#except for that one time we wanted to make beer bread i guess

[tathrin]

Craziest thing you did in college?

I am not sure if this is a mis-aimed ask game or just a random question, but sure okay. Let's see.

Probably it's either the time that we accidentally smuggled beer into our apartment-style dorm the year we got into one of those and were super excited to have an oven (because we literally forgot that being a dry campus meant that it would not be allowed for us to have alcohol in our dorm even though we were intending to use it to bake beer bread from the recipe that the nice folks at the local medieval faire had given us).

Like we literally forgot that it counted as alcohol, because for us it was a Baking Ingredient (despite the fact that we had remembered that I, as the only over-21 in the group, would have to be the one to go and make the actual purchase! we remembered it was alcohol! we just...forgot that it would count as alcohol to the college), until we were pulling into the parking lot in front of the dorms and went "oh fuck, this is BEER! We have to smuggle this into our rooms without getting caught, don't we?"

"Well they probably won't believe us if we say we just want it for bread because who the fuck would believe a bunch of college kids who said they just wanted beer for the bread? And I'm pretty sure they wouldn't let us have beer in the dorms anyway even if they believed it was just for baking. Yeah we're gonna have to smuggle it in, shit. Okay who's got a sweatshirt or something?"

And we successfully got it into the room, and made the beer bread...and then had the rest of a six-pack left-over, so we set it on top of the fridge for later beer-bread-making purposes and forgot about it until we were literally in the middle of a room inspection and I had to ~stealthily~ sprint past the TA while they were in one of the other bedrooms and hide the fucking beer (without making any noise or otherwise being seen to act like I was hiding something!) and stand there sweating hoping the TA wasn't going to look hard enough to find it in the back of a cupboard when they got to the kitchen.

My gods it was a good thing my friends and I didn't ACTUALLY get up to Illicit Shenanigans(TM) when I was in college because we were not good at it holy fuck.

...OR it's the time that my roommate and I both dressed-up in our Twi'lek cosplay (me as Aayla, she as Darth Talon) for a documentary that one of our film student friends was making, and in the middle of the interview portion the three of us decided on a whim that it would be cool to get footage of us lightsaber fighting in the fountain nearby, and had an impromptu duel there which was definitely not legal for us to do or film because we didn't plan ahead and get any permits and they probably wouldn't have allowed us to film in the fountain anyway but we didn't think about that until it was over and the highlight was definitely the completely random luck we had of getting a lens flare off the sun at exactly the moment that one of us fake-stabbed the other with the plastic lightsabers and collapsed backwards into the fountain in the most badass-looking shot in the whole film, you're very welcome random film student.

Also you're very welcome random passerby who paused to watch the fight, but only briefly, because this was Savannah and it was not the weirdest shit that anyone had seen us fucking SCAD kids get up to that week I'm sure.

This wasn't really a crazy thing, by the standards of SCAD to be fair. It was mainly the lack of fountain-filming-permit and the absolute impromptuness of both the absolutely-not-choreographed-but-somehow-seamless-because-we-were-massive-dweebs-who-could-pull-a-lightsaber-duel-out-of-our-asses fight scene and the natural lens flare that makes that incident stick-out.

Anyway, I didn't really have any crazy college experiences. I was just a geek at art school, majoring in comic books. So everything was Very Geek to be sure, but not very "College."

I did put on my nice Ren Faire dress and go down to the dorm communal room my freshman year while I had a MASSIVE fever to participate in an overnight Hobbit/LotR Cartoon Marathon, having never actually seen the cartoons before, and very much fever-dreamed my way through it because my dumbass should 100% have been in bed instead of dressed in a medieval gown sleeping on a pillow on the floor in a big room full of a bunch of strangers.

But while that may be very much a College Student Thing To Do, I still don't think it counts as a "crazy college story" by the standards of which you were probably asking. Sorry.

[slushiepizza]

Lazy Bones

Relationship : Guy & Guy's Dad, Guy & his parents

Tags : Father-Son Relationship, Dysfunctional Family, Mental Health Issues, Angst, Hurt-no-Comfort, Executive Dysfunction, Guy is more similar to his dad than he thought much to his dismay, and he has to grit his teeth and move on Toxic Family Dynamic

Word Count : 1,772

ao3 notes: something something he's gonna make it through this year if it kills him /j; both guy and his father are hinted to have mental health issues that i didn't specify for fear of ruining the immersion, but i do have a specific condition in mind when i wrote them this way

Guy knew what sort of day it was as soon as he woke up that afternoon.

His small dorm room was a vacuum, where time moved both like molasses and the speed of light. The dollar-store curtains did little to keep the afternoon sun away from the room. The AC slowly hummed. He could hear laughter outside- probably people coming back from class. His bones were stationary, and the defeated sort of embrace of the blanket welcomed him like a home. 

He mentally started counting down from ten and forced himself to move. He slowly made his way to the bathroom in the muted darkness, wincing when he accidentally kicked something plastic and sent it skidding across the floor. He’ll get it later. 

Guy found himself in front of the bathroom mirror and recognized what was in his eyes as something pathetic. The look on his face was familiar, and he’d seen that look a million times before. 

He hated what he saw.

—

Small hands slowly nudged a weary shoulder that early June. Everything was hazy in the heat of summer. A talk show- no, a sports program, was playing in the background from the CRT screen. 

“Dad. Daaad. Play with me,” he whined at the fresh age of five. “I’ll be the fire truck, ‘an you’ll be the train.” 

His Dad, a mountain of a man impossible to climb, laid himself against his chair. In that house, everyone shared everything except for that chair in the corner of the living room. That chair was his, and over the years, it’d soon mold itself into the shape of his body and its fabric would be stained with his beer. 

“Why don’t ‘cha bother your mom, instead, huh?” he grunted, unmoving. 

“She’s at the store,” Guy replied. 

“Go outside, or something. Y’know when I grew up, we used to just go to the woods and just. Played with sticks. You young’uns are soft, always need coddlin’ and buggerin’. Can’t even sit still for a second.” 

He looked up at his father’s stubbled, rugged face. Marred by the heat of the sun. “I can do that?!” 

“Sure, son,” the man looked at him with an almost sad sort of look. His labored arm, wiry and thick from long hours at the auto shop, reached out to muss up his hair.  “Your Pa’s… tired.” 

Guy was hunting for bugs in the backyard when his mother came back home from the store and yelled at her husband for letting him get dirty. And for sitting there all day, never doing anything useful. And that she wished that she never married someone who’d give up so easily as him.

He remembered that his father was tired a lot. 

—

Guy did the least he could do. He brushed his teeth and had a single slice of bread for breakfast. Anything is better than nothing, a dear friend told him. He guessed it was right because, on days when he felt like he wanted to let the mattress mold itself to the shape of his body, the only way he could survive was by keeping the ball rolling. A routine- or some form of it. What he did barely counted as one, but it was better than letting himself fall into the trap of falling back asleep. 

He opened the laptop, checked the calendar, and mentally kicked himself. 

The deadline was today. 

Guy liked to believe that he was a capable, competent person. But as soon as he opened the word document to write the last act of his script- a task that he’d put off from days before- his mind was full of noise. 

He craved mind-numbing comfort, so he sought it. He sunk into his chair and scrolled on his phone. In the back of his mind, he felt angry. 

_

Business was rough for the auto shop, and it later closed when Guy was sixteen. His dad never looked for another job- and he soon took his role as a stay-at-home father. 

The arguments soon died down, maybe because his parents had already worn each other out by that point. They barely saw each other anyway- his mother’s job at the hospital as a residential nurse kept it that way. 

His father was itching for control- and home was the only thing close enough to that. 

He was neurotic about where things were supposed to be. The chairs were supposed to be aligned with the floorboards, and Guy has had to sweep the floors multiple times. If a strand of his hair was found- it’d send his father into ballistics. 

Hair was another issue. 

“Isn’t it time for a haircut?” his dad asked as he vacuumed, without ever meeting Guy in the eyes. 

"I like it this way,” he replied. 

“Makes you look like a chick.” 

—

The videos on his phone flashed colors and various soundbites. It felt incomprehensible to him, and his mind fell into the space between awareness and daydream- a thick fog. 

He didn’t feel like catching the deadline. Maybe he should just give up and not do it. He could lie down and not do anything at all. 

“This is how I stayed productive even on days when I was exhausted and didn’t have any motivation. The Eisenhower matrix can help you manage your time-” the YouTube video droned and Guy felt himself slip away. 

He probably was just lazy.  He needed one day to get himself together and he could train himself to have discipline and not rely on motivation, or start time blocking, or start writing bullet journals and get his life together. 

—

Guy grew to realize that he hated his father. Hated the way he seemed to always park himself in front of the TV and not shower for days. Disgusting and good-for-nothing. The way he would only get up to go around the house and make sure that everything was in pristine condition. Unused, untouched. Guy hadn’t eaten in his dining room for ages. 

His father could’ve tried if he wanted to. He could’ve applied for other jobs, could’ve cared more about him. But he wallowed in the unknown frustrating corners of his mind and let days pass him by.

He could see the weight sagging his mother’s shoulders-the exhaustion in her eyes as she picked him up from school before going to her night shift. 

Guy’s biggest fantasy when he was growing up was for his parents to get a divorce. It never came, and in a sick and twisted way, they did need each other to survive. She needed the illusion of a family, and he needed the money.

“Why can’t you do it for me!” he yelled in a particularly heated fight. 

“I’m doing this for you! What do you even want?! For this family to be torn apart and to become the talk of the town?” 

“I don’t need you to stay together when all you do is yell at each other,” he pleaded. 

“You don’t understand,” she said and ended their discussion there. 

—

Before he knew it, it was dark outside and he hadn’t written a single word for his script. The deadline was in five hours, and he was sure that he’d be dropped from the project if he didn’t manage to make it.  

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. A mix of voices rang in his skull: ‘The deadline is in five hours. You’ve done nothing, stupid.’ And ‘maybe you should eat something. You’re hungry, and you’ve only had bread.’ with ‘you should try starting now. You can still fight for this gig. It’s not over yet.’ 

Guy stood up and approached the pile of laundry on the corner of his bed. He mechanically folded them and arranged them in his drawer of clothes. It gave him the feeling that he had his life together. He hated the fact that he had to do such an ordeal just to do basic tasks. Double the effort for half the result. 

Everything felt like a hill he had to climb. Strategies, timers, to-do lists, tricks. It was frustrating, the fact that he was so damaged that he couldn’t straightforwardly do anything. 

Tears started to cloud his vision and all he could do was blink them away in anger. Anger at himself for being affected by people who do not care for him in the slightest (A lie, he will soon realize. They did care- but it was the only sort of care that they understood.) He hated that he was a carbon copy of his father despite having tried so desperately to be different. 

He studied hard in school, and he worked double, and triple shifts at Max’s to support himself. But he couldn’t escape from what he was. This… sickness, the willingness to give up so easily was passed down from his father like a curse. It was in his blood, written in his bones. At the end of the day, he was still his father’s son. 

—

The thing is, his dad did try. Between the narcissist, and the mid-life crisis-ridden man, there were glimpses of what he was underneath it all. What he could’ve been. 

He remembered when it stormed all morning before he had to turn in a science project for freshman year in high school. He’d woken up late, and by the time he was at the bus stop, lugging poster board and styrofoam diagrams in a wheelbarrow behind him, it’d left. 

His father had run to catch up with him with an umbrella. 

“I’ll walk ‘ya to school. Don’t want ‘em to get wet when you’d barely sleep making them.” 

It’d been embarrassing. For someone his age to be walked to school by his dad. But all he noticed was the fact that his father had leaned the umbrella completely over him and the wheelbarrow. He was drenched, and he’d never been too fond of the cold. 

“I can wear my jacket,” he mumbled. “Just tilt it your way. You’re getting wet.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” his dad replied. “The only thing that matters is for you to get to school okay. Get good grades so you don’t become a loser.”

—

Guy wiped his tears and sat himself back down in front of the laptop. He let the all-encompassing, overwhelming mix of anger and sadness run through him. He wasn’t going to fuck it up. He wouldn’t let anything get in the way of the work that he loved doing. He gritted his teeth and did it even when every part of him protested. 

Despite his father, despite his restless mind. 

Despite it all, he’ll die fighting, bruised.

[yunhoez]

Coincide

pairings: timeskip!suna rintaro x f!reader

genre: smut, FLUFF, tiny bit of angst like for 2 seconds, followed by more fluff

warnings: NSFW 18+, swearing, orgasm denial, public sex, breeding, "bunny", not proofread (its 3 am), I think that's it but pls let me know if I missed anything

a/n: this is really self indulgent, I had this thought in the shower and something about my trash ass ex seeing me happy with suna makes my brain go brrrrr. don't worry, I'm working on that in therapy :D anyways this is my first time writing smut, lol bye! hope y'all enjoy!!! <3

There’s no reason to attend a high school reunion with people you never liked nor thought of in years. Meaningless chatter mixed with the stench of beer, while the god awful fluorescent lights sting your eyes didn’t sound appealing to you. Yet here you are, standing against the wall of the poorly decorated banquet hall with a drink you’ve hardly touched. The “Welcome Class of 2017” banner in front of you, reminded you of just how little time has passed since you’ve seen these people. If it were up to you, you would’ve ignored the e-vite and binged a show you’ve seen 100 times already. However, your sweet boyfriend, Suna Rintaro, was so eager to see where you spent your teen years and the people who knew you way before he did. Not that they would have very many stories about you, considering how much you kept to yourself, but that didn’t stop Suna from RSVPing on your behalf.

“I fucking hate you.” you spat, taking a sip of your drink, wincing at the strength.

“I know.” suna smirked, handing you his beer and taking your drink for himself.

The both of you stood close together, watching people fein happiness at the sight of each other. What was the point in attending these events if not to show off how much better you’re doing to people who no longer matter to you, if they ever did that is. Suna nudged you lightly, motioning towards a group of people coming toward the two of you.

“Hey! I didn’t think you’d be here!”

“Yeah! Me neither!” you giggle, shooting a glare towards Suna who’s already grinning at you.

Suna knows you hate small talk, but something about seeing you perk up at the memories you’ve seemingly forgotten made him feel warm inside. Although you never wanted to admit it, you missed the people who made your teen years a little less terrible. Suna wrapped his arms around your waist, settling his chin onto your head, as the two of you listened to your friends reminisce about your antics.

“I’m telling you, this girl was in detention every single day!”

“Don’t act like you weren’t there with me!” you huffed, feeling Suna’s chest rumble with laughter. No one had ever taken much interest in your life, except for Suna. It was safe to say you had no idea how to react to his attentiveness when it came to you. You looked up at him, watching how he was soaking in the memories of you, that he didn’t get to witness. He smiles widely at the thought of you picking at your chicken sandwiches, only for you to eat the bread and call it lunch.

You notice the crinkle in his eyes, as he catches you in photos on the projector screen. You cover your face, a blush creeping onto your cheeks, as everyone awes at their younger selves. Suna grabs hold of your hands and pulls them down from your face, placing a kiss on your cheek.

“You know if I went to your school, I would’ve been afraid of you.”

“Says the one who looks bored out of his mind all the time.” you tease him, your gaze still fixed on the dimly lit screen.

“Guess we’re soulmates then.” he hums into your ear, tightening his grip around your waist.

The night went by smoothly, well as smooth as it can get when you’re surrounded by people who most definitely hated each other. Suna leads you to the bar, ordering a round of shots for the two of you.

“If we’re going to be here, we might as well take advantage of the open bar.” he grins, pouring salt onto your hand and handing you the tiny glass.

“I’m sure that’s the only reason so many people showed up.” you respond, licking the salt and downing the burning liquid. Suna brings a lime wedge to your lips, you suck on it lightly as he watches you intently. He brings it to his own mouth, draining the remainder of the juice before neatly folding it in a napkin.

“So what’s the story with those two over there?” he motions to the couple arguing a few feet from you.

“Them? They always do that, one minute they’re in love and the next they’re having a Twitter war.” you say, signaling the bartender for another round.

“Does that mean we’ll get to read some drama tonight?” Suna perks up, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. You giggle, clinking your glasses together and savoring the tequila running through you quicker than you expected.

“Already feeling it, pretty?”

“Pft. No, I’m just feelin’ fuzzy.”

Suna turns you to face him, his eyes starting to glaze over from the drinks. Everything around you feels hazy, but his touch is amplified as he taps on your lips to open. He wedges the lime into your mouth, gaze fixed on the way you swallow the tart juice and pucker your lips. Placing the fruit in his glass, he attaches his lips to yours, groaning at the mix of your sweetness and the sour taste of citrus. The lingering taste of tequila was replaced with his own, your body getting drunk off of him more so than the alcohol. He places his hand onto the small of your back, pressing you into him and eliminating any space between you two. A firm poke to your thigh was enough for you to have you moan softly into his mouth. He pulls away, a string of saliva connecting you two before snapping back onto his lips. He licks them, relishing in the haze of love and need he feels for you.

“Bathroom. Now.” he demands, throwing a wad of cash onto the bar and pulling you with him. A smile plastered on your lips as you follow close behind him, stumbling on your platforms.

The two of you stumble into the men’s bathroom, small giggles falling from your lips as Suna trips over his own foot before locking the door. You lift yourself up onto the counter, feeling the cold tile on your thighs and leaning against the mirror. Suna nudges your legs apart with his thigh, slipping in between them and running his hands up your short dress, peppering kisses along your neck.

“God, I love you.” he mumbles, pulling you closer to him and smashing his lips against yours. Your hands find their way to his hair, pulling at it slightly as he deepens the kiss and moans into your mouth. His grip on your ass tightens, before he makes his way between your legs. He lifts your dress and shoves your panties to the side, staring at the mess he’s caused.

“Always so wet for me, bunny.” he whispers into your core, placing a light kiss onto your clit. You whimper at the minimal contact and he grins, flattening his tongue and licking a stripe between your folds, savoring the taste he could never get enough of. “Fuck..” he moans, the cold metal of his ring clad fingers pumping into you slowly. The sinful moans of his name leave your mouth with no shame, the sound of him devouring you and your screams were sure to be heard from the hallway.

“Rin…” you moan out, your thighs tightening over his head as he continues to suck on your clit.

“You need me, baby?” he asks, looking up at you through his thick lashes. His honey eyes dripped with lust, as he moved his slick covered fingers to rub your clit. The small, tight circles cause your thighs to shake. “Answer me, pretty.”

“R-Rin… need you.” you stutter, feeling the familiar warmth in your stomach building up. You were so close, his fingers entering you once again and curling into your sweet spot. He grins at you, his face wet from your cunt, as he leans to press a kiss to your swollen lips. “Rin! I’m-”

“I know, baby. I got you.” he coos, going in and out of you faster. Just as you were about to reach your high, his fingers slip out of you. A mischievous grin plastered on his face, as he sucks on his fingers. You groan, covering your face and pressing your thighs together. “Ah… Ah…” He pushes your thighs apart with his body, unbuckling his belt and pulling himself out. “Thought you needed me?” He pouts, pumping himself slowly.

“I- Rin. Please, I was so close-” you whine, eyes pressed to his thick cock near your entrance.

“Spit on it.” you obey him, pursuing your lips to let the liquid fall onto his dick. He pumps himself, moaning and grabbing your face with his other hand. “Now tell me, pretty. What do you need?”

“Y-you.” you whisper, looking up at him with wide eyes as you unbutton his shirt. He places a sloppy kiss on your lips, breathing heavily when your cold hands replace his as you jerk him off. “Bend over for me.” His dark eyes watched you scramble off the counter, slipping your panties off and leaning over the sink. Your pretty face in the mirror looking back at him with pleading eyes as he rubs his cock against your cunt. He moans, pushing into you slowly, throwing his head back when he bottoms out. He stills, basking in the warmth of your plush walls.

“Fuck, Rin, move.” you huff, trying to relieve yourself.

“Am I not allowed to enjoy the moment?” he responds, gripping onto your hips tightly.

“Yeah, but- Fuck!” you moan at his sharp thrusts, a smile tugging at his lips as he pulls you back and forth on his dick. “Sorry, bunny. Couldn’t wait.” Your eyes roll into the back of your head, the steady pace of his thrusts driving you close to your peak once again. You reach your hand down to your clit, but Suna slaps your hand away. You look up at him in the mirror, his loving eyes boring into you, as he rubs at your clit in fast circles.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well, baby.” he praises, his head falling back, letting his moans get louder the closer he gets. “Gonna cum in you, fill you up, and make you a pretty mama.”

“Fuck- Suna, don’t- WHAT THE FUCK?” you scream, feeling the fullness of his dick leave your dripping cunt.

“Who the fuck is Suna?” he giggles to himself, his dick grinding in between your folds at an agonizingly slow pace.

“Rin, c’mon- shit!” you bite your lip, your walls clenching around him as he kneads your ass.

“Good girl.” he coos, one hand on your hip and the other pulling your dress down to let your breast fall out. He moans, gripping at the soft flesh. “You gonna let me cum in you, baby?”

“Yes, fuck… don’t stop.” you hum, your brain starting to fog up as you near your release.

“S-shit, ‘M gonna.” he hisses, feeling your walls clench as you ride out your orgasm. Your fucked out expression and loud screams of his name was enough to have him spilling into you. He moans out your name, leaning over you and pressing a kiss to your shoulder, before pulling out and watching him spill out of you.

