#but. i do see the practicality of a hatchback in times like these

[six-of-ravens]

I packed my backpack and all my clothes actually fit in my bag and that's making me extremely suspicious

[t-top-apologist]

As I climbed out of my bunker 20 years after the impending presidential victory of one Ralph Nader and the imminent opening of FEMA camps for corvair owners, I was surprised by three things: Firstly, Nader hadn't won and by some fluke that Ivy League texan boy had taken the presidency, using his newfound power to knock down those ugly towers in New York. Secondly, everyone around me was real worried about sneezing, and thirdly: people were mad about the police again. Well, that really wasn't a surprise as much as the fact that they had started forecasting a beautiful future in which there were no cops to pull me over for unleashing the full power of the GM flat six on public roadways like some sort of twisted star spangled Rat-Fink porsche ripoff taking high speed turns without even a hint of flipping over (you hear that Ralph?). Well, no flipping over other than for the normal reasons.

Those same people did end up calling the local constabulary on me as strange lights flickered on in the abandoned house next door and a dark figure began unearthing the many covairs he'd buried two decades ago in the back yard, but that's not the point. The real takeaway from this is that there exists the cultural impetus to create a future in which I do not receive speeding tickets for acceleration above the arbitrary number marked on the school zone sign (efforts by a tyrannical government to shield children from the truth of superior acceleration in rear engined cars).

The doughnut patrol eventually showed up, and did so in a veritable tank of a machine: the Ford Explorer, now optimized for plowing through crowds. This is that militarization of police everyone was talking about. They've ditched the hardworking American sedan in favor of these monstrosities better suited for hunting down and destroying anything rear engine, air cooled. This is why Porsche switched to watercooling in the 911, I just know it.

While the badged imbecile droned at me about my IDs expiring in 2003, I began to zone out, imagining what a properly modern police vehicle for the new decade should look like. None of this Humvee nonsense (though I'm pleased to see they never stopped making them), this would be a practical machine for the hypothetical "good" law enforcement officer not hell bent on stopping my corvair excavations.

Though a euro-styled wagon is an easy answer for police duty cars, there comes a time when we must acknowledge that those are mainly built for apprehending pocketknife-wielding arms dealers and have very little of the built in ego and power complexes required by State Police officers who protect their communities by hassling me about the legality of my high speed "shakedown runs" and the subsequent exhaust parts left scattered on the local highway.

No, what the American policeman needs is something that can tackle roads in any condition, with plenty of storage space for bulk orders of constitutional violations (and the remains of my exhaust), and a reliable powerplant that balances fuel efficiency and the desire to go fast sometimes (Idle in mall parking lots a lot). The answer is an all-wheel drive mid-sized hatchback with enough space to house my rear bumper once that comes off too. Which is to say the cops need an American OEM Impreza Hatchback.

Of course the closest American equivalent I could think of in a pinch was the Ford Pinto, which seemed to put him off. The ensuing chase was brief but not necessarily fast. Turns out the militarization of police extended to vests that don't protect you from sudden drops, but didn't extend so far as to cover standard issue night vision that would've detected the deep holes I'd been digging. Probably a good thing I buried those Corvairs so deep.

[maxlarens]

Okay, so frat!Logan has a big muscle truck. What does Oscar have? I feel like Oscar has something practical like a Subaru hatchback. Or maybe he just bikes everywhere using rental bike (a la that one video). Lando definitely has a convertible of some type. Also reader is learning to drive with Loscar and she’s driven both of their cars and she definitely prefers Oscar’s car. And once reader passes her driver’s test, they definitely get her something cute like a Volkswagen Beetle (extra points if it’s in baby pink or sky blue).

oh so see. i want him to have a bike. he definitely has a bike that he uses 90% of the time. if he has to have a car then i think he definitely just has some shitbox, like some secondhand thing that rusts in the carpark. like logan and lando drive him everywhere. and yes lando absolutely definitely has a convertible 😭 thats so him!!

oo yes i think logan probably does the bulk of teaching reader but she asks oscar sometimes because oscar’s better at explaining things and logan’s too nice to always tell her what she’s doing wrong.

[scintillasofbeomgyu]

➷ darl+ing | c.yj

pairing: choi yeonjun x reader. genre(s): fluff. wc: tbd. warnings: none. that i know of. an: i feel like it’s so easy to write and read yeonjun into these situations; he’s the epitome of a sweet bf.

in which your best friend takes you to the beach on his first off day in a while

“ta-da!” yeonjun excitedly presents, pulling up the handbrake before popping the boot of your rented hatchback.

as he heads to the back of the car, you look up at the cloudless blue sky unfurling above you and regard the meagre waves lapping at the shoreline with disdain.

“the beach. yay.”

you hate the beach. you hated alot of things, but the beach fell atleast into your top three. it was always either unnecessarily hot, or unnecessarily windy — God forbid if it was both. you could throw on a space suit and, while it would keep the wind and oxygen out, by the time you got home and removed it, there’d still be grains of sand stuck in all your crevices.

the beach, as an idea, was great. in reality, it was just plain absurd.

“come on, (y/n)!” yeonjun swings your door open, practically vibrating with enthusiasm like a gigantic golden retriever. a medium-sized picnic basket is slung over his shoulder and a blanket and towels are sitting in his arm. his eyes sparkle in the midday light.

reluctantly, you take his hand. once he locks the car, he’s racing with you through the opening between two sand dunes, kicking up sand everywhere. you grimace.

he drops his things on the section just before the sand becomes wet and concrete, and stops before the cold pacific waters can soak into your sneakers. he lifts up his arms, with your hand still in tow, and lets the ocean breeze caress his face and brush through the strands of his golden hair. he takes a deep breath and finally lets go of your hand, shoving his into the pocket of his shorts.

he turns to you with a smile. “isn’t this refreshing? do you feel refreshed? ah, i love the beach.”

your heart swells. you’re sure you’ve mentioned to him before that you detest the beach; after all, you’ve been friends since junior year in high school. you’re also pretty sure you know he must’ve forgotten that the beach is everything but refreshing to you.

but seeing how happy he is, knowing how much he wanted to spend time with you on his short break from the world of practice rooms, flashing cameras and tv personas, its enough to make you want to come here again, and again, and again.

the waves pull back into the ocean before crashing back onto the shore once more and he lets out another contented sigh, his silver piercings gleaming under the sunlight.

you fish your cellphone from your tote bag.

“psst, yeonjun.”

snap. snap. snap.

“hey!” he chuckles, jogging around you to take a look. you tilt the device toward him so he can get a better look. he peers over your shoulder, and a soft smile tugs on his lips. your face breaks out into a satisfied grin, tummy doing flips.

“send them to me. i want to post them.”

your heart drops. you don’t want him to. yeonjun belonged to the public. they saw him more often than you did, knew what he was doing when you didn’t, and were there when he discovered new aspects himself when you weren’t.

they already had all of him. you wanted this moment, just this one, where he was truly happy, truly yeonjun, to be yours and yours alone.

you whirl around, tucking your phone into your back pocket. “no.” he looks as if he’s about to protest, because he thinks you’re joking, you presume, so you say quickly, without much thinking, “this yeonjun is mine.”

he looks stunned, eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape. if you’re honest, you in a quite little bit of disbelief yourself. so you both stand there, with burning faces while the wind whips hair around your faces.

he contemplates carefully, swallows. his eyes flit between the ground and your face. and, you’re unsure, but you almost think they glance at your lips for a millisecond too.

the next thing you know, icy water grates against your calves, something slimy rubs against your ankle and you let out a yelp, throwing your arms around yeonjun’s neck. but he’s startled too and stumbles backward, sending you both into the salty waters.

you’re both soaking wet, coughing hysterically. hair sticks to your face and you can taste the water in your mouth. you feel sand in your pants and wetness sloshing around in your shoes, the feeling of wet clothes making you cringe.

you and yeonjun are laying side by side, his arm keeping you close. you shove his chest. “fuck, yeonjun! there’s fucking sand in my butt-crack!” you fume.

he looks at you apologetically, but in no time you both burst out laughing. he uses his free hand to push the matted hair from your face and leaves his hand in the nape of your neck.

you’re still overtaken with laughter, but now he’s watching you. watching you with a glimmer in his eyes and a warmth in his chest. he has missed you. more than you’ll probably ever know.

he leans over and pecks your nose. “i adore you.”

you flush, his gaze heavy on you.

and then realisation strikes.

“my phone! the pictures! oh shit shit shit!” you cry, pushing yourself up to grab your phone from your back pocket.

but then he pulls you back down to him, and if water gets into his face in the process he doesn’t flinch. “don’t worry. you’ll have plenty more where that came from.”

“but,” you start, tears rimming your eyes, “you looked so happy there. so truly happy, and and i—”

“i guarantee,” he breathes, “i am so much happier right now.”

and then he kisses you.

scintillasofbeomgyu © all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, alter, or repost in any way.

[shortpplfedup]

He/They works in tech but nobody understands exactly what they do. Oozes eleganza. Fucks with gender without even trying, they're just vibing. Always has money. Secretly picks up the brunch tab and always refuses repayment. In a long-term on/off relationship with the Manwhore. Discusses it with no one. Cannot cook, but always chooses the best restaurants and sets a Pinterest-worthy table for every dinner party. Is frenemies with the Fashion Twink, calls him 'drama queen' under their breath after air kissing him and complimenting his outfit. Drives a handpainted classic two-door convertible. Carries a pearl handled .22 and will calmly use it.

Manwhore is a national rep for a mid-range alcohol brand. Is only ever trusted to bring the booze to the gathering. Knows where home is but always follows his dick. Is the main reason He/They and the Fashion Twink low key hate each other. If He/They ever left him he would cease to function. Drives a tricked-out Hummer. Carries a chrome-plated Desert Eagle .50, waves it around a lot.

Daddy works in import/export, whatever that means. Is the only one with an actual house, not an apartment. Always chooses the group vaycay destinations. Everybody in the group is in love with him, but he needs somebody to take care of and scold like a child so he only has eyes for the Hustler. Competent at everything. Drives a luxury sedan but keeps a Maserati in the garage that he takes out on weekends. Carries a Glock .45.

Gay Bestie is the group therapist, mediator and matchmaker. Works an office 9-5. Can cook, but prefers to buy groceries, wash dishes, clean the kitchen and make sure everybody is taken care of. Always brings the board games. Holds everybody's secrets. Is closest to the Undercover Freak because he never judges him. Would make a perfect couple with the Church Gay in an 'I love you but I'm not in love with you' lesbian bed death kind of relationship, but is actually terminally single because he's in love with a toxic trainwreck who's not allowed to come to the gatherings because everybody hates him. Drives a cute yet practical and surprisingly roomy hatchback. Carries a Smith & Wesson .38, unloaded.

Undercover Freak is Assistant Manager of the Year 5 years running for a big box electronics store chain. Has an impressive vintage sex toy collection. Is the best driver of the group but rides a bicycle unless requested for U-haul duty. Is the best cook, hands down. Doesn't speak much so when he does speak everybody shuts up. Wants to absolutely defile the Church Gay, and got him into bed exactly twice before Church Gay got weird about it and stopped coming to the gatherings for a year. Has a go-to safe word that he's never used. Has a black belt in 17 different martial arts. Doesn't carry a weapon. Nobody asks too many questions.

Fashion Twink doesn't work, doesn't need to. Has a harem of admirers all-too willing to spend and not interested in what he does when he's not with them. Calls He/They 'attention whore' under his breath but is low key jealous. Size queen. Didn't sleep with Manwhore but lets He/They think he did. Is closest to the Hustler because he's the only 'fun' one. Can cook but everybody hates asking because he always makes a production of it. Suspended licence, won't take cabs, always needs to be picked up and dropped off. Carries a switchblade.

Hustler has 12 jobs but somehow is always free to hang out. Trained line cook. Moves around a lot. Saved the Fashion Twink from fraud and identity theft three times in the past 5 years. Brat in search of a Daddy. Knows EVERYBODY and has connections EVERYWHERE. Has never paid for a drink in his life. Pansexual. Drives a motorcycle that nobody knows how he paid for. Carries a shiv that you can never see where he pulls it from and a set of brass knuckles.

Church Gay lives with his mom and drives her 1997 Honda Accord which he keeps in pristine condition. Can't really cook but somebody complimented his chili to be polite once so now that's his go-to dish. It's under-salted and has too many tomatoes. Everybody takes it home, puts it in the freezer and throws it out 6 months later. Plays the organ. Was too curious about the Undercover Freak and now he can't see a can opener without having a flashback. Is solid, dependable and sweet but does not make anybody's pants move (except the Undercover Freak, who desperately wants him back). Has a baseball bat and a flare gun in the trunk.

Please give it up for co-contributors @bengiyo and @elnotwoods.

[evafrechette]

With A Little Help From My Hyung

↠ yoongi x seokjin | smut | friends to lovers, slow burn | 18+ | 2.4k

↠ Summary: Seokjin is the best roommate Yoongi could have asked for, he’s funny, respectful, a good cook and incredibly handsome. That’s a big problem though - because Yoongi has a constant boner over him.

↠ Warnings: eventual smut, drama queen yoongi, oblivious seokjin, blowjobs, standing sex, yoongi enjoys seokjin carrying him around, anal sex, yoongi is clumsy and hurts himself, which is a great excuse to have seokjin look after him, the other members make a small appearance, my fic usually has a few swear words, hyung kink???

"Hyung, stop it. Leave me alone." Yoongi's deep voice grumbled defiantly.

"Aish, quit being a baby Yoongi-yah, let me help." Seokjin held his hand out to the smaller man who sat on the cold concrete ground below him, food scattered around his aching body, tangerines rolling down the sidewalk.

Yoongi slapped away Seokjin's hand, scowling at his annoying roommate. He got onto his knees and attempted to stand, wincing in pain the moment he put pressure onto his left foot. Only moments before he and Seokjin had left the convenience store, arms full of energy drinks, jelly candy, ramen and tangerines. But Yoongi being Yoongi was busy in his own world and didn't notice the patch of ice on the footpath right in front of him, once his foot touched the slippery ice he slipped and wobbled about, struggling to balance before his legs came out from under him, falling directly onto his ass. Paper bag flying out of his grip, contents spilling onto the sidewalk.

