#‘BEST NIGHT EVER!!! can’t wait to see the boys again [several winking faces]’ five stars

[bisexualboysbroadcast]

anybody else want to see the TripAdvisor reviews for the playboyy club???

[spiltscribbles]

this night seems so long!

~Notes: I’m reposting this and i’m still not happy with it :S rip XS

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.-

It is pleasant, indeed, while the summer lasts

with the mild pheasants' song ...

but now I feel the northern wind's blast—

its severe weather strong. 

Alas! Alas! This night seems so long!

And I, because of my momentous wrong

now grieve, mourn and fast.

TS Eliot

.-

The late summer chill seeps through the creeping windows into the flat that they once called home— the feebly standing, slowly disintegrating haven that was painted with laughter before lies, with hopeful kisses before hesitant touches. The cold burrows itself into Sirius’s bones and coats his every thought and  nests deep inside of him until he’s more frost than man.

But then he sees Remus— beautiful and golden and perfect Remus— padding out their bedroom clad in Sirius’s oversized jumper that swallows his hands whole, and that familiarly gentle smile that makes his eyes glitter  once his soft gaze rests on Sirius, and his sleep supple  skin tastes like the things too beautiful to name. He tastes like Remus— like sunlight and parchment and whispered laughter and raspy groans and that’s all Sirius ever wants, has ever wanted.

“It’s September first.” He says once Sirius finally unlatches from his neck, red faced and pleased, and Sirius swears that Ganymede has nothing on him. That if he could he’d restructure every celestial star from above to follow the precise slope of his nose, and the pedal soft curve of his cheek, and the path of his jawline to temple. For everyone to worship him in ways he’s always deserved.

“We’ve made it another month,” Sirius retorts, mixes the splash of milk with the sugar in Remus’s Earl Gray, which is a travesty and a point of teasing throughout their whole relationship since they were nothing but lads. Sirius blames Remus’s beverage faux pas— including his preferential nature to black coffee—to being raised by a Frenchman for a mother, and Remus always counters that if Sirius was any more bloody English he’d be afraid that Queen Elizabeth would poach him for her next husband. Which of course always ended the argument because then Lily would laugh from besides him, and Sirius would glare along with James— both hating it when Remus and Lily’s Muggle references go over their heads like a second language they couldn’t speak.

But Lily’s not here, and neither is James. They’re tucked away in another safe house— the fourth in a calendar year, and they’re both going a bit mad if the letter Lily sent him only a few weeks ago is anything to go by. And Sirius aches for the both of them, aches for baby Harry— his one year old God son who he loves like nothing else. And how could he not? He’s Lily’s bright eyes set into James’s open face, has James’s warm, brown complexion but inherited Lily’s freckles too. He’s Sirius’s God son, and there’s a mad man after him, and sometimes it feels like Sirius’s brain is a mushy, muddled stew melting out of his scalp when he’s forced to contemplate on it for too long— to contemplate on how little Harry seems incapable of escaping the danger— because it goes back to the same name over and over again. The name of someone Sirius refuses to ever let himself contemplate for longer than a breath.

“Aye,” Remus says in that lilting, Welsh bread accent of his before he takes a slow sip and Sirius is left to study the sweep of his long lashes against his fine bones and how less than a fortnight ago that face Sirius adores so endlessly  came home caked in mud and blood that was only partially  Remus’s own and Sirius wasn’t allowed to ask what happened while he cleaned the cuts and kissed the healed pink skin with gentle reverence. “Maybe 82 will be our year Paddy.” Remus says with such raw yearning that it blows the wind out of Sirius like he’s  just taken a bludger to the gut. And he feels so stupid and thankful all at once. Because of course those idl contemplations are nothing but ridiculous fodder. Of course Remus would never— could never.

“Yeah moony,” he says quietly. “Maybe it will.”

Sirius steps forwards, and he kisses him and Remus breathes out like he’s been holding it for a long while, and then his fingers slide into Sirius’s overgrown hair and tugs,  and they’re lost in one another for the rest of the morning.

.-

Three days later Remus leaves again under demands that he won’t ever disclose to Sirius— penance for the trust Sirius broke as a schoolboy with a prank that proved near deadly— and a week after that the Order gets news that the Prewettss were compromised, that it took five of those Death Eater bastards to finish them off, and that their older sister with seven kids of her own can’t bare to hold a public wake.

The cold gets worse, and Sirius doesn’t know where to step to avoid another avalanche; is afraid that with every move he takes, a landmine is waiting to blast.

.-

The bare branches of the elderly tree outside their flat knocks against the partition that once bathed them  in spilt sunlight and stolen serenity and careful comfort. It scrapes against the glass like the fingers of an inferi, accentuated by the sound of the whistling wind, crooning like the menacing melody by a milky eyed, haggard looking banshee. And everything is unmoving, everything is still— petrified for a moment in frozen history.

And Sirius feels his insides collapse when he remembers that he’ll never hear Gideon’s laughter or see Fabian sat next to Benjy again. It’s a generation lost, Sirius thinks morbidly, the way he always gets when Remus isn’t home and he’s tossing back shots of Fire-Whiskey like it’s what keeps his veins pumping life. A generation  of them that’s being killed off one by one, a generation of Hogwarts graduates being obliterated and there’s not an end in sight and Sirius wants to scream. He wants to fight them with his bare hands. He wants to ravage each of their hideouts and use them as target practice for his unforgivables and he wants to run, God he wants to run. He wants James and Lily and Harry to come with him, wants to steel Remus in the middle of the night before he knows what’s even happening. He wants to escape it all and hold onto his family with a iron grip that can only be severed through death.

Sirius wants it so much that it begins to ache, to twist in his stomach and weep within the hollows of his bones.

But then the branches knock against the window once more, and he’s brought back to a reality the makes even idyllic daydreams like that something treacherous and awful. So he pours himself another finger and raises the glass to fallen friends and pretends that the throbbing in his heart is something that can be spelled away if he only works hard enough.

.-

Remus comes home a week later and Sirius feigns that the sight of his lover doesn’t make Sirius picture Marlene’s twisted face of agony and Dorcas’s limp body at the feet of this dark wizard that has destroyed everything Sirius has ever known and tainted everything he has ever loved.

.-

The safe house is sparsely decorated, save for the candle Lily’s always got burning and the succulent she keeps on a shelf besides a small portrait of Harry, tucked between one of her and James on their wedding day, and another of the five of them at their Hogwarts graduation. 

It’s no home, especially not one for a baby that’s as curious and boisterous as little Harry. It’s a prison at best. still packed boxes strewn about the ground, and  a tension permeating the air and it’s awful. But Sirius manages to forget about it when he glances to his right and sees a giggling Harry bouncing happily on Remus’s lap, and Remus is glowing in a way Sirius hasn’t seen for edging on a year. The stiffness threaded through his shoulders has dissipated and his smile is wide and he’s dotingly kissing Harry’s chocolate splattered cheek while James and Lily roll their eyes fondly from across the breakfast spread. And Sirius thinks that if this is all he sees for the rest of his life he would thank every God and every spirit above.

“Uncle Moony, you better be convincing Harry that if he doesn’t eat his berries that the boogie man will come and munch on his toes tonight,” Lily scolds half heartedly, which makes James drop a kiss to the crown of her head before topping off her tea.

“No toes, mommy! No toes!” Harry babbles in that in-between state of gargling and speech that is as precious as it is incomprehensible.

“Saucy boy,” Sirius chuckles, tousling Harry’s already hopelessly disheveled hair and kissing the corner of Remus’s lips that taste like hazelnut and blueberries and a bit like sunlight too. And he thinks that this is what happiness feels like— He’s nearly forgot.

“I’ll get’m washed up, shall I?” Remus says as he rises swiftly from his seat, Harry clapping excitedly. 

“Good man,” James winks and Lily blows him a kiss. Remus looks down at Sirius, a brow cocked slightly.

“I’ll be up in a minute, yeah? Just wanted to help these plonkers with the dishes.”

Remus grins brightly and nods, and then, he stilts— like in hesitation— before kissing Sirius’s temple, promptly shuffling off and humming Harry an old French lullaby that he knows Hope once sang him when he was a boy.

And Sirius’s heart feels so full, so fragile, And Sirius hates that he didn’t tell him I love you, is afraid that the space of time that they’ll get to say that to one another is rapidly dwindling.

“We’re finishing up all the kinks in the plan,” James says, saddling up besides  Sirius, handing him a sponge and keeping the dishcloth in his own. “You still want to act as secret keeper?”

“Course you daft wanker,” Sirius bristles. “I’d do anything for you lot.”

“I know,” James says unflinchingly.  “You and Moony are the best friends a bloke can ask for.”

And God that hurts like nothing else, so Sirius doesn’t even try to retort in any meaningful sort of way.  “Don’t forget Wormyy.”

James laughs. “Would never dare.”

And then silence drops over them like a heavy quilt threatening to smother them to death. And Sirius scrapes off the grime from the dishes and pretends that the plate isn’t still scratched and battered even once the debris is gone. And he swallows down the lump in his throat when he remembers that Remus is leaving again in a matter of hours.

.-

Remus is still curved around Sirius like a blessing stroked to life  with heavenly colors the morning after he gets back. Sirius wraps his arms around him, squeezes tightly and berries his head into his neck, wanting to feel him, to smell him all over. And as they lie down in that heap in the bed Sirius has always called theirs, but Remus has only ever referred to as Sirius’s, he sobs.

“Don’t go Remus, don’t leave me anymore. Just stay here, stay with me. I love you so much that I’m afraid I’ll crack with it and I know you don’t— that you can’t feel the exact same way— but please, just don’t leave us. Stay here, stay and love me too.”

Remus’s even breaths never falter, and he never flutters his eyes open, but Sirius has known him for nearly half his life, and he knows it like he knows his own name that Remus is awake and simply doesn’t answer him. 

What Sirius doesn’t know is what that means.

.-

They’re sitting on either end of the couch now. 

Sirius is pretending to fill out a crossword but is actually trying to decode a letter they had been able to intercept between McNair and a lower ranking Death Eater about some assignation that was meant to be held in the wee hours of October seventh. But every few minutes his eyes wander to Remus, to how he’s curled up with a book of poetry in one hand and his blanket swathed around him. His fringe is hanging in limp curls and the circles beneath his eyes are only that much more prominent, that much more sickly. And his gaze is large and fragile in a way Sirius has never seen. And he wants to slide the novel out of Remus’s hands and he wants to kiss away his frown, and he wants to lock his fingers through the holes in his green sweater and he wants Remus in every way imaginable, to tell him I love you and I love you and I love you so much its like I’m dying. He wants to kiss the inside of his elbow and the knot of his ankle and beneath his naval too. He wants him and knows that he’ll never stop wanting him, and is sure that this— this love— will prove his Achilles’ Heal, and Remus is Patroclus destined to leave him  first and Sirius is destined to wallow in ruin.

Sirius wants to beg him to stay here, to stay with him, to love him like he knows he does.

But Sirius simply does not— Does not tell him any of that.

They haven’t spoken to one another with words for days now, and it feels pathetic and hopeless— the way they only regard one another with stiff lips and cautious glances in the daylight, but that doesn’t stop them still clutching for one another once the sun dips into the  horizon. Like if they can convince themselves that the sex is still miraculous that they still love each other too. As if their bodies aren’t just vessels, aren’t just sacks of skin and bone. And it feels like they’re both giving up on one another and holding on to each other with equal fervency. And Sirius doesn’t know anything any more.

It’s pathetic and it’s painful and it’s pointless. It’s so obviously over, it’s been over for nearly half a year, but they’ve always been cowards when it came to one another. And Sirius doesn’t think that will ever change.

So he only settles deeper into the couch, and he keeps the Shakespeare in Remus’s grasp, and he moves his free hand to deftly clutch around one of Remus’s cold feet, and he squeezes and Remus freezes, and they both breathe for the first time in far too long. But then Remus pulls away, and Sirius lets go before he can feel the sting of rejection and they go back to pretending to go on.

.-

Remus is gone the next morning for a council with Dumbledore, so Sirius wanders the flat like a ghost with no direction, no idea what’s next.

He decides to tidy up the space, like it matters, like anything is normal. And when he reaches for the empty mug on Remus’s nightstand, he sees that his book of poetry is still open, and he lifts it to glance at the sonnet written their in black and white…

When my love swears that she is made of truth

I do believe her, though I know she lies,

That she might think me some untutor’d youth,

Unlearned in the world’s false subtleties.

And Sirius throws it hard against the wall before he can read another word.

.-

Remus is preparing for another mission for reconnaissance, tells Sirius that night over their curry take away. And it feels like the world is dissolving right in front of Sirius’s eyes, like his lungs have forgotten how to breathe during those interludes where Remus leaves without a trace— only starting up again when he returns smelling of blood and fear and the outdoors. And Sirius hates everything so much— Is afraid that he hates Remus most of all some days, even if he’s the one person he can’t fathom existing without. 

.-

The sky breaks open that night and rain pellets down like the bullets from the Muggle films that Remus loved showing him, before the war, and before his disappearing act, and before it felt like a knife was plunged into Sirius’s chest every time he looked at him— and the only worst thing than this would  be if he stopped seeing Remus all together, because he knows it like the innate way he knew how to move his lips against Remus’s on that feted day towards the start of seventh year— that the knife would simply be pulled out and he’d bleed to death bit by bit. 

It hurts like nothing else loving him, but Sirius can’t fathom a world where he does not. Where he doesn’t get to trace the consolation of freckles dusting his high cheekbones, where he doesn’t get to kiss the singular mole at the nape of his neck that’s ordinarily covered up by his thick jumpers. A world where they don’t intwine in the ways that lovers are want to do.

Sirius loves Remus even if he knows it’s fruitless because there’s a war destroying the world and there’s a spy in the order and Remus is the only one who’s brilliant in a reserved way  and cunning when he wants to be and the only one who knows how to properly keep a secret from his friends like it’s a second skin that he wears as effortlessly as a cloak.

And God.

Remus is sitting besides him now, a pinky’s breath away from his perch on the sofa.

There are words that writhe in Sirius’s throat, clacking against his teeth, begging to spill out. He wants to tell Remus he loves him, that he’d forgive him anything. He wants to tell him that Remus can Avada Kedavra him in the cold morning light and Sirius would still only see him bathed in an etherial  glow, but can’t see him doing that to their dearest friends, to Harry who is sacred and should always be protected. He wants to beg him to just speak, to tell Sirius the truth, to tell Sirius he still loves him. Beg Remus to run away with him. To go off to Prague or Cordova or maybe even the states, to say sod it to the whole damn war and just spend their days and nights tangled up with naked limbs and sweaty sheets.

And he thinks he will, thinks that the burning sensation of want within him is too furious to tempt down anymore.

But then the dying sun shimmers through the window, unspools in Remus’s honey curls and twinkles in his butterscotch eyes that were once always dancing with a quiet humor that enthralled Sirius to him like a drifter to a prophet. And it’s not healthy, this vigil he’s always held for him— especially now, especially with his suspicions that James begrudgingly agrees with and Lily fumingly does not— but Sirius’s never been one for self preservation, has never known how to let a scab heal over naturally. He has to poke and prod until it scars, until it becomes a indelible part of him. 

They stay there like that for either a minute or hour more, and when Sirius sees that Remus finally has enough of their staring match, he begins to move away, and it is Sirius— with a quick hand and desperate need— who presses him back down to the cushions with a hot mouth and wandering palms and he pretends that all he feels at the sound of the whimper Remus lets out is pleasure and not pain from his heart chipping that much more.

And this is vacant of words too. This is just instincts and moans and intuition of knowing another’s body and pleasure points and wants  for half a decade now.

They make it to the bedroom and Sirius refuses to be gentle, refuses to deprive himself of anything, and Remus is matching him with every thrust.

When they kiss its wet, and Sirius knows its the tears leaking out their eyes, and he knows in that unspoken, understanding way that this is the final time. That when Remus leaves later tonight, he’ll stay gone, that he won’t ever sleep besides Sirius again, won’t ever hold him like this. Sirius will never get to see him in the splendid, golden hours of morning and never get to run away with him after all. So Sirius blunders Remus’s mouth with his hard tongue, and he relishes the way Remus bites on his bottom lip until he tastes blood. And he throws them onto the mattress and they wrestle together in the sheets, scratching and pulling and canting obscenely. And when Sirius kisses his protruding collar bone it’s I’m saying I love you, and when Remus sucks on the hinge of Sirius’s jaw it feels like an apology. And when Sirius squeezes the scar on his inner thigh where the very first bite mark lies mangled and knotted in his skin, he’s begging him one last time to stay, and when Remus tells him in a voice that’s tenuous and tender and filled with sorrow, “Fuck me” the syllables slot together in a different formation that sound like “I’m already gone.”

They’re having parallel conversations and they’re not speaking and it’s the end.

So Sirius bucks against him and Remus wraps his long, long legs around Sirius’s narrow waste, and Sirius codes his fingers with the lube they’ve always kept in his nightstand and is fast when he plunges them into that ring of tight, tight muscle, when he stretches and scissors  and slicks him open, spurred on  by Remus’s gargled words begging him. “Now Sirius, now, now. Do it now.”

So he doesn’t bother with any of the rest of it. He barely sheaths himself half way before he has to stop, has to catch his breath, to re acclimate himself to the pressure. But then he hears Remus whimper and he surges forwards and doesn’t let up this vicious rhythm that he hears pulsing in his fucking ears. And it’s graceless and it’s hard and it’s a bit rushed but it’s what they need. And when Remus tosses back his head— features twisted up with emotion— Sirius berries his face into his neck and he feels his tears intermingling with Remus’s own and Remus’s loud pleads for him to go rougher, to stay longer, to keep fucking into him. So Sirius listens because there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Remus— even now— and he focusses on his hand circling Remus’s length, on pumping it with a tight fist and a bit of a twist, the way Remus has always preferred it. And he hears Remus croaking out an “I’ve always loved you,” and even if those words are too late, too little, too hollow, they still work to bring him off the edge, and Sirius thrusts deeper only twice more before he’s releasing himself into him— into the love of his life— quickly followed by Remus’s own cock whimpering out it’s own climax. And it feels like the ending to the story Sirius never wanted to stop being told.

But before he can pull out his overstimulated prick from Remus’s arse, Remus just squeezes him with his legs,  eyes fluttering shut while he rests his arms around Sirius’s broad shoulders. “Just stay.” he asks. “Stay until I have to go.”

And the sound of him— so desperate so pliant so tired— breaks the rest of his heart so much so that Sirius feels the remains splintering in his lungs and shattering open his ribcage with a sob he never lets out until Remus is gone.

“Anything you want Moony. Whatever you ask.”

And Remus’s lips twitch up into the best approximation of a smile that he’s given Sirius in far too long, and Sirius rests his head against Remus’s chest, and kisses the freckles that he was so elated to find their the first time they had done this. And he takes in deep the scent of  cinnamon and citrus and sunlight that’s always clung to his skin, and he thinks that this is the first time they’re letting each other feel hopeless together.

.-

The cold has turned over to a blizzard, and it seizes the flat once more the next morning.

Remus is gone and Sirius is left alone and nothing is right.

So he grabs the floo powder from the beautiful, ceramic container Hope had gifted Remus when he first moved into the flat the summer after their seventh year, and he finds James waiting for him on the other side, and he’s never taken in just how exhausted and terrified and sad his brother is looking these days.

“Wotcher, Pads.” James says, sipping on his tea with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and nothing is alright, nothing will probably ever be alright again.

“Hiya, Prongsie,” Sirius says, hearing just how threadbare his voice sounds in the quiet of the Potter cottage.

“So just a morning call? Or would you like me to fetch Haz for you?”

Sirius swallows the lump in his throat and forces himself to speak.  “James I love you more than life, love Lily and the sprog just as much— But—“ he chokes up right then before ramming forwards. “I can’t— I can’t be the—“

“I know,” James interrupts, a thin, forgiving smile on his face. “Pete’ll have to do, but I’d still rather it you.”

“I’m so sorry James.”

“Me too.”

.-

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist

[florencewritez]

Euphoric

AN: have a good day <3

WC: 6431  words

WARNINGS: consumption of alcohol, cursing "Mia, babe I genuinely don't know what I'd do without you," I told her as she carefully applied another white dot above my eyebrow to the row she'd already done. Mia only smiled, squeezing my cheeks a little more and telling me to keep my eyes closed or she'd poke them out. Begrudgingly, I did as she asked, tearing my eyes away from the stunning red look she'd given herself earlier. When the Glastonbury Festival started approaching quicker and quicker and me and Mia still had nothing planned, it had been Will who suggested who went as a pair. Angel and devil. Of course, we had to jump on the idea, we'd never pass that photo opportunity. That had been around four weeks ago. Now, it was only around an hour before our group would leave for Glastonbury and I finally felt the festival excitement bubbling in my stomach. Clearly, it bubbled out too, making me squirm a little, as Mia scolded me for moving and again repeated her empty threat of poking my eye. I only giggled. Mia was the least likely person to poke someone's eyes out, let alone mine. She knew it too because when I peeked my eye open, I saw her soft smile, eyes crinkling and making a single star she'd stuck on fall off. By the time we arrived, I was sure they'd all be gone."All done! You can look now."

