here. Mom would have pointed that out too.” she mumbled to herself as she fiddled the wires with the sharp end of a thin screwdriver.

Come the hour of sunset, Irele had finished her chores after her handicraft. In the middle of her working, she felt a presence—it was sage and calming—she also heard the grunting of a single eopie. Curious, she and Beru went to the door. She was right about the eopie, carrying a single rider who held the reins with only one hand and is carrying something with the other. Irele thought the hooded rider to be her brother, as she remembered his own cloak, but the cowl revealed a slightly older man—his jaw was covered with a full, sandy-brown beard, his eyes were kind and yet she hinted the sadness in them, as if tragedy had befell him shortly before coming here.

It was Obi-Wan.

When the stranger coaxed the animal to kneel, he carefully hopped down, and supported his precious cargo with his free arm. He approaches the older girl and she willingly takes what he gave. The wide sleeve of his robe gave way to show an infant boy, perhaps a few weeks old. Beru and Irele’s eyes lit up, they spoke nothing to the stranger but they bid him with a short, polite bow.

Obi-Wan noticed the second girl, her olive skin and brown eyes gave him a memory of Anakin—the reminder sharply jabbed him into the recesses of his mind. The angry voices, the echoes of the sputtering lava, and the sorrowful howling of Anakin drummed behind his ears.

“Are you alright, sir?” Irele noticed.

“Oh, dear. I am fine, thank you,” he cleared his throat and tucked his arms inside his sleeves. “I am just not used to travel here in this place… but I will be.”

“I see.”

“My dear, may I know your name?”

“It is Irele…”

“Irele…?”

“Irele Skywalker-Lars.”

Obi-Wan slowly angled his head upwards, concealing his surprise as her name sinks into him.

Another Skywalker?

“Well, Irele,” he cleared his throat again. “May I ask a favor from you?”

“I’ll do my best to fulfill it.”

“I’m sure you can,” Obi-Wan’s gaze went to Beru carrying the baby who joined her husband, Owen, looking at the binary sunset. “Take care of him.”

“I don’t mean to sound uptight but… Who is he to me?”

“He’s your family. Your nephew. His name is Luke.”

Irele was a smart girl. She knew whose son the infant would have belonged to. A part of her wanted to ask where the father is—her brother—but perhaps it was for the best that she does not obligate the stranger to indulge her questions.

“Then I’ll do everything in my power to keep him safe.”

“I know, Irele,” Kenobi smiled, although a little sadly. “I know.”

“Sir, I’m sorry but I don’t know your name.”

“Ben… Ben Kenobi.”

Kenobi did not stay long in the premises of the homestead. He bowed to Irele, who returned the gesture, and returned to his steed. The eopie grunted as Kenobi hauled the reins to the right side, then spurred the tall quadruped to the distance, clouds of sand puffing under its hooves until the figure disappears as the twin suns set.

When Kenobi was gone from her sight, she turned to her brother and sister-in-law, along with their nephew—whom Owen would have probably called his son, given the chance. Irele was excited. She was already thinking of the things she and Luke would do—what games they’d play, what machines she’d teach him to fix, what kind of speeders could they hop on together.

He was the brother she never had.

From a certain point of view, it’s a wrong that she could right, while fulfilling her promise to Kenobi.

After Beru nursed the infant, she laid him down on their bed, Irele never left Luke’s side. She chuckled every time he would squirm, coo, and smile at her. Her heart fluttered and she fell in love with him. When Beru left the two children alone, Irele tasked herself to watch over him.

She moved her finger to his tiny hand and with his tiny, soft fingers he clasped her thumb with a grip as light as a feather. Irele’s heart melted once more.

And then she whispered as she kissed the tiniest hand that held hers, “I’ll keep you safe, Luke. I’ll always protect you.”

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illfoandillfie · 4 years

Text

Horror Movie (Right There On My TV)

Pairing: Ben X Fem!Reader X Joe

Summery: You and the boys have a horror movie marathon

Warnings: Ya’ll this fics got it all. We’ve got fluff! We’ve got hurt/comfort! We’ve got a little angst! And of course we’ve got smut (18+)! Oral Sex (mostly m receiving but also a little f receiving), sensory deprivation in the form of blindfolds, fear play, restraints, a little hint of slapping, a bit of sub!reader, a bit of denial, fingering, unprotected sex, a little bit of m/m, i think that covers it

Words:8453

A/N: This is my HalloQueen event entry for @mrbenhardys ! Kyra I have absolutely loved getting to know you and I hope you enjoy this! 🎃💚

Taglist: @laedymoon @dtfrogertaylor @ezmina98 @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks

Your relationship with Ben and Joe was hard to define. A facebook relationship status update would say it’s complicated. Acquaintances would say you and Ben were dating and that Joe was a close friend. The few friends who knew something about your situation would probably describe you as a lucky bitch for managing to snag two hot fuckbuddies. Which, admittedly, you were. It had started the same as most casual relationships you’d seen before, you and ben and a less-than-sober hookup. It happened on a night out celebrating a mutual friend’s birthday and then it had just sort of kept happening. A tipsy pash here, a booty call there. You fell back on each other after unsuccessful nights out and stressful work days. He never made you leave if you were at his place late and, after a week where you stayed over more nights than you spent at home, you’d ended up having a discussion about what was happening between you. Neither of you was in the right place for a proper relationship. You’d only recently got out of something fairly long term and he was very career oriented, still trying to learn how to mix his professional life with his personal, especially now that he was auditioning for roles in bigger productions. So you agreed to keep it casual and fun. Stress relief he sometimes called it, or distraction or a hundred other innuendos and code names. But no matter what name you used it was exactly what you both wanted: a regular good, fun shag.

The night you met Joe he flirted with you outrageously. Ben had invited you out with a bunch of other friends, a proper piss up to welcome Joe and make up for celebrations Ben had missed while he’d been filming. He was excited for the two of you to meet, sure you’d get along like a house on fire, though he probably hadn’t expected see you grinding against each other on the dancefloor quite so quickly. You caught him looking at you from over the shoulder of whichever friends he was talking to once or twice, feeling suddenly awkward under his gaze and a little like you were in the wrong. Maybe because it had been a while since you’d been with anyone other than Ben and there was the assumption you’d end up in his bed at the end of the night. But you’d reminded yourself that you and Ben weren’t exclusive, just friends who sometimes saw each other naked, and let your attention drift back to Joe. You’d ended up making out with him before the night was done, in a dark corner of the club, hands grabbing at each other, his tongue practically down your throat. That was as far as you got though. He was crashing in Ben’s spare room and you felt just a little too weird about the situation to let it progress any further. At least, until a few days later. You went over to Ben’s with the intention of just hanging out with the two of them, maybe watch a movie or take the dog for a walk. Ben had been so sure you and Joe would get on and you wanted to make a proper effort, have a conversation unhindered by house music and shots and wandering hands. Joe answered the door, explaining that Ben had just left with Frankie and didn’t expect to be back for a couple of hours. “I’ve just put the kettle on though, do you want a coffee? Tea? Ben’s told me so much about you and I’m dying to get to know the girl who pushed him out of a window.” “He told you that?” you asked, following Joe through to the kitchen. “Yup,” “Well he lied, I never pushed him out of anything. The idiot was drunk and fell out himself. Besides it was the ground floor, wasn’t a proper fall anyway.” “That’s not how he tells it,” “No, well, if he told it properly it wouldn’t be half so impressive,” you laughed. You’d ended up talking for a bit, realising Ben had been right about how much you’d like Joe. The friendly conversation led to picking up where you’d left off a few night’s previous which led to both of you giggling as you scurried into the spare room, shedding clothing as soon as the door was shut behind you.

Ben arrived home and was startled by you, wearing nothing but Joe’s shirt on your way back from the bathroom. The uncomfortable moment was only made more uncomfortable by Joe almost walking into you both, wearing only his boxers. “Y/N? What’s taking so long? You said you were going to blow me,” his voice trailed off at the end as his eyes landed on Ben. “Hey Ben, fancy seeing you here in your own home,” “You’re both getting on then?” Ben’s voice was cheery but uncomfortably so, like he was trying too hard. “Mmhmm, guess you were right about us,” you said, not quite meeting Ben’s eye. “Good, I’m glad,” his gaze were fixed on you, completely ignoring Joe who still stood in the doorway to his room, “Just out of curiosity, how long have you...” “Today was the first time,” you said, equally as focused on Ben as he was on you, “Came over figuring we’d all hang out and I’d get to know Joe because you kept going on about him. Didn’t really expect anything else to happen.” “Okay, cool. I mean, it’s fine, you’d make a cute couple,” “Thats not... it’s not like that. Right Joe?” you looked away from Ben for the first time since he’d appeared, “It’s nothing serious.” Joe blinked like he’d forgotten he was part of the scene taking place, like he wanted to call out to the director for his next line, “Oh, yeah, no. I mean, I’m only here for a couple of weeks and I’m not really looking for serious right now.” “Cool. That’s cool. None of my business anyway. Sorry, I’ll,” he gestured vaguely in the direction of the lounge room before disappearing through the doorway. You chewed on your lower lip, staring at the spot where he’d been. “Soooo,” Joe drew the word out until he ran out of breath, “can I ask what that was about?” “Huh? Oh um, yeah. Me and Ben have kind of had a thing going for a while,” you walked past Joe into his room searching the floor for your clothes, it didn't feel right to continue now that you weren't alone. “Shit, really?” “Yeah but not like anything specific. Just a casual thing. Other people weren’t off limits or anything so there’s nothing to worry about.” “Still feel kinda bad. It’s his house after all.” “Yeah,” you sighed, trying to convince yourself that was the only reason you felt bad. “What if we didn’t have to though? Feel bad that is.” You paused, halfway through pulling your underwear back on, “What d’you mean?” “What if he joined us,” Joe shrugged as he made the suggestion, trying to seem casual. “Really?” “Yeah, if you’re cool with it?” “I’ll go get him then,” “I’ll wait here then,”

You crept towards Ben as quietly as possible, almost making him spill his drink over both of you as you flopped onto his lap. “Shouldn’t you be with Joe?” Ben kept his gaze fixed on the TV screen. “Wanted to ask you something,” “What could possibly be so urgent?” “Do you maybe want to join us?” “What?” “Threesome, Ben. You in?” “Is that a trick question? Of course I’m bloody in,” You laughed as Ben swooped in to kiss you quickly and then pushed you off his lap, giving your arse a small slap to get you moving back to the bedroom. “Who’s idea was this?” Ben asked as he followed you back to where Joe was waiting. “Joe’s but it wasn’t like I needed convincing,” “Geez Mazzello, didn’t realise you were so hot for me.” “As if you haven’t been pining over me for months.”

The three of you fell into the arrangement quietly, without feeling like you had to discuss it overly much. It was just fun, after all. You did have a conversation over dinner about limits and likes but there was an understanding that, whatever your relationship was, it didn’t need to be defined or spelt out. You continued to hook up with Ben and, when the chance arose for you to see Joe you would, sometimes all three of you spending the night together. While Joe was away, home in the US, you kept in constant contact. Group chats between the three of you featuring jokes at each other’s expense, plans for things to do next time Joe was able to make it back to your part of the world and outrageously flirty messages, some of them down right filthy. Plus a private chat where you sent each other photos from your beds and lamented the distance between. Ben spent a few weeks visiting Joe and they made sure you knew everything that happened, your phone constantly vibrating as photo after photo was sent to you. The two of them at a baseball match, a series of shots taken while having dinner, a sneaky picture of an unaware Ben getting out of the shower, all of them captioned with things like bet you wish you were here, and better than what you’re eating, and jealous?

You and Joe got closer, despite being so far apart, during a few weeks when Ben started seeing someone else. It came as a surprise, Ben not so much as mentioning it to you until the day you texted to see if he wanted to come over to play videogames, have a drink and make out a bit. His reply felt awkward, like he didn’t want to admit he was with another woman, or maybe you were just projecting your own sudden, inexplicable hurt onto his words. You spent the night talking to Joe instead, wishing he was with you to make you forget the unexpected pang that had hit you when you saw Ben’s message. The conversation, which started with a joke about him no longer having to share you with Ben, carried you through three glasses of wine and ended with you sending him a video of you fingering yourself, only needing to wait about thirty seconds before he was calling for more. It was a good distraction for the night and one that continued regularly for the full length of Ben’s new fling. Eventually, sick of only being able to listen to your moans through the phone, Joe booked a flight back to visit. Once again he crashed at Ben’s place, though he barely used the bed. Even nights where the three of you would hang out together had the tendency to end with Joe following you home.

During his stay you learnt how he took his coffee and which were his favourite snacks, stocking up on all of them. You got used to the smell of his aftershave in your bathroom and on your sheets. And to the sound of his laughter ringing through your rooms. The day you came home from work and found him cooking dinner you decided that meeting him had been one of the best things to happen to you, and the thought was only confirmed later that night when he went down on you. Weekend mornings became excuses to stay in bed, snuggled up together under the covers, dozing between giggly remarks and lazy kisses. Unsurprisingly, Ben was a frequent topic of conversation. “Maybe we shouldn’t speculate about his bird so much,” you sighed, wriggling further into Joe’s embrace. “Well if he’d just tell us something about her we wouldn’t have to,” “You’re right, this is his fault. I bet she’s a bitch.” “Y/N!” Joe mock scalded, “Our Benny wouldn’t date a bitch. A cow maybe,” You both laughed, letting the sound fade into silence naturally. “No, she’s probably terribly lovely.” you said after a pause, “pretty too,” “I reckon she’s tall. Ben’s got a thing for tall girls,” he nudged you, pulling another smile onto your face. “I miss him,” “Great, what am I, chopped liver?” “Oh shush, you know what I mean. You saw us the other night, it’s different now. He’s more awkward around me.” “Yeah, I get the feeling you wouldn’t have seen as much of him if I wasn’t here,” “That’s probably true,” “It’ll pass. You’ll be back to normal before you know it,” “Bit hard since our normal involved a lot of sex, but I appreciate the sentiment.” “Well, if things don’t get better between you, you could always move over my way. I’m sure we’d be able to get you a job over there. And you wouldn’t even have to worry about a place to live or anything since I’ve got a perfectly good one. Could take my guest room. Or half of my room, I’ll clear some draws for you, save you some space in the wardrobe.” “Joe...” Part of you loved the idea, the thought of Joe liking you enough to want something more serious made you feel warm and gooey. But you sensed he wasn’t letting on to the full extent of his feelings, something unsaid hanging between you, and you didn’t know what to do with it. “I know, I know. A bit too serious sounding. But you are welcome any time. We can take pictures for Ben, maybe make him jealous enough that he breaks it off with what's-her-name and come back to us.” “Sounds like a brilliant plan. If they’re still together at the end of the month I’ll book my ticket.” You both fell into another fit of giggles, easing the momentary tension that had risen in your chest as he found your lips again.

They weren’t together by the end of the month. It only took a few weeks for the relationship to fizzle out and a few days after that he was calling you again. You tried not to look too happy when he appeared on your doorstep brandishing a bottle of your favourite rosé, a grin breaking out despite your annoyance at his interrupting you and Joe. “I can come back later,” he said, noticing your dishevelled hair and the robe you’d hastily thrown on. “It’s just Joe. You can come in if you want,” He nodded, dumping the bottle on the first table he passed as he followed you to your room. “Look who I found,” “Ben! Guess you finally realised how much you missed us,” “I think you missed me more,” he laughed, things instantly feeling like nothing had changed, “How’s our pretty whore been managing with only one cock to satisfy her?” “She’s been managing just fine, thanks,” Joe said as he hurled a pillow towards Ben. But Ben caught it, coming close to hit Joe over the head with it before swooping in to kiss him quickly. His smile was warm as he flopped onto the bed, squeezing into the space between you and Joe. “I did miss you though,” he said softly, pulling you into a deep kiss. You melted into him, your hand falling to his chest, able to feel his heart beating beneath your palm. “Hey, y’know as much as I enjoy watching you two together, me and Y/N were kind of in the middle of something.” You laughed against Ben’s lips, pulling away so you could lean over and kiss Joe too.

So it continued. Too many feelings for friends with benefits to feel like an apt description, but none of you claiming more than that. Any attempts to label your relationship only raised more questions until you gave up trying, but it was something none of you wanted to trade in or give up. Sometimes you worried that Joe, living so far away, felt left out, though you did everything you could to include him. But it became easier when he landed a role in a movie that was filming close to Ben’s place. He moved into Ben’s guest room again, this time for a few months rather than a few days or weeks. You celebrated his arrival by pouncing on him before he was even fully though the door, sinking to your knees and tugging his pants down with the promise that he could have you however he wanted in every room of the house. Ben rolled his eyes, dragging one of Joe’s suitcases over the threshold and complained that you’d never made him that offer.

The three of you settled into a kind of domestic bliss. Mornings spent drinking coffee before any of you had to rush off to work. Evenings spent walking Frankie, in a pair or all together, taking her to the park. Nights spent on the couch sharing a bottle of white wine as you talked, or drinking chai lattes as you snuggled close to keep warm. Sometimes you’d curl up in an armchair and doze, listening to the boys run lines together, or to Ben messing around with his guitar, the TV on in the background even though no one was watching it. Weekends and days off spent lazing around the house or heading out together. You cooked dinner together or argued about what to takeout to order, stole each other’s clothes, and sometimes all fell asleep in the same bed, whoever was in the middle waking up sweating in the morning from how warm it got. Fast and needy afternoon sex with Ben while Joe was still on set. Slow and lazy morning sex with Joe when he didn’t have to be in until late. Making out with one on the couch turning into both of them grabbing you, pulling you into place so they could have you at the same time. At first you returned to your own home each night but you gave it up as a bad joke before too long, happier to stay in either of their bed’s, even on nights when you were all too tired to so much as think about sex.