He tried to stand again, taking his time as he clung onto Seokjin's arm, managing to get himself upright, left foot hovering above the ground, but when he placed it firmly against the sidewalk pain shot up his leg and he suddenly felt faint. "Shit, I think it's broken Hyung." He looked up into Seokjin's eyes, refusing to let the tears spill. Yoongi was in pain, a lot of fucking pain but he couldn't let his hyung see him be a cry baby.

"You hit the ground hard but it's probably just a sprain or something, I doubt it's broken. You're a real drama queen Min Yoongi. Can you stand by yourself for a bit?" Yoongi nodded in reply and let go of the elders arm, watching as he carefully rushed around picking up the spilled food and shoved it into his own bag. Seokjin walked back to Yoongi, spinning around so his back faced the man. He crouched down, holding the overfilled paper bag tight against his chest. "Jump on Yoongi-ah, and don't even try it with me. I'm your Hyung you have to listen to me."

Yoongi rolled his eyes but slowly hobbled over to his taller roommate, awkwardly jumping onto his back, arms wrapping around Seokjin's neck, and his short legs around his waist when the older man stood. "I don't have to listen to shit." He mumbled into Seokjin's messy brown hair. Seokjin let out his trademark high pitched laugh as he carried his injured roommate back towards their apartment, "You're so full of it Yoongi."

The walk would usually only take five minutes, but carrying a grown man (who enjoyed complaining every few minutes) had a part in the trip taking close to twenty. Yoongi laid his head on Seokjin's wide shoulders and enjoyed the way his oversized blue shirt smelled of a calming mix of lavender and vanilla bean, he took a mental note to check what brand of washing powder the man used when he got home.

Something about being carried on Seokjin's back made Yoongi's belly flip, he had never felt so small and vulnerable in his life. He was the strong one of their group - the pit bull, small but tough, with an acid tongue that could make a grown man cry. But being carried around by his cute, tall, goofy roommate was actually kind of comforting, it felt nice to snuggle against his broad shoulders.

Yoongi could feel his cheeks heating up, he had been crushing on his video game loving roommate for a few months now. At first the blond thought they were just compatible roommates, respecting each others boundaries and privacy, they quickly became friends bonding over their love of cooking, but along the way Yoongi developed feelings. His eyes lingering on Seokjin longer than what was socially acceptable, sneakily scooching closer to his side on the couch while he watched Seokjin get annihilated playing video games and "accidentally" falling asleep during their movie marathon nights, head resting comfortably against Seokjin's shoulder. But Yoongi knew nothing would come of his little crush so he kept his feelings locked away and instead tried to focus on their good friendship instead.

Seokjin carefully placed Yoongi on the couch, pushing a cushion under his now swollen foot. He rushed off to Yoongi's room and returned with a blanket which he draped over the smaller man. With a happy hum he walked towards the kitchen and Yoongi watched with lovesick eyes as he put away their food shopping. Everytime Seokjin reached up for the top shelf his shirt would raise a little, giving Yoongi a glimpse of the tantalising caramel skin underneath. Yoongi longed to drag his calloused fingertips along that skin, to leave small kisses down Seokjin's spine, along his lower back and down over his firm ass. He sought to taste Seokjin, to feel his cock heavy on his tongue, to feel the burn of his cock stretching him out.

"Hey Yoongi are you okay?" A cool hand placed against his forehead brought Yoongi out of his Seokjin induced daze. His roommate was looking at him with fondness and concern, "Your cheeks are really red but you're not hot or anything. I thought maybe you were coming down with a fever." Yoongi knew he was even redder now, but he allowed himself to relax against the man's hand. He sighed when Seokjin withdrew his hand and moved to sit on the bean bag on the floor. "Yeah, no I'm fine. Just a bit embarrassed about this." Yoongi waved his hand over his ankle.

"Aish, these things happen. Just have to be more careful. And Hyung is here to take care of you okay? Anything you need you let me know. Keep that boney ass of yours on the couch."

The pair spent the rest of the night watching a marathon of Law of the Jungle, empty containers of ramen and Kloud draft beer scattered across the coffee table. Yoongi as usual was unable to keep the snarky comments to himself, "Pfft look at them! Useless. I could survive on that island so much better than any of them." He quipped as a team of celebrities dived into the ocean to try to catch fish with just their hands.

"Errrr Yoongi-yah, did you forget that I had to carry your tiny ass home this evening? Your weak ankles wouldn't last a day on that show." Seokjin doubled over in laughter, clapping his hands loudly as Yoongi rolled his eyes.

"Whatever Jin-hyung," he scoffed, "Like you'd do any better."

"Pretty sure I'd do great on a show like this! You've seen me fishing Yoongi, I'm practically a professional at it now."

Yoongi groaned at this, Seokjin had dragged him out fishing more times than he could even count and he was nowhere near a professional level. The last time they went fishing together Seokjin didn't catch a single fish. He did manage to catch some seaweed and disintegrating plastic bag though.

Yoongi could feel his eyelids getting heavy, and instead of fighting the feeling allowed himself to drift off to sleep, which wasn't hard as sleep was his favourite hobby after all. Yoongi was having a beautiful dream, he was being carried in Seokjin's strong arms as the brunette carried him along the golden hues of a sandy beach, gentle waves breaking along the shore splashing against Seokjin's bare feet. He mirrored Seokjin's smile as his Hyung looked down at him, carrying him bridal style while the breeze whispered sweetly around them both.

"Aish, Yoongi you are a pain in my ass, but you're kinda cute so it's okay I guess." His gummy smile widened at the sweet but slightly insulting words. "What are you smiling about you weirdo." Seokjin let out a small laugh.

Yoongi was confused, why was dream Seokjin insulting him? It took him a few seconds to realise that he was actually awake and that he was no longer asleep on the couch, but rather in the arms of his Hyung. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and let his body go slack against Seokjin's chest, adding a few very realistic soft snores for good measure. Yoongi felt his body fall gently against the cold mattress on his bed, shivering slightly at the loss of heat from Seokjin's warm body. A blanket was dragged up his body, before footsteps retreated out of the room and the door clicking shut quietly.

Yoongi's eyes widened once he was alone in the dark room, had he heard correct? Did Seokjin just call him cute? It took all his self control not to squeal like a teenage girl. He wiggled down the mattress, throwing the blankets over his head and snuggled into his soft pillows. That night Yoongi had the best sleep of his life, with a smile on his face and a hard cock in his pants.

-----

The following weekend Yoongi found himself squished between his friends Jungkook and Hoseok in the back seat of Jimin's tiny Hyundai Pony hatchback. Usher's 'U Remind Me' thumped out of the piss-poor and incredibly outdated sound system, tinny and grating on his ears. His friends, including Taehyung who was sitting in the passenger seat, were singing along at the top of their lungs, he threw his head back and groaned. Why did he get stuck with the loud idiots of their group? Yoongi peered through the windscreen, tall, shapely pine trees lined the dirt road they traveled along. Dust swirled around the car, a curtain of brown blocking the view of the car travelling behind them. The sky was dotted with grey clouds, slowly drifting across the sky hiding the sun, who was trying it's hardest to make an appearance.

The car full of friends pulled into a small gravel parking lot and climbed out of the stuffy vehicle. They watched as the trailing car pulled up beside them, excitedly chatting and joking around now that everyone had finally arrived. Today was Namjoon's choice of activity, one Yoongi was secretly dreading - Hiking. He cast a glance towards Seokjin who was dressed in a pair of black and white track suit pants, sneakers, wide brim bucket hat with drawcord and a fluffy cream jumper. He swallowed hard at the thought of wrapping his arms around Seokjin's waist and resting his head against his fleece covered chest. He looked so snuggly and warm and cute, yeah, really really cute.

Yoongi zoned out while the others planned their trek, his mind too focused on Seokjin's beautiful plush lips, enthralled by how his Hyung randomly pouted while he spoke, his plump bottom lip puffing out before returning back to normal. Yoongi found this habit of Seokjin's incredibly endearing and wondered if the man was even aware of what he was doing. Or at just how crazy it was making Yoongi feel.

"Is everyone okay with the plan?" Namjoon asked, slipping away a map into the front pocket of his jacket. The group all spoke at once, loud and chaotic as usual. "Okay well let's go!"

The group trekked for a few hours, enjoying the challenging course. Up and down steep inclines, weaving through lush forest and snaking between narrow boulders that sat unsteadily on either side of their path. They eventually came across a small stream that separated the gravel path, Yoongi looked down at his feet and whined. "Do we have to go through that? I'm wearing brand new shoes." His nose scrunched as he caught sight of the shallow murky water he knew he would have to trudge through.

"Why would you wear new shoes on a hike Yoongi?" Hoseok laughed, clapping the smaller man on the back. Yoongi glared at his friend, tempted to turn around and walk back to the car. Fuck nature.

"Don't worry about it Yoongi-yah, climb on." Seokjin smiled, bending down in front of Yoongi, memories of the previous weekend flooded Yoongi's thoughts. Without hesitation Yoongi climbed onto his back, legs wrapping around his waist tightly. He placed his chin into the crook of Seokjin's shoulder and sighed as herbal scented hair brushed across his nose.

"O-okay then, well errr let's get going then." Namjoon raised his eyebrow, the rest of the group watching quizzically as Seokjin happily carried Yoongi across the stream. They exchanged looks with each other, hushed whispers at what had just transpired, Yoongi knew the others would be talking, getting a piggy back ride was pretty out of character for him, but he was blissfully peaceful at that very moment. So fuck what anyone thought.

-----

Back at their apartment that night the pair settled into their usual routine of cheap ramen, beer and trashy kdramas on the television.

"Hey Hyung, thanks for picking me up today," Yoongi bit nervously into his thumbnail, a habit he struggled to free himself from, "You didn't need to . . Hobi was right though, those shoes cost $300 why did I choose to wear them today?" Yoongi knew exactly why - he was trying to look good for Seokjin. He had dashed out to a Camping and Fishing store after work to purchase an entirely new outfit for the day. He settled on a long sleeved yellow and green flannel shirt, khaki trousers and a blue and black fleece fila jacket. Plus those damn tramping boots that cost as much as his share of the rent.

Seokjin leaned in, inches away from Yoongi's face, breath catching in the back of his throat, heart hammering against his rib cage. "It was my pleasure," Seokjin grabbed Yoongi by the cheeks and pinched, jiggling the flushed skin between his thumb and index finger, "That's what a good Hyung does, helps their cry baby friends out." He laughed, letting go of Yoongi and plopping back down onto his side of the couch. Yoongi's hand shot up to his cheek, fingers brushing along his warm skin. Seokjin's touch felt amazing, electric sparks coursed through his body, Yoongi wanted those hands touching him in places that crossed the line from friends to lovers, those long fingers curling up inside of him brushing against his sweet sensitive spot, wrapped around his cock pumping him until it was too much to handle and he was screaming Seokjin's name while he spilled his release over his Hyungs hand.

Yoongi found it hard to concentrate on the television in front of him, eyes constantly drifting towards his roommate who looked amazing in a pair of grey shorts and loose white T-shirt, his feet curled up underneath him, strong thigh muscles catching Yoongi's attention. He cleared his throat and quickly averted his eyes, Yoongi wasn't sure how much more of Seokjin he could deal with. He was the perfect roommate, but his desire to be fucked by the man was becoming an every minute of the day kinda thing. Maybe Yoongi needed to hurry up and move out. He thought about Seokjin at work, while doing his laundry, on the bus to the grocery store, while putting the rubbish out, when pumping his dildo in and out of his ass, Seokjin was on his mind 24/7.

Yoongi's cock twitched as he watched the couple on television, the male lead carrying the female through a cherry blossom lined park while a terrible ballad wailed in the background. He decided that being carried was his newest kink. Or maybe Seokjin's entire existence was his fetish? He tugged on his hoop earring as his thoughts travelled to a million different scenarios in which Seokjin would need to lift and carry him around. He recalled the previous weekend, waking up while Seokjin carried him to bed, how nice it felt to be held in Seokjin's arms, to hear him call Yoongi cute. He wanted, no he needed that again.

Yoongi glanced out of the corner of his eye, the brunette’s head was down as he browsed at something on his phone, he watered his lips and decided now was the perfect time to enact his master plan. Yoongi closed his eyes and let out a loud yawn, arms stretched high above his head, "Mmmm what's the time?" He asked Seokjin drowsily. "Huh? Oh it's  9:23, are you tired already?" The brunette placed his phone on the coffee table and shifted to face Yoongi. "You're not? We walked a million miles today, of course I'm tired." For theatrics he let out another yawn. Seokjin shrugged and took a sip of his beer. "Guess I've got a better stamina than you."

Over the next half an hour Yoongi let out more fake yawns, complaining about his sore muscles and tired bones - which Seokjin informed him wasn't a real thing and that he was being a whiny old man again. His body sunk into the couch, head lolling against the arm rest as he feigned falling asleep. It would only be a matter of time before he would be whisked away in Seokjin's arms and it was making him giddy, trying his hardest not to crack a smile. Yoongi heard the room fall silent, the television now switched off. His heart was racing, this was it - the big moment - his hands were softly shaking, breath uneven and shallow.

"Hey Yoongi, wake up." A large hand shook his arm attempting to wake him from his faux slumber. His eyebrows furrowed, this wasn't how it was supposed to go. Seokjin was supposed to pick him up and carry him to the bedroom, whisper a few sweet words in his ear and maybe jerk him off a bit. He opened his eyes and glared at the handsome man standing over him, his plans were ruined and he and his neglected cock were pretty pissed off.

"Why didn't you just carry me Hyung?" Yoongi sulked, crossing his arms against his chest like a defiant toddler.

"W-why would I? You can walk your legs aren't broken."

"Well you've been carrying me around a lot recently so I just thought you'd do it again tonight. Ahhh fuck it whatever." He mumbled, avoiding eye contact with the brunette who was trying his hardest not to laugh.

"Aish, Yoongi-yah do you enjoy Seokjinnie lifting you up and carrying you around?" He could no longer hold it in, erupting into a fit of laughter.

Yoongi's cheeks burnt bright red, he was already a small man but he had never felt as small as he did right at this moment. Tears threatened to spill over his long lashes, he knew he was being a little dramatic but his heart was practically ripped out of his chest by his crush. Yoongi bowed his head refusing to look anywhere other than at his hands which were clasped together tightly.

"Wait, shit Yoongi I'm sorry I didn't mean to make you cry," Seokjin dropped down onto his knees and engulfed Yoongi's hands with his own. "So you do enjoy being carried by me?"