"Finally." She playfully smacked my arm and handed me a hand mirror. The girl looking back at me felt like a different person. Roségold shimmery eyelids with a small line of white streaking through the glitter. Pretty highlight covering my cheeks and nose, like I'd captured the very essence of a rainbow on my face, complete with two white strokes at the top of my nose. And to top it all off, the white dots above my eyebrow, complete with little jewels in between each dot. Somehow, I actually did feel angelic, more than I had when I'd actually put the wings on that were supposed to be the trademark angel piece. Mia truly had worked wonders. "I can't believe this is really me, you're makeup skills are underrated," she snorted and sat down beside me, tilting the mirror to check her hair, hand tucking a spare curl behind her ear, lips turning up into a smile. "It's payback for styling my hair, don't undersell yourself either y/n." Will's voice echoed down the hall, telling us we were leaving to catch the bus soon and I smiled at the dark-haired girl beside me. I could already feel the music pounding through my veins, the adrenaline pumping through me after the fairground. I'd been attending festivals with Will and our friends since we'd moved to London together, having grown up together as neighbours and decided to pursue YouTube together. Some of my best memories in recent years were spent in a random field usually used for dairy farming, screaming lyrics to a song I didn't know I knew, clinging to someone's wrists as we jumped up and down to the beat. The inevitable headaches were always worth the feel of the moment, not to mention the pictures dotting my wall of the before and after that always made me smile when I woke up. George, Will, Becky, James, Aria, even a few random strangers always greeted me, either pissed out of their mind or suffering a severe hangover. However, whilst Mia's face did make an appearance in several non-festival pictures on my wall, this would be the first time we attended a festival together. She'd only started dating Will a little over a year ago and at the time, she hadn't quite been welcomed to the group enough to join us for festival season. Now though, after nights spent together with our group at clubs or nights out and a lot of sleepovers with just me, her and Aria, it'd be a sin to not bring her. I turned to face her, excitement flashing in my eyes and took her hand in mine. Mia smiled back at me, squeezing my hand. "I can't believe this is the first festival we'll spend together Mia, it feels long overdue." "The first of many right?" I saw a flicker of anxiety pass through her eyes and knew she sometimes felt she didn't fit in our group, even now. I understood where she was coming from, it was always hard to find your footing in such a tight-knit group of people who'd known each other for ages, but truly, everyone loved her just as much as the others. Especially me. "Of course. You're one of us now." She wrapped her arms around my shoulders in a short tight squeeze, our perfumes mixing together for just a second. It was a sweet moment, my best friend hugging me close, but I couldn't help but tease her. After all, it was Will she was dating. "Though if I have to watch you and Will make out I will puke, that's too much for me. May I remind you I knew him when he was a square little lad in a diaper." Mia rolled her eyes, pulling me to my feet. I was reminded of the silver heels I was wearing on then when I stumbled forwards, grateful for her being there to make sure she caught me. "Oh please, it's not me and Will anyone is worried about. Can we talk about you and Alex?" She winked. I flushed pink, (which probably looked rotten combined with the highlight) and Mia grinned, her tongue peeking through the gap in her teeth. Alex. At first, when Will started blowing up, dragging me along from almost being featured in his videos, he started making a lot of new friends that I had never met before for the first time in our lives. Before that, we'd always had the same friend group, even through the awkward high school years where friend groups were extremely messy. One day, he'd managed to drag me to a bar with his new friends, despite my complaining, and that's where I'd met Alex. Or rather, where we met each other. Stupid swooped hair with eyes that rewrote my definition of blue eyes the very first time my eyes met his. It had been Alex who managed to integrate me into Wills new group and Alex who remained the closest person in our group to me even to this day. Alex who, along with George, my favourite mask-wearing bloke, I moved in with once Wills place got a bit cramped. And of course, Alex who all my friends liked to tease me about dating. Of course, they did the same to him, probably worse considering the boys were usually a bit dirtier mouthed with each than with the girls, but I was the only one who turned red all the time. Probably because they were right mostly. When Mia prodded about the way I looked at him, my efforts to say there was nothing to prod at were all lies. When James would wink at me when Alex would pull me in closer on nights out, always downing whatever drink was in front of him before I could glare. When Will sat me down one day, patting my knee, and asked if I liked him, he saw past my eye rolls and dramatic head shakes. Most of all it was George who brought it up, always finding a way to shove at least five comments a day about our relationship and giving me the look when I'd mumble a comment back. Because yes, of course, I liked him. I had a stupid school girl crush at the same age I got blackout drunk and could legally do drugs in some countries. Alex was the nicest person I'd ever met, always treating me with such kindness and respect. Some nights I'd pass out by my desk when editing, exhausted from the hectic schedule I forced myself to follow. When I'd wake up, my video editing would be finished and there'd be a sticky note by my head, something that would make my heart beat a little faster, with his signature and a small heart. Not to mention the blanket thrown over my shoulders that smelled faintly of him. That was just one of the many things Alex did for me regularly without ever asking for anything. Yet, something deep inside me screamed to not do anything about it, screamed it was purely platonic on his side. Alex would constantly chatter about what a great friend I was, how much he loved me as a friend. For some reason, him friend-zoning me accidentally hurt a lot more than if he hated me. At least then there was a chance he'd see me as something more than a best friend, even if it was a mortal enemy. Mia cleared her throat and I snapped back to reality, laughing awkwardly. "There's nothing to talk about Mia. We're just friends." If Will hadn't called again, I would have been in for a lot of questions and yet another speech begging me to just tell him. Instead, she just sighed and rugged on my arm. "We'd best be going before his head explodes." "That'd be a sight to see. He doesn't deal well with stress you know," I told her, walking out of my room with our arms interlocked. "Did you know during our GCSEs, I found him out my back in the wet dirt, mumbling algebraic formulas?" "Ay, y/n are you telling that bloody GSCE story again?" Will called, peeking his head out from around the corner. His festival sunglasses were perched in his hair and I couldn't help but giggle.  "I'm sorry Will, it's just so fucking hilarious." "To be fair Will," Mia said, holding back a laugh, "it's pretty funny." Neither of us could hold back our laughter and finally cracked when his glasses slid down his face. Will groaned and told the boys waiting on the couch behind him we were bullying him again. I heard James say he probably deserved it, followed by Georges laughter and Alex's giggle. "Are they ready yet?" Aria called, having arrived with James already ready way before me or Mia had even started. Mia let go of my arm and walked ahead to the living room, posing at the doorway. Aria gasped and said she'd looked gorgeous and Will said the same, snaking a hand around her waist. Gross. Still, no matter how gross I called Mia and Will sometimes or how much I insisted nothing was going on between me and Alex, it didn't stop me from smiling like an idiot when he stopped giggling, calling me pretty. Schoolgirl crush. That was all that was. We'd finally piled onto the coach awhile after before pictures already filling my camera roll and only two videos on my Instagram story. One of me recording when Mia was doing my makeup and the other just our group leaving me, George and Alex's apartment to get the coach simply titled 'it begins'. Once on the coach I came to the startling revelation everyone expected me to sit with Alex, the couples all pairing up and Becky insisting she absolutely had to sit with George. My eyes stared out the window, surprising heavy despite not doing anything yet. "You alright?" Alex asked, poking me in the ribs as the coach finally started, several cheers erupting around us. I couldn't help but smile back, nodding my head. His eyes didn't stop looking worried so I opened my mouth. "I'm fine, don't worry Al. I'm just tired for some reason." "To be fair, you and Mia were up half the night talking about today. I warned you to sleep you know, don't blame me." I giggled remembering how he'd come into my room several times to warn me and Mia to get some sleep. Back then we'd only waved him off, saying we were having girl talk. Now, I wished I'd listened as a yawn escaped my throat. "See?" "Fine, you win. I should have slept earlier last night. I'll be fine when we get there, the pure adrenaline will be enough to keep me up for the entire festival." He didn't look convinced. "It takes around an hour and a half to get there you know." "I'm aware." "Go to sleep, I'll wake you when we arrive. Promise." At first, I was going to deny and say I'd be fine, ask his opinion on the latest Star Wars movie so I could listen to him ramble again. However, as another yawn escaped me, I smiled and nodded, telling him he'd better wake me up when we arrived. "Of course I will, I need someone to go on rides with me. We both know the others are pussies." I smiled, eyes closing without me telling them to. "Of course they are. We're the only brave ones on this bus. We'll ride all night." Alex raised his eyebrow but I was too tired to care, leaning my head on the bus window. The loud rattling actually helped ease me into sleep and the last thing I remembered before waking up was hearing a snippet of James and Arias conversation behind me, laughing about some joke I didn't understand. Gross couples. "N/n, mate, everyone else is waiting outside. Can you please wake up." It was dark for a bit, my dream ending before it really begun because of Alex's voice cutting through the cloudy landscape I'd arrived in. Whatever I was lying on was warm and I nuzzled in more, sleepily asking for five more minutes. Alex chuckled and poked my cheek. "We've arrived you know. The first festival of the year? The one you're usually most excited for?" I had no idea what he was talking about till the wings I had on ached against my back. Shit. The fucking festival. I jumped up quickly, too excited to be embarrassed about the fact I'd somehow ended up sleeping on Alex's instead of the window and smiled. "Everyone else is outside yeah? Do I look okay?" It was then I noticed the pink on Alex's shoulder, sticking out a lot against the light blue denim. Crap, my lipgloss. I opened my fanny pack, white to match my outfit of course, and searched for that stupid tube of lipgloss I'd brought to retouch it later. Of course, I hadn't planned to wipe it off completely on my friends' fucking jacket before I even got off the bloody coach but hey, at least I was prepared. Finally, I found the blasted thing, under my purse, phone, portable and a small bottle of vodka, of course at the very bottom and pulled it out, holding it like a sacred Egyptian jewel.Then there was another problem. "Crap, I didn't bring a mirror. How am I supposed to apply it now? Wheres my blasted phone?" Again, I started to scramble through my bag. Alex gently grabbed my wrist, stopping me from shoving my hand around. "I can do it for you, it can't be that hard. I've watched you do it to yourself like a million times."I paused. For some reason, that sounded like the worst best idea ever. I sucked my teeth for a moment before nodding. "Go on then, it's a challenge." I tossed the tube onto his lap and turned my face towards him, urging him to do something before I did. He unscrewed the tube, a focus in his eyes I'd only ever seen when he was working a video before and then gently placed his hand on my cheek, leaning in. I parted my lips as he carefully did his best to apply an even layer of sheer pink, so close I could feel his breath on my face. I gulped, moving closer to him subconsciously, hand gripping his thigh. "I think I'm done," he whispered, pulling the lipgloss down but still not moving back. In fact, I felt his hand tighten into my hair, tugging it slightly. My eyes darted from his eyes to his lips. "Thanks," my voice was barely a whisper, more of a gasp honestly, and still neither of us leaned back. I wondered if his eyelashes were always this dark or he'd changed overnight. "Oi lads, I'm going to have to start driving to pick up the 2 o clocks now. Are you okay back there?" The bus driver suddenly called, peeking his head out of his seating area. I snapped back into my seat, zipping my bag closed as Alex cleared his throat, standing up. He told the bus driver we were fine, that I'd lost a contact and then we scrambled off the bus, pulling oh hands back at even the slightest contact. The moment my feet touched the grass, I was swooped away by Mia and Aria, both smirking at me, eyes wide. "What?" I asked, my voice a lot more bashful than I meant it to. "What was that?" Aria asked, Mia nodding behind her. Arias's hand was resting on my shoulder, Mia grasping at Arias in a small human centipede. "What was what?" Completely inconspicuous, they'll never know. "Dude, James told us he'd seen you and Alex nearly kiss Alex on the bus," my eyes widened and I was quick to ask how he'd possibly seen that, bus windows weren't the easiest to see through. "He went back on to tell you and Alex to hurry up and instead found you knee-deep in a shift session," Mia exclaimed, a giggle in her tone. "Nothing happened. I just asked him to put my lipgloss on because I didn't bring my mirror." Both of them raised their eyebrows and slowly nodded. "Nothing happened," I repeated slower, making sure to make eye contact with both of them. They seemed to let it go, at least for now, and Becky's voice cut through the air and her arms were thrown over Aria and Mia's shoulders. I laughed at their surprised faces smiling at Becky who already seemed to have cracked up the drink she'd brought in her fanny pack. "Come on girls, let's go in before the boys yeah? The real show doesn't start till tomorrow when performers come so I say first stop the pier yeah? I want some candy floss." Becky looked at me, hoping I'd take her side so she'd get her damn candy floss and I complied, laughing and throwing my head back as I threw my arm over Mia's other side. "I'm down for some 1pm candy floss. Feel like we're going to have a lot of that this weekend ay?" Becky whooped again as Mia and Aria agreed and we all started to walk towards the entrance, Mia yelling for the boys to hurry up and follow before they got lost. Still, even as I laughed at another joke Becky told, posing for a video Mia was taking as we entered, I couldn't help but let my mind linger to that bus seat, to my wet lips of floss, to crystal blue eyes, to what could have happened. I tossed my head over my shoulder, hoping to see Will or George or James or even the fucking busman to distract myself but of course, instead, I met the same stupid blue eyes. He stopped talking and looked at me, I took a deep breath and then James nudged his side and Mia squeezed my ribs and the moment was over. God, this stupid tension had to arrive now, didn't it? Couldn't have waited till after festival season? Still, nothing a bit of alcohol couldn't help drown out, right? Right? "Are we going to go on the rides today lads or are we waiting for that madness till tomorrow?" George yelled over music playing, the night being relatively old at that point. Aria and James said they were heading to their tent now so they'd pass for now, as did Mia and Will after Mia persisted a little. Becky tucked her arm into mine and asked if I wanted to go to our tent yet since we were sharing and I thought it over, biting my cheek. The air still smelled like candy floss, as did Becky's breath and probably mine, though there was a slight sting that I put down to the few shots I'd downed so far, not enough to be pissed just yet. That was for Saturday night. I thought it over for another second before shaking my head, pulling back for Becky's grasp. "Actually Beck, you go ahead. I'm going to stay back with Alex," I turned and gave him a small smile, finally meeting his eyes for the first time since the incident and he smiled back. "He owes me a few hundred rides to live up to his earlier words, right Al?" "That's right. You can go back too if you want George, you keep yawning on me." "Yeah, I think I'll pass on watching whatever the fuck that's going to be you're right, I'll make sure Becky gets back to her tent fine. I'll wait with her till you decide what you're doing yeah?" I didn't ponder on what George meant and only let out a whoop, promising Becky I'd get back fine. She smiled, her nose scrunching and she pressed a kiss to my cheek before nodding at George to go. I watched her go with him, a few close encounters with people already puking on the ground from a really bad-or good-night depending on your perspective. I jumped when I felt someone take my hand until I realized it was Alex, his voice close to my ear, making me shrink away. "So Will and that are already boning huh? Think they could have waited till tomorrow to settle in at least." I snorted and pushed him away, gagging at that thought. "Jesus Alex please refrain from giving me that image. Will is still twelve years old to me. Not to mention little Aria with my man James." "Your man James? I'm offended I thought I was your man." There he goes again, that stupid your man joke. Still, it did make me smile genuinely, even if I rolled my eyes to hide how my face was so bright. I took his hand and let it rest over my shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to it as we walked towards the flashiest ride. "Of course you're my man. My favourite man. But you currently aren't riding anything so I think you're a man backing out of his promise," I carefully evaded a man pissing, his poor girlfriend looking disgusted beside him, still keeping my eyes on Alex beside me. "Then let me prove it to you, three rides on this bastard. Unless you're too scared?" I chuckled, stopping to take his other hand and lean up, glaring me eyes threateningly. "Alex Elmslie, you're fucking on. The first to chicken out this weekend has to do what the other says." He thought about it for a moment before nodding, returning the glared eyes. "Okay, then y/n l/n. First challenge is this. Oh, and by the way, I'm not going to lose." Oh, it was definitely on. The last day arrived quicker than anyone wanted to and before I knew it, my suitcase was packed again, ready for the coach that would pick us up tomorrow. Still, there was one more night to enjoy and especially one last performance. Becky put her phone down, sighing as she tucked her hair behind her ear again. "Babe, we have to go soon. Billies performance will definitely be packed and I don't know about you, but I want to be as close as possible." I smile back, finally satisfied with my last day look. A simple soft pink makeup look complete with a light pink dress and flats. Flats made it a lot easier to hop around. "I'm ready Beck, just waiting for the others to show up at this point. You definitely told James and Aria to meet us here right?" Becky nodded, checking her phone again but her eyes rolling at the lack of new messages. I considered just going to save a spot for our group with just Becky until there was a yell outside asking if they could come in. A few moments later, James Marriotts face peeked through the now unzipped hole of our tent, a smile on his face. After another second, Arias's face appeared on top, face covered in pretty blue glitter. "You ready to be going then? Mia will kill me if we don't get a good spot." James tilted his head, a serious tone to his not really a joke-joke. "Oh I know," I edged towards the tent door, smiling. "She's been raving about this performance for weeks now. If she doesn't get to see more than a bean from a distance, she'll have all of our heads." Aria laughed and they both stood back, letting me step into the warm air. Ah, England's summers, surprisingly warm most of the time for such a known shit weather country. "Alex wouldn't shut up about it last night either to be fair though I suspect at least half of that was due to the drink." Becky followed me out and shared a glance with the couple. Aria licked her lips and looked away. Becky seemed to stifle a laugh, disguising it as a slight cough. I narrowed my eyes at James, hoping he'd crack and eventually he did, sighing. "Y/n, we were wondering if that stupid competition thing was still going on." I raised my eyebrows, falling into step with the trio as we headed for the stage she was performing at in an hour. "Yeah, we decided to keep it going till the festival was over. Why, would you like to join?" I teased, receiving unimpressed grunts from the whole group. Aria piped up next, seeming to take a long time in what she said next. For some reason, I felt like I wasn't going to like what she had to say. "It just feels like it's delaying the inevitable or something, that's all." "What's the inevitable?" "You and Alex getting married and having six children, three dogs and a cat." Becky chirped up, giggling. Aria and James laughed along with her. I could tell that I'd turned red and unfortunately, no makeup could cover that mess, which made everyone laugh a little harder. "I don't like Alex, we're just friends." "N/n, we were all there that night last year. Plus, there's behind such a weird vibe with you two lately, not to mention the way you look at each other all the time. Like bloody puppies or something." Aria tells me and this time, my face pales. That night a few months ago. It had been just another late night out at the club, some music playing in the distance as we all had a chat and chugging back as much as we could consume without dying. I decided to be brave and asked Alex to dance, tugging him to the floor before he could refuse. At first, we'd just been messing, twirling and more so stumbling around the place, clinging to each other for support as the world seemed to spin. It'd been just as I fell forwards the DJ announced they were starting romance hour, the music switching from stupid random beats to the soft vocals of Billie Eilish, singing about ocean eyes and falling from a height. Neither of us moved, my arms remaining wrapped around his neck as they had to stop me from falling, Alex's softly placed on my waist. "I like this song," I told him, leaning up to his ear on my tippy toes so he could hear me. "Me too, Billie's proper class." I snorted, falling back onto my heels. "It reminds me of you actually, this song," Alex tilted his head, pulling me in a little closer. "Because your eyes are blue are so pretty. You know, the first time we met the first thing I noticed was how pretty they were, even before I thought anything about how soft your hair looked. Will had to nudge me back to reality. Felt like everything just suddenly made sense." My words were slurred, heavily influenced by tequila and the heaviness starting to fall over my eyes. Still, I felt his lips press against mine, felt how it was better than any drink or drug. Perfectly moulded together, as though it was meant to be. I pulled him closer, fingers curling into his hair and he gripped desperately at my dress, his fingers able to be felt through the stupid fabric.When we'd pulled back, the song changed and I suggested we headed back to our friends, didn't look him in the eye. He agreed and we never spoke of it again. I had assumed our friends hadn't seen, that we'd been swallowed into the crowd as just another couple making out to a song. The look on my friends face at that moment told me otherwise."I just thought none of yous had seen that," I stammered, eyes looking to the ground so I didn't have to meet their eyes. "Of course we did, you were only a few feet away. Honestly, after that, we'd all just assumed you were dating in secret until this challenge thing." James explained, pointing to the girls to back him up. Both of them nodded, Aria looking slightly guilty and Becky just grinning.Great, everyone thought I was shagging my stupid crush. "Well we aren't, that was just a drunk mistake. Me and Alex are just friends, I promise." None of them looked convinced and I decided to pretend nothing had happened, saying we should hurry before all the good spots were taken. They didn't mention how I'd just moved on and agreed, breaking into a conversation about how excited they were instead. Even though I joined in, laughing when James told a joke or agreeing with Becky when she'd waffle, nothing could erase the strange feeling in my stomach. I couldn't quite decipher what it was, nervousness, guilt for lying about not liking Alex maybe, perhaps just pure excitement from seeing Billie. Whatever it was, it settled deep in my stomach and didn't go away, even as the others joined us at the spot we'd found. In fact, it only worsened when Alex landed beside me, whispering that the next challenge was to sing louder than the other, his hand resting ever so slightly on my shoulder. This would be a long night. My throat ached, begging for the relief I refused to give it as my voice croaked out the lyrics to bellyache like I'd be shot if I didn't. Alex gripped tightly at my wrists, both of us jumping up and down like idiots. I could hear Mia behind me, most likely on Will's shoulder and somewhere in front of me, George was laughing at Becky and James' awful slightly drunk dance moves, Aria most definitely recording to laugh at when they had sobered up. The rest of the world didn't matter at that moment and I pulled my wrists away from Alex's wrist to hold his face, laughing at his expression when I squeezed it. The song came to an end, turning into only loud cheering and instrumental as I croaked out that he looked extremely stupid. He pouted more and I laughed more, a slight snort coming out. The vibe of the audience changed when Billie sat down, announcing she'd be singing an oldie. Everyone got even more excited and couples linked together like magnets, arms around necks and eyes on eyes. I rolled my eyes at the gross displays of affection, letting my hands drop to rest on his shoulders. The first chord of the song played and I felt both of our bodies freeze, my throat becoming suddenly sore. Oh. It was that song. Of course, it was. Everyone else was too occupied to notice how we both stopped singing, how I opened and closed my mouth a few times before deciding to keep it shut. Except, of course, Alex and his stupidly perfect blue eyes, squarely focused on my own. "Al, we need to talk." No, we didn't, why did I say that. Shut up. "Okay." Great, no going back now. That'd make it worse. I cleared my throat. "You don't remember this but I can't pretend it didn't happen anymore. There was one night awhile ago, we were both very drunk. We had a moment and kissed. Everyone actually thought we were dating for ages." "Wait you remember that?" I nodded, swallowing harshly. If anyone had asked why my throat was suddenly dry and closing in, I'd have blamed hayfever. That would have been a lie. "N/n, I've been waiting for you to talk about it for ages. I thought you'd forgotten." My heart stopped, mind still doing cartwheels to try process the pure idiocy that was currently radiating off of both of us. Billie hit the chorus at the same time Alex leaned down ever so slightly, lips just grazing against mine for a moment as if testing the waters. I didn't hesitate to press my lips back against his, more full of emotion and present, saying everything my lack of worlds could never. I could hear the crowd cheering and clapping, the song ending, our friends whooping, but all I focused on was my heartbeat pounding out of my chest, his heartbeat against mine. When I finally pulled back, my eyes remaining closed for an extra beat to process what just happened, I saw him smile. Some people liked to say blue eyes were overrated and I used to find myself agreeing with them. Why so many love songs about boring old blue eyes, the most common eye colour, and not the mysterious browns and mesmerizing green? But at that moment, I understood. It felt like I'd seen him again for the first time but also met eyes with someone I'd known forever at the same time. A mixture of nostalgic warmth and crazed excitement wrapped into a crystalline package. Ocean eyes. And I understood. Mia threw her arm around my neck and yelled that this was our song, swinging me around. I chuckled, pulling her in closer by the waist and allowing her to tug me away. Alex didn't mind, turning around to talk, or rather shout, at Will, cheeks slightly tinted and a certain buzz in the way he laughed that wasn't there ever before. Pretty. "So," he said, arm around my shoulder and Ferris wheel slowly reaching the top. "What do you think about telling our friends we actually are dating this time?" I shrugged, nuzzling closer to the soft fabric of the hoodie he'd thrown on, probably leaving flecks of glitter that would never go away. He wouldn't care. He never cared about stuff like that. In fact, I think he had the right face for makeup. Maybe he'd let me do his makeup if I asked for a video, a festival look and q+a wrapped into one. The smell of cotton candy wafted up from above and somewhere below, I could just about hear Becky screaming on some ride. "They can figure it out themselves. Probably already have knowing our friends. Same with the fans honestly. Alex didn't answer, rubbing circles on my arm with his thumb instead. My body let out a shaky happy sigh. "Look, we're at the top now. Stopped for just a moment too." I peeked one eye open and smiled at the pretty sight before us, the lights of the rides mixing with phone flashlights and distant concert stages, smells of food stands, drink, weed, the sound of faint music, screams, laughter, happy yelling. Of course, the prettiest sight to me was the shimmering stars high above us, our interlocked hands resting on his chest. As I heard Becky let out another shriek, I was reminded of something from earlier that weekend and smile cheekily, sitting up to properly look at my boyfriend. God that felt to think without it being imaginary. "You know, technically you stopped singing before me which means you lost our game." "That sounds fair to me. So, whats my challenge then?" I pretended to think, finger tapping my chin as if I didn't already know exactly what I was going to say. "You have to be the one to tell Becky shes staying with George tonight because you're staying with me." He raised his eyebrow and turned a bright shade of red. I only smiled wider. "You lost the game, Al, those were the rules." "I haven't lost anything actually, I'd say I won a lot today," he held our interlocked hands up. And, if I wasn't so very in love with him, I would have puked. Because I was, I just rolled my eyes and made him promise to not back out. He insisted he wouldn't and walked straight over to Becky the second we were off the ride. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't just a bit more embarrassed than him suddenly when Becky gasped and grabbed my arm, giving it a slight shake and congratulating me on moving from big fat crush to a big fat relationship. The next Sunday, new pictures dotted my bedroom wall and my Instagram feed. There was a few that overlapped, a group shot by the pier, picture of me and the girls all on a ride, Becky laughing so hard alcohol shot out of her nose, me and Will recreating the same photo we did every year, but most were only on my wall. Me and George taking a shot at the same time, arms interlocked, James watching on with pride. Aria and a random stranger who happened to be wearing the same shoe hugging. Me and Mia in our outfits, laughing so hard we cried or spilling drinks on ourselves. A lot of Will and me simply existing together, whether it be dancing or screaming on a ride. Strangers I found interesting. But most were of Alex. A shot someone snapped when we were on the Ferris wheel. Selfies from just about every location at the festival. And of course, my personal favourite, the one James took on the bus on our way home, when this time when he applied my lipstick, I immediately ruined it with a kiss that told our friends everything they needed to know. When I sat down by the edge of my bed to admire my handiwork, years of photos mixing and telling a story, Alex grunted slightly and woke up from his sleep. He sleepily asked if I'd like to make brownies in a bit before pressing a kiss to my cheek, resting his head on my shoulder. His shampoo filled my nose and the soft material of his jumper pressed against my skin. God, I was ever so glad I understood why there were so many songs about blue eyes.

[buckyshenley16]

The Tales Of The Winter Soldeir and Winter Witch

Book1, Chapter 1

3 Years before Bucky was drafted

February 5th, 1940

Ramona’s POV

Putting my stacks of paperwork on my desk ready for tomorrow as my work day comes to an end, I find myself sighing in relief after a long day of again getting nowhere with the ‘Jeweler Case.’ It seems to be a never-ending case as this is our second week trying to solve the jewelry store robbery and who did what and when, why, and so on.

“Lover boy is on the phone Ramona.” Peggy gloats with a smug grin on her face purposely making sure the speaker was not covered.

“Like I’ve told you almost a hundred times Carter, he is not my lover boy.” I exclaim emphasizing the word ‘not’ with an eye roll and taking the phone off her. “Why hello Buck, what would you be calling to ask the 3rd time today?” I ask with a slight chuckle whilst throwing a rubber at Peggy who is winking at me.

“Just checking before I leave to walk you home doll, did you bring a jacket today? It’s freezing outside and I can see your jacket still hung up, would hate for ya to catch a cold especially when you live with someone with an immune system like Steve.” Bucky says, his Brooklyn drawl being clearer than ever.

“You know, I do have more than one coat Buck?” I ask. “Just checking Mona, I didn’t walk you today so I didn’t see what you left in. Just seen what you woke up in or should I say what you didn’t wake up in.” Bucky asks with a hint of flirting and a hint of cockiness in his voice.

“Yes, and if you carry on with your Mr, big ego act that’ll be the last time you see that, Barnes.” I retort.

“Okay we both know that’s not the truth. Anyway, I’m bouta leave doll, will be there in half an hour, will wait in the usual spot.”

“Not true but okay, see you soon Buck” I say trying not to drop the phone from between my ear and shoulder whilst locking my cabinets. “See you soon, darlin'.” Bucky finishes before putting the phone down.

Bucky and I had known each other since being 6 and 9 being introduced by our friend Steve. Steve had been like a big brother growing up, Sarah being nothing but welcoming to my family when we fled to Brooklyn from Russia. Sarah and my mother would both take turns between childcare; me, my three younger sisters and brother being at the Rogers’ every Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday and half the day Sunday whilst mother would go to work at the laundry where Sarah also worked.

And obviously Steve would be at our house every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Every Sunday we would have dinner at the Rogers’ with our mother. Our father stayed in Russia with mother wanting to flee a situation I wasn’t told about until I was old enough to understand. Father was abusive and an alcoholic and had a job mother didn’t agree with, but we were never told what that job entailed and whilst I found myself wondering every so often, curiosity never killed the cat and I was enormously proud of that.

Bucky, Steve, and I were best friends growing up with Bucky and Steve being stupidly overprotective of me even when I became a fully trained agent and officially full time at SSR. My mother never 100% agreed with my job and whilst Bucky and Steve questioned it at first for my safety, but once they realised I could handle myself (after witnessing me defend myself against a couple of not so nice men who got a bit too close for my comfort) they were 100% supportive of my job, especially Bucky with one less person to save from the allies and one more person to help when Steve found himself on the not so nice ends of the alleys face first into the trash cans.

It was around 18 years old I'd started developing feelings for Bucky, not that I’d never admit it to him, I was far too proud and full of denial for that because he would never go for a girl like myself; at least that’s what I thought until I found myself intertwined in his sheets with his body wrapped around mine after one passionate, unexpected night a year later.

This went from happening every few weeks, to every two weeks, to maybe once a week to every few nights and I’m still in denial that he would ever want to make things official.

I question whether I want to become his girl, especially with my line of work and seeing my parent’s relationship be the bane of their lives when I was younger. All I’ve ever seen is relationships fail and that is why I refuse to put myself through the pain of one. I care about Bucky, he’s the one person who no matter how rotten the day be I’m guaranteed to have a smile on my face when I see him.

When Sarah died both mine and Bucky's families became close ensuring two big family units to support Steve and even a year and a half after she passed; me, Bucky and Steve got a shared apartment together. Sure, it was no five stars, but it was home and as long as the three of us had each other that was all that mattered. Steve was aware of mine and Bucky's “situation” but chose not to get involved.

Stuck in my own little world I'd not realised half an hour had passed and Bucky would be waiting for me so after grabbing my coat and bag I made sure to say bye to Peggy and arrange coffee and breakfast before work tomorrow morning where we could discuss some of the cases privately, seen as though we knew we were massively undermined at SSR we got a lot of thinking and solving done mostly when we were alone together where no male could underestimate or interrupt us.

Walking down out of the doors I spotted Bucky with a glowing grin on his face, it took everything to keep my footing steady. “Hello, beautiful. How would you feel about hot chocolate and dinner on me at our spot?” Bucky asked holding his arm out to me which I gladly took.

“Gee buck, almost sounds like you’re asking me on a date!” I tease earning a nudge to my side causing a fit of laughter.

“One day doll, I’ve already asked several times but one day I will get a yes out of ya.” Bucky retorted.

“I’ll hold you to that Buck, how was your day?” I asked clinging to his arm.

“The usual, woke up to a fine dame next to me, crappy coffee, got to work. Left work, pulled Steve out of an ally, nagged Steve how he’s not ten men and should think before he acts, walked the little punk back to the apartment, read the paper and now I'm here to pick up you. How bout you doll?” Bucky explains with a hint of sarcasm.

“Same old, really strugglin’ with this case I just can’t seem to understand how a whole jewelry store could be robbed without even a fingerprint left behind nor how someone could even get a hold of that damn gas. How many men was it today? Did you or Steve get hurt?” you ask with a sigh giving Bucky's arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey Mona, don’t worry too much about it, we both know you’ll get to the bottom of it like always and I’m sure whoever’s guilty will regret it when they have to face the bottom of your shoe. Two guys, managed to reason with them after giving one a right hook.” he winked.

“Oh, I know I will, thanks Buck I can always rely on you for some good old confidence boosting. I give up telling the jackass he’s gotta stop this, I may as well be talking to a brick wall!” I finish with a chuckle. As we walk into the bright, retro diner Bucky holds the door open for me before guiding us both to a booth. As we take our coats off a waitress comes to us.

“Well would ya look who it is, only our two favorites! Where’s Rogers tonight?” Our waitress Nancy asks.

“Probably at home bathing his black eye, sulking about his fight whilst planning his next one.” I exclaim earning a laugh from both Bucky and Nancy.

“I don’t even gotta ask, usual for you two?” Nancy asks pointing between us both with her pen.

“Of course!” Bucky says with a grin

“That’s two hot chocolates and a portion of fries coming up!” Nancy exclaims.

“Thanks, Nance!” we both call.

Me, Bucky and Steve have been coming to this diner since we were in school. Their hot chocolates were practically the glue to our friendships. As I looked up from my hands, I spotted Bucky looking at me with a smile on his face. “What’s got you all smiley?” I ask with a grin.

“Just you!” Bucky exclaims grin turning wider.

“Are you purposely trying to make me blush?” I ask with a chuckle feeling warmth go to my face praying my blusher somewhat cancels the blushing.

“Always doll, I just like to make ya blush and to know I’ve still got it.” Bucky explains with a cocky smirk. Damn you and your godly smile Barnes!

“Glad my embarrassment gives you an even bigger ego boost Buck!” I laugh before our food and drinks get set down and we start tucking in.

*An hour later, on the way home from diner*

“Thank you for that Buck, it was fun. Was nice to be sat anywhere but that office.” I explain.

“S’alright doll, anything to put a smile on your face. I wanted to actually talk to you. This, us been goin' on a little while too long now.” Bucky stopped walking and turned me to face him taking both my hands in his.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” I ask feeling my heart rip into two.

“Yeah, doll.” he grins.