One night, a couple of weeks after Joe moved in, found the three of you huddled up on the couch together watching a scary movie. It had been your idea to have a horror movie marathon. The storm belting down outside set the perfect mood and the idea of cuddling up to your boys was too nice to pass up. Joe had jumped at the suggestion, already listing the movies he thought deserved to be watched before you’d even finished talking. Ben had agreed too, a little slower than Joe but with a joke about how scaring a girl with a horror movie was the number one way to get her into bed. You laughed and let them playfully argue about which of their beds you’d end up in, as you settled into the couch between them. “It’s gonna be mine, mate,” Ben said, readjusting in his seat so his body was turned towards you and Joe, “No offence but I’ve got the better arms for a comforting cuddle. Also, you don’t technically own a bed here. You’re in my bloody guest room so I think that means I get dibs,” “Bullshit! If you were a good host you’d let the guest have her.” “Think I let you have enough as is. That’s my jumper isn’t it?” Ben pointed at the maroon knit Joe had donned as he rushed out the door that morning. “That’s like comparing apples and oranges,” “Do I get a say in this?” You asked offhandedly as you scrolled through Netflix. “Only if you’re agreeing with me,” Ben countered, wrapping his arm around your middle and pulling you tight against his body. The sleeve of his yellow knit sweater scratched softly against the partially exposed skin of your stomach as you giggled. Joe leaned in towards you, his hand falling to your knee, “Don’t worry honey, we both know you’ll sneak into my bed once he’s asleep.”

There was a little more bickering from both of them, Ben reminding you that you could hide your face against his chest if you got scared, Joe scoffing that it’d be like hiding your face against a brick wall and you’d be better off leaning into him, even as Joe turned off the lights and you turned the volume up, loud enough to be heard over the storm. They both quieted down as the first movie started, though neither of them removed their hands from you. Occasionally Joe would shift his up your thigh, rubbing your skin softly as though he were soothing you or trying to warm you up, and at one particularly unexpected jump scare, both their grips on you tightened, neither relinquishing their hold until the movie was over. As the credits were rolling Joe grabbed the controller, flipping through the other horror titles until he found what he was looking for. “Found it!” “Bird Box?” “Yeah, I’ve been wanting to watch this for ages,” he said, “just haven’t had the chance yet,” “Ben, have you seen it?” “Um, no, I haven’t. But I’ve heard it’s good,” his voice sounded thick and he stopped to clear his throat between statements. “Alright hush up I’m starting it,” You glanced over at Ben but he caught you, flashing you a smile as he dropped a kiss to your shoulder and then turned back to the screen. You smiled back, deciding he’d only sounded odd from not using his voice for a couple of hours. Only fifteen minutes or so into the movie Ben got up, tiptoeing towards the front door, making sure it was locked, and then heading into another room as quietly as he could. You glanced at his back, but the screen soon drew your attention again, Joe’s eyes never having left it. Ben returned a few moments later with a large soft blanket, throwing it over the three of you as he settled back into place beside you, his arms looping around you loosely once more. During a particularly intense scene his hold on you tightened again, fingertips digging into your skin a little uncomfortably. You lay your hand over his, idly rubbing your thumb over his skin, and heard him release a shaky breath close to your ear, his grip relaxing. As the movie continued Ben tensed up more and more, pulling his feet up under him as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. A loud clap of thunder erupted outside and you felt Ben gasp, his chest rising with the sharp intake of breath. You, somewhat awkwardly, managed to bring your hand up to run your fingers softly through his hair, feeling him relax again at the comforting touch, though not enough to look at the screen properly or move out of your reach again.

When the movie ended Joe got up and walked towards the light switch. “How about I make us all a tea or coffee or something before we start the next one,” “Think Ben might need something a little stronger,” The lights flicked on and Joe turned to find Ben huddled up against you. He started laughing. “Joe! Don’t be mean!” “Sorry, but you have to admit it’s a little funny. Mr ‘im here with my muscles if you’re scared’ having to hide under a blanket,” You shot Joe a warning look before focusing back in on Ben, stroking his cheek when he sat up straight again. “You okay bub?” “Yeah, sorry, just don’t do great with horror stuff,” “You should have said, we could have watched something different,” “No no, I should have gone off and done something else. I’d seen part of that first one already though and knew it wasn’t too bad. A couple of jump scares got me but otherwise it was fine. That second one though, with the blindfolds…” he shuddered. “Aww, Benny, come ‘ere” you moved to straddle his lap, pulling him into a hug. You heard Joe scoff but ignored him as your hand slipped over Ben’s shoulder and onto his back to rub soothing circles there. “Will you stay with me tonight? Don’t think I’ll get much sleep if I’m alone,” “Of course bub, whatever you need,” “Thanks,” he gave you a small sheepish smile. “I didn’t know you don’t like horror,” Joe said suspiciously, flopping into the seat beside you and Ben, arms crossed over his chest. “Not really something that comes up much, is it?” “And you’re definitely not bullshitting us to get Y/N into bed?” “No, not at all.” “But it is a bit of a bonus,” you laughed, nudging Joe’s shoulder teasingly. “Good, because otherwise I’d have to be offended that you’d choose her over me. She’s all arms and legs, nothing like as cuddly as me,” You felt Ben’s hand fall to one of your legs, tracing lightly from your ankle up to your thigh. “They are very nice legs though.” “Very nice,” Joe’s hand mirrored Ben’s. “What are you two doing? I’m trying to be comforting here,” “Can think of a few ways you could comfort me, love. Both of you. Only fair.”

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you as Joe turned Ben’s head, the fingers on his chin pulling him into a soft, warm kiss. Ben’s hands slipped towards your arse, holding you securely against him as you raked your fingers through his hair. Your lips replaced Joe’s as he pulled back, shifting onto his knees so he could better reach Ben’s neck, leaving a trail of love bites in his wake. The longer you and Joe lavished attention on Ben, switching between sucking at his pulse point and pressing your lips to his, the needier he got. Small, contented sighs and hums rose up in his throat, contrasted by how hard he was growing under you. His fingers pressed into you as he encouraged you to rock against him, bucking up when either of you made him feel particularly good, until he couldn’t take it anymore. “Wait,” he rasped, holding you still as Joe sat back on his knees. “Tell me what you want, bub.” “Mouth, please,” Grinning, you slid off his lap, pushing the blanket aside. You tapped his ankle to get him to open his legs wider so you could kneel between them. Ben groaned when you ran your finger along the outline of his still clothed dick, teasing him a little more before you pulled his joggers down and set him free. “Don’t worry Benny,” you leaned forward and let a long string of saliva drip over Ben’s cock, “gonna make you feel so good you’ll forget all about the movie.” He swore as you took him in your hand, pumping his entire length once, twice, before closing your lips around him. You lowered your head until you felt him hit the roof of your mouth and then came back up, tongue dragging along his underside. You didn’t quite let him fall from your mouth, waiting until the last moment to sink back down until he was once again hitting the roof of your mouth. Looking up through your lashes you saw both boys staring at you. Ben’s cheeks were flushed, his hand balled up into a fist, clutching the blanket he’d brought earlier. Joe was looking at you intently, lip pulled between his teeth. He had one hand tangled in Ben’s hair, the other lay still against Ben’s stomach as if it’d been about to slip under his jumper when he’d become distracted. Not that you could blame him.

A loud groan from Ben broke through the air as you came up for a breath. “Please don’t sto- oh fuck,” he whined as you sunk back down, letting him slip into your throat. “She is very good at that, isn’t she,” Joe said, blinking himself free of the trance you’d put him under. Ben managed to choke out a noise that sounded like agreement, but he was much too distracted to articulate anything properly. You pulled up again, stroking him in the absence of your mouth, as you gave your jaw a moment to relax, relishing the way he whined so needily. “Go on, keep going,” Joe palmed at the front of his own pants, “not very nice to make the poor boy wait,” “Hmm, funny how I’m doing all the work here,” “You don’t need my help, princess, got it completely under control,” “That’s true,” you chuckled, lightly squeezing Ben’s balls and making him gasp, just to prove it. “Babe, as fun as listening to you and Joe talk is, you’ve started something and I need you to finish it.” “Sorry bub,” you giggled, dropping a kiss to his thigh and then another to his cock. Joe leaned his head on Ben’s shoulder, settling in to watch the show and you once again stretched your mouth around Ben, taking him as deep as you were able. You put everything you had into the blowjob, using everything you knew about Ben to drive him towards his release. His pretty moans only rose in volume as you bobbed up and down, swirling your tongue over his tip, gagging as you took him deep. Hollowed cheeks and cupped balls, finger nails lightly running along the spots you knew were most sensitive. You could hear Joe, cooing at Ben, telling him how lovely he sounded moaning your name, how hot it was to watch, encouraging him. “Gonna cum for us? Gonna show Y/N how much you like her mouth wrapped around your cock? She’s been so good. Earned a reward. C’mon, cum all over her tongue, give her something to swallow.” It wasn’t the first time you’d heard one of your boys encourage the other to finish in or on you, but it still hit you hard, making you feel more aroused than you already were. You hummed around his cock, trying to convey your own encouragement wordlessly, the vibrations enough to push him over the edge. Ben swore as he came, rutting into your mouth as you milked every drop from him, Joe praising him and you softly.

You stood up, stretching with a small moan before reclaiming your place on Ben’s lap, “how was that? Feel better?” “Mmhmm, much,” he said, lips bitten and eyes soft, fingers dropping to your knee, rubbing at the indent the carpet had made. “Good,” you leaned forward with the intention of kissing Ben but Joe stopped you, taking you by the chin, his thumb skimming over the corner of your mouth. “Missed some,” he said, dragging his thumb over your lip. It tasted like Ben when he slipped it onto your tongue. “Go on, suck,” he said, watching you just long enough to ensure you did as you were told before turning to Ben, “y’know, I don’t think it’s right that she gets away so easy,” “What d’you mean? “Don’t you want to punish her a little? Give her a little taste of her own medicine?” “Again I ask, what do you mean?” “She really deserves some sort of payback for putting you through all that,” You grabbed Joe’s arm and tugged his hand away, “If I remember correctly it was you who chose the movie,” “Shhhhh, princess,” he said, covering your mouth with his other hand, almost laughing, “that’s not important. What’s important is that it was your idea to have a horror movie night in the first place. And I’m ready to watch you squirm.” “I take it you have an idea then,” “Yuuuup,” he popped the ‘p’, “I’m thinking blindfolds, I’m thinking restraints, I’m thinking….hmm…maybe some edging, who knows?” “Babe? You okay with it?” You wriggled on Ben’s lap, trying to subtly relieve some of the pressure that had only built with each of Joe’s ideas, “uh, yeah, yeah sounds fun,” “I knew you’d be wet for it,” Joe smirked as he got up to retrieve the supplies.

“Hey,” Ben said softly as Joe left the room, drawing your attention away from the doorway, “thank you, for before,” “It was a blowjob Ben, and probably not the last one you’ll get from me, no need to thank me so seriously,” “No, I meant for before that. You kept me much calmer than I felt during the movie. Just, y’know, letting me lean on you and the way you held my hand and stuff,” Ben’s eyebrows furrowed, “I’m not articulating it well, but you really did help,” “Well, you’re welcome,” you pushed a strand of hair behind his ear, “I just did what I would have wanted. What you’ve done when you’ve comforted me.” Ben pulled you into a hug, arms tight around your back as your head fell under his chin. “I don’t say this very often, Y/N, but I’m really glad we started doing this. And that we’re back to normal.” “Me too,” you laughed, “best sex I’ve ever had.” Ben laughed too, “well yeah, there’s that, but everything else too. I..” You could feel Ben’s heart beating under your hand, it sped up as he considered his next words. “At the risk of opening a can of worms… I don’t exactly know what we are or what to call this. But, it… it means a lot to me. You and Joe mean a lot to me. And,” You waited, holding your breath, Ben’s heart hammering against your palm. “maybe I shouldn’t say this while Joe’s not around but I… I think I –” “Found a blindfold!” Joe was practically bouncing as he came back into the room though he stopped when he saw you pushing yourself off Ben’s chest to sit up again, “Am I interrupting something?” One glance at Ben told you he didn’t want to say any more about it just yet, though you thought you could guess where he’d been heading before the interruption. “You caught us Joe, took so long we got impatient and squeezed in a quickie. Y’know Ben’s a cuddler afterwards.” “Ha ha, very funny,” he waved a piece of material in your face, “found a bandana in one of Ben’s cupboards. Not sure why he has one but it’s our good fortune he does otherwise I would’ve had to cut up a shirt.” “I dressed up as a cowboy for a party once,” Ben shrugged, “never got rid of the costume.” “Good thing because I’m definitely going to need to see you in it. I feel like you’d make a very sexy cowboy, don’t you Joe?” “Definitely. ��Specially if he’s wearing the assless chaps I found too,” “Oh fuck off, I don’t own any assless chaps and you both know it,” “But now I know what to get you for Christmas,” “Don’t you dare,” “Why not?” “Cause I already got some for him,” Ben jerked his thumb as Joe, a cheeky smile lighting up his face at the joke. “Alright alright, enough assless chaps. Only one of us has had a chance to get off so far and that needs to change. So, blindfold.” He held the bandana up and moved behind you, looping it over your eyes and tying it toff tightly behind your head. “Can you see?” “Nope,” “Okay good,” You felt hands wrap around your waist pulling you backwards off Ben’s lap, feet landing on the carpet unsteadily. Before you’d even balanced yourself Joe was speaking in your ear, adrenalin and anticipation already pumping through your veins making your breath come quick. “You think you can get to Ben’s room without being able to see?” You were distracted momentarily by the warmth of Ben’s body pressing close to your front, his hands inching the hem of your shirt up. “Well? Do you?” “Yes, I think so yes,” There was a beat as Ben pulled your shirt off over your head, the noise of it rustling in your ears, your shoulders tightening as the chilly air hit you. You put your hands out in front of you, trying to find Ben and the warmth that came with him, but he was gone, moved out of reach once more. All you got was Joe, making sure the placement of the makeshift blindfold hadn’t been disrupted, and then a sudden quiet as the TV was switched off, whichever trailer had been playing in the background cut off mid-sentence. “Pants too, princess,” Joe said, snapping the waistband of the flannel pyjamas you wore. You hurried to wriggle out of them, the cold nipping at your bare skin. As soon as you were left in just your underwear Joe took your hand and led you away from the couch. “Okay, we’re going to go to Ben’s room,” he spun you around once, hands firm on your shoulders, “and you’re going to join us,” another spin, “and you’re going to be quick about,” a third spin, “because the longer you take the less chances you’ll have to cum.” He grabbed your shoulders, holding your firmly while you tried to shake the disorienting dizziness. “Take too long, princess, and you’ll end up completely denied until we decide you’ve earned more.” And then his hands left you, the soft pad of his bare feet disappearing somewhere towards the bedroom, any trace of Ben already gone, leaving you completely alone and unable to see.

You took a deep breath, trying to stop the vague panic that was already welling in your gut. In your mind you tried to conjure the layout of Ben’s house, looking at it from overhead, tracing the rooms from the lounge where you assumed you still were. Study, kitchen, bathroom, bedrooms, theoretically you knew where they all were but you had no idea which direction you were facing, no clue which part of the room you were in. But you couldn’t stand there forever. You’d either freeze or, worse, end up denied an orgasm for who knows how long. You had to start somewhere so you took a tentative step forward, arms held out in front to locate any obstacles you might run into. When nothing blocked your path you took another and another, hoping to find one of the two doorways out of the room. Your ears strained for any sound that might help you, any clue to your location, or theirs. The hum of some electronic left idle, the drip of a tap not turned off tight enough, hushed voices, anything. But the storm, still raging outside, interfered too much. All you could hear was the trees being whipped around by the wind and every so often a clap of thunder. Your steps were slow, careful, deliberate. The last thing you wanted was to kick a chair or a table by accident, or trip over something your outstretched arms didn’t catch. But you knew you were going too slowly. A clock ticked in your head, counting each lost second. You didn’t know how long too long was, five minutes? Ten?

Your hands hit something hard. Carefully you stretched a foot out too, toes brushing against a skirting board. A wall. Your heart leapt. A wall you could work with, follow until you found a doorway. The only question was left or right. You hesitated for a moment and then picked left, just because. You hoped that was the universe or something putting you on the right path, not a mistake. You held one hand against the wall as you walked, trying to remember what objects were against the walls in Ben’s lounge area. There was the TV of course and a large bookshelf. Maybe something hanging on a wall. Or did he take that down? You couldn’t quite remember. You felt more confident, steps faster now that you had something solid to follow. The wall led you to a doorway. You just had to work out which room you were in to know if you were on the right path. Tentatively, you left the wall, counting the number of steps you took so you could find your way back. Your hands waved through the air in front of you, searching for something to use as a point of reference. They landed on a smooth surface. It was large and cool. You had a suspicion of what it was, trailing your hands along it until the feeling changed. You tapped your nails on the new surface, a metallic sound reverberating around you. The sound made you smile, confirmed what you thought. It was the kitchen bench and you’d found the sink. You felt around to double check, finding first an upturned glass and then the tap, breathing a sigh of relief. You knew where you were and you knew where to go now. Finding Ben’s room shouldn’t be any trouble. You followed the bench until it met the wall and then followed the wall to the doorway. From there it was just a matter of weaving through rooms, trying not to bump into furniture. You didn’t even have to stick to the wall now that you knew which direction you were facing.