Yoongi sniffed, "Yeah. I like a lot about you Hyung, the carrying thing is one of my favourites though."

An awkward silence filled the room, Yoongi's sniffles the only sound to break the dead air. "Well uh, there is a lot I like about you too," he stroked his thumb against the back of Yoongi's hand softly and slowly. "I like your dry sense of humor, the way you screech when you're excited - that is so adorable. I like how passionate you are about music and I really like how your cheeks turn red whenever we touch each other by accident. I sorta brush up against you on purpose just to see it."

A gasp escaped Yoongi's lips, head snapping up to look into the dark chocolate eyes of his roommate. Seokjin's cheeks puffed wide as he gave Yoongi a sweet smile, his thumb continuing to draw circles over Yoongi's hands which were resting in his lap. "I think you're cute Yoongi-yah, and I'd love to kiss you. If you'd allow me to of course."

Yoongi's eyes darted to Seokjin's plump lips, inviting and glistening. He couldn't hold back any longer, throwing himself forward as he smashed their lips together, hungry and desperate. In the wild rush of lips and tongues exploring new territory their noses bumped together, deep chuckles slipping out between kisses. Yoongi's hands frantically grasped onto Seokjin's hair, pulling him down so their body's were close but it still wasn't enough, he needed to feel naked flesh against his own. Yoongi's long fingers travelled underneath Seokjin's thin cotton T-shirt and brushed against his soft stomach, over his nipples rubbing the hard nubs between his fingers and then back down his chest. He played with the elastic waist of Seokjin's shorts, dipping his hand inside, fingers grazing the wiry mound of pubic hair just above where his hands really wanted to touch, "I-is this okay Hyungie?" Yoongi whimpered, Seokjin's tongue running along the exposed skin of his neck, teeth nipping the soft skin.

"Mmmm yeah, touch Hyung Yoongi." Seokjin bit down gently his teeth scraping the skin. He attached his lips against the smaller man's neck, alternating between sucking on the warm flesh and sly little nibbles, creating deep purple bruises that contrasted beautifully against Yoongi's pale skin. While Seokjin was busy marking his neck, Yoongi pulled his cock out of the shorts and stroked sensually up and down his length, which was growing harder and stiffer in his hand. His hand glided over Seokjin's length at a quickening pace, flicking his wrists and gripping tight around the head before pulling off and pumping again. Yoongi added another hand on Seokjin's shaft and slowly twisted in opposite directions, up then down, left then right.  His fingers played with the tip of his cock, pressing his thumb into the slit, stroking playfully over the head.

"Fuck your cock feels amazing Hyung," Yoongi sighed, Seokjin's cock pulsing in his grip, "C-can we fuck?"

Seokjin removed his swollen lips from Yoongi's neck with a 'pop' and took his time licking along the already fucked out man's lips, pressing their soft flesh against each other, gentle kisses that were in in opposition of the acceleration of Yoongi's heart beat. Seokjin sat between Yoongi's legs on the floor, hands roaming over the blonds thighs. When he reached Yoongi's crotch his fingers ghosted over Yoongi's hard cock visible through his sweats, he bucked his hips desperate for Seokjin's touch.

"Hyung's got you Yoongi, just sit back and relax hmmm?" He placed a sloppy wet kiss against the fleece material and helped pull them down to Yoongi's ankles. "Such a pretty cock Yoongi-yah." Seokjin's voice was smooth and sweet. His fingers grazed against Yoongi's balls, eyes flicking back up to watch Yoongi's reaction. He continued to massage his sack, pulling lightly and wiggling the weight in his hand. He rubbed his cheek along the soft skin of Yoongi's balls and then up and down his incredibly hard shaft. Tongue flicking out to leave small licks along the side, down to his balls and then further below to the sweet spot between Yoongi's balls and warm inviting hole.

Yoongi's slit was leaking precum so Seokjin lapped it up, moaning sinfully. A groaned escaped the back of Yoongi's throat when Seokjin took his balls into his mouth, sucking and kissing all over. He took his time enjoying their heat in his mouth. He stroked the blonds length while sucking the pale skin of Yoongi's inner thighs. Seokjin sat back and removed he and Yoongi's bottoms completely, throwing the pants into a small pile in the corner of the room. He stood and motioned for Yoongi to stand with him. Their lips crashed against another's once more, Yoongi standing on his tippy toes to match his Hyungs height. A knee slipped between Yoongi's thighs as the two men continued to taste and explore each others mouths.

"Shit, we need lube, uhhh, don't move Yoongi-yah! I'll be back quickly." Seokjin ran towards his bedroom leaving Yoongi standing naked from the waist down in their living room, cock red and hot. He gripped onto the base and squeezed tight, moaning at his own touch. Seokjin returned cock glistening from the lube, bouncing with every step. Yoongi gulped, Seokjin was longer than any cock his ass had taken before but god was he eager to have it inside him.

They kissed passionately while Seokjin fingered Yoongi's hole, stretching him open enough for his cock. Yoongi's mind had turned to mush, absolutely lost in the moment. It was as though Seokjin had flicked a switch in his ass to become a whimpering, whining mess. Seokjin bent his knees and using his right hand guided his cock into Yoongi's tight hole. Once inside he allowed Yoongi to get used to his size while his hands reached out to wrap around Yoongi's small waist. Without warning he lifted Yoongi, a squeak echoing in the silent room. "You are adorable Yoongi-yah, can't wait to hear more noises come from those pretty lips." Yoongi's legs wrapped around Seokjin's waist which readjusted their position, cock now deeper than before, big hands reached down to Yoongi's ass holding him in place as they walked out of the living room and into the hallway.

Yoongi held on tight, gripping onto strong shoulders as he was pushed against the wall with a thud. Seokjin's arms trembled from Yoongi’s weight so he started to pound into his ass before it was too much and he would have to let him go. Yoongi let out tiny pants and whimpers, eyelids half closed, mouth so slack drool was starting to drip from the corners. Seokjin's cock grazed over his prostate, hitting deep and hard with every thrust. "Hyung, hy-hyung ahh ah so good." His hands roamed over Seokjin's back leaving red and pink marks underneath the thin material of his shirt. His cock was trapped between their bodies, friction from their movements driving him insane.

Sweat dripped down Seokjin's face, his arms close to giving out. This was more intense than any workout his personal trainer at the gym had given him. He slammed his cock into Yoongi repeatedly eager to cum inside his ass. Yoongi's whimpers in his ear pushed Seokjin to his peak and exploded his white hot cum into Yoongi's warm hole.

They stood still while Seokjin caught his breath, Yoongi hanging onto his neck for dear life, almost as though the floor was lava. "Hyungie make me come, pleaseeeee I'm so close." Yoongi whined, nipping at Seokjin's lips then pouting against the plush flesh. He would rather be dead than admit it, but Seokjin was right - he was a bit of a drama queen. "I'll have to put you down though, I think my arms are about to fall off." Seokjin chuckled as Yoongi detached his legs from around the brunette's waist and placed them on the floor.

Seokjin reached down and gripped tight onto Yoongi's aching cock, moving his hand in a steady rhythm. Their foreheads touched, breathing in each others air, hushed pants and whimpers shared between the pair as they kiss messily, lips grazing chins and teeth clinking. Yoongi bucked into Seokjin's grip, incredibly close to his high. Seokjin's cum escaping slowly out of his hole and running down his creamy white thighs and the hand around his cock pushed Yoongi to his release, "Ah-ah Hyung don't stop, ahh I'm going to come, shit ahh." His body tensed as he came harder than ever before, Seokjin barely moving his hand as his cock throbbed and pulsated.

"Hyung, you have no idea how long I've wanted this to happen." Yoongi sighed, wrapping his hands around Seokjin's neck, fingers crawling their way up to thread through short dark hair. "I've wanted to do that since the day I moved in," Seokjin whispered in reply, ears turning crimson, "Come on let's get cleaned up and then cuddle."

-----

The pair made their way into Seokjin's bed, snuggled between a mess of cushions and soft toys, their limbs a tangled mess as impatient hands explored naked skin. They laughed as revelations of their feelings for each other were finally said out loud, cheeks tight and sore from smiling so hard. "Seokjin-hyung can we do this more often?" Yoongi's eyes avoided the naked man beside him focusing on the window pane instead. "Well I would hope so since I want to make your my boyfriend Yoongi-yah." Fingers caught hold of Yoongi's chin as his face was guided towards Seokjin's, a shy kiss planted on his lips. "Yes Hyung, fuck yes I'll be your boyfriend."

The roommates turned lovers drifted off to sleep that night with satisfied smiles on their faces, excited for what the future would hold for them both.

[sharkfish]

SAMANTHA & MIRANDA

in bed i practiced saying it so when the time came, i wouldn’t stagger under the weight: my dad is dead

when they ask how my weekend was, i won’t flinch when i say i spent half of it on a deathbed vigil in durant, oklahoma where the birds were loud and clear like spring but all the houses looked run down and desaturated like poverty and addiction

he spent his last days there. it only occurred to me, looking in his eyes — they used to be blue, bombardier's eyes, but were eaten up by black pupils, voids in his consciousness — he looked at me and i wondered why he hadn’t been in austin this whole time.

i missed a day of work so some people asked if i was feeling better and i said yes.

like i thought there was a time i would feel better. as if i hadn’t just been torn apart at the seams, the canon of my work spilled in a bloodslick, there are so many characters i based on him, the sea churned

there were piranhas circling his bed he used to call them family before he knew what that word meant. dad, i’ll never feel good again. dad, my horcrux, my heart dying along with your body, come back to me. mortality is just another human sin but you are bigger than that i’ve known you to laugh death & the law in the face when they came for you — “aww, baby, that felony doesn’t count, they dropped the charges” —

why did you open your arms this time?

my dad died. he taught me how to drive a stick in a little red hatchback worth exactly nothing. he drove a flareside F150, fuchsia, and he steered with his knees while his hands were busy with coffee and a cigarette he was my hero. one year i dressed up as him for halloween, in his jeans and his baseball cap and my own boots. i said “hey, baby” and carried a pack of cigarettes in my pocket. he smoked marlboro reds.

this isn’t the sum of him i don’t know how to make a person into a summary of things he taught me we loved baseball together. when i was sick we lay in bed and watched x-men all day. when we saw the second matrix film he wore his sunglasses into the theater and taught me everything i needed to know about fandom: “well, neo is going to wear his the whole movie”

they want to know how i’m coping. my dad’s dead, and i can’t feel anything but empty. i know you see me laughing but it’s just auto-pilot, it’s the thing that people do. the hand over my mouth is a tell. it’s that silent horror i didn’t know dying would be so fucked up. he was so sick. he recognized me he said “i love you” i told him he would always be a part of me. but i want a do-over. i should’ve been there sooner. i will never not regret this.

my dad died. it was a sunday and the clouds parted, the weather finally cleared. it all seemed like a joke. in my head, he’s still humming the blues, he’s still barefoot on the deck, he’s still planting flowers in the shape of a heart for my mother, he’s still talking to me about science fiction that first night we met back when i still thought orson scott card was a good writer, he’s still telling stories about finding jesus & dropping acid (mostly at the same time), he’s still watching sex and the city marathons, he’s still dying my hair red and calling me the number two to his number one, we’re at the softball fields again, he’s saying “fuuuuuck, baby” when he’s tipsy and ordering another double jack & coke

but he’s dead and he’ll never do any of that again. and me, i just keep practicing how to say it without tears, like if i repeat it enough the meaning will be lost, like if i’m real lucky

he won’t be dead after all

[keelywolfe]

FIC:  Someone to Drive ch.2 (standalone)

Summary: The road trip continues!

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Melancholy, Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Developing Relationship

Part 1

~*~

Read Part 2 on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

That first day, Stretch slept through most of it. Curled up in the passenger seat, he didn’t bear witness to the movement of the sun overhead, traveling across the sky the same way they were traveling along the highway. Signs passed by, billboards for luxury apartments and advertisements for the closest fast food drive-thru, along with more esoteric restaurants offering old fashioned family meals and fun.

They stopped for gas twice. The first time Edge paid at the pump and the second, he went inside the convenience store where he ignored the stares of the other patrons as he purchased drinks and a selection of pastries and snacks with expiration dates that might well extend into the next decade. There wasn’t time to inspect them too closely. The car was locked but he was deeply uncomfortable leaving Stretch sleeping in it alone and surrounded by unfamiliar Humans.

In the brief time it took him to gather up supplies, Edge kept the car in sight, waiting impatiently in the line while the Humans in front of him purchased gas and cigarettes and lottery tickets. No one approached the car, or him for that matter, and the clerk at the register hardly stammered when she gave him the total.

The bag went into the backseat, except for the drinks that ended up in the holders in the middle console; unsweetened green tea for him and lemonade for Stretch. Both were room temperature before Stretch woke. By then, they were through the remainder of this state and well past the ‘Welcome to the Pacific Wonderland’ sign to the next one.

They were as far away from every place Edge considered home as he’d ever been when Stretch stirred in a waking up sort of way rather than the sleepy rearranging of the past few hours. He sat up, his hood sliding half-off, and blinked owlishly as he looked around at the car. When his eye lights landed on Edge, he seemed to wake up a little more, slumping back into his seat.

Edge only glanced at him out of the corner of his socket and kept his gaze on the road.

“where are we?” Stretch asked. His voice was hoarse from sleep, rasping dryly.

“Somewhere in Oregon,” Edge said. He picked up the lemonade from the console without looking at it and held it out in offering. “According to the sign, they hope we enjoy our visit.”

The lemonade was nearly snatched from his hand and he listened as Stretch drank thirstily. The bottle was empty by the time he sighed out a grateful, “thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” That passed as the only conversation between them. There was no questioning the direction they were headed, no wheedling requests to stop at the next exit to a ridiculous roadside attraction. Edge only drove on, keeping the radio low because it seemed like the thing to do when your not-really-a-friend looked to be on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

The only other sound was the occasional vibration of Stretch’s phone. He glanced at it a few times but never seemed to reply to any texts.

Edge already texted Undyne when they’d first stopped for gas, along with his own brother. Undyne replied with several obscenities and an agreement to feed the cat. Red did not reply at all and no one else tried to contact him. There weren’t many who would.

Mostly, Stretch sat slouched in his seat, watching the blur of passing landscape outside the window. His hands occasionally tapped on his knees to the rhythm of whatever was playing on the radio and he sometimes sang along under his breath, almost too soft to be heard.