“Oh okay, no I totally get it Buck we’re kinda not going anywhere and I’m really not ready to put myself into a relationship right now and you wanna move on or you’ve already found a girl. I get it, no hard feelings.” I say holding back the tears.

“Woah doll, no no! You’re completely taking it the wrong way. Mona, I like you, scratch that I’m crazy bout you. I understand you don’t wanna take this further just yet, but I can wait,” he says cupping my face in his hands looking into my eyes.

“Buck, I appreciate that so much but there’s so many better girls throwing themselves at you and you’re going to waste them just to wait for me? I could make you wait years and I wouldn’t want that.” I explain placing my hands over his.

“I don’t want them other girls, I want you. You’re the most beautiful, loyal, caring, and bad ass girl I’ve ever met. I will wait as long as you want me to if it means I can have you. Just please tell me you feel the same.” he begs his eyes searching my face for any sign of feeling the same.

“I do Buck, I have for a while.” I admit a small smile making its way to my lips. Bucky gently strokes his thumb across my bottom lip before pulling me in for a sweet, loving kiss. It was suddenly like it was just the pair of us that existed, nobody mattering in that moment but us two. Bucky pulled away keeping his hands on my face, placing his forehead against mine. “I got you, doll” he says before pulling me into his chest resting his chin on my head, wrapping his arms around my shoulders tightly; sighing contently.

“I got you too, Buck.” I reply wrapping my arms around his waist and smiling contently to myself.

“Let’s get home to the punk before he can’t help but lead himself to another alley huh.” Bucky says whilst linking our arms together and directing us both out of the park.

“We should probably check the alleys on our way back Buck.” I suggest

“Glad we're on the same page doll.” Bucky chuckles.

So, It’s the first of many chapters🤩 I’m so so excited!! Just wanted to give a shout out to @i-write-bucky and @jbarness for proof reading this for me!! Angels🤩❤️

[ultsoobins]

5 types of kisses - CBG

requested:

Hello! I really like your writing and your 5 types of kisses scenarios are incredibly cute. So I wanted to ask maybe you can write one also for Beomgyu? I'm really soft for this boy but I can't find a lot of things written about him. If you of course have time, bc I saw that you're really busy with collage 💜

5 types of kisses with beomgyu?? i feel like people would request the same for the rest too 😂

hey!! so I’m absolutely in love with your kiss drabble things for Soobin and Yeonjun and i was wondering if you could do the same for Beomgyu? LOVE your blog so much!!! ❤️❤️❤️

Hi I love your writing! It’s very well written! I reread a bunch lol can I request a scenario with beomgyu and a sick s/o?

notes:

same as yeonjun and soobin!!! 5 types of kisses... i had to get creative with body parts though (not in like... a weird way)... and i feel like these are kind of short but i naturally got to the point faster in these that i have before, and i try to keep my writing more or less natural, you know? his first kiss scene is my favorite i’ve written so far though

summary:

beomgyu and five times (and five ways) he kisses you

wrist kisses

you sit across from your boyfriend, eyes wide open as you try to beat him in a staring contest. he widens his eyes almost comically, and it takes all of your willpower not to laugh, knowing that you’ll close your eyes if you do so. just as you can feel him faltering, beomgyu’s hand comes out of nowhere at the speed of light, making a finger heart right in front of your eyes. 

you’re so taken aback, you blink as you try to regain your bearings. immediately, beomgyu starts cheering. it takes you longer to register your loss, and once you do, you pout. 

“that’s cheating!” you furrow your brows, throwing your best glare at him.

it just makes him laugh louder. 

“your nose scrunches when you do that, you know? you look like an angry kitten.”

you scrunch your nose as an automatic response to this, making beomgyu smile harder. he reaches up, tucking your hair behind one year. 

“you’re so cute.” his eyes are sparkling as he says this, and you can feel a smile spreading across your face involuntarily. nonetheless, you shake your head. 

“dummy.” you grin as you say this, and it’s beomgyu’s turn to scrunch his nose in mock offense. 

“who are you calling dummy, dummy?”

you flick his forehead gently in response, and he flicks you back on instinct, resting his hand on your cheek afterwards rather than letting it drop back in his lap.   

you put your hand on his as well, mirroring him as a joke. beomgyu smiles gently at this, and grabs your wrist with his other hand. he turns his face into your palm, pressing his lips lightly to the inside of your wrist once, twice, thrice - feather light. 

you can’t help the blush that spreads across your cheeks, pressing your face into the hand that’s on your cheek to hide while you regain your composure. beomgyu aww’s at this, finding your actions absolutely adorable. 

once you emerge from his hand, he smirks before widening his eyes comically, causing you to laugh. 

“let’s go again!” he says, referring to another staring contest. “loser buys on our next date.”   

knee kisses

beomgyu clucks his tongue at you once, sticking out his tongue in concentration as he gently squirts neosporin onto your knee. you wince at how cold it feels, taking a second to recover. 

“what have i told you about watching where you’re going?” he sighs. your boyfriend turns slightly to rummage through the first aid kid beside him, looking for a big enough band-aid to cover your scrape. 

“that it’s a thing i have to do.” you respond just as he triumphantly pulls a band-aid that’s almost as big as your palm out. 

“this should do it,” he says, waving it in front of you. “and yeah. it is, in fact, a thing you need to do.”

you smile, watching as he gently places the band-aid on your knee, smoothing down the edges to make sure that it stays on. he then pulls a roll of gauze from the kit. “this is just to make sure that the band-aid stays on.” he explains, even though you know and he knows that you know. beomgyu’s always had a habit of saying every step of the things he does out loud - it’s one of the most endearing things about him. 

you stretch your leg out slightly to make wrapping gauze around it easier, doing your best to ignore the pangs of pain you feel as you do. beomgyu wraps it quickly, well-trained in the art of wrapping joints with gauze from years of dancing. 

“there,” he smiles at you once he’s done. “good as new.” 

“thanks, beom. you’re a godsend.” you give him a small smile back. you move to get up, but before you can, beomgyu stops you with a hand on your calf. 

“wait.” he says, and you sigh exaggeratedly, listening nonetheless. he leans down and presses two soft kisses to your knee - one right above it, and one on top over the gauze. 

“i think it’ll heal faster now,” he says before throwing you a wink and a dazzling smile.

you can’t help but agree with him. 

top of the head kisses

the force of your coughing propels you forward, making you sit up and hunch over immediately as you hack your lungs out. you reach over to your side table, feeling around for the water bottle because turning would hurt your aching body too much. 

the water bottle finds you before you find it.

your fingers wrap around the plastic like its a lifeline, and you’re grateful that the cap has been taken off for you as you lift it to your lips. once you’re done drinking, you tilt your head to see your - mildly concerned - boyfriend looking down at you, hand outstretched to take the bottle back from you. 

“do you need anything?” beomgyu asks, placing the bottle down and moving to run a hand through your hair reassuringly. you automatically lean into his touch.

“hugs?” you implore, looking up at him with your best puppy-dog eyes. before he can respond, however, you scrunch up your face, sneezing into your sleeve not a second later.  

beomgyu shakes his head adoringly at you before reaching down to wrap his arms around you. 

“yeonjun dropped off some soup earlier. do you want it?”

you contemplate his proposal for a moment, pausing your thoughts to reach over and get a tissue from the box on your nightstand. after you blow your nose heartily, you wriggle around and adjust yourself so you can see beomgyu’s face.

“is it the one with noodles?”

beomgyu nods, his lips upturning. “i can bring you a bowl in bed.”

“you’re the best.” you smile up at him, your voice raspy from the coughing you’ve been doing. 

“you know i am.” beomgyu grins, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. 

“love you!” you rasp as he walks out to get you your lunch. 

“i love you too, but if you get me sick...” beomgyu trails off, shooting you a wink to show you that he isn’t serious. you roll your eyes at him before succumbing to another coughing fit. 

“try not to die before i get back!” beomgyu calls from the kitchen. you sigh.

“no promises.” 

first kiss

you shove your kickstand down with your foot, standing your bike next to beomgyu’s. he’s already a few feet ahead of you, staring out at the city. 

it’s breathtaking in the night, with the buildings’ lights sparkling and the stars shining against the black backdrop of the sky and how everything looks as if its in miniature. you can see the cars moving around like splashes of ink against roads that seem like they’re cut from paper, but it’s all too far away for you to here it. 

it’s quiet up at the overlook. it makes you feel like you’re watching your world in slow motion. beomgyu himself is silent, completely unlike his normal self. something about how serene the scene you both are at makes him a quieter version of himself, though not a less energetic one. rather than seeing his excitement, you can almost feel it in the air. 

nothing is more intangibly tangible than the feeling of wonder. 

before you know what you’re doing, you walk up beside him, taking his hand in yours easily. you flash him a smile that he returns with equal brilliance. you squeeze his hand in response. 

you don’t want to break the silence, but you’re the first to speak regardless. 

“it’s beautiful.” you breathe, even though you know - and beomgyu knows - that you’re severely understating what you feel. a light wind blows around you, pushing your hair away from your face. beomgyu tucks the most awry strands behind your ears.

“it is,” your boyfriend agrees. “but it isn’t the most breathtaking thing i’ve ever seen.”

“hm?” you question as you turn your head, only to see him staring down at you more intensely than you’d expected. you turn scarlet as you realize what he’s planning on following his statement with. 

“are you seriously about to say that i’m the most breathtaking thing you’ve ever seen? that’s so cliche!” you say, swaying slightly to knock your shoulder against his as a playful reprimand to hide how hard you’re blushing. beomgyu chuckles, gently pushing your shoulder back with his in response. 

suddenly, he tugs on your hand, pulling you into his chest with it. his heart is beating as fast as you know yours is. 

“you know me too well.” he says softer than usual as he smiles down at you. you don’t respond, instead moving his hand to rest against his collarbone. 

his expression changes, becoming more serious than before. “i -”

“kiss me already, will you? it’ll make up for the cliche you almost used.” you say, unsure of where all of your confidence is coming from but knowing that most of it is borne from nervousness. for a second that feels like millennia, you’re afraid that you were too forward. before you can draw away from beomgyu, however, he leans in to press his lips to yours. 

as he pulls back slightly - though staying close enough to keep you in his arms - he glances out at the city below you both. you look too, wondering, for a moment, how you got so lucky. 

“it’s at night on an overlook above the city, with the wind blowing just right and the environment just perfect, and we just had our first kiss,” beomgyu says after a while, right before he presses his lips to the crown of your head. 

“how’s that for cliche?” 

making out i guess

the scrabble board is long-forgotten, which is probably for the best considering that you absolutely cannot string together a word under the current situation. 

the current situation, of course, being beomgyu’s lips on yours. 

just as you think you’re about to get a reprieve from how intoxicating his kisses are, he nips gently against your bottom lip, sending your mind reeling in the process. you automatically lean into him.

has he always tasted like cherries, or are you making that up? you aren’t sure. 

you pull away first, mentally cursing the need for air. beomgyu laughs, high-pitched and rushed, once you separate - partly because of how red your lips are, but mostly out of amazement. 

you lean back in, tracing his jaw with light, chaste kisses as he props himself up on the floor by bracing his hands against it. once you draw away, beomgyu allows himself to run his fingers through your hair. 

“you aren’t half bad at that.” one corner of his mouth upturns in a teasing smirk. you roll your eyes, gently slapping his chest in response.

“shut up.” you grumble, your smile giving away your true feelings. your eyes flit to the discarded game beside you. “who won?” you ask. 

beomgyu follows your gaze and squints slightly, mentally counting up the points. he looks back at you. “technically you, but...”

“but?”

“...but i get to call you mine, so i’m the real winner anyways.”

it takes you a beat, two beats to process his words. once you do, you can’t help but shove him gently, trying your best to ignore both the blush and the smile that are spreading across your face. beomgyu wraps his arms around you as you respond.  

“choi beomgyu, what did i tell you about cliches?”

“that they’re worn out, unlike my love for you.” 

you sigh, pulling away for a moment to look up at your boyfriend’s teasing face. you press a kiss to his cheek. 

“you’re lucky you’re cute.”

[cherry-holland]

Dmitri Island - ch 2

(Moodboard done by the lovely @sandersonosterfield ✨)

A/n: hello everyone!! Here’s the next chapter to this lovely series!!! It’s a bit of a filler, but who doesn’t love a slow burn? 😏🥰 also I apologize for how long this is it’s suuuper long but it’s necessary! Promise 👌🏽

Warnings: just a whole lotta fluff, mutual (but not known) pining, and a twinge of jealousy 😏

✨

[[MORE]]

To say that the next week before the trip flew by was an understatement. It seemed like the work week went with the snap of a finger, and everyone was buzzing about the opportunity to get away. The group chat that consisted of you, Harry, Sam, Tuwaine, Harrison, and Tom had the same several messages on rotation.

How many days do we have left again?

Can’t wait to work on my tan 👌🏽

😎🌊🌴

It was as if every time you heard your phone buzz, the boys were talking about their plans for this island getaway. A lot of it consisted of how they all were going to get laid, which was quite an annoying conversation to be a part of, considering Harry and Tuwaine were egging Tom on finding a fit girl for the week.

Every time you saw the texts transpired about this topic, it made your blood boil. The whole idea of a vacation was to relax, not for hookups. But of course, the boys had other plans, plans of which included bringing Tom in on their shenanigans. You knew that getting this upset over the thought of Tom holding another girl close, hands trailing up and down her body, leaving open-mouthed kisses up and down her body... ugh, it made you positively shudder. Because you so desperately wanted that to be you, but you kept your feelings to yourself.

The day before travel day, everyone agreed staying at Tom and Harrison’s was the best idea. It made it easier for everyone - no one had to wake up super early to commute in that damned London traffic, everyone could ride together, and they had the most rooms out of everyone’s apartments. It was a win-win.

“Do you guys only eat pizza when I’m not here, or do any of you actually cook?” You asked as you opened the door to the boys’ apartment. You walked in and immediately saw three brown pizza boxes on the kitchen counter, two of which had already been emptied prior to your arrival.

“Well, y/n/n, we weren’t gonna actually cook anything the night before we leave for Dmitri Island! That would be silly,” Harrison greeted you, exiting the kitchen whilst polishing off his recent slice.

He walked over to you and leaned in to give you a hug and a messy kiss on your cheek, which made you giggle. “Ugh, Haz, you gave me a greasy pizza kiss! That’s gross!”

“Mhm, that’s what you get for arriving late, love,” Harrison laughed as he kept an arm slung around you.

Harrison and you always had a very brother/sister dynamic right from the get-go. After being introduced to him by Tom, you found out that you both had a lot in common, and even pulled a “Step Brothers” moment. It was like having a younger brother with Harrison. He was a hard-ass and a little shit, but was always such an amazing confidant. He was your go-to guy (if Tom wasn’t around) when it came to anything: work-related problems, friend issues, and even guys. Always playful, always there.

Tom had walked in on you and Harrison greeting one another, and for some reason he felt this heart drop at the sight. You and Harrison were normally affectionate, definitely platonically, but it stirred something inside of him. Seeing you in your work clothes - the way the black and white pea coat was slightly opened to reveal those high-waisted black, tailored dress pants you loved, a tight beige mock neck sweater hugging your curves, black belt with a gold buckle holding it all together - and that damn greasy kiss planted on your cheek made Tom’s jaw tighten. And he had no idea why this was affecting him so much.

Just pull it together, Holland.

“Well, Haz, y/n has a real big girl job that she actually has to commute to. Not like some of us,” Tom teased as he leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen.

Your head snapped around when you heard his voice, and you swore you let out a small gasp. He looked damn good. With his tight black v-neck that nearly skimmed the top of his very lowly-slung light grey joggers, so low that you could nearly see the white band of his Calvin’s peeking out, and his disheveled dark brown curls looking as soft as ever, it was enough to turn you into a pile of mush.

You shook the thoughts that were slowly starting to accumulate out of your head as you broke into a smile. “That’s right, Tommy. I do have a big girl job. We can’t all be actors now.”

“Yes, you know what they say. Those that can’t act land corporate jobs,” Tom teased with a wink, and you felt your knees get a little bit weak at the gesture as you walked over to give him a hug.

You felt his arms snake around your entire body as you reached up to his neck to hug him, his fingers drawing small little circles as you squeezed him tighter. You took in his warm, woodsy scent as he breathed in your woodsy floral notes of your perfume, a smile gracing both of your lips. You two stayed like that for a good five seconds before Harrison coughed. “Alright, you two leave some of the hugging for the rest of us, now.”

You and Tom broke apart quickly, light tinges of pink gracing both of your faces. You rolled your eyes as you messed up Harrison’s hair. “Whatever, div. Now, where am I staying?”

Harry cleared his throat as he turned his head from the couch where he was currently playing his PS4. “Well, y/n/n, we have some bad news...”

“Oh no, what did you divs do now?” You groaned.

“See, here’s the thing: Tom forgot that he was getting the guest room renovated, something about adding a bath or whatever in there, so our spare room is occupied now,” Tuwaine replied as he entered the room, his face turning away to take whatever reaction he was going to get from you.

“Oh my God, Thomas. You forgot about a major renovation happening in your home, right before we’re to go on vacation?” You turned to face Tom, rolling your eyes.

Tom’s face turned a darker shade of pink, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. “Sorry, darling, it’s hard to keep track of what kind of maintenance is needed or scheduled ‘round here.”

You took in his face for a moment, full of remorse and guilt, and you sighed audibly. “It’s alright, Tommy. Just need to figure out where I’m staying, that’s all.”

“Y/n, you’re more than welcome to take one of our rooms if you want,” Sam offered from the sofa, a small smile gracing his freckled face.

“Or, y/n, why don’t you stay in Tom’s room? He has the biggest bed, and we will not allow you to sleep on the couch. That shit is uncomfortable,” Harrison interjected, a sly grin growing on his chiseled face.

Harrison wasn’t a stranger to you and Tom’s obvious pining for each other. You both haven’t admitted yet to him (to which he has no idea why yet), but he knew you both were liking each other more than just best friends. You two were perfect for each other, so it was hard not to ship you both. He knew you two both would end up together one day for a while, he was just waiting for the opportunity to make it happen. And this was a start.

You ignored Harrison’s stare as you looked around the living room. Those couches were only really good for naps, but full on sleep? Nope, definitely not going to be good. “I don’t mind it really, though,” you lied.

“Y/n, that’s ridiculous. You’re getting my room, darling, no excuses,” Tom shook his head, placing his calloused hand on top of your clothed shoulder. You felt his thumb slowly move up and down, and the butterflies from earlier returned in your stomach. You looked up to see his dark brown eyes pleading at you, sparkling under the warm fluorescent lights of his home.

“Fine, only because you’re making me,” you poked his side, causing a mini fit of giggles to escape from his lips.

“Alright it’s suited then. Y/n, you can have the last of the slices of pizza, then we need to be going to sleep, boys and girl. We have an early morning tomorrow,” Tuwaine spoke, and wit that, the boys left to finish their packing, and Harry to his game.

You and Tom still stood in the kitchen as you went to grab a slice of the pepperoni that was left for you. “Mmm, you know, these are not as good as back home, but I’ll take it.”

“Well, y/n, we don’t have New York pizza here in London, darling. It’s just whatever we can find,” Tom chuckled, giving your arm a slight shove.

“Oh well, London can’t have everything now,” you joked, returning the shove back to him.

“Ah, love, we definitely do. It’s just not New York,” Tom quipped, stealing the slice of pizza from your hands as you were about to take another bite.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that, Holland,” you look at him incredulously as he gives you the most wicked smirk.

Tom hums at your remark. “I would love to see you try, y/l/n.”

Tom’s heart beat is racing with the look you’re giving him. The playfulness behind your frown, the flicker of mischief that flashes across your eyes is enough to send the blood rushing to his head.

Control yourself, Holland.

“Oh just you wait, movie star,” you smirk as you start making a mad dash to Tom’s room, Tom following suit.

After you two nearly chased each other around the apartment, you two were laying at the edge of his California king bed, trying to calm down your ragged breaths from running around. You both were exhausted, but couldn’t move.

“Ugh, I wish someone would just take off my makeup for me, because I’m too damn comfortable right now,” you groaned, rubbing your temples.

“Darling, if you want, I could,” Tom replied, turning his head to face you, those damn dark browns twinkling so brightly.

“Oh, Tom, it’s okay. You do not need to do that, I appreciate it though,” you blushed, sitting up and looking directly at the hardwood floor to cover the heat rising to your face.

“I don’t mind,” Tom assured you, and he walked out of his room for a minute without explanation.

You frowned in confusion at his abrupt movement, when he came back with your sleek, leather suitcase in hand. “Alright, let’s get ready to sleep, y/n/n.”

“Tommy, you really don’t have to do this, you know,” you smiled weakly as you looked between your suitcase and Tom.

“Y/n. Stop being foolish and get your damn makeup wipes out so I can clean your face,” Tom concluded, stretching his hand out.

You rolled your eyes as you opened up your suitcase to find your wipes, handing one to Tom in defeat. He took the wipe from you, and with his other hand, he yanked you off the bed with a chuckle escaping your mouth.

Tom led you to his master bathroom as your pulse began to quicken. Walking into the giant restroom with marble flooring made you realize how intimate this was - Tom was about to take off your makeup. You and Tom were definitely affectionate, maybe more so than you and Harrison, and you definitely had your fair share of cuddle sessions with Tom, but this was a whole new level. And it made you nervous.

“You okay, darling?” Tom turned to look at you as he felt your hand subconsciously squeeze his a little.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking about all of the travel we’re to do tomorrow,” you lied as you looked into his coffee-colored eyes. God they were beautiful eyes.

“Oh, y/n/n, it’ll be okay. It’s only a short drive to the ferry, and then before you know it, we will be in paradise, darling,” Tom comforted. “Now, come on, we need to get this shit off of you and our beauty rest.”

You chortled as you hopped onto the black and white marble counter. Once you were settled, Tom stood in front of your legs. He placed his large left hand on your right cheek as he took the wet wipe in his hand and smeared it across your left cheek. His gentle touch was electrifying against your skin. You couldn’t help but close your eyes at the touch.

Tom was doing all he could to be careful not to hurt you. He knew how to take makeup off, he’s done it so many times that it’s almost second nature to him. But it’s you. And even though this is just taking off makeup, he was being as careful and calculated as he could. He subconsciously started running his thumb along your jaw while working on the left side of your face, and for a second the swore he felt you lean in to the touch, but he quickly shook it off with a blush.

Holland, what the hell are you doing??

Tom swapped hands to start on the right side, and he finished before you even knew it. His touches were as light as a feather, and it nearly put you to sleep for a minute.

“Y/n, you’re all done,” Tom whispered as you fluttered your eyes open.

Once you did, you saw how close he was to you. Like it was so close that you could feel his warm breath dance along your lips. So close that you saw the many freckles that were scattered all along his nose, and boy were you tempted to reach out and touch them. You smelled peppermint wafting into your nose as his breaths started slowly to become more ragged. You followed his gaze to your lips, and you felt your face grow hot.

“Thank you,” you stammered, pulling away slightly to hide, yet again, another blush, and exiting the bathroom.

“You’re welcome, love,” Tom breathed, redness encompassing his face.

He followed you back into his room, walking to his chestnut brown drawers to pull out pajamas. Once he found pj’s, he went into his linen closet that was conveniently placed by his bathroom door and reached for a blanket and some extra pillows.

You watched the action in confusion. “Thomas, why are you grabbing those for?”

“Because you’re gonna be sleeping here. I’ll take the couch so you can have room,” Tom explained with a shrug.

“Nonsense, Tommy. You don’t need to do that,” you concluded. “Your bed is legit the size of the Atlantic Ocean, it’ll be okay. Also, it’s not as if we haven’t fallen asleep next to each other before.”

“Yeah, but that’s always when we all have our movie nights,” Tom cautioned, his eyebrows raising curiously. “Are you sure?”

You nodded your head as you took out your pajamas (really, it was just some old jogger sweatpants and one of Tom’s old t-shirts he gave to you a while back) from your own suitcase. “Yes, you idiot, now I’ll go change in the bathroom while you change here, and we can finally get that much needed beauty rest.”

Tom smiled, his face softening at the sound of your words. “Alright, darling. I’ll be here!”

You returned the grin as you shut the bathroom door to change, your stomach nearly dropping at the remark.

Holy shit, you’re about to sleep in the same bed as your best friend... your crush.

Pull it together, y/l/n!

Once you were in pajamas, you swung open the door to see Tom already laying in bed, his phone casting an illumination on his face. He was shirtless, which brought that same heat to your cheeks again, and you saw a peek of his dark grey joggers from under the covers. His hair was much more disheveled than it was when you first arrived, but he still looked ravishing.

Stop lusting over your best friend, y/l/n! Act normal!

Tom felt eyes on him as he looked up to see you staring at him. “Hmm do I have something on my face, darling?”

“Oh, no, sorry,” you mumbled, “just tired is all.”

Tom felt his heart go to mush when you yawned, stretching your arms high above your head. He always thought you were cute when you were sleepy, with you constantly rubbing your eyes, and your hair being slightly messy from you fussing around with it. Whenever you would come over in the evenings after work, you would always get like this, and your cuddliness made Tom’s heart increase in size.

“Come on, love. Let’s get some rest,” Tom beckoned, tapping the left side of the huge bed.

You padded over to the crisp, white bedding and slid in with a sigh. You didn’t realize how tired you were until you sunk yourself deeper into Tom’s sheets, a deep yawn escaping your lips.

You felt Tom shift beside you, and turned to see him looking at you with a puzzled look on his face. “Is that my shirt?”

You looked down at the black scoop neck tee you were wearing with a lazy but embarrassed smile. “Yeah, remember? When I spilled the tomato soup that your mom made all over my white blouse, and you gave me this top so I wouldn’t have red stains all over me?”

Tom laughed loudly at the memory, shaking his head. “Oh yeah. Still can’t believe you managed to dump an entire spoonful of tomato soup onto your shirt while you were serving it for yourself.”

“Oh hush, Holland,” you shoved him in between laughs.

The two of you were so tired at this point, that you both were doubled over in laughter. It took a good five minutes before you finally took control over your breathing, letting out a sigh. Tom followed suit, and looked over at you with the goofiest grin on his face. “Ah, y/n, you’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

You turn your body towards him and gave a lazy smile in response. “Yep. And you love it.”

Tom hummed as he arched an eyebrow. “Okay, sure, Jan...”

“Holland, don’t use a meme on me right now,” you chuckled, giving him a light slap on his right shoulder. “Now let’s get some sleep before I pass out right now.”

“Whatever, y/l/n,” Tom teased as he pulled the covers up over his body.

You slid down into the sheets, not really knowing what much to do besides turn on your left side, having the covers tucked under your right arm. This was such a weird feeling. You sleeping in the same bed as Tom. Your best friend. You never thought you would be in this position, and the many times you had dreamed about it, it definitely was not because of the lack of rooms in the home.

“Y/n?” Tom whispered from behind you.

“Yeah, Tommy?” You asked, turning your body to face him.

“Can we... cuddle? I’m really cold right now,” Tom mumbled, heat rising to his cheeks.

You felt your own face grow hot at his words. “You, cold? That’s impossible,” you teased. “But yeah, I don’t mind.”

Tom grinned sleepily at your response as he pulled you close to his body, and you nearly gasped at the abrupt action. You quickly nuzzled into his neck, with your head resting on his chest and his left arm slung around your body. Your right arm was laying across his bare torso, your forearm grazing the sculpted abs that graced his beautiful body. Your legs were intertwined with his so naturally, it was as if it were normal.

“Goodnight, y/n,” Tom yawned, a sleepy smile growing on his face.

“Night, Tommy,” you muttered into his neck, immediately dozing off in Tom’s safe arms.

tag list: @jillanaholland

[avelera]

*emerges from their grace* a chubby Newt that stress eats???? Also hi it's been a while :v

aaaah, babe it’s been too long!! Thank you for the prompt!

This one’s gonna combine a few Anon prompts too including: 

Chubby Newt never manages to lose his lovehandles even in the middle of the war, his eating habits aren’t always the best and there’s always junk food wrappers in his room but he’s always comfortable and soft and friend-shaped.