“There she is,” Ben said as you entered a doorway, “clever girl.” “Cold girl,” you shivered slightly, the chill getting to you more now that you didn’t have fear driving you ever onwards. “Think we can have you warmed up in no time,” he said, grabbing your hand and pulling you forward. “Can I take my blindfold off yet?” “Silly question, princess. Want to keep you on your toes.” Joe’s voice was closer than you’d expected, making you jump a little. He pressed a kiss to the back of your shoulder as he unhooked your bra. Ben was already sliding your panties down your legs, on his knees in front of you. You gasped when he leaned in to lick you, not expecting the sudden burst of pleasure. It was amplified by Joe, rolling your nipples between his fingers, both of them working in tandem to draw a moan from you. “Well aren’t you just dripping,” Ben mumbled against you, tongue delving back into your folds, dragging up towards your clit. “Guess it’s true what they say about fear being an aphrodisiac,” Joe chuckled, the sound sending a tingle down your spine. “Christ, guys,” you panted, dropping your hands to tangle in Ben’s hair, trying to press him closer. “Uh uh uh,” Joe tutted in your ear, grabbing your hands by the wrist and pulling them away, Ben wincing a little as you tugged on his hair. He stood back up and you felt yourself be turned around, a sharp slap landing on your backside to push you forward. You hit the bed, closer to falling onto the mattress than climbing in gracefully. But it didn’t matter. As soon as you were down you were pulled into place, Ben climbing in beside you. He still wore pants, though no shirt, your hands running over his chest, feeling his muscles move as he propped himself up on his elbow and leaned in to kiss you. You felt one arm be pulled over your head and heard a click. “Bastards!” you laughed, “Didn’t have to trick me. Would’ve happily let you cuff me. And why’d you only do one anyway?” “Well, love, since Joe was so patient watching you be a greedy little cock whore before, it’s only fair that I get to watch him fuck you. And we all know what you’re needy fucking moans do to me, so your hand is free so you can be helpful and wank me.” You clenched your thighs together, trying to block out the desire coursing through you so you could work out where Joe was. The mystery was solved when he got onto the foot of the bed, prying your legs apart and shuffling between them. You tried to squirm away as he pinched your bum but it only made him and Ben laugh. “Now, princess,” Joe said, making you twitch as he tapped his fingers against your thigh, “remember you don’t get to cum without our permission.” “I know,” “Good. Wouldn’t want to have to punish you, would we?” “I get the feeling you actually would,” The tapping turned into a slap, “naughty, might have just extended your denial.” You groaned, half in response to his threat, half because of the way it felt when he slid two fingers into you, pausing to let you get your bearings before he began to move them. “So wet, even without Ben getting a proper go at eating you out,” “You can thank me for it anyway. Been wet since she was on her knees.” Ben took your hand, crossing it over your body towards him. You heard him summon a wad of saliva before he drew his tongue along your palm and then led you to his cock. You’d missed him pulling his pants down, or off, too distracted by everything else that was happening.

Your mind whirred with the mix of sensations, trying to focus and to keep abreast of any changes around you. The ticklish fuzzy texture of the cuff around your wrist. Ben’s deep voice near your ear as he called you a good girl between breaths and pleased sighs, the feel of his cock getting harder under your hand and the warmth of having him so close beside you. Joe’s fingers pumping and out of your wet cunt, the stretch, the sound as his speed picked up, his other hand on your thigh, holding you open, slapping you every so often just to make you jolt in shock at the sound and sting of it. You tried to listen for any rustle of clothing or creak of the bed that might warn you what was to come but it was useless, every shift and adjustment taking you by surprise. Your own breath sped up as Joe fingered you, adjusting the angle of his attack to draw whimpers and gasps from you. And then the sudden emptiness as he pulled his hand away. You whined, hoping it’d make him quicker to give you more, but it didn’t work. Instead you listened as he offered his fingers, coated in your arousal, to Ben. Listened as Ben sucked them clean. Felt the wet trail as Joe wiped them across your stomach.

Your breath hitched when you felt Joe slide his cock along your pussy, your hips rising to meet him each time he nudged your clit. You must have looked desperate, judging from the way Joe chucked. He was sick of waiting but he enjoyed teasing you. Entering you slowly, letting you feel every inch of him. It gave you time to adjust to his size while still making you crave more. And then pulling your legs up over his shoulders, changing the angle ever so slightly, making you feel tighter, fuller. “You okay princess?” “Mmhmm, please just move already,” He didn’t need telling twice, holding your legs steady against him as he set a brutal pace. Once Joe sped up so did Ben. He’d kept your movements over his cock slow and steady, not wanting things to escalate too quickly, but at the sight of you writhing under Joe, moaning and panting he couldn’t help himself. He held your wrist still as he thrust up into your hand, taking control. You were glad to let him, too preoccupied with Joe pounding into you, rubbing circles on your clit. Knowing you were trapped between them, being used without knowing if you’d get to feel your own release, only turned you on more. Another thrust from Joe, particularly well timed to coincide with a very firm touch to your clit had you moaning that you were close.” “Hold it,” Joe grunted, relentless in his movements. You nodded, biting your lip, unable to form words that weren’t senseless begging. He didn’t slow down or remove his fingers from you though, and, afraid you wouldn’t be able to hold off unless he removed some of the stimulation he was giving you, you whimpered. “Please Joe, I c-can’t, I can’t,” “Can’t what, slut?” “I need to cum, please, please, please,” You thought for sure that Joe was going to stop touching you, or else you’d fall over the edge without permission, be punished and left without release for weeks. Instead you heard Ben tell you to cum, voice strained as he neared his own climax. You moaned loud as you followed his instruction, back arching off the bed and toes curling. Joe’s grip on your legs tightened as he held off his own orgasm long enough to fuck you through yours, pulling out and coating your stomach in his seed. Ben finished over your hand within seconds, gasping your name.

You were panting when you felt Ben collapse beside you, placing your cum covered hand on your stomach alongside the splatters Joe had left there. Joe stood up and uncuffed you before sagging down on your other side. “You can take the blindfold off, love,” Ben said softly as he snuggled into your side. You blinked at the sudden bright light. The first clear thing you saw was Joe smiling at you, leaning in to kiss your temple. “You okay?” “Yeah, great, just gotta catch my breath a bit,” “Ben, you good?” “Mmhmm. Give me like ten minutes and I’ll be ready to go on,” “Go on?” “Didn’t think that was all you’d get, did you?” “It isn’t?” “Ben’s convinced he wont get a wink of sleep without fucking himself, and consequently us, into exhaustion.” “Besides, you got back to the room really fast,” the blonde mumbled against you, “so if anything you earned a lot more. Like, us eating you out for hours a lot.” You couldn’t help but laugh, as your boys snuggled closer. Perhaps it was the high you were still coming down from, or the giddiness that came from knowing you’d essentially beaten the challenge they set you, or just the warm safety you felt lying between them, but whatever it was you found your heart pounding as you cleared your throat. “Hey, guys?” Both responded in wordless noises to show they were listening. “I love you. Both of you.” Your heart was in your throat, brain automatically trying to spin a way to unsay the words you’d just let slip. Their silence seemed to drag on for a thousand years as you waited breathlessly for their response. Ben moved first, though Joe wasn’t far behind, leaning over to kiss you deeply, saying the words softly back against your lips. Joe pressed a string of kisses along your jaw, kissing you properly once Ben had backed away, smiling as he said it too.

#my writing #ben hardy smut #joe mazzello smut #ben hardy x reader #joe mazzello x reader #ben hardy x reader x joe mazzello #ben hardy imagine #joe mazzello imagine #sorry it's a bit late!!#also long lmao #i wanted to flesh out the relationship #and then suddenly i was 4k words in and hadn't even got to the smut #i just really like writing fun banter and soft boys lmao #halloqueen #halloqueenevent

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voltageapps · 3 months

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November 23 is the birthday of Kunio Muroi from Liar! Season 1: Uncover the Truth 🎀

Happy belated birthday Kunio!

Friendly reminder to join our Discord server to check on our Liar! Game Remake Project: http://discord.gg/voltageinc

#voltageinc #voltage inc #voltage otome #otome romance #otome #otome game #liar uncover the truth #kunio muroi #birthday

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kazdumps · 3 years

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"Master Saihara, you are quite tense," Shuichi looked up from his book, not that he was reading it, to see the man who approached him. He could tell by the voice, but the fact the other could so easily sneak up on him was telling enough who it was.

"Ah, Kiyo... I guess I am. Just stressed," Shuichi told his butler, trying to be vague without flat out lying.

It was stress, but one of "Oh, oh dear I'm not good enough. I never was, I should've never been given 'Ultimate Progeny' instead of induced by a project. 'I just come from two of the most wealthiest stars in the movie industry, that's not talent that's just being born into the right family' kind. The one that would fully consume his mind.

He was lucky Kiyo would be attending the school as well this spring; at least he'd know someone personally.

[Though why would his poor butler forced to serve him want to stick around with him? Certainly he could just go be a normal teenager...].

"Hmm, this indeed is a time of turmoil for many young people," He wanted to remind him that he was a 'young people' too. "... I have an idea to release some of your stress, Master Saihara. Would you like me to proceed with it as a surprise or explain to you in detail?"

"Uhh, surprise," He usually liked any plan the butler had made, and at the moment he surely wouldn't be able to listen to his in depth explanation.

" It will not be long," He bowed politely, his long green pony tail dipping only for a moment to the side before he stood back up and readjusted it.

Then, without another moments hesitation, left. He appeared to be walking upstairs, but since they did indeed live in a mansion this wasnt too surprisingly nor gave away what he was doing. The only thing it told was it couldn't be some sort of snack or drink, as that would mean he'd have to head to his left. Perhaps he was setting up a game of cards? No, he'd just have Shuichi come to the billiards room with him and play at the game table.

His mind was still going over the possibilities when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Stiffining his body he looked up.

" Would you please follow me? I have done all the preparations that I could do without your presence," The butler said, his voice like velvet.

Through all the years, he much perfered when the other announced himself first. One time he joked that he should wear a bell around the house. Kiyo's reply was he'd add that to the shopping list right away and Shuichi, embarrassed, had to explain that it wasn't to be taken seriously. He noticied the way he (accidently) snuck up on people the other staff members tended to be afraid of him.

It didn't shock him too much, his stature alone was able to intimidate. His eccentric style and odd (though it tended to be polite) manner of speaking left others uneasy. Shuichi found he appreciated the others company but... he knew others didn't.

["He's a creep, and the next time I see him snooping in the kitchen-" She was a young server but that didn't stop him from glaring at her from across the room. She bit her lip, but the others around her didn't get the memo.

"Your right, I dont care if he's the butler. I say there's something wrong with him and I'd rather die then be in a room alone with him. I swear I caught him just staring at me, and when I asked him what he was doing he had the audacity to start to explain the most mundane facts. The freak would probably-" He'd left the room, one of the few times he'd ever been furious at another human being. It was some years ago, but it was the first time ever he actually wrote one of the staff up.

She was fired several days later... the anger still burned in his stomach but the fire of it died. He hadn't know how to react and simply stared out the window for the majority of the day.

"It is alright Master Saihara," The butler stood beside him, a hand resting on the top of Shuichi's chair. "I may not know what she did to gain the wrath of your parents, but it is not for you to fret over. She was undoubtedly talented at serving so she shall swiftly find a new job and not be left in the cold. And she had a very friendly demeanor which can only help her search."

Shuichi just bit his lip, trying not to think of all the horrid things she was going to (and probably had said before) about him. ]

They arrived in a room he knew well, it was his room of all places.

"Kiyo, is this... the right place?"

"Indeed, but it is only our starting point," he titled his head in the direction to a slightly ajar door, he could see the lights had been turned on and the smell of soap wafted in the air.

Oh, a bath. He couldn't help but smile. A warm bath was indeed relaxing.

Before he could thank his companion, he felt his waist coat being taken off. Korekiyo carefully laid it on the bed and returned to his side already undoing his collar.

"K-kiyo- Um-" Shuichi could feel his entire body heat up.

"Hmm? Is something the matter?" He titled his head to the side, his composure perfect.

"Oh, it's just been awhile since you've... um undressed me is all. I've done it by myself- hell it's been years-"

"Yes, that is due to the fact you are a capable young man. However, I hope this is not humiliating, but I belive you should be treated with care. It is why I drew up the bathe, while it's been years since I bathed you I thought you'd still feel comfort in it. Part of being human is to yearn for what once was in youth, don't you agree Master Saihara?"

Shuichi shook his head yes, as hands traveled to his collar. The bandaged (why he didn't wear gloves like a usual butler was beyond him, and he never thought to question it in earlier years) fingers meticulously fulfilling their task and ensuring the fabric didn't tear.

He tried not to let the heat in his cheeks show, choosing to look up at the ceiling in an attempt to hide. Yes, it was normal for a butler to undress one's master but...

[ He rembered the first night where his friend crept into his mind to reside in his dreams. It was after his thirteenth birthday, and he'd gone to bed like any other time. However, when darkness was upon him, his mind wandered and he found himself thinking back to when he stole a look at Kiyo's lips. It was a complete accident, but the cherry red of them lingered in his mind. He wondered if they'd taste as sweet as the fruit he compared them to.

That was what started it all. Now, he had day-dreams from time to time (all the time- he really should learn not to lie to himself). A guilty pleasure that he chose to lock away and throw away the key to thinking It be possible in reality. ]

His eyes focused back to reality, where he was no undressed. His friend, the definition of proper, hadn't even flushed a bit.

"Thank you," He quietly said while the other began to guide him to the bath "I really... appreciate you trying to help me like this."

"It is nothing that is a great burden to me. Afterall, for you to be satisfied is my purpose in this household."

... phrasing... phrasing... if he knew his friend wouldn't take it personally he'd tell him to work on phrasing.

Shuichi sat in the tub, soon water poured down his head. Fingers floated across his head, maneuvering through his hair and gently brushing on his scalp.

He closed his eyes, and let his companion take over. Pink still lingered on his cheeks, but the warm water washed away his previous embarrassment.

[He wanted to reach up and place a hand behind his ears. To tease before taking the mask off Kiyo and insisting he join in. If he was a bolder man perhaps he'd try, but anxiety plagued both mind and heart.

Still, his imagination wandered. Maybe he could even let the other sit in lap, after all the tub was only meant for one person.

Body to body pressed against each other... no, Kiyo could scarcely take off his bandages; being completely naked suddenly would be beyond him, even in a fantasy setting]

"I have finished with the shampoo, Master Saihara, do you wish to wash your own body or would you like me to continue?"

"I-I can wash myself. Thank you though," He stammered out.

"My pleasure."

[His body being touched... he'd worry about that. Not that Kiyo would do anything wrong, but he didn't trust how his body would react.]

#uncompleted

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thevengeanceuniverse · 4 years

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Truce? Ch 4.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25622497/chapters/63663991

“Hey, Tony, can we talk?” Steve stayed outside the door of the lab, projecting his voice through the air to get Tony’s attention. The other man continued in his actions, metal clanking on metal had he pushed various items across a table to clear space.

“You would think after the letter you sent that I never answered, the calls you made that I never picked up and the voicemails you left that I never returned, that you would get the message, Rogers.” Tony mused, pinning him with a frank stare. “You’re a master tactician, aren’t you? Learn to take the hint.”

Steve held up his hands placatingly, “I just need a few minutes.”

“Oh, but you see,” Tony shrugged, voice faux regretful, “that’s a few minutes too long since I have nothing to say to you and you have nothing to say that I want to listen to.”

When Steve made no move to leave, Tony huffed out an exasperated breath. “You have ten minutes. JARVIS, start the timer.”

Under his deadline, Steve stumbled over his tongue as he thought about everything he needed to say, all the words that had crowded his correspondence to Tony that hadn’t been returned. There was remorse for his actions, a sadness that the team was still broken under the surface, but at least the bitterness that Tony bothered to give Bucky a second chance when he could barely afford to give Steve a second had softened with time. Those few initials months, seeing his boyfriend and his…friend/ex-friend/teammate?—his Tony, be all friendly and carefree with each other had been a bitter pill to swallow.

Pushing aside those negative thoughts, he squared his shoulders and jumped right into it.

“I know you love Bucky.” He took a few measured steps forward, watching the way that Tony tensed at his approach before dropping his welder and mask to the ground with a resounding thud. Just like every other time they had come head to head, Tony stepped up and looked at Steve straight in his eyes, flinty and challenging.

Steve felt the inappropriate urge to smile.

“I don’t care about Bucky,” Tony denied, just as Steve predicted he would. “The entire thing was just a charade, Rogers, you know that.”

Tony’s unwillingness to bend had been the one thing that Steve enjoyed about him the most, even as it infuriated him. Only Tony never stared at him awestruck, never looked at him as if all he saw was Captain America, the symbol, the hero. No, to Tony, Steve had always been flawed, had always been human and it wasn’t until he was seen again by those whiskey eyes that he realized how much he missed Tony’s gaze, his presence.