Eventually he discovered the bag of food in the backseat and scrounged through its offerings, selecting a cellophane-wrapped cheese danish for himself. The banana nut muffin was given to Edge with its plastic packaging removed, carefully wrapped in a napkin from the bag to keep crumbs from scattering over the car interior. It was surprisingly thoughtful, and Edge took his eye lights from the road long enough to murmur a thank you.

Stretch didn’t reply, already wolfing down his own pastry, though he was careful to keep the crumbs contained.

When he finished, he tucked the wrappers back into the paper bag, bringing back out with him the bottles of water Edge purchased. They replaced the empty tea and lemonade ones and both of them settled back into a much briefer silence, broken when Stretch abruptly said, “advertising.”

Edge blinked, glancing at him, “I beg your pardon?”

Stretch nodded towards the window. “that billboard. it said ‘advertising.”

“Yes?” Edge asked, cautiously. “That is what billboards do.”

“uh huh. benefit!” Stretch said triumphantly. Edge was beginning to worry about what sort of chemicals the ‘Kum and Go’ station was adding to their pastries when Stretch added, “cold!”

The point of the game clicked and Edge looked out at the approaching signs, searching. “Diesel,” Edge said, firmly.

“aw, come on,” Stretch moaned. He flopped back dramatically into his seat or at least as much as the seat belt allowed. “street signs don’t count, only billboards!”

“If that was a rule, you should have specified before you began,” Edge said, then added, “East.”

The competition began in earnest after that and the next few hours passed in a flurry of exchanged words in careful alphabetical order, peppered with the occasional out of place curse and if Stretch used ‘Qdoba’ from the green exit sign rather than a billboard in defiance of his own rules, Edge was too relieved for the dreaded ‘q’ to be vanquished to offer any protest.

It was nice, in a way, the dappled green of the passing trees around them, the billboards, and the sunshine pouring in through the windows as they quarreled, only laughingly instead the real arguments they’d had in the past.

Edge still didn’t know why they were here at all, but he was finding it didn’t really matter. Not yet.

~*~

It was barely dark when Edge pulled off into the rest stop that evening. Normally he wouldn’t have considered sleeping before midnight, but then, normally he wouldn’t have been up at three am in the morning, nor would he have spent the entire day driving. The billboard game petered out with the encroaching darkness concealing far too many words, and Stretch was half-drowsing next to him, rousing as Edge put the car into park.

“huh?” Stretch asked, drowsily. Despite all the sleep he’d had, there were still darkened smudges beneath his sockers, as if the slumber only glanced over him instead of settling in. He scrubbed at his face with the back of his hand, blinking too hard and confused. “we stopping here?” Stretch sat up and got a better look at their surroundings. “a rest stop?” he asked doubtfully.

“Yes,” Edge agreed, unfastening his seat belt. “I may not need a bathroom, but I do need a rest.”

“a rest stop,” Stretch repeated. "we're gonna sleep at a rest stop?"

"I believe it’s traditional for road trips." Edge opened his door and stepped out into the cooling air, groaning as his aching joints basked in the chance to extend his long limbs to their fullest.

Stretch followed him, asking nervously, "isn't that illegal?"

"Not in this state. Besides,” Edge circled around to the back of his car and opened the hatchback, “no one will be able to see us back here.”

His brother had mocked him when he’d purchased an SUV, rambling on about soccer moms and incels. Edge had ignored him. Much as he would have enjoyed a convertible like Papyrus’s, practically demanded that at least one of them own something with more space and a bright red paint job was an invitation to police for a traffic stop. His face was already invitation enough, in Edge’s opinion, and when he’d bought the SUV, he’d gone with plain black.

In the back, he kept a small emergency kit stored away. Years of living in Snowdin taught him to be prepared and it was, with road flares, small traffic cones, and a neatly folded-up blanket. Edge moved the box of supplies to the front seat, out of the way, then took out the blanket and shook it out. He frowned at the size of it. “I’m sorry, I only have the one.”

Stretch only shrugged. He was gathering up the trash from the last of their snacks and the empty drink bottles, tossing them all into a nearby bin. “it’s fine, it’s not that cold.”

Very quickly they figured out that a larger blanket would have only been of minor assistance. The SUV was excellent for moving boxes and small furniture, less so for sleeping arrangements. Even with the back seats folded down, there was only enough room for them to both lay full-length if they stretched out at a diagonal. It meant sleeping far closer than he usually ever was to Stretch, both of them pressed up against each other with the musty shared blanket spread over them.

Stretch didn’t seem to mind, offering no protest to the close quarters. Point of fact, he settled in close with a sort of muted enthusiasm, as if craving the contact. Edge didn’t deny him, only sliding his arm under Stretch’s head in a very narrow makeshift pillow.

They lay together in the silent dark and as tired as he was, sleep was slow in coming. Headlights would cut through the windows as other cars pulled in and left, the traffic sounds too close, and the car interior too quiet, in a way his apartment was not, showcasing their mutual breathing. Stretch shifted next to him, his long legs bumping into Edge’s.

“i heard you moved out,” Stretch said suddenly. His voice was soft and still too loud in the quiet.

“I did,” Edge agreed and nothing more.

Stretch didn’t ask why, which was good because Edge was tired of not being able to explain, even to Red. Beneath his careless attitude and bluster, Edge knew his brother was hurt by him leaving, worried that there was no one to watch his back. Monsters often lived several generations in one home and Red surely wondered why Edge didn’t want to live in his. He wasn’t sure how to make his brother understand that he wanted a chance at something else, that simply being on the surface wasn’t enough to chase away the ghosts of Underfell. He wanted to live on his own, to figure out something that he didn’t have the words to express.

Not that he needed them, he supposed. Red always had more than enough words for both of them.

Stretch hummed curiously, “how’s that going? i mean, having your own place?”

“It’s—” Edge’s breath caught as Stretch’s pelvis shifted against his own, bumping up against his hip in what was certainly a deliberate little grind. It was distracting and not nearly as alarming as it should be. His mouth filled with soft magic almost unconsciously as it happened again. Belatedly, Edge finished on, “fine,” though he no longer remembered the question. His focus was on the slender body pressed close to his own, the surge of warmth rising underneath the threadbare blanket.

They'd kissed once before, a long time ago when they’d all still been underground. The self-proclaimed skeleton clan made up of, well, themselves, meeting for movie nights. On that night, his brother brought over a few jars of his latest batch of moonshine, the clear liquid deceptively tasteless and enormously strong. A small glass that would normally only ease the reality around them instead turned it into a blurred whirlwind, and by the next day Edge had a killer headache and few memories of the night before, save one.

Of him and Stretch, and as it turned out, their antagonism was easily muted behind the mask of hard liquor. They’d bumped into each other in the kitchen entryway, Stretch going in and Edge coming out, and their faces were so close together that to Edge’s alcohol-soaked thoughts, a kiss seemed to be the only reasonable solution.

He couldn’t recall if it was a good kiss or not, only that Stretch accepted it and that his mouth was as filled with honeyed sweetness as his words never were. But when Edge tried for another, Stretch held him back. He’d offered a lopsided smile and said with uncommon gentleness, “sorry, edgelord, i’m not really interested in sleeping with you tonight.”

Edge hadn't bothered to point out that he hadn’t offered to sleep with him. It seemed churlish when he'd already been rather kindly brushed off and neither of them ever mentioned it again. He’d long since written it off as a moment of drunken foolishness and nothing more.

He wondered if that statement still stood. The leg sliding up his own and the knee teasingly pressing almost between Edge’s femurs seemed to indicate it did not.

Edge didn’t move as a hand settled on his ribcage, beneath the blanket but over his t-shirt. He only inhaled sharply through his nasal cavity and waited. He wasn’t sure what to feel when that hand did not move, fingers only flexing, the tips briefly digging in as their warmth bled slowly through thin cotton.

"is this…all right?" Stretch asked uncertainly.

Edge closed his sockets, took in a long shaky breath and let it out in a hiss of, "Yes."

The word barely finished before a mouth caught his own. As sweet as his blurred memories, stuttering nervously before firming as Edge turned towards Stretch and their bodies slotted together easily, like pieces from the same puzzle.

Fumbling in the backseat of a car was a stage he’d skipped when it came to his sexual awakening, mostly for lack of a car. The environment lacked a great deal, room, comfort, privacy, and yet, it was difficult to care. How could he care when Stretch was shivering against him, little moans and pants escaping him as Edge let his hands wander, finding sensitive joints and cartilage to stroke and tweak, nibbling along his mandible to explore the delicate cavern of his audial canal.

It was less awkward than he might have thought, their past arguments were as distant as their home. There was only here in this car, with the occasional flash of headlights illuminating them and offering glimpses of barely exposed bone and wide sockets. Edge only tensed when Stretch fumbled with his belt buckle, wary when a hand wormed its way down the front of his pants. People were often surprised by his preference for a vulva over a penis, a few were even offended, acting as if he’d misled them or perhaps that it was beneath him to prefer being penetrated during sex. More than one sexual encounter had been ruined by the assumption that he would be the one using his cock and he couldn’t help tensing as he waited to see if this would be one of them.

But Stretch didn’t comment, his slender fingers moving with no emotion other than eagerness. When Stretch tugged impatiently at the waistband of Edge’s tight jeans, he helped shove them down, only to startle as Stretch followed their downward path, slithering lower with bony fingertips, then the wet heat of his mouth.

Edge clapped both hands over his own mouth, choking off a cry at the slippery touch of a tongue against bone and ectoflesh. He stared up the fabric ceiling of his car as it was briefly illuminated in the flash of headlamps, his pants caught around his knees and Stretch’s face buried between his femurs, only closing his sockets when the rising pleasure and that clever tongue became too much, sending him shuddering over a gloriously toe-curling peak.

All too soon Stretch crawled back up over him, his eye lights overbright and his mouth wet as he stuttered out, “god, you—you’re so—”

Edge never got to hear exactly what he was. He opened his mouth to the slick press of Stretch’s against it and tasted himself on his stroking tongue. There in the stuttering darkness, he never did find out why they were here, but he did learn a few things about Stretch and about himself.

He thought perhaps the soft, deep cry Stretch made when he came was his best discovery on this trip so far.

tbc

[heximagines]

HOLY FUCK ANOTHER SEV AUTHOR- YOU'RE DOING THE LORD'S WORK, MY FRIEND. Whilst I'm here- can I get a Severen and Vamp!reader wherein the reader is the only person who can shut Severen up/get him to calm down? 'Cause I feel like if Sev had a s/o, they really would have that magic touch 🥺🥺💕

I love this bastard man so damn much it hurts tbh. This one was fun to write and I hope you like it! 

CW for allusions to an abusive relationship 

Severen was rough around the edges anyone with eyes could see that. But somehow you’d managed to soften some of those edges. Even his family was surprised at how effortlessly you’d wrapped Severen around your finger. It seemed to of happened so suddenly. You were leaning over the bar, flagging down the bartender for a shot, when Severen took notice of a patron paying you a little too much attention. He watched as the man sauntered up and leaned next to you, telling the bartender to make it a double and grab him one too before placing a bill down. Severen knew that you were only going to make a meal out of him but he couldn’t help but feel jealousy bubbling up in his chest. He watched as you turned to him and gave him a smile that was only for him and the soon to be deceased. The man spoke to you in a hushed tone and reached out to card his fingers through the hair just above your ear when Severen decided he had seen enough. Maybe it was because he was feeling territorial that day or maybe he was just antsy but he slipped out of the booth that they’d all chosen to occupy and advanced towards the poor son of a bitch. He snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you away from your dinner, making you shoot him a sour look. “Well howdy there, I do believe you’ve made the acquaintance of my lil honey here.” His fingers came under your chin and he tilted your face up to look at him. You pouted stubbornly and Severen chuckled before pecking your forehead, a promise to make it up to you later. “I’m Severen, and you are?” He turned back to the man had a wicked grin on his face. “Well pardon me, I’m just a stranger. It seemed to me that your lil honey here needed a drink. So I just thought I’d be so kind.” Severen’s eyes flickered to the side as the bartended set the shots down on the bar and retreated with his cash. “Well that is mighty kind of ya.” Severen grabbed one of the shots and downed it, sighing in contentment once the liquid cleared his throat. “That’s the good stuff huh?” The booth behind ya’ll tittered with laughter but you only rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. That was your meal your kill, and here was your boyfriend trying to cut in so his stupid big ego wouldn’t be bruised. He looked down to grin at you when he realized you were still glaring at him, your jaw set. Suddenly he was worried he’d stepped out of bounds. “Severen. Go sit down.” The man beside the two of you laughed loudly. “You heard? ‘ey said go sit down.” Severen’s eyes shot between you two, trying to decide if he was going to let this guy talk like that to him or if he was going to get in trouble with you. “Severen...” At your word he backed up, shoved his hands in his pockets and plodded back to the booth. Not only did the man in front of you laugh but you could hear Homer snickering behind you too. You take a step closer to the man and place a hand on his chest. “Attention down here big guy, I still want that drink.” There was no time to process your words before you were leaning up and sinking your teeth into his neck. You wanted to play with your food a little more but for now you decided Severen was humbled enough. But while watching you stop Severen from getting into a fight was already impressive watching you make Severen completely stop a fight was monumental.

They had always wondered why you were alone when Severen found you. Most vampires stuck together, taking in anyone they’d sired like family. It’d always made Jesse nervous that you came from outside their circle, made it harder to trust you. But you’d carved out your own little niche in his family and Jesse’s nerves eventually subsided. That was until you’d been traveling through Nevada. You’d mentioned having lived there before and they figured you wouldn’t mind a return visit. However, once your stolen Spirit hatchback rolled over the city line to LAs Vegas you requested Jesse pull over. He reluctantly obliged before they all watched you calmly exit the vehicle and start walking the opposite direction, back into the desert. Severen stared back at you, open mouthed and baffled. Quickly he scrambled out of his seat and ran after you. “Wait! Y/n Wait! Where the hell ya think you’re goin’?” You turn and point back towards the city. “Anywhere but fucking there.” For the first time since you’d entered the state of Nevada Severen could clearly see the panic that had been surging through you clear on your face. Your pupils were blown wide and your hands were shaking ever so slightly, he approached you cautiously, eyes soft with concern. Grabbing you gently by the wrist Severen pulled you in. You gladly wrapped your arms around him and held onto him tightly. His fingers scratched soothingly at the base our skull and he squeezed you. “Darlin’ what’s wrong?” He finally coaxed you back to the car and on the side of the road, just outside the city limits you told them about the man who made you like this. It wasn’t a sweet story. It wasn’t one you liked to share. But int the end you’d gotten as far away as you could and leaned to survive this new life all alone. Jesse set his jaw eyes looking to Diamondback who nodded before looking back to Severen who did the same. Jesse patted your knee before turning around to start the car again. “We’ll only stop for a bite, we’ll be in the suburbs before daylight.” You’d known you wasted some of their time already, so you only agreed. You all needed to eat. The entire rest of the ride in you gripped Severen’s hand tightly and chewed your bottom lip. He moved only to wrap his arm around you and hold you close. After a moment he pressed his lips to your ear “Don’t worry baby, I’m here. Ain’t no one gonna hurt you. I promise.”