&Newton’s one of those kids that stacked on the puppy fat as a teenager but assumed he’d grow more and even out but he just… didn’t? Like, he’s taller than he was which is nice but he’s also still got chipmunk cheeks and a few stretch marks on his thighs and for all his talk of being a “rock star” he can actually be quite sensitive about these things, especially when it comes to being intimate with someone (he’s had a few bad experiences). But he’s still got a rockin bod! 

And mostly:

sickfic type thing with (a lil chubby) newt who ate too much and hermann taking care of him—

On the Risks (and Benefits) of Stress Eating

Also available on Ao3

Words: 2,682 (I knooow)

Ship:Newt/Hermann

Timeline: Shatterdome era

Man I just remembered I was thinking of tying my SFW Shatterdome era prompt combo one into the tattoo prompt but then sickfic took over. OH WELL. I’ll get to that one soon cuz it’s amazing.

This ficlet is proooobably gonna lead into my NSFW prompt combo, just FYI ;3

—-

“Newton, maybe you should slow down?”

Newt grunted in acknowledgement of Hermann’s point, whatever it was, and went back to summarily ignoring it. The LiDAR mapping of the latest Kaiju attack had just come in and he needed to square them with the video as well since there was almost zero chance he’d get any live samples from this one. He’d have to make do without. He crunched on another potato chip without tasting it and when the bag was empty tossed it on the ground with the pile of others. His brain hummed, streamlined and focused from taking his medication twice today and if he stayed focused he could ride this wave to getting a week’s worth of work done in an evening. And if he could manage just a few, oh, thousand more nights like that then maybe they’d have a shot at winning this war.

“…Newton, that’s your fifth bag of junk food, this is getting obscene. At least let me fetch you a meal from the cafeteria before it closes? Perhaps something with a vitamin buried in it somewhere?”

“No thanks,” Newt muttered. Could the guy not see he was busy? Cafeteria food meant knife and fork which meant freeing up his hands which meant breaking his concentration and he was on a roll. Achieving this level of focus was a once in a blue moon thing for him, usually he needed to bounce between three projects to finish any and sure, that meant three projects got done in the time it took most people to do one, but he wasn’t going to stop now when hyperfixation was helping him out for once. Just to make the point he blindly reached over and grabbed another bag of snacks, tearing it open with his teeth and burying his hand inside to stuff his mouth full before returning his hands to the keyboard.

“… Newton, I…”

Newt snarled and spun in his chair. “What is it, Hermann? Can’t you see I’m working, or at least I’m trying to if you wouldn’t interrupt every five minutes?!”

Hermann recoiled, his hand snatching back from where it had presumably hovered at Newt’s shoulder. He drew himself up, expression growing pinched and severe. His suit jacket was tossed over one arm and he gripped his cane hard in the other hand. “It’s been three hours since I last interrupted you and before that it was another two. I only interrupted this time to tell you I’m retiring for the evening, so do remember to switch the lights off this time,” he said stiffly.

Newt blinked then his eyes drifted to the clock blinking military time on the wall. 2300 hours. Oh. His vision swam now that it broke from the screen and he realized he didn’t feel so great. Like, not great at all, maaaybe more than a little nauseous.

Then he spotted the pile of junk food bags and wrappers in a halo around his chair. His lap was encrusted with crumbs and his keyboard wasn’t much better. He prided himself in his total lack of squeamishness but this was…kinda more than a little disgusting.

About as disgusting as he felt right now.

Hermann’s wide lips thinned to a line. “I did try to warn you.”

Newt groaned and flopped back in his chair, which was a big mistake because the accidental stretch sent a pang through his belly and he doubled over, heaving shallow breaths and trying to swallow back the nausea.

“And don’t throw up on my shoes, if you would be so kind.”

“No promises,” Newt wheezed. Hermann took a careful step back out of the “blast radius.” Newt swallowed a few more times, fumbled for water bottle on his desk and took a swig. His medication left him dry-mouthed so he always had one handy. After a tense moment, the wave of nausea passed which only reminded him of the other gross part of his hyperfixation bouts.

Stress eating. His whole body felt bloated and gross and his stomach distended to just this side of pain. The buttons on his shirt were tight and if Hermann would just take off already so he could unbutton his pants and breathe he’d feel much better. His stupid, tight pants were only a fashion statement when he wasn’t spilling out of them like an over-ambitious muffin in front of the guy he’d been hopelessly dreaming about boning since he were twenty-fucking-three, and right now he couldn’t imagine feeling any less sexy. Newt buried his face in his hands with a groan.

“You can go. Don’t worry, I’ll get the damn lights,” Newt muttered into his hands, then scraped them back through his hair as he sat up. Hermann was still standing there looking, if anything, kinda… worried.

“Are you certain you don’t need help returning to your quarters?” Hermann said. “I know how it can be with your… your mind the way it is, and it does you no favors when you lose track of your surroundings, and worse, your own wellbeing like this.”

“You say “lose track” like it was something I had control over,” Newt said dryly.

“My apologies, I know it’s not as simple as that, I merely meant…”

Newt waved him off. “Nah, don’t worry about it. Thanks for trying earlier, sorry I was a dick about it.”

“Well, I won’t contradict you on that point.”

Newt snorted. On any other night it would be way too embarrassing to let Hermann walk him back, people might get ideas. They might get the exact idea that Newt was really hoping someone would get, and that someone was Hermann, when Newt went through waves of getting handsy with the guy when the crush got too bad and then scrambling away again when another fight flared. Usually because Hermann had a stupid opinion about Newt’s research, or Newt had an opinion about Hermann’s stupid research. It was just how they were, and fighting was almost as good as fucking when it came to breaking up the very one-sided sexual tension.

Ugh, sexual tension. No fucking chance of breaking that tonight. Maybe it was for the best.

“Actually, y’know what? I think I could use that hand,” Newt winced.

He wasn’t sure if he should expect another exasperated retort or jibe for that one, but Hermann said nothing, only offered his arm to Newt the way he’d done countless times in return.

Hermann must have deemed this episode to be on the no-insults side of the line that existed between them, where dwelled the topics Never To Be Discussed, mostly stuff they had no control over. Newt never brought up the leg unless it was logistically necessary and Hermann never brought up Newt’s weird brain except for similar reasons (one time Newt heard that Hermann tripped a J-tech with his cane for calling Newt that spastic freak in the dungeon but try as he might Newt couldn’t get anyone to verify that crowning moment of awesome). Their insults always stayed in the realm of the other’s stupid research, or stupid clothes, or stupid hair/tattoos, stuff that they had control over (and god if only Hermann would take control of that wardrobe). For whatever reason, Newt stuffing himself with junk food on a work binge counted as “stuff they couldn’t control” and for that he was endlessly grateful.

The floor swayed beneath Newt’s feet and he had to swallow back another wave of nausea as he stood. He leaned on Hermann’s arm more than he’d really meant to when he’d accepted, he didn’t want to hurt the guy, but while their progress was slow out the lab (Newt got the lights on the way) and down the hall to their rooms. Hermann hesitated outside Newt’s door.

“Would you like me to come in…?” Hermann said hesitantly.

God, yes, Newt thought, not that he could ever say it.

“God, yes.”

Crap.

“… and see you settled?” Hermann finished.

Double-crap. Just play it cool, Newtster.

“Sure, I feel like total shit. Maybe you could rub my tummy or something?” he winked.

That wasn’t cool at all.

Newt grimaced. It’s not like he cared what Hermann-stick-up-his-arse-Gottlieb thought about him (ok he did care, a lot, way too much) but even his not caring was more about hoping that attitude came across in a reckless, devil-may-care, sexy bad boy kind of way. Not because he was too nauseous and bloated to give a shit that he was covered in crumbs instead of engine oil or alien guts, and just generally gross.

Instead of waiting for Hermann’s inevitable exasperated huff and retort about Newt’s talking nonsense, he opted for spinning the industrial-grade lock on his door and going inside. He stumbled through the doorway and only then turned to see Hermann still standing there, his cheeks lit up like Christmas.

“Is it something I said?” Newt hazarded.

Hermann shook himself. “Your… stomach, is it really hurting that much? All jests aside, Newton, the medical bay is closed but I’d be happy to help however I may. Your health is a serious matter.”

Newt’s eyes narrowed. Since when was Hermann helpful about anything? “You want to rub my stomach?”

Hermann’s face turned crimson and for once it was definitely not with anger.

“I…” Hermann said in a strangled tone.

“Look, I’m gonna get ready for bed,” Newt said and jabbed his thumb back over his shoulder at his rumpled pile of comforters. Godzilla sheets poked out at the corners, it wasn’t exactly a love nest. “You can do whatever you want.”

Newt turned and back to unbutton his shirt. The iron door clanged shut behind him and he sighed, exhaling to allow his gut to hang over his pants and sighing with deeper pleasure when his fingers reached the top button of his pants. He’d have to file that blush away for later, because for now if he was going to take another stab at seducing the human personification of a sweater-vest (why did he crush on that guy so hard, why?) it would have to wait until he felt human again at all.

There was a polite cough from behind him.

Newt shrieked and whipped around, his hands flying to cover himself since the pants had slid halfway down his thighs. Hermann stared, his fist covered his mouth until he slowly lowered it. “I… you said whatever I… I’d feel better if I knew you were…” Hermann cleared his throat. “I’ll just see myself out, then.”

“Wait,” Newt blurted. Seriously, Hermann was still here? Newt had said he could do whatever he wanted and he’d stayed? “Was that offer serious?”

Hermann turned back and the blush was there again, heating up to his ears. “I… I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t,” he said stiffly.

“I, well… sure? Hell, why not? It’s not like I was going to get any sleep without it,” Newt said. Right, they were just pals here. Pals who were mostly rivals, pals who definitely didn’t have crackling sexual tension filling the room like a Tesla coil gone haywire. That was only in Newt’s head. He tentatively finished unbuttoning his shirt and tossed it over the back of his desk chair before bending to shuck his trousers. “Thanks, man, I guess that means I owe you.”

“What are you doing?” Hermann squawked.

“Getting ready for bed?” Newt said with a raised eyebrow. “Dude, you stayed, sorry if that means you get the whole package because I am not wearing anything except boxers to bed.” He paused, and it couldn’t get much worse anyway so he added with a wink, “And even that’s a concession.”

He snickered under his breath as Hermann sputtered but then, the guy had volunteered and there was something going on with that blush that had the wheels in Newt’s brain turning. It’s not like he could do anything more to sabotage his future chances with Hermann anyway, so might as well not worry about it. He flopped down on the bed, then winced and curled in on himself as the pangs returned with a vengeance. Yeah, it hadn’t been a total joke about the not being able to sleep. The first time he’d had a night like this was when he started undergrad as a teen and back then he’d averaged at least one night like this a month.

“Here, just let me,” Hermann huffed as he sat down beside Newt on the bed. He was still wearing the shirt and sweater-vest, which made Newt feel a little underdressed for the occasion until he reminded himself that Hermann was overdressed which instantly made him feel better. Hermann’s fingers were cold but it was nice, kinda soothing as they began to massage slow circles around his belly. His soft, protruding belly with its gaping Kaiju maw and airbrushed flame abs that definitely weren’t fooling anyone at this point.

It was only a few minutes before the pain began to ease and even with a double dose of meds, Newt found relaxation taking the place of the manic energy that had powered him through the night and probably would have gotten him to the morning just in time for a spectacular crash if he’d kept riding it.

“Dude, you’re really good at this,” Newt murmured and let his eyes slide shut.

“I…ermm, I’ve watched some videos on the matter,” Hermann coughed.

Newt’s brow furrowed and he cracked an eye open. The blush was back. Interesting. Hypothesis time. “Sorry I’m so gross right now,” he said. “I know this is more up-close-and-personal you wanted to get with me, especially with the whole swollen tummy and over-eating thing.” Hermann’s blush spread. “It’s not like I plan it or anything, I just lose track of time. It’s been like this for ages, I was never a skinny kid or anything, but the freshmen fifteen hit pretty hard especially when my dads weren’t around to keep healthy food out and, uh, I grew out of a few wardrobes…”

Hermann gave a muffled squeak and his fingers dug a little too hard into Newt’s stomach so that he winced. “That’s… interesting,” Hermann said faintly. “Hrm. That is… you should be more careful in the future. I’d be happy to keep you well stocked in food of some nutritional value if it will spare you another night like this.”

“You’d feed me? That’s sweet of you, Herms,” Newt said. Jackpot. Hermann looked like he was going to start sweating if he blushed any harder, he might have already. “I’d eat from your fingers if it meant not feeling this cruddy again any time soon.”

Hermann released a deep, slow breath that shivered at the end. “D-Don’t be absurd.”

“I’m not.”

Hermann jerked to stare down at him and Newt looked back up frankly. Forget gross, he was starting to think he’d stumbled upon being quite the opposite.

He yawned hugely. “…But not tonight. I’m wiped and I need to let a little of this to go down before I think of eating anything more,” he said and patted his stomach, rubbing it once for good measure. Hermann’s eyes widened. Yup. “You can stay here if you want.”

“Why would I stay here when my quarters are next door?” Hermann said and sounded like he was trying to be offended but the words came out breathless.

Newt shrugged. “Why not? I don’t mind,” he said and curled over on his side and shut his eyes. “It’s up to you.”

He didn’t open them, just waited to hear the heavy iron door open and shut.

It didn’t.

—

[hoseokmylovesworld]

Picture of Love | 09

Pairing: Photographer!Hoseok x OC x Producer!Yoongi

Genre/Warnings: Hoseok AU/Yoongi AU/Includes strong language, anxiety, panic attack

Words: 4,694

Summary: Charlotte Galloway is the leader of the up and coming girl band, “She-Bang”, with a side hustle as a photographer for anyone who will hire her.  She meets a fellow professional photographer named Jung Hoseok who helps “She-Bang” realize their dreams and Charlotte to make a love connection along the way.

"Yup...Yes ma'am!...Thank you so much Aubrey, we really appreciate it!...Thank you, you too!" I hang up the phone with the club owner of the Mezzanine, thus closing the deal of performing there tomorrow night. "Good news girls!" I shout, exiting the bathroom of the hotel room. "Oh yeah?" says Leyah from her trusty bed.

Does she ever move?

Carrie sat on the floor at the foot of my bed in between Vicky's legs, who was braiding her hair.

"I have just setup a gig at the Mezzanine for tomorrow night." I say smugly walking into the room. "Aw fuck yeah!" Carrie cheers from her spot on the floor causing the rest of our eyes to widen and us to giggle. "That's great. That place we went clubbing at a few days ago?" Leyah specifies. "Yup. Called the club owner and asked if we could do a set. She was uneasy about it, then she watched some of our YouTube videos and agreed to pay."

"Why have we never performed there before? I feel like we hit every place in San Fran." Vicky questioned, not taking her focus off of Carrie's intricate fish tale braid for a second. "Yeah me too, I guess we just overlooked this one." I shrug and go to mine and Leyah's joint closet to pick out an outfit my 'do-over' date with J-Hope. We're supposed to be going to dinner and then to his close friend's art exhibit/auction downtown

I was pleasantly surprised to hear that J-Hope was an art lover like myself and that we had something else to bond over. Of course we both had an appreciation seeing as we both love photography, but the topic of French art in particular tickles my fancy and J-Hope's friend just happened to be a French artist.

"Going somewhere, Char?" Leyah asks from behind me. I've been found out.

"Yeah...J-Hope and I are going out tonight. Don't wait up for me." She laughs.

"Three nights in a row...Someone's infatuated." She drawls in her low register. I visibly cringe at the use of the world. "If that's the word you wanna use." I whisper, suddenly disinterested in the conversation. "Oh, yeah. No, that's definitely the word I want to use." She laughs at my discomfort, as per usual and the girls join her. I just roll my eyes and continue my search. "Let me help you." She offers and joins me at the wardrobe. That's what I loved about my best friend. If you fell, she would definitely laugh at you, but she would always be there to help you up in the end. "Where you going anyway?" She asks looking through her clothes as well.

"I actually didn't ask. He just said we would get something to eat and then go to his friend's art exhibit to support, but I was all for it when I heard the words 'French' and 'art' in the same sentence." I share, getting excited about the whole thing once again.

"So, hella fancy." Leyah nods, searching faster, seemingly knowing what to look for now.

"I don't know about hella fancy, but a good amount of 'I'm here because I give a fuck' you know?"

"Totally. Here we go...Wait 'til lover boy sees you in this." Leyah pulls out a short sleeveless, black top that would expose my mid-section and a long, black pencil skirt covered in detailed rose patterned lace.

      "Oh, Leyah. This is perfect! Where were you hiding this!?" I take the items and hold them to my chest in elation. She just shrugs. "I never have any reason to dress up anyway, maybe I was saving it for this moment." She winks at me quickly before making her way back to her bed. I just smile to myself before finding a pair of black leather heels to pair it with. This act makes me feel more confident about tonight in that things might actually be successful this time.

That's right. Jay is gonna take me out and we're gonna have fun and we're gonna laugh and he's gonna take me home and we're gonna do it all  over  again.

I chant this in my head over and over again to rid myself of the paranoia that surrounds me twenty-four seven about the whole dating ordeal. I shake the thoughts away as I hop onto my bed and reach for my phone to inform our fans of our performance tomorrow, attaching one of my favorite photos from the shoot yesterday. After uploading the photos and the jam session to our social media and switching out our profile pictures, we've actually gained lots of followers on different platforms. We even got a couple dm's from wannabe producers looking to work with us. Who knew a few professional pictures could make such a difference. Around 6:30 I get off my ass and start doing my make-up, I decide to go for a dark, bold and smokey look with a red lip to match the look Leyah let me borrow. J-Hope texts me he's waiting for me in the lobby at 7:32 so I say goodbye to the girls, who were nice enough to wish me good luck, and head down to meet him.

He's sitting in the lounge area near the front entrance when I first see him. He's in a fitted, silvery-grey suit and a spotless white dress shirt. God this guy looks gorgeous in anything.

"Jay!" I greet as I get closer to him. He looks up, a huge smile splitting across his face as he got up to greet me properly. His eyes rake up and down my body as we get closer. "Wow, you look...incredible, Charlotte." He says, openly checking me out and pecking me on the lips, not that I minded, but I will never get used to that.

"Thank you! I love the suit." I respond as his arm wraps around my bare waist, sending shivers up my spine. "Thanks, I wore it just for you." He looks to me with a smug smirk and my insides get flooded with heat and butterflies at the sight.

This. Will. Go. Well.

"So, where are we going?" I ask as we get into the car. "Oh, this neat place near the exhibit called Michael Mina. I figured French food before we look at some French art would be perfect, wouldn't you agree?" He glances over at me.

"I can get behind that." I can't help myself as I grab my phone out of my clutch and Google this restaurant. Five stars. Of course.

The restaurant had a very futuristic feel to it and the decor consisted of several shades of tans and browns and the place was packed. We sit at a table along the wall and the conversation flows between us as usual.

"Have you always wanted to be a photographer?" I ask before stuffing a piece of lobster in my mouth. "Oh. Yeah-well, since freshman year of high school. Before that, I had been taking pictures from the moment my mom put a camera in my hands when I was four." He laughs to himself as if remembering something he found funny. "I used to try to recreate my favorite movie scenes with my friends and capture those."

"Oh, I gotta see that." I laugh shameless, bringing my drink to my lips.

"Yeahhhhh, no way in hell. Anyway, did you always want to be a musician?" He asks, giving me his undivided attention.

"Oh...No...But I always admired them and then one day...I picked up a guitar and keyboard." I sigh, trying not to think so much about that day in particular, but I offer the information anyway because I want J-Hope to know this 'relationship' is two sided, whatever that relationship may be at this point.

"As a child you mean?"

"No... Recently... A few years ago actually."

"Wow... That's impressive. The way you play seems like you've been doing it for much longer." He smiles sweetly. I had a hardass teacher.

"Thanks." I return the expression. "Of course. So, did you play sports in school?" He keeps the conversation flowing so well.

"I played volleyball in high school. It's my favorite sport." I say smiling brightly at those memories. "I can totally see that...Specifically you in compression shorts running around a court." J-Hope's gaze narrows and focuses in me with a menacing smirk. Goddamn those lips.

I reach over the table to swat his arm. "You are on thin ice, Jay." I say threatenly while running my foot up his leg gently.

His jaw drops the slightest bit and he runs his tongue over his front teeth before he gathers himself and responds briefly. "I'm counting on it Charlotte." Before winking and eating his food once again.

Well, it's good to know he's a flirty, hornball just like me.

"What about you? Ever play sports in school?"

"Oh no, I can't even finish a game of badminton." He detests, causing us to giggle profusely. "What kind of student were you?" He questions.

"Eh, kept to myself, bit of a loner. Marks weren't so great either." I answer easily, J-Hope nods understandingly. "Me too." he replies. I raise one eyebrow at him. "I don't believe that. You're so smart." He smiles shyly. "Thanks, Charlotte. So are you." I nod in thanks, not really believing the compliment, but accepting it nonetheless.

"So what kind of kid were you?" He asks suddenly.

"So many questions."

"I'm a curious guy." He shrugs.

"... A pain in the ass." J-Hope nearly chokes on his drink from laughing.

"I'll bet. You and your friends get into a lot of trouble?" He assumes.

I shake my head, looking down at my food. "... I didn't have many friends, still don't. It was mostly just me and my cousin. Maeve. We were always together." I huff out a bitter laugh.

"Do you still talk?" He inquires, hopefully.

"No...No." I say sorely, thinking about my old best friend and all the adventures we shared before we were separated.

Immediately trying to lighten the mood, like the ball of sunshine he is, he asks "So... What's the last thing you Googled?"

"Where the leftover poop in your butt goes after you're done." I answer seriously and possibly a little too fast. We share a look before bursting out in the biggest fit of laughter we have yet, attracting nearly every eye in our section, but not exactly acknowledging them.

And his reply "... Did you get an answer?" sends us into another bout of extreme giggles that certainly attracts even more eyes, but this time the only thing J-Hope and can I see is each other.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Walking into the exhibit, I am once again struck with wonder in why J-Hope chose me to keep taking to these places. I've never been to an art exhibit or auction before, but I'm definitely deeming this one of the more fancy ones. There were way more people  here than I thought there would be at a just starting artist's exhibit, there had to be around seventy people in the vicinity. There were massive canvases with detailed depictions that I couldn't wait to analyze on every wall. There were bouquets of various flower arrangements in every corner of the large room, several chandeliers on the ceiling and servers handing out hors d'oeuvres to guests. J-Hope's hand gives my waist a gentle squeeze, getting my attention as I let out a tiny squeal.

"You alright there?" He looks me over before stopping to look into my eye, waiting for my response. "What? Oh, I'm fine. Just a bit overwhelmed is all." I say gesturing to our surroundings. I'm not accustomed to this shit like you are.

"Everything looks so beautiful."

"Ha, yeah. I was expecting something like this, Abolsan's always been one for flare."

"I thought you said he was just making his start."

"Oh, well...He comes from money so..." He shrugs. Well that makes more sense. I knew his friends were rich.

We approach the first piece and I'm confused about the meaning behind it but the bold yet dark colors paired with rough, obviously layered strokes still held all my attention and forced me to come up with my own backstory for it. In my mind this is what art, in every form, is supposed to do. Stimulate you and your creative side to think freely. It's got my vote, I'm impressed. 'Mama' is the title of the piece.

Me too, Abolsan, me too.

Most of the other pieces had a similar effect on me, in that it captured me and was impressive as fuck for someone my age. J-Hope was very animated and giddy about the art himself and I was pleasantly surprised we had similar tastes and ideas for how the paintings translated and touched us.

We approach a piece that looks incredibly familiar. Too familiar. I can feel my hands start to sweat immediately and my heart rate increases ten-fold as I remember the first time I saw this painting.

FLASHBACK // 2 and half years ago

I walk the streets of downtown, L.A., fingers laced tightly with my boyfriend, Yoongi, on our way to the music shop to get a guitar for me. He had been giving me lessons on his own guitar and keyboard for so long, he figured it made sense to get me one as well and he was generous enough to buy it for me. On one of the busier streets we passed through, there was a young man around my age selling art on the curb. "Yoongi, wait." I pull on his hand as he continues to walk by the paintings, but he finally stops, sighing impatiently and looks at his wrist watch.

"Char, the shop closes soon, we gotta hurry if we wanna get that guitar you were looking at." He chimes softly in my ear, using his persuasive powers to get me to move along. I ignore his usually hypnotizing actions for the first time because of how taken I was with the painting in front of me. It contained none of my favorite colors, it actually contained my least favorite color: yellow. But the way that bright yellow basically melted into the soft red and blue that surrounded it, captured me in a way no work of art ever had. The way the colors almost wrestled for dominance, but came back together in harmony in a style that resembled Van Gogh's Starry Night, completely enchanted me.

"Hello Miss." The boy greeted me brightly with an accent I couldn't place. He had tanned skin, beautiful pale green eyes and cropped, black curly hair. "Hi!" I replied, being broken out of my trance. "Did you paint these?" I gesture to the paintings on the ground and he nods excitedly.

"You are...so talented." I say with wide eyes, still quite blown away. "Pfft." Yoongi openly scoffs and looks away with a humorless laugh.

Well someone's jealous.

"Thank you so much! I'm selling this one for $150.00" He points to the painting I was gawking at.

That's a little steep for a painting in my position and I don't want to ask Yoongi for it, that's too much.

"Oh...Okay." I say defeated. "Char, I'm sorry, but we gotta go and I'm not carrying the guitar and that thing all the way back to the apartment." Yoongi says, squeezing my hand gently. I nod understandingly and start moving along. "I'm sorry." I say to the artist. "They're beautiful!" I say over my shoulder while we make our way to the music shop and he just smiles and nods sadly.

The following week consists of our usual activites, Yoongi and I fooling around during the day, him teaching me how to play my new guitar and him going out to 'work' at night. But today was different as I wake up to an empty bed, but Yoongi is usually back by morning. When he doesn't answer my first three texts I figure he was in the middle of a job and give up to practice my guitar. About an hour later I see Yoongi enter the apartment with an excited gummy smile on his face. I barely ever get to see this glorious sight so I immediately return the gesture, but am still a little suspicious.

"Babe, what's goin' on? Everything alright?" I put the guitar aside and make my way over to him to question him. "Everything is great, just stay right there, I have a surprise for you."

This is new.

"Oh! Okay!" I stay in my spot in the middle of our shitty apartment facing away from the bed. "Close your eyes." He orders before leaving the apartment again, I comply, the gears turning in my head. "Is this a sex thing?" I question, completely fine with that idea.

"No Char." He says exhaustedly, making me laugh.

"...Do you want it to be?" He suddenly asks, full of life again. I shrug my shoulders. "I wouldn't complain." I hear him chuckle as he retrieves something from the hallway

Okay. It's big.

He makes his way passed me to the bed, he seems to be setting something up on it.

I knew it was a sex thing.

"Okay baby, turn around." I hear him say from the bed. "Now open your eyes." I open my eyes to reveal the breathtaking painting from last week, now surrounded by a frame just as beautiful, balancing on the headboard against the wall behind it. My hands fly up to cover my mouth instinctively as my eyes fall on Yoongi, who's sat at the foot of the bed with his signature satisfied smirk through tear filled eyes. His smirk transforms back to that beautiful gummy grin full of perfect teeth creating those incredibly cute crinkles around his eyes and turning them into near slits beneath his bleach blonde hair. I wanted to remember him exactly like this forever; happy. Happy with me.

I rush over to him, wrapping my arms around his neck and sinking into his lap. His arms wrap around me tightly as I pull him into a passionate kiss, which Yoongi returns greedily. I pull away to rest my forehead against his as he continues to nip at my mouth.

"Thank you so much." I say through the assault on my lips. "You're welcome baby. I love you." Yoongi somehow gets out through the ravishing, my body flooding with heat at the words that always managed to drive me insane. "Oh, I love you so much." I reply.

