reg

inspired by @grilledcheezy92's reblog of my Theo post. Yes, he is a very pretty birdie.

I actually (hopefully) have more Alexis pieces to share soon!

ft. Monroe Rebane

(guys i prommy i’ll post non-oc content soon just you wait to see what i’ve been cookin’)

David's voice was almost tender in its usual gruffines. The Alpha stood tall, on the spot that was bestowed to him way too early and way too fast. But he had no other option but to take it, filling shoes too big for him alone. Despite the help that was offered on every possible occasion, his stubbornness made him do it all on his own, his personal burden no one's to share.

The title came with new characteristics, it seemed. Woven between withdrawal from the closest to him and sharp, calculated, cold edge that his actions held, the David he knew started to blur into a mosaic of memories and moments squashed in Asher's patched up puppy heart.

"Better not to get on my boss' bad side, I guess." the chuckle was forced, throat squeezed shut to the point that even air flow barely managed to pass, let alone the saliva that pooled on his tongue at the sight of his broad back, straining a shirt he knew far too well. He used it as backup for Asher to sleep in when he came stumbling into their apartment, less than sturdy on his legs after a night out. Sometimes, forcing him under a shower and listening to his drunken babbling proved to be too much for the young Shaw.

The same one that still didn't turn around, face stubbornly away from Asher's pleading eyes for a change of heart.

Hope is mother of stupid, he heard the saying somewhere, sometime ago. And there wasn't a bigger fool than him right then.

The silence that fell between two best friends was grating at Asher's nerves, making him pop the joints in his knuckles, one after another. And then again, to make sure, body always restless, especially under stress. David hated that, pointing it out every time it happened, threatening him with arthritis, or in worse case scenarios, hand holding. Warm palm cradling his own, making sure to interlock their fingers together to prevent him from damaging his fingers.

He swallowed thickly again, phantom touch brushing past the top of his hand. Not too long ago, the same hand held him by his cheek, grazing the soft skin gently, stormy eyes looking into his own, reading through his mind like a book because David had that annoying ability to see him as he was. Nothing was able to be hidden from the Shaw and Asher couldn't help but show him everything he had.

His own demise too, the feelings that brought all of this to an end they both were too afraid to acknowledge.

"It's good to see you." was it now?

David finally sighed, slouched shoulders straightening, and faced him, setting the paper he was holding back onto the desk, leaning on it as his arms crossed on the same chest that Asher checked for steady breathing so many times after Gabe's passing. Keeping vigil by the shaken man to make sure he stayed safe and sane was the least he could do in the darkest of hours of the whole pack's life.

"Should I kneel? Or is the practice still not applying to our pack?" it was meant as a joke. Harmless and playful, like Asher's whole personality, but David frowned at the question as it was a personal offence.

"Don't act stupid now. I never want any of you, especially you, to kneel before me."

He knew what David meant. It was supposed to be only about the dynamic, that the greeting was weird, and it made him uncomfortable, like it did to his father. But for a reason well known to both of them, Asher's stomach sunk a little bit, swimming in the regret and guilt for wanting that was slowly filling his guts, making both of them wince at the words that hung in the air.

"Come here." like a mouse lured by the smelliest piece of cheese, he followed his voice, stepping right into the trap, already feeling the metal bars of it closing around his neck.

But it was only David, his hand gently forcing his head down to bump the foreheads against each other. Sign of respect, of mutual care and just something they learned to do so as kids, their wolves needing to feel the pack bond one way or another. After a day of playfighting, among spent breaths and tired smiles, the shifters would just... do that. Bump the foreheads, or nuzzle their noses, little Inuit kisses paired with a swift lick of the tongue when the other dropped his guard for long enough.

The gesture remained, turning into a welcome routine, something grounding for others or a simple show of affection for the rest. What it meant personally for them, was sacred, never to be adressed, buried under assumptions that staying away from the ache in their chests and guilt that kept rotting their minds was better than whatever else they could have.

Something about power imbalance. Trust and cold logic that Asher was never good at. Counting the risks was not his forte, to him belonged the warm smiles, snarky comments and breathless gasps of his best friend's name whenever he caught a moment alone, shame tinging his cheeks as his lips bled with the syllables that rolled so easily out of his mouth.

"It's good to see you too." it sounded so obvious, of course it was. To see, to feel, to touch, to sneak his own hand against the tender spot on David's shoulder, searching for the bumps underneath the cotton material. They were mostly healed up now, mark no longer visible but he knew it was there. Uneven space between the indents, his teeth were always on the crooked side, but the fangs dug deep, drawing blood through the flesh of muscle, paired with a needy wish for him to stay.

That was so long ago now. Almost a lifetime, in which Asher finally felt so lost in his own best friend, that he didn't even notice lack of his own mark. Some old fashioned shifters called it a "mating" one, meaning the obvious for anyone who dared to see it. And Asher never was a selfish man but in that moment, with his guard slipped, mind blown away with sensations he strove for his entire life, he lost it, whimpering and going lax in his arms, pleading the fate to somehow spin the world around and make them real.

"It's gone now." David whispered, nose still pressed against Asher's

"But it was there once."

preferably hurt/comfort level 3/5 when it comes to angst hehe

happy vacations! enjoy your free time to the fullest <33

(a/n: short but sweet! hope you enjoy!!)

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He gave them a glare that was intended to be withering but missed the mark by a country mile. He settled for making his tone as brittle and dry as possible.

"Not particularly, no."

They lapsed into silence, the gap filled by the rustlings of sheets and the intermittent hums and clicks of an air conditioning unit's power cycle.

"I just thought that he'd be happy to have me back, is all." He tucked an arm beneath his pillow, his words stilted and unready.

"Every conversation we have, every outing he briefs me on, you know who makes his way into William's every thought?"

He let out a laugh, a harsh, jagged utterance with absolutely no mirth to it at all.

"It's been years. Years since he left. And yet. 'How is he doing?' 'Does he seem happy?' 'His partner? How are they?' He has the resources to check on that himself. Obviously. But I'm the one who has to report."

The bitterness in his recount was tempered by the near perfect approximation of the accent, lulling and folding in the perfect places, crisp and curved and ancient.

He shifted onto his back, staring at the ceiling with fire in his eyes.

"I hurt for him."

"I know."

"I kill for him."

"I know."

"It's not enough for him."

"I know."

He turned onto his side, an expression so raw that it hurt to look him in the eye etched into his face. The need for paternal validation turned acrid jealousy was a yearning both primeval and tender. From the first murder to the last cruel word, the odds have ever been disproportionate in their stackings and devastating in their results.

"How am I enough for you?" he asked in a whisper that they could practically hold in their hands, pulsing and throbbing and weeping with prodigal lifeblood.

They gazed back steadily, unflinching at the maelstrom of agony that swirled within him, that pounded at his ribcage with a million miniscule hammers, playing his heartstrings like an instrument of woe.

"You just are."

because Misery loves company