You quickly realized Jesse didn’t really know where he was going so you stepped in to direct him to yet another tiny dive bar. It was one you used to frequent, but by now you knew it’d be all new staff and patrons. The city moved fast but you stayed the same. When you walked in your guess was correct. The bar was just as low key as you remembered, filled with only four customers, and not a single face was recognizable. You and Severen sat at the bar, waiting to be served, and the others took the corner closest to the door. The bartender was taking her sweet time polishing a glass instead of serving you two and you could feel Severen buzzing beside you, restless. Finally a deep voice from behind the two of you drew her attention, a familiar voice that made you go rigid. “I believe you have customers waiting! And important ones at that. Get a round of shots, the good tequila.” You watched as the bartender jumped, nearly dropping the glass she’d been cleaning before scrambling to work. A heavy hand fell on your shoulder and a familiar scent flooded your senses as the man behind you leaned in. “You still like tequila, don’t ya?” You supposed that in hindsight, coming somewhere familiar wasn’t the right choice.  

Severen was out of his seat and Jesse was across the room before you could even turn to confirm what you already knew. Severen was about to grab him up when Jesse stepped in, holding his arm out and keeping your boyfriend at bay. But that wouldn’t be enough he practically had to wrestle Severen back to his chair as your own was turned slowly towards the predator behind you. A cold hand that felt nothing like Severen’s comforting one cupped your cheek and he leaned in close. “I knew you’d come back. I waited right here.” “We ain’t lookin’ for trouble, stranger.” Jesse cut in, making him turn away from you. He eyed Severen and laughed. “Might wanna tell that to him.” And just like that Severen ripped himself from Jesse’s grasp and launched at your creator. The two men tumbled to the ground and you jumped to your feet. But before you or anyone else could do anything a well landed punch to the face sent Severen flying back, across the bar. His head cracking loudly against the opposite wall in a way that made you gasp. The man before you calmly go to his feet before moving to take a step towards Severen. At the same time you and Jesse closed in, standing shoulder to shoulder to block his path. “I see you went off and found a new family. I’m hurt. No calls? No postcard? Is that how you treat me after all I gave you?” Jesse placed a hand on his chest, drawing his attention once again. “Like I said we want no trouble. We’ll be out of here.” He shook his head at Jesse, smirking. “Not with her you’re not.” In this time Severen was able to recover enough to slide off the bar and wipe his own blood from his busted lip. You quickly ran back to him and grabbed him by the jacket. His hands instinctively went to your waist as he glared across the bar. You shook him until his gaze finally landed on you. You could still hear the two men conversing tensely in the background but you tuned it out. “Severen, you can not fight him. He’s going to kill you.” Severen barked out a loud laugh, “I’d like to se ‘em try! That punch tickled.” You shook him again but his gaze stayed firmly put across the room this time. You glanced back to see Diamondback at the door standing guard and Jesse doing his best to ease the tension on his end. “Severen you promised. You promised to protect me. And I don’t feel very fucking safe right now.” And he could hear it, the way your voice wavered. He’d never once seen you afraid. Not like this. Your grip on his jacket tightened and finally he relented. His posture relaxing a fraction. His hands reeled you in closer. “Then let’s go...” You directed Severen towards a back door, Mae and Homer quick to take the queue to follow. They filed out just ahead of you. Severen stayed firmly put just inside the bar and you were just outside, both waiting for Jesse and Diamondback. Slowly they both retreated as well. Diamond back grabbed your shoulders to guide you away and Jesse grabbed Severen’s to do the same. Before the door could fall shut you heard it, one last taunt. “You’ll be back!”

When you all piled into the car, still hungry and a bit shaken, you wanted to cry. For the first time in a long time you wanted to sob. But you didn’t. Instead you tilted your head back and looked up at the roof of the car, cool hands running over your face. You hadn’t been that scared since you left. And now you were sure if your heart could still beat it’d be palpitating painfully. Silently Jesse started the car and took off. None of you knew where to go from here other than out of Vegas.  

[language-of-love]

For the intimacy prompts: 3. Touching foreheads and/or 51. Slow dancing

For some reason, this sparked a little high school AU idea, so I hope you enjoy it! Read on AO3.

❅ ❆ ❅ ❆ ❅

Spreading his fingers wide inside his mittens, he tries to soak up as much heat as possible from the roaring bonfire as wisps of snowflakes mix with the embers shooting up towards the stars. It’s too cold to be out here and there’s a million reasons why he should have gone home hours ago, but the one reason he’s stayed is inching ever closer. 

And he just can’t help but wonder. 

The music coming from the open windows of Twyla’s hatchback changes to a soft guitar intro that’s familiar, but his memory of it is too far out of reach as his mind is so focused on the proximity of Patrick Brewer as he hums along beside him under his breath.

David doesn’t usually come to these high school parties, but Patrick had asked him if he’d be here as they’d put a final coat of black paint on the chairs for Cabaret and David had found himself so tongue tied that he’d somehow mumbled that he'd “maybe make an appearance”. Patrick’s smile had been immediate, wide and welcoming before he’d quickly tucked it back away with reddened cheeks and David knew he had to show up. To see. To put himself in the path of a possibility. 

“What song is this?” he asks, needing to break the silence with something.

“The Civil Wars and Taylor Swift. I can’t remember the name of it though.”

“It’s pretty.”

Pretty. That’s the best he can come up with? Patrick’s the best musician at their school and…

“I was thinking the same thing.”

Oh. Okay.

“Where did everybody go?” Patrick asks.

When David lifts his arms to tug his beanie down over his ears, his elbow rustles Patrick’s coat and swirls of anxious anticipation erupt in his belly at the unescapable knowledge that Patrick is choosing to stand very, very close to him right now. Ten minutes ago, he was standing on the other side of the bonfire. He’s not now.

“I heard something about a beer run and I think some of the couples have retreated to their cars. I’d steer clear of Jake’s truck by the barn unless you’re into that sort of party.”

Patrick’s chuckle is deep and rumbly and the breath he expels creates a cloud that mixes with David’s before disappearing up into the smoke. 

“Nah, I’m good here…” Patrick’s words trail off into the cold air and David conjures some courage to look over at him, finding him staring back with a look so full of questions David feels a bit uneasy at the multitude of possible answers. “...with you.”

“With me?”

“Yeah. Is that…? Is that okay?”

David’s face gives away his answer as his mouth curls up into a half smile that he can’t seem to stop, even as he chews at the inside of his cheek. God, he just likes Patrick so much and he’s wondered, for a while, if he was picking up hints. But Patrick’s always been with Rachel. Until a few months ago. So...David just wasn’t sure of his preferences. 

Stevie had chastised him just last week about that though, spread out on her bedspread as she puffed smoke from her joint towards the ceiling. “David, you’re not going to learn his preferences hanging out every night with me.”

Fuck, she’s going to be unbearable if she learns she was right all along.

The music gets louder suddenly and David shifts his attention to Twyla’s car, spying her through the window holding up her thumb in a silent show of encouragement and oh god, does everybody know? How mortifying. Looking back over at Patrick, he has to catch his breath at the smile he sees there, waiting, patiently for whatever is supposed to happen next. 

“Do you want to dance?” he hears himself ask.

When Patrick’s eyes go wide, David regrets that impulse immediately and tries to conjure up something to say so he can take it back.

“Um, I’ve never,” Patrick says, his voice quiet as he speaks towards the frozen leaves at his feet. “With a guy, I mean.”

“Oh, okay.”

Patrick’s fingertips from where they are poking out of his fingerless gloves are bright pink as he tentatively reaches out for David’s arm, and David lets his body move in the direction he’s being lightly tugged until he finds himself face to face with a very flushed, very nervous, Patrick Brewer.

“But I’d like to.”

“The song’s almost over though,” David hedges, suddenly overcome with a wave of insecurity.

“David.”

“What?”

Patrick’s hands are on his waist now, pulling him forward and David, well, he takes a deep breath in and lets the cold air shock his system into action.

“Come here.”

He does. 

His arms anchor into the thick padded shoulders of Patrick’s brown corduroy jacket and his eyes dance everywhere except Patrick’s face for a good ten seconds as he lets himself acclimate to this new, dreamlike reality he’s found himself in. When he does force himself to meet Patrick’s gaze, he almost stumbles in surprise at the warmth reflecting from the fire in Patrick’s whiskey colored eyes and the soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“Too strange?”

Why did he ask that? God, he needs to stop self sabotaging himself all the time.

“What?”

“Dancing with a guy.”

Patrick’s hand at the waist of his entirely weather inappropriate leather jacket clenches a little and David’s afraid he’s about to let go, but instead, he slides that hand inside the open jacket and spreads his fingers wide along David’s back and David’s unsure of what to do next. But something he’s heard his mother say many times as she’s prepared for another role pops into his head and maybe for the first time in his life, he heeds her advice. 

He leans in. 

And so does Patrick.

Their foreheads are thankfully warm from the fire as they meet and David waits with bated breath for Patrick to answer the question he probably shouldn’t have asked. But now that he has, the answer has somehow taken on monumental importance.

“It feels right.”

Oh sweet Jesus.

Before he can respond, the song ends and there’s a jarring shift to a driving beat, but things go silent and David chuckles softly as he pictures Twyla in her car, frantically searching for another slow song on her drugstore brand MP3 player. He could let go of Patrick’s shoulders while they wait, but he doesn’t, and neither does Patrick. They just keep shuffling their feet and smiling down at their shoes crunching the dead leaves and the thin layer of snow.

When the first few notes of Christina Perri’s “Arms” comes on though, he huffs and can’t stop himself from turning towards Twyla’s car and shouting “A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“But David, it’s so romantic!” 

She gives her horn a little honk and David gives her the finger, but he’s grinning from ear to ear as Patrick’s arm winds its way into his jacket to join the other one to draw him in closer. 

“David,” Patrick says, so soft, practically a whisper, drawing David’s attention back where it belongs, back to where Patrick’s eyes are darting new questions straight at his mouth.

Okay. 

So, this is happening.

His cashmere mitten gets snagged a little in the short hairs at the back of Patrick’s neck as he tips his chin and draws him in and their lips are a little chapped from the cold, but the tiny pant of breath Patrick expels the second their mouths touch spreads like fire all over David’s skin. Patrick leans into it, just lets himself be kissed, smiling sweetly into the firelight when David pulls back too soon to let him, both of them, take stock of what’s just transpired. Patrick doesn’t say anything, but his fingers are pushing tenderly into David’s plush sweater and he’s keeping the tip of his nose close so it’s brushing David’s as he takes a few uneven breaths, so David just waits. He wants Patrick to make the next move.

Thankfully, he does.

“Wanna go warm up in my car?”

“Did you fix the heater?”

He can’t help it. The last time he was in Patrick’s car it was an icebox.

“Yeah. I watched a YouTube tutorial.”

“That does not dispel confidence, Patrick.”

“Fine, you wanna stay here and makeout in front of Twyla and whoever else is watching us from their cars right now?”

David’s jaw drops open at the return of the overly confident Patrick Brewer he’s been crushing on for weeks and he just shakes his head and lets himself be led through the parked cars, many with windows scandalously fogged, to the passenger side door of Patrick’s little silver sedan. Away from the prying eyes of their classmates and past the unknown of their first, Patrick doesn’t hesitate, not even for a moment, from initiating their second kiss. He presses David up against the car and with fingers so cold David can’t help but flinch, he holds David’s face steady as he kisses all the breath from David’s lungs. His stocky frame is warm and pulled tight as he settles his weight between David’s legs and it’s not long before the back door is opened and they scramble into the back seat in an uncoordinated tangle. 

Through laughs and demands, he manages to wrestle the car keys from Patrick’s pocket and climbs over his lap so he can reach up into the front and turn the car on and get the heat going. The radio station is set to some sports talk show and he’s about to start turning the dial to find something more appropriate for the mood, but Patrick’s hands are on his hips dragging him back and he abandons that task for the prospect of more kissing. 

Patrick’s thighs are thick and wide and a perfect perch as he settles himself onto his lap and smiles down at flush pinked cheeks and lips wet from his kisses and he honestly can’t believe that all of this is real. Pulling off his mittens, he finally gets his hands on Patrick’s skin as he wraps his hands around his neck and lowers himself down to his waiting mouth, shivering at the eagerness of Patrick’s lips and hands welcoming him back. Patrick’s ineffective tune-up of his heater is no match for the stamina of teenage hormones and it eventually sputters out, but they’ve done a pretty good job of warming themselves all on their own at that point anyway. 

Their drive back home is spent with fingers clasped, shivering, and smiling from ear to ear as Patrick’s death trap of a car trudges slowly along the back country roads with fogged up windows and young love blooming warm in their hearts. 

He hears it from his mother the next day at dress rehearsal when Patrick’s neck is covered with hickeys and the makeup team can’t seem to cover them up. He can’t help it if Patrick was already wearing the lightest shade.

From the look on Patrick’s face as he smiles over at him from center stage, he can honestly say that neither of them have any regrets. Not a single one.

[lambourngb]

Fanfic first sentence: "I hate surprises."

Sequel to this

“I hate surprises. I didn’t know you were here,” Alex replied quietly, before looking around the empty bar. “I didn’t see your truck outside either.”