He lays back on the bed bringing me with him so that I'm straddling his body. I feel and hear the painting wobble slightly as the headboard shifts with us. I look up at it to check on it, but Yoongi pays it no mind as his assault on my mouth has moved to my neck. "Yoongi, maybe we should move the painting first." I say breathlessly, already giving into his actions.

"The painting is fine. Now take your clothes off." He orders against my skin. I chuckle and believe him, just as I do with everything else that comes out of his dangerous mouth and follow his directions.

End of Flashback

I break out of my trance as a chill runs up my spine, the product of Jay squeezing my bare waist once again and resting his other hand on my shoulder. "You okay?"

"Oh, yes." I literally shake my head free of the thoughts.  He pulls me further into his side and brushes my cheek with the back of his hand, collecting a stray tear. "Are you sure?" He asks gingerly. Oh my fucking God, not this again.

I nod frantically and search my purse for a tissue. "Yeah, I just need to find a bathroom." Jay nods and asks a nearby server where the bathrooms were  and leads me there swiftly. "I'll be right outside." He relays to me as I enter, I nod and continue on.

How the fuck did I get so blessed with this man?

Once inside, I immediately rush to the huge mirror and attempt to salvage my make-up in public for the second time in twenty-four hours.

Maybe I shouldn't actually be doing this. Maybe this is a sign that I shouldn't be here with Hoseok or anybody. This is what feelings do, they complicate and they only hurt.

Not when we're with Hoseok.

True.

"Ugh!" I groan as I touch up my make-up and take a few deep breaths before I exit the bathroom to find Jay just where I left him. What a fucking saint putting up with my shit like this.

"Are you okay?" He asks, expressing true concern. I sigh before responding. "Yeah it's just...I just loved that painting so much." I look down concentrating on not going back to that day, but I can't stop thinking about how the painting down the hall was just as breathtaking as the original. "Oh!" J-Hope breathes relieved and excited. "Well, I'm glad your enjoying everything."

"I really am." I answer truthfully and I just smile and nod with newfound energy gifted to me by J-Hope's happy disposition. We make our way through the rest of the exhibit and we end up back at the painting, which I can now see is fittingly named 'Her'. I huff out a bitter laugh before I notice J-Hope pick up a pen and write his name and a number next to it on the bidding sheet in front of the painting.

"What are you doing?" I spit at him without meaning to. Jay jerks back at my tone. "Well I was going to buy it for you." He said in an obvious, but playful tone.

"Don't." I spat once more with hard eyes, feeling incredibly uncomfortable in this position.

"Uh-well, I thought you liked it." He stammered, completely confused.

"I do, it's beautiful, but...That's okay, I don't need it." I rush out, pleading with him not to buy this beautiful monstrosity.

"Look, if you're worried about the price, I-"

"That's not what I'm worried about!" I almost scream, alarming J-Hope and some surrounding guests, my hands starting to shake at my sides.

"I'm sorry." I say breathing deeply a few times, probably looking like a crazy person. "Thank you so much for the offer Jay, but I don't need it...and I have nowhere to put it anyways." I shrug while bringing my arms up to wrap around his neck and step closer to him.

Maybe I can distract him with my charms.

He accepts my gesture, searching my eyes and wrapping his arms around my waist in return; he knows something is wrong.

Smart motherfucker.

"Okay." He pecks my lips quickly. "Okay." He repeats before going to scratch his name and bid off of the sheet. "Thank you." I whisper before I hear the voice of another approaching.

"Changed your mind, Hoseok?"

Am I the only one who doesn't call him that?!

A handsome man, taller than both Ja-Hoseok and I with the same olive skin, black curls and wide pretty green eyes from two and half years ago approaches us with an inviting smile in a dashing black suit and tie. The artist who sold this original painting to Yoongi. 

He matured quite nicely.

"Abolsan!" J-Hoseok let's go of me to engulf the artist in a bear hug, which Abolsan happily returns.

"It's so good to see you again! This is my date Charlotte." Hoseok introduces us.

I don't even think I'm saying that right in my head.

"Just call me Char." I correct him as Abolsan and I shake hands.

"Uh huh." Abolsan seems to be lost in thought as he shakes my hand for much longer than is necessary, his eyes fixed on my face and raking up and down my body. Okay.

Hoseok is clearly losing patience and clears his throat loudly to get his friends attention.

That's cute, we love a jealous queen.

Abolsan visibly flinches at the sound and refocuses his eyes on my face, letting my hand go as if he's being woken up from a dream. "Huh? I'm sorry! It's just...You look so familiar." He squints his eyes and shakes his head slowly.

"Really? Well, I've been told I just have one of those faces." I laugh while trying to send Abolsan a message with my eyes not to say anything else. He seemed to get it.

He blinked in understanding and smiled once more, though this time it seemed forced. "Well, it's really nice to to meet you Char. Welcome to my exhibit. Feel free to browse my other pieces if this one doesn't exactly speak to you Hoseok." Abolsan added in good humor.

Great, he just saw that entire exchange.

"Oh, ha, yeah. Just isn't my style I guess." Hoseok lied smoothly. I really feel bad for burning his painting now. He's such a nice guy.

"That's okay, I'm just glad you could make it." The two catch up as I watch, kept here by Hoseok's grip on my waist, not that I wanted to be anywhere else right now. Abolsan kept stealing glances my way while Hoseok talked, which I think gave Hoseok the wrong idea as he kept pulling me closer to himself and stroking my arm. I helplessly look to the floor as a wide smile breaks out on my face. If only he knew.

"Well, you take care of yourself Hoseok, I hope to see you around. It was nice meeting you Char." Abolsan cheered, giving us both half hugs.

"You too."

"See you Abolsan." Hoseok and I leave without bidding on a single painting and once again I feel like shit after another date.

"I'm sorry I even managed to fuck up the do-over." I say as we drive towards the hotel.

Hoseok's head snaps in my direction and the back at the road. He huffs out a laugh and reaches for my hand in my lap and rubs his thumb over it.

"You didn't fuck up anything, not on this date or the last one. You just...know what you want. I like that in a woman." He laughs and I join him. Pulling up to the hotel, Hoseok somehow manages to walk around the other side to open my door before I can and walks me to the entrance. He stops me by reaching for my waist, bringing me closer to him. 

I don't argue, in fact I bring my arms to wrap around his neck and play with the hairs on the nape of his neck. I feel he might be avoiding holding my hand in public because of what happened the last time he did that and I can't help, but appreciate him more.

"Do you wanna do this again later this week?" He says suddenly, glancing at my lips from time to time.

"This? No." I say gesturing to nothing in particular, but referencing the mini disaster that was the art exhibit. "But dinner again, maybe a nice movie, sure, I would love to." We both laugh and finally get to share another searing kiss that leaves me wanting more as soon as it begins. We share lingering pecks, enjoying the close proximity of each other until I force myself to pull away. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

Hoseok  breaks into a big smile that barely allowed me to see his irises. "It's okay Charlotte, I forgive you." Why?

"I'll call you. See you soon." Hoseok walks back to his car. "Bye Jay." I say, still self-conscious about how many ways I could fuck his name up.

I take the elevator up and collapse on my bed immediately upon entering the room without getting undressed or greeting any of the girls. It's then that I realize the girls aren't even here and the room is empty.

"Where is everyone?"

[robbiwrites717]

Master list of my Davekat fic recs.( SFW LIST HERE ) I wanted to include my thoughts about each fic but it’s been well over a year since I read most of them and it would have been exhausting to read back through all of them so i just included the authors’ summaries instead. I have major respect for every fic and author on this list, seriously they’re amazing <3 Happy Reading !

All I Know Are Sad Songs - by ayyyy(RosaAquafire) - Alpha TImeline - Ch 36/?-  122731 words

The world is ending. Dave Strider can't tell if the bender he's on is because of that, or because of how bad stuff is fucked up with Rose, or just because his own bullshit has finally caught up to him. All he knows is that if the world DOES end today, maybe that wouldn't be the worst thing.Of course, he can't throw in the towel. His fate is already written. He raises a resistance. He duels the false presidents. He stands against the Empress herself. So maybe that's why Skaia allows a glitch that carries a consciousness across sessions that might save Dave's shitty life. (this is the only fic I’ll put my own notes on because it is absolutely and unequivocally my favorite fic ever. I almost didn’t read it because of the tags but the author handles every issue so seriously and beautifully, I can not stess enough how amazing this fic is!!!)

A wish upon a fountain or a falling start - by twofoldaxiom - Fantasy AU - Ch 25/25 - 51379 words

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you fell from the sky.You hadn't meant to; you were trying to make a wish by catching a fallen star by the tail. The star turned out to be stronger than you. Now, on Earth, alone and unsure of yourself, what can you do except find someone who might believe? And what do you do when you yourself start to question?

a fever you’re learning to live with - by callmearcturus - post sburb/sgrub - Ch 1/1 - 3974 words 

This feels like winning. You are learning to live with the feeling more and more, like building up a poison resistance.

A Stunning Tour De Force - by Rag - Earth C - Ch 1/1 - 5101 words

"A triumph."

-Dave Strider, about getting his dick sucked for the first time

All I Can Taste Is The Sugar In Your Hair - by LandofMistandSecrets - Earth C - Ch 1/1 - 13614

Trickster Dave is a god damn treasure and no one can tell me otherwise.Some scenes from the Rosemary wedding, but really, this is about Dave being high on cherub candy and really, really, really wanting his boyfriend to fuck him. (Not intended to be dubcon, but if you have issues with altered mental states or pushy partners in the context of an established relationship it might be not great for you! Take care.)

Alternia Shuffle - by Essynkardi & twofoldaxiom - 1950s/detective AU- Ch 2/? - 4646 words

Your name is Dave Strider, and you're a twenty-six year old detective working for the Alternia City Police Department as senior officer Pyrope's partner and occasional chewtoy. It's already a messy job, but it gets messier when you end up the sole witness to an assassination during an art exhibit.Now you have to simultaneously cover your ass and uncover all the clues to find out who did it and who could be next, and things only get more complicated when you have to face a few things you've been covering up yourself.

Beauty Is In The Eye Of The Guy With Slightly More Self-Esteem - by LandofMistandSecrets - Earth C- Ch 1/1 - 7347 words 

Dave is really attracted to his boyfriend, and determined to prove it.

Believe M When I Say Fuck - by Rag - earth c - Ch 1/1 - 4997 words

karkat goes and fucks himself

By the Letter (of the law) -  by Asuka Kureru(Askerian) - Ch 4/4 - 10582 words 

"No, but answer me this, do you want to invalidate this whole farce of a legal and religious joining of blah-di-fucking-blah? Because I have looked at your laws and if we don't consummate the union it's not valid!"

Anonymous asked: Davekat. Arranged marriage! The first time they are alone together is on their wedding night.

Now with actual sex, woo! Also several pages of Karkat and Dave being the dorkiest knights ever knighted.

Dave Strider Has Abs - by Miriage - High School AU (not explicit but i forgot to put it on my sfw list :/)

"Your name is Karkat Vantas and you’re mad.You’re really really really fucking mad.You’re mad because Dave-fucking-Strider has abs.Has serious abs.Has abs that you could grate shit on.Has abs that would make girls fall over and die.Has abs that gay men would weep for."

Dive in Deeper - by carnivorousBelvedere - Vacation AU - Ch 4/7 - 8298

Karkat is going on vacation during his birthday with Rose and Kanaya. They gift him a scuba certification class.The catch?Dave is taking it with him.

egg pun - by Rag - earth c - Ch 1/1 - 4518 words

dave and karkat explore the magical world of eggs

Flight Recorder From Viking 7 - by Royalrastafariannaynays - Space/Future/Pilots AU - Ch 7/7 - 31136 words

Dave Strider is a way-too-lonely transport pilot assigned to a high-pay low-stakes mission over the Christmas holiday. He's got a blistering hangover, a conscience full of nightmares, and an angry copilot. All he needs now is a nice bout of feeling worthless and-- well would ya look at that, he's got that, too. Time for takeoff, Houston, the water's just fine.Or: In which Dave Strider discovers a modicum of self worth while stuck on a trip through foreign space, with a short, irritable, and annoyingly attractive troll as his only conversational partner for the next two weeks.

Helter Skelter - by HexMeridan(myrainbowshoelaces) - post sburb-sgrub - Ch 1/1 - 6281 words

Dave gets a visit from Future Dave, and between the two of them, they give Karkat the night of his life. Over and over again.

Hit the Deck: A davekat fic- by awkwardfawn - restaurant AU - Ch 15/? - 68875 words

I present a story in which Karkat works at a restaurant where you're supposed to be rude to the customers. It's sort of the gimmick there. Normally he can handle what he's given at work and give it right back, but this just might be the straw that breaks the load. Little does our kitkat know that Dave can dish the shit better than anyone out there. Sarcastic adult boys will be sarcastic. I hope this will be as slow burning as I want it to be, but then again it probably won't.

Inveterate - by Rag - earth C - Ch 1/1 - 4441 words 

dave and karkat try bdsm

it goes well until it doesnt

Just A Thing We Do - by LandofMistandSecrets - Earth C - Ch 1/1 - 14941 words 

“Apparently, you inspired him to try initiating amorous… activities… over these stupid devices!” Karkat waved his phone at him, punctuating the accusation. “Do you actually just casually proposition Dirk while he’s busy with other people?!”Jake shot him a wide-eyed look, freezing halfway through shoveling a handful of popcorn in his mouth. He slowly lowered his hand, blinking rapidly, eyebrows furrowing behind his glasses. “I -- well, what’s that to any of you, exactly?”(Or, as I have been calling it, The DaveKat Sexting Fic. ENJOY)

Love Bites - by notwest - earth c - Ch 1/1 - 2366

What if hickeys were the first mark on Dave's body he liked?

Midnight on the Demon Patrol - by Asuka Kureru(Askerian) - Ch 30/? - 233688 words

Fighting fire with fire is okay in theory but Detective-Summoner Dave L. Strider figures trying to summon corporeal demons to the mortal plane to fight other demons is likely to backfire spectacularly. Sadly for him his inner Knight gets the vapors at the thought of letting anyone else play guinea pig.Yup, he is totally hogging the demon. What could go wrong? (Oh no, Dave, why did you have to think that.)

Red Converse - by MageofHeart - Humanstuck AU - Ch 16/16 - 26648 words

Due to a seizure, Karkat Vantas now has to learn how to live his life with two speech aphasia. He goes to therapy three times a week, suffers from awful headaches, and tries to avoid people as much as possible.Due to a traumatic experience, Dave Strider refuses to use his words, preferring to relay his snarky comments and witty banter through sign language and typing on his phone.They meet in a waiting room.

Sugar and Spice - by Dawngyocry - Humanstuck/Coming of Age Fic - Ch 2/2 - 44734 words

You remember the first time you really realized you were fucked up.You were five. First year of kindergarten, miserable as all fuck. The teacher told the boys to line up on one side of the room and the girls on the other. You don't even remember why. You just remember the result.

Sunday Morning - Nomisupernova - earth c - Ch 1/1 - 3561 words

“Hey Dave?” You rest your arm at your side, his hand finds yours and he entwines his fingers with yours. His ring clinks against your ring and it makes your heart skip a beat to think about it.He looks at you, blinking sleepily, “Yes Karkat?”“I love you.”He laughs softly, a beautiful sound to your ears, “I love you too, Kar.”

The Cold Never Bothered Me Anyway - by ectoBisexual - ski lodge AU - Ch 1/1 - 4128 words

During a trip to a ski lodge with their friends, Dave and Karkat end up stuck in an elevator. It sucks, but it's not the worst thing in the world. Until the power goes out and it starts to get really, really cold.

The Eurydice Suite - by callmearcturus - post sburb/sgrub - Ch 15/15 - 97103 words

Dream-sharing. A highly illegal little industry in which agents delve into people's dreams and unearth their deepest secrets and memories. And the Strider-Lalondes are the best in the business.Until Dirk Strider gets his fool ass trapped within the confines of his own subconscious, with his Auto-Responder playing malicious prison warden. To save him, it's going to take a team of the world's most talented dreamers to save him.Backed by the token rich friend, lead by the surliest extractor ever bribed out of retirement, haunted by the shade of the l8est and gr8est agent 

The Finer Points Of Plantsitting - by LandofMistandSecrets - Earth C - Ch 1/1 - 9323 words 

Jade & Davepeta are taking off on a presumably romantic weekend retreat. Dave and Karkat are left in charge of the plants.It's just one weekend. There's no way this goes wrong.Or, uh. Gets weird. Right???

The Sex Number - by ayyyy(RosaAquafire - earth c = Ch 1/1 - 3788 words

CG: IS OR IS THERE NOT ANY SOCIETAL OR CULTURAL SIGNIFICANCE TO THE NUMBER 69?

TT: Ah, yes.

TT: The sex number.

TT: This is where I slowly wink.

CG: OH, CHRIST. 

What To Do When You See Your Best Bro Naked - by Miriage - College/female kk AU - Ch 2/2 - 7464 words

"Still, when you walked out of the bathroom with a towel around your waist and a smaller one ruffling your black hair, you weren’t expecting him to be there and he wasn’t expecting you to be wearing sans almost nothing."A story in which Dave Strider falls in love after he sees Karkat Vantas naked.(Also, Karkat has AA boobs and Dave is into it.) 

[ghoulboyboos]

Inspired by doppelgangers i saw on my cruise. Ryan is a performer in the musical shows and shane is one of the photographers on board

Oh boy, nonnie! I have never been on a cruise ship in my life, all that I have is Google and my imagination. I hope I can get the scenery across

Thestage of the Calliope isbigger than any cruise ship’s Ryan has ever been on. He and thetroupe get a little lost in blocking and re-blocking the show for thenew venue. The director has already slipped out for his seventhcigarette break and it’s getting a little concerning. Ryan looks athis co-star who just shrugs. She is twisting in the cute blue dressthat is part of her costumes and Ryan snorts and pulls her into aspin. Somewhere behind the stage, “The nicest kids in town” isplaying and everyone else seems pretty chill with the new place.

Theyeventually figure all of it out. Hairsprayis still well liked, because it’s bright and happy and positive.Ryan isn’t sure if the rich and mighty are the crowd who gets mostexcited about the show, but they definitely seem to like it. Whenhe’s not on stage, he glimpses out through the curtains and frombehind the backstage door. Most of the guests are dressed in allkinds of expensive outfits, but they keep it pretty tasteful. Ryanswipes the lock that is half-plastered to his forehead to give himthat I’m trying to keep my hair in linelook Link Larkin is rocking outof his eyes and looks around. The waiters and waitresses are prettybusy and Ryan knows alcohol is flowing on these cruises like mad. Hehears a click and looks to his left.

Aman is standing nearby. He’s dressed in dark chinos and a blackHenley with a jean jacket over it. Apart from that, he has severalbags and pieces of equipment strapped to him, all of which seems tobelong to the camera he is holding in his hands. They’re nicehands, Ryan notices. Long fingered and lean. The man isn’t exactlywhat he would consider conventionally attractive, but in a weird way,he’s sort of cute. His face is long, his nose is big and his eyeskind of droopy. But he has soft, fluffy brown hair and a nice stubblecovering his chin and jaw. He’s also tall. Really, really tall andRyan licks his lips thinking about someone that height pinning him tothe next wall to kiss him senseless.

OkayRyan, chill your bi little brain. It’s just a photographer.

Saidphotographer stands up to his full height – and Ryan can’t helpbut gulp a little at that – and removes the lens of his camera,swapping it for another one with quick, practiced movement. When helooks up, his gaze brushes Ryan and Ryan can’t help it, he lifts ahand in greeting and smiles a bit. The guy pauses and then grins andwaves back.

Somewherebetween high school and college, Ryan has learned to always followwhat’s happening on the show even if he was paying attention tosomething else. He knows he’s going to be on stage in five, so hejust smirks at the tall guy, gestures towards the stage and shrugsapologetically. The photographer seems amused and just nods and giveshim a thumbs up. Ryan chuckles as the thumbs up turns into fingerguns and a wink. He pretends to swoon and sees the guy’s earspinken. Interesting.He smiles at the man before he ducks backstage and gets ready for hisnumber.

-

Afterthe show, he finds the photographer again. He is ambling about,offering people at the tables to take their picture on the Calliopewith the show’s scenery in the background. From what Ryan can see,the guy is joking a lot, making people laugh genuine laughter whilehe is taking pictures. Afterwards, he shows them the tablet he iscarrying in a bag under his arm, probably showing off their pictureson a big screen. He hands out business cards and Ryan can see himcollect the odd tip, always humble and grateful. Ryan is hanging outat the bar and buffet. He normally focuses on buffets and stacks hisplate with a bunch of fried food, but tonight, he is distracted. Ryanisn’t sure what exactly draws him to the guy. He is neitherparticularly hot or charming, but there is just something about himthat seems friendly and comforting and, as embarrassing it feels,Ryan could use someone who is just supportive and nice.

Luckily,his interest doesn’t seem as one-sided as he has feared, becauseeventually, the guy passes the bar and just quickly grabs a sausageroll to stuff his face with before he is heading straight for Ryan.Ryan knows he should probably fall into a pose that makes him lookaloof and charming, but he is sick and tired of all the flirting tipshe has gotten over the years. He feels a genuine attraction to thisman, so he decides to be genuine in return.

“Uh.Hey.” The man smiles down at Ryan and Ryan feels his stomach flip alittle. “I saw you earlier, remember me?”

Ryanchuckles. “Yeah, uh. I do remember. Did you think I wouldn’t?”

Thephotographer smiles thinly.

“Itdepends on the person. There are some who consider the staff kind of…replaceable. They don’t recall our names or faces. Not that yourcrew did that, but some other show folk have done that. Sorry.”

Ryanwaves him off.

“Noworries, you’re not insulting me or anything. I know some peoplehave huge egos.”

Theman nods.

“Isit okay if I hang out here a bit?”

Ryanblinks.

“Ofcourse! You don’t have to ask that.”

Theguy leans against the wall next to Ryan and he seems to relax alittle as he looks over and smiles. He has a nice smile and Ryanfinds himself mirroring it.

“Iguess I got in touch with too many… uh, complicated people.” Theman says and laughs. “There are some people who don’t want to beseen with me.”

Ryanfrowns.

“Whythe fuck not?”

Theguy shrugs.

“Classicism,I think? I’m just a dudetaking pictures of people who deserve having their picture takenbecause they are rich and beautiful.” He sounds a little bitter andRyan feels himself nodding.

“Yeah,I get it. The kind who wants entertainment but treats entertainerslike dancing monkeys. I know what you mean.”

Hecatches the guy shoot him a look, measuring and unsure.

“I’msorry you get that shit, too. If it helps, I thought your show wasreally amazing.”

Ryansmiles.

“Itdoes. Thank you.”

Thephotographer laughs and it sounds of relief.

“I’mShane, by the way.”

Heholds out his hand and Ryan shakes it.

“I’mRyan.”

Shanesmiles back at him and Ryan could swear he sees a sparkle in thosehazel eyes.

“Well,Ryan. I took a bunch of pictures of your show… wanna help me pickthe best ones?”

Theyend up at a table in the back where they go through the picturesShane took. Ryan is impressed. Whatever Shane did to take and editthem, the colors are popping wonderfully, which has always beensomething that was very important to him in this show. Shane alsoseems to be able to capture movement very well without causing thepicture to blur. Ryan smiles down at a picture of the main actressand him and he feels great.

“Isthat your girlfriend?” Shane asks.

Ryanknows that tone. That actively by-the-by behavior. The question thatwas really a different one: “Are you single or are you taken?”

Hedecides to go easy on the guy.

“No,no. She’s a great friend but we could never fit together likethat.” He laughs.

“Ihad a boyfriend a while ago, but it didn’t work out so I’ve beenliving the single life ever since.”

Shanelooks over at him, eyes widening and Ryan smirks at him.

Theydon’t push anywhere that night. Instead, they talk about picturesand Shane explains to him what adjustments he made to capture thecolors so well. Ryan listens intently but still instantly forgetshalf of it. He admits it to Shane, who just laughs and promises toteach him again and again if he wants to.

-

Afterthat, they are sort of glued at the hip. Some of Shane’sphotographs are just for Ryan. Moments during the show where Shanehad zoomed in to take a picture of Ryan looking especially good. Ryanfeels flattered, but he also is worried. He doesn’t want this guyto believe that he is just talking to him so he gets the bestpictures.

Hemakes a plan. On one of the nights they don’t have a show, he hangsaround the dining room until Shane is done taking pictures. He wavesat the other man to catch his attention and his heart flutters whenhe sees that face split into a smile. They hang out in the kitchen.The cook lets them, because they are technically staff and each ofthem is sitting in the back with a filled plate while talking.

“Iwas wondering.” Ryan starts, pushing himself to continue. “Do youmaybe want to hang out at my cabin later? Each of the actors got abottle of Champagne as a gift from the captain. But drinking alonesounds like a stupid idea.”

Heis laughing for good measure, but the way Shane’s eyes widen almostmakes him laugh even more.

“Uh,I mean. Are you sure you don’t want to keep it for a betteroccasion?”

Ryanleans in, not too much, but enough to insinuate something.

“Ican’t think of a better occasion than sharing it with you.”

Thereit is, the clear breach from fun flirting to serious flirting and hedoesn’t miss Shane swallowing.

“Imean… I feel really honored…”

Ryan’sheart starts to beat faster and faster as he is waiting for the“but”. It doesn’t come, however.

“Areyou sure?” Shane asks, eyes wide and stunned. Ryan frowns at him.

“Ofcourse I’m sure! Why wouldn’t I?”

Shaneblinks and actually blushes.

“Imean. You’re a pretty popular actor and singer and dancer. I’mjust a dude who takes pictures.”

AndRyan understands. His heart melts a little as he looks at Shane.

“Youwere never just a dude who takes pictures to me. I would love to hangout with you whichever way you want, Shane. Okay?”

Shaneonly nods, face pink.

-

Theyshare the Champagne and talk about shows and pictures and filming.Shane explains a bit about his camera to Ryan. He picks throughsome adjustments and talks about exposure and light with Ryanslouching on the bed next to him. Ryan doesn’t quite understandwhat Shane is getting at, until he catches a certain sentence:

“See,most people on these cruises are rich, privileged white people.Photographing them is easy because many cameras are made to taketheir picture. But when someone has brown or olive or black skin, youhave to fiddle with exposure a bit.”

Ryanwatches him with interest. They are about half way into the bottleand Ryan has taken off his blazer. He is still wearing the pink shirtand maroon pants after discarding the tie. Shane picks a lens andsits up to point the camera at Ryan. Ryan looks up, champagne flutein one hand, eyes wide and the flash goes off, less blinding than heexpected. Shane takes his tablet and swipes across the screen a bitand Ryan sits up to look over his shoulder. He sees himself, leaningon the bed, slightly surprised… and his skin glows.The brown tint fits the reddish outfit so well he feels his breathstop.

“See,babe?” He hears Shane say. “I told you. You’re a sight tobehold. Living, breathing art. I’m just some dude who takespictures.”

“Ah.”Ryan empties his flute and puts it away. He is familiar with thefeeling of inadequacy.

“Youthink I’m just hanging with you because you take good pictures?”

Shane’seyebrows twitch upwards.

“Uh…I don’t want to sound like I have a bad impressionof you- It’s just-”

Ryansmiles.

“Iget it. A bunch of people in the business have seduced you for you totake nice pictures of them?”

Shanechuckles.

“No,it never actually gets to the seducing. They just hang with me a bitand I take a bunch of pictures and then I leave.” He seems to sigh.“It’s okay. I’m doing it for the art. Not justso someone… I don’t know.Owes me affection, I guess.”

Ryanchuckles.

“Clearlythey don’t owe you anything. But in return, you don’t owe themeither, okay?”

Shaneseems to frown.

“ButI’m not an actor. My job isto take pictures of people like you.”

Ryansmiles softly.

“Andthat makes you a great person. You put so much thought in what you’redoing. Your photographs are beautiful. And you put so much work intothem. Work you really don’t have to put in just for a couple ofshow photographs.”