“We both know that’s not true. You went from almost killing him and barely being able to stand him to giving him the best birthday present ever. Someone who didn’t care wouldn’t have bothered to do all that,” Steve pushed, blue eyes flickering between brown, taking in the stiff set of Tony’s spine and the way his hand twitched into a fist before he forced it straight. But still, he didn’t say anything.

It was different than with Bucky. In Bucky’s gaze was the reminder that he didn’t need to be superhuman to be worth something. It was true what he had said, Even when I had nothing I had Bucky. He has always had love when he had Bucky, even when the man himself didn’t even fully remember who he was and what they had together, they had love enough to reunite them, to help them rebuild.

Tony was something else entirely. Tony didn’t remind him that he was worth something even without the serum, no, Tony made him want to be better than what the serum made him. Be more than even he thought he was capable of being.

He would probably hate to hear it, but Tony was part of the reason Steve chose to turn against everything he had in order to save Bucky. Because even while Tony had pleaded to him not to go, Tony was also the kind of man who would do the exact same in his shoes. He never hesitated to give up everything and anything for the ones he loved, even if he only had the slimmest chance of saving them.

Steve might have put a plane down in the Arctic when he lost Bucky, but it was Tony who taught him the true meaning of sacrifice.

“You look at him the same way you used to look at Pepper,” Steve continued cautiously, balancing the part of him that wanted to say fuck it with diplomacy and the part that wanted to be careful of old hurts. “Are you hiding it because of me?”

Steve had been observing Tony from the moment he had come back to life after the Chitauri and that’s why he knew how Tony felt about Bucky just from the look in his eyes. Because whether Tony wanted to acknowledge it or not, they knew each other deeper than just friends. And however much he wanted to deny it, Tony Stark loved all too easily.

Tony glared. “I’m not hiding anything,” he denied again, quiet anger overlaying his words. “You’re the one with the specialty in that, remember?”

Steve winced at the harsh words but Tony’s glare didn’t shift. “Listen, Cap, you and your freeze-dried fella may share a brain and that’s fine. But don’t come down here and expect that we’re just going to braid each other’s hair and trade gossip about each other’s crushes like two bubblegum poppin’ preteens.”

Deciding that his face could take the damage if it came down to blows, Steve nodded shortly before daring to step closer until there was only a foot between them. “You’re right.”

Tony watched him, saying nothing but at least he wasn’t looking longingly at Steve’s nose as if he was contemplating reshaping it anymore.

“It was stupid of me to just assume that written apologies would undo months of distance.” He raised his hand, palm up, open and hanging between them like a peace offering. “Truce? Just for this conversation?”

Tony eyed at the hand between them as if it was a poisonous snake about to strike. Eyes shifting from Steve’s earnest expression to his hand hanging in the open air, he released a disgusted huff. “You and Frosty are way too similar.”

“Is that a yes?” Steve wiggled his fingers in what he hoped was an enticing way, immediately feeling ridiculous.

“Fine, truce, for now.” Tony reached out and shook his hand and Steve inwardly grinned, a mixture of relief and hope coursing through him.

The hope dimmed somewhat when instead of letting go immediately, Tony gazed at their joined hands in contemplation.

“You know what the worst part is?” he said, voice serious. “Now that I know him, I understand why you were driven to do what you did. But I still can’t forgive you.”

Solemn blue met whiskey brown.

“I know. I know that nothing I say is going to make up for the fact that I lied to you about the death of your parents. If it means anything, I do regret that I didn’t tell you sooner, that I hid it from you in the first place.” Unbidden, Steve’s throat choked up, remembering the betrayal on Tony’s face at the Siberian bunker, the hurt as he asked if Steve had known.

“I was just so focused on protecting Bucky, I didn’t let myself think about how you would feel about it. I meant to tell you eventually, but everything happened so quickly—” he cut himself off, shaking his head.

“No, that’s an excuse. Honestly, I was afraid to tell you. Afraid of how you’d react, of causing pain by digging up something that was already traumatic—and I pushed it to the side so I wouldn’t have to deal with it. I’m sorry, so truly sorry, Tony, you have no idea.”

Tony said nothing, heart hanging onto Steve’s every word even as he cursed himself for being affected. God damn those earnest blue eyes, now shadowy in a way that said that the supersoldier knew loss all too well. Even angry, Tony couldn’t help but feel a desire to offer comfort for the man he had considered not just a teammate, but a friend.

“I know how hard it was for me to lose my mother, God rest her soul,” Steve continued, raising a hand and tugging it through his locks, lips twisted in a humourless smile. “If the truth about her death had been covered up in some way and one of my friends hid it from me?” Steve shook his head, eyes distant as he relived those days after Sarah Rogers passed, the pain of loss, the disbelief, the shock—as if he was numb and in agony all at once. “I would be devastated. You deserved more than that, deserved better from me as your friend and I feel horrible about that, especially knowing now that when you did find out, someone would be using your grief as a mere manipulative tool to hurt all of us.”

Sighing heavily, Steve waited for Tony’s response, wondering how different things would be if he had been honest from the beginning. If navigating the Accords hadn’t had made a powder keg of the entire situation. If Tony hadn’t been treated as a scapegoat for Sokovia. If, if, if.

“Is that all you came to say?” Tony’s tone was carefully neutral, but Steve caught the way his hand was clenched, a slight tremble visible in his fingers that gave Steve hope that maybe, something he said had penetrated.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Tony decided, moving towards the door of the lab and ordering JARVIS to shut down and lock up. “I’m going to need a drink if this conversation continues the way it started.”

#post-civil war #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #winterironshield #stuckony #stony #winteriron #stucky #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #vengeanceworks

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chicagocityofclans · 3 years

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Fenrin Gustafsson → Austin Butler → Witch

→ Basic Information

Age: 575

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Bisexual

Powers: Aquakinesis

Birthday: March 14th

Zodiac Sign: Pisces

Religion: Norse Paganism

Mark: Unknown

Generation: Presumed 2nd Generation

→ His Personality

Most of the time Fenrin is like the sea on a calm summer's day. That is to say that he is easy going, warm and friendly, spending most of his time just going with the flow. He’ll invite you to join him for coffee, even if you’ve never met before, and then insist you stay for cake two hours later when you say you should leave. His relaxed nature can also put people at ease when they’re around him. This often means he makes a good teacher and a good sailing partner. He doesn’t rattle easy, managing to stay calm even in the stormiest of waters when out sailing as well as in life.

On the flip side he can be quite impulsive. One minute its calm waters, the next a torrent of activity. When he decides to do something he doesn’t give it much thought, he just does it. But whatever he does he tries to do well; putting his all into every detail. This goes for people too. He lets people in easily and once he’s decided you're a friend you can expect him to be there for you whenever you need him for the rest of your life.

→ His Personal Facts

Occupation: Boat Builder and Sailing Instructor

Scars: One of his right foot, One on his left arm, A few small ones on his hands

Tattoos: Old, slightly faded ones across his chest, arms and back

Two Likes: Being Outdoors and Lingonberry Juice

Two Dislikes: Electronics and Fastfood

Two Fears: The Desert and Bleeding Out

Two Hobbies: Sailing and Wood Carving

Three Positive Traits: Relaxed, Hospitable, Loving

Three Negative Traits: Impulsive, Flippant, Meticulous

→ His Connections

Parent Names:

Gustaf Henriksson (Father/deceased): he doesn’t remember much of his father as he was killed when Fenrin was still just a boy, but he does remember he was caring but strict with his children.

Aslaug Ivarsdotter (Mother/deceased): Fenrin has fond memories of his mother. She was a gentle and kind woman. His twin sister reminds him a lot of her, which is likely why she is still so clear in his memory.

Sibling Names:

Jonna Gustafsdotter (Twin sister): As is often the case with twins, Fenrin and Jonna have always been close. Where he can be changeable like the sea, she is constant like the earth. She has often stopped him from making impulsive and reckless decisions.

Ingrid Gustasdotter (Sister): Ingrid was always more independent than the rest of the family but they still share a close bond.

Children Names:

None

Romantic Connections:

Birgitta Olafsdotter (wife/deceased): She was a human he met in his youth and instantly fell in love with. Though she aged whilst he did not, he stayed with her. Their relationship changed over the years, becoming less romantic but he cared for her till the end of her life.

Platonic Connections:

Judson Cleirigh (Friend): Judson and Fenrin first met whilst surfing years ago. When they bumped into each other again in Chicago a friendship formed between them. Judson is currently using Fenrin as a lab rat for potions to help battle dehydration. Fenrin is happy to help, both as a favour for a friend and because he wouldn’t mind having such a potion.

Raul Santiago (Friend): They met last summer at the mariner one sunny day. Fenrin was preparing his boat for a trip and Raul came over to ask him about it. They got chatting and easily became friends from there.

Simon Lee Weyden (Friendly): Simon has recently reached out to Fenrin with regards to his interest in genetics and is now trying to connect Fenrin’s mark to that of others from the Norse countries. Whilst it started as Fenrin simply being a research project in Simon’s training as a Mark Keeper, they have found they get along quite well.

Simone Campbell (Friendly): Fenrin met Simone a few months ago at Anonymous where she works. They clicked pretty quickly, especially after he mentioned his love of the water and she expressed her love of swimming. After a few chats they exchanged information and have started to become friends.

Arianna Torres (Student/Friend): Ari is one of Fenrin’s sailing students but one he has come to think of as more of a friend than a student. He always looks forward to their lessons.

Vladimir Draga (Good Friend): Vlad and Fenrin have known each other for many years. They met not long after Fenrin arrived in Chicago. At first their shared histories on the high seas drew them together but a more solid friendship has grown out of that over the years.

Ezra Scultz (Friendly): Fenrin met Ezra at a local woodworkers group one of his students had told him about. As one of the only other supernaturals in the group he’d made a point of introducing himself and found that they get along quite well.

Mason Harley (Friendly): As with Ezra, Fenrin met Mason at a local group for woodworkers. As one of the only other supernaturals in the group he’d made a point of introducing himself and found that they get along quite well.

Eric Lasiter (Friend): At first Eric and Fenrin met because of business. With Eric being a master of craftsmanship and Fenrin being a master boat builder, they teamed up to make an unsinkable boat for a client. They’ve worked together since then and have formed a friendship through their time together.

Hostile Connections:

Harry Reeves (Cautious Of): A few years ago Harry electrocuted Fenrin. He’s sure it was an accident but he’s been wary of him since.

Pets:

None but he’s considering getting a dog

→ History Fenrin was born a few minutes after his twin sister, Jonna, in the northern reaches of Sweden. Both his parents were elemental witches - his mother a viking from Norway and his father a slightly younger witch native to Sweden. When they found she was pregnant they decided to travel back to his village to raise their children. Sadly Fenrin didn’t have the chance to truly get to know his father as he died shortly after Fenrin’s younger sister, Ingrid, was born. Like Fenrin, he had the gift of aquakinesis and was prone to dehydration. It was in this weakened state he was caught unaware by a bear and killed.

Growing up in their village they were always viewed as a slightly odd family, likely because his mother still hung onto many of the ways she had known in her own youth. She still took them to the small local church when the preacher visited so that they weren’t completely ostracised from their community but at home it was different. They weren’t raised to belief in one God or the Bible but instead to worship Odin, Thor, Freya and the rest of the Norse gods. It is something that Fenrin has never stopped believing in. Once they were of age she also encouraged them to get tattoos as was the custom for her people. Over the years that followed Fenrin built up a collection that spanned his arms, chest and back. The ink has faded a little over the centuries but they are still clearly visible today.

Their village was on a vast lake and before he died Fenrin’s father had been a boatbuilder. As Fenrin grew older one of his father's friends, a human, offered to teach the young witch the same trade. Wanting to be closer to the memory of his father Fenrin accepted the offer and began his training that spring. When he wasn’t working or getting some fundamental magic training from his mother, young Fenrin could be found at the lake or falling in love with a girl who lived on the other side of it. His mother warned him against falling for a human but he couldn’t help it. A few months into his courting of Birgitta an old enemy caught up with his mother. She was a powerful witch but he was stronger and she didn’t survive the fight. Fenrin would have likely killed the man himself if it weren’t for someone else getting the before him. The three siblings were naturally heart broken, the loss pulling them even closer together. They decided to leave their home in search of a mentor that might take them on and when they left Fenrin asked Birgitta to marry him, and come with them. She said yes far more quickly than he’d expected.

They married under the midnight sun on Midsummer and left for the south a week later. It was their thinking they’d have a better chance of finding others like themselves in one of the bigger cities. They were right. Fenrin and Jonna found a witch who was willing to take them both on and Ingrid found a warlock to mentor her too. The four of them, the three siblings and Fenrin’s wife, lived very happily for many decades but then things started to change. Fenrin had stopped ageing in his twenties but of course Birgitta, being human, had not. Eventually a decision was made. Jonna and Ingrid would stay with their mentors in the city whilst Fenrin and Birgitta went back to their village. By that time their relationship had changed. They still loved each other very much but it had shifted from something passionately romantic to something more platonic. Given that no one in their village knew what Fenrin was they decided to lie and say that Fenrin was in fact not himself but their son. They village brought the lie easily and they were able to stay there in peace until Birgitta passed on of old age.

Fenrin spent another year up in the north grieving her loss before he moved back to be with his sisters and resume his training. They stayed there a long time before deciding it was time to seek new mentors. At first they stayed in Sweden, moving even further south, then to Norway, then onto Scotland. It was after a while here that the three siblings went their separate ways for a time. Jonna headed south into Wales, whilst Ingrid chose to stay in Scotland. As for Fenrin, he took to the place that had been tugging at his soul since he was born - the sea. He sailed for a while on a merchant ship before bumping into a rather eccentric old warlock whilst in port. This particular warlock shared Fenrin’s abilities and spent their life permanently sailing the seven seas on their own boat. They offered for Fenrin to come with them and to mentor him whilst they sailed around the world. Fenrin stayed with them for a little over two centuries, with a few breaks in between to visit his sisters. Over those centuries he started to learn to truly master his abilities and collected a treasure chest worth of stories from the places he’d been and the things he’d done.

If he could have, he would have stayed with them longer but in the interest of learning more it eventually came time for him to find a new mentor. This meant returning to land but he made sure that he was still on the coast. Here he mentored with a witch his twin had started mentoring with a few years before. Though he missed being at sea he truly loved getting to spend time with his twin again. Once their training was declared complete at the age of 500 the twins travelled to stay with their sister for a time. Where she was though, was somewhere landlocked and eventually the river that ran through it just wasn’t enough for Fenrin. So he decided to move on but not too far, somewhere he could still easily visit his sisters. He settled on Chicago. With no training to do he set himself up as a boat builder and after a while took up teaching sailing lessons too.

→ The Present Fenrin is hoping that with time he can convince his sisters to settle in Chicago as he has but for now he’s just happy he can see them regularly. He’s started to let himself really put down roots in the city. Along with setting up his business, he’s also joined a local woodworking group and has been rekindling old friendships, as well as developing new ones. Now that he’s feeling settled he’s starting to think about becoming a mentor himself and taking on a student or two. On a slightly smaller scale he’s also considering getting a dog.

At present Fenrin lives on his boat and he doesn’t much see any reason to change that. He’s managed to make it very comfortable and knows plenty of tricks for keeping it cosy through the cold winters.

#fenrin gustafsson #taken

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toschiworlds · 4 years

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Bluebird (Devil May Cry - Hunger Games AU)

Vergil kept a stoic face as he walked up to the desk and offered his hand to the attendant. He barely registered the skin of his finger being pierced and the escaping blood pressed onto the file, lying openly on the table. His attention was centered on the large stage on the other side of the town square, flanked on all sides by the peacekeepers in their flawless white armor and the growing crowd in front of it. The attendant ordered him to move along and so he did, joining the seemingly endless stream of children and teenagers alike on the way to their designated area.

He found himself standing in the middle of group of boys his age who were quietly chatting amongst themselves. No doubt to calm their nerves. A warm hand on his shoulder and an almost inaudible ‘Hey’ made Vergil turn to his right where he came to stare into a face identical to his own. Dante looked right back, sporting his trademark lopsided grin (though it seemed to falter around the edges) and patted his older brother on the back.

“We get through this and we’re finally out of the danger zone.”, the younger twin said in a casual tone. There was truth in that. In just a few weeks was their birthday and after that, they would be too old for the Reaping. They’d be safe. Dante retreated his hand from where it rested on Vergil’s shoulder and stuffed it into his pocket. “Know what mom’s gonna cook tonight?”

“No, but I’m sure you are going to tell me in just a moment.”

“Marinated goat cheese.”

Vergil turned to shoot an icrediulous look at his brother but he simply shrugged and mumbled something along the lines of ‘neighbours gave her some leftovers’. He was about to retort, ready to explain that the cheese was too valuable to simply hand it over to someone else and that it could be sold for a good price at the market but just as he opened his, a voice echoed across the square, silencing the chatter and whispers.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome!”

The twins along with everyone else assembled directed their attention towards the stage. There, by the slim, silver microphone, stood a woman in an utterly ridiculous dress and so much make up that you could mistake her for one of the decorated cakes in the bakery. .

“Happy Hunger Games to you all. And may the odds be ever in your favor.”

