#and the next day lime is tripping over his own feet and walking straight into walls

[musubiki]

im actually fully convinced now that mochi used to wear the long skirt uniform until coco convinced her to be a normal high school girl and wear short skirts like everyone else, and thats when limes Thing(tm) started

[3desiderium3]

For your love

chapter three - Rotten Wine

[ series masterlist ]

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pairings : reader x damiano david

story summary : damiano and reader are in very loving relationship that sometimes almost too quickly becomes too toxic for anyone likings

chapter warning (s) : yelling , angst , manipulation , guilt tripping , mind games , toxic behavior , manipulative behavior , strong language

Saturday morning. Special saturday morning.

Today marks exactly a whole week of Y/N and Damiano not fighting. No yelling , no crying , no sleepless nights , no pushing out of the doorway , no drinking to wash away the sins , no mental damage , no nothing.

Instead of all that , they went on a museum date on Friday , they had a picnic day on Wednesday , Y/N bought him the pearly earrings he has been eyeing on for a while , Damiano made breakfast every day for them , Y/N went out in town to frame some of their pictures they took on their previous vacations . They had a few pamper nights in a row , painting each others nails , putting on face and hair masks and even those weird feet one ! Drinking wine and dancing slowly with some slow music. Damiano singing to Y/N more than 2 times a day.

They made love every night.

It was a dream.

Both of them secretly hoping that this dream won't turn into a nightmare.

Y/N was in kitchen cutting some strawberries for the cake she planned on bringing on tonight's gathering at Victoria's house. Ethan and Thomas where coming as well.

Damiano was still sleeping. Y/N was glowing from happiness and joy. She was so in love with him. She had a smile on her bright shiny face for 7 days in a row , her eyes seemed warmer and more calm , her posture was less tensed and she even smoked less.

While she was busy chopping the reddish fruit under her delicate fingers , the room suddenly felt warmer and creamy cinnamon smell filled it.

Damiano had this weird thing about him that often put Y/Ns mind on wander. It was the way his scent and his aura color changed during his mood swings.

Even if it was not visible to human eye , Y/N swore she could see that dim cloud surrounding his body and changing color in some situations.

His scent was natural , depending on the occasion it was sometimes too strong or it could barely be felt.

When he was happy he was shining deep orange tone with the scent of light cinnamon and lemon ice cream.

When he was sad his color was indigo and he left a strong scent of mint and lime.

When he was angry which is often , he gave of wine crimson vibrations and poisnosly sharp smell of rotten wine.

As for the matter of speaking , when lust would take over him and his senses he smelled sweet like rotting roses and he was gleaming in deep burgundy color.

Just like now he was filling the room with the smell of lemon ice cream and cinnamon.

A pair of slender , sun kissed arms wrapped themselves firmly around Y/N's shoulders and chest .

Damiano's warm , naked chest pressed against Y/N's back pushed her slightly to the edge of the kitchen counter. Closing the gap between her and that cold marble.

His lips found their was to gently kiss the lovely delicate neck of hers. Cracking a sly smile upon seeing some of the soft bruises he left on her neck previous night.

"Morning mio amore." Y/N's lover whispered in her ear. His voice was low , golden , filled with care and adoration.

A huge grin appeared on Y/N's face , turning her head to her left side to kiss Damiano's temple.

"Morning love. It was about time you wake. " His raspy chuckles sent shivers down her spine. " It was , but you have no idea how sad it made me to realize I woke up without you by my side. "

Oh what a sweet talker he was..

"Why don't we go back to bed hmm amore? We have a whole day ahead for us." Damiano nuzzled his face into her neck giving it multiple pecks.

" I need to finish this cake first , after it we can do whatever." " You plan on bringing the strawberry cake tonight?" " Yes.. Why?"

Y/N frowned , she turned around slowly hoping that her boyfriend was playing jokes with her. But he had the same confused expression on his morning face.

" Well... My mom is allergic to strawberries I thought you knew that already?" " Why would your mom be there??"

Damiano stepped back a bit clearly confused.

" Why would she be in her own house? I don't know she is living there I suppose."

Y/N blinked. More than once. Is there some sort of a plan she forgot about? Her mind racing now already , trying to remember all of his family members birthdays and important anniversaries .

" Did you forget the plans we arranged for tonight Y/N?" Damiano asked , now with much more serious tone , his face was not so relaxed and it seemed like the air got thicker and it was harder do breath. The look he gave her was chilling.

' Oh not this shit again.. Are we really going to fight now?? And for what?? '

"I understood that we are going to stay in tonight with Vic and the boys at her place?"

" No. We promised my parents we are going to dine out with them. Did you seriously forgot?!"

He half shouted leaving poor Y/N confused and in slight shock. Why was he getting mad at her for such nonsense? Was he waiting for the right timing just to start an argument?

" I am sorry but I do not remember , you ever telling me that we are seeing your folks. "

" Cause you never fucking listen to me maybe."

He walked over the small coffee table in living room to grab his pack of cigarettes' and a lighter. Taking one in his fingers and placing it between his lips lighting it and taking one long drag. The slow smoke coming out of his nose and hardly parted lips.

" Not just that you never fucking listen but you also never fucking care to remember the important stuff I have! "

Okay what the actual fuck.

Y/N though while her eyes went wide from shock under the furrowed eyebrows and clenched jaw.

This was some sort of a set up. She clearly remember that he never mentioned that to her before.

And both of them knew very fucking well that she would never in her life forget something that's important to him.

" You are obviously pissed at me right now for whatever reason that you have so I will let you be. When you get your shit together you can talk to me. " Y/N said with her head held high.

She was not gonna let him ruin this day. Instead she continued to make her cake. She needed to focus on something else than his deep dark eyes filled with fire from the thrones of hell burning inside of them.

The room smelled like rotten wine.

" What's the problem Damiano. Are you mad at me for not remembering something you never told me?"

He huffed , aggressively shaking ashes off his cig into the ashtray on the coffee table.

" And don't even try ruining my mood , I was perfectly fine before you woke up , I had a wonderful morning thanks for asking. "

" Are you seriously gonna jump on my nerves with that attitude Y/N? "

" That's what you are asking me to do. If you just admit that you forgot to tell me about plans with your parents we are gonna end the day in peace. "

" You are beyond fucking sweet and so beyond fucking dumb if you expect me to stay calm and be in peace with you. You are so ungrateful and so disrespectful towards me . "

Y/N felt like crying , her hands slightly shaking while wiping the fruits into cream . Why now? Why today? Why did he decided to start all this now?

" I am not believing my eyes now , instead of showing me that I am wrong and that you are not ungrateful , you are standing right here and not even bothering to listen what I have to say! "

" I don't wanna hear your crap Damiano! I am trying to maintain the fucking peace in this relationship while you are constantly the one to break it! "

Damiano also felt like crying. Cause Y/N was right. He did forgot to tell her they where invited to go out with their parents , he was in fact mainly responsible for each of their fights. But was he ever going to admit that he is wrong? No.

Instead of trying to process something she is saying to him right now , or trying to apologize , he stood up from the chair he was sitting on , his mouth placed in a smirk , his gaze piercingly cold despite his hot temper.

Damiano walked up to her standing beside her like an annoying child blocking her movements.

" I am sensing slight disobedience in your tone amore.. Now I think we should start again. You are gonna apolo - " " I will certainly not fucking apologize for anything ! Especially not dealing up with your egoistic ass Damiano!"

Y/N was yelling at him. Not able to handle this pressure of rotten wine.

She was tired again. Everything was pale and grey again. She swore that even the sun outside stopped shining. She was tired again from having to deal with a fucking brick wall.

He was just torturing her. For what? His ego.

He was watching her from above , still smirking with his arms crossed . He adored seeing her shake from rage. She was so obedient and so desperate for home peace that she tried doing everything she could to hold herself back.

" You know what Y/N , if you just once , just for once stopped playing a fucking victim then ma- "

" I AM NOT. PLAYING THE FUCKING. VICTIM!"

She screamed. Y/N Y/LN fucking screamed at Damiano David with all the fore she had in her lungs. Inside her ears it was ringing and she didn't realize that she dropped one bowl at the counter , which just provided clacking noises.

Silence.

Complete silence that smelled like rotten wine.

Damiano took whatever he could feel under his fingers which was on Y/N's unfortune a bowl filled with cake whipping cream . He gripped it firmly before smashing it in one stir way right beside her.

Y/N was standing paralyzed her eyes watering and palms visibly shaking. She was watching Damiano straight into his deep dark eyes which showed no emotion.

" Once you accept your place and know your role and once you admit you are fucking wrong ,we can talk properly. " That was all he said as that sly half smile never left the corner of his lips.

He passed her by walking to their bedroom.

No other sounds or words left.

Y/N grabbed the edge of the counter , holding herself steady so she wouldn't fall. Her mind racing. Legs shaking. Heart beating mad.

'So this is the man I wanna marry? The man I want to have family with?'

The one who just throw an heavy object right beside her head?

The one who attacks her for his mistakes?

Her legs finally gave her away. She couldn't stand straight , crying all the tears she never knew she had. Y/N hugged her knees and placed her head temple on them. What a lovely Saturday morning.

She stayed there on the floor crying for at least thirty minutes. With running nose and sobs that turned into whimpers and hiccups.

She regretted ever talking back to him . She should've simply agree that she forgot what she didn't even knew. A few times thinking and trying to remember if by any chance she did forgot about that plan.

But no. She couldn't remember. She lost all hope she had.

When she felt like she could stand again she stood up not quit bothering to clean up the white and beige mess on the floor. She skipped it skillfully directing herself to their bedroom.

'Think about all the times this has happened before , think about all other times when he was guilt tripping you and using you to water up his garden of ego. '

Y/N entered their shared room where her lover was in. Laying on his back on a bed surrounded by soft cloudy cotton sheets. His arms and hands behind his head . His eyes looking her up and down with a cold expression while behind them a fire from the throne of hell was burning.

The room stopped smelling like rotten wine.

It was smelling very little like the mint and lime.

Slow raindrops hitting the huge windows gently , the sky changed from golden to silver.

" I-I am sorry.. Plea-ase don't be m-mad at me.. " She managed to choke out this apology.

Wishing that she was the one hearing it.

Wishing she didn't have to pray away his sins.

He tapped the place for her to lay beside him.

He made her a bed of thorns. In which this gentle rose was supposed to blossom.

" Ti amo amore mio . "

Oh that silly word she always get instead of apology. Like it would fix something.

She laid down beside him , placing her head on his chest , her left leg in between his and her left arm around his torso.

One of his hands playing with her hair while the other caressed her arm.

His eyes becoming glassy as bitter drops of shame and regret left them.

Both of these lovers crying in each others arms purposely. Eager to be taken care of.

And not being able to stay on the calm shore cause the violence is the only way they know how to love.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Actus Reus

Warnings: nonconsensual sexual acts (oral, spanking, intercourse)

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find yourself at odds with Andy Barber both in and out of court.

Note: I just decided to write this one shot because I could and because @lokislastlove​ is harassing me all the time!

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You stood as the judge went through the motions, the verdict closer and closer. Judge Hannon's voice carried through the courtroom and you longed for those words; 'Not guilty'. 

As your victory was confirmed, you glanced across the room at the Assistant District Attorney. You smiled as his eyes met yours and his jaw ticked. More and more often you found yourself on the docket with Andy Barber and to your delight, the last three times had been successful. At least, on your end.

You shook the defendant’s hand and congratulated him on his avoided jail time. Your own celebration would have to wait.

You packed up and neared the aisle. Andy sat behind the desk, his briefcase open and his papers still stacked before him. You rested your bag on the corner and stopped.

"Head up. There's always next time." You chimed.

He looked over. His lips remained a straight line and his eyes burned fiercely at you. Usually he took it on the chin with grace and you were startled at the sheer anger in his expression. He sighed and turned to shuffle his papers into a single pile.

"Yeah," He stood, "Next time."

You smiled and nodded. You left him to stew in his ire and shrugged as you neared the door. You'd seen it before. Egos always seemed to find their way into the courtroom. Well, his wasn't your concern, you had your own to deal with. This high wouldn't last forever, but while it did, you were sure as hell going to enjoy it.

💼

Aaron finished his drink and checked his watch. The wife was waiting, so he claimed. That was always his excuse to cut out early and the rest were quick to follow suit; early morning, kids, cat needed to be fed. You bid Carlos goodbye next and then Geena. Your posse was rather lame outside the courtroom, not that they were much fun there either.

You shrugged and made your way to the bar for a second round. You stood at the corner trying to catch the attention of the bartender. The subtle movement of another at the opposite end caught your eye. You recognized the beard made darker by the shadows and you recognized your adversary despite his attempt to hide behind his hand.

You smiled and played his game. You pretended not to notice him as the bartender finally came your way. A double with lime. You waited and watched until the stout tumbler was placed before you. You paid and left the change as a tip. You walked a few stools down, closer to Andy as he stared into his rye. You climbed up and set your glass down loudly.

You stared at the Coors sign and crossed one leg over the other as you sipped. You smiled above the lip of the glass and sighed. His stool creaked and he cleared his throat.

"Come to gloat?" He asked.

"Nah, just wanted to see if you'd find your spine." You taunted. "I take it that's not a happy drink."

He glared at you and drained the last gulp. He motioned to the bartender and ordered a refill.

"And once she's done, give her another on me." His voice was low, monotone. He barely looked at you.

"You don't have to--"

"You won. You earned it," He huffed. "And I was always told it wasn't good to drink alone."

"You talking about you or me?" You countered. 

He shrugged and accepted his second drink.

"Whatever makes you feel better," He grumbled.

"Look, Mr. Assistant District Attorney, I don't think you need to be so worked up over me." You snickered. "A public defender is hardly an enviable position."

"You do well enough, don't you?" He took a swig and licked the excess from his lips.

"Look, I think I'm good on the refill. A kind gesture but..." You stood and took your drink. "I don't think alcohol is a great mixer for us."

"What's wrong? Not so mouthy without an audience."

"Right, Andy," You backed up slowly. "I'll see you at the courthouse. Hopefully not soon."

You left him to mope and returned to your table, alone but not disheartened. The gin was just starting to kick in and lent a soft glow to the dark barroom.

💼

Another drink and you were ready to go. Admittedly it was one too many but tomorrow was your day off and despite his resent, Andy had insisted on sending it over. He left just as it was delivered to your table. You raised it in thanks as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

You left the empty glass on the table and slung your jacket over your arm as you hugged your bag to your side. It was barely midnight, the bar would be open for a few hours more. You stumbled out into the dim street and the door clattered behind you noisily. 

You swayed as you stopped on the curb and looked up and down the road. A cab would be your best bet.

You chuckled dopily as you squinted at a set of headlights down the street. The alcohol was starting to really nip at you. You raised your hand to flag down the taxi but were suddenly pulled off balance. Your scream was capped by a hand over your mouth as you kicked out and dropped your blazer and bag onto the sidewalk. You flailed as you were dragged back into the mouth of the alley just beside the bar.

"Shhhh," The hot breath smelled like whiskey as you were shoved against the wall. 

You looked up at the looming shadow, the silhouette of broad shoulders and a face shrouded in darkness. Your vision was hazy and your felt a draining warm flow through you as the gin sank deeper into your stomach.

"You make a noise," The coarse growl chilled you, "I'll make sure you never say another word again."

You gulped and slapped the stranger's chest. He was strong, big, immovable. You whimpered into his palm and he pressed it harder to your lips.

"Do you understand?" He snarled.

You nodded and your hand slipped from his chest. 

You leaned against the wall, trying to flatten yourself as his hand slid from over your mouth. 

"Please..." You wisped.

"Don't, " He warned as he grabbed the front of your blouse, his leg against yours as he pinned you there.

He tore your shirt open and pushed it aside. He squeezed your tits gruffly, your bra thin beneath his touch. He was quick to snake his hands down around your ass and knead with a beastly growl.

His hands descended further and he yanked on your skirt until it was above your thighs. He ripped your panties down just as quickly and your legs wobbled beneath you. You threatened to crumple entirely and he pushed your shoulders back against the wall.

He was terse, silently demanding as he led your body to his whims. He pulled your leg up and hooked it around his hip. You heard a buckle and a zipper, the noise cut through your panic and you were washed over with numb acceptance.

You blinked a long blink and when you opened your eyes, he was inside you. He jerked your body violently as he impaled you. His hand kept a hold of your knee as he writhed against you with muted grunts. His other hand moved in the shadows along the edge of your vision. You closed your eyes again and scratched your fingernails along the wall as your ankles buckled underneath your weight, the thin heels of your shoes threatening to snap.

You felt a painful fullness, an incessant pounding in your core, as this stranger ravished you. Your eyelids bloomed yellow for an instant and you opened them to another blinding flash, and another, several until the light turned constant. Until you were nothing but a rag doll crushed between the grimy brick and inhuman warmth.

The bar door opened with a shrill grind and closed again. Several times as you were trapped only feet away. Drunken footfalls echoed away and you just let them.

You gave a whine and the hand flew from your leg to your mouth. Another hush as your leg dangled around the stranger and he kept on rutting into you. Every thrust was harder, meaner, his sinister growls barely restrained as the light kept your clueless.

Then it all stopped. His hips slowed and he pulled out of you. Heat spurted down your thigh and the light moved lower before it died entirely. Your skirt was tugged down over the mess and you were left to collapse into a heap. 

The buckle again, and the zipper. The soft soles on the ground and the drop of your bag beside you and the flutter of your jacket over your chest. You stayed there, weak, frightened, and the shadow walked away into the darkness.

You buttoned up your shirt, crooked and untucked as you pushed yourself to your feet. You pulled on your blazer and gripped your bag tightly, unsteadily finding your way back to the street. There was a drunk pissing on the other side of the road and you limped down towards the corner. Another taxi appeared and you raised your hand, almost tripping over your own feet.

All you had to do was get home. Get home, get safe, and you could figure it out tomorrow.

💼

The next day, you woke with barely any recollection of how you got home. You remembered your last drink and the door closing behind you but everything else was a garbled, retina burning blur.

You didn't do much more than hold together your splitting head. It really hadn't been that great a victory and you accepted this as the humbling you deserved. That and the ache throughout your body, the filth you felt upon waking on your couch. The feeling as if you had forgotten something very important. But all that remained was that blur. That painful blur that made you want to wretch.

It faded with each day that followed. As you got back to your usual toil, your little excess dissolved into the void of routine. You worked long hours, interview witnesses, consulted defendants, and pored over case files. 

That night almost entirely slipped your mind but for the odd dreams that waited for you in the night. The bright light, the rutting breaths, the warmth in your core, broken by the sobering mornings and washed away with the hours between.

What was it? Two, three weeks. Maybe a whole month. You didn't dwell on that night until your old foe sat just across the aisle.

You stood patiently, quietly, as the judge read over your new evidence. It would be the crux of your next case but you couldn't betray that to Andy as his hand stretched across the plaintiff's table and he watched Judge Hannon closely.

"Your honour, we were not given sufficient notice--" Barber began.

"This trial has yet to commence. The defendant is giving notice now and as I see..." Hannon paused and flipped to the first page, "You signed off on the review."

"That is not what we saw," Andy lied.

"If there has been any tampering, it was not on our accord." You argued. "As is customary, once the plaintiff has reviewed the evidence it is then sent directly to the court to be held for official consideration."

"Mr. Barber, if you can give a valid legal argument why this evidence should not be permitted, I'm waiting." Hannon closed the folder and stared at the prosecutor.

Andy's nostrils flared and he lowered his head in deference. He had no argument. As you watched him, heard his gristly breath as he sighed, you felt an odd coil in your stomach.

"Very well. I haven't the time to argue this further. You have your approval," Hannon tapped the folder. "Dismissed."

You smiled, just a little. The tugging at the back of your mind kept you from your usual delight. You packed up your briefcase and headed for the aisle. Andy met you there and watched you with a stern scowl. He nodded you ahead of him and you skirted past without a second thought.

He followed you down the aisle as the next parties on the docket shuffled into place. You swept through the door and it was swiftly caught behind you. The hall was quite and sterile, especially compared to the courtroom.

"You won't win. Not this time." Andy sneered and you stopped to look back at him. "You can't base your whole case on a parking slip."

"We'll see." You said and turned back.

You took two steps before his hand was on your arm. He spun you back to him and you gaped at him in shock. You wrenched free of his grasp and stumbled back.

"What do you think you're doing?" You hissed. "Andy, it's just a case. You win some, you lose some."

"Yeah, well, I'm real tired of losing..." He reached in his pocket and slid his phone out. "Especially to you."

"I'm just doing my job and your numbers aren't my problem," You scoffed. "Get your shit together."

"I should say the same," His lips curved just a little and he turned his phone to you. "How many people want this decrying their morality to the world?"

You stared at the image and grimaced. It was you, your blouse was undone, one side of your bra had slipped down below your chest and your eyes were bleary and senseless. Your skirt was bunched at your waist and below... That night. What had happened that night?

"What the fuck!?" You snarled. "Andy, how did--" 

"Shhh," He hushed you and pinpricks spread over your skin. Your blood curdled as you felt like throwing up. "You don't wanna do this here."

You glanced over at the scales of justice on the short plinth then back to him.

"You think I'll throw the case because you got a few photos of me?"

"I think you’ll do... whatever I want you to." He smirked. "You'll start by having a little chat with me. In my office."

"I have to get back--"

"You will lie and say there was a delay in court," He said staunchly. "Or... I can CC you on the email I send to Hannon."

You swallowed and lowered your eyes. You shook your head and took a breath. You threw your hand up weakly.

"Okay," You said quietly.

He neared you and you winced. He sidestepped you and his shoes clicked down the polished floor. They stopped at the very end.

"Well..." He said.

You turned stiffly and marched towards him, your fingers tight around the handle of your briefcase. He carried on and you followed just a step behind. He led you past the desks of his fellow attorneys and to the corner office where his name was etched on a brass plaque.

He closed the door behind you with a quite clasp. You stood just inside and he brushed past you and crossed to his desk. He dropped his briefcase and leaned against the corner as he flicked his thumb across his phone. He watched the screen intently and tapped it twice. 

You saw the moving shapes, indecipherable from your vantage and you set down your briefcase by the door. You neared and looked down at the video of yourself. You had no doubt it was him doing those things to you but nothing in the video could confirm that. If it wasn't him holding the phone, you'd have no idea at all.

"Andy!" You reached out and grabbed at the phone. "What is wrong with you?"

"You seemed to enjoy yourself." He stood straight and held the phone above him, beyond your reach. "Didn't you?"

"I-I--" You spluttered. "I don't remember. Andy, don't you realise that what you did--" 

"You think you'd win that case, hmm?" He chuckled. "Really? You were drunk, you can't remember what happened let alone who it was."

"Give me the phone, Andy," You growled and were almost flush to him as you tried to reach it. "How dare--"

"You really think anyone will believe it's me?" He caught your wrist and held it above you. "Maybe, but they know for sure that it's you being a little slut in this."

"What did you--"

He wrenched your arm down and twisted. You cried out as he spun you around and turned you toward the desk. He easily slipped his phone away and grabbed the back of your neck. You dug your heel in and he squeezed.

"Shhh," He hissed in your ear. "We don't want anyone to hear. To know what a slut you are."

"Stop, get off--"

He let go of your wrist and clapped his hand over your mouth. He pushed on your neck and forced you forward until you were against the desk. He bent with you below him until your cheek was on the wood. He wiggled his hips and you felt his arousal against your ass.

"If you want to keep your reputation, likely your job, you will be good for me," He stood slowly, his hand still on your neck as he held you down. "You get your wins and I get mine."

"You can't do this," You pleaded.

"I already have," He gloated, his other hand crept down your back.

His reached over your ass and bunched your skirt in his fingers. You squirmed and his grip sent a pang down your spine. You groaned and he forced your skirt up over your ass. He tutted and played with the lacy edge of your panties.

"Is this what you wear to court?" He asked. "Naughty girl."

"Andy..." You uttered.

"You be quiet," He ordered as he grasped the top of your panties. "Or these go in your mouth."

He tore them down past your ass and you gasp. He leaned his weight on your neck and rubbed your ass. You closed your mouth and shakily curled your fingers over the edge of the desk.

"Good," He tickled along your skin and pulled his hand away.

There was a lull, a tense pause as you waited for whatever he had planned. The sharp slap that followed stung your ass and shattered the silence. You choked on your cry and he did it again. His large hand sent ripples through you as he spanked you, each time a low purr rumbled from him. Your toes slipped along the floor as your legs turned to jelly.

He only stopped as a soft chiming sounded. He released your neck and slowly dragged his hand down your back as his other rubbed a circle over your ass.

"Stay," He said.

You covered your face with your hand but didn't move from the desk. 

"Barber," He said and indiscernible chatter rose from the speaker of his phone. "Oh, yeah, yeah. No, I'm not busy. No problem."

There was a moment before he let out a long breath. He pinched your ass and stepped away from you.

"Canavan's on her way." He grabbed your bag and returned to you. He pulled you up by your arm. "Better hide."

"I should go--"

"No time," He said as he urged you around the desk. "Go on."

He threw your bag under the desk and pointed beside as he shoved you down. 

"She said she was already on her way."

"Andy," You fixed your panties and skirt. "I'll just go--"

"How's this?" He tilted his phone toward you. "Another to add to the collection."

A photo of your ass above your lacy panties greeted you. You blinked and recoiled.

"Why are you doing this?"

"We'll have lots of time later to discuss," He pushed on your shoulder and put his phone in his jacket pocket. "Now, go on."

You dropped to your knees reluctantly. He sat and waved you under the desk. You back underneath it, careful not to knock your head. He wheeled his chair close and blocked you in. His knees were on either side of your head as he rubbed his thighs.

"You'll have to keep quiet," His fingers fluttered up to his fly and he shifted as he undid it. "Keep yourself busy."

"Are you ser--"

"Shhh," He caught your chin as his other hand pulled his cock free of his pants. "Remember, quiet."

He got as close as he could and drew you to him. He stroked himself and pressed his tip to your lips. A knock sounded at the door and you froze.

"Open your fucking mouth," It felt as if he would crush your jaw and you obeyed with a whine. He shushed you as he slid into your mouth. "Don't you fucking stop." He growled under his breath before raising his voice to an eerily chipper tone. "Come in."

His cock was at the back of your throat as you stilled. You heard the door open but not close. The heels crossed and the other chair creaked as someone sat.

"I heard about the new evidence," The district attorney said. "Bit of a rough patch, eh?"

"Can't all be home runs," He said and tapped your leg with his toe. "It's nothing. I'll find a way around it."

"Look, Barber," Canavan said. "I know you will. You're a good attorney but we all need breaks. I can see it, you're stressed. It's okay to take a vacation."

"You know, it has been..." You  began to move your head as he poked you again with his shoe. "Tough but I think whatever it was, I'm past it. It was just... you know Laurie and Jacob. She was doing a lot of overtime and the kid likes to run off at all hours but I think we finally figured it out."

His legs held you snugly as he tensed at the feel of your mouth gliding up and down his length. You thought of the images on his phone, of the chaos they could inspire, of how hard you'd worked to get where you were. This man wanted to exchange all that for his own ego. You pressed your tongue to his shaft and he cleared his throat gruffly.

"A couple days, if you need them, more if you wanna take the family away," Canavan offered. "Look, a little while without you is better than you being here but not really being here. You get it?"

"Oh, I... do," He shuddered as you kept your pace steady. 

You did your best not to make a noise as your spit dripped down his length. You could tell he was struggling just as much not to give you away.

"How about I think about it and get back to you tomorrow? I'll have to talk to Laurie." He said evenly.

"I can wait until tomorrow," The chair groaned and her heels clicked on the wooden floor. "Maybe dust off that Jack you hide in your second drawer. I'll keep pretending I don't know about it."

"I might just," Andy chuckled. "Thanks, Lynn."

"I mean it," Her footsteps neared the threshold, "Think about it."

The door closed and Andy let out a long breath. His hand went to the back of your head and he pushed himself down your throat with a moan. 

"Fuck," He swore as he gripped your head between his hands. "You little fucking bitch. I thought you didn't want anyone to know you were so..." He hissed as he bobbed your head. "Bad. Fuck!"

You grabbed his thighs as he guided you up and down. You tried not to choke on him as he hammered the back of your throat. His right hand slipped around the back of your head and his other latched onto your shoulder. 

He swore again as he leaned back in his chair and lifted his pelvis. He long legs stretched out around you as he spasmed. He held your head down as he grunted and emptied himself into your mouth. 

His hips bucked only a few more times before he stilled. His hand fell from you and he hung his arms over the sides of his chair. He sighed and you nearly gagged as you pulled him out of your mouth.

You were trapped halfway under the desk and you felt around behind you with one arm as you cupped your other hand before your mouth. You had a pack of kleenex in your bag, somewhere.

"Ah," Andy clutched your hand and pulled you with him as he rolled back. His cock softened slowly over his pants. "Swallow or you can keep going until you get it right."

You frowned and your lips trembled in disgust. His cum had already thickened on your tongue and your eyes rolled back as you made yourself swallow. He let you go and you wiped your lips with the back of your hand.