“I loaned it to Rosa, she wanted to pick up some supplies for a new project, and they won’t fit in Arturo’s hatchback.” Michael rubbed his sweaty palm against his jeans and shifted awkwardly in place. He was forcefully reminded that this was the first time they had been alone together since Alex had started dating in earnest. There had been buffers before in their public interactions, Isobel, Rosa, Maria, even his sad sack of a brother Max had done his best to keep conversations light and friendly. “I have no idea what she has planned, but whatever it is called for a couple of floor to ceiling canvases from Albuquerque that would only fit in my truck bed. So yeah, she dropped me here.”

The mention of Rosa pushed away the closed wariness, and Alex finally cracked a small smile. “That was nice of you.”

“Well, I promised Liz I would look after her, while she’s ...away.” Alex’s smile broadened at his explanation, causing a new awkward warmth to heat Michael’s face. He would have rather faced the guarded look from Alex than this proud, light expression. It was doing things to his heart, dangerous things, like beating on a closed door inside him. “It’s no big deal. Anyway, um, carry on with your practice. I’m ...I’m just gonna finish up here so Maria clears my bar tab from the week and get out of your hair.”

Alex looked down at his guitar, before lifting his eyes back to Michael, some of the warmth banked. “Any requests while you work then? I’m just messing around, no real setlist to practice.”

“Nah, whatever you want. It all sounds good.” Michael grabbed his wrench and then dropped back down behind the bar out of sight. He exhaled again, looking at the repaired tap ruefully. If he left now, he could consider the encounter a success. No shouting, no tears, no urge to empty his flask of acetone to numb himself.

Then. The soft strands of “Bright Eyes” picked up in the quiet bar and Michael revised that last thought, unscrewing the cap from his flask to take a long drink as Alex played.

[lovely-umbrella]

          This drabble is a part of my fanfic series “I Am A Nightmare And You Are A Miracle” and probably won’t make sense unless you’ve read that. If you haven’t read it, here’s a link! https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986128

~

Perfect

           Everything had to be perfect – San wouldn’t allow for any mistakes in his plan. He had been formulating it for weeks now, and the last few days he had agonized over every minute detail. With the day finally approaching, he was confident albeit nervous. Just thinking about it made San’s heart race in excitement and fear, eager for the day but dreading the outcome.

           Because San was going to tell Wooyoung he loved him.

           It would be a perfect day. San was picking Wooyoung up from his evening class to spend the night. They’d sleep in as late as they wanted before heading out for some shopping; Wooyoung had been lamenting how long it had been since he had gone to a shopping district and splurged. And now that he was making more money and getting more hours at the convenience store, San had offered to go with. Finally, they’d end the day driving up to a park an hour away to car-camp for the evening, watching the sunset and stars until they got too cold and headed home.

           It was a bit more than they were used to doing, but both had been working hard and making minimal time whenever they could for one another. San was looking forward to spoiling his boyfriend, even if Wooyoung pouted and protested.

           (San did always love the way Woo pursed his lips or puffed his cheeks melodramatically).

           And while they drove up to the park, they’d probably sit in silence most of the way, Wooyoung gazing out the window and humming along to whatever music was playing. He’d be bobbing his head subconsciously while San held his hand, just like he always did, but also to calm his nerves.

           San had brought a big, fluffy comforter for them to sit on in the trunk of his hatchback along with some battery-operated fairy lights for when it got dark. Wooyoung would no doubt complain about the cold before snuggling up against San (which was in no way his plan) to watch the sunset. The way the sky glowed always reminded San of their day at Han River- a day he held so dearly to his heart, even now.

           And when they were pressed together, no space between either of their bodies, that’s when San would say it.

           San had practiced how he would say it for over a week, enunciating the words in the mirror or the quiet of his apartment until he found the right tone and cadence. Maybe it was silly to fret over such a detail, but Wooyoung deserved the world and more. San would climb mountains for him and swim across any ocean or sea if Wooyoung simply willed it.

           And sure, Seonghwa had described that behavior as “ridiculous” and “utterly unnecessary,” but what did he know?

           San glanced at his watch from his place on the couch, mindlessly watching some series to pass the time. Wooyoung’s class would be ending soon, and not wanting the younger to wait out in the cold, San decided to head out early.

           He was going to make sure the mood stayed positive all night- no arguments or disagreements of any kind. Everything had to be perfect.

 ********

             Wooyoung had spent their takeout dinner babbling cheerfully, laughing about what a classmate had said or something that had happened at work earlier in the week. It made San’s heart swell with affection to watch his face light up when he spoke, his eyes bright and full of mirth.

           Currently, they were teaming up to wash the dishes after San had realized they had piled up a bit. Wooyoung had chided him for letting it get that bad, but there was no force behind it. He threw a teasing comment here and there at San’s face as he dried as well, going as far as making San rewash certain dishes that had “a spot” or weren’t up to his standards. It was annoying, but in good fun at first, though it was starting to test San’s patience.

           “What the fuck is this?” Wooyoung sneered playfully, shoving a small bowl beneath San’s nose. “There’s milk crusted on this!”

           “That’s the pattern of the bowl,” San huffed, arching a brow. “It’s handmade, and that’s clearly a fault in the ceramic.”

           “I think I’d know old cereal milk when I see it,” Wooyoung teased. “Wash it again!”

           He moved to slide it back into the soapy water, but San nudged him away with his shoulder. “Stop, it’s fine.”

           “You’ll poison me with rotten milk crust!”

           “It’s the ceramic!”

           Wooyoung kept trying to put the bowl back, grinning wide as San laughed. The older pulled his hand from the sink full of water to shove Woo’s bicep. Wooyoung cried out, recoiling as though he had been burned.

           “You got me wet!”

           “You deserved it,” San teased, returning his attention to his scrubbing. His gaze was down at the plate he was cleaning when he was suddenly splashed with rinsing water from the other sink. He gawked, feeling droplets reach all the way to his hair. “Hey!”

           “You deserved it,” Wooyoung mocked in a low voice, sticking his tongue out.

So that’s how it was going to be.

           San smirked, scooping up a handful of suds before turning and slapping Wooyoung’s chest. He squawked in surprise as the suds exploded outward, leaving a wet spot on his shirt.

           “You ass!”

           The two began to duel, Wooyoung wielding the rinse water while San threw suds. At first, the thought that they were making an even larger mess to clean up crossed San’s mind until Wooyoung cupped both hands and launched the water at his face. All bets were off at that point. The fight escalated into shrieks and laughter, both of them struggling to have the other one surrender.

           It wasn’t until, in a bold move, San threw the sponge directly at Wooyoung that he gained the upper hand. He pinned the younger’s back against the sink, holding a wrist in one hand while the other pushed on Woo’s forehead, threatening to dunk his hair into the water.

           “Yield!” San demanded dramatically.

           “Never!” Wooyoung cried, his free hand trying to pull San’s away. But the older had more muscle on him as well as the more ideal position.

           “Suit yourself.” San pushed harder on his head, Wooyoung writhing beneath his grasp. He could see the tips of Wooyoung’s long hair grazing the surface before the younger gasped.

           “Okay, okay!” He squealed, laughing loudly. “I give up!”

           San hummed in pride, pulling his hands away to rest them on the edge of the sink, caging his boyfriend. Wooyoung leaned up from where he had been bent backwards, reaching back to feel his hair as he gawked.

           “You actually got my hair wet!” he huffed, slapping San’s chest in mock-anger. His wide smile was still plastered to his face, however, thus diminishing the significance of the smack.

           San grinned back, slightly panting from their fight as they stood there, pressed against the sink. Wooyoung was still mumbling about his hair, yet San was enamored by him nonetheless.

           The way Wooyoung’s eyes seemed to sparkle beneath his kitchen lights during their fight had made San’s heart beat in double time. Even now, they gleamed with wonder and delight in a way that made them appear to be filled with countless stars. His cheeks were flushed pink from the exertion of their fight, turned upright by the wide smile he still wore. His face was practically glowing, and when he glanced up to meet San’s eyes the older felt his breath stutter.

           Wooyoung’s brow arched slightly, looking puzzled as his lips twitched. “What? What’s that look for?”

           San realized his smile had faded, his eyes widened as he admired the boy between his arms. His plans were completely forgotten in that moment, scattered away like the soap suds on the floor. His heart pounded in his chest as he slowly slid a hand to cup Wooyoung’s face.

           “I love you.”

           Wooyoung blinked once, twice, his lips parting in apparent surprise. After a short moment, San began to panic, worried that maybe the younger didn’t feel the same way yet- or maybe he wouldn’t at all. Perhaps San had moved too fast? He could hear his pulse in his ears as he panicked, terrified that he had fucked up and done something that could ruin their relationship.

           But in the few seconds San had these fears, Wooyoung’s face softened, his eyes glistening with galaxies. His smile returned, so wide it amazed San it could even fit on his face as the flush deepened on his round cheeks. He lifted a hand to the one cupping his face, his still-wet fingers lacing with San’s.

           “I love you, too.”        

[songofsoma]

OTP QUESTION MEME

I was tagged by @knightava​ to do this :-)

tagging: @blightning​​ @megan-the-canadian​​ @fruitjuucy​​ @aelwen​​​ @rosejellyy​​ @ritsusohma​​ @stella-minerva​​

CECILIA BECK X AVA DU MORTAIN [ art done by blightning ]

DISAGREEMENTS.

Who is more likely to raise their voice?

Ava 100% — she’s the hot-headed one whereas Cecilia hardly ever raises her voice

Who threatens to leave but never actually does?

I mean as a joke? Cecilia, but she never means it lol

Who actually keeps their word and leaves?

Neither, unless you count Ava continuously pulling away at first

Who trashes the house?

Cecilia, cleaning is not her forte. She’s so used to living alone so she gets to it when she gets to it

Do either of them get physical?

Physical?? Like fighting or sex? Fighting, no, unless they’re sparring. Sex, yes lol

How often do they argue/disagree?

Oh man, often. Ava is lucky her hair doesn’t grey because of Cecilia’s impulsive behavior, which is the subject of the majority of their arguments. That and Cecilia’s safety.

Who is the first to apologize?

Depends on what the argument was about. Usually, it’s Ava though.

SEX.

Who is on top? Who is on bottom?

Lmao Ava is a top, she gives me service top vibes. Cecilia is a bratty bottom <3

Any kinks?

Ava likes to be in control and Cecilia likes to be controlled in bed. They’re not above using restraints like handcuffs or silk ribbons, in fact, Cece really enjoys it.

Who has the strangest desires?

Definitely Cece, kinky bastard.

Who’s dominant in bed?

Ava, hands down. There’s only a handful of times Cecilia completely takes the lead.

Is head ever in the equation?

Always.

If so, who is better at performing it?

Cecilia until Ava gets back in the swing of things. She had a 900-year break on sex whereas Cecilia is sexually active...often.

Ever had sex in public?

Cecilia has with others but Ava hasn’t. The farthest Ava would go is probably car sex deep in the relationship.

Who moans the most?

Cecilia, Ava loves it.

Who leaves the most marks?

Ava does, she especially enjoys leaving many in places only the two of them will see.

Who is the more experienced of the two?

Cecilia, I say she’s a whore and I mean it.

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’?

Both, just depends on the day and what mood they’re in. 

How long do they usually last?

I mean they’re gay women and then you have Ava’s seemingly endless stamina (poor cece)

Rough or soft?

Switches off, but usually it’s on the rougher side.

Is protection used?

When necessary

Does it ever get boring?

Ha, lmao, I doubt it.

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex?

Cecilia’s office, the car, maybe the training room.

FAMILY.

Do they plan on having children/or have children?

Absolutely not

If so, how many children do they want/have?

N/A

AFFECTION.

Who likes to cuddle?

Both, although Cecilia is definitely the one that is clingier and more touchy/affectionate.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places?

Cecilia

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?

Honestly, Ava. She likes to always be touching Cecilia. You go 900 years being lonely, it can be hard to keep your hands to yourself. Cecilia loves it.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?

A good couple of hours, Ava especially can’t sit still for super long.

What is their favourite non-sexual activity?

They enjoy sparring and reading together while drinking wine.

Where is their favourite place to cuddle?

In Cecilia’s bed or on the sofa with Cecilia in Ava’s lap.

SLEEPING.

Who snores?

Neither

If both do, who snores the loudest?

N/A

Do they share a bed or sleep separately?

If Cecilia had it her way, they would. When Ava does sleep, they do.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart?

Snuggling, always. Ava is a Cece magnet whether she likes it or not. Although, I don’t think she would have it any other way.

What do they wear to bed?

Cece likes her lacey nightgowns and Ava’s t-shirts. Ava wears pajama pants and a t-shirt or tank top.

Are either of them insomniacs?

Does Ava count as one?

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside?

No.

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?

Cece either snuggles into Ava’s side or is practically on top of her.

Who wakes up with bed hair?

Cecilia

Who wakes up first?

Ava, Cece is a heavy sleeper and often sleeps in when she can.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other?

Ava :)

What is their favourite sleeping position?

Cecilia likes to be curled up on her side next to Ava and buried under blankets.

Do they set an alarm each night?

Cecilia does. Sometimes Ava is her alarm when they both have to work, but usually she just uses the one on her phone.

Who has nightmares?

They both do, but Cecilia’s tend to be worse from the recent trauma from Murphy.

Can a television be found in their bedroom?

Nope

Who has ridiculous dreams?

Cecilia

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed?

Cecilia, only because she snuggles up to Ava no matter where she moves to on the bed.

Who makes the bed?

Ava, Cecilia doesn’t care to.

What time is bed time?

On a good night, midnight, unless Cecilia is working late. Ava hardly ever sleeps so who knows.

Any routines/rituals before bed?

Nothing other than Cecilia’s skin routine. Sometimes she enjoys reading before bed.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?

Cecilia is always grumpy when she wakes up. She needs a solid twenty minutes before you mess with her.

WORK.

Who is the busiest?

Both

Who rakes in the highest income?

Ava probably, getting that good government money.

Are any of them unemployed?

Nope

Who takes the most sick days?

Cecilia since Ava doesn’t get sick.

What are their jobs?

Cecilia is the lead detective of Wayhaven and human liaison to the Agency.

Ava is the Commanding Agent of Unit Bravo of the Agency.

Who sucks up to their boss?

They both do. Ava does more though. Cecilia and the Captain just get along.

Who is more likely to turn up late to work?

Cecilia, it drives Ava nuts.

Who stresses the most?

Ava probably, Cecilia jumping headfirst into everything and her lack of concern for her own safety stresses her out.

Do they enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?

They both enjoy their jobs.