“You’re lucky I’m on the pill.” you pant, looking up at the mirror to him snapping a photo of the two of you. “Rin!”

“What? It’s a good memory!” he defends, taking several photos from different angles before lifting you up and setting you down on the counter. He shoves himself back into his pants, tucking his shirt and buckling belt before averting his attention to you. Your arms wrap around his neck as he kisses you softly, mumbling sweet words into your lips. He breaks away to dampen a towel, wiping you down as you scroll through the many pictures he took. A loud knock breaks the atmosphere, followed by annoyed screams.

“Have some fucking decency, some people need to use the bathroom!”

You both look at each other, laughing loudly before putting yourselves together. Suna adjusts his shirt, leaving the top buttons open and ruffling his hair. You slip into your underwear, smoothing out your dress and reapplying your lipstick. He gives your ass a light slap before opening the door and exiting, his eyes flicker between the couple outside. Suna’s lips twitch, realizing who the man leaning against the wall is. A smug expression spreads across his face, as he reaches his hand out for you.

“Sorry your sex life’s so boring.” he grins. You grasp his hand, walking out and nodding to the couple, recognizing the familiar set of eyes that you once adored.

“Sorry about that, bathroom's all yours.”

You squeeze Suna’s hand twice, a signal the two of you made up for when you’re feeling anxious. He quickly wraps his arm around your waist, pressing you into his side and placing a soft kiss onto your head. He hums quietly, leading the two of you out of the banquet hall and out to the garden. You stop at a bench, overlooking the city. The soft chirps of crickets and Suna’s intoxicating scent grounds you, a sense of relief washing over you.

“Fuck high school reunions, can’t believe you wanted to come here.” he jokes, pulling you onto his lap and holding you.

“Oh, shut up. You loved every minute of it.” you nuzzled into his chest.

“Particularly the bathroom part.” he hummed. “You okay?”

You sighed happily into his chest, nodding in response.

“So, tell me, what did the side bang do for you?”

“Shut the fuck up, Rintaro.” you hiss, getting up from his grasp, only for him to pull you back and attack your neck with kisses. Your laugh fills his ears, followed by your small fists punching his arm lightly in an attempt to get him to stop tickling you. A blush creeps onto his cheeks, the overwhelming feeling of love feels his body. He pauses his attack, your love laced insults about how irritating he could be was music to his ears. You’d never admit it to Suna, but you were glad he dragged you here. Seeing how his usual deadpan expression changed every time you were talked about made your heart swell. Maybe these things weren’t that bad, as long as he was by your side.

reblogs/likes appreciated <3

[wisewidow]

Hello, Your Parents Want Me To Have Your Babies

PAIRING: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

SUMMARY: Melina, my workplace’s neighbour, wants to set me up with her daughter.

I'd only ever hear about Natasha every couple of weeks, when her adoptive father, the mechanic that owned the garage workshop beside my father's cafe slash bar, met up with my uncle for beers one day last year. Ever since then, our families have been loosely intertwined, friendly but not too close. Alexei fixed my mom's wrecked car for a cheap price, in return I let his youngest daughter Yelena have free coffees whenever she pops over.

From what my father told me, Alexei's entire family, including his wife, were all involved in the family business of repairing cars, except for his eldest daughter: Natasha, who turned out to be an FBI agent living in Quantico. Dad says they're proud of her but they miss her.

"(Y/N)," my brother calls from the kitchen. I put down my phone and find him balancing three plates of sandwiches and a salad in his spindly arms.

He opens his mouth to explain the orders, but I cut him off.

"Alexei," I say, pointing to the bacon and egg sandwich. "A salad for Melina. The tuna and tomato roll is Yelena's. Did they want drinks?"

Peter nods. "Four coffees and a large bottle of water, they already have them."

I ruffle his hair to thank him and grab the plates, balancing the third on my forearm until I can place it on a tray. I carry it outside, years of waitressing practice keeping it balanced, and head towards the garage.

"Melina?" I call. Moments later the raven haired woman slips out of the office and smiles. She yells something in Russian that causes Yelena to slide out from under a silver BMW, covered in black grease. Alexei appears moments later wielding a spanner.

They hound me for their orders, gratefully patting my shoulder and carrying their food away to their separate stations. Yelena disappears into the shadows with her sandwich, and her father to his desk, but Melina simply brightens and says, "(Y/N), have you heard? Natalia is visiting."

"Yes!" Alexei yells around a mouthful of bread. "Family, reunion! Grandbabies!"

Melina hisses something in their mother tongue. I laugh, and then ask if Natasha was bringing her kids, though I wasn't aware she had any.

"He means nothing of it, Natalia is focused on work at the moment. Too focused, I think. No babies. No partner."

"Tell her about her penthouse!" Alexei encourages.

Melina flaps a hand at him in irritation. "Yes, well, she has broken up with Bruce, the shy scientist from work. And then Sharon, charming field operative, also from work. And now she refuses to date. Because of work."

I chuckle nervously. "Where are you going with this?"

Melina smiles innocently. "Nowhere. What happened to your last girlfriend, again? Your father mentioned something about . . ."  The look in her eyes is enough to egg me on, though the subject is one I rarely speak of these days.

Rubbing the back of my neck, I say, "Carol left to travel Europe."

"Shame," she nods sympathetically. "You don't seem bothered. Are you not looking for a relationship?"

"Not actively, but I'm sure another troublemaker will find me. I don't have a good track record of steady relationships," I admit.

"Neither does Natalia!" Alexei shouts.

"Oh!" I say. "Does she want Carol's number? Or my friend Harley, she's not looking for commitment."

Yelena snickers. Alexei frowns. Melina chuckles. "No, no, Natalia needs someone she doesn't work with, and you need someone serious, and we need grandbabies before we die, since Yelena neglects it."

I flush a bright red. "Grandb— I'm— okay, first of all, neither of us have the equipment for that—"

"Neither did Dad," Yelena pipes up, referring to the fact that she and her sister were adopted.

"Hey!"

"(Y/N)!" Peter calls, rounding the corner. "Ned's coming over to pick me up, we need to finish our physics project. Uncle Ben should be here soon, can you manage the bar until he gets here?"

I jump onto the excuse and yell back affirmation, say a quick goodbye to Melina before speed-walking back to the cafe.

Peter leaves with Ned soon after, and Ben arrives at around the same time. I move to the kitchens while he takes over serving our regulars, as he's friendlier with them than me.

I work on making more sandwiches and tapas meals until four, when my shift ends. I kiss Uncle Ben on the cheek and head home.

The smell of paprikash greets me as I unlock the door to my apartment, which I guess means that my roommate is home. I call out a hello to her and head to the shower.

I groan happily as the hot water rains down on my front. I close my eyes and lean my head back, thinking over how strange the day had been, and lose myself in a trance of relaxation.

"(Y/N/N)!" Wanda barges in. I jump and almost slip grabbing the shower curtain to cover my body as I peek out at her.

"I'm naked," I hiss.

She ignores me and holds up two clothes hangers. "Pantsuit or dress?"

I push my wet hair out of my face. "Uh, are you bar-hopping with Vision or going to a family dinner?"

"Get together with some friends," she explains. "Vis, Sam, Steve and some guy named Bucky who I'm informed we're supposed to be pretending Steve isn't in love with, do you know him?"

"Nope."

"Okay, well, he's bringing some friends, so I'm bringing you. Don't make that face, you know almost everyone."

"I don't feel like getting drunk," I complain.

"Good! You can be the designated driver. Pantsuit or dress?"

Grumbling, I tell her, "Dress."

"Okay, thanks, you wear the pantsuit, be ready by seven. May the Force be with you!"

She ducks as I throw my shampoo bottle at her. We bicker and mock and tease as I pat myself dry and she changes into the scarlet dress.  While she braids her hair, I carefully slip into the navy and white striped pantsuit, and we move into her bedroom to make use of her vanity, since the sun's lowering position in the sky shone straight into the window while my room would be encased in dimness by now. I sit in the chair and she leans over me, brushing her eyelashes with delicate mascara.  We fall into our normal going-out-getting-ready rhythm, periodically handing each other different brushes, comparing lipstick shades, and commenting on our days. She tells me about her brother's latest shenanigans and I make the grave mistake of commenting on Melina's attempted set-up earlier today, much to Wanda's entertainment. The two had never met but they both shared the pure ecstasy that came with matchmaking involving me.

"Do you think she's pretty?" Wanda wonders.

"I've seen photos," I shrug. "She's a redhead. Yelena says she changes hairstyles often."

"That doesn't answer my question! Pretty redhead or no?"

"They were baby photos, Wanda! I didn't have an opinion on her looks past the Wonder Woman pajamas."

She hums, and turns to draw a small heart under my left eye with her gel liner pen. "It would be nice if you wound up with her, but if you do fall madly in love with her beautiful red locks and decide to move to Washington to marry her and have her babies, I will murder you. You pay your rent on time and you're fun and please, please do not make me move back in with my brother."

"Why does everyone keep bringing up babies?" I yell.

An hour later we're pulling up to the bar in the back of  a cab arguing about getting a cat. The debate of whose bathroom would host the litter tray is interrupted by Wanda spotting Vision through the window and quickly smacking my arm and hissing at me to hurry up and pay so she can sneak in and scare him. Unfortunately, I can't locate my purse inside my bag.

"(Y/N), (Y/N), go, go, go . . ."

"Wanda, Wanda, going, going, going . . . Aha!" I pay the driver and find myself being ushered inside before I can put my purse back in my bag.

Sam, a friend of Wanda's from college, ends up foiling her evil master plan by pointing her out as soon as she walks in the door. Vision, being a good sport, pretends to be startled when she yells "BOO!" in his ear. As she cackles manically before sliding into the chair beside him, I notice the only free space is by the pretty blonde woman beside a man with brown hair pulled into a bun.

"Oh, look who I dragged out with me!" Wanda exclaims, taking a sip of Vision's drink and making a grand gesture with her hands. "(Y/N)!"

I'm greeted with a chorus of hello's. I bow and grin as I sit by the woman and offer a polite smile. Steve leans over points to the brunet man. "This is Bucky, we were close as friends. As kids. We were close as friends, when we were kids."

Sam snorts into his beer.

Steve clears his throat awkwardly. "And this is his partner from work, Nat."

I get a closer inspection and my eyes widen in shock. "Natalia?"

"Her name is Natasha." Steve corrects.

"I thought her name was Natalie?" Vision frowns.

"She goes by Nat, who cares?" Sam shrugs.

"Natalia Alianovna Romanova?" Wanda yelps. "(Y/N)! You didn't tell me this was the Natalia!"

"The what? I— Do I know you two?" Natasha asks, bewildered.

"Not me!" Wanda says, and then makes a motion for zipping her lips shut.

Everyone turns to me. I chuckle nervously. "I should probably explain. Hi, I'm (Y/N), your parents want me to have your babies."

[anonymousfiction211]

Camping

Summary: Loki and you have been dating for a while. He has planned a suprise camping trip.  Warnings: Smut Word count: 2.255 words A/N: Thanks so much for reading it. Decided to write Loki a little soft this time, since I was feeling romantic. If you have any ideas or suggestions, please let me know :) 

You heard a knock on the door. The clock showed that it was 12.00 p.m. right on time, as usual. Before opening the door, you looked in the mirror of your hallway. You weren’t wearing anything fancy, just a white summer dress with small straps, showing a bit of cleavage. Not too obvious, but in a classy way. You grabbed the doorknob and turned. Loki was standing in front of you with a bouquet of different flowers. When he saw you a big smile on his face appeared.  He handed you the bouquet “you look lovely, darling” he said.

You took the flowers and let him into your apartment. You went to the kitchen to cut the flowers and put them in a vase. Before you did that you smelled them. They smelled wonderful, you felt butterflies swarm through your stomach at the thought that he had remembered that lavender was your favourite flower. “Thanks, do you want something to drink of get going?” you asked him. “Get going, it is a bit of a walk. If you don’t mind” “No of course not, lead the way” You walked outside and you locked up your apartment. When you turned around you saw Loki offering his arm, which you gladly took. “Are you finally going to tell me where we’re going?” you asked. “Do I have to explain the definition of a surprise again to you?” he teased. Loki knew you didn’t like surprises, you were far too curious for that. When he told you, he had a surprise planned for your fourth date you asked so many questions, you were afraid he might leave. But he just laughed at every question you asked him, not giving any hint or sign what he had planned.

Loki laughed at your pouting face and pulled your arm a bit, to have you closed beside him. “Trust me, you’re going to like it” he whispered in your ear. The way his breath felt on your ear made your stomach jump from excitement. “Alright, fine” you fake pouted, giving you a perfect excuse to let your face rest against his upper arm. A thing Loki didn’t seem to mind at all. You walked in silence through the edge of town. That is when Loki led you to a barely visible trail in the woods. “You know the way, right?” you asked him. He gave you a smile “Of course but getting lost with you will be very enjoyable” You walked for about half an hour, making small talk on the way. You told Loki about your week and he told you what he had been up to in Asgard. You laughed hard when he told you that he let Thor think he was a snake for a whole week. And that he exchanged the flagon of beer to non-alcoholic, watching Thor and his friends act like idiots at the end of the night.

He stopped walking and pointed to the woods. “Five more minutes. I apologize, it’s not really a path but it’s manageable” You tried your best to get through it. “You know, my mother always told me not to go with strange men to the woods” “I think if they were as handsome as me, she would let you make an exception” he winked at you, making you blush. The trees started to thin out and you saw a giant lake. There was a blanket spread out with all sorts of food on it, grapes, cheese, jam, bread. Next to the blanket was a tent with the flap open. Inside stood a twin bed with a thick blanket and fluffy pillows. On the inside hung string lights, giving the whole tent a cosy look. Loki stood right behind you, wrapping you in his arms. “Surprise” he said. You were still in awe from the scenery. You turned around so you were face to face with each other. “Loki, this is absolutely amazing! But ehm.. I’m not really a camper and haven’t brought any other clothes” you said.

“I know. I have different clothes for you in the tent. As for insects, I took care of that with a spell. And instead of an air mattress there is a bed, which may or may not be that small on purpose” he grinned at you. You giggled and he pulled you closer towards him. You put your hands on his cheeks and kissed him. Wanting to break the kiss you leaned back, but Loki followed your movement and kept kissing you. You lightly slapped his chest, he broke the kiss “what?”  he asked with his most innocent voice. “I still need air!” you said while catching your breath. “Air is overrated!” he argued. “But I suppose we should eat, before the food goes bad”

The whole afternoon you spend with Loki eating, talking, and laughing. At the end of the day, you both decided to go for a swim. Loki even had a bikini for you, for which you were grateful. Until you put it on and saw it only covered the bare minimum. Sneaky guy. It didn’t take long for it to end in a water fight, which you lost of course. But since Loki had claimed a kiss as his prize, you didn’t mind that a bit. It was getting dark and start started to appear. You both dressed in your pyjamas and Loki made a fire. He spends the night talking about the stars and showing you different constellations. Giving you a perfect opportunity to get as close to him as you could and cuddle.

Loki stopped talking and you noticed he looked to be deep in thought. “Is something wrong?” you whispered. He sat up right and shuffled a little bit farther away from you. He looked into your eyes and his whole expression seemed serious, maybe even a little bit nervous. “Loki?” he flashed you a quick smile. “You know those little photo’s we took on our third date?” “Yeah those polaroids, what about them?” you wondered why he brought this up. “Well, last week I was training and apparently I had one of them in my pocket. It fell out and Thor saw, so I was forced to tell him about you. And since Odin and my mother are gone a few days next week, he keeps bothering me to meet you. So, I was wondering if you would go with me to Asgard next week?” You gasped “Asgard? Really?! Hell, yes I’ll go!” you exclaimed. Loki didn’t show any emotion at your over enthusiastic reaction. “Loki, what’s wrong?” you asked again. “Nothing, I just was wondering if I could introduce you as ehm… well we have a different word for it, but you call it girlfriend?”

You were a bit taken aback. Loki and you only recently started dating, but so far it has been amazing. It probably wasn’t a secret that you were madly in love with him, you never were a good secret keeper, or liar. But you were afraid to actually tell him that. The butterflies returned in your stomach and you didn’t have to think about your answer. “Yes you can” instead of the grin you expected you got a sceptic look. “Really?” you were surprised that he was showing his insecurity. He never had acted like this before. You leaned closer and gave him a light kiss on his lips “really” you said while looking in his eyes. That is when the expected grin showed, and Loki pulled you closer to kiss you. You slipped a hand under his shirt, stroking his abs higher to his chest. Loving the way his muscles tensed underneath your touch. Loki got hungrier with his kiss and his hand trailed from you neck down to your lower back. You knew where this was going and couldn’t wait for it.

You put your other hand on his thigh and started to trail upwards. Loki stopped kissing you and looked into your eyes. He was panting slightly and let his forehead lean against yours. “You sure?” he whispered. “Yes” you whispered back. The moment the word left your lips he picked you up, making you squeak in surprise. He laughed at your reaction and walked towards the tent. He gently laid you down on the small bed and crawled on top of you. You were kissing passionately, exploring each other’s bodies with your hands. It didn’t take long for you to take Loki’s shirt off. You moved around so you were on top of him, with your hands on his chest. You felt his heartbeat fast. You sat up right and took of your own shirt and bra. Loki let out a low growl and grabbed your shoulders to put your upper body down. In one smooth motion he flipped you around. Before you had processed what happened he had his tongue circling your nipple and his hand stroking and squeezing your other breast. When you moaned he stopped and start kissing your chest, upwards to your neck and ear. “That is my new favourite sound in the world. I think my new mission is to hear it as much as possible” he whispered to you. That promise gave you goosebumps, making Loki chuckle.

He slowly put your pants and panties down, his eyes never leaving you. There was a primal hunger in his eyes which was making you wetter by the second. Loki pushed your legs slightly apart and started the kiss the inside of our thighs. Your breath hitched and you felt yourself beginning to squirm underneath him. You felt him smile against your skin, guessing he like to make you squirm. He put your thighs against his shoulders and his hand around them, holding your hips. His tongue started to lick your clit. You couldn’t help but keep moaning at the pleasure he was giving you. He was alternating his pace, keeping you on edge. Every time you moaned a little less he would switch his pace. Your hands went to his hair, stroking and tugging while he kept going and going. When you were almost there he pushed two fingers deep inside of you. “That’s it, come for me” he said in a rough voice. You came undone moaning his name loudly. He kept drawing circles on your clit with his tongue, until you begged him to stop.

He stopped and stood up straight next to the bed. You saw a chance that you wouldn’t want to waste. You got up and kneeled before him. When Loki saw you kneeling before him he froze. You stroked the entire length of his cock. Seeing his mouth fell open a little bit. You took the tip of his cock in your mouth, slowly swirling your tongue around it. When you looked up you saw Loki with closed eyes facing towards the ceiling. You slowly took his whole cock in your mouth, setting a slow pace. You almost missed the inaudible moan that Loki made. Spurring you on you started to quicken your pace. Loki started to stroke your hair and moan a few times. He then grabbed your hair and pulled a little. You let his cock slide out of your mouth and looked at him. He offered you a hand and helped you up. He laid you back down on the bed. “That was amazing, but I really want to make you mine” he said. He lined his cock with your entrance and slowly pushed himself inside of you. He felt you up nicely. It didn’t hurt, but you knew that you would definitely feel it in the morning. Loki quickened up his pace, reaching the right spot inside of you. When you started to moan he began to kiss your neck, biting it to leave a light mark. “Loki, I- I-..” you panted. “Yes, oh yes” Loki almost screamed. When your walls clenched around him and you orgasmed he followed quickly. You felt his cum filing you up. He collapsed on top of you.

When he caught his breath, he rolled of off you. He pulled you close, laying with your head on his chest. You both enjoyed laying naked against each other for a while. You followed the way his abs were formed with your fingertips, while he was stroking your back and playing with your hair. “How exactly did the photo fall out?” you asked, finally breaking the pleasant silence. “Don’t know, accident” he replied. “But if you didn’t want him to know, couldn’t you just lie to him. Since you are the God of Lies?” you asked him. You heard his heart rate speed up and he didn’t answer you. You crawled slightly higher and leaned upwards, so you were close to his face. “You want me to meet your brother don’t you?” it didn’t last long, but you swear you could see a slight blush on his cheeks. “Are you going to keep asking questions all night, because I know a far more enjoyable way to spend it” he finally replied. You let the subject go and kissed him. He suddenly stopped and took a deep breath “I did want you to meet him and him to meet you but didn’t know how else to ask” he admitted. You smirked at him “Alright, now how about you show me the enjoyable way to spend the night?” He grinned widely at you “wrong question, darling” he said while going in for a kiss and squeezing your ass.

[sunflowergirl522]

Runaway: Their Journey Begins

Pairing: Tiefling!Bucky x Elf!Reader

Summary: Bucky takes a lot of jobs to make a living and this one was no different. Except for the fact that it’s for an elf prince and elves tend to avoid him in general. He accepts and with Sam and Steve they start their journey to find the elf prince’s runaway bride.

Word Count: 3355

Warnings: Language

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The tavern is crowded and full of life except for one dark corner where Steve and Bucky sit drinking from their mugs of beer. Sam had immediately joined everyone else instead of following his friends to their lifeless corner upon their arrival. They had all decided to celebrate the mission they just completed with a drink at their usual place.