Hesmiles softly at Shane and it seems to work, because the other man isflushing and moving in his seat.

“I’m…I’m not doing it for attention.”

“Iget that.” Ryan whispers. He reaches out and runs a hand throughShane’s soft hair. “I guess you just caught mine. Do you… notwant it?”

Despiteeverything, Ryan wants to make sure. Shane could simply beintimidated by sitting next to someone who is kind of a “celebrity”,even though Ryan never saw himself that way. He doesn’t want Shaneto go along with something, just because Ryan is popular. Butapparently, his fear had been absurd.

Shaneblinks and laughs and leans in a little.

“Ofcourse I do. I have to admit, I kind of felt drawn to you from thesecond I saw you at the backstage door. But I’m just- And you are-Ryan are you even aware of how gorgeousyou are?”

Ryanchuckles.

“Well,that’s convenient. Because while I’m not sure what about youradmittedly strange face is so interesting to me… I have to admitI’m pretty smitten with you.”

Shane’seyes widen. Ryan sees him swallow hard and shuffle back a little.Ryan feels a sting of pain and discomfort.

“Imean… I’m sorry if that was too forward. I guess I just wantedyou to know that I’m not just some celebrity who wants nicepictures or is bored. I actually like you. And I’m happy to havemet you.”

Ryanmeans it. They have talked about a lot of random things and duringthat time, Ryan has realized that he and Shane fit togetherperfectly. Almost all of their interests overlap, they have the sametype of humor and the same taste in movies. The only thing theyreally disagree on is the existence of the supernatural, but their“fight” had quickly melted into an excited talk about theirfavorite Horror films.

“Ryan…you don’t want this. Me. You don’t want me. I’m a hugemess. I wanted to be someone and now I take pictures of richpeople on cruises, sucking up to them so they will leave me a nicetip. I’m a fucking failure. You have seen me. You know it.”

Ryanalmost laughs, but he doesn’t because Shane seems honestly upset.He takes the man’s hands.

“Listen,Shane. I really don’t have a negative opinion of your job. I’m abit upset about how little confidence you have in it, because I thinkit’s cool and you are really good at it. I still hope you will sendme that picture you took earlier. And if you don’t like me thatway, it’s cool. But if you are interested, I would like you to…well, stay here. Tonight.”

Shane’seyes seem huge in the low light of Ryan’s cabin.

“Really?”He finally manages.

Ryansmiles and leans in to press a kiss to the corner of the other man’smouth.

“Iknow you’re sometimes around a bunch of douches with too muchmoney, but just because I work on a stage doesn’t mean I sharetheir views on things.”

“No.”Shane says softly. “I mean… I didn’t think you would.”

Heglances at Ryan. It seems like he is trying to get across an apology.

“Iguess I was just worried that someone as magnificent as you wouldsettle for someone as average as… well, me.”

Ryan’sbreath stops for a second.

“Please.”He whispers. “Please don’t think you’re ever less thanperfect, okay?”

Shanechuckles a bit as Ryan leans in.

“Aren’tthose song lyrics?”

Ryansmirks, their lips almost touching. “Maybe?”

Shane’ssmile widens and Ryan feels a huff of laughter.

“Iwould love to stay with you, if you let me. And I will allow you totry and proof to me that I am nice to look at.”

Ryansnorts and cups the other man’s face in his hands.

“Ipromise I’ll do my very best, love.”

Shaneblinks and stares at him and then his tongue darts out to wet hislips. Ryan can hear the sound of Shane’s camera turning off as theman puts it aside.

“Okay.”Ryan feels the whisper more than he hears it. Shane’s breathtickles his lips. “Show me.”

Ryandoesn’t let him ask twice.

[the-erickson-labrynthian]

Nathan and the Allex Cube; Chapter Two, Part 2 of 2:

(Part One is here: https://the-erickson-labrynthian.tumblr.com/post/177639955117/nathan-and-the-allex-cube-chapter-two-part-1-of Also availble on my Wattpad if that’s easier to read for you: https://www.wattpad.com/user/BrandonErickson2 Happy reading!)

Part Two:

The water well was hidden across the south side of the property in a makeshift tarp nailed into the dirt, covering the top and making a circle along all sides, save for a small part that could be pulled open to enter. It was used by a few people in the small neighborhood of houses, but many of the nearest homes around were empty, so those who came were farther down the road, free from the smoke inhalation and the loud booming burst of an exploding machine. They were free from the ash.

In fact, the only dust they knew was the dust everyone knew. This kind wasn't ash, just dust. The blowing dust of a lifeless field. The smaller and rounder bits that were even harder to get out of the windows and out of the nose. And, while it wasn't ash, it burned just as bad. The sun baked everything around here, hours on end. Days on end, even.

There was no life here, just buildings, technology, and the well. A well that connected to an underground reserve that filled from an overflow in a dam far away. So far away, Nathan couldn't get there in a day. Not even a week. It wouldn't matter anyways, should he want to go there, that was for normal people. The cities were for the rich boys and the loved boys and the non-boys, not for the boys.

The dust—the only thing in the desert with life of its own— had already gotten into Nathan's eyes the second the door opened. That was Nathan's fault for opening the second a strong wind came. Renold was kind and offered to sweep it up. Nathan hit himself on the head and carried on. He looked at the tent a good block away, surprised after all these gusts and pounds and pounds of dust, that the tent still held on. That was the hidden genius and ingenuity that his father could put into what he built, should he build the right things.

Nathan learned pretty immediately when he moved here that it didn't matter where someone would put their face during the gusts. He started out thinking if he pulled his head down that the dust would miss him, but it followed the line of his skin surreptitiously, moving along with the curves until it could fling itself against his eyes again. Even if the dust did by some miracle miss his eyes, his hair would be ruined and tangled, and his back would be coated in the stuff.

At one point Nathan thought if he pulled his shirt up like he always did with the ash, that the dust wouldn't get in. The thing about dust was that it always got in. If there was a sliver of space, there was no safety.

No, these options wouldn't work. What Nathan figured out was that the best chance someone had was to close their eyes and just walk forward, and hope they knew where they were going. Nathan did just this, closing his eyes and heading in a straight line to the tent, like he had done a thousand times before. It worked, until he tripped over a rock, slamming his face against the ground, giving a whole new meaning to the term 'biting the dust', and making his bucket roll away.

"Dammit!" He cursed, pulling himself up. He wiped away debris from his face, but the sting remained, the burning scrapes along his arm and face that only showed up as a white line remained, and they hurt. Nathan had made himself bleed on accident and thought nothing of it, but if he scrapped a part of his body on the ground he would feel it for days.

After cleaning off his pants and shirt as best he could, Nathan went for his bucket and continued on with open eyes, sighing and muttering, "'Guess no system is perfect."

He rushed into the tent before another big gust came in and dropped the bucket under the red faucet connected to the pump. The perfect circle well that was next to the pump was only for show these days, something to look at as a mark of history. The real secret came out of the pump. Nathan grabbed the handle. It was cold to the touch, completely protected from the winds and the heat of the sun, though not from the dust. There was no such thing as protection from the dust.

Nathan tightened his grip around the handle and began pushing down, and then back up. A smooth system Nathan knew well. He made sure not to rush, just to move to a beat. Moving at a timed rate made the flow steady. It made the trip quick. It was already hard enough to fill one bucket. Nathan timed that it would usually be a good twenty-five pumps before the water would start coming out. It took that much energy and pressure to push it up from a place so far down—a place that really was free from the dust— and it took another twenty more just to get the bucket full.

This was a lot of work, but Nathan didn't mind, as long as he knew what he was doing. The best kind of work, in his mind, was clear and defined maintenance. There was nothing to mess up. Nothing to add nuance to. There was only one main directive. Pumping. Or even just lifting rocks and moving them over somewhere else. Anything that was a pattern. An easy cycle.

Nathan moved his whole body along with the pump, positioning himself to where he leaned down when the handle went down, and back up when it was up. He closed his eyes and let his hands do the work for him. A conversation went into his head. One from a long time ago, after one of the first few times he ever used the pump.

"Pump water? That's his special skill? Give me a break. 'Pain in my ass' is a better skill than that."

"His mind is simple, William, it gives him comfort."

"Simple is right on the money. Simple and stupid. I raised an idiot. He asked me once if stars were portals! And he was twelve!"

"You should have taught him more."

"He should've not been a dumbass. I can't teach a broken tool, and I can't fix him. Not here. If I could control how people act then I wouldn't even be here."

"If you chemically controlled how people behaved, you'd be just like them."

"Well, I-"

"You'd be the thing you ran from."

"I just want the best for my son!"

"He likes pumping water, he doesn't like dishes. Or laundry, or cleaning, he likes pumping water. Let him do that. I'll do everything else."

"Fine. Just don't complain about any extra work. I'm going to get a drink. I can't deal with this right now."

"I was never the one who complained..."

When the water of the bucket overflowed and sloshed onto the side of Nathan's leg, he stopped. Before grabbing the bucket, he took a moment to look at the pump again. He caressed it, just from one side to the other, and tapped on it a few times before sighing.

"Same time tomorrow?" He laughed.

No matter what the inanimate object thought, it was a 'yes' for Nathan. He picked up the bucket and steadied it in his hands. He watched the ripples in the water until they died down and his smooth reflection was revealed.

Nathan was almost horrified by what he saw. His eyes were sunken and heavily outlined in a darkness, with bags developing under them. He still had ash smudged onto his cheeks, possibly from today, possibly from days before. He hadn't washed himself properly in a while. He did what he could to look presentable, but there wasn't enough time to do more. His skin was usually a noticeable red, with a subtle tan that pushed out past that. Though, Nathan could never tell what was tan or what was dirt anymore. Everything that he used to be was coated in a thin layer of filth. Filth enveloped most of his life. Even his eyes, the most notable and bright part of his face with their grass color, had noticeable strain and dryness to them. There was barely any feature left that resembled a boy, other than the deep black of his hair, showing the only life left on his body.

Nathan brought himself back on task and took the bucket back to his house. Taking off his shirt, he used it to hold a cover on top of the bucket and pushed through the wind to the front door. After getting in, he went to the kitchen and set down the bucket, only to look up and see his father twirling around on the stool.

"What are you doing?" Nathan asked.

"Not running around naked like you, put your shirt on."

"I was just covering the water. You're the one who never got a lid."

William stopped twirling and faced Nathan, "Well, we don't have to worry about that anymore."

"What?"

William tilted his head to the other side of the counter. Nathan peered over to see five jugs that were even bigger than the bucket, filled to the brim with water. Nathan repeated, "What?"

"I know, right?" William laughed, "Took me like five minutes a couple nights ago. Why bother going out there and using the government-made well, when I can just drill a small one in my garage! Just a little drill that deconstructs into a tube, and then hook it up to a bike. Renold pedaled for maybe a minute tops before we had all that! I wonder why he forgot to tell you... well, either way, give me a day and I'll build something else so good no one will even need to pedal! Who needs the government?"

"I thought I got water?"

"Don't need 'ya anymore," William winked.

Suddenly, something else his father had said flashed into his mind, and repeated several times.

"Pump water? That's his special skill?"

Nathan tried to protest, "But, I was going to get a bucket for Renold to make-"

"Make food?" William interrupted, "Yeah, well a few nights back I also needed the flour... and butter... and sugar. Forgot to tell Renold it was gone, I suppose... needed it to make some more food for my bug traps. Last time I got a rat in there!" He exclaimed, "Their bones are useful as toothpicks, you know. You can just go pick some fruit if you want food."

"The trees are all picked Dad. They haven't given fruit in weeks."

"What? I thought we were in Malara?"

"That was last month, Dad..."

"Hmm. No wonder I am running out of liquor. 'Kay, you can just wait on the food then, right?"

Nathan grabbed his stomach, "I... I guess."

"Good. Maybe on the way I'll run over something," He laughed, "In all seriousness, I will be gone for a little while. Got my finishing touches on my big project, and I have to steal another barrel of whiskey. Shipping day!" He threw his hands in the air, "My favorite day! I want you to stay out of my garage, so I'm locking it. Until I get back, don't mess anything up. I don't want more smoke when I get home."

"Fine... Dad."

"Oh, when is the next night?"

Nathan thought about it. Night was something rare around his house, and the last one was a few weeks back. A small moment, a few hours where there was no light. The last night, Nathan played around the neighborhood, feeling how cold the road became, how the season seemed to flip to winter (something Nathan hadn't really experienced since they lived further north). Then he watched the sunrise. It was one of the few acts of nature that maintained its beauty so far into the wastelands where he lived.

The best part, however, was far beyond the sunrise. It was the stars. Nathan longed to see them again.

"Nathan?"

Nathan snapped out of his head, "I think it's tonight."

William scratched his chin, "Glad I was right, then. Had to double check with someone. Alright, I'll be going then."

"Have fun, I guess..."

"And Nathan?"

"Yeah?"

William paused, "Clean yourself up. There's plenty of water. Have Renold replace what'cha use."

Nathan held in a sigh, "Alright."

William smiled and got up, ruffling Nathan's hair before going out the front door. A few seconds later, as Nathan sat down, he could hear the car screeching past, barely hanging on. Nathan rested his head on the table.

"Pump water? That's his special skill?"

"His mind is simple, William."

Simple. When Nathan heard 'simple', he heard 'stupid'. When Nathan heard 'simple', he heard 'dumbass'. When Nathan heard 'simple', he heard 'not good enough'. Now Nathan didn't even have his water job. What could be even lower than 'simple'?

Non-existent.

Nathan bumped his head over and over on the table, and repeated those lines. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Nathan tried, a few years back, to build a potato clock. William said it was the first functioning thing he had made, and that he had done it when he was nine.

"And then I taught my father how to do it. And then Grandpa. Heck, I showed all of my friends. But I always made sure not to tell them the last step. Can't let those jerks do it all, can I?"

"Would be nice."

' William rolled his eyes, "Wouldn't prepare them for shit. Alright, step one, get two potatoes."

"Potatoes. Check."

"Step two, don't think like how you would, think like me. Better, basically."

"You're an ass."

"That's how it's done!" He laughed, "Step three, get the LED clock, the battery, those two wires, those two nails and those three clips and lay them out in between the potatoes."

"This seems a little complicated, shouldn't I just learn how to make something easi-"

"Shut up and do as I say!"

Nathan sprawled them out, only for William to take them and organize them.

"Alright, four, you're gonna want to stick your nails into the potatoes. Left potato is negative, right one is positive. Remember that."

"Alright," Nathan did as told before William slapped his hand.

"No! Put 'em straight in, you idiot! Listen to me!"

"You didn't specify-"

' "Five! Put the wires in on the opposite side you put the nails in."

"Alright."

"See these clips?"

"Yeah..."

"They have to connect to the wires and the clock. Do it."

"But which ones?"

He put on a smile, "Figure it out."

Nathan started stuttering, "B-but you just s-said-"

"Figure it out! You're thirteen! You can do it!"

That day, Nathan spent an hour staring at the wires and how they connected. He made one move to connect a clip to a wire and he got slapped on the hand again, but was still given no directions. He tried another clip and was just about to connect them before William pushed him aside, screeching, "What, do you want to blow up the clock in your face?"

Before Nathan could respond, William went into another ramble about his 'no-good son' and that he 'wasted a good clock'. Nathan watched as William put each piece in without thinking, and the clock immediately turned on. Nathan saw how they were supposed to connect, but didn't know what specific wires had to be in what place. He tried to ask, but every sound he made was met with, "Shut the hell up, you ingrate! Do you understand anything?"

Ever since then, Nathan has failed every task. Not one mechanic piece right. Not one right decision made. It would take him four tries to hand his father a wrench, even after already knowing what a wrench was. Nathan didn't know why he couldn't do anything right. He slammed his head against the table again.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Suddenly a familiar hand was around the back of his neck. The hand gripped tightly on the upper back and lower neck and started making circles. Nathan sighed and slumped backwards into his seat.

"Are you okay, Nathan?" Renold asked.

"Dad went out."

"Yes, he told me. That wasn't what I asked, you know."

"Well, that's my answer..."

Renold got closer and tightened his circles on a lower spot on the shoulders, asking quietly, "What did he tell you?"

"All about the thing he made so quick that immediately made me worthless."

"Oh..." Renold breathed in and finished the sentence with the breath out, "That stupid bike. I told your father he didn't need to build it. Told him you were happy to do it just fine every day. He told me to pedal away, and said that he was... 'proving a point'? I don't understand your father, but I have to listen to him. You know that."

"You're so much better than him, why do you have to..." Nathan took a second and changed his mind, "Nevermind."

"He is nice to me. Not nice enough to you, it's true, but he tries. He has a lot on his mind these days. It seems like you do too."

"I'm confused. All the time. And angry sometimes. And always stirring around. I just..."

"You know, I've heard this talk so many times, about how children grow. On a television you see it for every show. You feel. All the time. That's how it is, to be the age you are. You feel everything, and at the same time you feel nothing. Your father goes through the same thing."

"On a television? When was this?"

"It's been a while. You were younger. We'll get another one when we get the chance. Either way, it is a part of the way you are. The way you both are."

"So you're saying he hasn't grown up? He's just acting my age?"

"In some ways, yes. He can't help it. It isn't about maturity. It's about upbringing. It's about..."

"Circumstance?"

"See? You're thinking about it. Think about it. Try to feel for him. He likes to be on top, and there's a reason for the way that is."

"I know, you've told me a million times. I... I just can't see it, Renold. I can't grasp it. I don't know what to do."

"Maybe it isn't you to understand? How about this? Close your eyes and relax. Breathe. Let things be a little less heated than they can be. That is a good start to understanding. That is better than nothing."

"Will you help me?" Nathan asked.

"Of course," Renold reassured.

"Then, could you go a little lower?"

"Ha, of course, sir."

"You know you don't need to call me 'sir'."

Renold paused, "Well... there's some things we all can't help doing."

For once, Nathan understood.

[multsicorn]

fic: how do you make it for real (zimbits, 4/5)

for @queersherlockian, the third chapter of my much-belated@fandomtrumpshate fic.  also here on ao3.

Jack Zimmermann’s an adjunct history professor at Samwell University. Bitty works at Annie’s, at the start of what’s now his second year after graduation.

In this chapter: fake dating, and Christmas at the Bittles’ family home.

Jack meets Bitty at the airport the morning after the semester's over. He's not feeling awake, for once, though it's already later than his usual morning run's over. Worry over how the visit will go had kept him up all night long, but seeing Bitty, who's looking around, and waiting for him, a huge paper cup of coffee in his hand, is like a shot of calming medication and caffeine all at once.

"How are you doing?" Jack asks.

Bitty rubs his eyes with the hand that isn't holding his coffee, and yawns hugely. "Sleepy, mostly."

Jack nods, and shifts the weight of his carry on bag on his back. "Ready to get this show on the road?" He just hopes that Bitty's parents don't end up disliking him. He's starting one down, already, if they don't want Bitty to have a boyfriend at all - but, that's why he's coming, right? To help Bitty. Or, support him. Something. Like that.

"As long as no one's asking me to pull any more double shifts, I'm ready for anything. Bitty chugs his coffee for a solid few seconds, throat working, while flight announcements echo from nearby gates in the well-controlled chaos of the airport. "How about you, though? Cause if you're having second thoughts, there's still time to back out if you want. I'll figure out something tell my parents, and I guess if you didn't mind changing flights at the last minute already, then you could change them back again…"

"Thanks," Jack says, "but if you're in, I'm in."

Bitty's parents pick them up from the airport in Georgia in the sort of oversized SUV that editorials are written about. Jack knows he's being a hypocrite here; his own SUV is modest-sized, and environmentally friendly to boot, but it's still an SUV when all's said and done. He just can't quite like these people who make Bitty feel like he's not good enough.

"This is my boyfriend, Jack," Bitty says, in the arrivals area.

They're not standing about six inches apart, carefully not touching. Jack had offered his hand when they disembarked, but Bitty had hissed, "What part of small town Georgia do you not get?"

Now Bitty says, "Jack, this is my father, Coach Bittle, and my best friend, Mama Bittle." Jack shakes hands with both of them. Coach's handshake is hard, testing, and Jack meets it force for force until Coach lets go with a reserved but approving nod. Bitty's mother's handshake is loose, and her smile is warm.

"Call me Suzanne."

Coach takes the lead in asking Jack about himself in the car. What does he do, what's his workload like, what are his plans. He must've listed his whole curriculum vitae within the first five minutes or so of the drive, air conditioning humming under his voice, even in December. It's not long, when all's said and done. At least it seems that his answers are going to be accepted, not treated as provocation for the sort of attacks and subsequent defense that he'd feared they might've caused.

The grilling's so modest, in fact, that Jack's been lulled into a false sense of security by the time Suzanne says, "Enough of that, now, Richard. I have a question for our son." She turns to look backwards between the seats and deliver it directly. "What I want to know, Dicky, is why your father and I had never heard that you had a boyfriend before last week."

Bitty's hand has been lying in the cramped space between them in the back seat all this time, where they're pressed shoulder to shoulder by their respective carry-on bags. Jack feels Bitty flinch all along his side, and squeezes his hand to try to convey some comfort.

"Well," Bitty says, and then it all spills out of him in one burst. "ididntknowifyouandcoachwouldapprove."

"Could you repeat that?" Bitty's mother says.

"He said he didn't know if we'd approve," says Bitty's father, and Jack feels a wave of protectiveness come over him. Bitty's parents aren't saying anything bad, per se, not yet, but the fact that they're not responding to his fear by immediately trying to comfort and reassure him makes Jack want to - well. It makes him want to drop his gloves, which hasn't been an appropriate response for years. It makes him want to keep hold of Bitty's hand and take him right back to the cafe, where he's never second-guessed himself like this. But in fact all that Jack can do is look sideways at Bitty's face, and try to radiate love and support at him.

"Well, I don't know why not," Bitty's mother says. Bitty's fingers are trembling, under his. Jack can't stand not being able to help. "You're our son, Dicky. Of course we'll love you, whatever you want to do."

"I know, Mama," Bitty says. His voice is strangled, but no one says anything. It's some minutes, in fact, before anyone dares to say anything else at all, and Jack wonders how long the unspoken ceasefire of silence is going to last. For the rest of the car ride? All evening? Then out of nowhere, Suzanne starts to talk about a new recipe for fruitcake that she found on the internet. Bitty chimes in with his own opinion when she asks for it, looking and sounding for all the wrold as if the exchange of only a few minutes ago hadn't just happened.

And Jack thinks: this is what this family's like. Just as if the reevaluation my family did when I was nineteen never occured.

The Bittles' house, when they get to it, is festooned inside and out with strings of Christmas lights. There's an inflatable Santa on the lawn, and a perfectly conical fir tree aggressively bristling with ornaments in the living room: yet all the Bittles are unanimous that the decoration isn't done.

"We're still waiting for you, son," Bitty's father says. Bitty glows a bit like the lustrous gold star that he digs out of a stack of packaging that looks simply like a mess to Jack.

"You oughtn't to have."

Suzanne claps her hands, quick and light, close together. "Well, go on."

"Are you tall enough yet?" Bitty's father makes as if to grab him around the waist, and pick him up, but Bitty darts away. He stops, though, at the open-plan entrance to the kitchen, and pivots, hand still on the back of one of the wooden ladderback chairs there. He's eyeing Jack speculatively.

"Actually, I think Jack should lift me up this time."

Jack's too frozen to even shake his head 'no' - and besides. This is what he's here for, right. Bitty comes up to him and then brushes right past, so that he's - oh. So that he's standing right by the tree, and Jack follows behind him, helpless.

Bitty's waist is warm, a lovely solidity to it, even through his shirt. He's not that light - though it feels crazy powerful, to pick him up - and it requires enough concentration that Jack's not able to, say, whisper in his ear while he does it and ask 'what exactly are we doing here?' Bitty sets the star on the top of the tree, and Jack sets Bitty, flushed and beaming, on his feet and takes a couple steps back.

Bitty's extended family descends on the house in waves throughout the next morning. The whole Bittle-Phelps clan, and more Bitty explains, though Jack forgets every single name as soon as he says it. Bitty just explodes in a flurry of so much to say to his Aunt Judy, when she arrives, and Jack, seeing with relief that his services aren't needed anymore, retires to lurk in a corner.

Even the corner's occupied, it turns, by the most entertaining and relaxing group of people to hang out with at any party. There's a boy and two girls, named Taylor, Tyler, and Alex, wheeling around large plastic trucks perched on by Barbie dolls. Jack kneels down to get on their level. "Hi," he says. "You guys want another person?"

They don't have any extra trucks, Alex haughtily informs him, stubby pigtails bobbing, but they could use a crossing guard.

Turns out that crossing guards have to adjudicate doll murder, who knew.

Bitty reappears eventually, an impossibly fond smile on his face. The kids scatter when he says "Food's ready," but Jack's waiting for something else.

"Is that a personal invitation?"

Bitty holds his gaze. "I didn't know you needed one."

"Well." Jack brushes his knees off and gets to his feet. "I guess it's time to eat. Is there pie?"

"Is there ever," Bitty says, darkly. "But, hey. You looked like you were doing a really good job with my little cousins there."

"I was having fun," Jack says, honestly. "They're great kids."

"Yeah. Yeah, they are."

There's several more rounds of food throughout the day, as groups of people show up and leave, which is only one of the reasons Jack can't believe that he and Bitty have ended up at the end of the evening - Christmas Eve evening - cutting slice-and-bake cookies from a tube and slipping them onto a cookie sheet.

Suzanne had started the first batch with them, and then left with a significant look, with a wink, for God's sake. "Have a good night, Dicky."

Bitty's humming while he's slicing, and Jack can't take it anymore.

"I can't believe this," he says. "Eric Bittle, baking cookie dough from a tube. Is everything I know a lie?"

Bitty laughs. "I contain multitudes."

"I'm sure," Jack says. "Though you're kind of small for that - no, stop!" Bitty's brandishing an open bag of flour that he wasn't even using for the cookies, since flour's apparently never far in a Bittle kitchen. "Why, though?" he asks, as they return to the slice-and-place rhythm. The pan in front of him is filling up fast. "It's not as if you don't have more than enough cookies in the house." People'd been bringing different kinds all day, and tins now line the counter.

"I know, but this is a tradition." Bitty slices the last two cookie-widths apart, and turns to wash his knife in the sink. "D'you know, these were the first type of cookies I ever made. My mom always made a plate of cookies for Santa, and I wanted to help her, so - when I was three or four she got these, and let me put them on the pan after she cut them. I don't know if she didn't want to risk ruining good cookie dough, or what, but - yeah. Now you know my secret."

"Who would I tell?" Jack asks. Bitty shrugs, shoulders looking somehow smaller than usual, hunched under his blue button-down, back to Jack. So Jack steals a bit of dough from one of the cookies on the pan, and eats it noisily. "Mm, it's good."

"It is not," Bitty says. But his eyes are dancing, so Jack counts that as a win.

"Is so. Here, try it - " Jack tries to put a bit of dough in his fingers into Bitty's mouth, and Bitty doesn't dodge it the way that Jack must've been at least half expecting.

Bitty opens his mouth and takes the dough gently off Jack's fingers. He doesn't suck on them, or anything, which means there's still a little residue of sticky cookie dough left, which means Jack's first instinct is to suck it off, which -

Wow. Bitty doesn't seem particularly struck by anything that's just happened. At least, not judging from his face. He opens the oven smoothly, slides the two pans of cookies in, while Jack's insides whirl aroundin a torrent of questions. Is he leading Bitty on, or is Bitty leading him on, or are they both, or - what?

The house gets up ridiculously early on Christmas morning. It's not early for Jack, compared to his usual five-o-clock wake-up-and-face-the-day run, but he'd thought for some reason that at the Bittles' he'd be able to sleep later. Instead the basement that he'd shared with several kids, all in sleeping bags, is filled with excited and incompletely shushed chatter long before it's filled with daylight.

Jack would be angry about the basement-and-sleeping-bag setup on Bitty's behalf if he thought Bitty wanted to share a bed with him. As things stand, he's not sure whether to be more righteously indignant or more shamefully relieved that he doesn't have to carry the fake boyfriend act that far.