Dante snorted at that, crossing his arms in front of his chest and repeated the lines in an overly dramatic way, earning a few chuckles from the other boys. Vergil simply gave a small smile to his borther’s antics. The woman on the stage seemed not to notice this and simply continued on with her speech as she announced the short movie that was being projected onto the big screen next to the stage, recounting the story of the rebellion decades ago and why the Games had to happen every year as a reminder for what their ancestor had done. The movie eventually came to a close and the screen turned grey again. “Now, the time has come for us to select one courages young man and woman for the honour of representing your district in this year’s Hunger Games.” The woman looked around the town square, as if she could already determine which of them would be up on the stage in just a few moments. “As usual, ladies first!”

She walked over to the glass box, containing the names of every girl of eligable age and stuck her hand inside. Making an unneccessarly animated wiggle of her fingers, she plucked a single white piece of paper out and returned to her position at the microphone. The tense silence made the sound of paper against nail audible to everyone. The woman cleared her throat and read the drawn name aloud:

“Patty Lowell.”

Vergil glanced over to where the girls were standing. He spotted a young girl - no older than twelve or thirteen at the most - with wavy blond hair, looking around herself as the other girls stepped away without a word. She hesitantly started walking to the edge of the roped section where the peacekeepers waited for her and escorted her to the stage. The horror on her face only increased when the desperate and pleading screams of a woman could be heard from where the parents all stood together. Vergil had to resist looking over, he had seen the despair of parents, begging for their children’s lives for the past few years. He knew what it looked like.

“And now, for the boys!” Dante took a deep breath, his entire body tense, and started fideting with his shirt’s buttons. The boy next to him, a classmate, gave him a reassuring nudge and leaned over, whispering, “It’ll be fine. It won’t be us.” He barely acknowleged his words, far too caught up in the anticipation. Vergil’s own gaze fell to the dirty ground and his dusty shoes. He closed his eyes as his own muscles betrayed his resolve to stay calm. Just this one last time. One last time and we’re done. He hoped that none of his friends would be reaped, that he wouldn’t hear his own name or worse, his brother’s. Dante was a pain in the ass and the single most annoying person he ever met but still... He knew their parents would be heartbroken if they lost the younger twin.

The sound of high heels marching across concrete stopped for a short moment before it resumed and the woman once again stood in front of the crowd, another name, another person to be placed under the axe, in hand. The few silent seconds that between the opening of the paper and the announcement felt like an eternity, like torture of the worst kind. Finally, the woman cleared her throat again and sucked in a breath as her lips began to part.

“Dante Sparda!”

For a moment, he thought that he must have misheard that. His riled up mind must be playing a trick on him. He lifted his head, body half turned and mouth opened to say something but then he saw it.

All colour had drained from Dante’s already pale face, his eyes were wide open in shock... and fear. And the realization hit him. He had not misheard. It had been his brother’s name that had been drawn. It had been his little brother’s name that had been drawn. Vergil stared in disbelief as the other boys started clearing out of the way, his own feet refusing to work. “Come now, dear. Don’t be shy.”, the woman encouraged, a sickenly false tone of friendliness in her voice. Two peacekeepers had already started moving towards them, hands near the weapons in Dante defended himself.

The boy in question had not moved, hadn’t even breathed. To see his brother like that, trembling and shaking like a leaf in the wind... He wasn’t sure what it made him feel, an emotion he had never known before. What Vergil did next could be considered reckless if not downright stupid but the words escaped his mouth before his brain had the chance to catch up.

“I volunteer.”

#Devil May Cry #DMC #Vergil #Dante #Patty #Hunger Games AU #Toschi Writes #sorry if I get anything wrong #I haven't read the books #only saw the movies #But the idea just sprang to mind #and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote this.

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hairasuntouchedaspartoftheamazon · 4 years

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Okay Tumblr, I’m about to do a stupid thing and ask for validation on some of my original writing. I’ve been working on a novel for a while now, and while I don’t have nearly as much to show for it as I would like, I do have this prologue.

The story it is is attached to is long and complicated and queer and magical and I love it. My question to you fine internet denizens is: after reading this prologue, would you keep reading this book?

(If you have follow up questions about this story at all, please ask because I love blabbing about this and I’m considering making a side blog just about this story because I want to develop it and hopefully get it published one day)

My buds: @a-l-ias @madre-des-leones @books-andbiscuits @chihuahuapowersgo @oopstheregoesthatlifeofmine @ivneess @elissastillstands @i-am-triple-a @becca-becky @goddess-of-fluff (You are all under absolutely no obligation to read this, I just think you’ll get a kick out of it)

So, without any further ado, I give you the prologue to Cheshire Moon:

Prologue: In Which It’s The End of the World As We Know It

Here is the boy on his bicycle. It is a dark and stormy night, a strange night for a bike ride. A Monday night as it would happen. Just goes to show that even after the events collectively referred to as “the Apocalypse” have ravaged the Earth and destroyed the capitalist institutions such as bureaucratic schools and offices that made certain weekdays widely hated, Mondays are still, and will always be, awful.

So here is the boy on a bicycle twenty years after the Apocalypse. He is pedaling madly through woods that had once been somewhat tamed. The woods were made of pine and maple and oak, the staples of a Northeast American forest, but they were also more than that. See, when nature is left to its own devices, even forests once populated with such things as marked hiking trails and outdoor recreation areas can turn into something quite different. This forest, once a nature preserve belonging to the state of New York, was now a wildwood. Things not quite friendly and not quite mundane and things not evil but also certainly not kind to trespassers lived in the dark spaces between these trees.

So here is the boy on a bicycle, riding through a wildwood full of dangerous things not kind to humans on a stormy Monday night twenty years after the Apocalypse. This is odd for three reasons.

First, as previously mentioned, it was a rainy night. And not a little drizzle, May-Day morning kind of rain that you barely needed an umbrella for, but a sky-splitting, earth-shaking, world-flooding howler of a storm. Each bolt of lightning ripped the sky apart; every roll of thunder shook the ground; the howling wind threatened to send even the oldest trees crashing to the ground. Surrounded by all of this, beneath the trees and in the mud, was the boy on his bicycle.

The bicycle was the second odd thing. Despite the absolute hell it’s rider was currently putting it through (he wasn’t biking on a path, you see, just careening through the underbrush as it suited him; scratching the paint, splattering it with mud, and getting half a forest worth of sticks stuck in the wheel spokes), it was a very nice bike. A ten-speed, all-terrain, for-serious-athletes-only sort of bicycle. In another life, it would have been the property of some over-achieving businesswoman, the sort who did triathlons on the weekends and polished it with special bicycle wax three times a week. In this lifetime it had been stolen from an abandoned sporting goods store and aggressively spray-painted black because its new owner had been in a mood that day. There was also a laptop precariously duct-taped to the handlebars. Surrounding the ancient laptop was a clear plastic container, which several hours earlier had been looted from an old Target store and taped over the handlebars with extreme prejudice to protect the computer from the coming rain.

The third odd thing was what the rider of this bike was doing. He wasn’t just soaked to the bone while pedaling full speed through the dark and rain and underbrush, with no light to guide him other than the faint glow of the computer screen. He was also singing at the top of his lungs.

“It’s the end of the world as we know it! It’s the end of the world as we know!-oh!-” He swerves to avoid a tree- “Oh, it! It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I FEEEEEEL FINEEEE!” He had a deranged smile on his face, the kind adrenaline junkies get when they’re doing something supremely idiotic while enjoying themselves immensely, and couldn't be damned to care about the consequences. He was quite possibly insane, more likely sleep-deprived.

Just then, the computer started beeping. The boy quickly brought the bike to a stop, crashing through a puddle and narrowly missing a large rock that would have brought this story to an end much quicker. Still singing nonsensical lyrics to himself- “Lenny Bruce, Lester Bangs, birthday party, cheesecake”- he dismounted, taking something small and electrical out of the bag he wore over his shoulder. He hit the device a few times, cursed twice, and hit it again before it finally turned on with a beep and a few flashing lights. The light illuminated his face, pale and tired and shivering. Splashes of mud on his face gave the appearance of more freckles than he actually had. He wiped his long, rain-drenched hair out of his eyes to peer at the computer screen before punching some coordinates into the handheld device. A map appeared on the smaller screen. Blue vector lines appear, joined by two small dots, one green, one red. As he moved, the red dot moved. “Excellent,” he whispered to himself before walking deeper into the woods, leaving his bike behind. It would be the last time he saw that bike.

Walking through the rain was much harder than biking through it. Every minute or so, he had to stop and pull his boots out of the shin-deep mud. Twice he slipped, spreading mud all over his front. He refused to think about the state of his hair, despite the fact that it smelled like some of the wet matter coating it might not be mud. He slipped a third time, and the device in his hand went flying off into the wet night, never to be seen again. He paused for a moment, staring pitifully at where his device had disappeared before proceeding to curse loudly and creatively in at least three languages; insulting not only the stupid forest and the gods-damned rain, but his own stupidity and the idiocy of his informant for failing to tell him about this job before it became a time-sensitive matter that resulted in him being covered in enough mud to pass as a very short golem……

He went on like that for awhile before continuing his walk. The past few days had been incredibly frustrating, and there was a lot of bottled up anger to be released. As absolutely no one listened, he cursed the Trader caravan who treated him worse than the dirt on their boots, the scavengers who’d stolen his good knife last week, and the state of his life in general, gods give him a sign that he shouldn’t end it all right now, just climb up a tree and get struck by lightning…

A particularly loud crack of thunder erupted just then, followed by a bright burst of lightning that was a bit too close for comfort. It seemed like the gods were calling him on his bluff. With a world-weary sigh, he shoved his frustrations back down and continued walking into the woods. First and foremost was the mission, he reminded himself. There would be time for pity parties later.

It seemed like the universe was mocking him at that moment; as he gathered his convictions, the storm worsened. He would have said it was impossible, but the rain came down harder, as if trying to tell him that just lying down in the mud forever was so much simpler than trying to be a hero, who was he anyway, to try and save the world…He began to sing again, attempting to combat the darkness of the weather and his mind. “Eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn, world serves its own needs, don’t miserve your own needs…” He walks to the tune of the highly appropriate song, keeping his head up and eyes peeled for his destination.Finding anything in this weather would take nothing short of divine intervention, possibly by multiple gods, but find something he does. There, on his right, almost outside his field of vision, a faint glow in the darkness of the night. He smiled, a wild thing, before running full tilt towards the glow.

As he got closer, it became clear that the glow was coming from the ground itself, a golden line stretching as far as the eye can see in either direction. The glow is slowly intensifying, but he’s arrived in time. He takes another device out of his bag, this one about the size of his head. It looked like if someone had melted down several computers, a tacky bachelor’s pad worth of chrome plating, and a rotary phone before mashing them all together and drenching the entire thing in white paint. That really wasn’t far off from the actual process used to create the gadget, which was of his own invention. He was rather proud of it, especially as it was one of a select few of his projects that had been completed without any magical assistance whatsoever.

With the golden glow lighting his way, he steps forward and gently places the SaviorBlob(that was what he had named the blobby thing) directly onto the line, aligning one of the sticky-outy metal bits towards magnetic north. Then he takes a carefully measured number of steps to the right, taking a second SaviorBlob out of his bag and placing it on the line. Again, he takes a carefully measured number of steps to the right, watching his feet while taking a third and final SaviorBlob out of his bag. He’s adjusting the magnetic alignment when he hears a loud grunt. He looks up. Then he starts running.

A roar erupts from the massive creature straddling the line. Something vaguely resembling the idea of an arm erupts from the darkness, grabbing the boy by the back of his jacket and bringing him face to face with the rotting corpse of something that had never been properly alive. Desperate, he throws the remaining SaviorBlob at the creature’s face with surprising force, but it bounces off harmlessly. The creature roars again, throwing the boy up in the air only to snatch him up again, this time around the waist. With another arm, it sweeps the SaviorBlobs off the line, sending them flying into the night.

Satisfied, it returns its attention to the boy trying to free himself, slowly pulling him closer as it opens it’s stinking maw wide. The boy watches, eyes wide, heart pounding. He waits. He waits. Then he strikes. A second before the darkness would swallow him whole, he pulls a knife from his boot and drives it deep into a mass of twisted flesh.

As the creature flails, he rips off one of his many necklaces and shoves it down the creatures throat, kicking away at the same time and falling to the ground. His jacket is torn to pieces, tangling around the arm covered in dark acid from the creature’s mouth.

The creature roars and lashes out, clawing at it’s wound with one arm and pinning the boy by his leg with another. The touch is dirty and so cold it burns, the antithesis of everything alive. The boy screams for the first time. Another twisted and corrupted limb is pressed to the glowing line, and the creature rears its head and sings, a single high piercing note a human could never hope to replicate.

The boy struggles, trying to pull away from the pain, but he’s stuck fast. As the creature continues to sing, the light of the line grows brighter, turning from golden to white hot. The air itself is resonating with the impossibly high note, the whole world shaking as the boy tries to twist free and cover his ears from the onslaught of pure noise. With a final cry of pain, he escapes the creature’s hold, trying to run, trying to get as far away as possible...BOOM. The world goes white. He flies through the air, hitting a tree with a CRACK. Darkness falls immediately.

------------------

I WILL TAKE ANY AND ALL CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM

I WANT TO MAKE THIS GOOD

I WILL ALSO BLAB ABOUT THE CHARACTERS SO MUCH, SPOILER THEY”RE ALL QUEER AND MOST ARE POC.

#Cheshire Moon #Cazi's Writing #my writing #original writing #Marcelo Doran #Artemesia Benitez #Miriam 'Chevy' Johnston #Jashik Agni #Kals Katsaros #okay writing my OC's names as tags for the first time gave me such a rush #like #they're real and they matter

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randomoranges · 4 years

Text

hello, do you like long fics? do you like soft? here is a long soft fic.

so this started off - really, back in february when i was visiting my friends [when that was still allowed - lol] and we were discussing our ocs as we sometimes happen to do. that and how with time they get more ok with more “feminine things” and such.

i made a doodle inspired by that conversation.

then lockdown happened. and with my tablet i decided to digitally colour that doodle. i thought it looked pretty neat. as i looked at it i started to wonder what the “fem versions” of ed and ét would be like and look like and came to the realisation that NO ONE had ever thought of that.

then an entire fucking au was born from that because that’s the way i function, apparently.

i made a few art pieces and started writing this behemoth on april 12th 2020.

i got like 70% done and then stopped. got blocked or just didn’t have the motivation for it.

seeing as i go back to work tomorrow [god dont make me go] and this fic wasn’t done yet, i told myself that this quarantine fic would END NOW.

so i spent the last 3 nights hacking at the remaining 30%.

i could have split it up in parts, i know, but seeing as i suffered through the whole thing in one part so do you :)

here we go for the genderbend au no one ever even asked for like literally.

evelyn = edward

éliane = étienne

also, how many song lyrics can i fit in one title lamao.

in total this one has more pages than keesha kee taen, but like 1000 less words.

Girl, You Really Got me Now [It’s a Love Story] [[The Ballad of Éliane and Evelyn]]

Éliane Maisonneuve remembered the exact and precise moment that Evelyn Murphy waltzed into her life. She remembered the exact moment it happened for the simple reason that it changed her life. For the better.

It happened one glorious day in September, about a week or so after school started, sometime after Labour Day. It was her senior year of high school, the world was sitting in the palm of her hand, and she had been busy recounting her rather exciting weekend to her friends, when their homeroom teacher had walked in, followed by a student. Éliane prided herself with knowing everyone and anyone in the school. Mostly, because she was a social butterfly, also because it helped when one was the vice-president of the student body (president had too many responsibilities, not enough fun). Therefore, she automatically knew that this was a new student.

It was about as far as her analysis went for her brain stuttered when she got a good look at the new girl, while her teacher introduced her. God, but she was absolutely gorgeous. She had pretty, dark, brown hair cut slightly above her shoulders, a cute little barrette in her hair, the prettiest hazel eyes this side of the world, for sure, and the softest looking skin Éliane had ever seen. Her darker complexion went rather nicely with the colours of the school uniform and there was just something about the way she played with the hem of her sweater that tugged at Éliane’s heart.

Before her homeroom teacher could even get to the part of asking for a benevolent soul to show her (her name was Evelyn Murphy – her brain had registered that much) around, Éliane had bolted out of her seat, only near tripping on herself to volunteer for the honour. She absolutely needed to become friends with Evelyn. It was a matter of life or death. She knew. Evelyn had offered her the actual cutest little shy smile Éliane had ever seen in her life and she had eagerly told her friend to change seats so that Evelyn could sit next to her.

Even then, without fully knowing, she was already infatuated.

Evelyn turned out to be a rather quiet girl. Éliane chalked it up to being new to the school and a little intimidated by it, but she vowed to herself that she would make sure everyone treated Evelyn right. She introduced her to all her friends, made sure she knew where all her classes were and gave Evelyn her phone number and e-mail address in case she had any questions. Éliane declared them friends by the end of lunch and the pretty little blush on Evelyn’s cheeks was a thing of beauty.

Éliane even went as far as walk Evelyn home, despite her telling her that it was alright and that she knew how to get back, but Éliane wanted to spend more time with her and insisted, figuring she could tell her new friend about the cool hangouts around school (there were three – the dep’, the hamburger shack down the street and the alcove by the river (which was a good place to go make-out, but that was a detail – the rocks there were really cool, it was just a question of no one ratting you out.))

Éliane, surprisingly, for once, managed not to spend the entire walk to Evelyn’s gabbing away about one thousand different trivialities and instead bombarded the new girl with ten thousand different questions. Luckily, Evelyn took it all in stride and patiently answered her questions. It was how Éliane found out that Evelyn’s father had been transferred and had started a new job here over the summer and how his position had been extended. The rest of her family had then moved over and by the time they were settled and her school papers were in order, school had already started, but here she was now.