“How mad do you think Sam is that we had to trade away his lute for the jewel?” Steve chuckles as he asks and takes another sip of his beer.

“I’m sure there’s still steam coming out of his little ears,” Bucky laughs. “Where is he anyway?” As the two of them look out into the crowd of people trying to spot their friend a table crashes to the ground drawing everyone's attention. Sam’s standing where it once was in front of an orc who looks like he’s trying to make sense of what just happened. Steve and Bucky look at each other before rolling their eyes at how drunk and angry Sam is. They know immediately that he had to have been the one to knock over the table and that he’s about to start a fight.

“Watch where you’re walking you big oaf! You almost trampled me!” Sam kicks at the orcs legs as he speaks. The orcs' eyes narrow in on Sam realizing that he had been the reason the table was knocked over and his drink now covering his lap instead of sitting in his mug.

“You spilled my drink on me. Who do you think you are halfling?” The orcs' voice booms through the tavern as he picks up Sam by his collar.

“It’s your turn.” Steve reminds Bucky as he nonchalantly takes another drink from his mug.

“I know, I know.” Bucky downs the rest of his drink before forcing his way through the crowd. “For such a half pint you sure cause a shit load of trouble Sam.” He grumbles to himself before addressing the orc in the room. “Hey buddy! Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”

“Get out of here helmet head, I have no issues with you.” Bucky snarls at the insult thrown at him and cracks his knuckles.

“Yeah, well now I got an issue with you.” He lands a punch in the orcs stomach causing him to drop Sam in shock, who immediately dashes over into the corner with Steve.

“Okay devil man, you asked for it.” 

The orc swings for Bucky who dodges it while landing another blow to the orcs chest. The crowd in the tavern bursts into chaos and cheers as the fight begins. Bucky manages to dodge another punch just to catch a blow to the face from the orc's other fist. He stumbles back a bit from the force of it and can feel the tear in his lip from his fang. He growls at the smirking orc in front of him. He jumps at him, shoving him over onto a table before climbing on top of him and throwing punch after punch at the orcs face. 

Then the doors swing open and everyone freezes as elven guards file into the tavern. The gold of their armor hints to the fact that they’re sun elves. It was rare to see elves in this area. And it was unheard of to ever see a sun elf anywhere other than their territory or in a war. So seeing all the guards fill in the perimeter of the tavern is enough to stop Bucky mid punch. A hush falls over the crowd as an elf prince walks in. He stops in the doorway and scans the place in disgust before his eyes land on Bucky. He makes his way over to him and stops in front of the table. He cringes at the bloodied orc before speaking.

“I’m in need of your services.” Bucky’s eyes go wide for just a second before the orc underneath him groans, drawing his attention back to him. He lands one final blow to his face before standing up and motioning for the prince to follow him over to Sam and Steve. The prince grimaces at the sight of Sam, so drunk he’s barely conscious, and very hesitantly takes a seat across from them while Bucky leans on the wall behind them crossing his arms.

“What can we do for you?”

“Find someone for me. My bride to be has disappeared under my watch. As of this morning she was missing from her room and she’s not in my kingdom. It’s preferable that you find her before her father realizes that she’s missing. I believe that she was kidnapped though any enemies we have wouldn’t have known that she was visiting.” 

“What does she look like?”

“She’s a moon elf.”

“I assure you, your majesty, that we don’t see a lot of moon elves in our profession. We’re gonna need a description to find the right girl.” Bucky spits out and a moment of silence passes before something clicks in Bucky’s head. “You’ve never even seen her have you?” The annoyance in his voice isn’t hidden and Steve bursts in quickly so Bucky can have a moment to stew in whatever he’s thinking of saying.

“Where was she last?”

“The last any of my guards or her guards saw her was in the room she was using during her visit.”

“And you probably won’t even let us go there.” Sam hiccups break apart his slurred sentence as he picks his head up from the table just for it to fall back down when he finishes speaking.

“Your drunk friend would be correct. My kingdom is no place for creatures like yourselves.”

“So let me get this right.” Bucky pushes off of the wall and leans his hands on the table and brings his head down to the prince's height. “You expect me to find some lost princess with no description, no reason for someone to take her, and not even be able to try to track her from where she was last?”

“I can give you a piece of her clothing for a scent.” The prince nonchalantly removes his gaze from the nails he was boredly examining and makes eye contact while he speaks.

“I’m not a damned hound!” Bucky snarls and slams his hands on the table causing many guards to step forward. Steve quickly stands up effectively shoving Bucky back and stopping him from doing anything stupid.

“We’ll look for her. Do you have any suggestions on where we should start looking?”

“There’s a town called Tavin that I’ve heard she spends time in, it’s not far from the kingdom, I’d start there.” The prince then stands up and motions with a finger for a guard to step forward. He drops a bag of coins onto the table and Steve grabs them before Sam can open his eyes to get a glance of it and try to snag it. “You’ll get the rest of it after she’s returned safely to the outskirts of my kingdom.” The prince throws over his shoulder as he starts to walk out of the tavern.

“What an entitled fucking weed eater! How the fuck does he think we’re gonna find his precious fucking princess?” The noise Bucky’s fists make when they slam into the table cause heads to turn in their direction and also causes Sam to groan out something about trying to sleep.

“Are you the best at what you do?”

“Of course I am.” Bucky scoffs out, annoyed that Steve would even second guess that.

“Then we shouldn’t have any trouble finding her.” Steve smirks at his friend knowing he had won whatever argument they would have over this whole quest. “Now let's sober up Sam and get ready to go.” He tosses Sam over his shoulder with just a small protest from the halfling and starts to make his way out of the tavern. Bucky follows behind him grumbling to himself in Inferno and makes sure to kick the passed out orcs legs on his way out.

***

They had let Sam sleep for an hour in their room at the inn not far from the tavern while they repacked their belongings. Once they woke him up they gave him a meal and some water to get him more alert. It’s the system they use every time Sam gets drunk too soon before leaving for a quest. They had to create it because Sam always insists that he can drink just as much as them and not get drunk even though he does every single time.

“So what exactly are we doing again?” Sam asks from atop Steve’s shoulders. He had climbed up after not even twenty minutes of walking because he was tired. He shoves some bread into his mouth while he looks at Bucky for an answer.

“We have to find some elf broad for this dick of a prince.” Bucky’s fists haven't been unclenched since they left town. He stalks ahead of his friends in his annoyance without realizing it. His annoyance only amuses Steve because he knows that once they get to Tavin and pick up a trail he’s going to be on top of it.

“Bucky’s still upset that the prince didn’t give us a description or anything to work with.” Steve looks up at the halfling on his shoulders as he explains the hostility in their friend's voice.

“I’m annoyed because the guy seems like an ass!” Bucky yells back over his shoulder.

“An elf gal huh? I have the perfect song for this!”

“No!” Bucky doesn’t even need to turn around to know that Sam’s reaching behind him to grab the lute that he made them stop to buy on their way out. 

“Fine but only because it’ll be tough to play on someone's shoulders.”

After a long time of walking the trio comes to a crossroads and according to the map they have, both paths will eventually lead them to Tavin.

“I’ve been to Tavin before, if we go right we’ll get there faster than if we go left.” Bucky looks at Steve and points his thumb over his shoulder at the path to the right of the sign.

“Buck, I’ve gone to Tavin a hundred times. If we go left it’ll take longer, yes, but there’s a small village in between us and Tavin that we could stop at to rest and pick up whatever we’ll need.”

“Steve, if I wanted to stop at a town I would’ve said we should go left. The prince said that we should find her before daddy dearest finds out so we should take the quicker path. And I don’t know about you but I want this over and done with already.”

Their bickering continues for a short while before Sam gets annoyed and looks at the map himself. He takes into consideration what bothe of his friends said and how much he would want to walk before he starts walking one way while bringing his lute around his shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Steve calls out to Sam while Bucky smirks at him knowing that Sam’s just made their decision and went with his path.

“I’m gonna find me an elf lover!” After speaking Sam immediately starts to strum and sing a song about the love between an elf and a halfling. Steve shoots his own smirk at Bucky knowing that he’s gonna have to deal with his singing now. BUcky only groans before they both follow close behind Sam.

“Why did I have to befriend a bard?”

“Because said bard has saved your ass on more than one occasion.” Sam answers the rhetorical question still strumming along.

“Shut it shortstack, you were only able to help because no one can see you coming.”

“Can we just all agree that you’re both idiots and move on with our lives? I’d rather not spend the whole trip listening to the two of you argue the whole time.” Steve can’t speak without chuckling over how ridiculous his friends are.

“Alright.” Sam goes back to his song.

“Fine.”

The trio walks on for hours with Sam playing songs here and there and all of them cracking jokes at one another. They walk until after sundown and well into the night. Thanks to the stash of food Sam always has, they don’t even need to stop to hunt for some food.

“Can we stop walking now? It’s starting to get so dark we can’t see the path.” Sam asks as clouds begin to drape around the moon dimming their light source.

“Maybe for you but that’s why I’m here.”

“He’s right, Bucky. We should set up camp for the night, we could all use some sleep anyway.”

“Alright, c’mon, there’s a clearing off to the side of the path up ahead. We can set up there, I’ll start a fire.” Bucky leads his friends up the trail just a little farther before turning off of it and taking his pack off. He leaves Sam and Steve to set up the tent since the moon starts to peek through the clouds providing just enough light to work and goes off to search for wood for a fire. When he comes back he finds Steve sitting outside of the tent with Sam sleeping soundly inside.

“Do you think we really need a fire? I’m getting ready to head in to sleep too.”

“You’re telling me this now? After you let me go off to find the wood.” He drops all the wood at his feet before moving to sit next to Steve.

“I thought you could use some time to yourself to calm down a bit about this quest.” Bucky just nods at him and leans back on his hands.

“Do you really think we’re gonna find the girl Steve?” He asks after a moment of silence passes by.

“Of course I do Buck. As soon as we get a hint of where she is you’ll be able to find her in no time.”

“But what if she doesn’t want to be found?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been thinking and the prince said that no one knew she was visiting right? So how would anyone of known to kidnap her from the kingdom? She could have just run away, I mean the prince doesn’t seem like he’s much of a catch, if I was being forced to marry him I would run away too.”

“I don’t know Buck, from what I’ve heard arranged marriages are rare even among elves. I’m sure if they were getting married they knew each other. I’m gonna head to bed, you should too.”

“Yeah, I will in a bit.” Steve nods and heads into the tent while Bucky looks up at the moon. He can’t help but believe that Steve’s wrong. It has to be an arranged marriage, why else would the prince not know what she looks like.He sits there thinking to himself and looking up at the moon for a while before making his way into the tent.

***

“Rise and shine sleepy head! It’s time to get this show on the road!” Sam bursts into the tent strumming wildly on his lute to get Bucky up. The tiefling groans and flicks Sam with his tail before sitting up. “Shit! You’re so fucking grumpy when you wake up.”

“Because it means another day of having to deal with you.”

“Yeah whatever, put a shirt on and come outside so we can pack up the tent already.”

“Morning Buck.” Steve greets from his spot on the ground where he’s looking at the map. “It looks like we’ll make it to Tavin by noon.” Bucky finishes pulling his shirt over his head as he walks over to his friends to take a look in the food pack.

“Morning.” A strand of his hair falls over his forehead and he runs a hand through his hair between his horns. “The pack’s almost empty, we’ll have to get more food when we get to Tavin.”

“Steve got up and caught some rabbits so that’s something.” Sam speaks in between bites of the roll he has in his hands. He nods his head towards the fire that the rabbits are cooking on.

“You’re not allowed to hold the pack anymore Sam.”

“What, why?”

“I know you’re the one eating all the food. You can be in charge of the tent pack from now on. Now come help me take it apart while Steve finishes packing everything else.”

Bucky and Sam get their gear out of the tent before starting to tear it down. Bucky throws his cloak on and packs up his leather armor while he leaves Sam to pack up each piece of the tent. When Sam starts to reach for the food pack Bucky grabs it before swinging it over his shoulder with his own stuff. And once more they start their journey to Tavin.

***

Tavin is a lively town with merchants and musicians littering the streets. The people loitering around seem happy as they laugh and talk amongst each other. Bucky brings his hood over his head as they reach the crowded town, hiding his horns the best he can. He never knows how people will react to seeing a tiefling walking among them so unless he’s normally in a town he’ll do this.

“You think we should try the tavern first?” Steve asks while motioning to the building with a sign reading ‘La Luna’.

“Yeah, if that doesn’t work we can start asking merchants.”

“Well, what are we waiting for, let’s go!” Sam speeds up thinking he’ll get some food and a drink while they’re there. Just outside of the tavern Bucky grabs onto the back of Sam's shirt successfully stopping him as he tries to keep walking.

“We’re not here to drink, got it?” Sam groans.

“Yeah, yeah, just here to get information. You’re no fun, you know that?” Bucky ignores his friend and follows Steve up to the bartender. Sam grumbles to himself but soon gets distracted by a pretty dwarf sitting in a corner of the place, packing up some food.

“Hey there newcomers, can I get you anything?” The barkeep greets Bucky and Steve as they approach the bar.

“No thanks,” Steve says as he leans against the counter, “we’re just wondering if you could help us find someone.”

“Barely a soul comes through here that I don’t know.”

“We’re looking for a moon elf princess, you seen her?”

“We don’t see a lot of royalty in these parts.” Bucky slides a few coins across the bar knowing how this process works. “Yeah, I’ve seen her. She’s a bit of a regular when she’s out adventuring. Pops actually named this place in honor of her.”

“Has she been here recently?”

“Was here just yesterday, met up with a clan of dwarves who’re here all the time. She left with them.”

“You know where we can find those dwarves?” Bucky leaves a few more coins on the counter.

“You got a map?”

Meanwhile Sam tries to shoot his shot with the dwarf maiden he had spotted.

“Hey sweet thing, my friends and I are in town looking for someone, but I think I might just be who you’re looking for.”

“Maybe you are.” She sends Sam a flirty smile. “But that might depend on who you’re looking for.” And boy is Sam weak to attractive women because he’s quick to spill the beans.

“Some elf princess, I’m sure she doesn’t match your beauty though.”

“Where are you friends now?”

“Over there, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind waiting around if I told them I was leaving with a pretty lady.” Sam points over at Steve and Bucky who’re talking to the bartender and the dwarf watches as Bucky slides coins across the counter with wide eyes.

“I actually have to go.” She leaves in a rush and Sam just shrugs.

“Her loss.” He makes his way over to his friends as the bartender points at the map in front of him.

“Sam, we’ve got a lead.”

Bucky Taglist: @puddinsqueen @koressecretidentity @stevieintheimpala @unmagically @peachytea01 @the-chocoholic-writer @perksofbeingatrex @99-cats @rachmmb @quokkatrash @vanillamaa @strawb3rrydr3ss @that-sarcastic-writer @spideyycents @mackycat11 @crystalsoul2 @rosiemotion @dissectiontime @lmf @jacelynenursalim @aiyanalevina @mooncaffeine @fanofalltheficsx @jewelsrocks99 @lharrietg @yoongisdumplingcheeks @clubcesspool @sailormajinmoon @girl-obsessed-with-things @corvusmorte @sophielovesbarnes @collywobbl @majo240820 @alina02 @toothhurtyam��

Marvel Taglist: @its-the-autism-innit-luv @pogueslandia @obsessedwithbuckybarnes @rorysreallyrandom @sxtansqueen @myalupinblack @aya-fay @lieswithoutfairytales @kakakatey @sugarbutterbailey @1-800-ch3rry @amelia-song-pond @leyannrae @ficsnrec @slut-for-bucky-barnes​ @neenieweenie​ @officiallyunofficialperson​

Everything Taglist: @florenceyelena @ninuffi @i-love-superhero @kolakube9 @lexy9716 @hehehehannahthings

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Present Mic x Reader, eventual polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Explicit, minors BE GONE

Trigger Warnings: Verbal abuse

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

One of my readers made a tiktok of a scene from this chapter!

Chapter: 9/16 (all chapters)

BZZZZT

BZZZZZT

You scowled and reached under your pillow for your phone, wondering who on earth would call you at this time of day.

BZZZT

BZZZT

You patted the usual spot under your pillow, but your phone wasn’t there.

BZZZZZZZZZT

You sighed and sat up, rubbing your eyes and staring at your surroundings, realisation slowly dawning upon you.

This wasn’t your room.

It wasn’t your phone.

It definitely wasn’t your bed.

You reached under the covers, tracing your fingers over your exposed skin. You had nothing on but an oversized shirt and even that wasn’t yours.

In which case...

You glanced over at the man beside you, who was equally annoyed at being disturbed.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered, planting a kiss to your forehead before wriggling out of bed to hunt for his phone.

You wrapped yourself in the covers and watched him fumble in the dark, memories of the past few hours coming back to you all at once.

~~~~~

SEVERAL HOURS EARLIER

The weeks after the sports festival passed by in a blur. You had been right to spend so long adjusting and readjusting your schedule, for without such meticulous planning you would never have been able to keep up with queries from agencies and students alike.

You felt a little guilty for thinking it, but it was almost a relief once the internships actually began and you didn’t have to focus so much on open office hours. You had to keep some degree of flexibility for students struggling under the pressure of their new responsibilities, but very few of them came in. They were too busy giving it their all at their respective agencies.

You weren’t the only one to feel a weight off your shoulders. Midway through the week, Nemuri and Hizashi stepped into your office.

“(Name),” said Nemuri, “are you busy?”

At the time, you were browsing the web for techniques and activities to best support students with the pressures of exams. It was a relatively minor task in the grand scheme of things and you motioned for the pair of them to make themselves comfortable.

“How can I help?”

You had a perfectly good set of chairs, but they disregarded them, instead perching at opposite ends of your desk.

“Tonight, listener,” said Hizashi. “Clear your schedule! We’re going for beers!”

It had been weeks since any of you had visited the izakaya and you were more than a little excited at the prospect of finally being able to catch up with your colleagues in an informal setting. It seemed like all you had talked about lately was agency work, examinations and sports festival related matters. Unfortunately, that enthusiasm swiftly transformed into guilt.

Today was the day you had agreed to meet Akira for dinner and you were reluctant to rearrange it. He had already arranged the entire evening around your schedule, despite having work commitments of his own.

“Ahhh, sorry,” you said, “I have dinner plans tonight. Maybe some other time?”

You didn’t know it at the time, but Hizashi and Nemuri had asked only one person out for drinks before you and that person had also declined. Shouta’s arms and face were both finally healed and he was more than a little conscious of how long he had gone without training. He had plans to throw himself back into the action after school and, as such, had also declined.

Shouta had been telling the unabridged truth, but your revelation made them wonder if perhaps he hadn’t been completely honest after all. He wasn’t the sort of person to go out for dinner, but these were unprecedented times.

“Could it be,” said Nemuri, reaching for your hand, “our precious (Name) has a date?”

It wasn’t a date, but you blushed anyway. It was, after all, the same restaurant you had frequented as a couple.

“No, nothing like that,” you said, feeling a little embarrassed. “Truthfully, I bumped into my ex at the sports festival and he invited me out for a meal. It’s just a catchup, nothing else! A lot of things have changed since we broke up.”

“Is he involved in the hero industry? He must be if he was at the sports festival.”

“I guess you could say that...he’s one of the higher ups at Silver Edge.”

Silver Edge was well known to people with even the most basic level of knowledge of hero agencies and naturally Hizashi and Nemuri knew about it.

“Silver Edge??” Nemuri gripped the hand she had taken. “(Name), you have to tell me everything.”

“There’s not really much to say. We met at college and he took on a job there after we graduated. His uncle is on the board, so he had a lot of recommendations.”

“Maybe I’ve heard of him,” said Nemuri. “What’s his full name?”

“Masayama Akira.”

You hadn’t considered the possibility that your new colleagues might have known your ex in a professional capacity, so it came as something of a relief when Nemuri shook her head.

“Ahhh, it doesn’t ring a bell. Is he taking you somewhere fancy?”

“ Les Papilles ,” you said. “It was our favourite place before...y’know.”

“I’ve heard of that place,” said Hizashi. “They charge 2000 yen just for bread and olives.”

“Think of us while you’re helping yourself to gold leaf,” said Nemuri, cradling your hand and planting a kiss on the knuckles. “I want all of the details tomorrow.”

“Of course,” you said, suddenly wishing you hadn’t said anything.

Nemuri pulled out her phone the second they left your office, Hizashi following with his hands in his pockets. Against all of his better judgement, he had decided to continue looking for the woman from Ego . You getting involved with your ex should have been a good development, but it didn’t feel like one.

“Hello,” said Nemuri, pressing her phone to her ear. “Is this Les Papilles ?”

She pulled open the door to the faculty lounge and sauntered inside, seeming not to notice Hizashi’s gestures of confusion as she took a seat on the couch.

What are you doing? Hizashi mouthed, waving his hands to get her attention. She winked as she caught his eye, clearly unperturbed by his panic.

“Yes, hi,” she said. “I have a reservation tonight, under the name of Masayama Akira. I was wondering if you could confirm the time? Mhmm. Mhmm. Thank you so much! I’ll see you tonight.”

She hung up the phone with a satisfied smirk.

“What are you doing?”

Hizashi still had no idea that Nemuri’s objectives were so different to his own. His immediate assumption was that she meant to take the opportunity to make the night even more romantic and encourage the pair of you to reunite. He couldn’t have been any more wrong.

“ We ,” she said, “are going to Les Papilles .”