Eventually, the clock on the wall ticks to seven. The children thunder upstairs, yelling as they go.

First breakfast - Bitty and Suzanne share duties herding everyone, first breakfast, piles and piles of bacon and sausage and pancakes and biscuits and grits, and then presents.

Jack's glad that his presence here as Bitty's supposed boyfriend and not a guest in his own right means that he's been able to simply sign his name to Bitty's cards. He wouldn't know what to get anyone, though he did get Bitty's parents, collectively, as a combined Christmas and host gift, a painting that he'd commissioned from Lardo about Bitty. It's all gold and electricity, and it's called *Hot Stove*.

Bitty got his father a gift card to Dick's Sporting Goods, and received one himself from Crate & Barrel. They're each a round fifty dollars. "It's the thought that counts," Bitty says, into Jack's ear. Bitty and Suzanne exchange cookware the purpose of which Jack doesn't even pretend to understand, but they're both exclaiming over their presents. It's nice to watch.

Bitty got Jack a couple books. *Master & Commander*, the first of a series Jack's been meaning to get around to for a long time, but never has yet, and an autobiography of Saint-Exupery called *Wind, Sand, and Stars.* "I didn't nkow what to get you," Bitty says. "But these made me think of you."

"They're perfect," Jack says, in wonder. "Thank you. So much." He keeps stealing glances at Bitty, after that, as they go around the circle again and again. He does love these things, Bitty knows him, knows his research - but still, they make Bitty think of him?

Bitty opens Jack's present for him in the very last round. It's a huge box, and Jack knows it's not creative, but he hopes that Bitty doesn't care too much about that.

When Bitty lifts out the KitchenAid mixer, he looks like he's just an inch away from tears. "How did you know I wanted this?" he says.

"Well, you mention it at least once a week." Jack shrugs.

Bitty launches himself at him, arms coming around behind Jack's neck, kneeling unsteadily on his lap. "I can't believe this," he says. "Three hundred and fifty dollars! And shipping! Jack, you shouldn't have."

"But aren't you glad I did?" Jack simply has to put his hands on Bitty's waist, to hold them both steady. He doesn't have to rub his fingers over the firm flesh there, but he's only so strong.

"Of course I am," Bitty says, into the region somewhere between Jack's ear and his shoulder and his neck. "Who knows when I could've afforded it, much less when I could've justified the expense. But it's much too much!"

"I just wanted to see you happy," Jack says. It's too honest, maybe. But he's not kissing Bitty, just talking close, face-to-face, nose-to-nose. If he's going to kiss Bitty, which is seeming more and more likely by the hour, lately, he's not going to do it for the first time here, with all his family watching.

Later in the afternoon, all the adults assemble to go to church. They're letting some of the younger kids stay at home to keep playing with their new toys - "they won't be able to think about anything else, anyway." Bitty explains - so Jack's offered the option of staying home to babysit. "Someone has to."

"I'm going wherever you're going," Jack says, pitching his voice low so that only Bitty can hear.

The church is decorated more simply but just as thoroughly as the Bittles' house. It's a small brick building, covered with strings of plain white lights and evergreen boughs, footprint more than matched by a parking lot full of cars and exclaiming families. Jack feels awkward; on more than axis, he's conscious that he really doesn't belong.

"What should I do?" he whispers to Bitty.

"Bless your heart, you don't have to do anything," Bitty says. "Just stand up when everyone stands up, and sit down when everyone sits down, and you can sing along if you know the carols. It's pretty simple."

Jack nods. And Bitty seems, to all appearances, to be fine, and his parents are still right next to them, but - "Are you sure you want to be here?" he whispers again. Because this place is probably ground zero for the sort of prejudice that Bitty has to put up with at home, and Jack can't shield him from it, but - "Cause I could be an excuse to leave, if you want."

Bitty looks at him like he's crazy. "Do I want to be here? It's Christmas. Where else would I want to be? Now, hush."

Everyone's finished filing in; the sermon's about to start.

It's not half as political, or even as theological, as Jack had unconsciously feared it might be. Sure, he doesn't believe in Jesus (he probably doesn't even belive in God), but the pastor's talking about the importance of hospitality. Make more room at the inn, he says, invite God into your life. And invite people into your life, because God came along us… Jack doesn't follow all the arguments, but the Bittles seem moved. Make room for strangers, the pastor says, and make room for the people you love who are stranger to you than you know.

Bitty squeezes Jack's hand, where it's placed between them on the bench, and whispers in his ear. "D'you think they're hearing this?"

His parents. "Maybe. We can hope so, right?"

There are some prayers, after the sermon, and then come the hymns. Jack doesn't know any of them, but the harmonies swelling all around him are still nice. Bitty's voice must blend into the rest of the congregation's from any distance whatsoever, but from right next to him, where Jack's sitting, it sounds pure and clear as a bell.

The day's already turning towards evening by the time they come back home. Bitty's various aunts and uncles gather up their children one by one. Jack watches Bitty bid them farewell, standing in the chilly air, so bright against the fading into purple sky.

When the leavetaking's finished, they go inside, just Coach and Suzanne and Jack and Bitty. Almost like a little family.

"Anyone wanna watch a game?" Coach asks. "I've got a couple on the DVR."

"I'm gonna make a pie with Mama," Bitty says, aiming it more at Jack than at Coach.

"I can't believe it," Suzanne says. "How've you been home for several days already, and we haven't made a pie yet?" Bitty's mom is just as excitable as he is, it seems; no wonder he says they're best friends.

"Cause we've been making cake, and biscuits, and cookies?" Bitty says. "But - go on, Jack. I wanna cook with my favorite sous chef."

"Oh, I'm the sous chef now!" Suzanne says. "Who's getting too big for his britches!" but she shares a side-hug with Bitty.

"Sure, I'll watch the game," Jack says. Coach Bittle gives him a clap on the shoulder, like he's done something right.

Jack hasn't spent years in the States without managing to learn the basics of how football's played. Coach doesn't say much of anything for a while, and though Jack doesn't have anything to say either, it's a bit odd not having commentary on plays and calls. Jack's beginning to wonder why he was invited to watch the game at all, when, sometime in the middle of the second quarter, Coach leans forward, putting his hands on his knees, and lets out a deep sigh.

"I don't know how to do this when you're also a boy."

"Wait," Jack says, "What?" He can't figure out where this conversation is going, but it's pretty clear that it's nowhere good. At least, maybe, Bitty's not here to have whatever this is aimed at his face, for once.

"If Dicky brought home a girl," Coach says, "Then you know that I'd have to ask him how he felt about her."

I do? Jack thinks, but that probably wouldn't help Bitty's case here. He doesn't want to start a fight with Bitty's father, if it can be avoided. "You could… still ask him?" he tries. Because Bitty's not bringing home any girls, but he still wants to go back to his parents, apparently.

"Maybe I could do that," his father muses. "I think I'll think about it. That's an idea." Jack realizes, belatedly, that he's just suggested that Bitty's dad ask Bitty about his feelings for him, and, furthermore, that their supposed relationship is a fake relationship on which Bitty most likely doesn't have any real opinions, and, furthermore, that he's nevertheless quite curious as to what Bitty's opinions might be.

But at least if Bitty's dad has been nudged towards treating him in one way the same way that he'd treat him if he were straight, that's some sort of win.

"But," Bitty's dad continues, "I still need to ask you how you feel about him."

"Um," Jack says. His mind goes blank. "I think he's… amazing?" He's usually full of thoughts about Bitty, if he thinks about anything, but now the inside of his head's all stirred up, like a river with the mud stirred off of the bottom. "I just really like him a lot," he says. "I don't know how to describe it." Those statements might not be the most persuasive, or the most eloquent, but at least they're all true.

"You like him," Coach repeats with a frown, and a heavy emphasis. "Is that it?"

Jack doesn't know how he would've answered. What does he feel about Bitty? Too many things, he doesn't know what they are, himself, and even if he did he can't imagine how it'd be a good idea to tell Bitty's dad before he'd told Bitty.

Bitty comes into the room, then, color high, unannounced, all in a rush. "There you are, honey," he says. It takes Jack a second to realize that Bitty must mean him. "We're going for a walk now. Okay?"

Coach grunts his assent, and Jack's put on his coat and out of the door after Bitty before he asks "Are you okay?"

The purple sky's almost faded to black velvet around them. The chill, even with the wind that's picked up, isn't quite severe enough for Jack to have needed his coat. Bitty scuffs the ground, and looks at his feet, and says "I'll be fine." His voice is strained, like a string about to break.

"What's wrong?" Jack asks. "What happened?"

"It's my mom," Bitty says. He starts walking - there's no sidewalk. But there's no traffic, either, right now, so Bitty walks down the road and Jack follows, just a step or two behind. "She wanted to know why I didn't tell her that I had a boyfriend," and Jack's stomach drops to about his knees. It's his fault, this whole dumb idea, that he'd thought would help Bitty, somehow, but it's only making his vacation worse.

"So what did you tell her?" Jack asks. His heart is pounding, but - he's here for Bitty. "Since you couldn't tell her that's because it was fake."

Bitty throws an odd, unreadable glance back at Jack. His face is lit with - the whole street's lit with, really - fuzzy halos of rainbow colors, the reflections of the neighborhood's Christmas lights on every surface. "It's not even about that," he says. Jack's mental world tilts, or maybe rights itself again.

"What?"

"Well, who says that I would've told her anyway?" Bitty's pace has been increasing furiously, and despite the differences in their strides, Jack now finds himself working to catch up.

"You… wouldn't?" Though it makes sense, Jack supposes. He's just so used to seeing Bitty as open, because he sees him where he is.

"Sure, eventually," Bitty says. "I'd kind of have to. But right away…? Anyway, she was acting all injured about it. As if I'd somehow insulted her, personally, by not giving her up-to-the-minute updates on a part of my personal life that, sorry! Not sorry! I couldn't actually be sure she'd respond to in a non-awful way!" Bitty huffs out a breath, and suddenly stops. He's standing in a pool of pure white light, spilling off someone's Christmas tree.

"I'm sorry," Jack says. He is. "I know it doesn't do much good, and I don't know what else to say, but. I'm sorry that your parents aren't supporting you the way you deserve." Jack's palm itches. He wants to take Bitty's hand, but, why…?

"It's not that big a deal," Bitty says. He starts walking down the street again, kicking the deposits of dry leaves that are left by the curb as he goes. The crunching noises are calming, somehow. "I think that they're getting better. And, hey, who knows? Maybe by the time I finally have a boyfriend I want to take home for real, they'll be ready to be decent about the whole thing."

"So you're not planning on having a boyfriend for a while, then?" Jack asks.

Bitty walks onward, out of the light. There's a stretch of empty space, maybe a field, between his family's clump of houses and the next. "You never know," Bitty says. "I don't know what's going to happen, but - yeah. I don't want just anyone, you know. I'm holding out for Mr. Right."

Jack's breath catches in his lungs. Because caught and held on his tongue, are the words "I want to be Mr. Right," but - really?

But of course that's what he feels too. And that's what he always seems to feel, with Bitty. Bitty says the things that he doesn't know how to say, or even know how to think, until he's heard Bitty say them. Bitty makes him feel like he's where he's supposed to be, wherever they are. And he only wishes that he could make Bitty feel even a little bit of the same way, about him.

He doesn't realize that he's stopped walking, this time, until he hears Bitty says, "Jack? What's up?"

"Me too," he says, stupidly.

"What?" Bitty asks. Cause, of course. "You mean you're also waiting for Mister Right?"

"No," Jack says, "I mean, yes, I mean, I am, but - "

"You'd better start making sense," Bitty says. His voice is hard, like it almost never is, and Jack is trying.

"I mean," he says again, "that yes, I'm waiting for Mr. Right, but also, I think that you're it. I mean, him. I mean - " Bitty's hand is on Jack's upper arm, and whatever else that means, it probably means Jack should stop babbling. "Bitty? What do you think?"

"I think - you sure that you're not jerking me around?" Bitty's eyes are dark, and they're not even looking at Jack now. They're swallowed up by the darkness of the ground. "Because that's happened to me before."

"I wouldn't," Jack says. Also, who dare - ! But he'll never know; he's pretty certain of that.

"You couldn't," Bitty says, breath puffing out into the cold night air in what's probably the ghost of a laugh.

Then Bitty's up on his toes, and his lips are warm, so warm, against Jack's, and Jack barely gets to feel them, barely gets to appreciate the miracle of their firmness and give attached to Bitty, before Bitty's standing back on his feet again.

"Is that?" Jack asks. He doesn't know what to ask. Everything.

"Yes," Bitty says. "Yes, that's yes, I'll be your boyfriend - if you'll be mine," he adds, suddenly shy again.

"Of course," Jack says, though just two minutes ago it hadn't been at all. He thinks it has been an of course for some time, though, and he just hadn't known it till now.

[joulethieves]

👉👉👉 Number 9 for BOTH ask posts. All 4 charas/balvaan are non-negotiable.

9 [Headcanon Meme]: General Physical Contact:

Fran -

“Be still, Balthier,” Fran chides, her long elegant fingers flitting across her partner’s in calculated observance. Beneath her touch, Balthier seethes and tenses. 

“Do move along, then, would you? Ah–” Another hiss of discomfort. He hates to sass her given the circumstances he needs her help (when does he not, really), but by Ultima the splinter lodged into his finger is likely the size of a Salikawood root and no that’s not an exaggeration Fran.

The spiking throb in his hand is not much compared to the icy look she gives him here. “You will do best to practice patience. Deep, is this, and was your folly.” Her long nails press along the tired redness of his calloused hands for an easy way to pry the splinter from the flesh. Around them, lazy dust motes float aimlessly in the warm sunbeams weaving through the trees. Her touch is soft but only he knows the hardness with which they possess, her hands curved around the stock and foregrip of a crossbow or haft of a spear.

“Ow!” Balthier gripes loudly with no qualms to his partner’s ears. He bites his lip as he feels a sickening slide of wood from his flesh, and the familiar warmth of cure magic following. She spoils him, he thinks. Balthier sighs in relief, presses his thumb to the finger experimentally. “My thanks, Fran.”

“A souvenier,” she says, holding up the thin spike of wood to the sun. “I shall add this to the tally of your debt.” Her smile is in her eyes. Balthier’s is on his lips when he responds.

“I am forever in your debt, my dear. This is no news.”

Balthier -

“The theatre is a touchy-feely place. Now touch each other.”

Ffamran’s drama teacher at the Akademy always has the best quips, and the fifteen year old can’t hide his grin at rehearsal today. All in all, this is a place he can be most himself, delving into the roles of others, the worlds of others, the lives of others. He watches his fellow castmates struggle with the forbidden boundary of physical contact the Empire preaches so vehemently against in the minds of youths, and here, the drama professor attempts to beat it out of them. And if they’re going to put on a good show, may as well. With his feet propped up against the back of a chair in the near-empty theatre (against his professor’s strict command, but he is several seats up staring at the stage, so what does he know) Ffamran grins. The scene before him that his classmates are rehearsing is an impassioned dance scene of two star-crossed lovers in disguise at a ball, with just this one night to make last. 

And, with how far away they’re apart in this awkward dance, Ffamran wagers the only thing lasting will be the laughter from the audience. No, no. This simply won’t do.

Ffamran stands and walks down the aisle towards stage right, and his professor eyes him. “Ffamran. Your father bred you into ballroom dance. Care to help these two out?”

Ffamran grins. “I’d be delighted. Here,” and he walks up the stairs to join the two teenagers. He grabs the boy’s wrist and yanks him away from the girl with poorly-masked impatience he cares not to smooth over, “Let me show you how it’s done.”

He pulls her close, the crinkle in his eyes holding a smugness that doesn’t ever quite leave from that moment on.

Penelo - 

Night terrors plague the orphan and oft she is left ripped from her sleep by the sounds of her own screams. For long, she wakes alone in a room above Migelo’s Sundries, and shivers despite the dry desert warmth until sleep finds her again whether she wants it to or not. 

When Vaan returns from Lowtown after a six month leave of absence, after she thought he was dead, after Migelo refused to let her go down to the Lowers after the Imperials littered the streets and cast angry Rabanastrans down below, the first thing they do is push the two modest cots together to make one “big” bed. And the first night he is back, freshly bathed and finally fed after Faram-knows-how-long, she wastes no time wrapping herself around her friend’s middle like a vice. She feels his abdomen reverberate as he chuckles. 

“Pen, if Lowtown didn’t kill me, you just might.”

Penelo squeezes harder. “I thought you were dead. I’m gonna hug you like this, get over it. Also, you’re a good little spoon.”

But there’s nothing to get over, and they fall asleep just like that, like they will every night.

Vaan -

“Y’know, once you guys start becoming sky pirates, I’m gonna have to start charging you for this,” Vaan grins as he lifts a Lowtown orphan no older than seven from the ground by her arms and plops her above his shoulders. She squeals in delight. 

“Take me to the uppers! Let’s go! I wanna show Penelo how tall I am!” she demands, tiny dirty hands gripping his flaxen locks with more force than necessary but he doesn’t complain. 

“Roger that, captain,” Vaan responds, holding her thin ankles with his hands before taking off. Behind him, the shouts of other orphans call down the magicite-lit alleys of Lowtown.

“Come back soon! Me next! I wanna go to the fountain!”

At Migelo’s, Vaan kicks the door open and bounces in with the girl bobbing on his shoulders in child-light squeals. “Pen, look how tall Lotto’s grown!”

Penelo wants to say something about not kicking doors open of the shop where they live for free but instead just stares up at Lotto, who is smiling down at her with a gap-toothed grin. 

“Wow! How’d she do that! She must be eating her vegetables, huh.”

Both orphans before Penelo scrunch up their noses. “Ew, no way!” they both say in unison, and Lotto collapses onto his head in a fit of giggles. Vaan squeezes her ankles and winks at Penelo. 

“Anyway, gotta run. I have a few more passengers to pick up.”

“Mind the door, would you, Vaan?”

“Man, that’s a nice door,” he comments before kicking it open. He’s dashing down the street, childish giggles in his wake. 

9 [Domestic Meme BalVaan]: Do they act different when they’re in private/public?

Balthier’s limbs splay langoriously about the rickety seating in the Whitecap as he nurses his Madhu, Fran opposite him. Too long has it been since they’ve stepped foot in Balfonheim and he can say with some fondness that he’s missed it. Long has their journey been and long will it continue to be - back in the web of sea and sky pirates makes him feel a bit like his old self, before ugly wrought faces of the past decided to snake themselves back into his happy life of sin and debauchery. 

Speaking of sin and debauchery, Balthier wonders where the errant street-orphan that burrowed his way like an insistent little sandbug into his bed last night is up to on their first afternoon in the city of pirates. He thinks of the night prior, and the Madhu isn’t the only reason he’s grinning into thin air. My, a lithe boy indeed. He’ll have to thank Penelo for teaching Vaan to bend like that, no doubt. 

“Ah,” Fran’s lilted voice pulls him from his reverie, which he also must thank her for, because blood was running south fast at the memory, “it does not take him long to find the heart of Balfonheim.” Fran is looking down from their balconied perch at the door, and Balthier follows her gaze to land right on said errant street-orphan. Balthier chuckles at the sight as Vaan enters. Why, he can nearly see the boy’s heart hammering out of his chest with the pure adrenaline of it all. He’s nearly beside himself, mouth agape in a toothy grin, head turning left and right as if he were a hatchling chocobo fresh out of the nest. How cute. Balthier watches and thinks to beckon him up, but nay - Vaan has an awful knack for finding him whether or not he wants to be, it won’t be long until–

Oh.

Oh no.

Balthier nearly knocks over a chair in his haste to stand as he watches a group of nearly five burly sea pirates approach the sunkissed Dalmascan immediately with a bodily interest nothing short of licentious. Oh dear oh no this is not to happen, Balthier thinks as he weaves with little grace or regard through the packed tavern. How foolish he was to think Vaan would not be immediately regarded as - well, there are lots of plundering jokes to be made, let’s just say that.

By the time Balthier pushes aside a burly Bangaa pirate that snarls at him, he has reached a wall of muscle. A wall of five heaping hunks of muscle, adorned with tattoos and reeking of fish. Their backs are to him as they surround Vaan and why are they so tall? Suddenly Balthier is reminded why he hates sea pirates. Not a subtle lot, are they.

“I’m Vaan!” he hears Vaan say in a response over the backs of the oafs before him.

“Vaan, eh? New here, are ya? We’ll have t’show you a-”

“Ah, Vaan.” Balthier’s voice is a smooth ripple over the clanging cacophony of their choppy diction. Just because they live on the sea doesn’t mean they must sound like it. Rough and tumble, too much for his liking. Balthier slides through the sea pirates like ice across glass, and hooks an arm around the boy’s shoulders, tugging him close, very close. “Was wondering what took you so long. Come, let us drink.” 

“Huh?” Vaan grunts, and Balthier can feel five pairs of eyes narrow on their forms. 

“Bah,” one says. “Balthier always gets the pretty ones.”

Balthier wagers he should recognize the voice but cares not to rifle through the files of his memory and place why exactly he knows any sea pirate personally. He writes off the recognition as a mere stamp of his glorious reputation, and leans his head against Vaan’s. His eyes flit across his newfound audience and he grins.

“Sorry lads,” he says in a way that implies he most certainly is not. “Finders keepers and all.” And here, he presses his lips to the crown of Vaan’s sunsoaked flaxen hair. “Come along, Vaan.”

“Huh?” he says again as Balthier drags him off. “Hey, I was making friends. Did you see that one guy? He had a freaking eyepatch.”

“Vaan,” Balthier continues, guiding him up the stairs to where Fran waits with a grin, “You’ve a lot to learn about what friends mean to men stuck with only each other on a boat in the middle of the Naldoan Sea for months on end. You can thank me for teaching you the easy way.”

[obviouslyelementary]

Come what may

This is my proudest work so I am tagging all of you I don’t even care. Also, it was very hard to choose who would play as who, so just so you know, we have Prince as Satine and Anxiety as Christopher, just so no one gets disappointed.

Moulin Rouge AU with Prinxiety and side Logicality.

Warnings: sexual harrassment, slurs, implied prostitution, main character death

Tags: @dan-yuna @clutzyrevolution @liberalautisticnerd831 @purple-chaos-buttonmaster @inalandofmythandtimeofmagic @deafchildcrossing @prinxietytrash @idk-and-idc-and-idr @romanass @killerfangirl3 @prinxietyhell @the-sanders-sides @a-wannabe-canadian @velocifoxy @jetsnacks @prinanalogicality @the-prince-and-the-emo @prinxietys

PS: if you don’t want to read it for any of the reasons stated in the warnings, don’t worry, you don’t have to.

______________________________________________________________

Alex was nothing more than a poor, visionary poet.

When he moved to Paris, his father told him to never come back to London. He wasn’t planning to anyway.

Arriving in Paris, he met a theatre group, one of the bohemians. He fell in love immediately, that small group being exactly what he had been searching. A five man group that drank all night and wrote fantasy stories.

He was living the dream.

Soon, however, they were left without any money to continue their play. So, they decided to go to a big dance club in the middle of the region, called the Moulin Rouge. There, they could try to find someone to bank their plays.

“Prince. That’s who you need to look for. The dancer Prince” Logan, his best friend from the bohemian group told him, and Alex nodded, fixing his tie. “We will try to fix you a little meeting so you can convince him to bank us”

Wait.

Him?

Alex looked at Logan with wide eyes, but the man just smirked and rolled his eyes.

“This is the bohemian life, mate. No one cares” he said, and Alex relaxed a little before shaking his head and swallowing thickly.

“So… Prince… He’s the-”

“Prettiest” one of the other four said, smirking.

“Smartest” another said.

“And most stupendous dancer you will ever meet” the last one said, and Alex bit his lip.

“Does he have a name? A real one?”

“You will have to find out, dear Alex” Logan said, fixing his glasses and nodding. “Shall we go? None of us want to miss the CanCan”

“Nah, you are the one that can’t take your eyes off that beauty that is Plums, right boys?” one of the others said, and Logan frowned, a light blush over his cheeks.

“Shut it” he said, walking away, and Alex looked at the others.

“Plums is a dancer as well, Prince’s best friend” one of them explained, and Alex nodded, smiling lightly at his best friend as he walked away from them.

Time to go for it, he guessed.

-----

“Roman. Roman!” Marion asked, running around the backstage, eyes wide. When he got to the man’s room, he opened the door, frowning worried at his friend’s tired smile. “Roman, what are you doing here? The show starts in half an hour”

“I know…” he mumbled, sighing and rubbing his eyes. “I am not feeling very well. I can’t stop sweating and because of it I can’t put my make up on”

“Oh…” he mumbled, rushing to his side and placing his hand on his forehead. “Ro, you are burning up. Do you want me to tell Harold…”

“No. I will do the show” he said, quickly, sighing deeply. “Can you… Get some cold water to clean me up and help me with make up?”

“Okay” Marion mumbled, biting his lip before walking to the bathroom and getting some wet cloth and a bowl of water.

Slowly, they cleaned Roman’s face and applied all the makeup needed, and the man smiled, checking the result on the mirror.

“I feel so much better as Prince” he mumbled, and then looked at Marion, who smiled back. “Are you ready, Plums?”

“Of course” he said, happily, and walked with Roman out of his room. “Do you think Logan will come tonight?”

“He always does dear” Roman assured, holding his best friend’s hand and squeezing it with a smile. “I think you should just go with him one day. You two can be really happy together”

“I don’t want to leave you here alone” Marion pouted, and Roman chuckled, nodding.

“Of course not. Come on, let’s go”

-----

When they arrived at the Moulin Rouge, Alex was impressed beyond belief.

“This place is… enormous.” He mumbled, and Logan chuckled as they found a place in the crowd around them.

“You haven’t even seen the show” he said, smirking widely and looking up as an old man appeared from inside a small staged house over the crowd.

“ARE YOU READY FOR THE CAN CAN?” the man yelled from up there, and all men screamed, while Alex and Logan stared , quietly. Alex moved closer to his friend, feeling a little breathless in the middle of the crowd, but then a beat started and all the men started to move away from the middle of the dancefloor, and both Alex and Logan followed the flow to the sides.

Where’s all my sold sisters

Lemme hear ya flow sisters

Hey sister, go sister, soul sister, flow sister

Hey sister, go sister, soul sister, go sister

Alex’s eyes widened as he watched women and men coming out from the most unusual places, singing, dancing, and suddenly the music’s beat started to get some pace and all the men walked to the middle of the dance floor again, while him and Logan stood by a corner, staring. Logan seemed unaffected, while Alex was… breathless.

We do the CAN CAN CAN

We do the CAN CAN CAN

The song was loud, there were women and men all around, dressed in suits or in wild clothing, and Alex moved even further away from the mess, eyes wide, until he hit his back on something and turned around, only to have a woman’s skirt on his face. She was singing and dancing around him, and he was getting dizzy with everything that was happening, and before he noticed he was in the middle of the crowd, dancing and a little more drunk than he should be and how the hell had someone even put drink in his mouth without him noticing?

And suddenly, it was all over, and Logan was at his side again, filled with lipstick marks on his face and neck and a few hickeys. Alex raised his eyebrow, smirking, but Logan just waved it off, cleaning the lipstick with his suit.

“Come on. We have to get a good place so you know who Prince is” Logan said, pulling Alex inside the club and looking around, smirking when he found a small cabin that was perfect for watching Prince’s show.

-----

“Time for the show, my dear” Harold said, smiling at Roman, who smiled back, fixing his sparkling corset. “You will do as perfect as always”

“Thank you Harry” Roman said, smiling with those perfect white teeth, before he fixed his feather crown and his jewels. Slowly, he walked to the center of the stage and made his starting pose, the entire room dark so no one would see him there.

The song started, and he smirked in the provoking way he always did.

‘An actor. That is what you want. You are doing this because you want to be an actor. You can do this. One more time, like we practiced.’

The French are glad to die for love

A light illuminated him in the middle of the stage and the room went completely silent. He smirked, glad that he couldn’t see any faces, only shadows of an enormous crowd.