"You know how it is," He winked as he leaned back and bent his arms behind his head casually. "You win some, you lose some."

[neocity-sarai]

Under the Lights

۞ mark lee x reader (based on my fic “fight for you”) 

۞ alerts: kissing, spicy dancing, language, angst (thank you for 200 followers. that’s just a number that doesn’t amount to how much true support I have received. seriously, thank you!)

۞  inspired by this lovely edit made by @/kpopmood on youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZV4rvsaB0hE&t=12s (please go check out the creator’s videos!) 

It’s funny how the night time used to be your favorite part of the day. It’s the way the moon would shine, casting it’s light on the rippled puddles in these streets, colors would bounce off the artificial rainfall and on all the glowing city sign boards. That was how it was. Walking through the city would make your heart swell with excitement- how everything was immersed in a pool of technicolor, eyes bright with adventure. That’s because he was there. Mark. Mark Lee. The boy who saved you from some homeless man that was trying to hit on you. He looked so noble then, doe eyes gazing at you, lips curled into a smile. It always replays in your mind, the memory of the way your cheek feels on Mark’s shoulder. The way that his warm, soft lips feel on yours as people bustle along the city streets below you. The way he’d play his guitar and his singing voice as you drifted off to sleep. Every time the night overtakes the sun, he’s all the runs in your mind. It’s like a cycle that never really ends even when you’re awake and doing something else. Now, you’re all alone again. That night that Mark died. His crimson blood stained on your hands. It never really washes off. You spent months blaming yourself, blaming yourself for the loss of the one person you never wanted to lose. Foolishly, you thought you could fix it. Kynigos had inputted a function into everyone’s headsets that you could leap into different time periods, view memories, and create an all encapsulating virtual environment all stemmed from your mind. That’s what you used to get to know Mark better, seeing the inside of his life. It’s what made you fall in love with him, this innocent, handsome dork.

[months earlier]

Are you sure about this?

You laugh, “I want to dance, silly!”

You waste no time, grabbing Mark’s hand. It was Haechan’s birthday, Mark’s best friend. Of course, you had met Mark’s other friends in the meantime too. Haechan, Jeno, and Jaemin were already wasted drunk in the bar that you were at and downing several shots of liquor didn’t help your case either. The bar was a wide space, strobe lights of violets, indigos, and red beat to the pump of the music as virtual dancers twirled their ribbons in light cages. Other strangers gathered around the bar, clamoring to dance and to drink. Normally, you’d never go to a place like this but somehow, Haechan had convinced you to have fun with the group anyway. You couldn’t say no. 

You were dressed in a pretty outfit, makeup to match the sequins of the giant disco ball, and it makes Mark gulp nervously every time you would brush arms. He was dressed in a nice satin shirt and some jeans, complete with his favorite pair of dress shoes. Mark doesn’t budge when you try to pull him to the dance floor, staring down at your hand clamped over his. You turn back at him, “Is everything okay?”

Mark nods almost too violently, “Yeah! I’m just- surprised is all.”

You have to shout over the bass that shakes the floor and makes the tiles glow a million colors, “Surprised over what?!”

Mark shakes his head, “I don’t know how to dance well!”

You slap him in the back, “It’s fine, come on!”

By the time you squeeze your way through all the people, you try to pay no mind to the girls who are dancing on their dates or the drunkards who are dancing alone. You start to move your body, rolling and moving your hips to beat of the song innocently. Mark stands still, watching you as he moves shyly, trying to wiggle to the beat too. Others may laugh but you think he has his own charm. He laughs along with you, fingers covering his eyes because of how embarrassed he is. With the alcohol that runs in your veins, you stop moving, pulling him closer, “Just relax, Mark.”

He stops too, eyes widened from your proximity, “I-okay.”

You put your arms around Mark’s neck and you notice how he bites his red lip, eyes fluttering everywhere, “Can I, uh-”

You take it upon yourself to guide his clammy hands onto your hips, his touch surges electricity down your spine but try hard not to show it. Finally, you feel Mark relax next to you as he lets out a sigh when he rests his forehead against yours. You chuckle, moving together in syncopation, “See, you got it.”

Mark smiles, eyebrows raised, “Only because you’re leading.”

Then, your friends find you both in the middle of the extremely crowded, sweaty dance floor and you can tell because of Haechan’s drunk yells and Jaemin’s curses when he can’t stand up straight. The lights fade from a multitude of colors to a stark violet shade, the song switching tempos to a slower, more sensual beat. It sparks heat on your body, fingers craving for wild touches and the boy who’s in front of you. Being Mark, he panics a little, caught off guard by the sudden change in atmosphere. Because he lets go of you, you can’t but feel disappointment. Jeno, drunk off strawberry smirnoff and lime margaritas swings you around to him, “Come on, y/n! Dance with me!”

You laugh, tripping over your own heels. Still, you jump up and down with Jeno and the rest of the boys, riding the beat along with them as people begin to dance on top of you. Everything is blurry and it feels like you’re losing yourself into blinding light, your hair sticking to your skin from how hot it is. You let the music run through you, wracking through your body. You almost don’t realize that Mark is standing by you all as he watches you, Jeno, and Renjun. Mark looks away, fists curled into his palms. His lips are slightly pouted, his perfectly styled hair becoming more messy. So, you tread back to him, pushing past all the girls who glare at you for interrupting their energies, but you don’t care. 

“Is everything okay? We can get out of here if you want-”

Mark stares at you, wasting no time to pull you flushed against his chest, his hand protectively flat against the small of your back, “Why are you dancing with him when you were dancing with me?”

You realize that Mark’s tone is deeper than before, his shy attitude abandoned before you can respond to his command, “We just kind of got caught in the moment, I’m really sor-”

Mark’s lips barely brush past your ear, he growls a little, “Be close to me, y/n. I want you right here.”

You’re startled by Mark’s sudden shift in attitude, it makes you shiver from the thought. 

“Okay.”

So you both let yourselves go. You dance with Mark, letting him twirl you under the lights and you swing your hips against him, not actually having danced with anyone like this before. Mark groans from your body against his, his fingers curled tight on your hips. The bass shakes your bodies, rumbling through the atmosphere like earthquakes and even though your feet are numb, you still keep going. Then, Mark spins you around so you’re facing him, “Let’s go.”

Before you can reply, he’s whisking you out of the bar and out of the virtual portkey at the entrance. Suddenly, you’re back on Everlane street which is the street where you and Mark had first met. Outside, the night sky is covered with a net of swirling stars and cars zoom across the sky overhead. Robots advertise menus for the cafes and restaurants that line the sidewalk, romantics happening on every corner. The breeze in the night smells sweet, bringing back the flood of memories. Mark begins to lead you into the double doors of his 3 story apartment, reaching in his jean pocket for his keys. You follow him up the stairs, entering the living room that is familiar to you. The apartment feels like Mark. It’s a studio apartment, the furniture beiges and whites, the carpets a light grey. Just as Mark throws his keys onto the counter, he grabs you by the shoulders, his hands warm on your skin, “I’m sorry if I acted weird back there. I was just looking forward to dancing with you and drunk ass Jeno swept you away…”

Mark’s eyes are sad, his lips pouted as you bring your hand to the curve of his cheek, “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

Mark jokingly frowns, “I think I would’ve gone crazy if they touched you.”

You laugh, “I love you. Nobody else, okay?”

Then Mark presses his forehead against yours, his arms wrapping around the waist of your dress where you ribbon belt is tied before smashing his lips against yours. You stumble back on your heels, your back and Mark’s hands against the rim of the counter like he’s trapping you in. You run your hand through Mark’s silver hair, drunk off the cologne that he wears. Mark bites down on your lip, making you groan. You mumble on his lips, “You’re not upset right?”

Mark chuckles, running his hand along your thigh and moving down to press kisses to your neck, “What if I said that I was?”

You tug on Mark’s hair, you’re absolutely breathless, “You shouldn’t be. There’s no reason to.”

Mark pulls your ribboned belt, letting it fall to the floor on a pile, “Shouldn’t you prove it to me then?”

Mark goes back to kissing your lips and you mumble, “How should I do that?”

And expecting him to take things further, Mark reaches behind you for something in his coin bowl that’s shaped like a watermelon slice. You pull away from his lips, staring at the pair of keys he has in his hand. Mark jangles them, “Y/n, would you like to move in with me?”

You eye him with shock, “Wait- did you just- wait, for real?”

Mark nods, “I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while now, just didn’t know when.”

“So you’re asking now?!”

Mark smiles a toothy grin, threatening to burst into laughter, “Yes?”

You smile into your hands, “I’d love to.”

Launching yourself into Mark’s arms, he catches you, kissing you with fervor once more. 

[current time]

Tomorrow, you had a mission. Ever since Mark’s been gone, you and the boys have been working to clear levels and gain more skills. You swore to yourself that even though you couldn’t bring Mark back, you didn’t want men like Mr. C going around killing people. Everyone calls them the Underground, a mafia-like organization that tries to take advantage of the Kynigos system and force kids to do their dirty work so they don’t get caught. They rob people of their points, their skills so that they can become more powerful. They don’t have morals and they don’t care either. So, you and the rest of the boys formed the Right Compass, an organization of hyper-intelligent headset users to combat the Underground. Renjun and Jaemin are in charge of the tech, Chenle and Jisung are in charge of outreach and recruitment, and you and Jeno are the honorary agents. Besides Mark, you trusted the boys more than anyone else. After Mark’s passing, it brought you closer together-- forming the Right Compass in Mark’s name. 

Your mission was that the government had sent an infiltrator spy to scout the Underground levels, to crack down where the heart of the organization is. No one knows and that’s why you and the boys have been tracking leads since you first knew about it. There’s some sightings, maybe a cloudy witness here and there but nothing definite. Your mission was to find the undercover spy and convince them to do a covert operation with the Right Compass. You wanted them to see how strong you were as a united front and how many members had solved crimes, big or small. You and Jeno had packed light. You had dressed in all black so that you could blend into the shadows, your beam-powered guns strapped to your holster. 

Jeno nods at you, his glass-lenses sitting on the bridge of his nose as he coats them with invisibility spray. You do the same, it makes you both less noticeable. You nod, hopping up on your hoverboard as Jeno does the same, shooting up into the sky. You ride your board over the city, the lights glowing under you as people who walk the streets look like tiny ants from your view. Jeno goes first, his tall figure blasting into an emerald portal that opens up in the middle of the sky. You follow him, being swallowed by green light as you’re both transported to the Underground levels. Everything looks starkly different in the Underground. It’s like a black hole, the streets are covered in grime and trash, alleyways shrouded in secrets. Everyone’s cloaked as they walk along the bars that are locked with passwords and gambling shacks, dog fights happen on every corner. You’re reminded of why people don’t come here, at least good people don’t. Jeno motions you over, pointing at a ledge on a roof, “Land over there, turn on shadow mode.”

You do as he says, your body disappearing into the dark sky that’s as black as charcoal, no stars glow overhead. When you and Jeno land, you scoff, “It’s filthy here, why would people want to live in a place like this?”

Jeno presses a button on his hoverboard that makes it condense into a cube like a transformer as he shoves it in his pocket, “It’s the Underground. People don’t come here for fun, y/n. Well they do, just not the good kind.”

You nod, “Where’s the lead this time?”

Jeno opens his map on his wristwatch that Renjun built for him, the map appearing as a scan of the entire area. “Well, for starters after tracking the government’s traces, there’s been a link at this bar. There’s someone in there who can help us to find the undercover agent.”

“Let’s go then.”

Climbing down from the ledge, you and Jeno disguise yourselves with outfits that make it seem you belong, tattoos cover Jeno’s arms and you tease him at how it suits him. He smiles, pulling you close to him as you both make your way to a dark sector of alleyways. You pull the rim of your hat down, careful to not show your face. You can’t risk being caught, or even worse, killed. As you pass, burly men who smell of cigars eye you with contempt. Women who have several layers of makeup and ripped outfits glare at you but stare atJeno with hungry eyes and it makes you intertwine your fingers with his. There’s a tone of surprise in his low voice, “Everything alright?”

You nod, keeping your head down, “Just fine. Just blending in.”

You try to ignore the rapid beating in your heart. Half because it’s Jeno and the other half being you haven’t forgotten about Mark and it makes you feel guilty. 

You finally stop at the entrance of the bar, the stench of smoke and vodka making your eyes burn. A blue dial pad appears on the door, the number turning. Surprisingly, Jeno enters a code with nimble fingers, the lock becoming undone right in front of you. Jeno turns back to you, “Don’t drink anything and don’t talk to anyone. I’ll handle the talking. If anything happens, you run and get to the portal okay?”

You find yourself wanting to argue back but now isn’t the time. All you can do is agree. When you enter the establishment, it’s everything you expect it to be. Big men drink at the barstools, women play pool as they sip their beers, and the bar is decorated with oriental decorations. A woman struts in front of you, walking like a feline as she runs her long nails against the skin of Jeno’s bare arms and it makes you grimace. He smiles with his eyes, adjusting his black turtleneck up to his nose. You think he looks like an undercover ninja rather than an agent. Jeno walks towards a red velvet curtain by the side, pulling it to reveal people making love to each other on the velvet booths and you can’t feel any more uncomfortable. Jeno doesn’t really have an expression. He walks to the clerk booth, speaking to an asian woman who’s applying eyeliner on her lids.

“Are you Misty Kinazawa? We’re looking for Ghostboy.” 

The woman doesn’t answer. She wears a red oriental dress, jewels hang off her bun as she annoyingly chews her gum with a smack. You and Jeno look at each other in confusion, growing impatient. Finally, she sets her mirror down in irritation, “I don’t go by Misty anymore. It’s Rae now. And who are you?”

Jeno looks around before tugging down the edge of his sleeve to show her the compass tattoo on his wrist, “Right Compass. We spoke on the phone.”

Rae cackles, “Ah right- those kids who promised to pay me right? Ghostboy’s probably here somewhere, check in the back room.”

Jeno pulls out a wad of cash from his jacket pocket, “Thanks Rae. Have a nice night.”

Rae scoffs, counting the bills as she cocks her head in the direction of the back room. You and Jeno pass by the sex club and you swear that you would have torn your eyes out if youweren’t on a mission. Entering the back room, Jeno sweeps away a suede emerald curtain and what you find behind it is insane. The entryway opens up into a humongous warehouse room, submerged underwater. It’s a huge floating cube of water, filled with a large crowd of club-goers. It reminds you of that night, that night when Mark had pulled you close. Jeno rubs his temples, “How the fuck are we going to find an undercover agent in this crowd?”

“Let’s split up, cover more ground. Meet back up here?”

Jeno looks at you with concern, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah- have more faith in me. I can take care of myself.”

Jeno nods, “Okay. Meet back here right after. We’re tagged so just ping my location on your wristwatch and I’ll come find you.” 

You both enter the cube, the music transitioning from muffles to blaring electronic sounds, sweaty bodies crashing into you like a vortex. Jeno heads left so you head right. You remember looking at Ghostboy’s file, he’s supposed to be wearing a gold armband. His frame is medium height, yet you don’t know what his face looks like. Jeno’s right, it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. You start by weaving through the bodies, girls falling into you from being too drunk. Even though everything is underwater, you find that you can still breathe. Must be why a virtual world is most desirable, technology can do everything.

People get in your way, boys hooting and hollering at you, trying to rip off your cloak. You swat them away, trading through the ocean of bodies. The music makes your head hurt, the air becoming suffocating to you. The smell of various drugs permeates, making you want to vomit. Still, you keep going. You look for the gold armband in a blur of blue, keeping your hand on your gun under your coat. You hear Jeno’s voice through your headset, “I can’t find him! Any luck on your side?” 

You scream into your voice function, “No! I can’t! It’s too loud and there’s too many people!”

Before you turn away, you see someone. There’s someone who stands a few feet away from you,  shrouded in a white outfit but a mask for a face. They call it a virtual glamour, to disguise the real person’s face. From the looks of it, the person- male it looks like he’s staring right at you. You scream at Jeno, “Wait- there’s someone! I’m following them!”

“Wait for me!”

You hang up on Jeno, pinging him your location as you make your way to the person. They turn tail and run and you leap over drunk people who have crashed to the ground as you try not to lose them. Finally, you chase the person through a series of tapestries until you reach the back exit. Shoving the door open, you enter back onto the street, glancing around for the mysterious vigilante. 

Then, in an instant, the white clothed figure points a gun at you, “Who the hell are you?”

It happens like oil being added to fire, exploding your heart into a million rapid beats, making your knees grow weak. That voice. That voice. You hold your hands up, turning to face them, trying to see through the glamor. Like a glitch, the glamor flickers in and out and it takes your breath away.

 The face that you see is identical to Mark’s.

“I asked, who are you?”

You fall to the ground weakly, your hand curling in the dirt, “How is this possible- there’s no way- no, I saw you die that night! this isn’t real!

”You start to wail, “Mark! It’s me! Y/n!”

Mark raises his eyebrow in fury, “Who?! How do you know my name?! Where are you from?!”

He doesn’t recognize you. Is it really him? But he looks exactly the same. His eyes, his lips, his cheeks. His frame. It’s all the same. 

You point your gun at him, starting to sob, “Mark- please! It’s me!”

In an instant, Jeno yanks open the door, his hand flying to his gun the moment he sees you and a boy pointing handguns at each other. You scream, “Jeno, don’t shoot!”

Jeno puts his gun up, making his way to you by putting a protective stance in front of you. But that’s when it dawns on him, who is he staring at? The face of his brother, his best friend, his comrade on the streets from childhood. Jeno screams at him, his ears burning red from the cold, “Who are you?! Why are you using Mark’s face as a glamor! Show yourself impostor!”

Mark knits his eyebrows together, unclipping his white cloak, revealing a cyber-kinetic arm that’s sparking with electricity and tiny wires. The gears in it churn with gold ropes, the circle on Mark’s palm glowing red, “I don’t know who you people are, but tonight will be your last night alive!”

Just when Jeno is about to pull the trigger, you shove him, the bullet ricocheting off the ground. You launch your whole body in front of Mark, even though you’re tripping over yourself and with your whole heart you shove your necklace in his face. It’s a portrait of you and Mark from back then, a gift from Mark for your birthday. 

Tears are streaming down your face and you swear that your heart is going to burst from how fast it’s going, “Please! Just listen to us, please. I need you to see.”

You grip the chain of the necklace, watching his expression fade from anger to confusion. He runs the pad of his thumb on the picture, “It seems that this is me. But how-”

You shake your head wildly, “I don’t know. But don’t you get it? you used to know us! You used to know me!”

Mark shakes his head, “This is impossible, I work for an organization. I always have. I’m a machine! I would have never crossed paths with you.”

You look back at Jeno, and you see him shake. He treads slowly towards you, “Don’t you want to find out? You have two options. You can kill us now or find out what happened. We’re your only lead.”

Mark lowers his arm, the fire in his palm dimming, “I don’t wish to find out because I assume what you’re saying is some made up scenario. I suggest we don’t run into each other in the future. I won’t be so merciful.”

Like that, Mark swings his white cape on, hiding his face under his hood. He types in a code that appears in front of him, a white motorcycle appearing in its place. Hopping on, he speeds way down the street, leaving you and Jeno alone in the musty night. Tears stain your cheeks, “I have to go after him, Jeno. I don’t expect you to follow me.”

Jeno stands next to you, putting an arm around your shoulder, “We. We’re going after him. We have to.” 

You and Jeno hop back on your hoverboards, disappearing into the dark. 

[heli0s-writes]

IV. A Commitment*

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes Summary:  Natasha teaches you how to kiss. Tony gives you an opportunity. A/N: Part 4 of Mystery of Love. . (*) denotes NSFW!!  

At 23, you were struggling to have a conversation about … it.

It was almost three weeks since your moment on Steve’s couch with him and Bucky. Their touches on your skin haunted you day and night, and it made your work at the compound significantly more difficult than you could have ever imagined. It was hard to find clarity under such zealous and watchful eyes, and the distance you continued to keep them at would eventually be thwarted. You had to ask Pepper for an extension on your assignment mid-May before it got too out of hand. She happily obliged, very understanding of your predicament. The deadline was extended indefinitely, but having no schedule threw you further off course.

In an effort to control at least your personal life, you allowed yourself to spend time with Steve and Bucky in small bursts, intent on not repeating another couch-event. They each had very different approaches of being in your presence, you found out. Steve was happy to accompany you to galleries and the store if he was already in town- which he often was whether it be by coincidence or intention.

You took walks with him through the park, had coffee together, read the paper, and laughed at the comic strips. You’d go to bookstores where he’d browse non-fiction and history while you showed him some of your favorite art books, teaching him about famous artists and their vision. Your conversations were light and full of laughter.

Once, he met you at a local bar and you discovered his passion for sports- one you didn’t share but were happy to appreciate. You didn’t even know the championship game was going on that day and in the middle of it it’d become so rambunctious (someone recognized him!) that the two of you had to run out before it could conclude.

 Physically, Steve was rather indulgent of your reservations. He’d hold your hand in private and brush his fingers over your knuckles in public. More than the touches, it was his gaze that sent your blood rushing. He perfected that slow lingering sweep with his eyes. There was no fervent message to be analyzed behind those blue-green gazes—only a simple feeling. And that feeling he held for you was incomprehensible. It swept you away.

It wasn’t like you didn’t want to be physical or intimate because you loved the feel of the pads of his fingers and his callused palms. Or that smooth line of his winning smile, tilting upwards on one side. You constantly thought about those rough edges of Steve Rogers on your body.

It was rather that you were so fearful of crushing all the eggshells under your feet labelled “Steve and Bucky’s Tentative and Healing Friendship”.

Oh, you knew about The Winter Soldier and HYDRA. You’d gotten the quick and dirty version from Steve after your initial meeting with Bucky; the wipes, the assassinations, the complete and utter control they had on him for 70 years. The image of him in ice seared itself into your brain, the thought of them putting him up when they were finished using him killed you.

You weren’t just heartbroken, you were livid. You couldn’t help but take it so personally and you couldn’t quite explain why to Steve as you sobbed uncontrollably in the kitchen that morning except rasping breaths of goddamn it, oh god, Bucky. By the time Bucky returned from his run, your eyes were swollen and pink, bottom lip nearly chewed through.

You buried your face in his chest and whispered that you were happy to have him in your life and nothing else. There couldn’t be anything else yet. He was still raw, and you couldn’t tear him open any more.

 Spending time with Bucky was significantly different, and a much more delicate task than Steve. He was hesitant to go into the city, a choice you understood completely so you never asked. Instead the two of you spent lots of time on separate sides of couches with tea and a book, careful not to sit too close. He’d gladly sit with a movie on while you worked on editing your many files.

After travelling for so long, you wanted to pick up your old hobbies again, so you started to make small meals at the compound. Bucky was hardly a cook by any means, but always seemed to know when you needed an ingredient from the cupboard and before you could fumble to reach for it, he’d have already set it next to your hand.

The conversations were short, and as you expected, he never divulged anything meaningful. After you had the talk with Steve, Bucky often sent you precarious glances, worried you might lash out because of his past. When you carried on as usual, the weight lifted from his shoulders.

Bucky was more physical, to say the least. He tried to respect your boundaries, but it wasn’t unlike him to push them from time to time. Unlike Steve’s tender gazes, Bucky stared intensely and openly. There were many a time when you’d look up from your book to see him on the other side of the sectional, staring straight through the pages and right at your face. His fingers would be tapping on his knee. When you’d finally see it and swallow nervously, he’d smirk and look back to his book.

Or you’d sit on the floor with your laptop open on the coffee table and Bucky would have silently moved from his supposed area on the couch to directly behind you. He’d lean over close, so that his breath would tickle your ear and ask you innocently about the picture you were working on. It never failed to send shivers up your spine and elicit wide, devilish grins from him.

It was his favorite game. It set you on fire.  

And so it was that you attempted to balance your time with both men, as they navigated their own schedules of work, training, and rehabilitation.

You also tried to retain any semblance of your employment to Stark Industries.

You snapped pictures here and there, trying your best to maintain the illusion of your contract. There were some exceptional ones of the interior but photographing the Avengers themselves was challenging. Especially when it came to Bucky. He could sense any time you were in the room and strictly refused to ignore your presence. There were no candids taken of Bucky Barnes; he simply did not allow it. He never stopped staring at you.

At the end of May, you put the assignment on pause and decided instead to focus on the photos from your travels. Pepper kindly put up a room for you so you didn’t have to make the trip to and from the compound, but you were afraid that being in such close(ish) quarters with Steve and Bucky would lead to complications. She was very understanding at your hesitance and careful not to pry but left the offer open if you had any questions. You contemplated asking her, but in the end decided to save your queries for someone less motherly and more straightforward.

 When you turned up at Natasha’s room, she hardly seemed surprised. She had two Irish Mules set on coasters on the small coffee table. You took a sip, licking your lips at the lime and ginger beer; she could really make a drink. It would have been bad to get drunk quickly and spill all your secrets, but there was something about her presence that was tossing out all pretense. You supposed the phrase, “You can’t bullshit a bullshitter” was especially applicable with Natasha.

The first query slipped out before you could catch it.

“Does it hurt?”

The right corner of her lips lifted, but her eyebrows raised in sympathy at your innocent question. It was a valid one, of course, and it was right of you to ask it. Natasha assured you that discomfort is normal at first since you’d never experienced it before- but that they both should be treating you respectfully, kindly, and lovingly. She restated that there was nothing wrong with taking it slow, finding your own pace and easing into it, and doing what you feel is comfortable.

When you told her you’d never kissed anyone before and that Bucky sucking on your finger probably didn’t count, she sputtered up a bit of her cocktail mid-drink. She didn’t specify whether it was because you’d never been kissed or if it was the... other thing.

“I don’t even know how it works. There’s two of them.” You’d been stuck on it all month. You’d have to decide in the end, and sure, maybe Bucky wasn’t jealous when Steve kissed your hand or when you’d go out with him but what if they started fighting about who got to do what with you. It wasn’t like they were each others’ soulmates. You complained to Natasha more freely at the end of your mug.

What if they didn’t like how you looked?! What if you were bad in bed? What if they got bored after seeking the physical aspects? What if that was all that became of your relationship?

She had listened to your rambling briefly but became determined to put a stop to the madness and set down her drink.

“You have to stop being so crazy, those two are closer than you or I can imagine. You might need to be convinced about the validity of being Soulmates, but those old boys do not. They have committed.”

There was that word again, you thought.

“And, if you’re so worried about your first kiss...” A single red brow raised itself high up her forehead, “I can show you. No more worrying about who kissed you first.” Natasha set her copper mug down with a definitive clink.

It might have been the drink that was making you brave, or the desperation of wanting some relief to your constant distress, because you eagerly said yes. Natasha had brushed back loose strands of your hair with her hand and propped herself up on her knees. She hovered over you, letting her locks fall over your face.

“Is this okay?”

You nodded, captivated. You could feel your eyes fluttering as she lowered her lips to yours in a single tranquil movement. Her warm breath pleasantly caressed your mouth as she kissed you. Natasha’s lips were soft and full, velvety with every parting and descent. One hand came to cup your jaw, pulling you closer and deeper into her motions. You didn’t expect the sound your mouths made against each other- the smacking was half disturbing, half arousing.

She had seemed like a good kisser, but it was almost a clinical experience, whether it was because it was a learning moment from a friend, or if it was because you were so concentrated on memorizing Natasha’s actions, that made it not quite enjoyable as the movies tried to portray. There were no string quartets harmonizing in the background or doves flying, only the lax pulse of your heart in your own ears.

When she finally pulled away, you were expectant for another one; you wanted to learn. She cocked her head at your silence.

“How was it?” You had thought about it for a second before answering truthfully, “Noisy...”

Natasha howled with laughter. When she gathered herself enough to speak again, her raspy voice was slightly a little more hoarse than usual.

“Kid,” she gasped, “The noises are the best part, trust me.”

The unexpected statement made your abdomen clench. You vaguely wondered what kind of noises Steve and Bucky might make, but hurriedly squashed them. Linger on that one for too long, and you’d burst.

After another half hour of fielding questions, she finally sent you back to your quarters with a flash-drive in hand, disclosing to you that it was her personal collection of “friendly” pornography- which made your entire body flush crimson. It was for you to watch, explore, fantasize about, and maybe get some ideas before the day arrives. Before opening the door, Natasha called your name sternly.

“Remember when I asked you if it was okay before I kissed you?”

You nodded.

“There is nothing wrong with that. In fact, they should be asking you. Porn does not capture all the real-life shit that happens during sex. There is nothing embarrassing about asking questions, voicing your needs and desires, and talking to each other. You’re not going to be awesome at it the first time. But you’ve got the rest of your life to practice.”

You thanked her sincerely. There was nowhere else that you were going to receive this kind of lesson and you really wanted her to know. Natasha shooed you out of her room, pointing to the flash drive gripped tight in your fist.

“Go rub out some good ones for me, okay?”

With a wink and playful slap on your ass, she promptly kicked you out but not before deftly tucking a flask of whiskey under your arm. You shoved the deviant things as deep into the pocket of your jeans as possible and wandered to the guest room Pepper had set up. You often took naps in there, and it would have been a better idea to go home, but you were strangely eager. Bucky and Steve were in the shooting range this evening, so you hoped they’d be fully distracted with loud gunfire and not sniff you out with 100 gigabytes of porn in your pocket.