~~~~~~~

That night, you spent hours rifling through your wardrobe, trying on dresses and then discarding them, unsure of yourself in ways you never had been before. Akira had been your boyfriend for years, but you didn’t want to presume his intentions and risk sending out the wrong signals.

You managed to narrow your selection down to two: a modest dress you had picked out for a dinner party and the one you had worn to Ego .

As tempting as it was to wear the dress from that night, you decided against it. It was strange, but you felt strangely sentimental about it, as if you were betraying Shouta by wearing it around Akira. You knew it was irrational- that Shouta likely didn’t have much of an opinion either way- but even so, you set it back inside your wardrobe.

The group chat you shared with your friends had exploded at the news that you were going out to dinner. Almost everyone agreed that it was a terrible idea, that going out with Akira would reignite old feelings and undo everything you had achieved over the past few months.

You were confident, though, not only in Akira but yourself. If things got weird you would leave.

You took a deep breath and adjusted your clothes in the mirror, just as you had on the night you went to Ego . This time, though, you didn’t pull your dress down to tease your bra. Instead you pulled it down to cover your knees.

~~~~~~

Les Papilles was far, far out of Hizashi’s comfort zone. He shifted in his seat and watched the string quartet at the other side of the room, considering just how little he belonged there. Nemuri seemed not to notice, turning the pages of the menu and sounding out the specials in broken French.

They had dressed up for the evening in their Sunday best, Hizashi in a black dinner jacket and Nemuri in a burgundy dress. They didn’t look like themselves and he had mixed feelings about it. Ordinarily, he might have concocted a backstory for the pair of them, but his heart just wasn’t in it. Instead he stared at the menu in front of him as if it held the secrets to the universe.

He didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want to watch you eat dinner with another man.

Shouta had the woman from Ego , you had your ex. It felt like everyone had somebody except for him.

“Hizashiiiiiii,” said Nemuri, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Earth to Hizashi…”

He blinked as if coming out of a trance.

“S-sorry, what were you saying?”

“Over there,” she said, holding up the menu to hide where she indicated. “Be subtle.”

He turned to where she pointed, mouth going dry when he saw you, laughing and smiling as your ex pulled out a chair. As far as Hizashi knew, this was the first time he’d ever seen you dressed up, and he couldn’t look away.

He watched as you slid down into your seat and laughed off a joke from your server, crossing your legs and tucking your hair behind your ear.

Nemuri kicked him under the table and he jumped.

“Subtle,” she whispered.

“Right,” he said, sitting up straight. “Of course. Subtle. I can do subtle.”

~~~~~

It was strange to be back at Les Papilles . In a lot of respects, it felt the same as coming home from college at winter break. Everything about it was the same, from the positioning of the cutlery to the servers and orchestra, but you were completely different.

Even Akira was the same. He made the same jokes to the serving staff, ordered your meal from memory, waved to the cellist at the front of the band as he always did. You realised as one of the servers arrived with your favourite vintage that the last time you had been here was the day of the breakup, back when you believed your life was over.

It was strange to be there so soon, laughing and joking as if nothing had happened.

Conversation flowed easily; you caught up on the antics of old friends and his family, his successes at work, his current projects. You didn’t ask if he had started seeing someone else, nor did you offer up any information of your own. It felt inappropriate under the circumstances.

After you finished off your starter, you dismissed yourself to freshen up in the bathroom, fixing up your makeup and checking in on the group chat.

>>How is everything?

>>It’s fine...better than fine. Did you know his sister got married?

>>Has he said anything about getting back together?

>>Of course not! We’re just catching up like old friends! It’s nothing like that.

>>Sure...

~~~~~~

“Oh my god,” said Nemuri, setting aside her fork.

“What is it?”

Hizashi turned back to your table, where Akira was having a conversation with the violin players and table staff. He thought nothing of it until he spotted what Akira was holding: a small black box, which almost certainly contained a ring.

He turned back to Nemuri, looking almost as horrified as she did.

“Is he...surely he isn’t…”

Unfortunately, you returned to the table only a short time later, long before they could intervene.

~~~~~

Akira was taking a sip of wine when you returned and got up from his seat to help you into your chair.

“I already ordered mains,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” you said, making yourself comfortable. “Thank you.”

Akira sat down and cleared his throat, eyes darting from you to the band to the table.

“The truth is, (Name), I didn’t call you here just to catch up.”

“What do you mean?”

He reached for your hand across the table, just as he had when he broke up with you. It was a small gesture, but an unwelcome one, unearthing memories and emotions from that night that you had refused to acknowledge for well over half a year. You remembered how excited you had been back then, so close to the only serious goal you had ever had. All of your hard work and sacrifices would finally pay off and you could become the perfect wife and mother. You could raise your children with a smile on your face, safe in the knowledge that their childhood would be nothing like your own.

“I miss you,” he said, squeezing your hands. “I thought I knew what I wanted but...I didn’t. Back then, I just...I don’t know...I felt like I was stuck in a rut. I wanted something, but I didn’t know what it was.”

He let go of your hands with an expression of pity.

“I slept with another woman,” he said. “I don’t want to hide it from you. I’m sorry...I know it must come as a shock. Promise me you won’t get upset.”

“Akira,” you said, weighing up the pros and cons of being honest with him about your own bedroom antics.

“No, don’t say anything,” he said. “I know this must be hard for you.”

It wasn’t, but you decided to humour him.

“I slept with her once and all I could think about was you,” he said. “I missed the perfect lunches you’d pack for me, the way you’d greet me after work with a glass of wine and listen to what I had to say. I knew I could tell you anything and you wouldn’t judge me.”

“Akira,” you said again, but he reached for your hands again.

“I understand now,” he said. “That other woman? She didn’t care about me as much as you did. I don’t think anyone else ever will...not even my mother. I wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I never wanted to break your heart…and now that I’m higher up in the business I understand where my priorities should be. My new coworkers are older. They’re settled down with families and always talking about their wives and children. Their wives are friends, their children play together...”  

He waved at the orchestra, who swiftly began to play a rendition of the track he decided was your song several years ago. You barely had a chance to register it before he got out of his chair and dropped down on one knee.

“(Name),” he said, holding up a small, black box. “Marry me.”

“Akira…”

“We can be together,” he said. “We can have everything we’ve always dreamed of.”

You stared at him, speechless. Not so long ago this moment was everything you had wanted. You had planned it in your head, had practised saying yes. Now that it was truly playing out in front of you, though, you realised you didn’t want it.

You weren’t sure when, exactly, but you had stopped thinking about weddings and babies. You had stopped thinking about him .

“I…”

“I know,” he said, lifting the ring from the box and towards your finger.

You glanced around the restaurant, feeling the weight of everyone’s gaze. The other patrons had realised what was happening and turned to watch, no doubt waiting to clap.

“Akira, I don’t know what to say...I…”

You couldn’t turn him down without making him look like an idiot in front of this roomful of strangers. Why, oh why, had he decided to make this such a spectacle?

“Just say yes,” he said.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, thinking back to the old you, who would have by now.

“Can we please talk somewhere private?!”

You got to your feet before he could answer, snatching up your purse as you strolled towards the front doors. Akira gave everyone in the restaurant a thumbs up before following you out into the night air.

You hadn’t realised how stiflingly hot the restaurant had been and took a deep breath.

“I have to say,” said Akira as he closed the restaurant door behind him and followed you into a side street. “Whatever skit you’re pulling-“

“ You dumped me ,” you said, turning to face him. “ You told me I was the problem in our relationship. You don’t get to just change your mind about something like that and come back into my life like nothing happened.”

It was the first time you had ever raised your voice at him, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Listen,” he said, “if this is about that other girl…”

“It’s not,” you said. “I slept with someone else too. Twice, actually.”

He took your hands in his, clasping them against his chest.

“Then you understand,” he said. “All of the time I was with her, all I thought about-”

“When I was with him I didn’t think of you at all.”

You hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but nothing else seemed to be getting through to him.

“You’re confused,” he said. “I get it. All of this stuff with UA...it’s just a phase. You’ll move on from it one day.”

“Maybe so...but even then I wouldn’t want to marry you.”

Akira didn’t say anything for several minutes and when he did it was to laugh out loud.

“You’re joking, right? This is a joke.”

“It’s not a joke. I’m sorry, but-”

He snatched his hands away from yours and gripped onto your shoulders.

“Who else is going to want you?”

“I...wh-”

“Look at you,” said Akira, looking you up and down. “You aren’t all that pretty, y’know. You should be grateful someone like me would even look at you, let alone ask you to marry them.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, keeping your composure, “but...I’ve moved on. You should too.”

He shook his head with a tsk, pushing you away with such force that your back slammed against the wall. He took the ring out of his pocket and threw it down onto the floor before going back inside the restaurant. The ring clattered as it hit the ground and you watched, crushing your hands to your face to try and stifle your tears.

All you could think about was the cooking classes you had taken; your instructor’s explanation about adding and subtracting ingredients. It was always possible to add extra later, but adding too much was the point of no return. You had experienced too much now; had seen your life from an outsider’s perspective and didn’t want to return to it. You no longer placed your value in tidy stitches and perfect pastries.

Even so, you considered, kneeling down to pick up the ring from the floor, you were as far from habanero as you were vanilla.

You had no idea who you were anymore.

~~~~~~~

In your absence the restaurant had fallen silent. The band had stopped playing as the door closed behind you both, the serving staff standing a little further back from the table with a cake in their arms, awkwardly exchanging glances with one another. The cake was quite clearly custom made, with bright red icing on the top that read “Congratulations Mrs. Masayama”.

Hizashi chewed his bottom lip, Nemuri cradled her wine glass. They didn’t need to speak to know what the other was thinking. They had seen the expression of horror on your face and the oblivious one on Akira’s. They knew it wasn’t going to end well.

When Akira finally returned, he was alone. He shook his head at the orchestra and serving staff, who swiftly carried on with their duties as if nothing had happened, smuggling the cake back into the kitchen area and resuming their ordinary track list.

Hizashi watched as Akira kicked at his seat before sitting down and turned to Nemuri, who gave him a nod. If he was kicking at chairs, they worried what he might have done to you.

Hizashi got to his feet and left the restaurant, shoving open the front door and rushing out onto the street. You weren’t directly outside and he headed off to check the side streets, heart shattering into pieces when he finally found you.

He could think of little else but the first time he saw you when you came to UA. The original guidance counsellor had been there for years, including when many of the faculty members studied there themselves. She had candies and a pat on the head for just about anyone and losing her was like losing a grandmother. That’s not to say they weren’t excited about the replacement, though.

He and Nemuri had spent hours hypothesising not only what the new person would be like, but the kind of person they hoped they would be. They concluded that they both wanted it to be a cute girl, the type of person they could take to the izakaya and influence in all of the wrong ways. Having you join the staff was like winning the lottery.

He and Nemuri had high fived the first time they saw you, opening the staff room door by a sliver and watching as Nezu took you on a tour. He would never forget his initial impression; that you were pretty and sweet and reminded him of a kitten. His opinions hadn’t changed even now that he knew you better. You held no ill will towards anyone, bent over backwards to help out students and colleagues alike, forgave just about anyone who wronged you even slightly.

Seeing you in tears hit him hard, simply because it was you.

He walked over, stomach churning at the prospect of what might have been said or done to upset you so much.

“Hey, little listener,” he said softly and you frantically rubbed the tears from your eyes.

“S-sorry,” you stammered, fumbling with your purse, “I’ll be right there…”

“Little listener,” he said again, reaching for your shoulders. “Look at me.”

You looked up at him and squinted, recognition slowly sinking in. Very few people recognised him outside of his hero costume and you were no exception to the rule.

“Hizashi? Wh...what are you doing here?”

You blushed a bright red and immediately started rubbing the tears away even harder.

“Saving the day,” he said with a smile.

“Sorry,” you said, though your eyes didn’t meet his. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Hizashi sighed and touched his fingers to your chin, lifting your face towards his. You didn’t have any visible swelling or other marks on your skin that pointed towards a physical attack.

“Don’t apologise,” he said. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” you said, tears welling in your eyes and voice beginning to break, “I’m fine. I’m completely fine.”

You still whispered that you were fine as he lowered his hand from your face, as you buried your face in your hands and began to sob. You still tried to murmur them when you choked with tears and could manage little more than single syllables.

Hizashi stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around you, stroking your hair as you buried your face in his chest and began to wail.

“That’s it,” he said, stroking your hair, “I got you. Just let it out, little listener.”

He reached into his jacket pocket for his phone and typed out a message to Nemuri.

>>I’ve got (Name). You handle him.

>>  ( ˘ ³˘)♥

~~~~~

Nemuri set down her phone with a grin and picked up her purse, making sure to swing her hips far more than was necessary as she approached Akira’s table. The servers, unsure what to do, had brought your main meals to the table, leaving Akira to glare at them in silence.

She slipped down into your chair, taking care to tease her low neckline.

Akira looked up at her and she picked up your abandoned fork, helping herself to a carrot from your plate. She made sure to run her tongue over it, licking off the honey glaze.

“Can I join you?”

~~~~~

You weren’t sure how long you sobbed into Hizashi’s chest, only that you couldn’t stop. You forgot where you were, so overwhelmed by misery and his warm body that the world seemed to stop.

When the tears dried and you came back to earth, you felt more than a little embarrassed. You’d smudged makeup and snot all over his shirt and likely made a scene in the process.

“Oh my god,” you said, stepping back and rubbing your eyes. “I’m so sorry, look at the mess i’ve made…”

Hizashi looked down at his shirt and shrugged.

“What, this? Please. I’m a teacher, a celebrity, a hero and a catch. Believe me, I’ve had worse.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that and he stroked his fingers across your cheeks.

“Ahhh, there it is,” he said, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Much better.”

“I don’t understand...what are you doing here? I thought you and Nemuri were going to the izakaya.”

“Uhhhhh, well,” Hizashi scratched his chin, “the thing is…you kinda put us in the mood for French food…”

Under ordinary circumstances, you would have been mortified at the realisation that they might have seen everything. Right then, though, you were exhausted and numb.

“Ahh, whatever, it doesn’t matter,” you said, reaching into your purse for your train card. “It’s been a long night...I should get going.”

“What are you talking about, cute listener? The night’s just beginning! Didn’t you know? This is the best time to view the city!”

He was trying to cheer you up, but you knew that not only was your makeup ruined, but you could never show your face in Les Papilles again.

“I can’t go anywhere looking like this,” you said. “I look like...like…”

Hizashi shook his head and reached into his pocket. He rummaged for a couple of seconds before grinning and pulling out a set of star shaped sunglasses.

“Now look at that,” he said, slotting them onto your face, “you’ve got stars in your eyes.”

It was such a corny line that you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Do you just... carry spare sets of sunglasses everywhere?”

He reached into his other pocket by way of an answer, pulling out a set shaped like flowers, then another shaped like hearts.

“You never know what might happen,” he said. “Sometimes the mood calls for something a little different.”

“What’s the mood today?”

He lifted up both pairs, weighing up the pros and cons of each before switching his plain glasses for the heart ones.

“Now, then,” he said, shrugging off his jacket and putting it on you. “Have you ever been in a movie?”

“Have I what ?”

It was an absurd question, but he looked as dead serious as anyone could in novelty sunglasses.

“Pick a genre,” he said, reaching for his phone. “You’re the heroine now. What movie are we in?”

You considered it, thinking about the past year.

You didn’t know if you were vanilla or habanero or anything in between, but you knew what you’d like to be given the choice.

“It’s a romance,” you said, blushing scarlet, “a sickly sweet, cliched romance, where everyone falls in love with everyone else and no one’s alone at the end.”

Hizashi nodded, giving you sounds of approval.

“Your wish is my command, princess,” he said, fastening earphones to his phone and slipping it into the inside pocket of the jacket he had put on you. “Here…”

He held out the earphones and you picked them up, putting one in your ear and holding out the other, meaning to share. Hizashi shook his head.

“No, no,” he said. “It’s your soundtrack, not mine!”

You put the other one in and listened to the music he had loaded, taking in the wistful melody as he reached a hand for yours. You reached to take it and followed him along the street, gazing up at the street lamps and signs overhead.

You knew these streets better than most. Akira lived nearby and between going to his place and visiting Les Papilles , you had done a lot of walking here. Perhaps it was the sunglasses, the music or the fact that you were holding onto Hizashi’s hand, but it didn’t look the same. You spotted details you had never noticed before, like the dancing wisterias overhead and the glow of fairy lights in the windows. You spotted chalk drawings on the ground, smiling strangers who passed you with cups of coffee only to disappear from your life moments later.

You wondered how long you had walked these streets without really looking at them; how many years you had spent looking at your feet instead of the sky.

You didn’t let go of Hizashi’s hand as you got onto the train, peering out of the windows at every station you passed. You admired every piece of graffiti, the careful hand movements of the musician busking at the station entrance. You couldn’t hear him over the music playing through Hizashi’s earphones, so pretended he was the one playing.

You got off at a station you’d never been to before, listening to the gentle swell of the music as you climbed the stairs out onto the main square. Food vendors lined the streets and the scent of fried foods filled the air. Hizashi guided you along the street, pointing out a carousel. In the daytime it would have looked mundane, but at night it was beautiful, illuminating the night with a golden glow.

Hizashi guided you towards it and slipped the owner a couple of notes, motioning for you to choose a horse the moment he let you pass through the rope barrier. You picked one out and climbed up into the saddle, waving Hizashi over to sit behind you. He climbed up into the saddle and wrapped an arm around your waist, using the other to hold onto the rail.

You watched your surroundings as the ride began to move and your shadows hit the ground.

You had lived in this city for years and walked the earth for thirty. You had never known the city could look like this, that it could fill your heart with warmth and love until it shone as brightly as the carousel. You wanted to stay there forever and never come down, enchanted by the world and its infinite details.

~~~~

You hadn’t gotten around to eating dinner and spent more money than you normally would on warm doughnuts, corn dogs and yakisoba. The pair of you sat down at the end of the pier, taking off your shoes and dangling your feet down towards the sea.

By then, you had turned off the music and handed Hizashi his jacket back, relishing the sound of the waves hitting the shoreline and soft sea breeze through your hair.

“So,” said Hizashi, taking a bite of one of the doughnuts, “what’s the story with your ex?”

“There’s not really much of one,” you shrugged. “We dated at college.”

“And?”

“And...one day he took me out to dinner and said he wanted to play the field, live a little more, that sort of thing. He didn’t want to commit to a relationship, he wanted to get out there and have fun,” you said, poking at your noodles. “I thought it was the end...but...actually...I think I agree with him now. I’d spent so long in a relationship that I forgot who I was without it.”

“And are you any closer? To figuring out who you are?”

“No,” you said, sighing deeply. “I thought I was, but now I’m not so sure.”

“Well,” said Hizashi, dusting off his hands. “If this is you at 25%, I can’t wait to see what you’re like at full power.”

You turned to Hizashi, blushing at the way he had turned to look at you.

“I...I don’t really know what to say to that.”

“Then don’t say anything.”

“I never thought I’d hear you say that, of all people.”

“Hey!”

You giggled at his outburst, thinking back to Shouta’s words at your apartment.

Purple socks, studded leather, zombie movies, horror games, candles that smell like desserts, cheap sunglasses, expensive shampoo, eighties rock and dubstep mashups, light beer…

All of the things Hizashi liked.

Shouta had taken a step back and said he was rooting for you. Akira was no longer in your life. You took a deep breath and swung your legs to hide your nerves.

“Hizashi,” you said, somehow managing to blush an even darker shade of red.

“Hmmm?”

“Did you...uh...that is. Would you like to…”

You hadn’t propositioned anyone since Shouta and even then he had filled in the blanks. You prayed Hizashi was just as good at taking a hint.

“...wouldyouliketogosomewheremoreprivate?”

You didn’t dare look at him. You wanted the earth to swallow you whole.

“(Name),” he said at last, “are you asking what I think you are?”

“Probably,” you squeaked. “Oh god, I’m sorry, I-you must think I’m...”

He cupped your face in his hand, though, grinning like a cheshire cat.

“You worry too much,” he whispered. “Just let it happen.”

“Okay,” you said, heart fluttering as he stroked his fingers across your jawline and combed his fingers through your hair, touching his lips to yours with a softness you hadn’t expected from him.

One kiss turned into two, two turned into three and before you knew it you were gasping into his open mouth while he stroked his fingers from your ribs to your hip. You were grateful for the sunglasses he had given you; you dreaded to think how dazed you looked. You felt as if you were floating, head and shoulders above the clouds.

Hizashi broke the kiss before you did and got to his feet.

“Are you ready,” he asked, putting one hand on his hip and quite deliberately guiding your line of sight to his crotch, “for this jelly ?”

It was such an absurd thing to say that you burst out laughing.