Are they financially stable?

Yes!

HOME.

Who does the washing?

They do it whenever it needs done. Really it’s whoever gets to it first.

Who takes out the trash?

Both do

Who does the ironing?

Cecilia since she wears pressed pants and pretty blouses so she has to iron them to avoid wrinkles. She wouldn’t be caught dead in wrinkly clothes.

Who does the cooking?

Cecilia does. I KNOW in my heart Ava’s English ass cooks the blandest food LMAO

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying?

Cece, not from cooking but more so forgetting she has a candle burning or something.

Who is messier?

Cece, but it’s not in a way that’s out of hand.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty?

Cece.

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor?

When she’s exhausted, Cece will leave her clothes on the floor at night and eventually pick them up.

Who forgets to flush the toilet?

Ew? Neither.

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?

Cecilia is horrible with losing things, especially keys.

Who answers the telephone?

They don’t share a cellphone.

Who mows the lawn?

You really think Cecilia is going to live in a house in the suburbs with a lawn to mow?

Who does the vacuuming?

Cecilia mostly

Who does the groceries?

Cecilia does, Ava tags along to carry the bags to show off how strong she is.

Who takes the longest to shower?

100% Cecilia. She likes to take her time, usually putting on her very own concert.

Who spends the most time in the bathroom?

Cece. The struggles of being femme.

MISCELLANEOUS.

Is money a problem?

No

How many cars do they own?

Cece’s car. I know she has an old hatchback in canon but in my heart she has an old, red Subaru like the good lesbian she is. 

What’s their song?

Hmmmmm You’re Gonna Miss Me by Connie Francis, Hold You in My Arms by Ray LaMontagne, and Lost Without You by Freya Ridings.

Do they live in the city or in the country?

I don’t know what you’d classify Wayhaven, but it’s a small town.

Do they own their home or do they rent?

Cecilia rents her apartment whilst Ava lives in the Warehouse.

Do they enjoy their surroundings?

Very much so.

What do they do when they’re away from each other?

Cecilia spends her free time hanging out with Tina or Farah (her bffs) or working. Ava works and probably trains.

Where did they first meet?

Rebecca, Cece’s mom, introduces her to Unit Bravo.

Who spends the most money when out shopping?

Cecilia, she’s big on fashion and enjoys clothes.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets?

Cece would, mostly with jewelry.

Any mental issues?

Nothing other than Cecilia’s anxiety.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over?

If Ava ever tripped in front of her, I think Cecilia would lose her mind laughing. Ava thinks it’s amusing when Cece trips when she knows she’s safe.

Who’s terrified of bugs?

Neither of them.

Who kills the spiders around the house?

Neither of them like to kill them. Cecilia mostly lets them be and Ava will put them outside.

Do they have any fears for their future?

Ava is constantly scared for Cecilia’s safety, and although she wouldn’t admit it, she’s frightened of being alone for another 900 years. Cecilia is terrified of losing Ava. There’s nothing she wants more than to spend eternity with Ava.

Their favourite place?

They enjoy spending time together in Cecilia’s apartment. It’s a place where they can be alone with no interruption.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?

Ava would surprise Cece

Who pays the bills?

They don’t share bills

Who’s the tallest?

Ava towers over Cece by 8 or 9 inches.

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?

Oh, Cecilia. Ava is quick in the shower so Cecilia needs to plan accordingly. She enjoys jumping in the shower with her.

Who wanders around in their underwear?

Cece likes to lounge in her underwear and a robe. Ava finds that out the hard way when popping in for a visit lmao

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio?

Cecilia and it’s almost always songs that drive Ava nuts.

What do they tease each other about?

Ava knows how to get Cecilia flustered and does it every now and then by making an innocent enough move before dropping it altogether. Cecilia teases Ava for being grumpy and wound up so tight. Also her clothing choices.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?

Cecilia’s mortal enemies are Ava’s cargo pants.

Who crushed first?

I like to think they’re both romantics and follow the love at first sight trope. Cecilia was just more forward about her feelings.

Any alcohol or substance-related problems?

Nope

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am?

It’s happened once or twice to Cecilia after a night with Tina.

Who swears the most?

Ava doesn’t swear really, Cecilia thinks it’s spices conversations up.

[frostmarris]

Day 5: Thieves & Outlaws | Shapeshifters

Pairing: Deidara/Sakura Haruno/Hidan, Deidara/Hidan

Rating: Teen & Up

Content Warning: a couple of foul mouthed bois

Additional Tags: Modern Magic (magic is secret), Supernatural Creatures, Urban (but actually Rural) Fantasy, Bakery AU, Established Relationship, country roads take me home

Summary: Deidara returns home for the first time in nearly a decade and finds everything just as he remembers it - except for that bakery. Hidan is convinced the pink-haired owner isn't human and they're determined to find out what she's hiding.

Notes: fic #3 and my final entry for the @naruto-fantasy-week ! the thieves and outlaws part applies more to the fic as a whole than this first chapter tho

Slightly different format for this one since tumblr refuses to allow my posts to show up in tags. Links to ffnet and ao3 will be in a reblog!

Enjoy!

whitewoods - chapter one

“So, what - were you, like, a total ‘Children of the Corn’ or some shit growin’ up?”

“First of all, it’s totally the wrong climate for corn here, yeah. Secondly, it was more like tin foil hats and aliens than blood sacrifices.”

At Hidan’s dry look, Deidara laughs and leans back in the driver’s seat, one hand on the steering wheel of the old hatchback and his free arm hanging out the window.

“I’m still reelin’ from finding out that you’re a fucking country bumpkin, Dei. You told me you were from,” Hidan raises his hands, shaking them and hunching his shoulders as he shoots the blond a sarcastic look, “The big city and all that jazz.”

“I was living in a city before we met, hm,” Deidara answers, swapping hands on the wheel and reaching over to smack Hidan’s jazz-handing hands when they drift closer to his face, “I just happened to live in a small town in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere before that.”

He slows down as the winding road running along the side of the mountain - (“We’re not that high up, Hidan, you coward.”) - splits into two at a fork. There had been mountain on both sides of the road for the past hour, a nearly vertical rock wall to their left and a sloped but steep drop to their right, with a river winding through the bottom of the crevice some hundred feet below before the ground climbs back up to form another mountain ridge.

Hidan hadn’t been too excited about being on the side with the drop, but Deidara’s reassurance that at least he’d be unlikely to get crushed immediately by falling rocks had done little to comfort him.

The fork came at an plateau where the mountain seemed to finally back off and give more room for a level, forested area, with the left path heading into the woods. The right path, however, curved outwards and lead downward slightly before feeding onto an old bridge that crossed the shortest gap between the two mountain ridges, a still-considerable drop down to the river running under it. They could see the bridge below from their vantage point, even with a few trees standing in the way - just barely wide enough for two cars at a time and at least four cars long.

“You’re fucking joking ,” Hidan hisses as Deidara heads right, fully turning towards him in his seat. The blond laughs and nearly gets his hand bit when he reaches over to pat Hidan's head.

“Relax , Evel Knievel. The bridge has been around since before I was even born, yeah.” 

“That’s not fuckin’ reassuring,” He mutters in response, sitting back in his seat - spine straight, shoulders stiff, and magenta eyes on the rocky road. The path down winds only a little before it levels out and curves outward even more to approach the bridge, cliffsides and sheer drops momentarily replaced by trees and bushes.

Hidan only realizes they’re on the bridge when the sound of gravel and rocks under the hatchback’s tires gradually gives way to the softer rumble and groans of wooden planks and metal supports. They break through the trees to suddenly reveal the open air of the bridged gap between ridges and Hidan’s hand jumps up to the ceiling handle above his door, knuckles white as he grips it like it’ll save his life.

His gaze drifts to his right even as his head stays completely forward - until Deidara cackles and his glare darts to the blond, still sitting all relaxed with an arm out the window and one hand on the wheel.

“Hand off the Jesus Handle, yeah. I’m not gonna drive us off the side and hurtling down to our deaths.” Deidara grins and nods to the stretch of bridge ahead. “There’s railings and I’m barely pushing 15, hm. An eager turtle could beat us to the other side.”

“I’ll fuckin’ let go when you put both of your damn hands on the shittin’ wheel, dickhead.”

Hidan’s grumble earns him another laugh but Deidara relents and pulls his arm out of the window, both hands on the steering wheel as they cross the bridge. The relief on Hidan’s face is clear as day when they make it to the other side and he slumps back with a sigh, side-eyeing the blond when he cackles again.

“If I’d known you were afraid of heights, I wouldn’t have asked you to come with me, yeah.”

“I’m not afraid of heights,” He huffs, grabbing the pack of cigarettes in the glovebox. “I just don’t trust infrastructure built by fuckin' country bumpkins."

Deidara rolls his eyes but leans over as he offers him one, both hands still on the wheel and the cigarette between his lips as Hidan digs his lighter out of his pocket. Taking a drag once it’s lit, Deidara returns to his relaxed position again and follows the road as it winds through the woods and gradually begins to slope downwards.

The scenic peace of the mountain forest is rather ruined by the metal music blaring out the open windows of the beat-up car - which adds to the cacophony with its own grinds and grunts - and the pair make idle conversation as they travel, Hidan eventually opening up his fifth soda of the day. He unbuckles long enough to turn in his seat, get his knees under him, and dig around in the back to grab the rest stop sandwiches they’d bought before they entered truly bum-fuck nowhere that morning.

He opens the plastic wrap around Deidara’s enough for the blond to get to the bread and chicken salad before passing it over and starting on his own mini Italian sub.

"So, why do you have to be the one to get your old man's shit in order?" Hidan asks around ciabatta and salami, flicking a crumb out his window. "Aren't there fuckin' people for that?"

Deidara grimaces and takes a long sip from his energy drink before he answers. "Apparently he left everything to me in his will, hm."

Eyebrows raised, Hidan turns and gestures at him with his sandwich. 

"Wasn't it, like, a decade since you had last spoken to the old fuck?"

A shrug and a nod and the car takes a left turn onto a road that Hidan hadn't even spotted through the brush. The trees thin out and the road curves and the ground starts to gradually disappear to their left side and rise on their right until they're traveling along a cliffside again, but mirrored to earlier. This road seems even more rocky and rough than the other but, fortunately, it doesn't last long until Hidan can see the opening to a tunnel ahead.

He sends Deidara one last skeptical look, inwardly hoping they weren't lost, before they enter the tunnel and begin to cut through part of the mountain rather than travel along it. Deidara turns down the music a bit as it echoes almost jarringly through the passage, soon flicking on the high-beams and taking another bite of his sandwich. The road isn't perfectly straight so it's a while before they can see the light at the other end. While Hidan isn't sure exactly how much ground they'd covered through the tunnel, since the road seemed to serpentine a lot, he's still surprised when they break out into the open air again and, once again, there's a rock wall on Deidara’s side and a drop on his own.

He feels like they're right back where they'd started before the bridge, but his snarky comment is cut short when he looks out his window and sees the valley below.

Some of the trees are still bare from the winter - it's not quite spring yet, so cold but not cold cold - and most of the ones that have leaves make canopies that are mostly yellow, dappled here and there with bright green and light brown. White peeks out from under the treetops  in spots and Hidan would have thought it was snow if he hadn't known any better. The valley stretches out into the distance before the edges of the mountain ranges begin to creep upwards once more around it, a few gently sloping hills transforming into steeper inclines but backing off before the mountain can fully enclose the forest. There's an odd 'bald spot' on the other side - not the exact opposite point from the tunnel's exit, but a fairly long stretch of forest between the spot and their current position - where the trees thin slightly before disappearing entirely. 

It climbs up the hills a ways, carving out a noticeable patch, and, if Hidan looks really hard, he's pretty sure he can see tiny buildings in the far far distance.

The road leading out of the tunnel begins to almost immediately slope downwards. Not too steeply, but definitely noticeable. It runs along the mountainside in a long, winding serpentine, doubling back on itself several times to make the climb from the tunnel to the valley less of a sheer drop.

Hidan doesn't realize he'd been practically hanging out the window to get a look at the valley until the hatchback takes one of the turns and he finds himself facing the other way. He nearly climbs across Deidara to look out his side and the blond laughs, shoving him back into his seat.

"I thought you didn't want the drop on your side, yeah?"

Snorting, Hidan sits back and takes a large bite out of his sub. "Shut that damn smug mouth of yours and drive."

Deidara’s amusement drifts out the open windows of the car until he returns his attention to his sandwich and turns the music back up, sending a few startled birds into the air.

: :

They finally make it down into the valley proper and Hidan nearly shoves his face against the windshield as the view of an ocean of yellow leaves dotted with green, brown, and the occasional white suddenly changes to pillars of bright white and black spots. The white extends deep, deep into the forest, with a sea of green from the grass and underbrush below, a canopy of yellow above, and splotches of leaves from lower branches appearing here and there in the middle.

A dirt and gravel road cuts through the forest, managing a straight path for a while before it eventually begins to wind like all the other roads. The trees are thin and gangly but tall and sturdy and Hidan eventually sends Deidara an admittedly curious look, ignoring the blond's amused grin.

"What kinda trees are these anyways?" He asks before quickly adding a overly-disinterested, "They look fucking weird."

"Birch, hm."

"What is that? The new betch ? I was just asking a fucking question, you asshat-"

"No!" Deidara laughs, cutting him off. "Birch ! They're birch trees!"

Hidan's eyes narrow at him before he looks out his window again, regarding the white trees skeptically. The further into the forest they drove, the more densely packed the trees grew, making it hard to see anything other than the white and black of their trunks and the green of the forest floor - the scene only broken by the brown of the road ahead.

"They're one of the only good things about my hometown, yeah," Deidara says after a stretch of silence, downing the last of his energy drink. "Not the best for climbing, but they look cool as shit."

"They look like they're covered in eyes," Hidan says watching the trees as they pass by. The knots and bumps along the trunks are accented by the black markings, some curved and spotted just right that they look like eyes, gazing at them as they travel through the woods.

"Fuckin' creepy," Hidan adds, despite the amused smile on his face.

Deidara nods in agreement and they drive in silence for a while, the road taking them over a few hills and back down before, eventually, taller and hardier trees begin to intermingle in the sea of birch. The trees are still densely packed and make it difficult to see what lays ahead but, finally, they open up to reveal the town.