 Once safe in the comfort of the room, you tentatively launched a window on your laptop, headphones jacked in, one bud hanging loose. Your door was locked all the way, and you had wiggled the handle thrice just to be safe, satisfied when nothing budged.

 Natasha’s files were categorized into multiple folders and subfolders. You made a mental note to thank her for such thorough and thoughtful placement of the videos, sorted and titled by extremely efficient keywords. She had a deliberate folder of multiple threesome videos, just for you, and you promptly decide to never bring it up any of it. Reading the titles alone made your legs tingle; your mind couldn’t help but automatically fit Steve or Bucky in the fantasy.

You fired up the first video, reaching over to the small nightstand to inhale two fingers of whiskey for good measure. It burned your insides going down but became a relief when it took your mind off the fire in your cheeks at the performance unfolding on your dim screen. Once again, your brain replaced the two male actors with your respective soulmates, and yourself as the woman sitting in the middle of the bed.

Of course you’d masturbated before, you weren’t a nun, for crying out loud; some bodily tension could only be relieved in a certain way. And it just so happened since the Binding, you were in the habit of doing it much more, anyway. It was difficult to spend all day with Bucky’s burning gaze and Steve’s feather light touches and expect yourself to immediately fall asleep...

Your phone lit up as two large hands caress the actress’ shapely thighs.

Tony’s face blinked on the screen. You ignored it, concentrated on thick fingers peeling the flimsy material of a lacy bralette down. Open-mouthed sloppy kisses begin between the woman and the man on the left as the one on the right cups the breast closest to him in a firm hold. You imagined a ghostly touch on your own chest and shuddered. One hand imitated the actions between the woman’s legs: feather-light touches interspersed with solid grips. The tickle creates chills that crawl all over your skin.

Tony face blinked again on your phone.

You fixed your posture against the headboard of your bed and flexed your legs, straightening them for a more relaxed pose. Your palm traced over the slope of your thighs as they dipped into a valley in the middle, slowly you brought your other hand to your chest, following the line of Steve’s Words. Bucky’s eyes flashed in your mind when one of the men catches the woman’s fingers in his mouth in a hard suck. The woman’s free hand and palms the opposite man’s crotch, rubbing slow circles around the tent in his jeans. He sucks in a low hiss of air and groans lightly, a profane word wiggling its way out of his mouth. In your left ear, it sounded like Steve.

F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice filling the room sent you into shock.

“Mr. Stark is requesting your presence in the living quarters.”

In a panic, you slammed your hands down on the keyboard of your laptop multiple times, silently screaming when the headphone jack falls out and there’s moaning repeatedly being paused and played in the darkness of your room.

“How does he--”

“Mr. Stark had me do a sweep of the rooms to find you.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.!!”

“Mr. Stark does not know what you are watching.”

You grumbled, accepting the interface’s comment. Sometimes it was hard for you to remember that she wasn’t an actual person since she so often responded in very human ways, including predicting your source of embarrassment. You flopped down on the bed, muffling your face in the soft comfort of your pillow, catching the smell of your whiskey-sour breath.

“Please tell Mr. Stark I’ll be coming,”

“That's an interesting choice of words, ma’am.”

Another scream was muffled in the pillow before you trudged your body out of the guest room.

As soon as you stepped foot into the gathering space, a tiny firework was popped in your face, colorful confetti flying from it into the air and scattering itself in your hair. You shrieked, naturally. There were some cheers and whooping from those in the room: Steve, Natasha, and Pepper. Your heart was pounding in response.

“Hey kid! Congrats! I got some news for you.” Tony beamed widely, slapping both hands firmly on your shoulders, “What is that, whiskey? Do I smell whiskey? Good shit, too. What is that? You drinkin’ Yamazaki?”

You cleared your throat and pressed your lips together firmly, hoping Tony would get the message, eye catching Natasha’s cat-like grin in the process. He clucked his tongue before pointing to the wall to your left where an e-mail was being projected. You briefly glanced it over as the room watched on, flicking bits of neon plastic from your head.

The e-mail thread was between Tony and Kristopher Byrne, the former director of the Museum of Modern Art, singing your praises. Your eyebrows raised higher and higher the further down the e-mail chain you went, and eventually it felt like they might fly off your face altogether. Byrne was pushing meeting you, possibly having a dinner together, possibly a position of employment with a local university or being a permanent fixture at one of his private galleries.

There was a choking noise you were vaguely aware of coming out of your mouth- and it wasn’t from excitement.

There was a reason you didn’t pursue a higher degree in the Fine Arts. There was a reason you only gave phone interviews, hardly showed your face, never entered your work in museums, and ran all over the world instead. You hated the attention and the culture of rubbing elbows with the upper crust. Yes, having a secure and stable income is nice- but that was already fulfilled by being employed by Stark Industries, and you never really needed more than that.

“I really appreciate it, Tony,” you began gesturing to the screen, hoping to not offend him, “But you don’t have to do this on my behalf.”

Tony put a hand over the ACDC logo and dimly glowing light on his chest, “I love nepotism as much as the next guy, trust me, but I did not schmooze him, he schmoozed me. He schmoozed me a lot, kid, and it was to get to you. He’s been asking about you for years.”

“Can you stop saying schmooze?” Pepper called, raising her hand primly, “You make it sound so gross, Tony.”

“Look, he just wants to have dinner. With you. And some friends.” Tony shrugged, as if the lift of his shoulder could so easily discard the rest of the statement hanging in the air. You knew that Kristopher Byrne did not just want to have dinner.

“What kind of dinner?” Bucky piped from the background. You turned your head to him, lingering in the back; he must have just come in after a shower. His wet hair was tied into a low knot at the nape of his neck, a few strands hanging loosely. You tried to hide a smile at his protective questioning.

“And what kind of friends?” Steve added, arms now crossed as he sat down on the couch.

Natasha gave a knowing look to Pepper as if to communicate that Tony couldn’t hide his agenda with both Bucky and Steve at his heels. Throwing his hands up he rolled his eyes with a histrionic lament, “Wow. You overprotective geriatrics really suck the fun out of my life, you know that? Great. Cover’s blown, F.R.I.D.A.Y.! Give me the real deal.”

The projection against the wall was hastily replaced with a different e-mail chain, one that very specifically requested a formal show of your most recent work post-travels, as well as a special request for never-before-seen Avengers portraits. You released a loud, disappointed groan, taking two big steps to the wall and jabbing your finger at the mass of text.

“This is why.” You ran your pointer under the phrase “black tie event” and shook your head. “This isn’t my life, Tony. It’s your life.”

“Yeah, I thought you’d say that.” You felt set up. His abruptly somber tone meant that he was about to drop some shit on you that would change your perspective.

“This is my life,” Tony began, pausing for effect before taking two fingers and waving it broadly over the room, making sure to catch Bucky and Steve in his radius. “And it’s their life, too. You think Cap’s not obligated to formal events? He’s a national treasure, kid. And Winter Dead-Eyes over there is America’s new Redemption Sob Story.”

Bucky growled, but was quickly silenced by the outline of Steve’s turning profile.

“You’re Bound to them; you can’t wander the world at your whim anymore. This is a golden opportunity dropping into your lap. One black-tie event with Byrne gets your foot in a lot of doors. He’ll make you a permanent faculty member at Tisch in two years if that’s what you want; you’ve got the clout- whether you like it or not.”

The whiskey was making you a little agitated, and it felt like Tony was cornering you into a pocket you weren’t ready to face. These types of decisions required time and deliberation, and twenty minutes ago, you were barely choosing when you were going to have sex in the next week.  

“And if you’re so adamant against nepotism, how do feel being employed by me?”

“Are you saying you continue to employ me because we’re friends?”

“Aren’t we?”

He really did corner you. If you answered no, it would have been too cruel to everyone. If you answered yes, then you’d be a hypocrite, and there would obviously be no reason for you not to take the offer other than the fact that you didn’t want to. Regardless, Tony had a valid point: you couldn’t keep floating. You needed to settle permanently in New York.

You put your face in both hands, feeling the heat rise from your neck.  

Steve stood up from the couch, “That’s enough.” The edge in his voice meant he was serious. He didn’t like seeing you distressed, but you waved him off, eyes still closed.

“I’ll need… time.” You thought your voice might shake, but it didn’t. Your brain was pumping out information that your mouth was glad to blather about, “I need at least a month. I need to work. I need to set up a studio space, I need equipment, need to find my printing guy… Where are we hanging them?” When your eyes opened, Pepper had her hands clasped together over her chest and Natasha gave you two thumbs up. Steve and Bucky, on the other hand, looked concerned.

Tony was grinning like a child in a candy store.

“Leave all of that to me, kid. Date’s set. Last Saturday in June, we’re doing it. Mazel tov! I love a good black-tie event, especially if I’m throwing it.”

-

You went home that night and slammed yourself into bed, tossing and turning for what seemed like hours. Your stomach was churning wrathfully, already expectant of the party. Everything felt like it was falling apart again. You had just barely come to the physical terms of having soulmates, taking small steps to ensure that you were treating them fairly and meeting their needs, yet it seemed like once again, the reality of being Bound was eclipsing your independence.

Steve’s words echoed in your head. It was a commitment. You needed to stay in New York and commit to him. You needed to commit to Bucky.

You picked up the phone when it vibrated and lit up with Steve’s face. A concerned murmur of your name passed through the receiver.

“Hey,” You replied, face pressed into your pillow.

“You okay? You left in a hurry.” He sounded relieved to hear your voice.

“I’ve got a lot on mind, I think.”

In the background was Bucky’s distinct mumble of “What’s she doin’?”

“Did ya get that?” Steve laughed, “Buck’s on edge.”

You shuffled yourself around the bed and snuggled deeper down, imagining the crinkle on Bucky’s forehead and matching crease of Steve’s eyes as he smiled. You suddenly missed them. There was something about the image of them sitting together purposely, talking to you, concerned about you, that opened the floodgates.

You let go.

Steve listened generously as you expressed your hesitations about presenting your work to Kristopher Byrne or any other elite art critic or connoisseur. The thing you dreaded most about art school was the jargon of “artspeak”, the constant performance of socializing with the right people in the right way to get an opportunity. After your solo exhibit of the Soulmate Series, you were so exhausted and disenchanted by the questions and feeling the need to defend yourself that you refused to enter any more exhibitions. It was why you chose to travel instead of pursuing a Masters or making your mark in New York.

Interviews were strictly phone-only for independent magazines or social media websites and you never showed your face. You didn’t want any attention that was not on your work, which was why you were so glad that Pepper was not only a great resume opportunity, but that she was extremely professional. The photos you took of the Avengers were posted for the public relations needs and you were credited only by name.  

“I just want to be a photographer,” you said, “I want to make images and talk about them in way that is digestible for ordinary people. I think photo is a great medium for that because it is so commonplace. Why is necessary to then jumble it all up with pretentious terminology? I want to take photos that are meaningful but even your grandmother could enjoy.”

Steve laughed.

“Okay, maybe not yours, specifically,” You chucked, “But you know what I mean. Photography is ubiquitous, I just so happen to have had also an education and know the theory and mechanics. And I’m lucky enough to work with you guys. But I’m not them. I don’t want to sell a picture for thirty-thousand dollars and have it put up in some guy’s house and never shown again.”

“Give ‘em hell!” Bucky’s voice rang in the background. You were surprised he was still there, listening. It made you happy that he was.

Steve paused, “I think you can do both.”

You sighed. He didn’t understand.

“No, no, listen to me. You can fight it, but you’ll need to be a part of it. You can’t change anything about the system if you’re running from the system. As much as you hate elitist jargon, you know it, and you can participate in it.”

Your brow furrowed, but Steve went on, “Get the faculty position, exhibit in galleries, gain that platform and then you make changes on that platform. Even if you just teach- imagine having 100 students a year that you can pass this to. What were the students like in your college classes?”

“Uppity.” You admitted. “We took such dumb photos and then would critique them in such meaningless ways. Sometimes a sink is just a sink. Sometimes it’s not, but when it is, it really is."

Steve laughed again; the example was lost on him. “Okay. Now what if your professors felt the same way you did?”

“We’d probably hate each other less and experiment more without second guessing ourselves.”

“Don’t you think you want to do that for other students, sweetheart? Even if it means that you’re in the thick of it yourself?” A smile was slowly forming on your face. It only made sense that Steve Rogers was such a revolutionary. It really was such good advice.

“Buck’s right, sweetheart. Go give ‘em hell.” In the background was a satisfied huff and a “Damn right!” for good measure.

“Anything else on your mind?” Steve quietly asked after a moment had passed between you, as if he’d forgotten his friend in the room, highly alert and intently listening, “Anything ‘bout us?”

You breathed a deep sigh, careful not to blow into the phone as you thought about your next words carefully. The anxieties for the show colluded with your anxieties for your future here. Steve knew that; he was only asking to be polite. “Mmm… It’ll keep me close,” You murmured, “That’s good, right?”

“I can’t decide that for you, sweetheart. That’s up to you.” There was a pause, the sound of something hitting the wall softly like a pillow, some fuzzy scratches telling you the phone was moving around, and Bucky with an irritated reprimand: “Wrong answer, punk!”

You laughed mirthfully, feeling your worries rolling off your body as you listened to Steve and Bucky quarrelling on the other end. It felt so natural that you couldn’t help but think maybe this was another good step in the right direction.

More and more each day you could imagine yourself having morning coffee with Steve, watching a movie with Bucky, cooking together, eating dinner, working side by side at the compound. Maybe you didn’t have to settle for brief fifteen-minute walks in the park, and maybe one day Bucky could talk to you about his demons. The three of you could exist together, as you were intended to.

At 23, you made up your mind to stay in New York with Steve and Bucky.

Next Chapter

[fairie-gothmother]

In The Shadow of Starlight, Part 7: Bandit Lyfe

First Part: The Fall 

Previous Part: Gut Instincts

Troy groaned in pain and anger. If every return trip from Sanctuary was going to involve being jammed into a drop pod, they’d better be few and far between. He cursed Lilith for not allowing him to sync with their New-U stations. Immediately after landing at the Crimson Raider base, the old Lieutenant ordered Troy to stay in his room, which had further soured his mood. 

Troy was restless, irritated and still buzzing with energy. He flopped onto the bed, closed his eyes, and attempted to get a grip on himself.

Knock knock.

“What?” Troy snapped.

A gravelly voice called, “I had a feeling that was you in the drop pod.” Raz slipped inside the room. After taking one look at Troy sprawled out on bed, he added, “You look like hell.”

“You’re lucky I’m too sore to get up and strangle you,” Troy threatened half-heartedly, rubbing his aching neck. 

"I take it you didn't have much luck with the scientist," Raz guessed.

The Calypso sighed. "Nope. Managed to get a little extra gas in my tank, though. Long story," Troy indicated by waving his glowing hand before placing it over his eyes.

“Well, now. I’d say that’s cause for celebration. How about I offer you a drink to lift your spirits?”

“Aren’t you on probation?” Troy asked.

“Technically, yes. But what the higher ups don't know won’t hurt ‘em. Or would you rather be a good little Crimson Raider and stay put?” Raz winked and beckoned toward the door.

In response, Troy threw a pillow past Raz’s head hard enough for it to burst into a puff of feathers. 

Raz pulled a feather from his beard. “Hmph. Not even Octavia needed this much convincing. Suit yourself.” With a shrug, he turned to leave.

Troy lowered the second pillow he was about to chuck at his ex-general. “And you left her alone with drunk bandits?” The Calypso jumped up from the bed. He hadn’t taken two steps before he caught the suspicious looks Raz shot at him. Troy wasn’t in the mood. “Alright, you win. I need to blow off some steam anyway.” He shouldered past the shorter man, and they both made their way across the compound.

~~~

Octavia accepted the bottle of rakk ale Raz offered. “Music and booze? Did you happen to organize something that Lieutenant Cramer wouldn’t approve of?” 

“Cramer isn’t invited.” Raz opened his own bottle of ale and clinked it against hers. “Welcome to your first bandit bash.”

The ex-bandit recruits had managed to transform the small lot behind the Crimson Raider compound into a convincing outdoor pub. They handed out drinks and gathered around a bonfire while a radio played upbeat rock music. 

Even Troy had joined in on the event. Octavia hadn’t seen him since he passed out in the medical room, which had been tense and awkward. She ran her gaze over him, careful not to linger long enough to be caught staring. He had his swagger back, siren marks glowing brightly. Once everyone was confident that he wasn’t going to slaughter them, Troy became the life of the party. He was a god among bandits, after all.

Octavia wasn’t sure what she expected, but hanging with bandits was enjoyable. The burn of alcohol in the back of her throat was odd so early in the afternoon, even for a day off, but it was a welcome sensation. Her stress was melting away, emboldening her to let loose a bit. Today was just about having fun. And dammit, she deserved it.

As the day went on, Octavia had consumed enough liquid courage to unglue herself from Raz’s side. One of the younger bandit guys sat next to her at the bar. After some easy conversation and exchanging names, he declared her his new friend. She had unfairly stereotyped him as another blood thirsty idiot. He wasn’t particularly bright, but Octavia was warming up to him.

“And that’s why I don’t like stalkers. Those invisible assholes give me the creeps,” he said, slicking back his ash blonde hair.

Octavia swiveled in her chair to face him, bumping her knees against his in the close space. “So let me get this straight. You don’t think stalkers have tails, but instead have really long-”

“Of course! What else do you think that thing is for?”

“I think it’s just a tail, Collin,” Octavia laughed. 

Collin opened his mouth to argue further but was interrupted by a familiar gravelly voice. 

“Harassing the new girl already?” Raz had reappeared casually smoking at the bar beside them. 

Collin greeted him. “Did you know Octavia is gonna be working in the greenhouse? She-” Collin’s eyes widened when he noticed who was approaching. 

Troy Calypso glanced down at their knees touching with a slight raise of his eyebrows, making Octavia uncomfortable enough to scoot back. His mechanical arm reached across the bar to claim a bottle of liquor, then the Calypso turned back to the entourage following at his heels. Not staring was harder than it should have been. The way he relished in the spotlight with effortless charisma was mesmerizing. 

“What do you think, Octavia?”

Collin’s question pulled her out of her daze, and her face reddened when she realized she’d zoned out on the question.

“Um, sorry. What?”

Collin repeated, “Do you think you could get me in the greenhouse? I’d kill to get out of the shop. I keep trying to convince the foreman to let me make weapon prototypes.”

Raz butted in. “Ha! The last time you presented one of your prototypes, it blew up in your face. Literally. You singed both your eyebrows.” 

Collin sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah.” Then he held up both hands. “But I managed to keep all my fingers.”

“Real cute, punk,” Raz said, flipping the younger man half of a bird.

Octavia couldn’t help but chuckle at their banter. “Wow. You have all your teeth and fingers? Not bad for a bandit.”

Collin flashed an exaggerated smile, displaying all of his pearly whites.

The radio music changed to a poppy dance song. Collin’s face lit up. “Ooh, I love this song!” He jumped up from his seat and extended his hand. “Dance with me.”

Octavia didn’t have time to decline before she was pulled from her chair into the group of bandits dancing around the fire. Even with a buzz, she was not willing to embarrass herself on the dance floor. Collin had moves that put her stiff shuffling to shame. She appreciated his help giving her little spins and twirls. She prayed she could fake it well enough to get through the song.

She glanced around the area to see how many people were watching her make a fool out of herself. Her eyes wandered to Troy, who was basking in the attention of several bandits. Her stomach fluttered when one of the women leaned in closely and whispered into his ear.

“I need another drink,” Octavia said to her dance partner. 

~~~

This was how the Calypso twins spent most of their time in the early days of the Children of the Vault. Partying with their followers, dancing to whatever played on the radio, drinking cheap alcohol. The familiarity was comforting to Troy. The difference with today was the absence of his sister outshining him. 

“I always did like you more than Tyreen,” crooned a female admirer into Troy’s ear.

“Bullshit. You were a total God Queen simp,” said another girl. 

The first woman swatted at the other for calling her out. “You bitch, I only bought her merch because the color goes better with my eyes.”

The ex-God King flashed his golden fangs. “Ya know, that right there is considered false devotion. Do you know how I used to handle the falsely devoted?” he asked sweetly. When the woman shook her head, he placed two fingers of his siren hand beneath her chin and tilted her head to the side. “It meant you'd get your pretty little throat ripped out.”

The woman was so drunk that the threat went completely unrecognized. “Pretty?” she giggled.

Troy rolled his eyes as he released her. He took a swig from the bottle clenched in his mechanical fist. Although he missed having admirers, ones like this annoyed him. Even without his twin here, he still couldn't escape her shadow.

Troy slipped away from his entourage, snuck over to the bar, and told the man behind it to mix him a drink. Where was Raz? He wanted to give him shit for setting up a bar with no lime wedges. Looking toward the edge of the lot, he spotted Octavia sitting by the fence. A young, blonde pretty-boy was attempting to get her to her feet. She shook her head, and pretty-boy gave her a pat on the shoulder before returning to the fireside to dance. Troy ordered a second cocktail and walked over to her. 

“You look thirsty,” Troy said, holding the drink out to her. “I’d say my treat, but open bar and all.”

Octavia looked up in surprise and took the cup with an appreciative smile. “I’d say thanks, but open bar and all.” She took a sip and wrinkled her nose. “What’s this?”

“Lemon Lime & Bullets. Minus the lime.” Troy threw his drink down in one gulp. He watched in amusement as Octavia fished out the bullet from her own cup with her finger. 

“I see what you’re doing. You’re trying to get on my good side,” she said slyly.

“Hm, am I? I guess that depends. Is it working?” he asked with a cocky grin.

“Maybe a little,” she said, taking another sip of her now ammunition-less cocktail.

He sat on the ground beside her, rested his back against the chain link fence, and nodded toward the dancing silhouettes a short distance in front of them. “Let me guess. You don’t dance.”

“It’s not my thing,” she said.

“Aw, come on. Let me teach you some moves. Only slightly provocative ones, I promise.”

She smiled. “Tempting, but I’ll pass.”

Troy huffed, “Alright, fine. You’re no fun. If you don’t dance and you don’t even fit in with these people, what are you doing here?”

Octavia was visibly bothered by the comment. He realized how shitty that sounded and rushed to rephrase. “I mean, it’s cool you’re here. I just don’t get it. There’s a lot I don’t get about you, witchdoctor.” He ruffled her hair with his siren hand.

She pushed his hand away and smoothed her hair back into place. Troy swore he saw a hint of pink in her cheeks. “I’m not sure myself. I never come to these kinds of things, but I guess I thought it might be fun.”

“Well, are you having fun?”

She looked up to meet his eyes. “Yeah. I think I am.” 

Maybe it was the alcohol or the extra energy in his body that was making his brain fuzzy, but in that moment Troy was certain what Octavia wanted. Anticipation hung in the air, along with the suspense that comes when someone flicks their eyes down to your lips and back. She tipped her head back, just enough to give him permission, and then-

A vibration from Troy’s pocket made him jump. “What the hell?” The Echo he’d nicked from Sanctuary nearly vibrated out of his pocket. There was a message.

//Unknown_User//: smile 4 the camera :)

The display automatically opened a live video feed showing a man and a woman sitting on the ground with their backs against a chain link fence. Troy recognized the back of his own head. Oh fuck.

“Boom time, heretics!” a voice shouted from behind.

Thinking fast, Troy grabbed Octavia and shielded her against the blast. The force from the explosion sent the two of them tumbling across the ground.

“Vi, you need to run.”

“B-but what-,” she squeaked. 

“Now!” he ordered, and she took off toward the base.

The fence had been blown open. Bandits and psychos were pouring inside, firing guns and swinging buzzaxes. Cambots floated through the air above, recording the onslaught.

“Alright then, party crashers. Let's dance.” Troy opened his mechanical hand, and his sword digistructed into his palm. A smile spread impossibly wide across his face until the jaw split open at the modified hinges. The God King slashed through the crowd, decapitating and disemboweling. He roared, shredding throats open with his jaws. Psychos screamed as he crushed their skulls in his mechanical hand. The popping of bone, the squishing of flesh, the warmth of blood. So much red. It was a rush of euphoria.

A cambot hovered overhead focused on Troy. The Calypso snatched up a bandit by the neck. “You assholes weren't invited,” he growled, somewhat garbled through his open jaws.

The bandit choked, “Tyreen will protect me...The Reaping... shall purge-” The rest was lost as neck tendons stretched and snapped until the bandit’s head was ripped off. Troy flung the severed head at the cambot, sending it spinning through the air.

Alarms sounded from the Crimson Raider base. Soldiers emerged from the building and joined the fight against the invaders. Across the lot, Raz shot at multiple cultists who were retreating with a large metal cage. Troy sprinted over to him. “Raz, it’s the Reaping.”

“I know. The bloody bastards are taking prisoners,” Raz yelled, reloading his rifle. 

More cages were being hauled outside the fence and loaded into COV vehicles. Troy gave chase, using the broad side of his blade to block the barrage of gunfire. He reached the nearest cage and slashed into the cultists. So much red. Troy pulled the door off the hinges and freed the Raider recruits inside. Another cage was nearby. 

“Let me go!” cried out the voice of Octavia. Her hands swung at her captors from within the bars.

Troy made a run for it. His blood boiled. Every single one of these fuckers was going to die. Everything he saw was red. Red. With his blade raised, prepared to carve these cultists into pieces, he was blindsided with a sucker punch to the face. The blow made him stumble.

Double images swirled in Troy’s vision until he shook it off. Before him stood a familiar white haired siren, wiping away specks of his blood from her knuckles. “Well, this is annoying. I thought you’d be dead by now, but here you are chumming it up with the Crimson Traitors,” said Tyreen.

Troy’s jaws clicked shut so he could properly articulate. “Guess you’re just getting sloppy. The God Queen must be losing her touch,” he snarled and lunged at Tyreen. She easily dodged him with a sidestep, but Troy kept running past her. Octavia’s cage had been dragged outside of the fence. He could make it.

“Stop running, dear brother. Fight me!”

“What’s the matter, Ty? Can’t keep up?”

In a flash of fire, Tyreen teleported in front of him. Putting all his momentum behind it, the taller Calypso slammed his metal fist into the side of his twin’s head. Tyreen lost her footing and was thrown back several feet. Once again, he ran for the cage now being loaded into a COV vehicle. He could still make it. Troy was close enough to see the fear in those cultists’ eyes. 

An electric pain hit Troy in the back, halting him in his tracks. It spread in a fiery trail through his entire body. He gasped, pulling air into his burning lungs. Still he continued moving forward, watching the world blur through his eyelashes. 

“Do you actually care about what happens to a bunch of vault thief wannabes?” Tyreen asked, slowly approaching with purple sparks dancing around her fingertips.

Another shot of electricity ripped through his insides. Troy squeezed his eyes closed. He felt his fingernails dragging across the dirt, not remembering when he hit the ground. He forced one eye open to see the COV vehicles pulling off.

A sharp kick to Troy’s stomach lurched his guts, causing bile to rise in his throat. Tyreen grabbed a fistful of his black hair and lifted his head, forcing him to watch her follower’s vehicles speeding away. “You do care, don’t you? Which one is it, I wonder.” The siren signaled to a cambot overhead. It swooped down and displayed a projection before the two of them.

They were scenes of the party from earlier today. It cycled from the dancers around the bonfire to Troy surrounded by admirers to people laughing at the bar to… Troy involuntarily whimpered at the image. 

“Jackpot,” Tyreen smiled wickedly. The projection showed Troy and Octavia, sitting on the ground together. “She is cute. Don’t worry, Troy. I’ll take good care of her.”

With more strength than someone her size should rightfully possess, Tyreen lifted her brother by the throat with one arm. Troy gagged and clawed at the fingers closing around his airways. Her blue siren marks pulsed as she activated her powers. 

“Now, do me a favor and die this time.”

Troy struggled against the leech. His chest throbbed as his movements shifted the crystals forming inside it. He couldn’t fight, couldn’t scream. He felt his eyes water, and his arms went limp at his sides. 