This, this right here was what you expected from him.

~~~~~~~~

You’d been to Hizashi’s apartment before during the recording of Support Mic . Every time you went there, you made the same observation: that its walls were plain and its furniture simple, completely at odds with the man who lived there.

“You wanna see something cool?” he asked as he closed the front door.

“Okay.”

He reached out to flip a light switch and at first you believed he was going to leave you both in the dark. You wondered what was cool about that, only for your jaw to drop a moment later.

It was a light switch, but not in the conventional sense.

Hizashi, as it turned out, had blacklights installed in his home and every corner of every wall shone with otherwise invisible colours. Some areas had portraits and galaxies painted on them, others had patterns and handprints.

“W...wow,” you said, staring up at a ghostly milky way as Hizashi brushed your hair to one side and planted a kiss on the back of your neck.

Your dress hit the ground with a whisper, his belt fell at your feet. You had nothing on but your underwear by the time you reached the bedroom and stared at the sapphire hue of your skin. Somehow, even your own body felt foreign.

You glanced over at Hizashi, at the musical notes tattooed on the left side of his ribcage and stud through his right nipple, really seeing him for the first time. The Hizashi you had known before this was goofy and sweet. This one was a piece of art on par with the galaxies and flowers on his walls. You didn’t know why it surprised you to learn he too had layers of complexity.

He noticed you staring at him and almost looked bashful, though it lasted only a fraction of a second. He dropped to his knees and hooked his fingers around the band of your underwear, shimmying them down to your ankles and planting a kiss on the soft flesh below your belly button. You sighed into it, stomach fluttering, and kicked them off entirely.

“Now then,” he said, getting to his feet and planting a hand on the small of your back to draw you closer, “check you out, little listener! You look good enough to eat.”

Heat rose in your cheeks and you giggled, accepting the kisses he peppered across them. He kissed your lips and squeezed your butt, using your gasp to explore your mouth with his tongue.

His bedsheets were soft against your skin - almost as soft as his kisses. You crushed your lips against his without any kind of hesitation, trembling as he stroked a hand over your collarbones, breasts and then stomach before slipping a finger between your folds. You gasped as his fingertip grazed your clit and he chuckled, propping himself up on his other elbow and admiring the view as he traced his finger around the outside of your wetness.

“Look at that,” he said, sounding genuinely impressed, “you’re so wet already!”

He pulled his hand away from your slick and held it up so you could see, rubbing his finger and thumb together to show the wetness you’d left on them. You fell silent, feeling oddly bashful as he sucked on the finger he’d used to touch you.

You had no clue how you were going to look him in the face at work after this, but his touches felt so good that you didn’t care. You tasted yourself on his lips when he kissed you, shivered as he lifted your leg up onto his waist and shoved his hand between your thighs. He scissored his fingers inside of you and rubbed his thumb over your clit, laughing whenever a particular touch made you moan and buck your hips against his hand.

“Let me hear you,” he said, peppering your throat with kisses and drawing moans from your lips, relishing every vibration.

He pulled his fingers out of you and sucked them before lifting himself up onto all fours, rolling you onto your back in the process. You stared up at him, heart racing, taking in the silvery hue his hair had taken in the dark. He trailed messy kisses from your lips to your collarbone, crawling down the bed as his kisses travelled south. You closed your eyes the second his tongue crossed your nipple and let out a sigh of pleasure, which only seemed to spur him on.

“That’s it, baby,” he cooed, settling on his stomach and spreading your legs wide. “Sing for me.”

This was the first time anyone had gone down on you. You had no point of reference, no idea what to expect. You gasped at the strange, wet feeling, reaching down to stroke his hair as if by instinct. Every touch of his tongue sent your insides to jelly and you bit down on your fingers to stifle your gasps.

“No, no, no,” he said, “I want to hear you.”

He held your hips down and sucked at your clit so forcefully that you lost all coherent thought. It still felt wet, but the strangeness had gone, making room for a growing tightness deep inside of you. You wanted nothing more than to break.

He eased up, swirling the tip of his tongue against your clit so gently that you caught yourself bucking your hips against his mouth and arching your back from the bed, trying and failing to meet him halfway.

“Don’t stop,” you whined, reaching for his hair. “Please, please don’t stop.”

You were so close to unravelling and it felt like a matter of life or death.

You had no point of reference and no way of knowing how good Hizashi actually was at oral. All you knew was that his touches left your arms and legs numb. You finally understood why he had painted so many of his ceilings to look like outer space. The more he touched you, the more it felt like you were floating, watching your own body contort with pleasure from a distance.

He knew the exact moment you teetered on the brink and chose that one to loosen his grip on you and plant a kiss on your thigh. The anticipation faded and you could have cried.

“Hizashiiii…”

“No, no, no, not yet,” he said, sitting up onto his knees and wagging his finger. “I want to make you scream.”

You’d never screamed in bed before and just the thought left you feeling a mixture of embarrassed and morbidly curious. Exactly how good would you have to feel to scream? How dirty could Hizashi get?

You smiled, cheeks flushed.

“I’d love to see you try.”

“Those are famous last words, (Name).”

“At least I’ll go with a smile on my face.”

Hizashi grinned and adjusted his position, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his waist, spreading you wide and slipping a finger in you, snickering as your toes began to curl. It didn’t take long to build you up again this time and you grabbed the bedsheets, bracing yourself for a peak that never came. Hizashi let you get close enough to taste freefall, only to drag you back to earth.

He rolled across the bed and fumbled in his bedside drawer, pulling out a condom and something else that you didn’t recognise in the half light.

“Say, (Name), do you wanna see something... really cool?”

“Go ahead.”

He thrust the condom towards you, motioning for you to take it. You did, turning it over in your fingers and squinting at the print.

“Are these…”

“Present Mic condoms! Designed, approved and beta tested by yours truly! Guaranteed to make your partner siiiiiiiiiiing.”

You knew that there was a lot of Present Mic merchandise. You’d seen shirts, alarm clocks, pyjamas and more and that was without deliberately seeking them out. There was almost certainly more on the internet, though it had never occurred to you that condoms would be one of them.

“I,” you said, “I don’t know what to say.”

You passed it back to him, watching as he wriggled out of his underwear. You licked your lips at the sight of his dick, unable to stop yourself. Where Shouta’s dick was wide, Hizashi’s was long and you didn’t know what to say of the fact that you had seen enough of your colleagues naked that you were able to make such a comparison.

He dragged the tie from his hair and wrapped it around his wrist, flicking his hair over one shoulder with a wink.

“You like what you see?”

Yes.

Yes, you did.

Between the blacklight, his naked body and long, golden hair, he looked like a painting.

“Come here,” you said, waving him over.

He stayed there, though, pouting.

“But you haven’t seen the cool part yet,” he said.

“You mean...there’s more?”

What else had he trademarked? Was he about to show you Present Mic lube?

He opened the condom wrapper, though, and you soon had your answer. It wasn’t any ordinary condom and, retrospectively, you regretted not realising it earlier.

Present Mic’s condoms were glow in the dark and shone green under the blacklight.

“It’s...it’s a glow stick,” you gasped, watching as he pulled it on. “Oh my god.”

“It’s awesome, right! Not sure how you’d wave them at a concert, though…Not without getting arrested, anyway...”

He said it so sincerely that you couldn't help but laugh, clapping a hand over your mouth in an attempt to stifle your giggles.

“You think that’s funny, eh?”

“I’m sorry,” you said, laughing harder.

“Hon, what are you apologising for? I could watch this all day.”

You looked up at him, taking in the tender expression on his face that was completely out of place in your current surroundings. You remembered the way he had cradled you in the alley, just as gentle then as he was now.

You would almost certainly feel embarrassed in the morning, but you knew that none of this was a mistake.

He leaned over you, kissing your nose as he reached out to the mystery item he’d put on the bedside table. You inhaled sharply when you realised it was a vibrator wand, something you had never seen in person. It looked like something from a science fiction movie.

“You okay, doll?”

“Are they...always that big?”

Hizashi sat up onto his knees and set the vibrator aside for the time being.

“Nope, but this one is especially powerful! I accept only the best, ya dig?”

You glanced from the vibrator to him, trembling from the anticipation. You had followed Rei and the others into sex stores, though stared at your shoes the entire time, too ashamed to look, much less join in their conversations. They bought you a bullet vibrator for your birthday once, just to see the horrified expression on your face.

Tonight you were well and truly diving in head first.

“Put your hands up,” said Hizashi, lifting your leg over his shoulder. You obeyed, slowly raising your arms above your head and onto the pillows. He licked his finger and slipped it between your folds and back inside you, stretching you out a little more before pulling it out and inching his dick into the gap. You gasped, relishing both the feeling of being stretched to accommodate him and the way he closed his eyes and sighed in pleasure.

“What the hell, (Name),” he whined, “you feel so good.”

“S-so do you,” you said, heat rising in your cheeks.

Hizashi bumped his hips against yours, both of you gasping at the sensation.

“How’s that?”

“Do it again.”

He obeyed, squeezing onto your thigh as he thrust back into you. You reached down a hand, meaning to stroke your clit, but he clapped you away.

“No, no, no, put your hands up,” he said and you rested them back onto the pillows. “The party’s not over yet.”

He took up a slow pace initially, changing it up whenever you got remotely close to coming. He’d go faster only to stop the moment you begged him to keep going and keep fucking you that way. He’d go slow and deep, brushing the soft spot inside of you, only to pull out once your moans got more frantic. You knew from the satisfied look on his face that he was doing it on purpose.

“S...stop teasing me like this,” you said, “I’m going to…”

Truthfully, you had no idea what would happen when you came. You’d never been teased this much before. Hizashi laughed, though, perfectly dodging the pillow you launched at his head.

“Are you suuuure? I said I’d get you to scream, remember? Do you think you can handle it?”

“Yes! Yes I can handle it!”

Hizashi smirked and fell still, reaching for the vibrator next to him. He spat on his fingers and rubbed them across your clit before flicking the on switch. You had never heard a vibrator so loud, but you were so focused on the tension inside of you that you didn’t care. Hizashi touched it to your clit and held it there, sending you over the edge in a matter of seconds. You gasped in delight, body twitching and full of warmth. Hizashi started to thrust, moaning at the feel of you tightening around his cock. He held the vibrator in place and you squirmed, tension building inside of you again, just as unbearably tight as before. It was overwhelming and you cried out at the feel of his rapid fire thrusts and hum of the vibrator, overstimulated to the point of no return.

He turned up the vibrator and you screamed in delight, losing all self consciousness as your body quaked.

He kept going, over and over, dragging orgasms from you until you lost track of the peaks. They started to bleed into one another, leaving you flustered and desperate. He went deeper and harder, praising you for how loud you were getting.

“Are you going to give me one more,” he said, switching off the wand. “One more, I know you can do it.”

“Mhmm,” you whined, watching as he set aside the vibrator and slipped himself out of you. “Hizashi…don’t stop…”

He lifted both of your legs and motioned for you to hold them open, planting a kiss on your slick folds before pushing himself back inside of you. You bit your bottom lip at the change in angle, his hips crashing into yours so deeply that you felt the bed rocking beneath you.

“Sssshit,” said Hizashi, “I’m going to come.”

“Me too,” you said, digging your nails into your thighs to keep them spread, “I’m going to…hnn!”

You arched your back as you came, the added twitching sending Hizashi over the edge with you. You watched in curiosity, wondering what would happen if he cried out, only for him to lean over and crush your lips with his own, moaning into your open mouth as he continued to thrust.

“You ready for the money shot?”

You nodded, placing a hand on the small of his back and feeling him thrust into you.

You watched as he sat up to straddle you, dragging off the neon condom and frantically pumping at his dick. He bit down on his own fingers as he came across your belly, covering your skin in a layer of hot cum, which glowed luridly under the light.

You reached out to touch it with trembling fingers as Hizashi got up off the bed to get rid of the condom, admiring the way it shone against your skin in the same way as the paint on his bedroom ceiling.

Before this, you felt your body had been as barren and plain as the white walls of his apartment. Perhaps it was the happy hormones flooding your body, but you felt just as transformed and ready to confront just about anything.

“You okay, little listener?”

Hizashi came back towards the bed, taking a seat beside you and combing your hair off your sweaty forehead. Both of you laughed when all you could muster was a shaky thumbs up.

“Well, lucky for you, the party isn’t over,” he said with a wink. “I am going to run you the warmest, bubbliest bath you’ve ever had in your life...if you’re lucky, I might even join you!”

~~~~~

PRESENT

“I got it, I got it,” said Hizashi, reaching up to answer his phone. “Hello? Hello…? Ah...Eraser, what’s…wait. Slow down. What do you mean?”

Something about his tone made you anxious and you pushed back the covers as he sank down onto the edge of the bed. You could hear Shouta’s voice, though not what he was saying.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, I’ll be right there.”

He hung up the phone and set it down on his bedside drawer, breathing a heavy sigh.

“That sounded serious. Is everything okay?”

“We have to go to UA,” he said, getting up to pick up the TV remote.

“Hizashi it’s...it’s three in the morning, what-”

You fell silent the moment he switched it on, taking in the stony faced news broadcaster and burning buildings, the video footage of Midoriya at the feet of the hero killer, Stain.

“Oh my god,” you said, hugging yourself.

“Yeah,” sighed Hizashi. “Guess there’s not gonna be a round two.”

[jiantan]

Operation: Cheer Up Buddy || Jian & Minjoon

When: May 7, 2021

Where: Jian’s apartment, Santa Monica, California

Featuring: Minjoon Song (dialogue provided by Katie @minjoonie-song) 

Triggers: Drunkenness 

Joonie dropped his phone on the couch where he’d been laying around after Jian’s last text, making a checklist of things as he dove head first into Operation: Cheer Up Jian. Hm. Scratch that. Operation: Cheer Up Buddy. Code name: CUB. During his internal rambling, that admittedly did make him smile, Joonie grabbed one of his favourite blankets and threw it into the dryer to make sure it was warm when he took it over. After steps two, three and four of his amazing plan; put on pants, gather food and get the blanket out, Joonie was using his foot to knock on Jian’s door, hugging the blanket to keep it as toasty as possible.

Jian was laying on the floor of his living room, three drinks in. Who would’ve thought Mike’s Hard Lemonade would actually taste good? Not Jian. His co-worker Stanley was right. But now Jian was drunk and thinking about his ex. He remembered that he was dumped by the person he thought was his soulmate two years ago to the date and had to throw himself a pity party to celebrate. As he heard a knock on the door, he groaned and rolled around before getting up and answering. “Minjoon, hi...” he said, realizing in that moment that he was wearing Christmas penguin pajama pants.

Joonie greeted Jian with a smile and a quiet hi as he set down the picnic basket so he could drape the blanket over his shoulders.  “Warm and soft always makes me feel better.” Minjoon smiled, retrieving the basket again and patting the lid lightly. “Food too. I brought things to make you either the best mushroom risotto you’ll ever eat ever or the best pizza bagels you’ll ever eat. Depends on how soon you feel up to eating.”

He blinked at Minjoon in confusion, almost forgetting about the texts he had sent not long ago. “I, uh, I’ve never had pizza bagels before,” he admitted. His parents considered it to be junk food, and they never kept much junk food in the house. As an adult, Jian internalized their lessons about healthy eating, but he occasionally went to drive-thrus after long days at work. “Have you ever had Mike’s Hard Lemonade before? My co-worker said it was tasty and I didn’t believe him, but it does taste like lemonade!” He snuggled up in the blanket, bringing it closer to his face. “This smells nice.”

“Pizza bagels it is! And they’ll be the yummiest you’ll ever eat ever and they’ll ruin all other pizza bagels for you forever.” Minjoon nodded confidently. He may have been biased, considering he’d made both the bagels and the sauce he brought over. “Um.. nope. I can’t say I have. I like making cocktails because it’s about flavours and that’s like my one skill. I mostly like wine though because of how well it pairs with food and I love food so that’s mostly what I drink if I’m at home or a friends.” He felt his face flush when Jian commented on the blanket. “Ah, that’s my uh.. I have a pillow mist? It’s lavender, jasmine and sandalwood. I put it on my blankets too because it’s supposed to be soothing.”

“Oh. I guess I’m trying new things today.” He was genuinely interested to see how this would turn out. “I don’t like too many alcohols because of the taste. I liked the cocktails you made that one time because they tasted like fruits. Every beer I’ve ever tried tasted like wet bread. I think I tried wine once and didn’t like it.” Most of his alcohol-based misadventures occurred during college. He tried a bunch of different things but disliked most of them. “Your pillow mist is nice. You’re nice.”

“You’ll have fun, I promise. If not fun, you’ll at least have a full tummy.” Joonie put his hand on Jian’s shoulder to guide him back slightly and let himself in so he could close the door behind himself. “We don’t want the little ones escaping. Ollie, really. Reggie will probably take some time but better safe than sorry.” Minjoon could only nod in agreement at the opinion on the drinks. “Yeah, I’m not really a beer drinker. I don’t really like it but cocktails that don’t taste like alcohol are the best. Except for the fact that you can just drink them like juice and get drunker than you want to. Do you really like it? I can get you some.”

"Having a full tummy is a good idea. I didn't eat dinner yet." He didn't have any plans for dinner and was most likely going to eat leftovers before Joonie arrived. "Reggie is in his tank. I'm not sure where Ollie is. He's probably asleep on my bed. Or in my laundry hamper." If he was awake, he would have already darted for the door. "I don't think I need any more alcohol. I'll just become more sad." Too much alcohol made him sad and he never figured out how to fix that.

“This won’t come as a surprise but I’m full of good ideas when it comes to food. Mostly because my ideas just involve eating and that’s always a good idea.” Joonie nodded when Jian explained where the pets were, not quite sure where Jian’s room or the hamper was so he couldn’t try and peek to wave at Ollie. “No, I don’t think you should drink any more unless it water or juice.” He paused slightly, looking at the bags he brought before he set them down where he stood and opened his arms. “Do you want a hug?”

"You do love food... I don't mean that as a bad thing. Just an observation. You make good food and you have good taste." The last thing Jian wanted was for Joonie to think he was insulting his weight or eating habits. When asked whether he wanted a hug, he hesitated. He knew a hug would feel very nice and comforting right now, but he was afraid he'd start crying if he was hugged. He didn't want to be perceived as a pathetic baby, even though he felt like one on the inside. After a moment of silence, he caved in, burying his face in his friend's shoulder.

“I really do. It’s always been that um.. Like a constant? It’s always been a source of comfort for me.” He wrapped Jian up in a hug when the other leaned into it, his crooked fingers stroking the hair at the nape of his neck before he was massaging it the way that always helped soothe him. “I’ve got you.”

“My computer and my gaming consoles have been my source of comfort since I was young. If I feel lonely or sad, I can play a game and become someone else for a little while.” As soon as he finished saying his thought aloud, he realized just how sad it sounded. He thought to himself, ’I really am pathetic.’ He took a few deep breaths, trying to keep it together as his friend touched his hair, until he finally snapped and started crying into Minjoon’s shoulder.

“That’s the same for everyone, isn’t it? Why we have so many games where we’re the hero? Where at the end of it, we’re the ones who save the day and everything is okay.” He hoped his reassurance came across as exactly that, a reassurance, and not him trying to invalidate Jian’s feeling of comfort. Joonie understood how hard it can be to open up, to spill secrets no matter how big or small. He wrapped his arms tighter around Jian, rest his chin on his shoulder and held him closer; another quiet “I’ve got you.” leaving him.

“I— I guess so. I haven’t put too much thought into it.” He wanted to be able to save the day and make everything okay in his own life, but he didn’t even think he was the main character of his story. If anything, he was the villain who ruined everything. “Why are you so nice?” he mumbled, squeezing Joonie even tighter.

“And that’s okay too. Not everything has to have a reason, you can enjoy things simply because they’re enjoyable.” Minjoon spoke softly, trying to be as gentle as possible with Jian so he knew he was in a safe space. “I’m not so nice, I’m Minjoon.” Even with the joke, he kept his voice light but still, the corners of his lips curled up slightly in amusement at himself as he squeezed back.

Jian sniffled, asking, “Like Animal Crossing?” He truly did play Animal Crossing just for the sake of playing it. There was no winning or losing in that game, just colorful animals. “No, but you really are a nice person. I don’t know what I did to deserve a nice friend like you.”

[raisinghellonstarbug]

You asked for Sastiel prompts, what about Sam and Cas on a date at the beach?

A/N: Sorry anon for ignoring your prompt for so long! I love getting prompts but I’m not generally very prompt in responding to them ;) see what I did there? anyway, finally got around to it! Enjoy x

-

Title of prompt ficlet: Sunshine, So Solemn Yet So Serene

Rating: G

No warnings, just adorable fluff and a little angst

Basic plot: Sam and Cas go to the beach to try and recover and move on from the loss of Dean (set after s15 finale).

*

Sam was overwhelmingly happy when Jack decided to bring back Castiel from the Empty despite it taking a lot of persuasion. But as their world and all the others were no longer controlled by Chuck, it seemed that even The Empty itself was willing to be more reasonable.

With Dean gone, it had gotten really tough and he didn't know how much longer he was going to cope without anybody besides Miracle. It was very lonely and quiet.

So when Cas returned to Sam, he was eternally grateful. Even if Dean was gone at least he had the angel by his side. So, in the last few months Sam and Cas had been grieving the loss of Dean while trying to come to terms with living a life without him.

Incidentally in the midst of everything, it just so happened that only minutes before Cas had sacrificed himself, he decided to finally confess that he had fallen in love with Sam. At first Sam had no idea how to react. But with only a minute to decide, he was tearing up and nodding, whispering the words of "I love you too. I didn't know it for a long time. I realise now that I have ever since I met you..." and then bam. Cas got consumed and taken away. But that was another time and this was now.