And goodness, here she was now indeed, Éliane thought.

They became inseparable, fast, mostly due to Éliane doing her utmost best to include Evelyn in absolutely everything she did. Evelyn fit in nicely with Éliane’s group of friends, which was a good thing, otherwise she would have dumped their sorry asses and started a new, better group. But, the others took Evelyn in and Éliane called it a success.

Éliane was head strong, brash, and impulsive and liked to stick her fingers in as many pies as she could. She liked to keep busy with projects that interested her and she was always ready to try something new. Therefore, even though term had already started, she decided, quite on an impulse, one day, to switch out one of her courses for home-economics, just because Evelyn was in it and had said nice things about it. It was a good thing Éliane was a well liked student by the faculty members and that this change actually made her advanced art program fit better in her schedule , but the secretary still gently scolded her and told her that she would have a lot of catching up to do.

Luckily, Éliane had a plan.

Her plan consisted on being her disastrous self in a kitchen and hope that Evelyn would take pity on her and help her out.

Luckily, Éliane didn’t have to try very hard for her plan to work. During her first assignment, she managed to set the smoke detector off, twice. For the second assignment, she had to be rushed to the nurse’s office after she accidentally sliced her finger open. After the third assignment, she needed ointment for a rather nasty burn. Once the mid-term report cards came out and Evelyn found out Éliane was failing home-economics spectacularly, she took pity on her friend and teamed up with her for the following projects.

It was a win-win, in Éliane’s opinion, even if she barely scrapped by and the class brought down her overall average, (but she was getting better – it had to count for something, right?)

Éliane ended up spending a lot of time with Evelyn what with classes, hanging out together and after school extracurricular. Evelyn ended up joining the theatre club and Éliane nearly lost her mind when she found out her quiet, mostly shy friend could act it out on stage like the best of them. It was a whole new side of her that she had only ever glimpsed and Éliane loved it. The girl had spunk. She was feisty. And slowly, slowly, Evelyn emerged from her shell as she got used to her new school and new surroundings. With time, Éliane got to get to know her better and discovered a treasure trove of other interesting things about her – like her sense of humour, which was dry and cutting and an absolute gift.

Éliane wondered where Evelyn had been all her life.

Once Christmas break rolled around, Evelyn’s mood took a dip, since for the first time ever, she would be away from her friends and family. Éliane took it upon herself to make sure her friend wouldn’t feel left out during the holidays and so she organised outings and parties with her and her friends to make sure Evelyn had a good time. The Murphy’s were even invited over for Christmas Eve and Éliane thought it was her greatest accomplishment yet. Throughout the rest of the holiday break, there were many outings to get hot chocolate, tobogganing, but by far, the best surprise came when Éliane suggested they go ice-skating, since the rinks were finally open and she found out that Evelyn could skate really well. Not only that, but the girl had a competitive streak to her as well and it was so very easy to get her riled up if any type of friendly competition was presented to her. Evelyn had depth and personality and there were so many different sides to her that Éliane loved so much. It seemed that the more she got to know her friend, the more she found out about her and it was great.

Winter break went by quickly, what with the myriad of activities Éliane orchestrated and it ended with by far, the greatest event to the start off the new year – Evelyn’s birthday.

Towards the start of the break, Evelyn had quietly invited the inner circle of the friend group for a sleepover on the last Saturday of break, since her birthday fell on a Wednesday. They would be four in total and Éliane spent the better part of her days leading up to her friend’s birthday trying to come up with the Best Gift Ever, when she wasn’t busy spending time with her friends or stuffing her face with her grandmother’s baked goods. She was looking forward to the party and Evelyn kept reminding her that it would be a simple, quiet affair. They would get takeout, there would be cake, they would watch movies, they would eat too much candy and chips and chocolate – and eventually, they would all crash at some ungodly hour of the morning.

Éliane still thought it sounded like the greatest thing ever.

The party in itself turned out to be lovely and loud and boisterous. Mr. And Mrs Murphy put on brave faces and stuck around making sure everything was okay and to wish their daughter a happy birthday, while Evelyn’s younger sister had found herself a better place to be. They played games, spent the better part of the evening gossiping about school – their teachers, their classmates, another part worrying about which Cégep to apply to and what program, until Éliane declared that all “no-fun” school talk was banned. So, they watched a stream of movies, one of the other girls gave Evelyn a manicure and they ate too much candy and chips and chocolate.

Somewhere around midnight, before it got to be too late, they took a break to change into their pyjamas. They were waiting for Evelyn to return and Éliane was waiting on the couch, wearing her own set of teddy bear patterned pyjama pants and long sleeved sweatshirt she had pilfered from one of her brothers (it was large, it was comfortable and it was warm), when Evelyn came to join them.

Éliane cared very little about what others wore to bed. Normally, she wore boxer shorts and nothing else – unless it was cold outside, which it currently was. The thing was, she would have never associated Evelyn with the pyjama set that she was wearing. Evelyn rejoined their little group as if nothing was wrong with the world and went and plopped herself right next to Éliane wearing by far the most ridiculous (gorgeous), frilly (utterly inappropriate), matching set of what seemed to be lilac silk pyjamas. There was lace. There were motifs. It had little tiny straps that covered her shoulders (Éliane’s brain reminded her that this was the most skin she had seen on her friend and that she could see her clavicle and shoulder blades and the dip of her neck and – and then there were the shorts! The equally silk shorts that hugged her thighs just so and – maybe, maybe it was always really hot at the Murphy’s, which was why Evelyn slept in such a getup, because suddenly, Éliane found herself overheating. And then she had to give her friend one more (discreet – hopefully) one over and of course she had to notice the way the fabric hugged her chest, the shape she could guess underneath and – this really wasn’t fair.

The thing was – the real issue here was – that Éliane M. Maisonneuve had accidentally gone and developed the stupidest of crushes on Evelyn A. Murphy and she was a complete goner.

And now her friend was sitting beside her in her silk pyjamas looking like a goddamned gift and Éliane wanted to hold her close, furrow her face in the crook of her neck and ghost her hands over the fabric of her pajamas – and more. She was doomed. This was neither the place nor the time and she did her utmost best to keep her thoughts pure and innocent, but apparently, the universe hated her, because Evelyn slid extremely close to her, until she was half pressed on Éliane’s side and took a hold of her hand.

“I get really afraid during scary movies,” She whispered in her ear and Éliane tried to suppress the shivers that ran down her spine and the sudden urge she had to turn around and kiss Evelyn’s stupid (beautiful, glorious) face senseless. Instead, she clutched at her friend’s hand in return, didn’t let go for the duration of the movie – and tried her best not to feel anything every time Evelyn gasped and clutched at her a little harder when she got scared. (And she tried really hard not to think of the way Evelyn’s body felt pressed up against her side.)

Éliane knew what she liked – couldn’t care less about the gender of people. She had dated a little, had stolen kisses from girls behind cafés and had gone out on dates with boys. So long as she was interested, it didn’t matter and, apparently, her mind had decided that it was very interested in Evelyn. (And really, could she be blamed? Evelyn was mighty fine, thank you very much.)

She was so screwed.

Éliane swore to herself that she would keep her stupid crush to herself and bury her feelings so far deep inside of her that she would be long dead before they could ever resurface properly.

Therefore, by Tuesday, over lunch, Éliane took her other best friend, Emma, aside, to spill absolutely everything to her.

Now, Éliane and Emma had met on the very first day of kindergarten and had been placed in the same class. They had been sat next to each other and Éliane had declared her her best friend by the time lunch had rolled in. Emma had no idea how it was that they had remained friends for so long, but Éliane was her best friend and so, despite being quite exhausted by her friend’s daily ongoing complaint about whatever it was that was personally vexing her, she half listened to her friend.

Normally, Emma would have been sympathetic and offered Éliane some advice, but Éliane was the absolute worst when it came to taking advice and instead preferred moping around and taking everything way too dramatically as if the world was against her.

So she did just that and Emma couldn’t wait for Éliane to move on to a new hyper-fixation.

Unfortunately, that never happened.

“Why don’t you – and I’m just ball-parking it here – actually tell Ev’ how you feel and y’know, maybe she’ll feel the same way?” Emma reiterated for what felt like the millionth time. By February, Emma had heard her friend lament her unrequited crush so often that she could predict what Éliane would tell her almost verbatim.

“But Ems, what if she doesn’t? What if she thinks I’m gross and then never wants to speak to me again? Emma, I can’t risk that!” She bemoaned, burying her face in her pillow. It was a quiet Friday night and Emma had done the mistake of throwing an impromptu sleepover between her and Éliane. She had hoped it would be a fun sleepover; instead, she was being privy to another round of Éliane’s love tribulations.

“If she thinks you’re gross she’s dead to all of us.” Emma stated in her no-nonsense tone. The rest of their friend group knew of Éliane’s preferences and could care less about who she dated. If Evelyn had a problem with it, she would be more than happy to kick her out of the circle, “She’s not worth your time if she can’t accept you the way you are.” This was why Éliane liked Emma. She was straight to the point and wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, even over controversial matters.

“I knoooooow, but I like her sooooo much. Emmmmaaaaaaaaaaa, she’s sooooo pretty, it’s not faaaaaair,” She whined and put on her best kicked puppy expression. Emma rolled her eyes and threw a pillow at her. She was immune to that look by now. Mostly.

“I mean, have we even ever heard Evelyn express an interest in anyone at school?”

“Noooo, but what if – what if she has a boyfriend back home and she promised to be true to him? Or like what if she’s super conservative or something? Aren’t they conservative back in Alberta?”

“Don’t you think she would have mentioned having a boyfriend – or someone special – back home after all this time? And even if there are people who are conservative back in Alberta, who’s to say that she is? God knows she follows you around on half your crazy schemed ideas. Maybe she likes you and she’s shy. Maybe she’s just a friend. Maybe you should just fucking talk to her and leave me out of your love life, please, Éliane, I’m not even your therapist.”

Éliane pouted and threw the pillow back at her.

“Big baby. Just write her a Valentine’s and play it off as a joke if she rejects you.”

“That is the worst idea ever. My heart would be shattered and I’d never be able to face her ever again.” Emma sighed as Éliane went off another tangent. Sometimes, she wondered why she bothered.

Éliane did not take up Emma on her advice and so, come Valentine’s Day, she did absolutely nothing and played it cool, by her standards. This meant that she kept a close eye on anyone who approached Evelyn with Valentine’s and she was only too pleased (relieved) when no one had made any outlandish love declarations to her. (Not that Evelyn didn’t deserve outlandish love declarations, but Éliane wanted to be the one to do them, not some other person.)

It also meant that her heart sank when Evelyn didn’t get her any particular Valentine and that she only gave her a small chocolate, like she did with all of their other friends. It wasn’t that she expected anything, but if Evelyn had made a move on her, it would have helped ease her mind and given her some sense of direction. Still, Éliane had to consol herself; at least Evelyn was her friend. It could be so much worse.

Her crush only kept growing as the days went by and even when she tried looking elsewhere, hoping that a distraction from Evelyn would help, it seemed her heart and mind were set on Evelyn no matter what. It was utterly annoying and Emma was ready to murder her if she kept this on.

Therefore, Éliane came up with another of her Brilliant Plans, which Emma agreed was absolutely stupid. With prom coming up at the end of the year, Éliane decided to put her big move there and ask Evelyn to go as her date. Emma politely reminded her that prom was in literal months and that a million different things could happen between now and then. Plus, there was also the fact that Éliane would be even more insufferable until then.

Éliane was pretty confident that it would give her enough time to gather more intel on whether or not Evelyn liked her That Way and hence, would only help her out in the long run. If anything, if Evelyn was dateless by then, they could just go as friends and Éliane could save face.

In the meantime, however, there was One particular incident that left Éliane even more confused than ever before.

It was a known fact that Éliane Maisonneuve liked to sprawl out when she sat down. Be it chair, sofa, couch or stool, Éliane took up as much space as possible. The other known fact was that Éliane Maisonneuve was a very tactile person. She had never heard of personal space when it came to her friends and if she was sitting with her friends, it wasn’t an uncommon sight to see her using her friends’ laps as extensions of the surfaces she was sitting on. She was known to sit on their laps, drape herself over them, lay her head on their shoulders or laps, and so on. No one was safe from her sprawling, not even Evelyn.

During the winter months, Éliane opted for the school pants as opposed to the skirt, since it was too bloody cold outside and even with stockings, she froze. However, with spring back on the menu, she was quick to ditch the pants and go back to the skirt.

It happened to be a skirt-wearing day, when, during lunch, Éliane had elected Evelyn’s lap to sit on, since she was the first to have finished eating lunch. Now, normally, when Éliane sat on Evelyn’s lap, Evelyn would put one arm over Éliane’s own lap, to keep her from falling off, and her other arm would either wrap itself around her waist, or rest against the back of the sofa they claimed for themselves for lunch, when they ate inside, in one of the school’s hangout spots.

However, this time – this time something monumental happened.

Éliane sat on Evelyn’s lap like always, and at first Evelyn held on to her as she normally did, but then, a few minutes later, Evelyn’s hand that was around her waist shifted ever so. At first, Éliane thought little of it, but then Evelyn placed her hand to rest on the side of her leg, underneath her skirt, right on her skin. Éliane stilled and tried to think little of it. Evelyn had just found a better way to place her hands, there was nothing to it – that had to be it. This wasn’t planned. This had been accidental, clearly. But then – then her friend went ahead and started – rubbing her skin? With her thumb? In a small, circular way? Or something. Because, Éliane felt Evelyn’s thumb rub her skin in a circular motion, but there was no way for her to see and she wasn’t about to ask (because it felt really good and she didn’t want Evelyn to stop and if she was hallucinating then she would look like a fool.) Plus, Éliane did try to get a read off Evelyn’s face, but when she looked, Evelyn wasn’t even looking her way, instead focused on whatever else it was their friends were saying, a small, gentle smile on her face.

What. The ever loving fuck. Did this actually mean?

Éliane tried to remain still, tried to brush it off as nothing and tried to play it cool, but for the rest of the day, she was a right hot mess and she spent the better part of the rest of the week (and month) replaying the feel of Evelyn’s hand on her bare thigh and it did not help any of her little fantasies one bit. (Because good Lord, someone help her, how she had wanted Evelyn’s hand to creep up her thigh, touch her elsewhere, make her feel good – how she had wanted to wrap her legs around her friend, grind against her, get her hands underneath Evelyn’s silly school blouse, feel her up – hear her moan –)

This was really getting out of hand.

Éliane kept pinning from afar, much to Emma’s annoyance, especially since she was the only one in their friend circle to know about her crush and no other major incidents of the sort came to throw Éliane for a loop. She still convinced herself that she would do something about it for prom, but Emma wasn’t convinced, and quite frankly, neither was Éliane.

And then it was Éliane’s birthday.

Éliane had a rather busy birthday schedule, what with celebrating with her family and twin sister, wanting to do something fun with her friends and also doing something lowkey on the actual day of. As was the standard amongst their friend group, one of them made a birthday cake to be had at lunch, there were presents and it was a lovely day overall.

On top of that, she had all her favourite classes today and it was honestly looking up to be the best birthday ever. She was looking forward to the weekend and her mind was focused on the end of the day, when she got a note from Evelyn during class.

“Meet me in the park by the swing set after class,” The note said and Éliane tried to get her friend’s attention, wondering what this could mean and what game her friend was playing at, but Evelyn never looked her way and so Éliane was left guessing. She even tried to ask her after class, but Evelyn went ahead of her, while the teacher asked Éliane to stay behind for a bit, since she wanted to go over some of the texts for the upcoming school play.

Therefore, once she could leave, she ran to her locker to drop off her books, changed out of her school shoes, grabbed her sweater and backpack, and then ran off to the park next to the school. She hoped Evelyn hadn’t been waiting long and that she wouldn’t think she had stood her up, even though she had seen Éliane with their teacher. Still.

Éliane nearly tripped down the stairs to the park and was ever so relieved to see that Evelyn was still there waiting for her.

“What’s up?” She asked, slightly out of breath.

“I wanted to give you your birthday gift.” She said, smiling at her and Éliane’s stomach did a funny thing at the sight. It always did a funny thing at the sight. It was such a pretty smile.

“But, you gave me your gift earlier with the others,” She said, giving her friend a quizzical look. Not that she minded more gifts, but she didn’t expect her friend to get her multiple gifts.

“I know – but this one is special. Close your eyes?”

Éliane did as she was told even though her curiosity was eating her alive.

“No peeking!” Evelyn cautioned and it was very tempting to, but Éliane remained still, with her eyes closed, heart beating wildly as she waited.

Evelyn took her hands and Éliane figured she would place something in them, but instead her friend held on. Éliane was about to ask what this was all about, but the following moment, she felt the softest of presses against her lips. She gasped and her eyes opened on their own just in time to see Evelyn lean away from her, a lovely blush spreading across her cheeks.

“Did you just – was that just –”There was no way Evelyn had kissed her. She must have dreamt the entire thing up and blacked out, or something. Maybe she had really slipped down the stairs, fallen and hit her head. It may have been her birthday and all, but these types of things only happened in trashy romance novels she liked to splurge on.

“Look ,” Evelyn started, blush deepening across her face and Éliane stopped talking all together, while her brain tried to reboot itself, “I like you. A lot. And I have, for a while now... and well, I wanted to take a chance. Since it’s your birthday and all. And, yeah – I – don’t hate me?” She stammered and Éliane could only stare at her.