I wasn’t strong enough... I’m sorry.

~~~

“Eat shit, devil bitch!”

Lieutenant Cramer’s rocket hit the Calypsos, detonating into a plume of smoke and fire. Raz was concerned for Troy due to the size of the blast, but they were out of options, and Cramer was out of patience.

A hush fell over the field. The remaining Raiders and recruits had their sights focused on the smoke cloud, unable to see the twins inside it. Raz steadied his breath aiming down his rifle’s scope. 

Suddenly, something came flying from the smoke and landed heavily on the ground in front of the Raiders. Raz’s heart sank when he noticed the lifeless form of Troy lying before him. His skin was grey and glistened with purple crystals. Raz had to resist the urge to run to him. The God Queen emerged from the dust, not showing an ounce of remorse.

“Ya know, it is too easy taking your stuff. I was hoping for something more than just a few sparks,” Tyreen brushed the dust from her jacket. “I’m starting to feel kinda bad for you, so I’ll leave you a participation trophy.” She pointed to her brother’s form in the dirt and laughed maniacally. 

“Open fire!” commanded Cramer. The air erupted with thundering gunfire. The siren was too quick. She teleported out of sight in a flash of flames.

Raz rushed to the fallen Calypso, sliding on his knees. The light of his siren marks was dead, small crystals sprouted from his body in clusters. The bearded man put an ear to the cold skin of Troy’s bare chest. A heartbeat. The son of a bitch was still alive.

“He’s alive!” Raz yelled.

Cramer spoke into his Echo, “Base to Sanctuary. Commander Lilith, the damned devil bitch herself and her cultists attacked us. Many injured, more M.I.A. and Troy’s about to find out if the Great Vault exists because he’s a few breaths away from death.”

Raz could hear Lilith’s voice from where he still knelt by Troy’s side. “Damn! We’ll get them back, don’t worry. But we can’t afford to lose Troy now.” Lilith paused. “We don’t have any other choice. Give him blood.”

Raz looked the body up and down, then spoke up, “But he hasn’t lost much blood.”

“No.” Lilith sighed into the Echo, bracing herself for what she was about to say. “He needs to drink blood. Tannis thinks... There’s no time to explain. Just do it.”

No rest for the wicked. Eh, mate? Just hold on a little longer.

[eeveedel]

PLS WRITE SUMN W CHUBBY ALPHA HARRY.. MAAM.....

okayyyyy :) 

This is literally the most wild drabble I’ve ever written, I loved this idea and then on Twitter I got some food kink requests so here we are. 

Please be advised his fic contains adult content intended for 18+ audiences, as well as chubby/fat kink and sexual feeding. If that at all makes you uncomfortable or is triggering to you please don’t read. If you’re interested, then enjoy some unedited stupid boys, rushed and messy sex, and a dumb ending xo 

–

Pool parties were Louis’s favorite part of summer.

Aside from the chance it gave him to survive the summer heat wave by mooching off his much richer friend’s pool, parties like this also gave him an excuse to wear his dumbest swimsuits, like the palm-leaf covered Speedo he had chosen today. He loved nothing more than doing sloppy, half-remembered flips off the diving board and draping himself over one of Liam and Zayn’s stupid novelty pool floaties while he let the sun deepen his tan, all while letting as much of his body as possible be shown off in his tin swimwear.

Most of all, he liked doing all that while feeling his alpha’s gaze on him.

Louis shifted on the hot pink inflatable pool chair he had planted himself on, and looked at the side of the pool.

Harry had laid down in one of the poolside loungers, bone dry and drinking a beer while he watched Louis in the pool.

He looked fucking delicious. He always did, but something about the sight of Louis’s alpha in an old swimsuit, his round, soft belly flopping a little over the waistband, made him feel hot all over.

Louis should be used to his boyfriend’s body enough to not almost get a stiffy in public over it, and yet here they were. He had first met Harry over a year and a half ago, when Harry had spilled his rum and Cherry Coke all over Louis’s new white shirt at Niall’s annual Christmas party. Louis had cursed him out thoroughly before actually looking up and immediately going quiet at the gaze of a tall, warm-looking alpha in front of me. An alpha who also was sporting a sizable beer gut belly under a very old looking t-shirt, which made Louis’s chest warm up for some reason.

After gazing at his alpha for a few more moments, Louis rolled off the floatie and into the water. He swam over to the nearest pool ladder so he could climb out, and then once he was out of the pool he promptly flopped down on the lounge chair with Harry. Immediately, put his arms around the alpha’s middle and his chin on Harry’s shoulder, giving his round cheek a kiss.

“Hi, alpha,” Louis giggled, throwing a leg over Harry’s lap. Harry smiled at him, his sunglasses dipping down his nose so he could give Louis a full, bright green glance.

“Hey, baby,” he said, skimming his fingers over Louis’s dripping wet skin, “You want a towel?”

“No, I think I’ll air dry,” Louis said, “Mind if I stay here?”

Harry kissed the side of Louis’s head and squeezed his hip.

“Not at all.”

Louis smiled and snuggled into Harry’s shoulder, absentmindedly rubbing his hand over his alpha’s sun-warmed skin.

Zayn and Niall had taken up the loungers next to Harry’s own chair, both of them looking half-asleep and at least a little burned. A minute later, Liam emerged from the sliding glass door at the back of his grossly huge house to hand Zayn a beer and give the omega a kiss. Then he sat down on the last free lounger, lifting up a glass of clear liquid and lime rinds to his lips.

“Liam,” Niall said, “Is that tequila? At two in the afternoon?[if !supportLineBreakNewLine][endif]

Liam shrugged and nodded.

“Yup,” Liam said, “I’m cutting out glutton for the summer. No beer.”

“Fine, but tequila? Straight ass tequila?” Niall argued.

“It’s better than you think!”

Niall grunted at that, sliding his sunglasses up to rest in his sun-bleached hair.

“Whatever. You’re always on some weird fucking health kick. Last year you ate that weird cold salad out of a Ziploc bag all of June.”

“It’s called farro, and it did wonders to my bum, I’ll have you know.”

Liam took another sip of his tequila, and then smiled at all of them.

“You know, I’m thinking of do P90X again, too,” he announced, “I’m trying to start a little club to do it in the afternoons, make it easier.”

“P90X?” Niall repeated, “The fuck is this, 2009?”

“Fuck off, it’s still effective,” Liam scoffed.

“Well, count me out,” Niall said.

“Yeah, babe, you know I’m not doing that,” Zayn added, making Liam sigh.

“God, whatever,” he turned to Harry, pointing at him with his beer bottle, “Styles? You in?”

“No thanks,” Harry shrugged.

“Oh, come on,” Liam laughed, “No offense man, but you could use it more than any of us. You really let yourself go since uni.”

Harry snorted, taking another swig of his beer.

“I’m alright right now, thanks,” Harry said, and squeezed Louis’s hip, “Besides, Louis’s not really into six packs, are you baby?”

Louis blushed, and prodded Harry with an elbow.

So maybe Harry was right. Louis had seen pictures of Harry when he was in university, when he probably weighed less than Louis.; knew exactly what Liam was referring to when he said Harry had let himself go a little bit. Harry had once told him that he reckoned he had gained about 40 pounds in beer, take out, and office job laziness since then, but he never seemed upset by that. And while Louis could appreciate pictures of Harry’s old physique, it didn’t hold a candle for him compared to what his boyfriend looked like now.

But just because he had a kink for his boyfriend being chubby didn’t mean their entire friend group needed it spelled out for them.

“Shut up,” he grumbled.

Harry chuckled, and drained his bottle.  

“Speaking of six packs,” he said, “Louis, baby, can you go get me another beer?”

“Isn’t that like your fourth today?” Niall said, “How are you drinking more than me and you’re not even buzzed?”

Harry patted the side of his belly with a smirk.

“Higher alcohol tolerance,” he said, “Guess it comes with letting yourself go.”

Louis flushed again, and then peeled himself away from Harry’s side, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll go grab that beer for you, babe,” Louis said. He got to his feet, looking at everyone else, “You guys need anything?”

“I need you not to cream yourself on my patio,” Zayn jutted in.

“Fuck you,” Louis snapped, and then grabbed the handle of the sliding glass door.

“Hey, Liam, remember when you ate six bananas a day for a month in uni and ended up in the hospital with B12 deficiency?” Niall asked from behind him, which made Liam scoff angrily and then begin ranting about something he had read in a fitness journal that month.

Louis glanced behind him, and was just able to catch Harry looking at him over his shoulder. The alpha gave him a wink, a grin spreading on his face to make a dimple form in one of his padded cheeks.

Louis swallowed thickly and went inside.

–

They got home late, after the boys had talked them into a few more beers and kicking a football around Liam and Zayn’s backyard. By the end, Louis was bone tired, and he nearly had to drag himself through the front door of his own house, his ass still squeezed into his wet Speedo and his arms held down by several containers of leftovers.

He flicked on the kitchen light, Harry close behind him as he opened the fridge to put the leftovers inside.

“That was fun,” Louis said, looking over at his boyfriend.

“It was,” Harry sighed, slumping against the wall. His hands found their way to his stomach, and he rubbed it in slow, gentle circles, “M’fucking stuffed, though.”

He patted his middle, and it sounded firm and hollow. Louis just looked at him, trying to keep his breath normal. Harry was staring at him in the same firm way he had been looking at Louis swimming in the pool. He looked gorgeous, with his long hair tied up and his skin healthy and glowing from the sun. He was wearing the shirt he had put on once they were done at the pool; a yellow Hawaiian shirt covered in green and pink palm leaves. The bottom two buttons were tight against his middle, a bit of his tan skin showing through where the fabric didn’t quite cover him.

“Oh,” Louis said, “Uh – had a bit too much, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” Harry grinned, “Can’t tell what was the mistake, that third burger or all that potato salad you brought me.”

He patted his belly again, and Louis turned away. He tried to ignore how his traitor of a cock was already chubbing up.

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” Harry arched an eyebrow.

“Don’t talk about how full you are.”

“What, I am?” Harry said. He sighed fully, and his belly pushed out. He stroked his hand up the line of buttons that ran down his front. “Hope I don’t pop one of these, I think this shirt.”

“Harry, shut your fucking mouth, I need to take a shower,” Louis snapped, his face already turning red. He snapped the fridge closed and tried to walk past, but Harry grabbed his wrist.

“Do you?”

“Yes, I have chlorine in my hair, it’ll be so dry in the morning if I don’t condition it,” Louis said, “That’s basic science.”

It made Harry laugh, and he let go of Louis’s wrist.

“M’kay, baby,” Harry chuckled, “I’ll be in our room when you’re all done.”

Louis nearly jogged away, slipping into their room and then into their en-suite. He took off his shorts and t-shirt, tossing his Speedo into the sink to soak. He was already half-hard and he cursed weakly as he turned the shower on.

Fucking fuck his beautiful, thick alpha. Fucking fuck his own kink. Fuck all of it. He just needed a shower.

He scrubbed his body and hair down quickly, avoiding his dick entirely. He felt wetness between his cheeks that certainly did not come from the showerhead, and he whimpered as he finished up. Quickly, the water was shut off, and Louis almost tripped getting out of the shower. He wrapped his slender waist in a towel and tried to dab at his soaking hair with a washcloth. When it was no longer dripping all over his shoulders, he shook his head hard, trying to clear his thoughts, before he stepped into the bedroom.

Any thoughts of clearing his thoughts were vanquished when he came into the bedroom.

Harry was there, as promised, sitting up in their California king in just in his black briefs, his full beer belly spilling into his lap and his love handles curving over the briefs’ elastic. He was scrolling through his phone, but he looked up and tossed the device away when Louis walked in. Harry grinned and stretched an arm over his head, showing tattoos that had long faded and stretched out with his arm’s growing width.

“Louis,” Harry said, “Perfect timing.”

“Is it,” Louis said weakly.

“Yeah,” Harry said, and then, the treacherous fucking bastard stuck a thumb into his belly button and grabbed the bottom half of his belly with his other four fingers and shook himself, making his stomach jiggle, “Was just thinking I’m not as full as I was a few minutes ago.”

Louis felt his fingers weaken their grip on the towel and it fell down onto the floor, leaving him naked.

“Oh, yeah?” he asked.

“Mm hm,” Harry hummed, “Think I could go for some dessert. Could you get me something?”

Oh, this bitch. This fucking bitch.

“Sure thing,” Louis agreed, his neck warming, “How about some of those brownies Niall made?”

“That sounds great,” Harry agreed.

“Well,” Louis said, his throat feeling tight, “Let me just go grab that.”  

He nearly sprinted out of the room and into the kitchen. Once he was there, his mind was already racing. He grabbed the Tupperware full of the brownies, which were already caramel covered and iced with little frosting flowers. They were probably enough on his own, but he just tucked the container under one arm and kept exploring the fridge.

Harry wanted to play dirty, get Louis riled up and then decide that tonight was a good time for a feeding and a fucking, which he knew made Louis lose his mind. So Louis was going to do better than some leftover brownies.

After rummaging for a bit, Louis picked up a canister of whipped cream, a bottle of chocolate syrup, and the half-gallon of milk they had their fridge. He shut the fridge door with his knee, and managed to carry his haul back to their room.

Once he was back, Harry watched him with interest, and Louis deposited all the food on the bed before he climbed up himself. He sat with his legs bracketing Harry’s legs, the alpha’s warm stomach touching his own.

“Here are your brownies, gorgeous,” he said, picking up the Tupperware and cracking up open. He picked one off the top, holding it out, “Open up.”

Harry opened his mouth, and Louis gently fed him the dessert, his mouth growing drier at how Harry ate without losing eye contact with Louis.

When Harry had the last bite in his mouth, Louis pulled his hand away and licked at his fingers.

“How is it?” the omega asked.

“Mm,” Harry hummed, and then spoke with his mouth still full, “I think it could use something extra.”

“Well, you’re in luck.”

Louis grabbed the whipped cream from his side, holding it up for Harry to see. He shook up the cold canister, and then tipped it upside down, angling it towards Harry’s face.

“You want some, baby?” he asked, his hand already pressed on the nozzle.

“You know I do, honey.”

Harry opened his mouth and Louis nodded, then put the nozzle on Harry’s tongue and pressed. He pressed until the alpha’s mouth was overflowing with whipped cream. Then he brought his mouth down, lapping up some of the cream from Harry’s mouth and then kissing the alpha’s sugar-covered mouth. Harry moaned as he kissed Louis back, his hands reaching back to grab at Louis’s bum. Louis bounced a bit, his ass shaking Harry’s hands.

Louis pulled away after a few moments, and then smiled again.

“Were those brownies chocolate-y enough, alpha?” Louis asked.

“Could be a little more,” Harry said, “Niall skimped on the cocoa powder, I think.”

“That bastard,” Louis laughed, “I would never do that to you.”

He reached for the chocolate sauce then, opening it up and then tipping it into Harry’s mouth. A little spilled over Harry’s lips and chin as Louis squeezed it along Harry’s tongue. Louis quickly closed the bottle and swooped in, licking the sugary sweetness off of Harry. Harry groaned again, his hands squeezing harder at Louis’s bum. The omega gasped against his lips, and he reached down, holding onto Harry’s belly and jiggling it a little.

Harry’s moan turned into a weak growl, but Louis just pulled away from the kiss and smiled at his alpha, grabbing the half gallon of milk.

“Something to wash that down, alpha?” he asked.

Harry watched him with careful eyes, his gaze flashing.

“Sure,” he said.

He opened his mouth again, and Louis tipped the carton to his lips, a little inevitably spilling on his chin and his chest.

“Oops,” Louis giggled when it spilled, “Clumsy me.”

He screwed the milk carton shut, and then went to work, licking the milk off Harry’s chin and then down on his soft chest. He held onto his boyfriend’s love handles while he did, and Harry just groaned above him.

Louis was just getting to licking at one of Harry’s dark, wide nipples when the alpha grabbed the omega by his hair and yanked his head up.

Louis squeaked in surprise, his eyes going a bit wide as he looked up at Harry’s dark eyes. Harry smiled at him, the expression a bit too soft for his eyes, and then he adjusted his hips and grabbed at his own crotch.

“You want some dessert now too, baby?”

Louis snorted.

“You are a horrible, evil alpha,” Louis said, “Of course I do.”

Harry grinned, then pulled his hard cock out of his briefs, giving it a few unneeded tugs. His fingers then went to grab at Louis’s bum, pulling his cheeks apart and slipping his fingers inside. He fingered Louis quickly and messily, making the omega whine loudly as he did so. Then Harry was lifting him up roughly and planting him down on his cock.

Louis yelped, and then started bouncing, burying his face in Harry’s shoulder as he did. He smelled like rich, spiced wood mixed with the scent of sugar that had come from their dessert, and Louis whimpered at the smell, licking Harry’s shoulder. He kept his hips bouncing, and Harry held a hand on his bum, giving him a squeeze as he moved.

“Such a good omega,” Harry said, “Takes such good care of me. Keeps me well fed and everything.”

Louis whined, nipping at Harry’s skin. He wanted his mouth filled somehow.

Harry’s hips bucked, and Louis yelped as he felt the alpha’s cock jab harder into him. He felt Harry’s big, powerful body move under him, his belly shaking and heaving as he moved. Harry was grunting, the sounds deep and labored by the food in his belly. It only made Louis whine higher in his throat, and he brought his hands up, clawing his blunt nails on Harry’s furry chest. He pulled his mouth off Harry’s shoulder, his jaw a bit sore and his mouth dry as he spoke.

“M’so glad you’re my alpha,” he said, “Glad I don’t have an alpha like Liam. Just want an alpha I can feed and spoil all I want.”

Harry chuckled at that, kissing Louis sweetly despite still pounding into him hard. When he pulled away he slapped his own belly, the sound loud and sharp, and Louis almost cried. He felt more slick pour out of him, and he bit his lip.

“You spoil me so good, sweetheart,” Harry said, his voice deep and nearly a growl. He bucked his hips up, and Louis yelped again, “You want my knot?”

“Yes,” Louis hiccupped, “Oh, god, please.”

“Yeah, I know what you need,” Harry said, still fucking into Louis, “You like a big alpha with a big knot, huh?”

“H – Harry,” Louis gasped, and then squeaked weakly as Harry moaned under him, and he felt a knot start to expand himself him. His thin body shook, and he felt himself coming, a mess all over Harry’s bloated stomach.

Harry held and kissed him as Louis sat tied on his knot, and Louis just hung onto him, scenting himself against Harry’s neck and whining. Harry kissed his neck gently, calling him a good boy and a good omega, and Louis clung to Harry tightly, feeling his own release dry between them.

When Harry’s knot was deflated Louis climbed off his alpha with shaky legs, clearing the bed of Harry’s late-night snacks.

“Leave those,” Harry said when Louis started to get off the bed with it.

“The milk needs to go in the fridge, asshole,” Louis mumbled, but still struggled to waddle out of the room with his shaky legs and sore ass. He put the food away as quickly as he could, and then he was right back in his room, his body cuddling up next to Harry. The alpha rubbed them both down with a washcloth, and then wrapped a thick arm around Louis, giving him a kiss on the top of the head.

“Thanks for my snack, baby,” he said, and Louis giggled. He reached his hand up, rubbing over the tight skin of Harry’s belly, and it made the alpha moan in appreciation.

“God, I still wonder where the fuck you came from,” Harry said, “How did I get so lucky with you?”

Louis shrugged, snuggling deeper in Harry’s soft side.

“M’lucky,” he mumbled, and he meant it. Here, next to his big, soft alpha, he felt safe and at home, pretty satiated and content.

And he would be ready to give Harry whatever he wanted in the morning, whether it was breakfast or something more.

[uglypastels]

The Wingman

(A/N) This is a story for @the-claire-bitch-project ‘s writing challenge. (Congratulations on the milestone!!!!! You are absolutely amazing!!) With the setting prompt: Switched Luggage. I had a lot of fun writing it, especially that I had never actually joined a writing challenge before (although now I’m signed up for three more - I think I might have a small problem). I hope it’s good.  Also tagging @andwhatdostarsdobest , because we had been talking when I started writing this and you probably forgot because it was ages ago, but still, here you go  <3 

word count: 9857

warning: swearing, fluff 

 Series masterlist can be found in my bio/regular masterlist. 

moodboard by me

You ran around your house, looking for a hairbrush. How was it that anytime you actually needed it, it seemed to disappear into thin air?

“Yes!” You yelled out as you saw the black brush underneath a pile of towels. Proudly you walked back to your suitcase and put the hairbrush between a few shirts. You checked your list again, crossing off the bloody thing you just spend ten minutes looking for. You scanned through the list to see if anything still needed to be packed. Charger. But you’re going to put that one in your backpack, together with headphones, book, sunglasses… anything that you may need on the way to New York itself.

Knowing that there was nothing else that you needed to pack into your suitcase, you slammed the lime green luggage closed. The zipper just barely managed to go all the way to the other side. Then, you put the two sliders in the lock, mixing up the three number combination so it wouldn’t be deductible anymore.

Proud with your own packing skills, you sat down on your bed. The bright suitcase in front of you. The color was more vibrant than you remembered. At first, it seemed like a good idea, but now that you looked at it... The color couldn’t be more attention seeking. Especially at nine in the morning, when nobody at an airport is fully awake yet. Your suitcase would practically be a visual alarm.

________________________________________

“Fuck! Harrison!” Tom yelled out from his room. It was a mess. A complete disaster. Laundry was lying everywhere. Not a piece of floor visible anymore. And in the middle of it all, lay Tom.

“What’s up, Tommo?” Harrison stuck his head out from behind the door. Tom could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“I broke it. I broke the bloody suitcase!” he groaned and sat up straight on the ground so his best friend could see him from behind the bed. He was pretty sure there was some underwear stuck to his back, but he didn’t care. They had to leave for a flight in less than an hour and his suitcase just exploded on him.

“What do you mean, you broke it?”

“I mean, I broke it! I must have overfilled it because the zipper broke off and when I tried to pick it, everything fell out.” Tom looked around. He saw a white dress shirt hanging off of the cactus in the corner of the room. “What the fuck do I do, Haz?”  

“I think we have another suitcase somewhere in a closet. I’ll go look.” Harrison left the room. Tom let out another frustrated groan and let himself fall back on the floor. His back hit the hard surface, but fortunately, his head fell against some trousers. He tried to keep his mind clear. If Harrison actually did have a proper suitcase, maybe they still had a chance on making the flight. He sat up for the second time.

Right then, Harrison came rolling in, with the biggest and brightest suitcase Tom had ever seen. It was twice the size of the luggage Tom had tried to fill before, so this should be no problem. Harrison pushed the luggage towards Tom who caught the handle as it reached him.

“How have I never seen this before?” He looked at his friend and the suitcase. He couldn’t believe it had been in their flat all this time.

“I had it in the back of my closet.” Harrison shrugged. “Now, go get packing.” He threw a shirt in Tom’s face. Then, still, with a bright smile, the blonde left the room also leaving Tom to pack on his own. Tom didn’t know where to start, the mess slightly overwhelming him. There was also the problem of time. He didn’t know where his phone was (problem numero 3) and he didn’t have a clock in his room, so telling time was not possible. Tom just assumed that he had around thirty minutes. If more, than great! If less, well, he had to hurry anyway.

Picking up stray pieces of clothing around him, he threw them back on the bed. Just to have some space to move around himself and to get all of his things in one place. Once he had given himself a proper range to walk around in, he pulled up the lime green suitcase and opened it next to his feet. Then, he threw everything on his bed, into the suitcase. He had no idea what all of it was, but he saw clothing and underwear, so that must be good enough for a few days.

“Tom! The car’s here!” Harrison yelled out from the hallway. Tom cursed under his breath as he threw in the last few items into his suitcase. He made sure that he had his phone charger in there before closing the two halves together and zipping them up. Then he put the case on its wheels and started pushing it out of the room. Harrison was already waiting for him in the doorway.

“Mate, have you seen my phone?” Tom checked his pockets, even though he knew it wasn’t there.

“Yeah, you put it in your backpack.” He wanted to ask Harrison if he had seen his backpack, but then his friend pointed down at the floor, where a black backpack was leaning against the wall. Tom sighed in relief. Pushing the lime green giant forward, he picked up the backpack on his way. Harrison walked ahead, towards the driver that was waiting outside next to a car with tinted windows. When Tom stepped outside, the driver glanced down at the neon yellow-green baggage Tom was carrying alongside him.

“You sure know how to stay lowkey, don’t you, Tom?” he muffled a laugh.

“Airport security is going to kill me. I know,” he said and greeted the driver with a handshake. “We didn’t have anything else.” the driver took the lime monstrosity from Tom to put it in the back of the car. Tom walked over to Harrison who had just opened the door of the car. He sneaked in between his best friend and the vehicle into the seat.

“You dick.” Harrison slammed the door shut in Tom’s face and walked to the other side of the car to get in himself now.

________________________________________

You were in the parking lot of the airport. The wind that seemed to come from nowhere was blowing your hair in your face.

“Well, I’ll see you in two weeks.” you hugged your best friend and roommate tightly. She hugged you back with a little wiggle. Still holding on to you she said: “Just promise me to get some, while you’re gone, okay?” You laughed at her request.

“You know this is a work trip. I won’t have time to be hitting on guys.”

“You don’t have to do anything. Guys will be throwing themselves at you. Just stay safe.”

“I will.” You hugged her again. Then when you pulled away, you grabbed your suitcase and started walking backward. “New York City, here I come!” You waved your best friend goodbye with a big smile. You probably shouldn’t have been doing this while walking backward in a car park, because a car stepped on its breaks only inches from you. The loud sound of a horn filled the otherwise silent parking.

“I’m sorry.” you apologized and ran off to the exit, waving once more to your friend who was rolling her eyes at you.

________________________________________

The ride to the airport was quick, yet boring. Tom took out his phone from his backpack and started scrolling through Instagram. It was just the usual memes, fan-edits and pictures of food. His attention was only brought back to the outside world when the car suddenly stopped. If it hadn’t been for the seatbelt, Tom would have broken his nose against the chair in front of him.

He looked up from the small screen of his phone. They were inside, in the parking of the airport, he assumed. In front of them, stood a girl. She looked a bit startled as she yelled out: “I’m sorry.” before rushing off to the side. The driver in front sighed and started driving again until they found a parking spot closer to the assigned exit to the rest of airport he and Harrison were supposed to take.

“Well, here we go.” the driver unbuckled his seatbelt, so Tom and Harrison did so as well. They opened their doors and the smell of gasoline and exhaust gases filled Tom’s nostrils. He hated it. The lighting in the garage was limited, a bit yellowish. Even the suitcase didn’t seem to be so bright anymore. But Tom knew that would change the moment he and Harrison would step into a hallway with proper light.

________________________________________

You had just gone through the security check when your phone rang. The face of your best friend lit up on the screen so you picked up.

“Hey, whats-” she didn’t let you finish though.

“Oh my god, you will not believe it!” She screamed out. You had to pull away from the phone from your ear.

“Won’t believe what?”  

“The car that almost ran you over.” She sounded extremely excited for some reason.

“What about it?”

“Tom fucking Holland was in it!” She screamed even louder. You made a sound that was somewhere in between a gasp and a squeak. A woman seated next to you in the waiting area looked over with a raised eyebrow. Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment so you tried to ignore the looks other strangers were giving you. You put the phone back to your ear and continued your conversation.

“How do you know he was in that car?” For some reason, your voice turned to a whisper.

“Because when I was driving to the exit, I, later on, saw him get out of the car...fuck, he looked hot.” She groaned. In the background of the call, you could hear the sound of cars honking.

“Maze, are you driving and calling?” you asked your best friend.

“Don’t worry, there's so much traffic I won’t move for the next five bloody years.”

“Right, well hang up when you start driving. I promised you to stay safe in NYC, so you better be in one piece too when I get back.”

“I promise babe. Call me when you land.”

“You’ll be asleep.”

“Call me, damn it! Oh, got to go. The assholes in front of me finally decided to move. Byeee!” And she hung up. You turned off your phone and just sat there on the chair for a moment, staring blankly at the black screen. Was Tom Holland really here? Right now. Exactly where you were? The idea alone was unbelievable. You shook your nerves off. Even if he was at the airport. Heathrow was big. The chances of you seeing him were minuscule.

When your flight number was called, you got up, hung your backpack over your shoulders and walked to the gate. There was already a long line so there wasn’t much you could do except wait. You should have gone for that coffee.

________________________________________

Harrison walked next to Tom. The airport security was around them, making sure that they had an easy access through all the people to get to their flight. Their flight that was supposed to depart in fifteen minutes. They weren't exactly rushing their walk. It was like an up-tempo jog.

He hadn’t even realized when all those people around him got there or even how, but suddenly he was surrounded by yelling and camera flashes. He had gotten used to it pretty early on in his career, but it was just too early today.

They reached the gate. All the other passengers on the flight were already gone, possibly waiting for the two of them to arrive so the plane could take off. Tom felt a slight touch of guilt in his stomach. All these people just wanted to get on with their flight, but because of him and Harrison, but mostly him, they had to wait even longer than what usually a person has to wait during preparation for a take-off.

________________________________________

You sat down in your seat. Thankfully it was next to the window. The only problem would be now if you had to go to the toilet, you would have to get past the other two passengers that would sit next to you. Whoever it was, they hadn’t arrived yet. You looked out of the window, down at the grey asphalt ground where people were still streaming into the plane, up the stairs to the entrances at both ends.

You could feel movement next to you and it made you look up. A nice looking lady stood next to the row of your seat. Next to her stood a boy that looked to be around the age of six.

“Good Morning,” she said. You repeated the words and looked out the window again. It was around eleven… in the morning? The sun was out and shining bright, at least you hoped so. It was a cloudy day, giving the surroundings that grey and gloomy atmosphere. The one that made everything look a bit sleepy. In the distance, you could make out the residue of the mist.