Having been cooped up in the bunker for weeks on end, Sam figured that he and Cas needed to get away for a little while. So he got Miracle to be dogsitted by Jodie (who happened to also love dogs) for the day and drove them to California to hit one of the beautiful beaches that Sam had always wanted to visit. Castiel was excited.

When they got to Venice Beach it was a typically hot day, the kind of heat where even shirts were too suffocating. Sam was struggling to cool down while Cas bought matching Hawaiian style shirts to which Sam cringed but smiled and reluctantly agreed to wear one. They both had to admit though that the sun felt nice and the scenery was effortlessly beautiful. The sun was glowing a deep shade of red: rich and saturated.

Cas wasn't a big swimmer. He hadn't really thought about it as a skill. Sam had to show him the basics. They swam side by side gently in a breathstroke. Sam would try not to laugh when Cas spat out seawater from his mouth. Despite this, Sam couldn't help but find Cas adorably attractive even while his hair was a wet mess and with a look of disgust across his face.

Sam had brought a bunch of stuff together to share. They were both hungry (well, Cas didn’t really need to eat but he pretended) and so he got a disposal barbeque out and lit it up. He had brought vegetarian sausages and patties to put on the heat along with salads, fruit and bread. It was the perfect picnic all put together with plates in a pretty hamper that Cas had spotted in a shop a couple of weeks ago.

"I'm glad that my gift to you has become useful..." Castiel said softly with a smile while sitting on the blanket that he and Sam had been lying on together.

Sam chuckled, "Yeah well it didn't help that you kept going on about picnics. I figured it was time I took you on a proper date for us to enjoy."

Castiel grinned and his face blushed slightly. But it could have been the sun that caught his face. Sam thought it was incredibly cute when Cas got shy about his emotions.

Sam then got the food out of his packets from the cooler and threw the sausages and patties on to the heated wire. Intently concentrating on making sure that he didn’t burn anything, Castiel watched him closely while smiling and chuckling softly.

Sam frowned with a hint of a grin across his lips, “What?”

“Nothing. Except, it’s just endearing how much concentration you set upon on cooking food. I guess when Dean was still alive you didn’t need to cook.”

Sam snorted, “Neither of us were that good at it. It just happened to be that Dean was slightly better.”

Castiel nodded, “Yes. Winchesters were good at saving people and hunting things. They were not good at cooking.”

“Gee thanks Cas! Do you want any food or not?”

“You know I only pretend to eat to make you more comfortable.”

Sam shaked his head still scoffing, “Yes but you can also pretend to enjoy it.”

Castiel sighed, “Ok. I’m sorry. I’m not good at this boyfriend thing. I love your food Sam.”

Sam then laughed loudly and in turn Castiel began to giggle. They looked at one another and Cas’ eyes softened.

“You look beautiful when you smile Sam.”

Sam blushed and meekly said thank you. He carried on cooking the links and patties until they were nice and brown. He put the buns on plates and prepped the burgers and hot dogs with ketchup and salad.

As they ate their food together, they stared out into the sea and just sat there reeling in the atmosphere and enjoying the quiet. Sam looked at Cas and took Cas’ hand, which Cas reciprocated. Cas then leaned his head on Sam’s shoulder.

“This has been a wonderful date Sam. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome Cas. I’m still so glad you’re here and not just my imagination.”

Castiel lifted his head up and placed a peck on Sam’s forehead, to which Sam responded by capturing his lips with a chaste kiss. Sam’s lips were so soft and tender. Cas felt like he could float away. Sam placed a hand on Cas’ cheek and said earnestly with a slightly sombre smile, “I wouldn’t have been able to cope if you weren’t here with me.”

Castiel shushed him and squeezed Sam’s hand. He then noticed a tear falling down Sam’s face and wiped it away with his finger placing his forehead against Sam’s. He held him close in his arms and kissed his forehead once more.

“It’s ok Sam. We are in this together. Let’s enjoy where we are. Dean would have wanted that.”

Sam nodded and got his composure back and smiled. He kept a hold of Cas’ hands and kissed them.

“You’re the best angel there is.”

Castiel got two bottles of beer from the cooler and handed one to Sam. They opened them and took a swig. Castiel rose his bottle.

“Let’s say cheers. A cheers to Dean and to us.”

Sam smiled and agreed. They both said cheers together.

As the sun was beginning to go down, Sam kept the barbeque on to make sure they wouldn’t get cold. But then he remembered that they were in California and that wasn't so necessary.

Nevertheless they cuddled up to one another and watched the breathtaking sunset.

While they both were brought together through the pain of nearly losing one another and through the grieving of Dean, they wouldn't wish themselves to be anywhere but where they were then.

*

I hope this was nice and not too sad!

[jafreitag]

Grateful Dead Monthly: Gaelic Park – New York, NY 8/26/71

Fifty years ago today, on Thursday, August 26, 1971, the Grateful Dead played a concert at Gaelic Park in New York City.

Gaelic Park is located at West 240th Street and Broadway, five miles north and east of Yankee Stadium, in the Bronx. In 1926, the Gaelic Athletic Association purchased it to host the Gaelic Games. What are Gaelic Games? I’m a sliver Irish (just learned that a few years ago from a cousin who did some DNA stuff), but I didn’t know about such games until I asked the Google machine. Here you go, from the Wiki:

“Gaelic games (Irish: Cluichí Gaelacha) are sports played in Ireland under the auspices of the Gaelic Athletic Association (GAA). They include Gaelic football, hurling, Gaelic handball and rounders. Women’s versions of hurling and football are also played: camogie, organised by the Camogie Association of Ireland, and ladies’ Gaelic football, organised by the Ladies’ Gaelic Football Association. While women’s versions are not organised by the GAA (with the exception of handball, where men’s and women’s handball competitions are both organised by the GAA Handball organisation), they are closely associated with it.”

Some to unpack there. What’s Gaelic football? It’s basically rugby. (The rules are probably way different, but this is a music blog, so don’t judge.) And hurling? Rugby with a small ball and sticks that look like sporty pizza paddles. (Again, don’t judge.) Gaelic handball? Racquetball, except you use your hands and you’re outside, not in some bougie health club from the ’80s. Finally, rounders? It’s actually alot like baseball. Pretty cool.

Why were the Dead there? A 9/2/71 piece in the Village Voice by Carman Moore, now archived on the Grateful Dead Sources blog, said that Gotham promoter Howard Stein, a Bill Graham competitor who booked the Dead to play at the Cap Theater in Port Chester, NY and the Academy of Music in NYC, had turned “the drab little Riverdale soccer field … into a summer rock mini-festival.” (Check out the poster above.) Moore’s writing has an early-70s sizzle, and he refers to his colleague, now-legendary rock scribe Robert Christgau. Here’s an excerpt:

“Last week’s Grateful Dead concert up at Gaelic Park was a usual Dead session, meaning that the band-to-fan-to-band electro-chemical process for which rock music is famed was on like high mass at Easter. Although I think I know most of the time what they are doing musically (Christgau will like this notion); I don’t quite understand them electro-chemically. Like the New York Knicks of two seasons ago, they can do excellent things together though they are not a group of deathless superstars. Garcia gets his songs across, but he can’t sing, and Bob Weir’s voice rises to about average…maybe better when he gets to screaming and the music sweeps him along. I still find it difficult to recognize the Dead songs that aren’t “Truckin'” or “St. Stephen” one from the other. I am not one of their fans, but seem to be one of their admirers. Their music speaks in a special language to their live listeners, and that language has the vocabulary of everybody else, but a convoluted syntax all its own. The note sequences are not completely dependent upon musical factors but are also dictated by how involved the band feels and also upon what kind of heat the audience is giving off. I’m trying to get to some essences of this thing.

The drama of a Dead concert revolves around the fact that wherever the band plays they know that a certain number (several tons) of their partisans will be there and that their crowd knows the Dead potential to excite them, but they also know that the Dead may not get into gear until the crowd begins to apply some heat, and so forth. Both parties also know that the concert will be long enough and informal enough for anything to happen on either side of the footlights, and so audiences improvise (smoke, go to the hot dog stand, kiss and snuggle, cheer, dance, listen like star-struck fools) just like their musician friends on stage (who play light and funny for awhile, retire backstage awhile, stand around, or get lost in a piece and turn on the heavy jets). Like good lovers, the Grateful Dead know the secrets of good foreplay, taking your time, surprising the partner for awhile, and then just reacting for a spell.”

The timing of the show seems odd. The band was on the East Coast in July, but began August back in Cali – LA, SD, Berkeley – before a three-night run at Chicago’s historic Auditorium Theater. Then they trekked back to NYC. Our resident Deaditor ECM explains that aspect: “This show was supposed to be played the day before the Yale Bowl concert on July 30, but some issues with the equipment trucks and/or weather prevented it from happening from the scheduled date. There are a few stories on the web about people who didn’t get the message (no twitter back then!) and dropped some acid only to show up to an empty stadium. Haha!”

Moore said that the show reminded him of “a high school stadium I used to know – low stands, unfulfilled infield grass, mud holes here and there, beer sold at one end in some quantity.” He continued:

“The formal shape of the concert was a general crescendo, light at the beginning and heavy-groovy at the end – not a shooting-star, call-the-law finale, just a heightened physical-emotional climate…the goods delivered as promised…sort of like good preaching in a church known to be a happy place. I did not enjoy their country-westernish opening tunes; maybe they didn’t either, because the pieces were awfully short. But by the three-quarter mark they had involved themselves, the crowd, and me too.

First they got the rhythm engaged and finally, courtesy of Jerry Garcia’s lead and interplays with Lesh and Weir, they went into the soloing and jamming which are the real magic music territory of this band. Much is made of the Dead soloists, but it became clear to me by last Thursday that bassist Phil Lesh plus those two drummers create the atmosphere that makes the Dead thing possible. The drummers were exceptionally understated, but Lesh kept bopping and thrumming away, heavily at all times, until his patterns were consistently getting the other players off. In the middle of “St. Stephen” there was a special coming together: Lesh had found a nice ambiguous but compelling set of licks; Garcia eased into a solo; Weir strummed a cross-time lick over all of it; it built; it quieted; Garcia started to play strange classical kind of lines; the drums dropped out; the audience got quiet; nothing at all could be predicted for a minute or so; then Lesh began to grope his way out with two chords and rhythms which began to regularize; audience began to jump and then to clap; guitars began to straighten out; the band came home to the cheers of the fans. Good music-making. The listener goes home without a little tune to whistle, but he hears music. As if they were finishing off some personal solos based over the last riffs heard, the fans went out of Gaelic Park without a thousand encores and without a lot of fuss on the streets outside.

It’s all very interesting, surprising, and I guess mystifying as before. All I know is that the Dead, or their fans, or the combination of both lure you into planning to return when they’re all assembled and back in town again.”

Apparently, there was some grief about bootlegs at this show. The GD Sources blog has a post that archives a 10/6/71 piece by the excellently-handled Basho Katzenjammer (Basho, the 17th Century Japanese haiku master; Katzenjammer, the German word for hangover) that gripes about an army of 200# “muscle freaks” at the direction of tour manager Sam Cutler liberating a handful of tapes from 100# weakling Johnny Lee. It’s a truly fun read. An excerpt:

“The biggest piece of shit spewing from Cutler’s mouth is about the reasons the Dead have for being so pissed off: they don’t like the quality (remember Garcia’s line in “I Got No Chance of Losin”? He says, “I’m only in it for the gold.” Yeah, music has a way of being more honest than the artist intends it to be at times…) The “quality”? Anyone who has bought a bootleg recently will know and agree that the bootleg stereo album called “Grateful Dead” is one of the best underground products yet. The tape was taken from a concert the group did at Winterland, on the coast a few months back. Yeah, Garcia fucks up a bit on “Casey Jones,” and Pigpen’s ego may have been deflated a bit by his voice coming over poorly on “Good Loving” but that was a concert. You do a concert and you stand by your performance, good or bad. That’s show business.

This effete artistic bullshit doesn’t matter anyway … When you’re out to get all the money you can out of your gigs, like the Dead seem to be (like all the groups seem to be) you might be accused of being a bit piggish; when you use strong-arm shit to insure that you get every last penny that you deserve — by making Amerikan standards — you are a Pig. Jerry Garcia, is that you?

Nobody buys that anti-bootleg shit about the artistic integrity of the artist in saying what goes out. One, you stand by your performance; two, even if you don’t want to, Jerry, somewhat, and say “all your private property is fair game for your brothers (especially when they sell records of concerts that don’t compete with coming releases) and your brother (who’s gonna continue to dig you as we live off your comets we’re gonna keep ripping you off because it is possible. As simple as that.” If you and Cutler and Stein continue your shit, though, we’ll just have to sing the song the same old way, you guys being put in the position of being the same old reactionary establishment that we’re all ripping off. It’s all around. You break your back playing gigs for ten years and suddenly success is staring you in the face. Bread: lots and lots of bread. You turn your back on your poor, ripping ’em off roots and start to tighten up. You’re in the biggest rip-off industry around, but no one cares as long as they’re having fun.

Money. That’s the whole story, isn’t it? If these were other times, in another land under a different set of rules maybe you could justifiably complain about the people who want to give your recorded performances out free because you didn’t screen them and pick out the sections you didn’t like and do them over for the cat, ’cause no one charges for their music, and because the means of production belong to the people, and they can turn out all the good sounds they can, and you have a natural right to screen all releases. But we’re here. Now. You guys are making millions — or soon will be. Money is power, especially as the concept of money is crumbling nation-wide and power freaks like Stein are cornering the market on it. The channels that the green-power the Dead bring in travel aren’t the healthiest for the generations of revolution to come. Stein is one of these hopeful images of a freak with a chance to change things positively gone sour, who uses all his power to consolidate his power; who’ll go to any extremes to insure the natural expansion of that power. Fuck him. Fuck you.”

Speak, Basho! Quaint that the beef about bootlegs back then was sound quality, rather than copyright. Stuff got figured out at some point, I think. Like when Bobby shut down the LMA, lmao.

Ed featured part of this show in the 2016 edition of his epcot 31 Days of Dead project. Here are his listening notes, which are typically spot-on (and better than than the not-quite-on-the-bus commentary from Mr. Moore): 

“Less than three weeks after Pigpen’s definitive performance of Hard To Handle at the Hollywood Palladium (8/6/71), the Grateful Dead play the final date of their summer tour in 1971 at Gaelic Park in the Bronx. It will be Pig’s last show until December and the last time the band will ever perform in their original quintet configuration of Jerry, Phil, Pig, Billy and Bobby. By September, Keith will be rehearsing with the band to assume a full-time role on the keys. Perhaps anticipating his absence, Pigpen leads the band through 6 of his songs including the rarely-played Empty Pages and the last Hard To Handle. It is also one of the last performances of Saint Stephen, until the band revived it in 1976 with a major facelift, never to be played the same way again. When you consider these historical milestones along with the departure of Mickey Hart and the closings of the legendary Fillmore East and West earlier in the year it makes you realize that this concert carried a little more weight than anyone could have ever foreseen at the time. It truly was the end of a chapter in the life of the Grateful Dead. As you listen to each song you can’t help but feel a certain degree of nostalgia.

For me, the hidden gem of the show is the outstanding version of Uncle Johns Band. Jerry’s first guitar solo is an absolute joy to hear. His notes sing with irresistible melody and happy sunshine which perfectly capture the nostalgia of those carefree early years. If you listen closely you can hear Pigpen playing the wood claves.”

Speaking of Pig, this show features the second and final performance of Empty Pages. The NYS Music blog, which has a nice write-up of this show, describes it as a McKernan original that “pairs his traditional crooning style with a slow blues jam that’s nicely peppered with fiery guitar licks from Garcia. It’s a true rarity and a shame that the band wouldn’t be able to further develop this one.”

I feel like this was a try-hard post. It might be tl;dr, idk. Here’s the true goodness…

Transport to the Charlie Miller remaster of the soundboard recording HERE.

More soon.

JF

from WordPress https://ift.tt/3koAeEV via IFTTT

[smol-and-grumpy]

Teacher Of The Year - P.09

Pairing: Professor Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Heartbroken and restless, she walked into a bar with the full intention of getting smashed but she got more than she bargained for. Much more.

Warnings: Angst, sexual harassment

WC: 3138

SERIES MASTERLIST

She’s going to a party tonight. Because that’s apparently what students do. Students should go to frat parties and enjoy their college experience to the fullest. At least that’s what her friend Anna told her when she suggested it to her.

Anna doesn’t really know that all Y/N wants is actually to be holed up with Dean in his tiny apartment and watch history documentaries in black and white until she falls asleep and he would nudge her awake when there’s an interesting part coming up. She loves that, loves to just spend time with him, even if they don’t fuck. Well, they do, a lot actually, but there’s also times where they are comfortable around each other. Where they would talk and watch TV, where they would cook together and study together. She likes all of that. That’s more her thing. Dean is more her thing. Not some stupid frat party. But she couldn’t say no to that, if she doesn’t want people to get suspicious.

Her friend knows that she’s occasionally seeing someone. Someone named D. Who she met on tinder, but that’s what young people do and she’s no exception. Anna doesn’t know that D is Dean. Anna doesn’t know that Dean is her history professor because Anna is an art student and doesn’t have any classes with Dean. And Anna certainly doesn’t know that she fucks Dean on a regular basis. 

They’re in her tiny dorm room, and she’s glad that she has a room to herself actually. Her roommate decided not to start but hasn’t really pulled herself out of the rooming list either, and the room is paid for in advance, they keep the bed empty and she guesses that it’s a win because the last thing she wants is for a nosy roommate to ask her where she’s at when she’s not here. 

Anna would occasionally crash here when it’s too late for her to go back to her own dorm but it doesn’t happen a lot because Anna prefers to sleep in her own bed. Not that she doesn’t like Anna. They have known each other since high school, even grew up on the same street but as much as Y/N is social, she is also very antisocial when it comes to her privacy. Now even more than before.

Anna sits on the other empty bed applying finishing touches to her make up, is already dressed to impress with her tube top and a short skirt. She certainly wants to score tonight, Y/N can see that. 

She is still standing awkwardly in front of her closet, and doesn't know what to wear. She doesn’t want to go all out but she doesn’t want to come across as a prude either. 

“My god, if you take any longer the party will be over when we get there,” Anna slowly grows impatient because Y/N can’t seem to be able to decide on her outfit. 

“I have nothing to wear,” She sighs.

“That’s bullshit!” Anna laughs a little and walks over in her super high heels before she begins to rummage through Y/N’s clothes. 

She watches as Anna pulls out a black off shoulder top with ruffles. After some more rummaging, Anna finds a white jean short to go with it. “Here,” She says, hands it to Y/N. 

Y/N takes it, there’s so much she wants to say, though. That she doesn’t feel comfortable showing so much skin around so many drunk guys, that she doesn’t really want to go at all but it’s Anna. It’s her friend. She should fucking pull herself together. 

So she wears it, lets Anna help her apply makeup on her face and they’re off. It’s weird walking around on heels, she doesn’t wear them a lot, not at all actually, so when they arrive at the party, her feet are already hurting like hell. 

The house is already packed and she holds on to Anna’s hand when the other girl shoves her way through the crowd. She’s actually glad that Anna is such a confident persona, Anna doesn’t take shit from anyone and she knows how to take care of herself. Y/N high-key admires her friend.

They have found the bar and Anna pours them both a shot glass of clear liquid, holds it out for her, “Cheers,” 

Y/N smiles, tips the glass to her lips and throws her head back. She swallows and squints her eyes at the burn. They take another one, and she actually welcomes the alcohol, she would probably even need one or two more to make the party more tolerable in her eyes.

Anna then pulls her to the dance floor and it wasn’t long until they were surrounded by a bunch of dudes. Y/N sees that her friend quite enjoys it, enjoys the attention the boys are giving her but somehow, she feels that it’s slowly getting too much for her. One of the boys behind her back starts to weave his arm around her waist and she doesn’t want that, so she takes his hands and pushes him away. She thought that he would make a scene but he was obviously too drunk to even care so she tells Anna that she goes to the bar and waits for her there. Anna only nods with a smile as she locks her arm around one of the dude’s neck. 

Y/N gets a beer and stands off to the side of the bar, pulls out her phone from her clutch to see if there’s a message from Dean but there’s none, so she places her phone back and looks into the crowd. She sees that Anna is locking lips with the dude already, and they haven’t even been here for an hour. Has to chuckle at Anna’s determination because if it’s the other way around it would have taken her at least the whole night to settle for a guy, and knowing her, she’d probably be going home alone in the end anyway.

Her eyes scan the room, looking for someone she knows because Y/N knows that it’s only a matter of time until Anna will tell her that she’s gonna go home with a guy and leave her here alone. Y/N think that she’ll only stay for a while longer if there’s someone here that she knows and if not, she’s happy to call it a night and go home. There’s really no need for her to spend more time with a bunch of drunks if she doesn’t really have to.

Looking around some more she almost chokes on her drink when she sees someone familiar, her body goes rigid. 

Dean.

What is he doing here? 

He’s talking to a couple of boys, they’re standing off to the side of the dance floor and he has a plastic cup in his hand. She can’t stop staring. What is a fucking professor doing at a frat party?