The treeline circles around the town, following the dips and curves of its edges, and climbing up the start of the mountain a ways before the birch trees are fully replaced with more stereotypical woods - spruce, oak, balsam, pine. There's several levels to the town as it rises and falls with the hills and Hidan wouldn't be surprised if there were houses higher on the mountainside, looking out over the valley. While there only seems to be one main road - which has finally become paved and easier riding - leading into the town, it soon begins branching off to spiderweb out, winding out of sight as buildings block the view.

Deidara stays on the main road for a while before he finally turns onto one of the side paths, back onto a gravel road that leads into a residential area. Each time Hidan thinks they're about to arrive at his childhood home, Deidara keeps on driving, passing homes and trees until there's more of the latter than the former.

The road heads upwards and Hidan sends the blond a raised eyebrow as they rise into the hills around the valley, green and brown trees cutting off their view again. There's a few dirt roads that branch off from their current one, heading deeper into mountainside woods, and most of which are barred by gates connected to rustic fences, overgrown by brush.

Finally, Deidara turns onto one of the dirt paths and they climb a little higher still before the ground levels out, the trees still dense until it finally opens up again after an almost ten minute drive. There's a rather rundown fence running the perimeter of the main yard and the house looks like a cross between a cabin from a slasher movie about a summer camp in the mountains and something out of a '50s show about moonshiners.

There's other, more in-shape fencing stemming from the yard making enclosures for a few various farm animals with smaller sheds of their own and what looks like a path leading behind the house to a more open area, likely with a garden and crops. The gate to the front yard is open and Deidara drives right through, parking the hatchback in a spot to the left where the grass is worn down and bare from constant use.

The pair exit the car and Deidara stretches while Hidan turns to stare out over the property, eventually turning to look at his companion.

"Holy shit," He says, earning him a raised eyebrow from Deidara. "You are a damned country bumpkin!"

Deidara shoots him a glare and moves to open the back of the car. 

"Bullshit, yeah. Like hell I am."

Hidan points an accusatory finger at him, shouting loud enough to startle some chickens in a nearby coop.

"Fucking mountain hick farm boy! "

"You shut your damn mouth, hm. "

He gestures to the damning evidence behind them, arms spread out wide while Deidara grabs their bags from the trunk.

"Look at all these animals! This is a fuckin' farm !"

The blond throws a duffel bag at Hidan's face and crosses his arms, looking unamused.

"Like hell it is, yeah. There's just some goats and chickens and a couple sheep and... some pigs out back... and a few ducks…" Deidara’s assured tone starts to waver as he looks away, expression growing slightly strained and concerned. "And I did have a pair of rabbits when I was ten, and the cow…" 

Hidan makes a slightly strangled, horrified sound and Deidara quickly tries to recover. 

"But the old man sold it years ago, yeah! That's it! Mostly just goats and chickens, hm! Not a farm."

As if on cue, there's a honk from the right side of the yard and the two look to see a large white bird in the chicken corral, walking the edge of the fence.

"Is that a fucking goose. "

"L-listen, hm-"

"Only ponds in shitty public parks and farms have gooses!"

"Geese."

"Farm boy! " Hidan shouts, hurling the duffel bag back at him and throwing his arms into the air as he turns away.

"I've been living with a total Ma and Pa , overalls and fuckin' straw hat, "Princess Bride" bullshit farm boy !" He laments, slapping a hand on the roof of the car and sending the blond a betrayed look. "I thought you were cool. "

Deidara rolls his eyes and hefts the second bag onto his shoulder before closing the hatchback.

"Hey, the "Princess Bride" dude ends up becoming a pirate, yeah."

"His name is Westley, you uncultured swine."

Hidan gets a duffel bag to the face again and then the second bag shoved into his arms while Deidara heads towards the front porch.

"Just quit your whining and help me take the shit inside, hm!"

Hidan snickers under his breath but follows after him, both bags resting on his shoulder as he watches Deidara lift pots of mostly dead and dying plants distributed here and there on the porch.

"Which one was it..?" He mutters to himself before finally letting out a victorious shout as he finds the spare key under the barely-surviving coleus. The squeak and groan of the door is grating as it swings open and the pair enter rather cautiously, expecting to be met with cobwebs and inches of dust.

But the interior of the house is fairly clean and Hidan flicks the lights on - surprised they actually work - before moving to drop the bags on an old-looking couch while Deidara heads left into the kitchen, checking to see if the water was still running.

"Right, yeah," Deidara mutters again after he turns the faucet off and opens the window behind the sink. "It's only been a couple weeks."

"Not much in the fridge," Hidan calls behind him, not even daring to sniff the carton of milk. "How long do you plan on staying again?"

"Just long enough to go through shit, figure out what to keep and what to toss, cancel the utilities, and find a buyer for the animals, hm." He answers, checking the cabinets with a frown. "I'll deal with getting into selling the property some other time."

Hidan leans against the doorframe to the kitchen, arms crossed and eyebrow quirked. "Sounds like at least a week."

Deidara groans and nods, moving past him to plop down on the couch. Hidan soon joins him, making a face at how the couch springs give a high squeak but leaning back as he stretches.

"Couch is only gonna fit one of us," He says with a grunt, laying his arms along the back before craning his neck to look deeper into the house. "I'm sure as fuck not sleepin' on your old man's bed. Where's your room?"

Deidara leans back as well with a sigh and rests his head on Hidan's forearm. "Down the hall, last door on the right. Doubt he kept all my stuff though, yeah. My old mattress is only a twin if it's still around."

They sit there for a little while longer, the door to the quiet house still open to let the fresh air in and the distant sound of the animals outside making a strange but peaceful white noise. The pair eventually get up and search the house, finding that Deidara’s old room had been converted into an office plus home gym of sorts - a desk and chair with an old as balls computer, a few bookshelves, and a stationary bike facing the singular window. 

"There's a camping and hiking store in town, hm," Deidara suggests, thumbing through a few of the books on the shelves. "They should have sleeping bags or somethin'."

Hidan nods and hops onto the exercise bike, testing it out before he glances back. "Gonna need food and a fuckton of trash bags too."

They meander around the house for another ten minutes, checking rooms and struggling to get the door to the attic open before deciding they'll have to wedge it open later with something. Eventually, the pair head back out to the car, Deidara locking the house up and pocketing the spare key before they journey back down into the town. Windows up and their music a little quieter now - it's just past 3 PM and they don't want to piss off the locals just yet - they drive around the town until Deidara remembers where the camping store (and Main Street as a whole) is.

The two of them look entirely out of place in their ripped and worn jeans, leather and bomber jackets, and old band shirts and they earn themselves a few odd looks. But they don't seem too bothered and head into the rustic store, Hidan beelining for the taxidermy bear rising above the racks of insulated clothing.

The other shop patrons send the young men curious stares before the shopkeep, and older, burly man behind the counter, greets them.

"Afternoon, boys. Here to do some, ah... hiking?" He watches Hidan poke and prod the stuffed bear's nose before turning his attention to Deidara as the blond heads towards the counter.

"Nah," Blue eyes scan the walls, looking for a sign for bedding. "Just need to grab a couple sleeping bags, hm."

The shopkeep directs him to the back right corner of the store and Deidara searches through the small selection of sleeping bags while Hidan drifts over to the display of fishing poles. 

Deidara’s weighing his options between two of the most comfortable looking styles before his gaze moves to the nearby shelves and his face lights up in a grin. He quickly returns the sleeping bags to the racks and snatches a fairly large box off the shelf, rushing off to grab Hidan, who quickly nods his exuberant approval at Deidara’s find.

They leave the shop with a couple clean blankets and the air mattress tucked under Hidan's arm, depositing everything in the car before heading down the street to the grocery store. They get mostly essentials but end up messing around in the snack aisle long enough to get more chips than they certainly need before finally heading back, one of the bags of trail mix open and in Hidan’s hands before Deidara can even start the car.

He gets a pretzel thrown into his mouth with frightening precision when he starts to complain and Hidan laughs, offering a rye chip in apology some moments later.

They make it most of the way down Main Street before Deidara is suddenly slamming on the breaks and sending the bag of trail mix flying out of Hidan’s hand and spilling onto the dash.

"What the hell, man! " Hidan shouts, brushing mini breadsticks off his lap while Deidara stares out the windshield. "What was that fo-?!"

"What the fuck, " The blond interrupts, pointing an accusatory finger at the building sat on the corner of the block, right next to the post office, "Is that?! "

Hidan sends him a bewildered look and follows his point to squint quizzically at the small building.

"It... looks like a bakery or some shit?" He looks to Deidara again, incredibly confused. "What the fuck, Dei. You okay?"

Indeed, the building on the corner looked to be a bakery. Clean glass windows out front showcase an array of sweets and breads, mostly whole loaves and a few jarred goods. Outside on the sidewalk are a few bistro tables and chairs, most occupied by townsfolk enjoying sweet treats and steaming cups of what was either coffee or tea. The building stood out from the rest of the rustic Main Street, painted in mismatched colors with shrubs just under the windows blooming with early, pale purple flowers. A white wooden sign hangs out over the street, connected by chains to the awning over the shop's front and swinging slightly in the breeze.

Hidan has to squint, but he's pretty sure it says Flour Hour.

"That used to be the arcade..." Deidara says quietly, making Hidan glance over in surprise. He looks devastated but also vaguely pissed, but he's pulled from his thoughts when a car behind them honks and the pair jump in surprise, quickly moving forward.

"It was, like, the only fun thing to do in town, hm!" He laments, eyes flickering over to the colorful building. "I can't believe some jackass went and turned it into a bakery! "

"Let's pull in and check it out," Hidan suggests as they start to pass the parking spots in front of the bakery, reaching over to nudge Deidara’s shoulder. "Maybe it's a weird combo bakery and arcade. Like those fuckin' KFC-Taco Bell-gas stations."

Lips pursed, Deidara seems to think it over for a few moments before nodding and quickly pulling into one of the open spaces, glaring through the windshield. "Muffins and Mortal Kombat. Right, yeah. I could deal with that."

Hidan grins and the pair hop out. The sweet scent of the flowers out front punches them in the face moments before the smell of coffee and various baked goods greets them, nearly making them reel back in surprise. It's an overwhelming but wonderful smell and they exchange glances before heading inside.

A bell rings over the door as it opens and it's quickly apparent that the Flour Hour isn't a combination bakery-and-arcade. 

There's several more tables and chairs set up inside and along the right side of the shop is a long L-shaped display case, heading into the back corner before turning to connect to the marble counter at the rear of the bakery. It's filled with cakes and bread and sweets and numerous delicious-looking goods - some rustic, some delicate, and some intricate enough to belong in a more upscale patisserie. Behind the back counter is a rather vintage looking coffee maker and a more modern espresso machine, as well as shelves of bags of beans, various tins of tea, a few random mugs, and all the makings of a decent batista setup. Along the right wall are two tall bookshelves filled with rows of jarred jams and honey and tins of spices and herbs, standing on either side of a bay window nook that looks out at the small park at the end of Main Street.

The front end of the shop is rather small, only a little under half of the building’s total as surely the rest is reserved for the bakery itself in the back. It's busy and bustling despite the time of day and all of the small tables are filled with people enjoying their goodies and beverages. A pair of young women are behind the counter, one grabbing muffins from a display case and the other making a cappuccino.

"Oh! Welcome in!" Says a voice suddenly to their right. Hidan and Deidara simultaneously look over to see a woman they hadn't noticed through the window outside, a long paper bag in hand as she grabs one of the loaves of bread in the window.

"Never seen you two before - passing through?" She asks, straightening up and offering them both a smile. "Well, we'll still be open for a bit longer so feel free to have a look at what we have left - the girls behind the counter will help you when you're ready!"

She turns to head towards the back of the shop, offering the bread loaf to a woman at the checkout counter, and Deidara and Hidan stare.

She's beautiful, they both happen to be thinking - bright green eyes, freckles dusted across her soft face, a little shorter than Deidara but a build that suggests she could probably suplex either of them, and long, long soft pink hair pulled back in a braid that swings behind her as she walks. The lovely young woman is dressed in overalls that are splattered in paint at the knees and a long-sleeved striped shirt, green and white. Her apron is dusted with either flour or powdered sugar in the front and they can see colorful socks peeking under the rolled cuffs of her overalls, her shoes also covered in flour.

Deidara blinks, tilts his head slightly, then smiles, nudging Hidan’s arm with his elbow.

"No Pac Man, but I can't bring myself to complain. This place is much better than an arcade, yeah?" He looks up at Hidan when he doesn't reply, an eyebrow raised before his expression turns confused at the intensity behind Hidan’s stare.

Magenta eyes pinned to the pink-haired woman, Hidan's own silver brows are furrowed, a small frown on his face as he seems to be trying to decipher something, never pulling his gaze away even as Deidara prods his cheek with a finger. The blond watches him for a moment before eventually shrugging and moving to head to the cases.

"Well, I'm gonna see what kind of cupcakes they've got, hm."

Hidan’s eyebrows furrow even more before his eyes go wide and bewildered and then alarmed and his hand shoots out to snatch the back collar of Deidara’s jacket, yanking him backwards and quickly dragging him out of the bakery.

His startled, choked shout earns the pair a few curious looks but Deidara soon finds himself being shoved into the passenger seat of the car after Hidan grabs the key out of his pocket, slamming the door and sliding over the hood to quickly hop behind the wheel. Ignoring Deidara’s confused sputters, Hidan quickly backs out of the parking space and heads back to the main road, recalling the way back to the house and driving a little faster than he probably should be. 

"What the fuck was that, man?!" Deidara shouts, managing to right himself in his seat.

"That chick," Hidan starts, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as he stares ahead with a hard look. "She-"

"She was gorgeous, yeah, but just cause you got cold feet doesn't mean you can just drag me out by the scruff and choke the shit outta me!" Grumbling, he reaches up to straighten his collar, shooting the other man a glare. "Dibs by the way. And I really did want one of those cupcakes, hm."

"You don't fuckin' get it ," Hidan hisses under his breath, finally tearing his gaze away from the road to look at Deidara, his expression rather frazzled. 

His own expression turning confused and slightly concerned, Deidara sits back and lets him continue.

"I don't know what the fuck is going on in this Mountain Man bullshit town of yours," He says, reaching up to run a hand through his silver hair. "But that chick back there.."

Hidan turns to look at him again, his gaze hard and his expression dead serious.

"She was not human."

[dawdiiwdaa]

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