“Good morning, ladies and gentleman.” the voice of a stewardess sounded over the intercom. “We shall be departing soon.” You looked at your phone to check the time. It was already ten minutes past the original departure time. You wondered what was taking so long. All the passengers seemed to be seated. But then, you saw movement outside. Two guys were walking to the back of the plane. Around them a handful of security guards. You tried to get a better look at the two figures. Could it be them? As they neared the plane you almost screamed. Their faces were mostly screened by their caps, but you were pretty sure that it was them. You watched as the two men were lead to the back entrance. The closer to the plane they got, the worse angle it was for you to see it.

When it was not possible anymore for you to catch a glimpse of them, you unlocked your phone and turned off the airplane mode. You started writing your text to Maze:

OMFG!

They are here!

Tom & Haz are on my flight!

I'm gonna die

Ok g2g

I'll call you when I get there

You send the messages as quickly as you could and then turned airplane mode back on. A thought of your friends' reaction zoomed by in your mind. It was probably cruel of you to send them in a moment she couldn’t reply and then make her wait eight hours for more information.

You could hear footsteps behind you. Only a few rows away. They were there. You had to fight the urge of just turning around in your seat and screaming. You took a few deep breaths. The mother next to you noticed it.

“Nervous, dear?” You looked at her. She was holding her son’s hand. The kid’s eyes also were directed at you. He looked excited, but also a bit scared.

“Not exactly, no.” You told the woman. She nodded, unconvinced. Yes, you were nervous, but not because of the flight. And what were you supposed to say to the stranger? Oh, see those hot guys a few rows from us, yeah those two. I’m kind of in love with one of them, even though he doesn’t even know I exist. No, not the best way to start off an eight-hour flight.

The voice of the flight attendant boomed over the plane again: “Ready for departure. Please turn off all devices. May I have your attention for a moment as my colleagues demonstrate the safety features of this aircraft.” You listened but none of the words actually came through. Your mind was in complete overdrive. The idea of Tom and Harrison just sitting a few feet away from you made your hands shake. You could feel your eyes begin to sting because for a moment there, you forgot how to blink. You were frozen. Only snapping back on when a flight attendant walked up to you: “Are you alright, miss?”

“Huh? Yes, yed. Everything’s fine.” you laughed nervously. Everything was so far from okay. You tried to keep calm. You didn’t want them to think you were a lunatic. The man’s eyes lowered to your backpack.

“I’m sorry, miss, but I must take your backpack into the overhead compartment.”

“What? But it’s small. It fits under my seat.”  You had stuff in there that you needed through the flight and you had no exact pleasure in walking back and forth any time you wanted something.

“I’m sorry,” he replied, “But only handbags and laptop cases. It’s a regulation.” You sighed as you took out your book and headphones from your backpack and then handed it over to the man. He smiled apologetically and walked away to put it in an overhead compartment. Most of them were already filled to the brim, so you watched him walk to the back of the plane. That’s where they were. The flight attendant put your backpack in an overhead compartment that was a row or four behind you. You turned back around to face the chair in front of you and sank deep in your seat as the plane started to move.

________________________________________

Tom sat down in his seat next to Harrison. It was the last row of the plane. A few people looked at them, slightly annoyed as they had walked in. he didn’t blame them. They had caused an, at least, twenty-minute delay. The whole plane probably hated them.

Even though he had been on a thousand of planes and knew the safety features by heart now, he still watched the three flight attendants show how to fasten the seatbelts and the locations of the emergency exits. He heard Harrison laugh.

“What?” He turned to look at his best friend, who was apparently laughing at him.

“You’re doing it again, mate.” Harrison laughed even louder, causing a few people to turn around and give them killer looks. Tom had not even realized what he was doing. Unconsciously, his hands went along with the movements he saw in front of him. He had heard those instructions so many times. He had seen air hostesses and hosts perform the little routine over and over again in the last few years. Sometimes there was some variety in it, but it was always the same basics. After some time he had quickly learned most of the things that were told and just for fun he would go along. Harrison had caught him a few times before doing it unconsciously, just like now.

“Oh, shut up,” Tom said. Harrison started laughing even more at his weak response. This was gonna be a great flight. A flight attendant was walking in their direction. Tom thought that maybe he would tell Harrison to shut up, but nothing of that came true. He was just putting a backpack in the head compartment above.

Then the plane started to move, indicating that in a few minutes they would be hundreds of miles in the air. Tom put on his headphones and picked a playlist he could fall asleep easily too.

________________________________________

This sucked. You had taken out your headphones and book, but now you just wanted to sleep. But with everything going on around you, it was almost impossible. Yes, you had sleeping pills but those were still in your backpack. The backpack that you would have to get up for, walk through that small aisle and then stand in front of some random person’s seat while you tried to get your carry-on that most likely was jammed in the compartment by the steward, that you could barely get it out.

With a sigh, you excused yourself to the woman and child next to you as you tried to get out of the row of seats. The shimmying down to the passage in the middle wasn’t so bad, with neither you or the other to passengers taking a lot of space. Finally free, you walked to the end of the plane. You thought you had seen the man put your backpack in the last compartment so that is where you were headed.

Before you reached it though, you stopped in your tracks. Your eyes widened and you were pretty sure you were about to faint. You forgot how to breathe.

There he was. Tom Holland. His head rested on his head, his eyes closed. He was probably asleep. He was asleep! You couldn’t go now. What if you woke him up? You just wanted to disappear… a sudden chill went through your body as you thought about the scene from Infinity War. It had been months, but that movie was a traumatic experience.

Still a bit shaky, you walked on, as quietly as possible. When you reached the row he and Harrison were sitting in, you tried not to look at them. Just keep your eyes on the luggage compartment. You opened it with a soft click. You looked inside. Yes, your backpack was in there. Unfortunately, the flight attendant thought it was a good idea to shove it all the way back there. You cursed your short limbs as you stretched out your arms and tried to reach it. No luck.

Harrison had been on his phone and only noticed you standing there when you jumped up to get it. You could feel the strap of your carry on with your fingertips. You looked down, defeated, and were met with his gorgeous blue eyes. He was smiling. Your whole face heated up and immediately looked away. This was too embarrassing.

Suddenly, you could see Tom stirring in his sleep.

________________________________________

Tom woke up when he felt some sudden movement around him. It felt like his seat was shaking. He stirred in his seat and slowly opened his eyes. For a single moment, he had forgotten where he was. It especially confused him when he was met with the view next to him.

Only inches away from him, stood a girl. Her chest was parallel to his face. A dark zip-up hoodie unzipped, showing a light blue shirt. When it hit him what he was actually looking at, he turned away a bit flustered.  Harrison smirked. Tom moved as far as he could to the side of his seat and looked at the girl again. Her arms were stretched out, reaching for something in the compartment above them.

“You need help with that, love?” He asked. She looked down from what she was doing. When their eyes met, he smiled, not knowing what else to do. Seeing him do that, the girl froze. Her arms still holding on to the bottom of the receptacle.

“Uhm, yes, if you don’t mind.” She finally huffed out. Tom undid his seatbelt and got up. The girl moved aside so he could stand next to her and take out the bag for her. “It’s the uhm, the black one. In the back.” She said. Tom looked inside the compartment and indeed saw a black backpack shoved all the way back. It was the backpack he saw the flight attendant put in there before he dozed off.

“There you go, darling.” he pulled it out and handed it to her. She smiled sheepishly.

“Thank you.” It looked like she wanted to say something more. Instead, her cheeks turned even more pink and she turned around. Tom watched her get back to her own seat. When she looked back at him, he quickly sat down, embarrassed he was caught.

“She was kind of cute, wasn’t she, mate?.” Harrison commented.

“Yeah, she was.”

________________________________________

You sat back down. Your arms were still clinging onto your backpack. Your mind was blanking and at the same time you couldn’t concentrate on a single thought. So much was going on.

That actually happened. Tom Holland helped you with your luggage and then you actually caught him staring at you. You played the moment over and over in your mind. You were walking back to your seat. Asked the woman in seat A is you could pass her and her son. While they were moving their things around so you could pass through, you could feel someone looking at you. You turned in the direction from where the feeling was coming from. Tom was still standing there, where you had thanked him. When he saw you looking at him, he immediately turned away and sat down. His body language screamed embarrassment. You could see that from the distance between you.

Now you were back in your seat. Your whole body warm and a bit shaky. With trembling hands, you opened your backpack and pulled out the strip of sleeping pills. You weren’t sure if it was actually a good idea to take them now, but you needed some sleep. Right when you were about to pop out a pill from the packaging, you remembered an article that said that it could be dangerous to take pills on a flight. Something to do with disorientation during crises. With a small groan, you left the pill packaging undamaged and dropped it back into the dark void of your backpack. This was going to be a long flight.

Still wanting to sleep, you leaned yourself against the wall of the plane. Using your backpack as a last minute pillow you put on your headphones, pulled up the hood of your sweater and tried to fall asleep.

________________________________________

Tom tried to go to sleep again, but it didn’t work. The girl had left a bigger impression on him than he had expected. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He wished he had said something more to her. Or maybe just wished he hadn’t looked away so soon when she caught his glance. He wanted to see her again.

He got up, Harrison didn’t even notice him moving. There went all the minutes in which Tom tried to come up with an excuse for his friend. He sighed and walked to the row he thought he had seen her walk back to. He walked up to the row. A woman, probably around her 30’s was sitting in the aisle seat. Next to her a young boy. The girl Tom was so desperate to see sat in the seat next to the window. He couldn’t see her face. It was concealed by the hood of her sweatshirt. She was leaning against the backpack he had handed her. From the way she was sitting faced away from the rest of the plane, Tom assumed she had managed to do what he wanted to: sleep.

The passengers next to her hadn’t noticed him yet. The woman was reading a book while the boy was watching a movie on his iPad. Maybe they were traveling with her. He decided to take a shot.

“Hi, excuse me,” he caught the woman’s attention. She looked up from her book and so did her son. He looked Tom up and down and then his eyes widened when he turned back to his small screen. Then back at Tom. Tom looked at what the boy had been watching before. He had to hold in the laugh as he realized it was Spider-Man: Homecoming.

“You’re Spider-Man!” He yelled out excitedly. A few people looked around confused, but Tom decided to ignore them. He smiled at the boy. In his American accent, he whispered: “Yeah, but would you keep it down. People aren’t really supposed to know.”

“Right, sorry.” the boy giggled. His mother smiled and turned her attention from her son to Tom: “You were saying.” she smiled sweetly. For a moment Tom had forgotten what had brought him there, being too excited to meet a fan. Then he saw the girl near the window stirr in her sleep and it brought him back.

“Oh, yes,” he cleared his throat, “Do you know her?”

“Sorry, no.” She looked over at the girl, “We just happen the share the seats. Do you want to talk to her?” The woman was ready to get up. Tom stopped her immediately. Talking not too loudly so he wouldn’t wake her up. “No, no, that’s okay. Let her sleep. I’ll, uh, I’ll catch up with her when we land.” he smiled and walked away, in the direction of his own seat. He didn’t dare to turn around. Too embarrassed about what had just happened. It was strange. He normally never got nervous or awkward like that around people. But this girl, she was something else. She made him a mess… And he didn’t even know her name!

________________________________________

You woke up at the touch of a small tap on your shoulder. You wanted to shake it off, pretend it wasn’t happening. But it continued. Then you heard a hiss: “Luke, stop that!” It was the woman sitting next to you, telling her son off for waking you up.

Still a bit drowsy you turned around to face the two. The boy stopped moving, probably a bit scared of how you would react. The mother seemed to think the same.

“I’m so sorry sweety. He just didn’t want to listen.”

“It’s okay.” You rubbed your eyes. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know, but we’re already descending..” And as if on cue, your ears popped and the horrible pain shot through your head. No matter how many times you flew, it always hurt and you hated it. But it was also a good sign. You were already landing. You managed to sleep through the biggest part of the flight.

“Mommy, do you think I can get a picture with him?” The sound of the boy’s voice sounded through the pain. You knew it wasn’t any of your business, but you were curious what your neighbors were talking about. The mother sighed.

“I told you, Lukey, you will have to ask him. I’m sure if you do, he will be glad to take a picture.” The boy clearly didn’t seem to be happy with his mother’s answer. Suddenly he turned to you. You were a bit startled by the action.

“Do you think he will go on a picture with me?”

“Uhm, I don’t know who you’re talking about,” you said apologetically. To the boy as well as the mother.

“Spider-Man of course.” He whisper-yelled enthusiastically. You were confused. “You know him right?”

“I do?”

“Yeah, he was here, before. He was looking for you.”

“He was?” You looked at the kid's mother who just raised her shoulders. Could it be true? Was Tom Holland actually looking for you? No, don’t get too excited. You tried not to raise your expectations too high. Maybe something had fallen out of your backpack and he just wanted to give it back. But nothing fell out, though.

The boy, Luke, was still looking at you, awaiting an answer to his question. You didn’t know what to say. The kid truly believed Tom was Spider-Man. Well, he was, but…

“I don’t know him that well. But I’m sure that he would love to take a picture.”

“I knew it. See, mom!” he turned around to his mother, who was reading a book now. She just nodded. You had the feeling that this conversation had happened before during the flight.

The voice of a flight attendant boomed over you: “Ladies and gentlemen, we shall be arriving at JFK airport shortly. Local time is 3:12 pm and the temperature is 69 degrees Fahrenheit or 21 degrees Celsius. For your safety and comfort, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened until the Captain turns off the Fasten Seat Belt sign.” Then the voice-over went quiet again.

________________________________________

Tom was excited to be back in America. It felt like ages since he had been to the country of Freedom. Especially in New York. Maybe this time he could finally go to the Empire State Building…

“Please check around your seat for any personal belonging you may have brought on board with you and please use caution when opening the overhead bins, as heavy articles may have shifted around during the flight.”  They had almost landed and Tom barely even noticed the descending of the plane. Had he really been so occupied by that girl?  This was crazy, he knew it. He barely knew her, no he didn’t know her. Literally, the only thing he knew about her was that she had a backpack. He had to get over this. She could be lesbian as far as he knew. Then he would never have a chance. Oh, so now I want a chance with her? He was so confused by his own thoughts.

Or what if, actually, she was just a horrible human being? That’s the thing about strangers, you can both smile at each other, but in the end, you don’t know who they are. And he couldn’t go up to her and ask: “Hi, I was just wondering, have you ever kicked a dog?”

“Hey, you alright, mate?” Harrison bumped him in the shoulder. It was like a small awake call. “You’ve been staring at the chair for a while.”

“I have?” Tom blinked a few times to help his dried out eyes. How long had he been staring in front of himself?

“Yeah. You look a bit tense.” Harrison glanced at him with worry.

“Nah, I’m fine.” The plane suddenly hit the ground, making everything shake a little. “Got lost in a thought, I guess.”

“That’s a first,” Harrison scoffed. Tom punched him in the arm, adding a “You prick.” behind it. The two of them laughed a little before the seat belt sign vanished from the small panels above them, giving them and everyone else the sign they were good to go. Tom quickly got up and pulled his and Harrisons bags. He wanted to be ready to leave before everyone else started to walk around. Being in the last row, meant that they had easy access to the exit in the back.

Tom sat back down, backpack in hand. He looked like all the people around him did what he had just done, just a bit slower. He had almost forgotten about the girl, almost. A minute later, when the doors were opened from the outside, people started to hustle their way over to the nearest exit. The girl was walking to their side. Tom wanted to move but the sight of her made his whole body freeze. She was walking slowly, through the crowd of tired people. Her hoody was looked so big on her it was, Tom thought she looked adorable. But a small punch of anxiety hit him. That sweater wasn’t her size. What if it was her boyfriends? Of course, I girl like that would never be single. He was so stupid to think otherwise. He wanted to slam his head in the chair in front of him.

“Tom, get up!” Harrison pushed him. Tom got up, still a bit paralyzed by the girl that had just passed him. He had just noticed the small smile she gave him before disappearing into the back of the plane and walking out.

The man standing in the aisle in front of them, let him pass. Tom thanked him and he followed the people in front. Not like he had much choice. The stewardess standing next to the door smiled brightly at Tom. He noticed that her smile was much wider towards him than the rest of the passengers. He just responded with an awkward smile and kept on walking. The moment he stepped outside, the hard cold wind blew in his face. From the top of the stairs, he could see the girl walking by the wing of the plane, like the rest of the passengers. Tom’s legs again failed to move. Only when Harrison almost pushed him down did he start to walk again.

“Honestly, what is the matter with you today?” he asked once their feet touched the solid ground.

“Nothing,” Tom glanced to the front of the people, where he could see her. She had taken her hood off, so her hair blew in every possible direction. Harrison apparently had followed his gaze.

“Is it that girl from earlier?” he chuckled lightly.

“What? No!” Tom rolled his eyes.

“So, I can assume it is.” he looked at her again. “You should go and talk to her later.”

“Are you crazy? I’m not doing that!” His hands were shaking in his pockets.

“Yes, you are. As your assistant and wingman, I am making you.” Harrison grabbed Tom by the shoulder and started to push him in the direction of the girl. Tom groaned and tried to get himself out of his friend’s grip.

________________________________________

You had been pretty quick with getting out of the plane, so you also managed to get by the control without a long of a wait. That, however, compensated when you got the luggage belt. It had already been ten minutes since you got to the conveyor belt and it still had not started to move. You were one of the first people of your flight to get there, so you chose yourself a nice spot at the beginning of the line. Slowly it started to fill up with people you recognized from the flight. As nonchalantly as possible, you tried to look around, for that one specific head or brown curls. You hadn’t seen him though.

It would have been weird if he was here, you thought too. You had already been surprised that he was taking a normal flight, and not some fancy jet like any other big celebrity.

The conveyor started to move, thankfully. Bags poured out onto the belt. All different shapes and sizes, but most of them still in the range of black and grey. Sometimes there would be a red one or an even a suitcase with some nice print on it, but yeah, mostly just black.

Then you saw the big, lime green suitcase of yours. You walked up to the conveyor and grabbed the handle on top. For a moment you were scared that you wouldn’t be able to pick it up and it would drag you along. But you managed. With a groan, you pulled it off and put it on its side, wheels on the ground. You started to push it forward when you heard fast footsteps behind you and a: “hey, wait!”

________________________________________

After their passport check, Tom said to Harrison that he had to go to the toilet. He didn’t really, but he hoped that if he stayed there long enough, maybe the girl would have already left and he wouldn’t have to be forced by his best friend to talk to her.

If only people could see him now, standing in front of a sink in a public bathroom, hiding from - basically - a beautiful girl. The last time he was this nervous to talk to someone was probably when he was twelve. This was pathetic.

Before Harrison would walk in and check up on him, Tom splashed some water in his face and then walked out. His friend had been on his phone. Next to him was a luggage cart that he had probably picked up while waiting.

“You took your time, mate. Okay, let’s go.” He pushed the cart towards Tom. he grabbed it by the handle and continued pushing it in the way where the conveyor belts were located. When they got there, the belt was already running. Tom looked at it for his own bag, but after half a minute he remembered that he had a different suitcase than normally. He had taken Haz’ horrible green one. He couldn’t see it on the belt. Maybe it hadn’t come out yet. Then he saw a blur of green neon on the other side. He ticked Harrison on the arm. He wasn’t really thinking, his mind completely blank. He was just looking at who it was that was currently rolling away with his things. It was the girl!

Harrison finally looked up from his phone. But Tom, was still mindlessly slapping him on the arm. His eyes wide and his mouth almost agape.

“You absolute idiot. Go!” But Tom still didn’t move. “Before she runs off with your stuff.” that should have done it, but it didn’t. Tom could hear Harrison groan as he threw his backpack on the cart that Tom was still holding on to with one hand. Before he knew it, his best friend was already almost behind the girl. He heard him say: “Hey, wait!” The girl turned around. This was the sign for Tom to move before Harrison could say something to her that would make Tom want to get snapped into dust by Thanos.

As he neared the two, the girl watched him with a horrified face. He didn’t know what to think of it.

________________________________________

You turned around. The person behind you was much taller so you had to look up. You were immediately met with a pair of beautifully piercing blue eyes. More steps could be heard behind the gorgeous blonde and you looked in that direction. You almost fainted right there. There he was. Tom Holland walking to you. A luggage cart in front of him. Even in a simple white shirt, he still looked hot as hell.

You felt your eyes widen and your cheeks heat up as the two boys looked at you. Tom reached the place where Harrison was standing, only one step further away from you.

“Hi, sorry love, but I think you got my friends suitcase,” Harrison said, pointing at the luggage next to you. You looked down. A bit confused. Did you have Tom Holland’s suitcase in your hands? The urge to just run away was really big. But no, you had to control yourself. You didn’t want to get kicked down by a bunch security guards.

“What? No. I don’t think so. This is mine.” You laughed nervously. Your hand gripped the handlebar tighter.

“You sure about that, love?” Harrison raised an eyebrow. You looked at him, at Tom (who was still standing behind his friend), at your suitcase, then back between the two men in front of you.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure. Unless your friend also has a neon green suitcase with a neon blue name tag with my name on it”

________________________________________

The girl showed them the name tag attached to the suitcase. On the small piece of paper inside of it, Tom could read her name: (Y/F/N). Next to it was her number and email address. He had an inner battle with himself. Should he ignore it or remember it? His second thought was to kill Harrison after the girl would walk away. He knew he shouldn’t have walked up to her.

“I’m so sorry. We’re gonna leave now.” Tom pulled Harrison by the sleeve of his t-shirt. Away from the poor girl who still looked startled at the exchange she just had with them. His friend wanted to object, but she was quicker.

“Wait!” Tom turned around at the sound of her voice. He saw her glance to the side for a second and smile, then she asked: “Do you mind taking a picture?” So she knew who he was. Just great.

“Uhm, no of course not.”

“Great.” She smiled. Then she looked back in the direction Tom saw her look at before. “Hey, Luke.” A lot of emotions had gone through Tom in those five short seconds. At first, he was excited. He wanted to hug her. Try to do without making it look so creepy as it sounded. Then, when she said that name his heart sunk. Was Luke her boyfriend?  Would he have to stand next to them? It hurt to think about it. Then all that sadness disappeared when he saw who Luke actually was. It was that boy sitting next to (Y/N) on the plane.

The boy was running towards them as fast as his short legs could manage while he was still holding on to his mother’s hand. He looked so excited.

“Hi, Luke,” Tom said in his American accent. “Nice to meet you.” He was still holding his mom’s hand. The woman smiled nicely at Tom and then lowered herself to look at her son.

“Go on, ask him.” She whispered. Luke turned back to Tom and very softly asked: “Could I take a picture with you?”

“Of course.” Tom got to his knees too as his mom took out her phone to take the picture. Right before she did, Harrison interrupted. “Sorry, I see our things. I’ll go get them.” Tom’s legs were shaking from the position he was in. He gave Harrison a look that this wasn’t really the time.

“Okay. Go.”

“Right,” he wanted to take a step, but took one backward instead, “Do you have a pen, maybe?”

“I don't know. Maybe in my backpack.” Harrison nodded and walked away to get the suitcases. Tom apologized to the boy and his mother. Then with a big smile, they took the picture. The mom wanted to walk away again.

“Do you know my Spider-Man move?” He asked Luke. the boy nodded and moved around quickly, holding his arm forward and pretending to press the web-shooter. Tom did the same and the boy’s mom took another picture.

“Thank you so much.” She said.

“No problem.” Tom smiled and got up. “Always a pleasure to meet fan.” He wanted to do a high-five with the boy, but to his surprise, Luke went on doing the whole Peter and Ned’s handshake. Like an instinct, Tom managed to follow along. He had practiced it so much with Jacob it was easy, but the boy went much faster and he had never expected him to do it. “A big fan, I see.”

“Thank you, Spider-Man.” the boy said went back to his. But he didn’t grab her hand like she had expected him to do, instead, he almost immediately walked away again, towards (Y/N). She looked as confused as the mother.

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything.” she smiled.

“But you’re friends with Spider-Man. That’s still cool.” Tom furrowed his eyebrows and smirked when he shared a look with her. She wanted to say something to Luke but he already walked away with his mom.

“So, we’re friends?” Tom commented, back in his normal voice, once the two were far enough.

“Uhm, last time I heard, Luke said I was friends with Spider-Man.”

“But, love, I am Spider-Man.” Now that he was finally talking to her properly, all the nerves seemed to have gone away. He had not suspected it to be so easy to talk to her.

________________________________________

On the inside, you were freaking out. You didn’t know how you managed to talk to Tom so casually. Or how you managed to stay on two feet when he called you “love”.

“Yeah, but it’s not the same, is it?” you crossed your arms, trying to look a bit unimpressed. You had no idea if it actually worked. But if you had your arms crossed at least, he wouldn’t be able to see how much your hands were shaking.

“How come?” He had taken a few steps towards you and put his hands in his pockets. The fact that he was just standing there, talking to you made you weak at the knees and now you were expected to answer him. You were done for. Fortunately, Harrison walked back with their suitcases on the cart. One of which, was indeed, just like yours.

________________________________________

“We should probably go, mate. People are waiting for us.” He patted him on the shoulder. Tom knew this was a sign for just ask her, dammit! but he couldn’t do it.

“It was really nice to meet you, both of you.” she looked at him and Harrison.

“Yeah, you too.” he took one hand out of his pockets, but not really sure why. Now he had no idea what to do with his hand. “Uhm, really nice.” Tom could practically feel the eye roll Harrison was giving him in his guts. He just hoped (Y/N) didn’t see it.

“Would you like a picture?” Harrison asked. Tom turned around to his friend and looked at him to make sure he was serious. What was he thinking?

“No, no. I’m fine. Meeting you guys is already more than I can ask for.” she said blushingly.

“C’mon I know you what a got shot of Tommo here. It’s the least he can do after we basically harassed you back there.” Harrison threw his arm over Tom, who just wanted to become one with the ground and melt from embarrassment. He appreciated what Harrison tried to do here, but this wasn’t really the best scenario.

“Harrison, piss off,” he said through gritted teeth. “I want to remind you, that you were the one that went up to her. I didn’t do anything.”

“And that’s why I will be the one taking the picture.” He let go of Tom’s shoulder and walked to (Y/N). She was holding her phone in her hand. A bit unsure, she handed him the phone. Harrison looked at it and smiled: “Nice cover.” She just smiled. Then Harrison walked back to where he was previously. In that short moment, he gave Tom another look. GO! Do not screw this up!

Tom answered with a look of You know I will! as he walked over to her. He felt like he shouldn’t be looking at her. So, looking at the ground he said: “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t the only sound he heard, though. Because at the exact same moment, she had said the exact same thing. He didn’t understand what she was sorry for, but it did feel a bit reassuring.

With a big smile on his face, he draped his arm around her. He could feel her eyes on him, so he returned the look. (Y/N) looked away, putting a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You know what, that green thing is ruining the whole composition.” Harrison jogged over and wheeled her suitcase over to his side. She had put her backpack on top of it, so when he pushed a bit too far it was on the verge of falling to the ground. At the last minute, Harrison caught it and put it on top of the cart with their own luggage.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Harry, mate.” Tom laughed.

“I’m just trying to take a nice picture,” Harrison replied seriously.

________________________________________

Tom’s arm was around your shoulders this whole time. He could have just let go of you, but he didn’t. It was nice, you had to admit. He was much taller than you, so the height difference made it easy to lean on you a bit. But it wasn’t a lean that put pressure on you. It was comfortable.

“Smile.” Harrison pulled up your phone into the air, making your Iron Man phone case very visible to the boy next to you. You had no idea how many pictures Harrison took, but when he thought it was enough, he turned around and put his arm in the air. He already had the phone on selfie mode. In the screen, you could see he had his tongue stuck out, so you did the same. You went with your standard selfie pose, without thinking, which was a peace sign.

“There you go,” Harrison handed you your phone.

“Thank you. I don’t really know what to say.” Tom took his arm off you and, even though it was a literal weight off your shoulders, you missed it from the moment he let go.

“No problem. The pleasure was all mine, love.” Tom smiled at you and you could feel your heart flutter. Your phone buzzed and you looked down. The notification didn’t really matter to you anymore when you saw the time.