After a while he notices her, and it might be subtle to anyone but her, but his lips curve up a little and he nods at her while he still listens to what the boys are telling him. 

And, oh my god, one of those boys is her ex. 

This is great. So fucking great. 

Fun-fucking-tastic.

Her ex sees her, because he looks in the direction where Dean’s looking at, and she can’t hide, there’s just not enough time to hide. And of course her ex now walks over to where she’s standing. 

She can see Dean watching her ex walk in her direction, is wondering what he thinks.

“Hey,” Adam says and he’s drunk, she can see that. His eyes are glassy and maybe he even smoked pot before. She doesn’t know. Doesn’t really fucking care. 

“Hi,” She says in return, because she’s polite. 

Adam braces his elbow on the bar top, “You like the party?” 

“Well, you didn’t throw it, did you?” She can’t remember that he’s in a fraternity.

He laughs, loud, throws his head back and all, and it wasn’t even funny. “No, a friend of mine lives here. He did it. I helped a bit, though.” Adam tells her as if it matters. As if she’ll be impressed. 

“And what’s that professor doing here?” She asks, tries to stay nonchalant. 

Adam looks back to see Dean still staring at them. “Oh, that one. He’s cool. They invited him because he seems to be a cool professor. You know him?”

“I have history with him.” 

Adam chuckles, “You have history with me too,” His chuckle turns into a laugh, “See what I did there?” 

Y/N rolls her eyes. Her ex really thinks he’s the funniest thing since sliced bread. 

Thankfully Anna comes to interrupt them and she pulls Y/N aside. In the corner of her eyes, she sees Adam pouring himself a line of shot glasses, she wonders who it’s for but she didn’t have to wait long because that dude downs all by himself. 

“Listen,” Anna starts to say.

“Wait, let me guess,” Y/N cuts her off. “You’re going to abandon me for that guy over there who’s looking at us with your lipstick stains still on his lips, right?”

Anna takes a look back, grins like a winner, “Yeah, I’m sorry?”

Y/N smiles back at her friend, “Don’t be. That’s okay, I’ll go home soon anyway. Adam’s here.”

Her friend throws her arms around Y/N’s neck, kisses her cheek, “You’re the best!” With that, she’s off to whatshisname and Y/N returns to her beer, doesn’t think she’ll drink it anymore, though because she left it unattended. 

It’s not even a minute later when Adam found his way back to her, now visibly drunk and slurring his speech a little, too. He waves an arm around her middle and she holds her hand up between them, places it on his chest. 

“‘M sorry,” He slurs, “I made a big mistake.”

“You did.” She answers coldly.

His free hand comes up to play with her locks. “Fuck, you look so fucking good in that slutty outfit.”

“Adam, stop,” She says, loud and clear.

But as drunk Adam is, he doesn’t listen, instead pulls her closer and she arches her back away from him. “Did you wear it for me, huh? Tell me you miss me.”

“I’m not telling you that. Fucking stop!” She tries to push him away harder but he doesn't budge.

“Oh, you do. You miss my cock, don’t you?” He leans closer, his hands grips tight around her waist, the tips of his fingers digging into her flesh. “I don’t think anyone can fuck you as good as I can.”

“Adam, you’re fucking drunk. I don’t want this, fucking stop and let go of me, now!” She balls her fist, hits his chest but he just chuckles. 

His face is so close and the wave of alcohol that hits her nostrils are making her nauseous.

“Hey, buddy!” Someone calls out. The voice is deep and low, loud above the music. “I think she said stop.”

She can see Dean standing right behind Adam. There’s a frown on Dean’s face and he’s angry. His fists are balled on the side of his body. 

“Nobody asked you to interrupt, professor. I thought you were cool.” Adam snickers and then he turns back to her, raises his eyebrow and launches forward, tries to kiss her. Her only reaction was to arch her back even more, to push herself away harder. 

“Hey!” Dean grabs Adam by his shoulder to which Adam lets go of her and turns around, connects his fist to Dean’s face at lightning speed, which in turn, sends Dean tumbling a couple of steps back. Dean’s glasses fly away from his nose and lands on the floor. Someone picked it up and gave it back to Dean but he didn’t care about that right now. 

“Y/N?” Dean just says. His voice is calm but still loud, full of authority. “I want you to come stand behind me where I know you’re safe.”

She nods, her eyes already teary, and walks around, shakes Adam off when he tries to touch her again. 

There’s a lot of people around, she notices the one who’s filming. He already started to film when Adam hit Dean. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Adam shouts, his speech so slurred and everyone knows that he’s had way too much to drink. He’s poking at Dean’s chest with his finger, shoves Dean around but Dean just stands there, not doing anything. 

“You’re drunk and it’s best if you go home.” Dean’s trying to reason with Adam.

“I’m going home with her.” Adam says, points his chin towards her and she shakes her head no. 

“I don’t think that she’s going home with you, buddy. She just told you to stop while you kept harassing her. That’s not really a nice thing to do, is it?”

“Fuck you,” Adam spits out, shoves Dean away one more time before he hits Dean again. 

Dean bows a short moment before he stands up right again, grins a little as he brushes away the blood from his split lips. He then turns to her, places his hands on her shoulder, “I want you to go home now, alright? Can you do that for me?” 

She nods, and cries, too. 

Dean brushes the tear away from her face with the pad of his thumb. “Okay, go.”

She turns around, walks out and the only thing she can now hear is someone shattering bottles and noises of people. Whether they were stopping the fight or cheering them on, she wouldn’t know because she’s now at the front door and makes her way out into the dark street. 

Dean walks up the stairs to his apartment and it takes him unusually long. His bones feel heavy, his fist hurt and his face hurts even more. He has to fucking remind himself that he’s too old for this shit. 

However, when he walks to his door, his heart starts to race and gone is the feeling of tiredness and aching bones. 

Y/N’s sit in front of his door. She hugs her knees to her chest, her head is on top of them and she has her eyes closed. 

He crouches down, touches her softly, doesn’t want to scare her. “Hey,” He says and when he sees her blinking, he adds, “You okay?”

She looks at him now and nods her head, her eyes are red rimmed, what’s left of the mascara are smeared around her eyes. Dean hopes that nothing happened on the way back here, feels immensly stupid for telling her to go back alone.  

“Good,” He says, and stands back up, holds out a hand for her to take and he helps her up, “You wanna come in?”

She nods again.

Dean unlocks the door, lets her go in first. They move in silence and he walks over to the fridge to get water. He drinks from it, hands the rest to her. 

He begins to walk to the bathroom, “I’m gonna take a shower, and then we sleep, okay? It’s late.” 

“Okay,” She says, finishing the water.

He’s standing under the spray of warm water, lets it wash away the stupid night, wash away the blood and alcohol stuck to his body. He had his eyes closed and didn’t even notice the sway of the curtain. When he opens his eyes again, she’s standing in the shower with him. 

Wordlessly, he opens his arms for her, lets her bury her face into his chest. She’s crying, and Dean holds her tighter, kisses the top of her head. “It’s okay.” He whispers, hopes she hears it above the sound of the running water. 

He feels embarrassed that he’s hard. But that’s really what always happens when she’s close.

After the shower, he wraps her up into a towel, carries her to his bed, picks out a t-shirt for her to wear and lays himself next to her before covering both of them with the sheets.

She crawls into his arm, lays her head on his shoulder and he kisses her forehead. 

“‘M sorry,” She mumbles, turns her head and buries it into the crook of his neck. 

“‘S okay,”

“Are you okay? Hurt? Do you want me to get pain killers?” Her voice soft, tickling his skin.

Dean turns a little, cups her face with his free hand, trails his thumb along her cheek, “I’m okay, don’t worry, alright?” 

“Okay,” Her gaze falls downwards.

“Hey, look at me,” Dean whispers, and she does, looks at him, her eyes still watery. He kisses her then, soft, let’s his tongue trail along her bottom lip and she opens up for him so nicely, granting him access. Dean has to break away before it can get too heated. 

“Can we,” She starts to say and pauses before she adds, “Can we just sleep tonight?” 

“Yeah,” Dean chuckles, “That sounds actually great. My body hurts.”

“Thank you,” She mumbles when she buries her face back into his neck, “For standing up for me.”

“Anytime,” Dean trails his fingers along her spine under the covers, strokes her gently, “He’s a jerk. You said no, and that should be final.”

“What happened after I left?” 

“I hit him back, sending him flying over the bartop. The police came, he didn’t press charges, neither did I.”

“Will you get in trouble for that?” 

Dean turns himself around, facing her, embraces her with his other arm and pulls her close, kisses her nose, her forehead. “I don’t think so. Everyone saw that he started first.”

“I’m sorry to have put you in that situation in the first place.”

“It’s really not your fault. It’s good you ditched that jerk, though.” 

Yeah, Adam is a fucking jerk, Dean’s right about that. 

He kisses her again, gently, lips ghosting over hers, feather light. 

They’re lying there for a long time, neither of them able to fall asleep.

“You know,” Dean starts to say, pauses to think before he goes on, “It’s not my place to tell you who to date. You’re young, you’re supposed to enjoy yourself but please, if you could stay away from jerks, that’d be great.”

She thinks about his words, thinks about what she should say, because how could she say that she doesn’t want to date? Doesn’t want anyone else? How could she say that she wants it to be his place to tell her who to date? Wants him to tell her that she’s his and no one else's? How could she tell him that she’s falling for him and all she wants is him? She doesn’t know, so all she says is, “I’ll try.” 

 P.10

[nekojitachan]

Okay, so there was this post, about where I was stuck at a rather miserable wedding. And in the comments, @fuzzballsheltiepants left a comment about imagining being stuck at the wedding with Neil and Andrew at the table.

Well, guess you could say that it inspired this fic.

No real warnings here, other than Neil stirring up trouble. Oh, and drink responsibly.

*******

“Who the hell does a puzzle game at a wedding?”

The left corner of Neil’s mouth twitched upward at the hint of indignation in his husband’s voice; he glanced over to find Andrew, his expression bored (better than murderous), gazing around the room with a half-empty plastic cup held in his left hand. He looked so handsome in his black suit with dark grey dress shirt (sans tie), blond hair freshly trimmed and bangs brushed back from his forehead. Yet for all the enticing picture he made at the moment, Neil would much rather he be dressed in a pair of comfortable sweats – that they both be in sweats and at their townhouse, busy making dinner and spoiling the cats than stuck at Regan’s wedding.

Unfortunately, it seemed that when the captain of your Exy team got married, you were expected to attend the event, especially if you were a married couple yourself and they helped back a transfer that got the two of you on the same team at last.

Dammit.

“I must admit, that’s the first I’ve heard of it – if anything, Nicky would have had it at his wedding.” Neil smiled when Andrew snorted at that, considering the spectacle the event had already been. “Or suggested it for ours.” When his husband grimaced, his smile widened. “Though to be fair, I think seeing who could pick a lock fastest would have been more ‘us’.”

“That or break out of handcuffs,” Andrew suggested while giving him a narrow look for some reason, then finished the last of his whiskey. “But we were smart enough to skip all of this nonsense.” Their ceremony had lasted five minutes, tops, at the courthouse and included only their most ‘necessary pests’ (Andrew’s words).

“True,” Neil murmured as he glanced around the large room crowded with people; some he knew since they were teammates, but most were strangers – Regan’s family and friends, or Sarah’s, he supposed. He’d only known the Dynamite’s captain for a few months, not counting the occasional meet-up when his former team played Andrew’s, and so wasn’t that familiar with the man’s fiancée.

Certainly not familiar enough to feel as if he should be stuck at the man’s wedding, but Regan wanted his team there for some reason, so Neil (and Andrew) had to suffer through the thing. Strict orders had been given – they couldn’t leave until after the cake had been cut and handed out.

Dammit.

At least there was an open bar, which they braved yet again so Andrew could have another drink (Neil stuck with juice since he wasn’t comfortable having more than a glass or two of beer or cider with his new teammates), but it seemed by then that the servers were done walking around with appetizers. Andrew stood there radiating indignation while Dave (backliner) introduced Neil to his wife, Laura, then clicked his tongue in disgust once they left. “They said the reception would start at 5:30. That was ten minutes ago.”

“Uhm, these things tend to run late?” Neil winced at the spark of irritation in his husband’s hazel eyes. “Maybe there’s something left at the cheese table.”

That seemed to appease the walking black hole, at least for the moment; they went into the one room where a cheese and vegetable spread had been placed (and a small classical quartet played music), and found that it hadn’t been entirely picked clean just yet.

They also found Mark, the team’s sub goalie, being berated by a guest who appeared determined to convert him to a vegan lifestyle. “-much better for the planet if you stop murdering animals because you ‘like a nice steak now and then’,” the young woman sneered.

Neil was bored, stuck wearing a suit (even if Andrew had picked it out for him and it always led to a quite enjoyable time later when it came to removing it) and would much rather be home, so he decided ‘what the hell’ because when would he see most of these people again? “Actually,” he informed the woman as he cut into her tirade, “there are some downsides to a vegan lifestyle. I mean, unless you’re growing everything yourself with sustainability in mind, you can negatively impact the environment even if you’re not ‘murdering animals’.” He gave her a cold smile as he nodded to her fake leather purse and shoes. “Think plastic is good for the planet? Or when you just have to have your latest fad vegetable or grain to the point you don’t care how it impacts the area around it?” He tried to remember some of the other arguments Allison had made during their last visit together, but it seemed that he’d already annoyed the woman enough as she’d taken to glaring at him (along with her date for the evening) while Mark smiled in relief and Andrew continued to decimate what remained of the cheese.

“You don’t have to be an asshole,” she snapped before she stomped away (with date in tow), and even tossed her long, black hair over her shoulder in emphasis.

“Thanks.” Mark gave him a relieved smile then took a swig of his beer. “All I did was make a joke about if she thought we’d be lucky enough to have steak for dinner and she went off on me. What happened to ‘each their own’, eh?”

“We’re with you there,” Neil agreed; personally, he didn’t care about one’s lifestyle choices as long as they didn’t impact others, and wished that more people felt the same.

He talked with Mark and Jennie (offensive dealer) who joined the discussion while Andrew basically cleared the table, and then it was back to the bar (some people better have a ride home or plan on cutting themselves off soon, because it was clear the long wait for dinner was not a good thing). “You just can’t resist stirring up shit, can you?” Andrew mused as he swirled the whiskey (at least the bar was stocked with semi-decent liquor or Neil suspected they’d have been long gone, ‘cake’ rule or no cake rule).

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” Neil kept a straight face until Andrew scoffed, then smiled enough that the scar on his left cheek ached from stretching so much.

They snuck outside to smoke (one of their five cigarettes each of the day), uncaring of the cold when they were alone and able to enjoy each other’s company in silence for a little while. Then it was back inside, where they found a quiet corner to wait (well, except for when Andrew bitched and bitched about how Regan had no fucking clue how to tell time) for the reception hall to be ready.

Almost an hour and a half later than it had said on the invite, the doors were opened and they were ‘invited’ to sit at their arranged tables for the reception part of the wedding. Regan and Sarah had set things up so the players were scattered amongst their family and friends.

Somehow, Neil wasn’t surprised (not with his luck) to find himself at the same table as the vegan couple.

She gave him and Andrew a cold look and immediately made it clear that she and her boyfriend were the best of friends with another couple at the table, which left two other couples for Neil and Andrew to talk to for the next hour or two. Except that Andrew had never gotten along very well with Lucas, who helped with the team’s media accounts (which meant that Neil didn’t, either), and the other couple were related to Sarah and had kids, so Neil listened to them ramble on for a couple of minutes about nine-to-five jobs and toddlers and just lost focus around the time they mentioned ‘day-care’.

“We’re going back to the bar, and this time distract the bartender while I grab the bottle of whiskey,” Andrew murmured in German.

Considering that vegan-girl was going on about some amazing quinoa recipe, Neil figured that it was the best thing possible, or else he’d be calling Renee to help him break his husband out of prison for mass homicide.

On second thought, it might be a good idea to text her just in case…..

While the maid of honor rambled on about what a precious saint Sarah was, he smiled at the one bartender (who appeared exhausted and looking forward to a break, now that people were seated and about to be fed), and asked about gin drinks while inching a twenty toward the tip jar, and walked off with a gin and tonic he would sadly have to ignore (especially since it was obvious that he’d be driving home) while a smug Andrew cradled his illicit goods beneath his coat back to the table.

Andrew stared everyone down as he drank straight from the bottle, while Neil had never been so grateful to see a salad appear in front of him in his life.

That and the bread baskets had to last them until it was their table’s turn to go to the buffet for any real food, and of course they were table ten. “Isn’t it odd, how all of a sudden the balls seem attracted to Regan’s head,” Andrew said as he snatched up the last two rolls, much to Lucas’ ire.

“Or his car tires are always deflated.” Neil hadn’t thought that the backliner had disliked them, but he was beginning to revise that opinion. “Good thing we didn’t go with the one bar set he wanted as a gift.”

“No, he deserves that horrid vase.” A slight shiver of distaste ran through Andrew’s stocky body.

“Ah, it’s rude to talk in a language no one else understands,” vegan-girl’s bestie said with evident disapproval, never mind that most of the table had been carrying on a conversation together - without Andrew and Neil.

Andrew gave her a blank look while Neil offered his father’s smile until she blanched. “Not our fault you don’t understand it,” he said before he rolled his eyes and turned back to his husband. “Make sure to throw the balls really, really hard.”

The look he received from his ‘better half’ made it clear that he needn’t have said anything.

While they waited for their turn, Neil exchanged a few texts with Renee (Andrew appeased for the moment, but chance for bloodshed still possible, while she mentioned various flight arrivals, that Allison was excited about her upcoming fashion line and that a care package was on its way to them). For his part, Andrew sipped the whiskey while he recited a German drinking song with rather dubious lyrics in a rote manner in an obvious attempt to annoy their dinner-mates.

(It worked.)

Everyone appeared relieved when it was finally their turn to eat; vegan-besties tried to get there first, but Andrew blocked speeding balls for a living while Neil dealt with people larger than him trying to knock him down all the time, so they had no problems getting to the buffet ahead of everyone else. Neil threw a smile over his shoulder at the couple while Andrew grabbed their plates.

At least the food looked decent; Andrew loaded up on the lasagna, fried chicken sliders and prawns, while Neil had the first two and a bowl of fruit salad; the vegetables were roundly ignored.

When vegan-girl saw their plates at the table, she glared (especially at Andrew, who was busy breaking apart the pieces of lasagna). “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

Could she not see the bowl of fruit? Neil opened his mouth to argue and then thought better of it – Renee would be slightly peeved if she had to break both of them out of jail, after all. “What type of cake do you think it is, hmm? Chocolate? Vanilla? Almond?”

“It better be the best damn cake in the world after putting up with this shit,” Andrew muttered between bites of food.

On that they both agreed.

It was quiet while everyone ate, which Neil put down to everyone being hungry, and then the married couple made noises about it being late (not really) and the babysitter and kids. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised when first the wife left the table and then the husband once their plates were empty, and neither returned after ten minutes.

He was jealous as hell.

Even though there had been a couple of (thankfully short) speeches when the Regan and Sarah had entered the large room, Regan’s best man (Tim, his brother) got up to say a few more words and then the cake was wheeled into the room. Neil and Andrew perked up at that, even though it looked to be covered in that awful fondant icing and lots of gold dust. There was more talking (why?) between Regan and Sarah, and then they finally cut the damn thing.

“Maybe we’ll be out of here soon,” Andrew murmured as he tapped his fingers against the top of the table.

“One can hope.” The next time they got any invitations that weren’t from their fellow Foxes in the mail, Neil was going to come down with a case of food poisoning or something instead of suffer through another wedding.

Andrew got up from the table at one point, so Neil pulled out his phone to text with Renee some more to ask her what she thought might bring on some convincing flu-like symptoms for a couple of days (he’d ask Aaron, but chances were fifty/fifty that the bastard might poison him for real) while he half-expected the fire alarm to go off.

Especially when Andrew didn’t come back in ten minutes.

(He knew his husband hadn’t gone off without him, because then there would be bloodshed.)

Andrew finally returned bearing two plates overloaded with cookies, of all things. “That’s not cake.”

“Nice to see you haven’t taken too many hits to the head yet,” Andrew remarked as he pushed something round, white and covered in powdered sugar toward Neil, who regarded it with some suspicion but bit into it regardless; it was a shortbread cookie with walnuts so not bad. “There’s a cookie table out there.”

“Really?” Neil thought about that while Lucas’ wife (who actually nice) looked on with interest. “Okay, why?”

Andrew shrugged and had another cookie, some rolled thing with filling. “Something about Sarah being from Pennsylvania and it being a tradition there, from what the server told me.” Knowing Andrew, all he cared about was that there were sweets readily available.

Neil leaned against his husband while the glutton ate his way through the cookies, and smiled when a pumpkin spice cookie was nudged his way (it was good). When twenty minutes went by and still no cake but a DJ invited people (more like harassed) onto the dance floor, Andrew made a slight growling noise, had another swig of whiskey and went to fetch more cookies.

It was beginning to feel like they’d never leave the damn wedding, that they were trapped there forever. Neil had survived a life on the run, had lasted through two (three) weeks at Evermore, had been tortured, so refused to be broken by this evening.