His heart was beating fast, he was dizzy, he felt like throwing up.

A kiss on the hand may be quite continental

But diamonds are a girl’s best friends

Roman… No. Prince. He was Prince now. The Sparkling Diamond. There was no more Roman.

Prince looked around, starting to move on the stage, singing, waving his hand in front of the men’s faces, showing off his white gloves and his expensive rings. Slowly, he made his way to the other side, still singing, waving his hips, while a swing moved down from the ceiling. That was for the second act.

But square cut or pear shaped

These rocks don’t lose their shape

Diamonds are a girl’s best friends

He moved down, stepping in the middle of the crowd, walking around the men, touching their faces, winking, and honestly he did not understand how so many people loved him at night, as Prince. He was nothing more than a man in heels and yet… When he was like this, he attracted crowds.

No time for thoughts, Prince.

He stepped back on the stage quickly, and suddenly Harold was there, and they were engulfed in the middle of several plums and he started changing as he was supposed to.

“Where is the duke?” Roman asked, pulling his corset off and grabbing the other one. Harold looked around and moved a few feathers away, showing a little cabin in a corner.

“The one that Logan boy is waving his cloth to”

Roman looked through the plums and hummed, seeing the bohemian waving his blue cloth over a skinny man that didn’t seem to want to be there in the first place. Roman frowned, confused, but nodded anyway, looking back at Harold.

“I saw him” he said, smirking. Harold smiled back.

“He will make you a star”

“A star…” he mumbled, biting his lip before regaining his attitude and smirking. “A star!”

He emerged from the plums once again, changed completely, and danced around one again, heading for the swing, watching his new tail of beautiful fabrics adorned with precious rocks. He then started to swing, smirking to the boy Harold had pointed to, as the swing went up in the air, coming close to him by his swing and winking.

Diamonds are a girl’s best

Diamonds are a girl’s best

Diamonds are a girl’s best friends

Several other singers and dancers started to moan and sing as well, letting Prince to swing back and forth in the duke’s direction, until the last part of the song came up.

Cause that’s when those louses

Go back to their spouses

Diamonds… are a… girl’s… best…

He couldn’t breathe.

Looking up, Roman gasped in thin air, throat closing. He felt dizzy, the world blackening around him, and he closed his eyes, losing consciousness.

When he fell, he only heard Marion yelling his stage name and he blacked out completely.

-----

“Okay, keep calm. Everything will be great” Logan assured, fixing Alex’s tie and smirking. “He was already interested. Now you just go and impress him with a great poem and we are done!”

“O-okay” Alex mumbled, biting his lip before Logan pushed him inside the elephant’s room. He walked inside, swallowing thickly, specially because when he did, Satine was laying on the bed with a black corset that left little to imagination, black heels, a thigh, heavy makeup…

He was a very handsome man, indeed.

“Oh… There you are. I thought you would never arrive” he said, slowly, standing from the bed and making his way to Alex. Alex swallowed thickly, again, feeling his body trembling in nervousness and anxiety.

“I-I… H-hello I-” he tried, but soon Prince was close enough to touch, and he was putting his hands on Alex’s waist and pulling him closer and oh my…

“Shhh. No need to speak. I know who you are” he whispered, tilting his head, and Alex bit his lip, staring with wide, innocent eyes at Prince, who was slowly moving his hands over the smaller man’s waist and pulling him closer. “Tonight it’s all about what you want”

“W-what I w-want?” he asked, shakily, while Prince moved closer, his heart beating faster, butterflies rushing around in his tummy, his breath shaken. “I-I-I want to s-s-say something!”

Prince stopped his advance and raised his eyebrow before he nodded, smiling lightly.

“Fair enough” he said, and Alex stepped away, walking away from Prince and swallowing thickly before taking a deep breath, back to the dancer.

“My gift is my song… and this one is for you

And you can everybody that this is your song

It may be quite simple but, but now that is done

I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mine

That I put down in words…”

Alex froze, for a second, swallowing thickly before he turned back, only to see Prince staring at him from the bed, eyes wide as he pay close attention to what was being sung.

When had he started singing?

Alex wasn’t sure.

“How wonderful life is… Now you’re in the world”

He was in love.

He had seen the man once, watched him dance around and sing for other men’s pleasures, and yet, there he was, singing a love poem to a stranger that was the most beautiful and talented human being he had ever seen.

And the worst… He seemed to be falling in love as well.

“I sat on the roof and I kicked off the moss Well some of these verses, well they've, they've got me quite cross But the sun's been kind while I wrote this song It's for people like you that keep it turned on”

Now, Prince was standing up while Alex pulled him up by his hands, their eyes connected as he sang, Prince’s eyes shining brighter than the moon, and Alex was smiling like the stupid man in love that he was, because he could see how he was affecting Prince and maybe, maybe all of this was going to change his life somehow.

“So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do You see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen”

Alex grinned widely as he saw Prince blushing behind all the makeup on his face, and slowly they were dancing around the room, and the writer had never felt so complete, so full of happiness before. This was why he had come to Paris in the first place. To know and feel love in its rawest form.

“And you can tell everybody this is your song It may be quite simple but now that it's done I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind That I put down in words How wonderful life is, now you're in the world I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind That I put down in words How wonderful life is, now you're in the world”

They were close. Oh so close. Prince was speechless, staring at him with wide, shining eyes, and blushing cheeks. Alex was smiling, widely, happily at how he had reacted. Prince’s eyes slowly narrowed to a calmer expression and he smiled fondly, looking at Alex’s eyes all times.

“I never thought… A duke would be so… Poetic” he mumbled. “I think I’m in love…”

“A duke?” Alex asked, smiling, too focused on Prince’s eyes. “I am not a duke… I’m a bohemian poet”

The mood completely broke. Prince’s eyes widened again and he pushed Alex away, scared.

“You’re not the duke?!” he asked, loudly, and then they heard voices coming from outside.

‘I am very sorry, duke. I think she confounded you for some random boy’ they heard Harold speaking, and Prince gasped, before pushing Alex out of the elephant.

“Get out of here! Get out!”

“B-but I… I want to know if you could bank our play!” Alex said as he was being pushed back, and Prince growled at him.

“Get out of here before anyone sees you! If the duke sees you in here there will be no play and there will be no life for me!” Prince said, gasping as the door started to open and pushing Alex behind the curtains. “Stay here” he growled and turned back, stroking a pose.

“Duke!”

-----

After that horrible confusion, where all the bohemians had to come in to save both his and Alex’s skins, Roman was a mess.

He laid down on his bed, tired, dizzy, while Marion sat next to him, cleaning his face and humming softly. Roman looked at his friend, smiling weakly.

“How was your night?” he asked, softly, and Marion shrugged, smiling back at him.

“Well, way less confusing than yours”

“Did you find Logan?”

An uncomfortable silence surrounded them and Roman bit his lip.

“I did. He had several hickeys” he mumbled, shrugging weakly and cleaning the cloth on the warm water before cleaning Roman’s forehead gently. “I know it’s hard to expect, in a life like this… But I…”

“You know the Can Can dancers are crazy. Maybe it wasn’t even his fault” Roman said, but Marion just smiled and shrugged.

“Don’t worry. The night was fun nevertheless. I was with him the whole night, until he left to help his friend to get inside your room” he giggled, smiling fondly at Roman. “Is it bad, falling in love with a bohemian?”

“It is terrible…” Roman mumbled, biting his lip and looking away. “Even though… I might be going through the same path”

Marion smiled and brushed Roman’s hair back.

“Don’t worry. That’s how love normally works”

Roman didn’t want love. He wanted a life out of that hell.

-----

How he had done it, Alex had no idea. But now, he was on top of the elephant, singing with Prince again as the dancer avoided his advances. At least, he tried. Suddenly, they were inside the elephant again, and they were kissing, breathless, intense.

Alex had never felt more complete.

“I love you” Prince mumbled, and Alex nodded, holding his waist, looking at his eyes.

“What is your real name?” he asked, softly, caressing the dancer’s face, stealing him a kiss and making him smile.

“Roman. That’s my real name”

“Good…” Alex mumbled, looking deeply into Roman’s eyes. “I was tired of calling you by your stage name. I love you too much for that.”

“You know this will end in hell for us both, don’t you?” Roman asked, taking Alex’s face in his hands and brushing their noses together as he closed his eyes. Alex watched him in silence. “I can’t give up on this. I can’t… Let go. I need this. I need the duke. I need the money”

“Why? I can make you happy without any of that” Alex said, holding Roman’s waist, and the dancer smiled weakly, shaking his head and opening his eyes.

“I have a dream, Alex. Just like you. I want to be a star. I can’t give that up. It’s the reason I started with all of… this… to begin with”

“You can be my star” he mumbled, biting his lip. “Please, Roman. I see how much you suffer in here. You need to come with me… Be happy with me”

“I can’t Alex” Roman sighed, stepping away, walking to the bed and being followed by the poet. “I have an objective. I won’t give up on it”

“Love is all we need”

Silence.

“I know”

-----

“You can’t continue with this any longer, Alex” Logan insisted as they walked through the Moulin Rouge backstage. All the dancers were there but Prince, who was having his night with… the duke.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Logan” he groaned, sitting down in a dark corner. Logan raised his eyebrow before he walked to the dancefloor, nodding to the band. The tango started, and he hummed as he walked to Plums, who was watching him attentively, eyes wide and innocent as always, hiding all his real emotions.

Then, the song really begun.

“First, there is desire” he said, as both him and Plums, Marion, walked in circle in the middle of the stage, until they met, holding each other in the first tango position. “Then… Passion” he continued, taking Marion’s wrist and turning him around, pressing their bodies together and moving his nose over the dancer’s neck. His sweet, sweet perfume still lingering on his skin, Marion’s body moving fluently with his own as he slowly melted in his hands. “Then, suspicion” he said, pulling Marion to be face to face with him, holding his wrists tightly. They danced, more harshly now, and both more serious than anyone in the room. “Jealousy, anger, betrayal” Logan added, turning Marion with his hand until he was laying down on the ground, the dance becoming way more intense at each word. “When love is for the highest bitter, there can be no trust” he said, pulling Marion up again and holding his hands behind his back, while the two stared at each other, their eyes on fire. “Without trust, there is no love!” he said, louder this time, pressing their bodies together in the middle of the stage, Marion staring at him with those lustful, dark eyes. “Jealousy… yes, jealousy… will drive you… mad…” he finished, pushing Marion away as hard as he could and making him fall in the arms of a few dancers around, his eyes showing fear and betrayal, something Logan was incredibly used to by now.

They stared at each other quite often like that.

“Roxanne

You don’t have to put on that red light

Walk the streets for money

You don’t care if it’s wrong or if it is right”

Logan walked around the dancers, keeping his eyes in Marion, who was now standing, dancing with one of the other dancers in the stage, pressing their bodies together, while constantly watching Logan with his dark eyes. Alex watched it all unfold bothered, quiet, biting his lip at every word, fighting back the tears, the fears he felt.

What if Roman didn’t love him?

What if Roman gave up?

“His eyes upon your face

His hand upon your hand

His lips caress your skin

It’s more than I can stand”

Alex cried out, standing up as Logan continued dancing, singing to his lover as Marion danced with all the dancers in the room, teased them, teased him, the room getting hotter and the air getting denser.

Roxanne

Why does my heart cry?

Roxanne

Feelings I can’t fight

You’re free to leave me

But please don’t deceive me

And please, believe me when I say

I love you

Roman could see the madness in the backstage by the tower him and the duke were staying. He focused on the light song that came from the club while the duke put his hands on his naked waist, moved them over the body as he wished, pressed his lips to his skin, smelled him, pressed their bodies together in a way that would never feel right.

Not when Alex had been the one to do it before. Not when Alex was in his mind.

“I will make you an actor” the duke whispered against his ear, and Roman closed his eyes, holding onto the rail in front of him. “I will make you… a star”

He could cry. He felt his stomach turning, his eyes burning, his heart being ripped apart, because he knew this would hurt Alex, would break him inside, but he needed it, he had to be strong, he could do it.

“What about the ending?” he whispered, and the duke hummed, smirking against his ear.

“Let them keep their fairy tale ending”

Roxanne

Why does my heart cry?

(You don’t have to put on that red light)

Feelings I can’t fight

(You don’t have to put that dress tonight)

Logan grabbed Marion’s arm, pulling him away from whoever he was dancing with, pulling him close, not even dancing with him anymore, simply holding him tight, staring at his eyes.

“What do you want?” Marion asked through his teeth, the song still playing behind them. “I thought we were over. You were very clear”

“This is your fault. This life you live, I can’t bear it” Logan said, pressing his face to Marion’s neck while the dancer moved his head to the side, not being able to hold back, to be strong. “You dancing to all those men and women, selling yourself like this… This isn’t a life you deserve”

“It is the life I have” Marion said, looking down at Logan, eyes sad, but decided. “If you can’t live with it, then maybe we were never meant to be”

They stared at each other, quietly, eyes burning with rage and passion and love.

They couldn’t have any type of love.

Roxanne

Why does my heart cry?

(You don’t have to put on that red light)

Feelings I can’t fight

(You don’t have to put that dress tonight)

Alex walked out of the club, unable to stay inside, unable to deal with all those dancers and music, the guilt, the rage, the jealousy corrupting him inside, making him want to scream, to cry, to throw it all away and destroy everything he and Roman had.

Then, he looked up at the tower, and saw him there, beautiful, staring down at the street, staring at him, while stranger’s hands moved over his body, and Alex looked down again, tears filling his eyes, hands curling up in fists.

He didn’t need Roman. He didn’t need love. It was all a joke. An evil joke.

Come what may…

I will love you

Until my dying day

“No” Roman whispered, staring down at Alex as he stared back, his entire body rejecting the duke, his heart speaking louder. The duke froze behind him, and looked over his shoulder, growling deeply.

“The sitar player…” he mumbled, and then pulled away, making Roman gasp and fall on the ground as he was pushed down, his legs giving out. He was weak. He was so, so weak. Then, he felt the duke’s hand moving down his neck, sliding between the skin and the necklace he wore, and suddenly he was being chocked, his breathing failing him again, throat closing again. The necklace then broke and the duke’s hand came full force over his cheek, making him fall on the ground with a gasp, his eyes wide and scared because he was so, so weak.

“No…” he moaned out, dizzy, frozen out of pure fear, while the duke moved down, pressing his hand to his neck, chocking him harder while he touched him, started removing his clothes, and he tried to fight, he tried to move but he couldn’t and there was so much going on and Alex and everything was fading out and everything was becoming black and Alex Alex Alex no no no.

And then it was over.

He gasped out a breath and opened his eyes for a second, seeing Leo, one of his friends, looking over him with a piece of wood, and he passed out completely.

-----

“Please, Alex, just listen to me! I did nothing!”

“I don’t want to hear it, Roman!” Alex cried out, tears in his eyes as he gathered his clothes. “You don’t want this, you don’t want me. All you want is money and fame. So go get it!”

“That is not true!” Roman begged, reaching out for his lover. “Please just listen to me! I l-”

There was a gasp, and Alex turned around, eyes wide. Roman kneeled down, holding his throat, and Alex moved closer, holding him.

“Roman? Roman!” he tried, but soon the dancer was passed out in his arms again. “Help! Someone help please!”

Quickly, both Leo and Marion were getting inside the room and pushing Alex out as he cried out, desperately.

Something was wrong.

When Roman woke up again, Harold was there, and Marion was cleaning his forehead, tears in his eyes as he smiled weakly.

“Ro…” he said, softly, and Roman groaned, sitting up slowly and looking at Harold.

“This has to stop” Harold said, a few minutes later, when they were alone again. “You need to stop with this love nonsense and go back to being Prince”

“No. I found someone that loves me for me. Alex wants me as I am!” he said, standing up, grabbing his clothes. “I will run away with him! We are leaving and we will be happy together! I am tired of this life, of being like this Harold! I have a chance now! I have a love! I h-”

“Roman, you are dying”

Roman froze, eyes wide, and slowly turned around, facing the owner of the Moulin Rouge.

“W-what?”

“You are dying Roman. You are sick” he said, lightly. Roman could see the pain in his eyes. “And if you don’t accept the duke’s wishes, he will kill Alex”

Roman felt his world crashing under his feet. He sat down on his bed, staring at nothing as tears filled his eyes, his heart being ripped apart. He was… he was dying… he had no way of recovering… the plague… and even so, Alex was in danger…

“The show must go on” he muttered, looking back at Harold, tears filling his eyes. Harold smiled weakly and nodded. “Call Marion here. I need his help”

-----

The ending changed again. The show had to go on.

Alex was on the backstage. He had to find Roman. After everything they had gone through… After everything they had accomplished… after all the promises and nights together… it was all a lie.

Well then. He was paying for the service.

He found Roman almost in the stage. They were under it, and as he stepped to talk to him, the platform they were on went up to the place where the show was happening, and both of them appeared to the audience, the duke in the front roll.

Roman was laying on the floor, weak, crying, vulnerable and exposed, and yet Alex was able to stare at him through his tears and take the money out of his pocket.

“This is yours” he said, bitterly, and Roman shook his head, eyes wide, tears ruining his makeup, before he threw the paper on his head, staring down at him in disgust. “This is for all of you to know about the story of how a whore could fool a kind hearted man”

“A-Alex p-please” Roman begged, quietly, and Alex stared down at him, tears falling from his eyes.

“Good luck in becoming a star” he whispered, before he walked out of the stage, staring at the duke while he walked past him. “He’s all yours now. I hope you have fun with your little toy”

He then walked away, right to the exit. And then…

“Never knew… I could feel like this”

Alex froze, eyes wide, before he slowly turned around, only to see Roman standing in the middle of the stage, weak, soft, ruined, and yet beautiful. So, so beautiful.

“Like I’ve never seen the sky… before

Want to vanish… inside your kiss

Seasons may change

Winter to spring…”

Alex was staring at him, and Roman was staring back, broken, but so strong.

“I love you” he whispered, and Alex felt his heart beating again, his body being completed, just like that first time, just like before.

“’Till the end… of… time”

They stared at each other for a little longer, before Alex swallowed up his hatred, now long gone, and sang.

“Come what may”

He stepped forward.

“Come what may”

Roman moved down the stage.

“Come what may!”

I will love you!

I will love you!

Until my dying day!

Come what may!

Come what may!

I will love…

I will love you

Until my dying day

They met in front of the stage, and suddenly there was screaming and Logan fell from the roof somewhere. Both lovers turned around, staring scared as a gun fell down onto the stage, and all of the dancers and actors yelled together with the crowd, while Alex and Roman held each other tighter, watching everything unfold together, surprised but happy, full again.

They had won. Love… had won.

-----

The curtains closed.

The roses fell.

The show was over.

Roman held onto Alex, dizzy again.

This time, he knew, it was the last.

Alex was smiling, so beautiful, so happy, but everyone around them was quiet.

Especially when Roman fell.

“Roman?!” Alex asked, kneeling next to him, holding his face gently, keeping him close. “Roman?! What is wrong?!”

“I’m… sick” he mumbled, coughing, blood leaving his mouth and covering his hand in red. “I’m… so sorry Alex”

“N-no you will be okay” Alex said, his eyes wide, filled with tears once again as he held him closer, caressing his face, desperate. “We-we can find a cure! I know we can! You will be fine! You will be f-fine…”

“I love you” Roman whispered, moving his clean hand over Alex’s cheek, caressing it, only love and pain in his eyes. “Please… go on. Live your life. You are… an incredible… poet”

“N-no… R-Roman… Please…” Alex whimpered, his eyes closing and letting the tears fall down. “Please… we are together now… Please…”

“I will love you… until the end… of… t…” he stopped, and Alex looked down, erupting in sobs.

“Roman! ROMAN!” he yelled, hugging his dead body against his chest and sobbing harder than ever before, while all their friends watched in pain as a man mourned his lover.

It was over. The show wouldn’t go on.

-----

“The greatest thing

You’ll ever learn

Is just to love

And be loved

In return”

[sleepywinchester]

Mysterious Hazelnut Pt. V

Summary: Coffee have always been key to lighten up your mood in cloudy days. Specially when its made by your favorite barista.

Author: @sleepywinchester prev. deanwincehster-af | Mobile Masterlist |

Pairings: Barista!Sam x Plus Size!Reader

Words: 1.5k+

Beta: @latinenglishfandomblog

Warnings: None. Unless you think Tequila is something to get warned about.

A/N: Today is February 6th and I’m already doing some Valentines ish chapters. Don’t mind me, I’m just being festive. Lol. | Feedback is always appreciated it! <3

Masterlist

Everyone had good days and bad days, it was something normal. In your case and for your sometimes extremely bad luck, things always came heightened. There weren’t good days, they were out of this world great days. But the bad days? They were the worst. Bad mornings like having some spilled coffee or forgetting your keys wasn’t your thing. No. Situations like this only backed up more your theory.

The universe must have single hand picked you to get the worst days. Sometimes you thought of going to see a psychic and getting into all the crystal meditation. Everything that helped your bad luck but yet again you ignored all those possibilities. You wouldn’t waste time in such things knowing that; it wasn’t bad luck, it must be bad karma. Out of all the days they could have picked to fire you, they picked today. Your twenty two birthday, not other day than February freaking fourth teen.

This morning waking up with Sam was gleeful. With breakfast at bed and a fresh bucket of roses, it was a great sign this day would go perfect. At least that’s what you thought several hours ago. After almost three years of working your ass off for a clothing store downtown. Unbelievable. On your way back to your place, the thought of all the sides effects of not having a job meant never left your mind. You had bills, school and loans to pay.

“What am I gonna do now?” You breathed out stepping out of the bus.

In that moment your cellphone buzzed inside the pockets of your jeans. An exhausted sigh crawled up your throat as you took the device out. It was a message from Sam.

‘Hey, babe. Coffee shop’s full, think I’m gonna get out a bit late. Picking you @ 9? I love you.’

Suddenly knowing from Sam took away the suckiness of this day. Knowing he loves you; well, that made you feel on cloud nine. While reading his message a smile grew on your face.

“I’ll be waiting. Love you,” you replied.

- - - -

“Mel?” you walked into the apartment.

“In my room!” She shouted.

Leaving your bag and coat on the entrance, you strolled through the small hall and into Melissa’s room. She was curling her hair for tonight’s double date with the Winchesters. She’s been dating Dean for some months now, slightly less than what you’ve dated his younger brother Sam. Your best friend dating your boyfriend’s brother was a blessing and a curse. The double dates were fun but the fights were exhausting.

“What’s with the pout, babe?” Melissa asked as she curled a lock of her black hair.

You sighed, resting against the door, “I got fired.”

Melissa’s eyes widen, staring at you through the mirror in her wall. She put down her curling iron and turned, “Those bloody pricks! They can’t fire you!”

Walking more into her room, you sat on her bed, “They can and they did. I’m screwed.”

“You’re the best employee they’d ever had,” she touched your knee in consolation.

“I know,” you said.

“Good,” Melissa gave you a small smile. “What are you going to do now?”

“Now?” you arched an eyebrow. “I should probably take a shower and get ready for the party.”

Melissa nodded, “Yeah, you should but I wasn’t talking about tonight.”

“I don’t know,” you stood up. “I just want to have a normal and just happy Valentine’s Day for a change with my boyfriend. I’ll look for a new job tomorrow.”

“That’s the spirit,” she said with enthusiasm. “Go.”

- - - -

As planned Sam and Dean were in front of yours and Mel’s apartment by nine. Your hair was nicely curled and your lips wore a vibrant red lipstick. Instead of wearing a red dress like your best friend, you opted to wear a white tight one that rested on your curves perfectly.

“Hey, handsome,” you said softly to Sam.

He smirked looking at you with heart eyes and handle you a big bouquet of red roses. You took a breve sniff of their scent. You were a sucker for red roses. He leaned in, kissing your lips.

“You. Look. Beautiful,” Sam said between kisses.

You giggled and gave him a smile. “Thank you.”

Tonight you didn’t ride with Sam in his bike, instead you guys carpooled on Dean’s black chevy Impala. It was a shocking surprise when Sam confessed he was part of a fraternity but not just any fraternity; Alpha Kappa, the most recognized one in campus.

Most of the college boys wanted to be an Alpha but only a phew were part of it. In Sam’s case, being part of this fraternity wasn’t on the top of his bucket list and neither was Dean’s. Everyone knew who the Winchester’s brothers were and they respected them. It was an inherited status brought up by his father John Winchester, who was president of Alpha Kappa for three years.

Sam and Dean were legacies, even though Dean already graduated and Sam like you was on his last year of college. Suddenly having inherited roles from family was another thing you and Sam had in common yet he didn’t knew what kind of legacy you were. But yet again, you were also oblivious of Sam’s legacy before he told you. Fraternities have never been much of your thing anyways.

9:30pm and the Alpha Kappa house front was mostly full with cars. Sam hold  your hand as both of you walked towards the red wood door. It took you by completely surprise when everyone greeted you with a big and loud, ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N’ unanimous shout. Your eyes and mouth where widen in surprise.

“Oh my God,” you smiled in amazement.  “Thank you!”

“Happy Birthday, babe,” Sam’s hand rested on your waist.

You sighed with a smile whispering an, “I love you,” before kissing his lips.

People you knew, the ones you didn’t knew and then some you’ve seen in campus greeted you with hugs and lots of birthday wishes. You weren’t sure if they really meant them or they just wanted to please Sam. They were nice and made you smile either way.

“I have a dare for you, sister,” Dean appeared holding a bottle of tequila Patron.

You smirked, “Shoot, brother.”

“Fifteen shots,” He began to pour the shots as he spoke, “you take them through the curse of the nights and these…” Dean took a pack of cash from his pocket, “five three hundred dollars will be yours. What do you say?”

“I say…” You took one of the shots and drank it dry. “Let’s double it?”

“You can’t drink fifteen shots,” Dean smirked.

Sam watched in silence, observing your daring and almost rebel side. It was something you didn’t showed often but it was a characteristic that Sam enjoyed.

“She can,” Melissa hold her boyfriend’s hand.

Dean glanced at Mel for a second before looking back at you.

“We’ll double up,” he replied with confidence, “bottoms up.”

You took two shots and drank them, after there were nothing in the glass cups you put them upside down back on the counter.

You winked at Dean, “That’s one twenty.”

Everyone around including the Winchester’s brothers, Melissa and you began to laugh. Someone in the crowd shouted ‘Let’s get this party going!’.

Sam hold your hand whispering to you ear, “Let’s dance”.

There was a homemade dance floor in the middle of living room where you and Sam danced a couple songs. Once in awhile you would leave him to get another shot but always came back to his arms. Sam’s moves weren’t Dancing With The Stars material but his body against yours while any song played was just the right kind of move for you.

By shot number six your body began to feel lighter and your laughs louder. It was also on your sixth shot that the cake appeared and everyone sang you happy birthday. You were happy and felt extremely loved. Sam hugged you from behind, kissing your cheek, both bodies moving to the sides slowly as everyone sang.

“Make a wish!” Melissa shouted.

You started at the white cake she’s holding for a moment. The only wish you’ve ever had is for more time to be happy. After silently wishing the same thing as previous years, you blew off the candles.  

Sam spinned you around, kissing your lips once again, “Happy Birthday.”

Suddenly Melissa came over and put cake’s frosting on your cheek. She hold another shot and you took it. Sam in other to help you out subtly grabbed one of the shots and drank it.

“Never gets old,” Melissa laughed at the frosting on your face.

“Ha-ha, grow up,” you chuckled..

The alcohol in your system  didn’t let you get even remotely mad at her. Getting your face full on cake’s frosting was a tradition she personally started the first birthday you spent with her. Only this time someone licked the frosting right off your cheek.

“Thank you,” you told Sam who gave you a wink.

Moments like these where when he looked like a total stud. His dark clothes, long hair and tattoos complementing to his look. Your lips sealed with Sam’s for a while, tasting the unusual mix of frosting and tequila off his lips.

Breaking the kiss you stared into his eyes and sighed deeply, “I hope they never finds us.”

Let me know what you think?

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