“I think I should get going. I cab is waiting for me and I’m pretty sure a hundred people are waiting for you to walk through that door.” you pointed backward, where the exit of the baggage hall was located.

“Yeah, we should. Well,” Harrison walked up to you with your luggage. You were pretty sure it was yours because the blue tag on the suitcase gave it away. You hadn’t even noticed him walking away and getting your things. “there you go.” Putting your backpack on the same shoulder Tom’s arm had just been, you thanked them once again and slowly, wishing this moment would never end, walked away.

________________________________________

“I can’t believe you didn’t ask her out.” Harrison hit Tom on the back of his head, proving his annoyed tone even more.

“C’mon, I couldn’t ask her out.” Tom tried to defend himself.

“I know, that’s why I did it for you.” Harrison started to push the cart to the exit. Tom stood in his spot, dumb-founded. Had he missed something? Did he have another blackout of overthinking and completely missed how Harrison had asked (Y/N) out in his sake? But no, if he did, she would have said something.

“What are you talking about?” Harrison ignored the question. He kept on walking. Tom looked at the backpack on his back. “Haz, whose backpack is that?” It wasn’t his, it was way too clean. “Harrison!” Tom ran over to his friend. Only stopping when he was in front of him and pushed the cart back into him. “Did you seriously steal her backpack?”

“No. I just gave her mine.”

“So, you stole it. What is wrong with you?” Tom couldn’t believe it. He was friends with an absolute idiot.

“There is nothing wrong with me-”

“Yes, there is. There is something missing in your head and it’s called moral sense. You can’t just switch your backpack with hers.”

“Well, she has your number.” Harrison pushed the cart forward with a little more force, giving Tom no other choice but to jump to the side to not get driven over.

“No, she doesn’t.” They were now walking to the exit. Around the corner, they could hear the loud voices of the paparazzi and fans. He didn’t want to have this conversation around all these people. “This is not over Harrison!”

________________________________________

You walked out to the greeting hall where literally hundreds of people were waiting. You knew they were all here for Tom. It was already very loud and you could only imagine how much louder it would get once he was there.

You made your way through the crowd. Soon after you saw a man in his forties hold a sign up with your name on it.

“I am so sorry.”  You said when you got near him.

“Problems with the conveyor?” He asked with a low voice. You smiled at the thought of what had actually happened: “Yeah, you could say so.” The man looked a bit confused at you, but you ignored it. He then told you to follow him to the car. He had offered to pull the suitcase for you.

“No, thank you.” you declined, not even sure why.

At the car, you finally had to let go of your trusty green luggage. The driver put it in the trunk and then opened the backseat door for you. He got into the car after you. You told him what address to go to and sunk back into your seat. Now finally having a little moment to comprehend everything that had happened. You met Tom Holland. You met Harrison Osterfield. They talked to you. Took pictures with you. Tom called you “love”... it was all getting a bit too much.

The silence in the car was getting a bit unbearable. Being too awkward to ask the driver if he could turn on the radio, you reached out for your backpack on the seat next to you and that is when you noticed it. There was something wrong about it. The backpack was dirtier than you remembered, more worn down.  You picked it up and put it on your lap to take a closer look. It was also lighter.

Yeah, this wasn’t your backpack. Just like yours, it was a black Eastpak, but there were small changes in the design, so probably an older model or something. You were freaking out a bit. Now you had no wallet, no ID, no phone charger! This was not good. You were thankful that at least you kept your credit card in your phone case so you could pay the driver.

But if this wasn’t yours, who did this backpack belong to? You tried to think when there was a possibility that they could have been switched. You only let go of it twice today. The first time when on the plane, when Tom gave it to you. But then it was still your backpack. All your things were still in there.

The second time was when Harrison took it away to take the picture. You gasped. The driver looked in the mirror at you. This was their backpack! Tom or Harrison. You were freaking out now. Why would Harrison give you his or Tom’s backpack? The whole situation was getting too weird for you.

Then you noticed the front pocket of the pack was open. What if you lost something on the way to the car. You checked if anything was in there, so you could put it in the other part of the backpack. Fortunately, there wasn’t anything in it except for a piece of paper. You pulled it out. For some reason, your name was written on it. Did this give you the right to read it? You hoped so because that’s what you did. With slightly shaking hands, you unfolded the paper. In small scribbles there was written:

If you’re reading this, it means that poor Tom failed at asking you out himself. You forgot how to breathe for a solid minute after that. Continue reading the message, you had to keep reminding yourself: in, out, in, out.

You have to excuse his incapable ass. The point is, he really likes you. Sorry for hijacking your backpack. You’ll get it back if you call him:

You looked in disbelief the small row of numbers. You were staring at Tom Holland's number. How on earth did you come to this point in your life? There was one more thing written on the paper. Even smaller than the other words. You had to be honest, it was impressive how he had managed to cram everything up on this small piece of paper.

I hope you can manage to forgive me after your date.

H.

Go to my bio for part 2 

Request/Feedback/comment or if you just wanna talk, DM me 

[reddieforlove-archive-blog]

New

Eddie stared at the building, unable to shake the intimidated feeling that rose in his chest. His backpack was hugged to his chest and he resisted the urge to chew on his lower lip that already bore the marks of his teeth’s abuse from the past several days. As much as he knew he couldn’t sit there forever, it was hard to make his body move.

“You okay?”

A hand settled on his arm and he inhaled deeply, turning his eyes away from the school and towards his dad. Frank Kaspbrak was a kind-eyed man with a gentle touch and an understanding nature. In every possible way, he was as far from Eddie’s mother as possible. They were still adjusting. It wasn’t easy, especially with all of his mother’s many, horrible words and actions still rattling around in his head.

But they were trying.

So Eddie shrugged one shoulder and held onto his backpack just a little tighter. His eyes darted back to the place that would be his new high school. Several large, brown-bricked buildings full of people he didn’t know. Desks covered in germs and air filled with possible diseases. Eddie fought the need to reach for the hand sanitizer he had zipped into the front pocket of his bag.

“I will be,” Eddie said, doing his best to sound confident.

His dad gave him a small smile, looking even less certain than Eddie felt.

“I don’t… want to hover,” Frank said hesitantly, making it clear that he knew exactly the kind of person his ex-wife turned out to be. “But I’m a phone call away.”

Eddie nodded slowly, still trying to figure out whether he found that reassurance comforting yet.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

Then he was reaching out with an uncertain hand, knowing that he couldn’t delay the inevitable. He slipped out of the car and inhaled sharply when his feet hit the pavement. They were just on the cusp of spring, with the morning air crisp and sun shining brightly over the green grass and blooming flowers. Eddie blinked against the brightness as he stepped on the sidewalk and slipped his backpack up onto his shoulders.

As he walked, Eddie’s eyes were lowered to the ground for the most part, only darting up to measure how much further he had to go to the doors that seemed so far away. There was activity all around him, students talking and laughing and constantly moving around. Eddie tried his best to block them all out, closing his hands around the straps of his back and focusing on breathing in and out.

Then he heard a loud laugh, delighted and carefree and rising above everything else. Eddie’s head lifted just slightly and turned, his eyes falling on a group not far away. Five boys and a girl, gathered under the shade of a tree with differing expressions on their faces all varying from annoyance to amusement. His steps slowed as he watched them, his eyes mostly falling on the one who laughed.

His hair was dark brown, verging on black and his shirt was an atrocious lime green Hawaiian print. He was lying on an incredibly uncomfortable looking bench, a worn jean jacket thrown across his lap and rips in the knees of his black jeans. He was gesturing wildly about whatever he was saying, making the redhead girl laugh as she leaned into the side of a strong-looking blonde boy.

Eddie didn’t realize that he’d all but stopped, unable to explain the inexplicable draw to watch them, until the loud boy’s eyes darted away from his friends and somehow fixed straight on Eddie. With a small gasp, Eddie turned his head away and picked up his pace again, heading for the door. He didn’t mean to get in anyone’s crosshairs, not when he hadn’t even stepped foot in the high school yet.

“Richie where the hell are you going?” he heard someone call out.

“Don’t worry about it Staniel!”

Eddie’s breathing picked up in his chest and he braced himself as he saw the much taller boy approaching out of the corner of his eye. He was prepared for the worst. Name calling and cruel jokes and even being tripped or shoved because it was all he ever learned to expect at his old school where Henry Bowers ruled all and made Eddie public enemy number one.

Instead, what he got was a breathless “Hey!” as the boy fell into step with him. It was hard for Eddie to even hear it at first. He frowned a little, not slowing for even a second as he gave him a side glance. It was easier now to see his features. Freckles that dotted across his cheeks and nose and bright blue eyes surrounded by sweeping dark lashes. Chapped lips and a scar on his chin along with a black stud earring in his ear.

“What?” Eddie finally said, unable to quite wrap his mind around what was happening.

“I just thought I’d roll out the red carpet for you, buddy, metaphorically speaking,” the boy said in an odd accent, getting a little ahead of Eddie so that he could turn around and face him while walking backwards. “See, I’m the welcoming committee at this here institution and it has been a while since we’ve had any fresh meat as cute as you. Handsome Hanscom over there was our last newbie and that feels like it was about twenty-seven fuckin’ years ago if you know what I mean.”

Eddie blinked, stopping place again as he tried to sort out and make sense of the out pour of words.

“Welcoming committee?” he finally said.

“Oh yeah,” the boy, Richie apparently, said with a nod that made his dark curls bounce around his head. “We take the induction of new kids very seriously around here. It’s my job to make sure that you are feeling as warm and welcome as possible. Anything I can do to facilitate your… needs. Just call on me, baby.”

He punctuated his words by giving Eddie a very slow once-over with his eyes as a grin tugged at his lips. Eddie’s own eyes narrowed, anger rising in his chest that may have not had everything to do with this Richie guy, but that was certainly called forth by him.

“Do you think this is funny?” Eddie demanded, stepping towards him.

The humor on Richie’s face faded just slightly, his eyes widening a little bit.

“Uh…” he trailed off, looking as if he was trying to figure out the right answer.

“I’m not interested in letting you turn me into the school joke on my first day, thank you very much,” Eddie said brusquely, already moving forward to sweep past him. “Fuck off back to your friends and stay away from me.”

It probably wasn’t the best reaction he could have had. Eddie could have handled the entire situation with far more grace and politeness than he did. But the anger that bubbled up in his chest just made him see red, which he now regretted, cursing his words and actions with every step he took. But he didn’t look back, pulling open the door and stepping inside of the school while inwardly hoping that he never had to come across that boy again.

*

It didn’t take long for his hopes to fall flat. Eddie made it through two full classes before finding his way to the third and walking in only to find himself face-to-face with Richie. Well, not quite that dramatically. But he was certainly sitting in the middle row next to the window with a pencil tucked behind his ear and his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he scribbled out something into a shabby-looking notebook.

Eddie drew up short, inwardly cursing up a storm as he took a deep breath and tried to tell himself that it didn’t matter. He was really unconvincing. He heard someone complaining about blocking the door behind him and quickly moved, walking to the teacher’s desk slowly as if he was being led to his death. It was only a matter of time before he got noticed. His cheeks were already warming at the idea of it.

“Can I help you?” the teacher asked.

Eddie swallowed hard and nodded, shoving his neatly folded piece of paper towards the older man.

“I’m Eddie Kaspbrak,” he said quietly.

“Ah yes,” the teacher said, peering through his small reading glasses at the paper that introduced him as a new student. “I heard I’d be getting you in here. Wait a minute until everyone gets seated and we’ll find a place for you, okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie said, stepping to the side of the desk so that he wouldn’t be in the way.

He kept his eyes lowered to his folded hands as he bit down on the inside of his cheek.

“Nice shirt, Tozier,” he heard someone said with a snicker in his voice. “I think my grandpa might have it too.”

“Good one,” a familiar voice shot back, sounding utterly unconcerned. “You know, I think I heard you practicing it in the mirror when I snuck in through your mom’s window for a nice long fu-”

“Boys,” the teacher said, interrupting them as Eddie’s eyes widened.

He, along with every other person in the room, was easily able parse out what Richie was about to say.

“Sorry Mr. T,” Richie said as a few quiet giggles rose up around him, his voice making it clear he was smiling.

Eddie risked a glance up only to see that those blue eyes were fixed on him already. He looked away, focusing on the pattern of the teacher’s desk as if it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.

“Take your pick, Mr. Kaspbrak,” the teacher said, gesturing his hand over the classroom while looking down at an attendance book.

Eddie peeked up and swept his eyes over the seats. There were three spare ones. One in the back corner beside the trash can. There was no way in hell that Eddie was going anywhere near that. Another was next to a beefy looking guy with a Letterman jacket and intent in his small, beady eyes. Eddie didn’t know for sure what that intent was but he wasn’t willing to find out.

That left the last one as his best option. The one that was by the window, next to last row, right behind Richie Tozier. Eddie stared at it for a long moment, knowing that he had little choice otherwise. So he moved forward, slipping his backpack from his shoulders as he went. As he drew closer, he saw that even bent, Richie’s legs were too long for the desk and sticking out of either side as he had them splayed out.

Eddie turned to the side to keep from brushing his knee, feeling Richie’s eyes on his face but refusing to look back. He took the seat with a hard swallow, setting his backpack next to his desk after curling one leg beneath him. He unzipped his bag and pulled out a notebook and pencil, feeling strangely jittery as he did it all. The teacher started going through attendance, calling out first names in a bored tone.

It wasn’t until he saw Richie turning around, clearly intending to face him, that Eddie’s heart jumped in his chest and his breath caught in his throat. He didn’t want to be confronted with his biting response from before. He just wanted to forget all about it. He lifted his eyes to meet Richie’s when he finally faced him, preparing for the worst. But then, when the other boy barely managed to open his mouth, someone else spoke nearby.

“Richie.”

Both Eddie and Richie looked to their right, to a boy with angular cheekbones, clear skin, golden brown curly hair, and a stern look in his eyes. He looked at Richie, shaking his head once. Eddie glanced between the two, watching a silent conversation pass between them. Then Richie was turning around again with a huff, muttering something underneath his breath that Eddie couldn’t hear.

He looked to the boy who interrupted and saw both curiosity and uncertainty in his eyes as he stared right back at Eddie. With a small, polite smile, he turned to look at the front of the classroom, leaving Eddie to consider the whole strange interaction until he heard the sound of his name being called for attendance, uttering a quiet “here” before sitting back in his seat and praying for the class to go quickly.

*

The rest of the day went quickly, much to Eddie’s relief. He only had Richie in two more of his classes and managed to avoid him in both. He recognized his friends too, both from seeing them outside that morning and from the curious looks they shot his way, even more than the rest of the school. Eddie avoided all of them too, eating alone beneath a tree outside and moving through the halls quickly.

It wasn’t until the end of the school day that it all came to a head. He was headed down the sidewalk, mapping his journey in his mind since he had to meet his dad at his shop instead of being picked up. He went over it several times with his father, not wanting to get lost in the town on his first day. He was so lost in his mind that stopped short and nearly tripped when a skateboard rolled into his path, his eyes darting up from the ground just as someone spoke.

“If it isn’t the new kid.”

Eddie recognized the voice as the boy who taunted Richie in third period. His instinctively reached towards his pocket as he watched the blonde-haired boy with cold grey eyes walk into his path, kicking the skateboard up into his hand. His inhaler wasn’t there. Eddie made himself stop carrying it around, even going so far as to throw it away before moving into his dad’s house.

His tongue felt like it was glued to the roof of his mouth as a few other boys lingered nearby, all grinning at whatever they anticipated would happen. Eddie’s eyes darted up to the school with uncertainty, wondering if the staff here cared very little for the safety of his students just like at his last school. His eyes flitted back to the person in his path, wondering if he would stop Eddie if he just tried to walk away.

“That’s a pretty fruity shirt, don’t you think?” the boy asked, smirking as his friends all laughed.

Eddie didn’t feel insulted by the dig at his shirt. The color of his clothes wasn’t going to change anything about him. Wearing pink didn’t make him gay. Wanting to kiss boys made him gay, which in turn caused his mother’s ultimate breakdown that had the neighbors calling the cops which lead to a judge handing full custody over to his dad. Eddie felt his retort rising to his lips before he could help it, his anger taking over again.

“You seem really concerned about what other people wear,” Eddie said, tilting his head to the side. “Are you interested in the fashion industry?”

The boy seemed to glitch at that, his eyes darting all over Eddie’s face.

“What the fuck are you trying to say?” he demanded after a few seconds.

Eddie didn’t say anything, sighing inwardly at his own inability to keep himself under control. But before either of them could do anything else, someone stepped up next to him.

“Oh Austin Austin Austin,” Richie Tozier of all people said, shaking his head. “I know you’ve probably gone partially deaf from hearing your old lady scream my name night after night but I believe the young lad here was suggesting that you have a curious interest in the things that other men wear. Is it true, sir?”

He held his hand out as if he was holding a news microphone even though there was nothing there. Austin didn’t hesitate to slap his hand away, stepping forward with fury in his eyes.

“You just hoping you finally found a pillow princess to hop on your dick, Tozier?” the seething boy demanded.

Eddie gritted his teeth, his hands curling into fists.

“You mean you’re not volunteering?” Richie asked without missing a beat, pouting slightly. “I thought we really had something going, sweetheart.”

“In your fucking dreams,” Austin said, shoving Richie.

Eddie moved with him as he stumbled backwards, not really knowing why he did it. He just felt the same pull from before, trying to keep him close to Richie and far away from the obvious bully.

“Hey,” a strong, warm voice came from behind them.

Both Eddie and Richie turned their heads in time to see a boy their age with dark skin and hair and a concerned expression on his face step up behind them. One hand rose to clasp at Richie’s shoulder and for a second, Eddie was afraid that he was another bully. Then he was moving between them, staring Austin down as he exuded a calm, collected aura that was entirely unlike Richie’s chaotic energy and Eddie’s own quick temper.

“I think it’s time we all walk away,” the boy said.

He was much taller than Austin and looked as though he could easily toss him several yards if he wanted to. Eddie wasn’t surprised when Austin stepped away, narrowing his eyes at all three of them.

“You fairies got lucky today,” he said, making it clear that he was talking to Eddie and Richie alone.

Then he and his friends were wandering off, sauntering away to clearly try and safe face like they didn’t all flee at the sight of the bigger boy. Richie let out a heavy sigh as Eddie stepped away from the both of them, uncertain as to what he was supposed to do now.

“You’re a goddamn hero, Mikey-Mike,” Richie said, bumping fists with the boy that Eddie didn’t know. “I think he was about to eat us for dinner.”

“Maybe if you’d stop baiting him with jokes about his mom,” Mike said with a smile and a shake of his head.

“Nonsense,” Richie declared dramatically. “You can’t stop our love.”

Then his eyes moved to Eddie as Mike stepped away. Eddie shifted in place with uncertainty, wishing that he’d moved a little faster to avoid the whole situation with Austin and now with Richie. To be fair, the other boy looked just as uncertain as he felt.

“Thank you,” Eddie finally said.

Not because he needed the help or he couldn’t handle himself. He probably could have figured a way out. But after a lifetime of dealing with a lot on his own, it was surprisingly nice for someone to have his back. Eddie didn’t really know how to react to it. All that he knew was that he might have judged Richie Tozier entirely wrong.

“Ain’t no big thing, cutie,” Richie said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

Eddie’s cheeks filled with color and he shook his head, looking away from Richie. He knew that he should get going. It wasn’t a far walk and his dad would worry if he didn’t show up soon. But still he stood there, staring at Richie as Richie stared back.

“I’m Eddie,” he finally said, reaching out his hand. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Richie Tozier,” Richie said in yet another strange voice that Eddie couldn’t quite place. “The man with a plan and a short term memory. Don’t you think on it for a second.”

He punctuated his words with a wink and Eddie tried his best not to smile.

“What’s your plan?” he asked.

“Ask me when you’re older and I may tell you,” Richie said mysteriously.

He was frustrating. Eddie was rapidly coming to understand that. But he almost didn’t mind it.

“Goodbye, Richie Tozier,” Eddie said, already turning to walk away.

“Short and sweet, I like it,” Richie decided. “See you later, Eddie Spaghetti.”

Eddie stopped short, turning his head as his face darkened.

“Never call me that again,” he said in a low voice.

Richie’s face brightened and his eyes gleamed with mischief. Eddie was almost certain that he’d be hearing it again.

“The cutest,” Richie said with a shake of his head, grinning at him before turning away to walk down the sidewalk towards where his friends were waiting.

Eddie began his walk towards the auto garage that his father owned, ruminating over the odd interaction and wondering if he might have just found a friend in the very odd boy. The more he thought about it, the more he knew he wouldn’t really mind being friends with Richie. By the time he reached the garage, there was a smile on his lips and Eddie found himself almost looking forward to school the next day.

[eunbinppap]

Memories

This is my contribution for @popnikkiofficial​‘s Summer 2018 Zine. Hope you enjoy!

[ao3 mirror]

-x-

Dusk is fast approaching in Wintermount. A soft breeze blows through the beach. The sky, painted in rose, blue and lilac, remains clear, save for a few clouds on the edge of the horizon. Gulls fly ahead, cawing and chirping without a care. Waves sweep in and out, crashing gently against the sand, masking the sound of Nikki’s footsteps.

It’s strange being on her own. Usually she has Momo and Bobo accompanying her. Without the two of them bickering or Momo criticising her outfit every five seconds, the beach feels quieter. Lonelier even.

She sits near the water, letting the sea wash over her feet.Now that she thinks about it, Nikki can’t recall the last time she’s ever truly been alone. Before she had come to Miraland she had Yoyo, her sister. Her dad was there too, before he’d left for his photography trip. And of course, there was Momo. Because when had that darned cat not been there with her?

She still remembers the day Momo first spoke to her. He had been in their family for three years and had acted just like a regular house cat up until the grand reveal.

-x-

It happened eight summers ago at her aunt’s wedding.

The church was small but beautifully decorated. Pale fairy lights were woven through flowers to make them glow. Petals fluttered gracefully throughout the ceremony. The seats filled rapidly thanks to the many relatives attending, and soft, orchestral music was playing as they settled.

Nikki stood near the back, the petals in her hand shaking. It was her first time being a flower girl, after all, so she really didn’t want to mess it up. Yoyo was by her side, trying to calm her down.

“Nikki, breathe.” She moved her hand, as if conducting an orchestra. “In and out… in and out…”

Nikki tried to concentrate on her big sister’s voice, taking deep breaths until she heard the music change. Her ears prickled at the soundz, and she nearly forgot to breathe. But Yoyo smiled and she took a final, shaky breath.

She began to walk, leaving coral petals in her wake. The bride was only a few feet behind her, following her trail. She could vaguely hear the clicking of Dad’s camera. Nikki finally felt she could actually do this. She reminded herself to smile, but based on the expressions on the faces of her family, she knew she could make it. I can do this, she thought proudly. 

Then halfway down the aisle, disaster struck.

“What on earth are you wearing Nikki?!”

The audience gasped at the shrill voice. Nikki froze dead in her tracks, eyes comically wide, smile dropping instantly. She turned around to see a truly bizarre image in front of her.

There, at the end of the aisle, was Momo, standing on his hind legs and wearing a cape for some reason. He was pointing at her feet, a smug, mocking look gracing his features.

She slowly looked down at her own outfit. Her face grew hotter by the second. She was wearing a pale pink dress with a magenta ribbon around the waist with matching gloves and socks.

And crocs. 

Bright, neon pink crocs. 

“Trying to match your face I see,” Momo continued, as if he didn’t just ruin her aunt’s big day. “Here’s your first styling tip: never, ever, wear crocs at a wedding!”

Suddenly there was a thud. Everyone looked behind the cat to see Yoyo on the ground, hand on her forehead. Her flower crown had fallen off.Silence. Tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Then...

Click!

-x-

Nikki laughs at the memory. In Momo’s defence, wearing crocs at a wedding was a bad idea. Unfortunately, Dad had that specific picture framed not long after, forever immortalized above their fireplace.

She honestly doesn’t know where she’d be without Momo. Under his (usually) helpful guidance, her styling skills have flourished. He’s been with her basically all her life and stuck with her throughout all of her crazy adventures. A true ride or die, for better or for worse.

Reminiscing on the past makes the beach feel less lonely, Nikki finds. It’s nice to think about times gone by as she watches the sun set. The sky takes on more of a reddish hue now. Makes the sun itself look more like an egg yolk. It’s nice to know that no matter what country (or dimension) you’re in, the sun stays the same.

The image takes her back to a simpler time. A time where she didn’t really think about what she wore. A time where her biggest concerns were creating the best sandcastle and getting ice-cream. A time where she could be with all of her family.

-x-

Mom had finally come home after a long business trip, so with Dad, they all decided to go to the local beach. Nikki and Yoyo were excited as it was their first time going to one. Yoyo spent at least an hour trying to decide which swimsuit to wear and ended up wearing a purple one piece with matching flip-flops. Nikki wore an indigo one piece with a bow at the side, an orange sun hat and lime green crocs (because at six, she hadn’t developed a fashion sense or found Momo just yet).

The beach was an hour’s drive so they stopped for ice-cream on the way. This was where Yoyo had the bright idea of eating grilled fish ice cream with squid sauce. That went great, if one considers contracting food poisoning the next day to be fun.

Once they got to the beach, though, the two girls didn’t hesitate to start searching for materials they could use to build and decorate their sandcastles. Yoyo’s castle fell apart almost immediately because she didn’t wet the sand enough. When she saw Nikki’s perfectly intact masterpiece, she got annoyed and destroyed it when her sister wasn’t looking. Both of them burst into tears and Nikki ran to her parents.

“Daddy! Yoyo ruined my castle!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

The squabble escalated to a full on sand fight with Nikki chasing Yoyo all across the beach and into the ocean. It wasn’t until Dad suggested they bury him in the sand that they calmed down.

“Mommy, look! Look!” Nikki cried, a bright, gummy smile on her face. “Dad’s stuck in the sand!”

“Nikki!” Yoyo covered her mouth in an attempt to shush her, but ended up getting sand in her mouth.

“Hey!”

While this was going on, Mom was relaxing on a beach chair. Long, pink hair sprawled around her. She was holding a silver reflector, presumably to get a tan. She lowered her oversized sunglasses to watch her kids play and smiled.

After swimming in the ocean and getting thoroughly soaked, they took a picture in front of the setting sun. All smiling, all happy, all peaceful.

Soon after, Mom announced that she had to leave.

“Gone to visit a friend far away,” Dad had said. “Should be back any day now.”

That day never came.

-x-

It’s raining. The sky is darker and cloudier. The air is colder. The tide is coming farther and farther in. Nikki knows that she should be heading home soon; that whatever thinking she needs to do can be done on the way back to Bobo’s house. But she can’t bring herself to.

The sand is damp and squishy beneath her feet. Her hair darkens. Starts sticking to her face. She can barely feel the hot rain rolling down her cheeks. She should’ve listened to Orange’s advice and brought rain-proof clothing, or at the very least an umbrella.

Does it have to rain so much in Wintermount? This city almost makes Ireland look like a desert in heat. And that place was practically underwater it was so wet. It was a beautiful country, though. She, Yoyo and Momo went to visit the Cliffs of Moher last summer while looking for their father, and the view was spectacular. Tall, green cliffs surrounding a vast, blue ocean  stretched as far as the eye could see. The sun melted into the horizon, leaving golden hues in its wake. It was truly worth the effort to get there in Nikki's opinion, but the minute they reached the cliffs, Momo fell flat on his face, crying out for grilled fish until it was time to leave.

“It’s beautiful,” Yoyo had said, an expression of wonder on her face. Then her face softened. Her eyes gained a faraway look.

“I wish Dad could see this.”

Nikki remained silent. Hesitantly, she took her sister’s trembling hand. She felt it tighten around her own, much like her heart as she thought of sharing this sight with her family.

-x-

“Nikki! There you are!”

Momo’s voice breaks her trance. Nikki’s suddenly aware of the harsh wind blowing against her face. She hears a roar of thunder in the distance.

Her vision is blurry. Her throat is unusually tight. She blinks quickly. She places her hand against her chest and clenches the material of her dress, taking a few breaths to steady herself. She puts on her usual smile and turns around to see Momo running towards her. Bobo is close behind with an umbrella in one hand and a towel in another.

“My goodness, Nikki,” Momo exclaims. “We were worried sick! What were you doing out here?”

Good ol’ Momo, she thought. Straight to the point as always.

“Just thinking,��� she replies. Her smile turns sheepish. “Sorry for staying out so long.”

Momo sighs and crosses his arms. “Well. Make sure to tell us before you pull another stunt like that, young lady.” 

Nikki chuckles at the comment. “Roger that.”

Momo huffs before letting out a big yawn and climbing onto Bobo’s shoulder. He curls up and not even a few seconds later, he begins to snore. Bobo rolls her eyes at the cat before turning to Nikki.