Evelyn Murphy liked her.

The absolutely wonderful person that was Evelyn Murphy liked her and had kissed her on her birthday. Éliane might actually faint and go into shock.

Instead, she launched herself at Evelyn and kissed her hard. Evelyn stumbled back in surprise, trying not to fall over, and wrapped her arms around Éliane out of reflex.

“I like you too, you silly goose, and I could never hate you,” Éliane blurted out when she pulled away, before cupping Evelyn’s face with her hands and kissing her again, this time much slower and softer. She let out a breathy little gasp when Evelyn held her, their bodies pressed close. It was everything she’d been hoping for months and everything she’d never, in her wildest dreams, think she’d get. She chased after as many kisses as Evelyn allowed her and silently swooned at the softness of her lips against her own. She knew, already, that she could never tire of this.

“Go to prom with me?” She added, catching her breath, riding a high she never wanted to come down from. Evelyn’s eyes widened and then she smiled and it caught Éliane’s breath. It was such a lovely sight, so beautiful and pure, and she wanted to be the cause of those smiles for a very, very long time.

“I’d love to,” Evelyn told her, before kissing her again. And again. And again and again.

It was nice, finally being able to hold Evelyn’s hand whenever she felt like it. Éliane made it her personal mission to walk to every class she had with Evelyn by holding her hand and sometimes, if Evelyn let her, she carried her books as well. She was stupid in love with her and she couldn’t believe how lucky she was that Evelyn liked her – that they could hold hands and kiss and spend a stupid amount of time texting each other strings of heart emojis late into the night. Éliane never wanted the feeling to end.

It turned out that Evelyn wasn’t out to her parents and she had no idea how they would take to her being attracted to girls, so they agreed to keep things under wrap around them when Éliane went over. Éliane had already done her own coming out to her parents, almost two years ago, but she supposed she had an easier ride, considering her eldest brother was gay and very much cohabiting with his boyfriend for the past several years now. She was thankful that her parents were okay with it and could only hope that Evelyn’s parents would be as well, whenever it was she decided to tell them.

For now, it just meant that Éliane had to keep her hands to herself when she was over at the Murphys’, but she could make-out with Evelyn at her place all she wanted, (or until her sister told her to stop being so gross.)

May also meant receiving Cégep admission letters and a whole flock of stress, anxiety, and high emotions. Evelyn found the idea a little dumb, but since her family was still in Montréal and she would have to do an extra year of high school if she went back home, she had found herself obliged to apply as well. She ended up applying to most of the Cégeps her friends wanted to go to, so that she could at least be with them and she surprised herself when their excitement turned contagious when her own acceptance letters started trickling in.

The only problem was that she had no idea where it was she wanted to go.

She was pretty convinced she wanted to be an engineer – maybe a civil engineer later on, but so long as she did something science and math related in Cégep, she would be fine. Where she did it didn’t matter. She kept her options open and waited to see where the others would go. Therefore, when Éliane got accepted into the program of her choice in visual arts at the Cégep she really wanted to, Evelyn quietly accepted her own offer at the same school. (And when Éliane found out, nearly two weeks later, she had been extremely happy and there may or may not have been many tears.)

She knew that realistically her chances of having any classes with Éliane were slim, that their schedules might not even match up, but maybe they could share a locker and maybe they could take one of the mandatory gym ,or French, or English, or humanities classes together.

They could make it work. (She really hoped they could.)

Bu those were problems and thoughts for later and so Evelyn buried them deep in her mind and instead focused on the upcoming ministry exams, the end of the school year, finding a dress for prom, memorising her lines for the end of year school play, finding time for her girlfriend and her friends, and everything else that came with being a senior in high school.

Emma decided to invite everyone over to her place, before they went to prom, to take photos and have cocktails, since she had the biggest yard between them. They agreed to meet up there and then make their way to the hall where the reception would take place.

Despite Éliane asking, Evelyn had refused to show her any photos of her dress. Éliane had begged for hints, a description, anything, but Evelyn had remained tight-lipped, preferring to surprise her girlfriend at prom. Éliane had done her best pouting and pleading, but Evelyn was apparently immune to it all. Therefore, Éliane was an impatient mess when she got to Emma’s, eagerly anticipating the moment Evelyn would arrive.

As per their plan, Evelyn had told her parents that she was going to prom with her friends, since “no boys had asked her” and her parents thought it was cute how the girls were sticking together. It was a perfect decoy and it meant that she could have all the photos she wanted with Éliane and her parents would never think twice about it.

Éliane was about ready to text Evelyn, to ask her where she was and whether or not she had forgotten that they were supposed to meet up at Emma’s before heading to the reception hall, but then the doorbell rang and Éliane swore the entire planet froze in time when Evelyn walked in.

Evelyn was wearing a midnight blue, long dress with cap sleeves that fell off her shoulders. It had a sweetheart bodice and a ruched waistline that did wonders for her figure and her complexion. The material of the dress was elegant and airy and it gave Evelyn a regal appearance.

Her girlfriend was absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous.

Her heart was going to explode from how full of love it was for Evelyn.

Éliane did her very best to contain herself and not launch herself at Evelyn, but she did walk up to her and envelop her in the tightest of hugs she could manage, trying to convey everything it was she felt inside.

“You are so breathtakingly beautiful,” She whispered in her ear as she pulled away. She grinned when Evelyn turned a lovely shade of pink and Éliane was far too pleased with herself.

“And you’re absolutely stunning,” Evelyn murmured back, leaving a lingering touch to Éliane’s wrist, which left her skin tingling.

Éliane had opted for something a little more party like. It was a champagne coloured, short dress with an asymmetrical bodice. It had one sleeve and bold folds that looked absolutely stunning on her. It was, after all, their prom, and she intended to party, dance and have the absolute greatest of times.

Prom, delivered.

The prom committee really outdid themselves, if Éliane did say so herself and it turned out to be a great evening. She got to sit with her best friends, got to dance with her girlfriend, took a stupid amount of photos with absolutely everyone she had ever spoken to during her five years in high school and only cried once – maybe twice, when she realised for good that this was her last few moments with these people – that one chapter of her life was closing and that a new adventure was right around the corner.

But, before she got too lost in her own thoughts, there was still an after-prom, a million pool parties to attend and the greatest summer of her life to live.

Most of the graduating class had decided to go camping for their after-prom, on some semi-remote campground a few hours away. The grounds promised privacy, no curfew, and a lax attitude towards underage drinking. Éliane had considered going, but then Emma had decided to do something a little simpler and had invited their group over to her place. Her parents would be out, they could pile up and sleep in the camper van in the backyard, eat all the junk food they could handle, talk late into the night, watch the stars and go swimming in the morning. The best part was that Mr. And Mrs. Dubois would even leave them alone, as they had decided to visit Mrs. Dubois’ sister back in Ottawa, which meant they had the whole place to themselves.

They arrived at Emma’s place well past one in the morning and the girls were a flurry of activity as they changed into pyjamas and their graduating sweatshirts. High-heeled shoes, dresses and make-up were removed in favour of comfort as they crowded around each other to settle and keep the night going. Chips, cookies, candies, and soda were placed nearby as they munched on the snacks and laughed their worries away.

It was nice, Éliane thought, and she secretly hoped that twenty years from now she would still be doing this with this same group of friends. Éliane tucked herself between Emma and Evelyn and found herself perfectly at ease. If time needed to freeze and stop and chose this particular moment to do so, she would be content.

It didn’t, naturally, but Éliane found she didn’t really mind and was happy to snuggle up next to Evelyn when the sun started to rise and they could no longer keep their eyes open.

“Love you,” She murmured into the folds of Evelyn’s arms and only registered what she’d said a moment or so later, when she felt Evelyn still beside her.

She feared she’d let her mouth run wild once more and had an apology ready at her lips, but then she felt Evelyn hold her close and press a gentle kiss to the top of her head, “D’you really mean it?” She whispered for her ears only and Éliane nodded.

“Yeah, I really do.”

Evelyn smiled and it was a real thing of beauty that warmed her insides and made her heart soar. She levelled with her and sought her lips, before kissing her fully, “Love you, Evelyn,” She murmured, unable to stop herself from grinning.

“I love you too, Éliane.” Evelyn whispered back, as if it was their secret alone.

Seeing as this was their last summer all together, Éliane made her mission to make sure they would see each other as often as possible and create the best summer memories. Therefore, there were many pool parties (and nothing had ever prepared her for the sight of her girlfriend – her Evelyn in the actual prettiest bikini ever made on God’s green earth.), a handful of parties and even though most of them had part time summer jobs, they made it work and by the time summer came to an end, Éliane was ready for the next chapter of her life.

Cégep turned out to be an interesting and roller coaster of a venture. For as much as Éliane pretty much enjoyed it – liked the freedom it brought her, the expanded horizons of possibilities and being able to have classes that she genuinely enjoyed, Evelyn found it pointless and useless. It was a means to an end – something she had no choice in doing and the only thing that made it tolerable was the fact that Éliane was in many of her classes, they rode in or out together when their schedules matched and some of their friends from high school were also at the same school.

Other than that, she absolutely abhorred the time she spent there and kept reminding herself that in two years time, it would be over. It seemed that just as she’d settled in to the rhythm of her new high school, she had been yanked out and forced to adapt to what she considered a waste of education. Éliane made the mistake of pointing out once that maybe it had to do with her disengagement with her own program, but Evelyn shut down that theory rather quickly.

Still, despite her foul mood and deep hatred for Cégep, Éliane did her best to cheer up her girlfriend, left little notes of encouragement in their shared locker almost every second day and thankfully, with Éliane and some of her friends by her side, she was able to coast through her first semester without burning the building down to ash.

However, for as much as Evelyn had nothing positive to say about Cégep, she had to agree that the winter break between the first and second semester was delightful. There was a little over a month and a half of time off and even though she had a few exams during the exam period, she still had a good month of vacation. When she found out, sometime after midterms, a great plan hatched in her mind.

The truth of the matter was that Evelyn missed Edmonton something fierce. She hadn’t been back since her family had relocated to Montreal and even though she liked her new life – it didn’t always feel like home. She missed her grandparents, missed her friends, and missed her favourite hangout spots.

Therefore, Evelyn did her research, contacted the appropriate people, and once she had everything in order, she brought up the idea to her parents of flying to Edmonton after the holidays for three weeks. She would be staying with her grandparents, who were more than thrilled at the idea of having her over, she had enough money for her plane ticket from her summer job and she would be able to do all the things she missed and loved. Her parents weren’t exactly thrilled with the plan, but eventually they agreed.

It was then that Evelyn launched part two of her plan, which was to ask Éliane to come over with her. (She had asked her grandparents as well, had explained that Éliane wasn’t just her friend – that they were a couple and thank goodness, they had been very accepting of that and thrilled at the idea of potentially meeting their granddaughter’s girlfriend.)

Of course, Evelyn was very much aware of the fact that her girlfriend detested winter, would probably have preferred to go somewhere warm, if she could and Evelyn didn’t even know if Éliane would want to go to Edmonton with her, or if she had the means to do it, but when she told her of her plan, Éliane had been one hundred percent onboard.

They bought their tickets together, the moment Éliane had the okay from her parents and then, at least, Evelyn could keep a countdown to not only the end of her first semester of hell-school, but also to the day she would be going back home to Edmonton – even if it was for a short while.

The moment they arrived in Edmonton, Evelyn was ready to show her girlfriend all the sights. She had made an elaborate schedule, had contacted all her friends and she only hoped that Éliane would like it.

Of course, Éliane loved it all, even if she did complain about the cold at every chance she got, but Evelyn was always there to lend her a sweater, tie a scarf around her neck or let Éliane snuggle up to her at night.

Éliane enjoyed the city and loved meeting Evelyn’s friends. It was nice to see her girlfriend’s old stomping grounds and Evelyn’s grandparents took to her right away, which they were both thankful for. It was nice being here and it amused Éliane to no end that their first trip as a “couple” was to Edmonton, something Evelyn thought wasn’t quite as exotic or romantic as it should be. Éliane told her they could make up for it at a later time – for their next vacation and the thought of that – of something that would happen in the future sent butterflies to Evelyn’s stomach.

Overall, despite her lack of interest in Cégep, two years ended up going by quickly, somehow. Éliane liked to refer to those two years as Evelyn’s rebel phase, for it was during that time that Evelyn decided to learn how to ride a motorcycle (something Éliane absolutely loved very, very much – there was just something so incredibly hot about her girlfriend dressed in nice, tight leather pants with nice leather boots and an even nicer leather jacket mounting a motorcycle. Éliane called it sex on wheels. Evelyn always turned the loveliest shade of pink at the comment.)

It was also during their stint in Cégep that Evelyn decided, one afternoon, while bored between classes, to get the upper part of her ear pierced. One of her classes had been cancelled, and she couldn’t go home, since she had another class after that. Since Éliane and her other friends were all unavailable, Evelyn had gone out for a walk, had passed by a tattoo and body piercing parlour and had decided to get it done, on a whim and out of boredom.

Éliane had a lot to say about the piercing. Notably, that it was very sexy and added an extra layer of badass to Evelyn. Evelyn thought her girlfriend was being ridiculous – Éliane had shut her up with a kiss.

And perhaps, the other thing that happened over the summer between their first and thankfully last year of Cégep was that their relationship reached a highly more physical level.

They had – fooled around some ever since that memorable time towards the end of high school, but, nothing beyond wandering hands and heavy make-out sessions. Evelyn hadn’t been fully ready and Éliane had given her all the time she needed. There’d been some touching, a very few topless make-out sessions which had left Evelyn yearning for more, but something had always held her back. Maybe the fact that her parents and sister had been home, or that Éliane’s own family could walk in at any time.

But there came a weekend over summer after their first year of Cégep, when Éliane had the whole house to herself. Her brothers were officially moved out, her sister had gone camping with her friends, and her parents had gone over to her mother’s friend’s cottage for the weekend. Éliane had invited Evelyn over to use the pool and there hadn’t really been any thought that this would happen over the weekend.

Éliane had been sunbathing on one of the lawn chairs, when Evelyn had gotten out of the pool and walked towards her girlfriend, with the intention of flicking water in her face. Éliane had (over) reacted just the way Evelyn had hoped – shrieking and protesting that the water was so very cold, which had prompted Evelyn to drape herself over her girlfriend to flick even more water all over her.

Éliane had tried to push her off and get away from her, but she had been trapped. Finally, Éliane gave up and Evelyn settled against her, content, with the sun warming her up and her girlfriend running a hand up and down her back. They’d stayed that way for a while, peaceful and quiet, until Evelyn had nuzzled her way to her girlfriend’s neck and had started leaving feather light kisses on Éliane’s neck.

The feather light kisses turned languid and hot when Éliane let out breathy little moans and wrapped her legs around Evelyn’s body. Evelyn left Éliane’s neck in favour of her lips when her girlfriend started grinding against her and her hands left her back to slide underneath the straps of her bikini.

Evelyn had never gone all the way with anyone – had never lain naked beside someone else, even though she had had her fair share of fantasies and had done a bit of self-exploration over the past few months. They’d talked it over, a few times, about their experiences and lack thereof and Evelyn had known, all along, that she could trust Éliane – that her girlfriend would respect her, no matter what it was that they did or didn’t do.

And so, when they parted for air and Evelyn took in the sight of Éliane’s kiss swollen lips and mussed up hair, she felt a deep hunger for her that swooped at her belly and made her want to touch and lick and taste and kiss and feel.

“Should we go to my room?” Éliane asked, her hand kneading the skin of Evelyn’s thigh, her fingers hitching ever higher, playing with the strings of the straps of her bikini. Evelyn nodded at that, disentangled herself from her, and then helped her up.

They’d made their way to Éliane’s room and once Éliane had closed the door behind them – in case – she had pushed Evelyn to her bed and they’d resumed from where they’d left off before. Evelyn let her girlfriend guide them both and let go of her millions of thoughts running through her head. She followed her gut, paid close attention to Éliane’s reactions, and let her hands touch and feel, let her mouth kiss and taste.

Evelyn marvelled at the goose bumps over Éliane’s breasts, over the texture of her nipple on her tongue and over every little sound and noise Éliane made, which Evelyn meticulously catalogued and memorised to later replay in her mind like a favourite song.

This was an experience she had never felt before and one that she would love repeating over the many years to come - hopefully.

And later, afterwards, as Evelyn lay with Éliane running her fingers through her hair, Evelyn couldn’t help but be thankful that somehow or other, despite not being keen over the move away from her beloved Edmonton, she had managed to find Éliane along the way. She hoped, as she shared a tender kiss with her girlfriend, that theirs would be a relationship that would last, and that if it didn’t, they could always remain friends.

The only thing that motivated Evelyn throughout their second – and luckily – last year of Cégep was the fact that she would be making university applications by the start of March. The drawback to that was picking which universities to apply. Éliane, once more, had her whole plan set out and her preferred university in mind. She was applying to one school and one school only, and if they didn’t accept her, then – well, her plan didn’t have a section for that, because she would get accepted. Evelyn envied her for that – was slightly jealous of the certainty and faith she had in her plan, even if she feared it would backfire on her. Not that Éliane didn’t have the grades or the talent for it, but there would be others who would be applying as well. Still, Éliane was convinced and Evelyn could only marvel at her.