“Ah, thank you,” Nikki says, giving her a grateful smile as she tries to take the towel from her. Bobo grasps her hand and pushes it down.

“Here. Let me.” Bobo stands on her toes and rubs the towel against Nikki’s hair to dry it.

They stand in silence for the next few minutes. It feels nice, having Bobo dry her hair. She has such a gentle, caring way of doing it. She likes it.

Suddenly she feels a hand caress her face through the towel. She looks at Bobo, confused. Her face feels warm all of a sudden.

“Your face was wet,” she explains. Her blue eyes are filled with concern.

Ah. “Just... the rain,” she says, a sheepish grin on her face. “Yeah.”

Bobo looks like she doesn’t believe her but doesn’t press on the issue. She strokes Nikki’s cheek one last time before turning.

“Let's go home,” she states. “Momo looks like he needs a bed.” She begins to walk away. Then she pauses and looks back. She smiles at Nikki and reaches out a hand. “You do, too.”

Nikki nods and takes her hand. Together, the three of them begin to head back to Wheat Field.

Her dad always told her that home was where memories are made. She wonders if, one day, she can call Miraland home too.

-fin-

[youremarvelous]

6! phichit!

6. piggyback rides

“How are you so good at walking in those?”

Phichit smiles at Yuuri— it’s somewhere between the ‘you poor thing’ smile and the blushy, one-dimpled smirk that stretches into the corner of his mouth whenever he’s been pursuing a compliment and is finally rewarded for his efforts. “Being sober helps,” he says, clacking along confidently, shoulders square and spine straight in a pair of four inch, sparkling sequined platform heels.

That seems weird to Yuuri even as he trips over his own feet, and…oh, why does he only have on one shoe? His head might be swimming with New Year’s champagne punch and probably (definitely) a handful too many jello shots, but he can’t remember a time when being sober helped anything. It certainly didn’t help him win over Viktor’s affections when he’d met him during last year’s Grand Prix series, if avoiding eye contact and ducking into bathroom stalls to catch his breath in his hands constituted meeting.

Drunk Yuuri got into shenanigans that sober Yuuri often found embarrassing in the critical light of morning and head-pounding sobriety, but sober Yuuri also panicked over stupid things like talking to the man he used to jack off to when he was thirteen and burping up a little champagne into his shoe while waiting for Phichit in a strangely sticky corner of the frat house living room turned dance floor, so what does he care.

“Me and Viktor would have beautiful babies,” Yuuri says because his brain to mouth filter is degraded by a night of trying to forget the past year’s failures via throat-burning alcohol and the aftertaste of lime.

Phichit hooks his arm into Yuuri’s and plucks the lopsided glasses from Yuuri’s face. “Obviously, that’s just science,” he agrees, hanging the glasses on the collar of his coat.

“The best science!” Yuuri pats at his face, distantly wondering where his glasses went. “I’m gonna marry his stupid face!” Yuuri shouts at the star-studded sky, and then—because his voice is already ratcheted up in tune with his drunken enthusiasm—breaks out in a one stanza version of Chapel of Love. Phichit starts harmonizing with him on the second run through because he’s beautiful and smart and this is what best friends are for.

They’re also good for transit, Yuuri realizes when he soaks his sock in a slushy puddle and Phichit tuts and forces Yuuri into climbing up on his back for the rest of their trek. “Frostbitten toes aren’t a figure skater’s friend,” he says, and who is Yuuri to argue? Phichit knows everything about friends, obviously, which is why he’s so good at being one.

Yuuri hides his face in Phichit’s neck, shielding his eyes from the blinking Christmas lights illuminating their path. When he’s sober he’ll realize how impressive it is for Phichit to be lugging his taller, heavier, drunken-er ass down an icy sidewalk in four-inch heels, but for now, he closes his eyes and lets the comforting sway of Phichit’s back drag him to sleep.

When Yuuri wakes up a rumpled mess the next day to the critical light of morning, head-pounding sobriety, and an unhealthy dose of embarrassment, he’s thankful to be curled up in his own bed. His face is stuck to the pillow with drool, but at least it’s his drool and his pillow.

Phichit is spooned up behind him—even, sleepy breaths upsetting the fine hairs at Yuuri’s nape— and it feels safe and warm in a way Yuuri hasn’t since stepping off the plane in America.

It might not be a kiss from a beautiful Russian, but it’s not a bad start to a new year, all told.

touch prompts

the shoes in question

[xxmadsxoxo]

How to get on Santa’s nice list.

{Part Six}

Pairing: Buck Barnes x Reader

Pre warning: Fluff, Fluff, and some more fluff

Warnings: Swearing, Bucky, alcohol, loss of clothing and probably bad punctuation because I’m using my phone.

Summary: you moved in with your best friends apartment around 3 years ago, and found out she has one hot neighbor. Only problem is he is a huge smart mouth, and he always has jokes. Worst thing of all is he is a huge flirt, the boy could make your face warm up with a look. One day he gave you a snarky comment (to no surprise.) but you decided in spirit of the holiday to challenge him. No, smart mouth, or dirty jokes for the rest of November lets see if he can get on Santa’s nice list.

Here’s part 5

This is for (@lovelynemesis) Sam’s rockin’ around the Christmas tree writing challenge!

11:22am

You’d think time would have gone fast, considering I watched cat videos with my headphones. That was not the case, time went by 100% slower than I thought. Everyone slowly started showing up 15 minutes ago, and the only person tony is waiting on is Bucky and Steve. I’ll get drinks while they wait. “Anyone want a drink?” Nat looks up and says she wants a water, sam, and Wanda say the same. Thor, Clint, and Bruce want coffee. I already have creamer and sugars for them to do it their own way. “Alrighty I’ll be right back.”

____

After I get to the conference room Steve, and Bucky walk out of the elevator. I set the last cup of coffee down, before the super soilders walk in. “Well it’s about time boys. Any drinks for ether one of you?” Steve sits next to Sam, and Bucky sits next to Vision and Thor. “I’ll take a coffe doll.” My face warms up a bit, and I try to fight a smile. I didn’t expect him to use that nickname in front of everyone, and knowing how he uses it makes it 100x worse. “I’ll just have a water Hun.” Steve nods at me with a warm smile.

I walk to the elevator, and wait for it to come down. Just as it opens, out walks Rhodes, and Ms. Potts I step back instantly so I’m not in their way. “Oh hey, y/n right?” Jim asks, as pepper looks back and forth between us confused as to why she doesn’t know me. I nod “Yes, that would be me.” I smile, and Rhodes explains “Tony’s been blabbing my ear off for two days about a new assistant, it’s nice to finally put a face to the name.” I chuckle a bit, and smile at my feet.

“Well I’m reall happy to be working here. Before you run off, do you guys want any drinks?” Pepper shakes her head and starts walking off, and Rhodes looks at me with an apologetic smile. “She’s probably a bit upset, because Tony isn’t really supposed to hire anyone without her thoughts.” “Ohhhh.” He looks to the room, and back at me. “She’ll be alright, she probably will talk more with you though.” I nod in understanding. “Alrighty well could I get you a drink?” He walks backwards to the room, and points at me. “A coffee would be great, thank you.” I point back at him with a stupid smile. “No problem I’ll be right back.”

_____

After a second trip, I finally can sit and listen. I’m a fairly patient person so I won’t mind doing this more often. I look from the board to the group, and spot Bucky looking at my…legs? He looks up and figures out I caught him, immediately looking at the pages in front of him like he wasn’t doing anything. I smile, and look back at the board. I guess a skirt was a good choice.

It’s about 12 and tony only just finished mission reports, he still has to explain the next mission plan. I start getting uncomfortable from sitting in the same position, so I stand. While I’m up everyone with coffe lifts their cup. I head upstairs for the third time, and pour more coffee. Bringing them all down on a tray, reminds of me of when I was a waitress in my shitty hometown. Except now I’m serving coffee to super hero’s, and not 95 year old men trying to hit on me. Well Bucky and Steve can be in that category, but hey they don’t look 90 and their teeth are perfect.

Opening the conference room door, nobody looking away from the board or their papers. I give Banner and Barton their coffee Rhodes, and Barnes, I bend over to reach past Thor so I could set his coffee down withought spilling it. As I stand up I look at Bucky, and he was definitely looking at my ass, because he jerks his head back toward the board as I stand straight. He is checking me out shamelessly, and I don’t understand why all the sudden.

___________

1:30pm

Everyone is saying their goodbyes, and Buck is the last one to go. Tony touches my shoulder to get my attention “Meet me in the lab?” I smile back at him. “Sure thing Mr. Stark.” As he’s walking out the door he stops “Oh and just Tony is fine.” He walks out and steps into the elevator. Bucky stacks all his papers and rolls them up stuffing them inside his coat pocket. “So how are you liking the job doll?” I walk to the table grabbing the empty water bottles. “It’s pretty great, Tony isn’t as bossy as I thought he’d be.” I bend over the table to grab a couple of the empty coffee cups as well. I swear I heard buck groan, but it could have been my imagination. “Maybe you need someone to boss you around.” I scoff looking at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He looks at me with wide eyes. “Oh god, I didn’t mean for that to come out.” He looks at the floor and back at me “…to come out like that I mean.” I stand tall with my hands on my hips “So how do you mean for it to come out?” He leans on the chair taking too long to answer. “I knew it, I knew you would think this wasn’t a real job. I just wanted your support, but it seems that’s too hard for you.” I stomp out of the conference room and head down to the lab.

_________

2:12pm

When tony said he needed my help, what he actually meant was I need to you to sit in my lab until I need a fire extinguisher. Apparently the last person on that job wasn’t too great. I only had to put out two fires so far, small panic attacks included.

“Alright Ms.Y/n you’re free to go. I’m done in here for the day, well with possible fire starting things.” He laughs a bit before setting things back in it’s place. “Alrighty, I’m gonna head home than. You sure you don’t need me for anything else?” Tony shakes his head “Nope I think that’s all, see you tomorrow?” I smile and put my hands in my jacket pockets. “Absolutely, I’ll see you then.” I head out with a wave goodbye.

________

I didn’t realize how tired I was until I got out of my shoes and onto the couch. I could pass out right now, but Instead Bucky walks in. “Nat!” I sit up groaning. “She’s not here.” I look at him with a squint “Oh y/n I didn’t know you were laying there. Sorry.” He walks towards the couch. “Where is she than?” I shake my head “I have no idea, I thought she was still at Tony’s.” He nods, and pats my shoulder. “Alright than, sorry I woke ya doll.” He closes the door and I whip a pillow at it. Who does that bastard think he is? First he says I need to be bossed around, like I’m not good at my job without it? After checking me out all day I might add. Then he disturbs my almost nap? What the hell has gotten into him? I turn on the tv, and watch some Charmed before I fell asleep on the couch once more. No disturbances.

__________

5:43pm

Woken up by a phone call.

“Hello?” I say half asleep.

“Hey Y/n it’s Tony, it turns out I’m gonna need you here tonight.” He coughs away from the phone. “Is that alright?”

I sit up, and rub my eyes. “Yeah that’s fine Mr. Stark. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Running into my room I grab my brush and some clothes, brushing my hair and putting it back so it’s out of my face. I put on my favorite Minnie Mouse sweater, the old black and white Minnie Mouse. I throw on my favorite black sweats, and I head out the house with my phone and my keys. A cab picks me up, and I’m off.

_________

6:16pm

I run into the elevator, and wait to get to the conference floor. Tony is waiting in there with a stack of papers on his desk. I walk in with a smile. “Hey, sorry it took me so long traffic was terrible.” Tony stands up and smiles back at me. “Oh it’s alright, I hate driving in the city for that reason.” He stacks more papers into the pile “I just need you to carry this up to the living qaurters, and put it in the kitchen counter. I’ll be following you with these.” He holds up two boxes, that look really light compared to the papers.

We finally get to the kitchen and I set them on counter, he sets the boxes next to them. He grabs my arm. “Come with me Hun.” He walks me towards what looks like a living room, and as he flicks on the lights everyone jumps up yelling. “Congratulations!” I jump only slightly, and smile. “What’s all this?” Tony laughs “We just wanted to welcome you to the family, we’ve all known you for quite sometime and now you’re a part of us.” I chuckle “I don’t know about all that, I’m just here to make sure you all have your beverages.” Sam throws his hand up and down real quick to catch my attention “Which speaking of, y/n can you get me a water ?” Everyone laughs and Bucky nudges him earning a look from Sam. “Only kiddin’ girl!”

Nat walks up with two bottles, one being tequila, and the other being vodka. “Pick your poison darling.” I smile, and grab the tequila. “Well you know, you can never go wrong with some josé cuervo.” I say before opening her up. “Who wants in?” I yell in hopes everyone plans on drinking. Everyone runs up with shot glasses in hand, I pour a shot for everyone. “To y/n!” Bucky yells, and everyone repeats as I smile like an idiot. We all clink, and throw it back. Everyone goes for the bowl of limes, and I smile. This has gotta be the most fun I’ve had all week.

____

8:45pm

I get drunk pretty quick considering I didn’t really eat or drink much all day, which reminds me I should really have some water or something before I die of thirst. I go to stand but my legs fail me, I prepare myself to come into contact with the floor but it doesn’t come. Bucky caught me before I could fall, and he smiles standing me straight. “You alright there doll?” How the hell isn’t he drunk? “I’m-I’m pre-pretty great…Barnes.” I hiccup a couple times, before Bucky helps me sit back down. “I’m gonna get you some water, I’ll be right back.” Everyone’s having a blast, they’ve been having talks about Asgard, and the wonders of super soldier serum. Which brings out Natasha’s need for answers to her curiostiy. Bucky walks in with the water bottle and sits next to me to make sure I don’t spill it. I take a big gulp or two, and he puts the cap back on. Nat looks over at us and smiles.

“Hey Barnes you should be a part of this one.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh is that so?”

She wiggles hers. “Yeah, what does the super soldier serum do for you?”

He smiles, and blushes a bit. “It keeps me strong, and steady. Also I’m unable to get drunk, so that’s unfortunate.”

Nat smiles. “I bet it does good things for you in bed too.” Wanda laughs, and the boys all ohh, and whistle. Laughter holds over the room for a moment before Bucky answers. “Well I wouldn’t know, haven’t exactly been on a date if you get my point.” Thor waves his hammer before asking. “Wait, so you and y/n haven’t done anything?” I scoff and say way too loudly. “No, but I wish we would.” Everyone kind of shuts up, and stares at me for a second. Bucky stands up, Nat does as well. She helps me up with Buck before she says “Time for you to go home. Thanks Tony, thanks you guys.” Her goodbyes go quickly, as I yell they lug me away from the group “Thanks y-y-you guys! Have a..goo-goodnight!”

——————

10:56pm

Bucky helps me into bed. “Waaait buck, I gotta take offs my clothes, I can’t sleep with sw- sweats.. an-and a sweater.” Bucky holds my arms “Doll you can take off your clothes when I leave the room okay?” I shake my head and pout. “Whyy, where’s Nat?” Bucky shakes his head trying not to smile. “She went to bed.” He try’s to take off my headband, but I keep pulling away. “I need help getting out of my clothes Buck.” He stops, and looks at me with many thoughts going through his mind. “Doll are you sure you can’t get it yourself..?” I nod, and attempt to pull off my sweater, but I’m like a limp noodle how I’m sitting up right now is beyond me.

“Alright, I’ll help you.” He moves the covers off me, and takes off my pants. I giggle a bit, and he comes back up helping me out of my sweater. I smile “Thanks buucckyy.” He smiles back at me as he covers me up again. Just as he’s about to walk away, I grab his arm. “Wait I can’t sleep with a bra on.” He looks at me, and closes his eyes. He sighs, and opens it from behind taking it off all the way. I cover up as best I can. “Okay, Goodnight Doll.” I smile real big, and hold his hand. “Do I get a goodnight kiss?” He bends down and kisses my forehead. “Sweet dreams love.” He walks to the door “Goodnight Buck.” He shuts off the light, and shuts the door.

_________________

•••••••••••••••••

Part 7 will be up soon! I’m not sure if that will be the last one or not. Maybe part 8 will be. I hope you guys are liking it so far, and if you wanna be in the tag list just comment or leave me an ask! Xoxo

Tag List: @starkxpotts @ailynalonso15 @boyzines @buckysforeverprincess @of-rin-and-carlile @isnt-the-blog-youre-looking-for @libbymouse

[j0sgomez-blog]

Anna Garofalo on the final day trekking the Tour du Mont Blanc in the Alps.

By Michael Lanza

Can travel “change your life?” How many experiences have such an enormous impact? I can name several that shifted my perspective, or expanded how I view the world and other people. Exploring the surreal landscapes of Iceland and Patagonia. Walking among Earth’s highest mountains in Nepal, through remote villages where people live much as their ancestors did for centuries. Immersing myself in the mountain culture on hut treks in the Alps like the Tour du Mont Blanc (photo above). And seeing unforgettable places like Norway’s Jotunheimen National Park, Italy’s Dolomites, and Alaska’s Glacier Bay through the unclouded eyes of my kids.

Our earliest and sometimes most inspirational experiences usually happen within our own national borders, and often close to where we grew up or live. (That was the case for me on a bicycle tour with two buddies in our home state when we were 19.) And without question, several U.S. national parks deserve a spot on any list of the world’s must-see destinations, among them the Grand Canyon, Yosemite, Glacier, Zion, and the Everglades—not to mention several parks in Alaska, where you can see the breadth of wildlife that once existed all over the planet.

But there’s something about traveling abroad that puts everything you see, hear, and touch under a magnifying glass. Everything is exotic. People talk and think differently. Culture is alien, history a refreshingly new collection of stories.

Blend those elements into a hike through mountains you’ve never seen before, or paddling pristine waters, and you have the formula for an experience that does alter our perception of the world and our place in it. Take a child on a trip like that and you may actually reroute the trajectory of a young person’s life—very much for the better.

  Click on any photo in the gallery below to scroll through the photo viewer.

  This article describes 15 international adventures I’ve taken from Europe to Asia and New Zealand, plus a couple of “bonus” trips in the U.S. and Canada: sea kayaking Alaska’s Glacier Bay and backpacking the Rockwall Trail in Kootenay National Park, in the Canadian Rockies—a total of 17 trips to add to your list. These short descriptions provide links to feature-length stories about each trip at The Big Outside that include many images and information for planning those trips yourself.

Setting off on a life-changing experience requires some planning and self-motivation. Get started now.

Bon voyage.

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  Hiking toward Courmayeur, Italy, on the Tour du Mont Blanc.

Trekking the Tour du Mont Blanc

Look at any list of the world’s greatest hiking trails, and the Tour du Mont Blanc almost invariably occupies a spot at or near the top of it. The first reason is the sheer majesty of this roughly 105-mile (170k) walking path around the “Monarch of the Alps:” Crossing several mountain passes reaching nearly 9,000 feet, it delivers views of glaciers, pointy peaks and “aiguilles,” and the snowy dome of Mont Blanc. But there’s also the rich cultural experience of passing through three nations—France, Italy, and Switzerland—as well as some of the best food I’ve eaten on any international trip. Plus, the abundance of scenic mountain towns and villages and availability of public transportation allows hikers to customize their trek, choosing which sections to hike depending on difficulty, weather, and how they feel.

See my story “Hiking the Tour du Mont Blanc at an 80-Year-Old Snail’s Pace.”

  Click here now for my e-guide “The Perfect, Flexible Plan for Hiking the Tour du Mont Blanc.”

  Jeff Wilhelm in Torres del Paine National Park, in Chile’s Patagonia region.

Trekking a Patagonian Classic: Torres del Paine National Park

Undoubtedly one of the most prized trekking destinations in the world, Torres del Paine National Park is Chile’s Yosemite. In the vast region known as Patagonia, it is a place of severely vertical stone monoliths thousands of feet tall; imagine looking at Yosemite Valley stacked atop one of the deep valleys of Glacier National Park. Cracked glaciers stretch many miles long and wide, calving into emerald lakes, and the wind will knock you off your feet. Hiking hut-to-hut or camping on the roughly 31-mile (50k) “W” trek, on the south side of the mountains—where the weather is often better than the north side—takes in some of the park’s finest scenery.

See my story “Patagonian Classic: Trekking Torres del Paine.”

  Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside, which has made several top outdoors blog lists. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Subscribe now to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip. Please follow my adventures on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Youtube.

  Hiking the Alta Via 2 in the Pale di San Martino, Dolomite Mountains, Italy.

Trekking Through Italy’s Dolomite Mountains

On a weeklong, hut-to-hut trek through one of the world’s most spectacular and storied mountain ranges, Italy’s Dolomites, my family hiked a 39-mile (62k) section of the roughly 112-mile (180k) Alta Via 2 (AV 2), or “The Way of the Legends.” An alpine footpath famous for scenery that puts it in legitimate contention for the title of the most beautiful trail in the world, the AV 2 is also known for comfortable mountain huts with excellent food—and a reputation for being the most remote and difficult of the several multi-day alte vie, or “high paths,” that crisscross the Dolomites. On one of my family’s biggest adventures, we discovered that it was all of those things and more.

See my story “The World’s Most Beautiful Trail: Trekking the Alta Via 2 in Italy’s Dolomites.”

  Want to explore the world’s most beautiful mountains? Do it on one of these trips to the Dolomites.

  Hiking Blahnukur, in Fjallabak Nature Reserve, Iceland.

Adventuring in Iceland

Steam from hot springs and other geothermal features issues from scores of points stretching to a distant horizon. Mud pots bubble and burp, and the landscape is a kaleidoscope of color—paint-can spills of ochre, pink, gold, plum, brown, rust, and honey against a backdrop of purple pumice and electric-lime moss. An old, hardened lava flow pours down one mountainside in a jumbled train wreck of razor-sharp black rhyolite. Chattering streams carry the runoff from July snowfields smeared across the highlands. And that’s just the first day on the Laugavegur Trail. A 33.5-mile (54k), hut-to-hut trek in the remote Fjallabak Nature Reserve of Iceland’s Central Highlands, it belongs on any list of the world’s most beautiful paths.

See my story “Earth, Wind, and Fire: A Journey to the Planet’s Beginnings in Iceland.”

  Iceland will change your life. Take one of these 21 top trips in Iceland.

  Hikers at the rim of Mount Ngauruhoe, Tongariro National Park, New Zealand.

Hiking Active Volcanoes in New Zealand

Tongariro National Park looks like a place devastated by a very big bomb—which is sort of what happened. On a 12.1-mile dayhike over three of the main craters of Tongariro, you’ll summit one mountain that erupted 45 times in the 20th century and stand at the edge of another that last erupted little more than a century ago—an eye blink in geologic time. A third, just a few miles to the south, ranks among the world’s most active. But beyond its prolific volcanism, Tongariro is known for its strikingly stark, Technicolor moonscape painted in vivid shades of burnt red, orange, brilliant white, gray, deep black, yellow, and brown.

See my story “Super Volcanoes: Hiking the Steaming Peaks of New Zealand’s Tongariro National Park.”

  The Big Outside helps you find the best adventures. Subscribe now to read ALL stories and get a free e-guide!

Jasmine and Jeff Wilhelm trekking across Norway’s Jotunheimen National Park.

Trekking Norway’s Jotunheimen National Park

Jotunheimen—which means “Home of the Giants”—contains the highest European mountains north of the Alps, starkly barren peaks rising to more than 8,000 feet. In this rugged, Arctic-looking landscape, vibrantly colorful with shrubs, mosses, and wildflowers, cliffs and mountains look like they were chopped from the earth with an axe, braided rivers meander down mostly treeless valleys, and reindeer roam wild. My family’s 60-mile (96.6k), hut-to-hut trek across Jotunheimen combined pristine wilderness with the most luxurious huts I’ve ever stayed in, a trail network that allows for flexibility in route options, and side hikes to summits with mind-blowing views of mountains buried in snow and ice, including the highest peak in Norway.

See my story “Walking Among Giants: A Three-Generation Hut Trek in Norway’s Jotunheimen National Park.”

  Click here now to plan your next great backpacking adventure using my downloadable, expert e-guides.

  Kayaking Milford Sound, Fiordland National Park, New Zealand.

Sea Kayaking New Zealand’s Milford Sound

The Milford Track in Fiordland National Park has earned a reputation as one of the great multi-day hikes on the planet in part for its views of Milford Sound. It’s also one of the hardest treks in the world to book hut reservations on. Instead—or in addition to trekking the Milford Track—spend a day paddling sea kayaks in Milford Sound, soaking up views of cliffs wearing a thick fur of rainforest rising to over 5,000 feet straight out of the sea, and waterfalls plunging hundreds of feet into the ocean. You may spot bottlenose dolphins and Fiordland crested penguins. Plan it for a day of clear weather—something of a rarity in Fiordland—and it will be a highlight of any New Zealand vacation.

See my “Photo Gallery: Sea Kayaking New Zealand’s Milford Sound.”

  I can help you plan the best backpacking, hiking, or family adventure of your life. Find out more here.

  Trekking the Dientes Circuit, Chilean Patagonia.

Backpacking Unknown Patagonia: The Dientes Circuit

Billed as the southernmost trek in the world, the 22.7-mile (36.5k) Dientes Circuit around the jagged, rocky peaks of the Dientes de Navarino, or “Teeth of Navarino,” certainly qualifies as one of the most remote: At 55 degrees south latitude, the Dientes, which rise up from the edge of town and reach almost 4,000 feet in elevation, lie just 60 miles from the tip of South America and a short flight from the Antarctic Peninsula. While renowned treks in Patagonia, like those in Torres del Paine (see above), attract thousands of international trekkers every year, you may not see anyone else in four days on the Dientes Circuit—giving you a sense of what Patagonia was like before it became a darling of the international trekkers’ set. That’s not only because of its remoteness: This is a very strenuous, mostly off-trail hike that demands expert backcountry skills—all part of the challenge and reward of this unique backpacking trip.

See my story “Unknown Patagonia: Backpacking the Dientes Circuit.”

  Stay dry, warm, and happy. See my reviews of “The 5 Best Rain Jackets For the Backcountry.”

  The summit of Mount Luxmore, Kepler Track, Fiordland National Park.

Trekking New Zealand’s Kepler Track

One of New Zealand’s Great Walks, the three- to four-day, approximately 37-mile (60k) Kepler Track delivers a grand tour of Fiordland National Park’s diverse landscapes, from moss-blanketed beech forest to the tussock-carpeted high country. It ranks among the most scenic and varied hut treks in a country blessed with a crazy wealth of gorgeous trails. More than that, though, the Kepler presents a relatively mud-, flood-, and hassle-free, hut-to-hut hiking experience. Its hiker-friendly construction, and the relative ease of securing hut reservations compared with hugely popular tracks like the Milford and Routeburn, make it one of the most accessible hut treks in a land where everything from weather to logistics can mess with your adventure plans.

See my story “New Zealand’s Best, Uncomplicated Hut Trek: The Kepler Track.”

  No time for a big trip this year? You need to read my “10 Tips For Getting Outside More.”

  Kayaking past the Lamplugh Glacier, Glacier Bay National Park, Alaska.

Sea Kayaking Alaska’s Glacier Bay

On a five-day, guided sea kayaking trip in Southeast Alaska’s Glacier Bay National Park, my family probed deep into one of the most pristine and largest wildernesses left on Earth. Surrounded by snowy peaks smothered in more than 50 glaciers, some of which explosively calve icebergs into the sea, Glacier Bay is a 65-mile-long fjord that opens a window onto what North America looked like when the last Ice Age drew to a close 10,000 years ago. A short list of the many critters you may see includes humpback whales, orcas, brown bears, Steller sea lions, and birds like black-legged kittiwake, pigeon guillemot, bald eagles, two kinds of puffin. Few trips in America are this wild.

See my story “Back to the Ice Age: Sea Kayaking Glacier Bay.”

  Hiking to Cascade Saddle on a trek of New Zealand’s Rees-Dart Track.

Trekking the Rees-Dart Track in New Zealand’s Mount Aspiring National Park

Although just spitting distance from the popular Routeburn Track, with scenery copied and pasted from the same Southern Alps template, the longer and more rugged Rees-Dart remains largely overlooked by the armies of international trekkers. But that’s not due to an inferior experience. The 37.2-mile (60k) Rees-Dart, most of which falls within Mount Aspiring National Park, goes from lush forest of twisted beech and ferns to treeless sub-alpine terrain carpeted with tussock grasses and the dagger-like fronds of speargrass. You’ll get sweeping views of glaciated mountains from 4,747-foot (1,447-meter) Rees Saddle and on the trail to 5,000-foot (1,524-meter) Cascade Saddle, including the striking pyramid of Mount Aspiring looming above the green Matukituki River Valley.

See my story “Off the Beaten Track in New Zealand: Trekking the Rees-Dart in Mount Aspiring National Park.”

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  Dawn light on Dhaulagiri, Annapurna Circuit, Nepal.

Trekking Nepal’s Annapurna Circuit

The tiny mountain kingdom of Nepal has long held an exalted status in the minds of international trekkers, and the Annapurna Circuit stands beside the trek to Everest base camp as Nepal’s most popular and accessible. Over roughly three weeks, you’ll walk about 150 miles from village to village, below some of the world’s tallest peaks, glaciated giants so unfathomably big that, at times, they can seem drift farther away even as you approach them. You eat and sleep in teahouses while following an ancient trade route over the Thorung La, a mountain pass at 17,769 feet. After three decades of adventures all over the world, this remains one of the most culturally fascinating and beautiful trips I’ve ever taken.

See my story “Himalayan Shangri-La: Trekking Nepal’s Annapurna Circuit.”

  Discover the enduring magic of Nepal on one of these trips to the Annapurna region.

  Sea kayaking Doubtful Sound, Fiordland National Park, New Zealand.

Sea Kayaking Doubtful Sound in New Zealand’s Fiordland

Doubtful Sound, a remote, roughly 30-mile-long fjord in Fiordland National Park, awes you with its scale. For two days, we paddled sea kayaks below cliffs up to 4,000 feet tall plunging straight into the sea, and so thick with rainforest that you rarely see the rock. The cliffs display lighter-green streaks of newer vegetation growing in the wake of a “tree avalanche,” which occurs when root systems can no longer bear the weight of the forest sprouting from a cliff. Native crested penguins nest on a small, densely forested island in the fjord. The often mirror-flat sea reflects soaring cliffs choked in jungle. And unlike Milford Sound, reaching Doubtful Sound entails complicated logistics or a long journey by boat—meaning relatively few people see it.

See my story “Into the Mystic: Sea Kayaking Doubtful Sounds in New Zealand’s Fiordland National Park.”

  I’ve learned a few things from traveling all over the world. See my “10 Tips For Doing Adventure Travel Right.”

  Backpacking the Rockwall Trail in Kootenay National Park, Canada.

Backpacking the Rockwall Trail in the Canadian Rockies

Within the first few hours of our four-day family backpacking trip on the 34-mile (55k) Rockwall Trail in Kootenay National Park, we stared up at what looked like a pair of El Capitans standing shoulder to shoulder, then saw one of the tallest waterfalls in the Rocky Mountains, Helmet Falls, which drops 1,154 feet (352m). But that was a mere sampler of what was to follow. Backpackers on the Rockwall follow the base of a nearly unbroken, 18-mile-long (30k) limestone escarpment in Kootenay’s Vermilion Range, plastered with glaciers and towering as much as 3,000 feet (900m) above the trail. It’s no exaggeration to liken it to dozens of the tallest cliff in Yosemite Valley, El Capitan, lined up in a row stretching for miles.

See my story “Best of the Canadian Rockies: Backpacking the Rockwall Trail.”

  Get the right pack for you. See my picks for “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs” and 7 favorite daypacks.

  Whanganui River, North Island, New Zealand.

Canoeing New Zealand’s Stunning Whanganui River

It’s not hard to imagine why the native Maori people of New Zealand believe that the Whanganui River possesses a mauri, or “life force.” Paddling a canoe on its gentle waters, you descend a gorge of 200-foot-tall sandstone and mudstone cliffs draped with jungle-like foliage and cut by ribbon waterfalls. Cicadas buzz almost deafeningly. The 54-mile-long stretch of the Whanganui from Whakahoro to Pipiriki, mostly within Whanganui National Park, hits a rare trifecta: unusual natural beauty, fascinating human history, and easy enough for people with basic paddling skills, including families. The Whanganui River Journey is the only water-based trip listed among New Zealand’s vaunted Great Walks. It’s considered so special that in 2012 it became the first river in the world granted the same rights as a citizen.

See my story “River of Many Stories: Canoeing New Zealand’s Stunning Whanganui.”

  Protect your expensive gear when traveling. See my “Review: The Best Gear Duffles and Luggage.”

  Trekking past castle ruins in Spain’s Aitana Mountains.

Adventuring in Spain’s Aitana Mountains

Rising above Spain’s central east coast in the province of Valencia, a chronically sunny mountain range of soaring limestone cliffs and razorback ridges sits within sight of tourist-flooded Mediterranean beaches—but remains so obscure that the peaks lack a unifying name, and are known only informally as the Aitana Mountains, for the area’s highest summit. Over the course of two weeks there, I took a 60-mile trek from village to village, mountain biked to a hidden castle, scaled a via ferrata up an 800-foot cliff, and scrambled along a wildly exposed, knife-edge ridge that Euro climbers compare to the headiest traverses in Scotland’s Highlands. And in good Old World style, I feasted every evening on Spanish delicacies, washing it all down with enough vino to float a Spanish galleon.

See my story “Conquistadors of Adventure: Discovering Multi-Sport Gold in Spain’s Valencia Region.”

  Trekking the Dusky Track, Fiordland National Park, New Zealand.

Taking on New Zealand’s Hardest Hut Trek: The Dusky Track

When a friend and I set out to hike a four-day, 23-mile section of Fiordland’s 53-mile Dusky Track, we were primarily motivated and intrigued by its reputation as the hardest hut-to-hut trek in New Zealand. But we saw beyond that superficial description to the promise implicit in it: the chance to see New Zealand’s biggest wilderness the way it must have looked centuries ago. Compared to popular tracks, the Dusky can feel all but deserted—which means having its glacier-carved valleys and mountain passes with panoramas of rainforest-shrouded mountains almost all to ourselves. It also turned into quite possibly the hardest hike, step for step, that either of us has ever done.

Watch for my upcoming feature story about backpacking New Zealand’s Dusky Track.

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  See all of my stories about international adventures and family adventures at The Big Outside.

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[anneedmonds]

Life Update: What Have I Done?

I’ve had a slightly longer break from work than anticipated; but don’t worry, there’s nothing sinister afoot. I’m not ill, the dog didn’t die, I’ve not had a drastic facelift that meant I needed to hide behind bandages for a month. I was just absolutely shattered before Christmas and then the school holidays (aka “the great relentless abyss of no childcare”) completely finished me off.

I won’t harp on about Christmas not being a holiday – you can read this post from the same time last year and just update the kids’ ages – but it’s safe to say that having a four and two year old is as much work (possibly more) than having a three and a one year old. At least toddlers (generally) haven’t discovered eye-rolling and chat-back. At least toddlers are vaguely amused by wrapping paper, empty boxes and the jangly bell from a Lindt bunny tied to the end of a piece of ribbon. Fast-forward a year and the children now want painting games on the iPad and festive biscuit-decorating sessions.

Anyway, to cut a long and fairly pedestrian story short, I decided to take a few casual days off when school started back last week so that I actually had more than twenty seconds to myself. It was great. On the first of the two child-free days (there were four school days in total but Ted only goes to nursery part time) I stayed in bed looking for second hand velvet sofas on eBay and browsing for vintage rugs on Vinterior. On the second child-free day, which – alas – wasn’t consecutive – I went to Bath in the morning with Mr AMR, had some lunch and then sorted out the shoes and boots in the utility room. Bliss.

So that covers the two days last week when I actually had some proper time off: what of the rest of the “holiday”? What an earth have I been up to, seeing as though I’ve been on a self-imposed social media ban which theoretically should free up about nine hours a day? Here’s a run-down: brace positions, people, it’s a wild ride.

I learnt how to use the scanner thing at Sainsbury’s. Have you used these supermarket handheld beepy scanner things? I’m not talking about the self checkout tills, which are so useless and stress-inducing they make me want to chew off my own feet, I’m referring to the handsets that you pick up at the start of your shop and take around with you, zapping barcodes as you go, so that at the end of your shop you can just pay and go.

No unloading the trolley at the till only to pack it up again and then unload it into the boot of your car.  (Sounds such a ridiculous waste of time when you write it down.) No watching helplessly as your bottle of Malbec slowly rolls along the conveyor belt, straight off the end and then smashes on the floor. No performance anxiety as you try to pack your bags in front of the people waiting in the queue behind you – the pressure as you feel them judging your packing speed and dexterity! The shame as you fumble to retrieve your bag-for-life from the floor! The panic as a loose lime you’ve reached for rolls away, escaping your grasp. You can feel your audience’s eyes trained upon you – they wince as you pack heavy potatoes on top of squishy cherry tomatoes, they breathe an audible sigh of relief when you realise that the milk is leaking and ask if someone could possibly get you another.

“JANET! JANET! Six litres of full fat on checkout nine! The woman’s got a leaky one!”

None of that when you use the handheld scanner. Utter genius, it is. Although I have to say, don’t let your kids mess about with it. I almost paid for eight giant boxes of dishwasher tablets and a “Pressure King” pressure cooker.

I saved over £290 on curtain tie-backs. Yes, you heard me – £290! The one from Samuel & Sons that matched my tasselled curtain (photo above) would have been £300 inc VAT and I managed to get an (admittedly much plainer) version without the tassel but with all the same tying-back abilities in the Laura Ashley sale. Eight quid! The fact that it took me around ninety-five man hours to research alternative tie-backs is by the by. I’m pretty sure my labour costs were more than the original tie-back…

I made Yorkshire Puddings properly for the first time and they were immense. Quite literally. I put a bit too much batter into each tin and they rose to just about fill the top oven. I think one of them was almost ten inches tall. Who cares, though – more is more when it comes to Yorkshire Puddings, surely? It’s the only part of a roast dinner I’m actually bothered about. Next year at Christmas I might just make myself a giant Yorkshire and fill it with gravy. Bit of al dente broccoli. Scrap of turkey and a dollop of cranberry and I’m done.

I took the stair gate off and now Mr Bear the cat is an omnipresent menace. Honestly, life was easier when he was confined to the ground floor. Now that he has free run of the house he sneaks up on you when you’re in the shower, jumps onto your back when you’re sitting on the loo and pounces on the kids’ feet in bed. He’s having an absolute whale of a time. Although I caught him pointing his claws in the direction of my velvet upholstered Soho Home bed the other day and so the gate might have to be resurrected. It’s been so nice without it though – just walking down the stairs, freely, without having to wrestle with the lock and then risk breaking my neck tripping over the frame. We could have taken it down about a year ago if it wasn’t for the cat and his penchant for creeping about the place and using furniture to sharpen his nails…

I did a self-imposed social media ban. Which I’ve already mentioned, but it’s worth saying again: I didn’t look at any social media from the 21st of December until the other day. Amazingly, my screen time didn’t go down, but that’s because I used all of the social media time trawling the internet for furniture bargains. I reckon if you squished all of the time together, I spent a full day and night searching for stuff on Vinterior – the scrolling started to make me feel seasick! (By the way, if you want to get £50 off your first order with them use RUTH CRILLY in the code box. This isn’t a special affiliate setup – anyone who orders with them can get a code.)

Why the social media ban? I just wanted a quiet and relaxing Christmas (HA!) and to properly stop thinking about work for a couple of weeks. The thing is that I have a perpetual internal monologue as I go about my day – I almost narrate my own existence – and because of this I’m always tempted to write down every thought that I’ve had, or record every action. Quite often little things I’ve done can form the basis for a post here on A Model Recommends, or I’ll jot down a thought that will then become a bigger idea which then requires a longer sit-down with pen and paper to elaborate, and unless I absolutely switch off, one hundred percent, the temptation is always there to quickly write a caption or draft a blog post.

So I moved all of my social media apps to a different page of the iPhone menu so that they weren’t staring me in the face when I opened my phone and then I just sort of forgot about them. I can highly recommend it, at least every once in a while. I actually think I have an OK relationship with social media – I’m definitely not addicted and can easily detach myself – but still. A digital cleanse felt pretty good!

Now I’m finding it quite hard to get back to work, however – I’m dragging myself very slowly into 2020, like a giant, jumper-wearing slug. I have been setting myself absurdly basic tasks so that my brain doesn’t go into shock;

email the sofa-fixing man about fixing the sofa, ask him to fix the sofa and how much it would be to fix the sofa. Can he even fix the sofa?

How are you finding the New Year? Did you set any resolutions or do you have a masterplan for 2020? Mine is to try and be more organised with work so that I don’t feel so stressed – plan my content and commitments in advance so that I know what I need to get done, rather than just fitting in tasks at the last minute or late at night. 2020 is the year of the new, streamlined me!

The post Life Update: What Have I Done? appeared first on A Model Recommends.

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[tripstations]

Episode 2: Top five Paris must-dos

Bonjour, fellow travelers! Finding Alexx here. On my quest to visit 52 countries in 52 weeks based on the cheapest flight every Tuesday, my first stop took me to the City of Lights – Paris.

From bread and cheese all day every day, to sparkling monuments around almost every corner, it’s just one of those cities that is impressive in every way. Here are my tips and tricks for what to eat, what to see and how to get around –  and how to do it on a backpacker budget if you have to.

The Eiffel Tower

Let’s start with the obvious, the Eiffel Tower! This iconic metal triangle was actually hated by Parisians when it was first opened back in 1889 but has since become one of the most famous buildings in the world. Going up to the top with the lift will set you back €25.50, and you might be waiting a while for your turn, but you’ll be rewarded with a beautiful view of the Champs de Mars and Trocadero on the other side of the Seine.

If you’re really tight for money and don’t want to pay to go up, there are plenty of stunning viewpoints to get a glimpse (and a great shot) of the tower. Visit Trocadero to get a straight-on view from right across the river. Have a picnic dinner in the Champs de Mars and see the tower sparkle every hour from sunset, or take the perfect Instagram shot from Pont Alexandre III or Pont de Bir-Hakeim bridge with the Eiffel Tower in the background.

Take a history or art lesson

Culture, art or history buffs will LOVE this city, with museums and galleries of all different types dotted around the city. Say bonjour to the Mona Lisa and thousands of other works of art at the Louvre, dive into Europe’s largest collection of modern art at Le Centre Pompidou, visit Musée des Arts et Métiers to wander around exquisite buildings filled with scientific treasures, or head to Musée Picasso to see some masterpieces from Picasso himself as well as his fellow artists.

Looking for something a bit more obscure? Be sure to check out the Catacombs, a 3000km network of tunnels running under the city, home to the bones of over 6 million Parisians. In the 1700s the city’s cemeteries were getting full, so a bit of ingenuity kicked off the movement from graves to the tunnels underground. Insane? Yes. Incredible to see? Also yes. Not for the faint-hearted, for obvious reasons!

Shop up a storm

Whether you’re into fancy designers, chic boutiques or vintage threads, Paris is guaranteed to satisfy any shopaholic’s needs… But maybe at the detriment of their wallet! If you’re looking to treat yourself to a special purchase you’ll need to check out the Faubourg Saint-Honoré district, you can find flagship stores of all different brands and budgets down the Champs-Elysées, and Le Marais neighborhood is home to some of the trendiest boutiques around.

If your budget doesn’t stretch past window shopping then I’d still recommend paying a visit to the gigantic Galeries Lafayette flagship department store on Boulevard Hausmann in the 9th arrondissement, just to see the exquisite stained-glass dome ceiling. It’s absolutely stunning!

A cabaret show

I haven’t been to Moulin Rouge so I can’t speak for that one specifically, but I can say that it was way out of my budget (at least €100 per person not including food or drink). This was a shame because I was super keen to see one of Paris’ famous cabaret shows!

Then a friend of mine told me about La Nouvelle Eve, a smaller cabaret just down the road from the Moulin Rouge with fantastic reviews and much lower prices. We paid €59 each which included half a bottle of champagne too, plus the venue was smaller and less people than the ‘main’ shows so it felt a lot more intimate. There were the usual cabaret dancers plus some acrobats and other performers, and some hilarious audience participation. If you’re looking for a cabaret show on a budget, La Nouvelle Eve should be on your list!

Seine

The lifeline of Paris is the River Seine, which snakes its way through the middle of the city, separating the Right Bank from the Left Bank. The river brings some calmness to the craziness of the capital, and its banks are hang out spots for locals throughout summer, spring and autumn.

Take a wander along the river banks, grab a drink at one of the many riverside bars, or hop on a Bateaux Parisiens (that’s what the river boats are called) and cruise past all the major landmarks. If you can afford an evening cruise then that’d be even better, as most of the city’s main monuments light up after dark.

Neighborhoods

Paris is made up of 20 different arrondisements, numbered from 1 to 20, which are administritave districts (kind of like boroughs). Then there’s suburbs within the arrondissements. Slightly confusing! Here are some of my favorite Paris suburbs.

Latin Quarter

Located right by the river on the Left Bank, the Latin Quarter is a youthful suburb packed with loads of cheap eats. The Latin Quarter is home to restaurants of all different ethnicities, and most of them offer fixed price menus that will give you a two or three course meal from only €10, sometimes even including the drink. That’s a win! I’d recommend Mobster Diner for a casual dinner, Chez le Libanais for a takeaway shawarma, or L’Époque for classic French fare, and you can’t miss the panini, crepe and soft drink deal for €5 at Crêperie Genia.

There are plenty of delicious eateries that fit a backpacker budget in this part of town, so I’d suggest heading there for lunch to wander the streets and find a menu that tickles your fancy.

Champs-Elysées

More of a main road than a neighborhood, this stretch in the central city is 1.2 miles long and leads from the Place de la Concorde all the way to the Arc de Triomphe. It’s the most touristy part of the city for sure but the wide footpaths make it not too difficult to get around, despite the thousands of shoppers and visitors. You can shop ‘til you drop, refuel with a sugar hit with macarons from Ladurée or Pierre Hermé, then wrap up your day with a walk up to the top of the Arc de Triomphe for a gorgeous view over the city.

Montmartre

This hillside neighborhood has got to be one of the most arty places in Paris, with local sketchers and painters lining the side streets surrounding the beautiful Sacré-Coeur sitting on top of the hill. Pick up a piece for your wall, opt to sit for a caricature if you’ve got the time and funds, or simply wander around admiring the artists’ skills.

Visiting the Sacré-Coeur is free and it’s open from 6am. It’s a fantastic place to go for sunset too, with an unmissable view of the sprawling city and loads of spots for a picnic dinner. Be sure to stop into Crêperie Brocéliande for a Nutella and banana crepe for dessert!

Le Marais

Hands down the trendiest suburb in the city, Le Marais is home to the most stylish boutiques, cafés, bars, restaurants, hotels and even offices! This place is best discovered by strolling the streets with no particular end point in mind, and I guarantee you’ll stumble across something special. It’s also the heart of Paris’ LGBT scene, with rainbow installations scattered throughout the neighborhood during pride month each year.

For a true Parisian experience, dress up in something nice, head to Le Marais in the early evening and grab a patio table and a glass of wine and people watch the night away. Les Philosophes is a local favorite!

How to get around

One of the best things about Paris is that it’s super easy to walk between loads of the key spots, and on the way you’ll definitely come across some gorgeous corner cafés, funky gift shops and ultra-cool boutiques. If you have the time and energy, I’d really suggest challenging yourself to a no-transport day, and see what you discover.

If you’re in a hurry or want to give your feet a break, Paris has a decent public transport system with buses, RER trains and the Metropolitain (underground). You can buy single tickets, packs of ten, or multi-day passes from most train and Metro stations. A single ticket costs €1.90, a pack of ten costs €14.90 and a 5 day pass costs €38.35.

Paris also has loads of bike (JUMP is the main one) and e-scooters (like Lime, Dott and Bird) available for rental, but note that you can only ride in bike lanes or on the road or you could be stung with a €100+ fine.

Taxis can be expensive but there are Ubers available all over the city which are more affordable.

Where to stay

Paris is huge, and with that comes thousands of accommodation choices! The city on a whole is pretty expensive, but there are plenty of hostels that will suit a wallet-friendly budget, as well as some decent cheap hotels.

Generator Paris is one of my faves, right across the road from Colonel Fabien Metro station which means easy transport into the central city. They’ve got modern, functional hostel rooms plus a sweet rooftop bar with views of the Sacré-Coeur. They don’t have a kitchen though and you can’t take food or drink into the hostel, which means you’ve got to spend money on meals out or at the hostel bar.

St Christopher’s also has two hostels in Paris, I stayed at the one next to Gare du Nord (a major train station and the arrival point for the Eurostar) and there’s another one next to St Martin’s Canal, a quieter, more residential area.

The Gare du Nord hostel was an ideal location for me as I was catching a train to Beauvais airport, but the area around the train station was kind of seedy and I didn’t feel particularly safe walking around by myself at night. If you’re in a group or pair, if you’re a guy, or if you’re only planning on going out during the day then this spot is probably fine, but for solo female travelers who might be out and about after the sun’s gone down then it’s not ideal.

How much to budget for Paris

My week in Paris was the first week of a year-long trip, and I blew through my budget more than I should have. If you stay at a hostel with a full kitchen and cook your own meals then it’s definitely doable on a budget, but unfortunately for me (and my bank account) I just LOVE French food and want to eat at all the best cafés and restaurants!

Hostels will set you back anywhere from €15 to €30 for a dorm bed depending on the time of year you go, and cheap hotels will start at around €60 per room (but that’s truly no frills and probably no breakfast included).

Breakfast at a café will be between €5 for a coffee, juice and croissant through to €14-ish for a full cooked breakfast in the fancier parts of the city, and a sit down dinner is likely to cost at least €15 unless you get a fixed price menu in the Latin Quarter.

Picnics are a great choice for Paris on a budget, and you can get bread, cheese and deli meats as well as a bottle of wine to share for between €10 and €15.

Expect to spend around €4-6 per day on transport if you’re taking two or three trips, and you’ll need to budget extra if you’re planning on visiting museums and galleries.

Some extra tips for your Paris trip

If you ever have the chance to visit Paris for Bastille Day, you HAVE to go. The fireworks are the most incredible display I’ve ever seen! They start at 11.30pm and go for half an hour, and they’re set to an epic soundtrack too. You can see them from any high vantage point in the city but I recommend getting a spot in the Champs de Mars (the park right under the Eiffel Tower) for free. The gates this year opened at 4pm and there’s a security check, but if you get there early you’ll be sure to get a decent spot pretty quickly. You can bring food and drink but no glass bottles, so pour your wine into a Dopper bottle, an eco-friendly drink bottle that comes with a makeshift wine cup! Paris has some of the best parks in Europe, so if you need a break from sightseeing during the day then you probably won’t be far from somewhere to rest your legs. Jardin du Luxembourg is on the Left bank and is home to a stunning palace and gardens, definitely one of my favorites. To get photos away from the masses you’ll probably need to wake up early, I was there in summer and took all my photos at the key tourist spots between 6am and 8am. Some of my favorite photo spots in the city are Pigalle basketball court, the columns at Palais Royal, and the view of the Eiffel Tower from Pont Alexandre III. If you want to explore outside of Paris for the day, consider a day trip to the Palace of Versailles, Monet’s Garden in Giverny, or the castles in the Loire Valley You’re never too old for roller coasters! If you’re keen to visit Disneyland Paris I’d suggest trying to visit on a weekday outside of school holidays, for obvious reasons.

And after all that, now I want to go back! I hope this Paris travel guide has helped you plan your upcoming trip, and if you’re keen to follow all my adventures over the next year you can see.

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Takhuk

October 23, 2018

Michele Moore Veldhoen

Raven Feathers, Raki, and Risk

An Anecdotal Travelogue in 3 Parts Part 2 Rocks and Raki

The raven feather I wrote of in last week’s blog did, as the Beefeater proclaimed, bring me luck. For the two weeks we spent on Crete, Greece’s largest island, the sun shone, the air was calm, and not once did a goat or crazy Cretan driver force us over one of the many cliffs along which we drove. Which is entirely possible in the hills and mountains of Crete, I can assure you.

I loved Crete. Punctured with caves and strewn with archaeological sites where Greek Gods such as Zeus and Europa were born and their son King Minos reigned, ancient myth and mystery is present in every stone, street, and building. Crete is considered the birthplace of western civilization itself, so on that score the island stands alone as a place to visit if you are a history buff.  

There is so much to say about Crete. I could write of the fantastic gorges (canyons) we hiked, the thousands of goats that kept us company, the omnipresent olive groves, the pretty pomegranate, lime and lemon trees growing out of cobblestone streets and shading freshly painted wooden doors, the wild and cultivated herbs that scent the air, the pristine beaches and waters of the south coast, and oh, the cheese! I give the Cretans first place on cheese, but I will stop there or this blog will become too cheesy….hehehe Instead, let me tell you about the rocks and the raki.

Rocks

Crete is an island of stone. Rock and rubble. Since I love anything to do with stone, landscapes dominated by rubble and rock appeal to me. But when you picture the island, don’t imagine our Rocky Mountains or the stone slabs of the Canadian Shield. Imagine mountains and hills of crumbling rock. Bare mountains of, bare, crumbling rock. Most of which to me looks really, really, old. As are the castles, forts, and churches, also made of stone. Occupied and abandoned stone villages and structures are all around, and sometimes blend so well into the rocky hill or mountain upon which they stand you can walk past or even over them without always realizing they are there, but still, you will be surrounded by fields of weather beaten, time worn, sun bleached, stones.

(Side note:  Crete was not always such a bare rock pile, and it does still have pockets of natural pine and cyprus forest. A bit of research tells me that for centuries the island has suffered deforestation. Trees were cut for firewood, and swathes of forest were removed by occupying cultures that used the wood for shipbuilding, for example. The island is devoid of significant populations of wild animals and this I think would be due to loss of habitat, and hunting. Herds of domestic goats now dominate the terrain and eat everything in sight, so very hard to re-establish the forests).

Yet this rocky landscape supports the production of an abundant array of delicious food. Much of which is grown by small producers and families who work with hand tools and basic machinery their olive and orange groves, their potato and eggplant fields, and also their grapevines which grow so easily they can be found casually planted along sidewalks where you can help yourself as you go by.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this anecdote about rocks but the picture of the stony Cretan landscape dominates my mind. We stayed in old traditional villages built with rock and in the case of Kritsa, right into the rock of a mountain, slept in homes built of stone, explored these villages walking on stone street by cobblestone street, climbed and wandered through stony canyons, along ancient donkey tracks built of stone, up mountains of rusty rock spread over chunks of brilliant marble, across pebbly beaches and fine ground sand. There was a lot of rock featured in this trip. You could say we rolled through rocks. We rocked and rolled.

Stone speaks to us, if we listen. The next time you’re on a beach, notice how your feet feel in the sand. The next time you put on your makeup, realize the minerals in the makeup come from stone. (Likely the same kind of stone from which Cleopatra got her makeup minerals.) When you are running a cloth over your granite counter top, wonder at which mountain in the world gifted to you that slab of art. Look at the diamonds or other jewels in your wedding ring. Now doesn’t that rock speak to you!

Stone is speaking to us every day because it is the earth itself. Earth gives us an array of gifts in stone that, in the words of Van Morrison, stones me to my soul.

Raki

Raki is Crete’s white lightning. Made from the skins, stems and seeds of wine grapes, every family, village, and taverna seems to have their own supply. Like any other raw distilled liquor it requires fortitude to consume.  

Raki can be flavoured with a variety of herbs such as aniseed, but in Crete they seem to like it straight. It is standard in the tavernas to receive after your meal some complimentary raki as an aperitif. Served  chilled in a small clear glass bottle along with shot glasses and some kind of sweet. The quantity of raki in the bottle is enough for two people to each have at least 5 shots. Rogerio and I left a lot of raki in the bottle.

When you walk around a village on the island, you will frequently see in front of tavernas a scene similar to the photo above –  for decoration small tables are positioned at the entrance to the taverna,  displaying a generous bowl of oranges, and a pretty glass bottle of raki. (The string of beads in this picture are‘worry beads’ which in Greek culture is a secular object used for relaxation. According to Wikipedia, they can also be a status symbol – expensive strings of amber and other valuable stones. (There’s those rocks again.)This might explain the long elaborate string hanging around the neck of a black robed priest I saw in a delegation of VIP’s accompanying the President of Greece to lunch in a taverna in a village we were visiting. The President was there to commemorate a WW II hero and it seemed every man in the village who owned a suit, along with at least half a dozen Greek Orthodox priests were in attendance. The one I studied the most manipulated his beads at the same slow and deliberate pace at which he walked, separating himself, I noted, somewhat from the rest of the entourage.  With his head at a slight upward tilt and his lips tightly drawn, he appeared to investigate the scene around him in a way that made me feel he was either making some private calculations in his mind or was a most arrogant man.)

Now that was a rather long digression but it does relate to raki because the priests also drink the stuff. In one village where we ate dinner at the same taverna every night for almost a week, we observed the local priest every evening gathered with a few locals that always sat at the same out of the way table, drinking raki, smoking, and talking. Such is the pervasiveness of raki.

On another evening in another village in which we stayed for a week, we were walking back from dinner when we were offered raki by a family celebrating a birthday. These old traditional villages are made for social connections. Like a rabbit warren, the homes are all part of one structure, and the doors to each home open right onto the narrow cobblestone passageways through which everyone travels on foot. To sit outdoors, people tuck into chairs set along the walls of the buildings, or gather in a lovely intimate corner or cubbyhole under a giant fig or cyprus tree. Even the most unsociable, solitary soul would have a hard time not saying ‘yassas’ when passing by, and once you greet someone, they always greet you back and if a party is going on, offer you raki and invite you to join them.

So where am I going with this anecdote?

Well, we’ve all heard of the Mediterranean diet. Lots of vegetables, fruits, legumes, whole grains, nuts and seeds and olive oil, and moderate quantities of meat and dairy. For years we have been reading about the health benefits of this kind of diet, which is definitely enjoyed by the people of Crete. But nothing is ever said about the raki!

I have a theory about this. I believe the ever present raki is not there to be consumed in great quantities on a regular basis, (although this certainly happens according to one village woman who, after a long day of work in a bakery, was minding the family store because her husband was at the taverna drinking raki instead of doing his job. Again.) I think the raki is there to make regularly available the opportunity for social connection. Alcohol is a social lubricant. Raki is very strong alcohol, it doesn’t take much to feel warm and cozy sitting on a stone bench next to people you’ve just met.

Many people we met in Crete that are eating the traditional Mediterranean diet not only eat well, but live well, by which I mean, they are socially connected. The physical layout of these villages are designed for close connection. They are also designed for walking. Cretan villagers walk everywhere, and exercise is the third pillar of the triangle of good living – diet, exercise, and social connections.

I know this is very idyllic and as my son-in-law recently pointed out, these same countries that support this lifestyle are also struggling with severe economic problems. However, that observation can say as much about their leadership, and the western economic model their leaders have tried to participate in, as it can about the country’s economics.

In any case, I don’t think I could give up a cold craft brew for a cold shot of raki. But I’m grateful to those Canadians with a Mediterranean heritage who introduced us to olive oil, and eggplant baked with tomatoes, zucchini and potatoes topped with soft creamy cheese, and Greek yogourt topped with honey, and greens sautéed with garlic, and…..oh, that’s right, I said this blog was not going to be about food.