On the one hand, she could apply to the same place as Éliane again and go where she went, but Evelyn also wanted to go somewhere that would actually set her up on her desired career path. If she wanted to become an engineer, it would obviously help if she went to a university that was known for their engineering programs. The other problem was that after nearly three years, Evelyn was incredibly homesick.

She liked Montreal just fine – was getting the hang of the city and its peculiarities, but – it wasn’t home. She missed her friends and family that were still in Edmonton, missed biking through the River Valley, and missed weather that actually made sense (to her). Therefore, on a whim, she decided to apply to the University of Alberta and figured that – if she got in – she could make her decision then and have that conversation with Éliane at that point. There was no need to cause alarm just yet.

Evelyn kept telling herself that if she didn’t get accepted at the University of Alberta, then it would be a clear sign that she wasn’t meant to go back – not now anyways, and that would be that. It would make her life easier, Éliane would never need to know, and life would move on. However, every time she started thinking that way, part of her really hoped she would be accepted there.

In the end, obviously, because life never played out the way she wanted it to, she was accepted at two of the three schools she had applied to – one in Montreal and the other one in Edmonton.

Before she broke the news to Éliane, she sat herself down and made a rather long and elaborate list of all the pros and cons she could think of about attending both schools. The problem was that her number one con about going back to Edmonton was that Éliane would be in Montreal and her biggest con about staying in Montreal was that she really missed home and wouldn’t get to see it for god only knew how much longer.

When she finally brought the list to Éliane – when she finally gathered up her courage for this conversation, her girlfriend was a little put off about having been left in the dark, if only because she didn’t like the idea of Evelyn going through this burden alone, but she was ready to find solutions.

“I could get transferred to UofA; I’m sure they have an art program,” She said as she started tapping away at her phone, looking up the offered programs as though this was the easiest and most logical of solutions.

“El, don’t – I mean, it’s not that I don’t want you to come with, but – you had a whole plan and you were super psyched about getting into UQAM. Plus, you even said, they only take a few people per year, so that means your portfolio was really good.”

“Exactly. So if UQAM took me then it shouldn’t be a problem for UofA. I can apply to get transferred for winter term and then we can be together again.” She smiled brightly at that, closed off her phone as if the case was solved and shelved, but it didn’t sit well with Evelyn.

Evelyn loved that Éliane was ready to drop everything to follow her, but at the same time, she knew her girlfriend was impulsive – that she came up with plans in a blink of an eye and didn’t always think the consequences through. She knew, deep down, that eventually, for as much as Éliane would be charmed by the city and enjoy it, she would feel like a fish out of the water. She wouldn’t have her friends, she wouldn’t have her sister and she wouldn’t have her bearings with the city.

She knew that, for as much as Éliane liked to play the tough act, for as much as she was the life of a party, that deep down, she was very sensitive; that even if she made new friends (which she would) and even if she ended up loving her program, the pillars of her own life would be missing and it would slowly, but surely, eat at her. The last thing Evelyn wanted to do was make Éliane miserable and she didn’t Éliane to resent her for it, in the long run, either.

She brought up these points to Éliane, but just as she feared, Éliane rebuked every one of her arguments, because on top of everything else, her girlfriend was absolutely stubborn.

“But, if you’re all the way in Edmonton, that means a different time zone, I don’t get to see you as often and – you might never come back,” Éliane finally admitted, hours later, when it felt as though they were going around in circles with this discussion. She sounded small and – insecure and it was then that Evelyn realised that the real root of the problem wasn’t that Evelyn wanted to study outside of the city, it was that Éliane knew how much she missed Edmonton and Éliane feared she would never return once she went back.

The real problem was that Evelyn, for as much as she wanted to reassure her that she would – that she’d go there for the length of the degree and then come back – wasn’t sure she could say so convincingly. Who was to say what would happen when she got there? Who was to say that she would find a job in Montreal post-graduation? Who was to say that she and Éliane would still be together that many years ahead?

“Look, I don’t know what’s going to happen between now and then – but I want this to work, between us. I’m not running away to Edmonton to find some other girl or to replace you and I promise I’m going to do my best to make this long distance whatever work between us.” She started and gathered Éliane in her arms. Her girlfriend made herself small and buried her face in the folds of her sweater, taking in a deep breath, committing the scent of Evelyn to her mind, already knowing she would be gone within a few months.

“I promise too,” Éliane added softly, not meeting Evelyn’s eyes, already fighting to keep the tears at bay, “I mean – I want this to work too and I want you to be happy, so do what you feel will make you happiest.”

“But you make me happy, El,” Evelyn pressed a kiss to the top of Éliane’s head and that at least got a smile out of her, “I like having you around.”

“And I’ll still be here – after you’re done, but I don’t want you to miss out on this opportunity. I don’t want you to have regrets, twenty years from now or resent me because in a way I kept you here – that you stayed back because of me.”

“Are you sure?”

Éliane nodded, “I’ll miss you. I already miss you. But we can still talk and text, yeah?” She asked as if it was a question – as if Evelyn wasn’t already thinking of having weekly video call dates, or something of the likes. She would be going from having Éliane around her nearly every day to being miles and miles apart. It would be a big adaptation – for both of them, but with Éliane’s blessing, Evelyn felt a little more confident that it would work out in the end.

Their last summer together was – different, if they were to compare them to the previous ones. Knowing that Evelyn would be gone by the end of it, Éliane made it a point to spend as much time with her as possible and to create as many memories – good memories, so that Evelyn would want to come back.

No matter how many times Evelyn reassured her that she would return, Éliane was still a little worried that this was it – that Evelyn would move on, but she still put on a brave face and did her best to be supportive and happy for her. (Which she was – but, why did Edmonton have to be so far away?)

On the day that she left, Éliane went to the airport with Mr and Mrs Murphy and did her utmost best not to cry in front of them. (There would be time later – when she was home and alone in her bedroom. She didn’t want to cause a scene at the airport. She didn’t want to be that person.)

“I’ll be back before you know it.” Evelyn told her when they shared one last tight hug. Her voice cracked a little and she did her best to swallow her own tears that threatened to spill forth.

“I promise I’ll try to come over reading week.” They’d talked of the possibility and Éliane had been firm when she’d said she’d come to Edmonton at any chance she had – anytime they had time off. Evelyn admired her determination, but felt her girlfriend had forgotten how expensive the plane tickets could get.

“Love you,” Evelyn chose to say instead.

“Love you more.” Éliane stepped back and let Evelyn go. She watched as her girlfriend exchanged one more hug with her family and then went to queue up with the other travellers. She waved and waved again and tried not to think about the gap she suddenly felt in her chest.

University turned out to be much harder than Cégep, but Evelyn enjoyed it a lot more. It wasn’t always easy, but the work was much more challenging and she felt like she was actually advancing with life. She got to reconnect with her old friends, made new ones and the only thing missing – the only person missing to make it all the more perfect was Éliane.

They made it a point to have weekly video calls, just like Evelyn had thought of before she left, but it wasn’t always easy to keep with their schedule, what with different time zones, part time jobs, school work and the myriad of other obligations that got in the way. Still, every time they did talk, Evelyn felt as though the missing puzzle piece to her life was slotted into place.

And, for as much as they settled into their new routine, slowly got used to not being around each other (Evelyn liked to say that absence made the heart grow fonder), there came a time when Éliane started to really think that Evelyn had moved on. When she would stay up far too late and see her girlfriend post photos on social media, out with her new friends, having a jolly good time, and some ugly thing inside of her whispered that Evelyn was replacing her – that this relationship would fizzle out. It also didn’t help that with time zones and busy schedules, midterms and projects, their weekly video calls became shorter and were sometimes postponed or cancelled.

Éliane tried to tell herself that it was normal, that Evelyn had a life out there, that she was busy herself, but the fear kept gnawing at her and she hated that she thought this way. Deep down she knew it wasn’t true, but no matter how hard she tried to convince herself, there was still always an ounce of doubt that stayed.

Eventually, it crept up in a conversation, just before winter break and Evelyn hated that her girlfriend thought she wasn’t as interested anymore.

“Sweetheart, no – look, I know it’s hard, I miss you – a lot, but I promise I really want this to work between us and if ever, for some really absurd reason, I wasn’t interested anymore, I would let you know. I would never string you along, okay? And even if I’m in class, or asleep, you can still message me – I’ll answer you later, just like we’ve been doing, alright?”

Éliane nodded and wiped the tears away from her eyes. She hated that she couldn’t be strong – that something so trivial had gotten to her, but at the same time, hearing Evelyn say those words comforted her a bit, “I love you,” She said instead, because it was true and because sometimes it felt like her heart was too small to contain all the love she felt for Evelyn.

“Love you more, you silly goose. And I miss you. And I’m looking forward to seeing you this summer.”

Éliane smiled a little at that – at the promise of two weeks with Evelyn mostly all to herself. It wouldn’t be the same as the other summers, but she supposed they had to make do with what they got.

“Thanks for listening,” She said.

Evelyn smiled softly and touched the screen for a moment, “Of course – I’m always here for you, just like you’re always there for me.”

It didn’t suddenly get better or easier after that call, but Éliane felt just a little less alone. She stopped worrying that she was being extra clingy and reached out to Evelyn whenever she felt she needed it. She didn’t hold back when she wanted to send her a message, even if it was a simple heart emoji and the wonderful thing was that Evelyn replied to every single one and would send them back as well.

For the first time since Evelyn had left for Edmonton, Éliane felt a little lighter and started to believe that they would grow stronger from this and that they’d find a way to make it work. It was hard work, sure, she didn’t always like the distance, but it made her appreciate the time they had even more and because it was worth it to her – to the both of them, it pushed them both to keep working towards it.

If Evelyn sent her a sweater of hers for Christmas, well, maybe, just maybe it became Éliane’s favourite and she compulsively wore it all the time over the following four years, even after it stopped smelling of her girlfriend.

Éliane still considered transferring to UofA, or at the very least, doing an exchange for one semester, just to be with Evelyn for a few months. When she told Evelyn about it, she suggested to go somewhere different – not to hold back just because of her. She didn’t want her to miss out on some great experience or opportunity and settle for this out of some skewed sense of obligation. She could always visit her in Edmonton, but how many chances would she have to go literally anywhere else in the world? Evelyn threw back at her the same words and wisdom she had given her a year before and, with Evelyn’s blessing, Éliane applied elsewhere.

In the end, she went to study art in Italy, for the length of her second semester. She loved every moment of it, fell in love with the people, the food, and the culture, and sent too many postcards to Evelyn, until her entire wall was full of them.

To top it all off, since the school schedule in Italy was a little different, Evelyn even managed to surprise Éliane at the end of the term, when she flew in to spend some time with her, and they got to spend two weeks together in Italy.

And, somehow or other, they made it through undergrad together, even if they weren’t always in the same city.

When Evelyn had to apply for her Master’s degree, she once more decided to apply to schools both in Edmonton and back in Montreal. After four years back home, she felt that she had found the catharsis and closure she had been looking for all those years, after her father had sprung the move on her back when she was in high school. On top of that, she had really missed Éliane and – to her biggest surprise, she had also missed her life in Montreal.

She still wasn’t sure where she would eventually settle, how that would play with Éliane, but she figured, if she studied in Montreal, it would buy them both another two years before they had to figure it out.

This time around, she was accepted to the better of the engineering schools in Montreal and so, she took that as a sign that moving back was the right course of action – at least for now.

To absolutely no one’s surprise, Éliane was very excited when Evelyn broke the news of her decision to her, a few days later, once she had accepted the offer and weighed in all the pros and cons, and Evelyn had to admit that she was looking forward to going back – to picking up where things had left off and moving forward.

She was still a little sad that she was leaving Edmonton behind yet again, but this time, it was on her own terms and she knew that she could always come back and that no matter where she lived or where she went, the city would always be part of her.

Her first year back was – interesting, to say the least. For starters, she had to get used to living with her parents again, which seemed like a strange thing to say, but she had gotten used to staying with her grandparents during her undergrad degree. On top of that, the commute was different from what she’d known beforehand and sometimes, she cursed the suburbs. It was so very far away and there was so much wasted time.

Another thing she had to get used to again, which was also a strange thing to say, was being around Éliane again – or at the very least, the possibility of being around her again more often. It took them a while to fall back into their regular old patterns, even if they were happy to be able to be together again. At first, Evelyn had worried that maybe being away for so long had changed her feelings for Éliane, but once they talked it over and figured things out, she settled in her new routine and got the hang of it.

During that first year, Éliane moved out of her parents’ place and got one of her own, which Evelyn started spending more and more time at, since it was much closer to school and it also gave them more privacy than in their former bedrooms. She was there so often, in fact, that by the end of the first semester, she had her own spare key to the place, in case Éliane wasn’t around and she wanted to crash, and by the end of the second semester, Éliane casually asked her if she wanted to permanently move in with her.

Evelyn had been surprised and shocked by the offer. She had thought about it, they had talked about it, but she hadn’t thought Éliane would ask her so soon. Then again, she supposed she hadn’t taken into account her girlfriend’s impulsiveness. Therefore, over summer break, Evelyn moved her stuff halfway across town and finally, she was settled in with Éliane.

Her second and last year of her Master’s was just as interesting as her first and came with its own challenges and adaptations. For starters, there was the fact that she was now living with her girlfriend. For as much as it was great, for as much as she loved the idea of having a place that was her own and that she and Éliane could build together, there were also times when they’d find themselves butting heads over the most inane of things. It was a test and exercise in compromise, patience, and communication and even though they didn’t always get it right on the first try, they kept at it and eventually found solutions to their problems.

Finally, eventually, she finished her program, somehow or other, and on graduation day, her parents, her sister, and Éliane were there to see her receive her diploma. There was something – oddly soothing about having them all there, about knowing that she could have this – that her parents were accepting and welcoming, that she had the chance and privilege to have this, when so many others did not.

To celebrate the occasion, Mr and Mrs Murphy took them all out to a nice dinner and Evelyn thought it was the perfect ending to her academic career.

It was only later, when they were back at their own place and her parents and sister had left that Evelyn received the surprise of her life.

“I have a gift for you,” Éliane said, which surprised Evelyn, since her girlfriend had already given her a gift earlier that moment. Then again, Éliane was notorious for such things, so really, it shouldn’t have come as a shock. However, what did come as a shock was when Éliane walked up to her, got down on one knee and then proposed to her – ring and all – speech and hopeful smile included.

And – they had spoken about this, before – had brought it up a handful of times under different circumstances; sometimes as a joke, other times seriously, but – it still took her by surprise for the simple reason that she hadn’t thought Éliane would ask her on the day of her graduation – or that Éliane would be the one to ask. If anything, Evelyn was convinced that she would have beaten her to it.

She said yes, obviously, and Evelyn wondered if it was possible to bottle up the giddy feeling she felt inside of her and drink from it for the rest of her life.

Éliane put the photo album she’d been perusing down when she heard the front door open followed by Evelyn’s usual “I’m home!” She craned her head back in time to see her wife remove her motorcycle helmet and put it down before she passed a hand through her hair. Éliane couldn’t help but smile, fond and still so very much in love after all these years, as she watched one of her favourite daily spectacles.

She greeted her back and then watched as her wife then removed her leather jacket and put down her messenger bag before removing her boots and making her way towards her. “Hi,” She said, smiling wider as Evelyn bent down to kiss her properly in greeting. They went through their daily exchange of “how was your day” and “you’ll never believe what happened when,” as Evelyn settled beside Éliane and made herself comfortable, slowly unwinding from her day.

“What have you been up to?” Evelyn asked as Éliane carded her fingers through her hair.

“I was doing some cleaning and stumbled upon our old high school album! Ended up doing a lot of reminiscing and got a little distracted,” She admitted with a laugh. Evelyn chuckled and rolled her eyes, far too used to her wife’s antics, but was nonetheless fond. Éliane was notorious for this, but it was endearing in its own way.

“Yeah?”

Éliane nodded and retrieved the aforementioned album from the pile of what turned out to be other photo albums and opened it up to a random page, “Look! There you are!” She said pointing at a photo of the theatre troupe.

Evelyn took the album out of her hands and brought it closer to her face to get a good look, she groaned when she saw the photo, “Ugh, what was up with my hair?”

“Hush you; you had very nice hair – you still have very nice hair,” Éliane reproached, taking back the album as though afraid Evelyn would say more bad things about her past self and somehow or other insult the album in the process.

“You were very biased,” Evelyn teased, grinning wolfishly at her.

“No – I just have impeccable taste.”

Evelyn laughed and pulled her wife closer, despite her protests at being manhandled in such a way (even though they both knew it was mostly for show), before she pressed noisy kisses to the side of her face, “Very, very biased – so biased. So biased that there’s a photo of you beside the definition of the word, in the dictionary.” She went on, grinning, inches away from her lips, “The most biased, actually,” She added before kissing her softly. She felt Éliane cup her face and kiss her back, soft and pliant, and so welcoming and loving – like always, like it had been those first careful times what felt like a thousand lifetimes ago.

“Just for you, darling,” Éliane murmured, moments later, when they parted to catch their breaths, “Always just for you.”

Evelyn laughed and the sound of it thrilled Éliane who held her wife close, loving her more with each passing moment – with each breath she took. She still thrilled and marvelled that even so many years later, they still kept choosing each other, every single day and she knew that for as long as she lived, Evelyn would always have her.

FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #pc: fem!montreal #is that gonna be a tag now lamao #pc: fem!edmonton #evelyn murphy #éliane maisonneuve #au #fic #it's DONE

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