But dammit, it was hard.

Especially when the DJ started playing Justin Bieber.

When Andrew began to slide his fingers beneath the cuffs of his sleeves, Neil knew that they had to leave, and they had to leave now. “Go get our coats,” he whispered in his husband’s left ear, followed by a slight nuzzle. When Andrew gave him a curious look, mindful of their instructions for the night, he smiled in a confident (well, Nicky called it his ‘oh shit we’re dead’ grin) manner. “Trust me.”

“I’m not that drunk,” Andrew insisted, yet grabbed the bottle of whiskey which did have a good bit left in it still and left the table.

Neil couldn’t resist giving a chilling smile to the remaining people at the table, which made them cringe back, before he headed to the kitchen. The staff was surprised to see him and tried to politely shoo him away, but all it took was holding up two fifties and explaining how his spouse had a headache so he needed two slices of cake (which was already cut and plated, so what the hell was the hold-up?) to go.

They were only too happy to box those two slices for him.

He made sure to take pictures of the slices, which he’d provide to Coach Denham to prove that he and Andrew had remained at the damn wedding until they’d gotten their cake, per instructions.

Cake in hand, he left the busy staff to their work and headed to the front door, where Andrew should be waiting for him. Andrew and their coats… and a large platter covered with cookies, apparently.

“Uhm….”

“Let’s go,” Andrew said as he shoved Neil’s coat into his arms.

Neil wasn’t going to ask, not when his husband radiated barely contained annoyance and there weren’t any dead bodies (that he knew of, which was all that mattered).

The cake box in the back seat of the Maserati and the cookie platter firmly held on Andrew’s lap, Neil smoothly shifted the car into gear to drive them home. “For any future weddings, we’re out of town,” Andrew declared before he bit into a brownie.

“Agreed.”

It was a peaceful drive home, the only sound the purr of the car’s engine and Andrew munching on cookies. Once they were inside their townhouse, Neil put the cake and the remaining cookies (he smiled when he noticed that Andrew had gotten more of the pumpkin ones for him) away, then fed the cats, who acted as if they were such starved creatures.

When he straightened up, Andrew was next to him. “Hey,” Neil breathed out, his smile strengthening as he was tugged closer by broad hands on his hips. “Renee was ready to fly out here and help me stage a jailbreak in case you snapped tonight.”

“It was close,” Andrew admitted. “Someone tried to get me out on the dance floor, but Terri cut her off before she lost her arm.”

And probably more than that, knowing Andrew, Neil thought with a slight wince; he would have to thank his fellow striker next week. “Well, we’re home now, you still have some sweets left despite everything, and I’ve this suit which I can’t quite remember how to take off.” Neil batted his eyelashes a couple of times. “Won’t you help me?”

“Pathetic as always, Josten,” Andrew sneered, but the heat in his lovely hazel eyes had nothing to do with anger or disgust.

“Josten-Minyard,” Neil reminded him before he was tugged down for a kiss, a pleased hum escaping as warm, strong hands slipped beneath his jacket.

The evening might have been horrible, but he couldn’t complain about the sugar rush from all those cookies Andrew had eaten, oh no.

*******

Ok, I really do need to get back to some in progress fics. But that was mildly amusing (and cathartic).

[meowdymista]

In For A Penny - Arthur x Female Reader

Notes: Adult content for an adult game.

Words: 5220

Arthur Morgan x Female Reader

Now on AO3!

Riding in to camp at Clemens Point, it quickly becomes clear a celebration is underway. The upbeat music and loud chatter advise a steady flow of alcohol, long before Bill staggers up to the hitching posts with a whiskey bottle in each hand.

“Mr Morgan! Have a drink with us!”

Arthur chuckles, rolling his eyes as Bill shoves the emptier of the two into his hand. “Thanks, Bill. What’re we celebrating?”

“I don’t really remember,” he slurs, continuing on past to his horse and raiding its saddle bag. “Sean saw some working girl in Rhodes…?”

Dismounting, he scans the camp and spots you by the fireside with Tilly and Karen. “A working girl, you say?” he asks, but Bill has found the opened bottles of fine brandy he robbed off some travellers earlier and is swaying his way over to the medical tent. 

He removes his hunted gains from his horse’s flanks and takes a large swig of the honey coloured spirit, not averting his gaze.

“Hey, Arthur!”

“Hey, Lenny, how you doin’?” He slams the carcass onto Pearson’s table and drains the bottle, joining the young man leaning against the tree trunk.

“I’m good. Hey, you heard about Sean?”

“Something about him and a working girl?” He looks over to you again, surprised by the camp’s reaction to you. Usually when an outside woman is brought in, the camp splits down the middle, with the women and Strauss on one side, and the more confident, virile men closest to the poor soul brought in for the evening’s entertainment. Somehow you have found your way into the former, with the exception of Javier who is singing on the dirt by your feet.

“Yeah, a girl he met in Valentine! He-”

“Art’er Morgan!”

“Mr Macguire.”

“Pour yerself a drink!” Sean pushes a tin cup into Arthur’s chest, raising his own into the air and sloshing it down on the group. “We’re celebratin’!”

“Tha’s clear enough to see,” he growls, smirking “But the details are still a little hazy.”

“Oh, it’s a good story, Mr Morgan! It’s a good’un. See, back in Valentine after you boys picked me up from them bounty hunters, I borrowed a few dollars of Bill to get meself cleaned up see-”

“Not that the smell changed much,” winks Lenny, earning himself a laugh. He pats Arthur on the shoulder and moves off to join the fire.

“Bastard,” scoffs Sean, scowling. “Anyways, where was I? Oh yeah, I found myself talkin’ to a lovely lady with a beautiful face and, you know-” He gestures at his chest with his hands spread, laughing. 

Ignoring him, Arthur sniffs the cup. “What’ve you put in this? Stinks of moonshine!”

“Nah, it’s whisky! Maybe gin… Maybe bit of everything, but you’re interruptin’ me there! Again! Do you want to know what we’re celebratin’ or not?”

“Fine.” He takes a swig and almost spits it out. Definitely moonshine.

“Well see, of course I needed to support the local economy of that muddy town, so I take her up to bed and we have a grand ol’ time! Honestly, it’s up there as one of the bests!” (“One of the few in total,” comments Charles on his way past.) “Anyways, after we say our goodbyes and I throw her the I’m too young to be settlin’ routine, I ride back to Horseshoe. Tha’s the end o’ tha’, bla dee bla, and then we come crashing into this place.

"All’s well, Mr Morgan. It’s been a coupl’ o’ months and I figure, hey, we’ve had some good scores, I reckon I’ve earned meself a wee pat on the back since none th’ rest o’ you fellers are doin’ it for me. I decided to get me revolver all done up nice at the gunsmit’ in Rhodes when I see her fanning herself outside the parlour house.

“You could have knocked me down wit’ a feather, Arthur! She’s leaning up against a pillar, with her belly out here!” He gestures again, his hand two feet from his untucked shirt. “I thought I’d had it, Morgan! Saw my life flash before me eyes! Sean Macguire, washed up at twenty t’ree!”

“So, we’re celebratin’ you becoming a daddy?”

“Oh no, Mr Morgan! No, we’re celebratin’ that I’m not going to be a pappy, and Ol’ Scar Face gets to keep his title as shitty dad of t’year!”

“I can hear you, you son of a bitch!” cries John from the poker table. Sean waves a hand in his direction dismissively.

“What makes you so sure?” asks Arthur.

“Because she was knocked up before she met me!” He grins widely, trying to instill the same excitement in his audience. Instead Arthur shakes his head, taking another swig, before cursing at the cups remembered contents and tipping it into the grass. “I’m just going down in history as a motherfucker! Not a pappy! How great is that?”

“For the kid? Oh, I’m sure he’s thrilled to pieces!” he says coldly.

“Ouch! Would you rather have another Jack in camp?”

“I would rather you stop risking becoming a father if you ain’t ready to be one!”

“Is that what you told Marston?”

“It’s what every boy is told when he becomes a man!” Arthur grabs a beer from a nearby crate, trying and failing to hide his frustration. “I guess no one ever thought you grown up enough to say.”

The redhead staggers, clutching his shirt. “Ooft, Mr Morgan, you're pulling me heart out me chest! I thought you’d be happy for me!”

“Mm, more like happy for the kid in question.” He looks back over to you, watching you laugh. Immediately he feels himself relax. “So who’s she? You bring her in to celebrate, or somethin’?”

“Who? Y/N?” Sean tops up Arthur’s cup, but he doesn’t notice. At that same moment, you look up and meet his gaze. He holds it hungrily, but Karen interrupts, offering you another drink, forcing you to look away. “Nah, she joined us couple nights back. Musta been the first night you was off huntin’ if you’ve not met her yet.”

“Y/N? That her real name?”

“As far as I know, but you know me, I don’t ask much.” Sean laughs and walks away, leaving Arthur to drain his beer in one.

“Everythin’ alright?”

He starts, pulling his eyes off you to find Abigail getting herself a bowl of stew. Unable to remember his last meal, he follows suit.

“Yeah, just gettin’ lost in my head I guess.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mean it. Sean, I mean.” She gives him a sad smile. “Think he’s just scared of what could have been and relieved it isn’t.”

“Well, like I said, if he ain’t ready to be a daddy-”

“No one’s ever ready to be a parent. Hell, I was scared shitless when I found out I was expecting Jack, and then John…” “John’s scared of his own reflection.” This earns him a laugh as he tears them each a chunk of bread to go with their meal.

“You can’t tell me you weren’t scared when you found out about Eliza?”

“Oh, Miss Roberts, you don’t know the half of it.” They chuckle quietly, the warm evening air suddenly sombre. “Terrified is more like it, but I guess that went away soon enough.” His eyes drag back to you and how your smile lights up by the fire. “Say, who brought in Y/N?”

Abigail follows his gaze to where you’re sat and shrugs. “I don’t know exactly. Probably one of the fellas since we ladies don’t go out much.”

He takes another drink from the cup in his hand, but it no longer strips his tongue of tastebuds. “Hey, you not sitting down to eat that?”

“Not tonight,” she smiles, walking away. “Jack’s already in bed. G’night, Arthur, don’t make too big a fool of yourself, y’hear?”

He doesn’t. There’s something about you that draws him in, something about the whole situation that isn’t quite right, but he can’t focus when his jeans are tightening over his hips. He shakes his head, trying to clear it, but when Karen leaves her seat beside you, his untouched stew hits the ground and his spurs clink towards the fire.

********

“And who might you be?”

You look up from the flames, surprised. The man towers over you, his face unreadable and his thumbs tucked into his gun belt. Before you can answer, he has lowered himself next to you, nodding at the guitar playing mexican by your feet.

“Javier.”

“Arthur.”

“Didn’t take you long to serenade the newcomer, huh?”

You blush as Javier chuckles. “Usted me conoce bien.”

“Am I supposed to know what that means?” The stranger laughs loudly, drunkenly, his knee knocking yours.

“We’ve been running together long enough, haven’t we?”

“Ah, s’true, you got me there.” He shakes his head, chuckling as he shoves a cigarette between his lips. You watch his strong hands fumble with the small yellow box. His broad thumb pushes the insert too far, losing the majority of the sticks to the turf between his boots, but he doesn’t seem to notice. You grow more and more awkward as you’re forced to watch him drop or snap matches by the handful. He curses and drinks from the tin cup he brought over with him.

You notice Javier watching as well, his fingers continuing to dance over the strings. He mutters something in Spanish, and the smirk spreads enough to flash his teeth. You can only guess it is a friendly insult of some kind, but Arthur seems to come to another conclusion. He nudges you, and nods at the Mexican.

“Have you met the tough Mexican freedom fighter? The one that ran away when things got nasty?”

You hesitate, not sure how to respond. Luckily Javier shakes his head, his tightening jaw the only thing betraying his irk. “Let’s not play this game again, Arthur. It gets messy too fast.”

He grumbles, distracted when he finally gets a match to spark. He tries to hold it to the tobacco, but it burns out before his hands steady. He grunts in defeat, tucking the crumpled cigarette back into his breast pocket and turns to take you in. Somewhat satisfied, he leans forward, his hot breath moving the hair you have tucked behind your ear.

“So how much do you go for?” Your eyes widen with surprise. You try to speak, but no words form. For some reason, this tickles him. “Well? Cat got your tongue?”

“Leave her alone, Arthur.”

“Aw, Miss Tilly, I’m only playing.”

“Is he bothering you?” she asks gently. You can’t answer, your head is reeling with the way he spoke to you so bluntly, like you’re a whore looking for work. She sighs and gets to her feet, pulling you along with her. “C’mon. Let’s get another drink, and leave these assholes alone.”

“What’d I do?” he asks innocently.

“What didn’t you do?” mutters Javier.

“Wha’s tha’ supposed to mean?”

Tilly walks you away to a quieter corner, apologising, but you laugh it off. After all, you can think now. His proximity had put your head in a spin, but away from the heat and the physical contact you could think clearly again. You assure her no offence has been taken; he’s drunk, and something about his breath made you believe his drinks were much stronger than yours.

You clink a couple of fresh beers in cheers, and when Karen swoops round again, you let her pour you another shot of whisky directly into your mouth.

“Take it easy, huh?” Mary Beth says, touching Karen’s arm, but the blonde is already travelling again, this time towards the Irish man in the green bowler hat.

“Remind me again why I put up with you?” she slurs.

“Because you love me, darlin’!”

She laughs loudly, prodding him in the chest. “If I loved you, would I do this?” A crack reverberates across the lake, leaving the red head with a flaming red cheek.

“What was tha’ for?”

Mary Beth sighs in defeat, shaking her head at you. “She’s not normally like that, I promise. That boy is an exception.”

“Funny! I was just saying the same thing about Arthur!” You try to stop her, but she’s quickly confessed your strange encounter. Trying to hide your embarrassment, you find yourself infinitely grateful Tilly hasn’t heard everything he said. You like this group and don’t want anybody thinking less of you because of some drunken remark.

“Odd, he usually keeps to himself when there’s a new lady in camp,” muses Mary Beth.

“Abigail travelled with us a full month before he spoke to her.”

You set aside your empty bottle, feeling a little light headed. The two women muse, silently conversing in front of you until they’re interrupted with a shout.

“Where’s all this moonshine come from?” coughs Arthur, throwing aside a bottle he had found in the grass. “Is Sean trying to get everyone black out drunk?”

“Ah, not this time. That moonshine’s mine,” chuckles Hosea, walking over to pick up the bottle and return it to his tent. “I kept a couple back after we took it up to the Braithwaites. It comes in handy when making fire bottles and the like.”

“Well hide it somewhere more discrete, would ya?” Arthur splutters some more, following him. “I reckon Sean has already broken into your stash.”

“That would make sense,” sighs Hosea. You notice what had been five large bottles under the medical wagon has somehow dwindled to two. You also note that they are the same size and shape of the stuff Uncle had been drinking that morning, but you say nothing.

Following the women away from the campfire towards your beds, you see Mrs Adler close one of Mary Beth’s books she was reading by the lantern.

“It’s no good over here, ladies,” she grunts with disgust. “The boys are loud wherever you go.”

“Guess we had better wait it out by the water,” sighs Tilly.

“Hey, Y/N! What do you think of this?” Karen barrels her way to your side and, before you can greet her, she has tilted the contents of a tin cup into your mouth. The smell of alcohol alone is enough to bring tears to your eyes, and the other girls complain as you cough up a lung.

“Is that moonshine? And… tobacco?” you manage to gasp. 

“I can’t tell no more,” she slurs, squinting at the bottle. She turns around and pours you a cup from a different bottle. “What ‘bout this one?”

Mary Beth grabs her arm. “Karen! What’s gotten into you?”

“Leggo of me!”

Whilst they argue, you take the cup from her outstretched hand and drink it down in one. “Wow!” You shake your head, looking into the cup as though expecting it to contain flames. “This one... raspberry?”

“Who knows?” She yanks her arm free and begins to stagger off. “I found two men making Moonshine outside of Rhodes. Think they’re experimentin’, or at least that’s what Arthur said.” She hiccups and laughs at you as the world begins to spin.

“Y/N, are you ok?”

“Sure,” you say, trying to blink your way back to single vision. Taking a deep breath, you squeeze your eyes closed and reopen them. Mary Beth and Tilly are looking at you with concern. Mrs Adler’s face is unreadable. You can feel your cheeks burning, but also feel the confidence blossoming in your chest. “Yes. I’m fine.”

“Have you had moonshine before?” asks Tilly with concern. “It’s strong stuff.”

“A couple of times,” you admit, smiling despite yourself. None of the women look best impressed, but Karen rescues you, wrapping her arm over your shoulders after an about turn and drags you back to the party.

“Have all of you met my friend, Y/N?” she slurs.

“You’ve been with us two days now, is that right?” asks Charles gently. You nod, cheeks still scorching hot. You spot the brooding figure stood at the back of the group and somehow your cheeks grow hotter still. The distance allows you to see him in his entirety - his legs thickening at the thigh from the horse riding, the faded blue shirt tucked in at his narrow hips and stretching up to the thick broad shoulders. The crackle of the fire reflects in his eyes, and suddenly it’s not just your cheeks that are uncomfortably warm.

You don’t resist as Karen pushes another bottle into your hand.

“Who was it that found you?” asks Lenny.

“I wasn’t found as much as-”

You’re interrupted by a snort. “LENNAAAAY!” cries out Arthur suddenly.

Lenny groans. “Oh, not that again!”

He laughs that loud laugh to the group, staggering over to clamp a hand on the young man’s shoulders. “Here, we go out for one drink and I swear the next day the bartender tells me I asked every single person in the saloon if they were Lenny.” He doubles over. “But most of ‘em were white! And half of ‘em were women!”

“It hurt to find out what you think of me, Arthur,” teases Lenny.

Charles is watching the blonde man as he staggers, trying to calm himself down. “How much has he had to drink?” he asks no one in particular.

“Oi! Karen!”

“Uh oh,” giggles Karen, elbowing you.

“Where’s me moonshine gone?”

“Your moonshine?” Hosea intercepts Sean before he can reach you. “I think you’ll find that moonshine was camp supplies!”

“Yeah, Sean! Camp supplies.” She lifts your hand holding the bottle. “Thought you liked sharing?”

“Miss Jones.” Hosea turns around, voice stern. “Is that my moonshine?”

“No, sir,” she answers sweetly. “S’camp’s moonshine.”

He rolls his eyes as she takes another big swig, sloshes some into your cup and throws the rest onto the fire which immediately burns up. You can’t help but laugh at the degree of disapproval radiating from him. Taking the opportunity of your mouth agape, she tips the cup into your mouth and makes you swallow.

“First rule of drinkin’ is to never drink alone,” she states proudly.

“I feel like you’re supposed to ask first,” you gasp.

“Nah, that’s how you end up stuck in camp. If you want something, you have to go get it!”

“Mr Matthews!” squawks Miss Grimshaw from her bed. “God help you if you do not get that girl to bed!” “Shut up you old hag!” Karen retorts, stumbling as Hosea leads her away.

“Apologies, Miss Grimshaw. I’m on it!”

Blinking you realise you are the only one standing this side of the fire. The men are quiet, watching the flames eat at the logs, each of them in their own head. You can feel something watching you, and when you look up, you spot the same cowboy staring at you. As you lock eyes, he blinks and shakes his head as though coming to his senses. 

With a big sigh, he ambles towards the shoreline, dropping his beer on the ground as he passes. The world is swirling, but without his eyes on you, you suddenly feel invisible. Taking a deep breath, you follow him as best you can. You aren’t graceful and you certainly aren’t quiet, but the sound of deep sleep comes from the tents you have to pass, undisturbed even when you almost fall on top of them.

When he reaches the water he stops and leans his head back, looking up to the night sky. “You fool, Arthur Morgan,” he mumbles. “Why’d you have to be such an idiot? No wonder the women hate yer.”

You clear your throat and he flinches so hard, he almost falls over. You apologise, rushing forward to catch him. He grasps your outstretched arms and somehow manages to right himself. It takes a moment to realise you’re still holding on to one another.

“I’m sorry about before,” you begin, dropping your arms.

He mirrors you, shaking his head. “Nah, s’my fault. I ain’t ever been the best drunk.”

“I’m- I don’t mean that. I’m just…” You force yourself to take a deep breath.

“Listen, it was my mistake. There’s a lot going on, we gotta lotta plates spinnin’ and then I saw you, and...” He trails off, looking out at the water, sighing sadly. “I’m sorry for jumpin’ on yer like tha’.”

You follow his gaze out across the shore, listening to the waves lap gently over themselves. Dark smudges of geese fly through the moonlight and into the wisps of clouds that are starting to crawl in across the inky sky. Somewhere a laughing gull cries out, repeating itself like a grandfather clock on the hour.

“We’ve had… a lot to drink.” You close your eyes, but the world spins. He must see you wobble, because a hand touches your back before your eyes open again. You look up to thank him and find his eyes tracing your lips. You realise you’re biting your lip.

With a deep breath you straighten yourself up out of his arms. He doesn’t stop you, if anything it snaps him out of his trance.

“We’ve had a lot to drink and I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

“O’course, Miss. I understand.”

You turn your head to look up at him, to learn more about the stranger, but instead you find yourself staring at the muscles in his arms and the soft halo surrounding them. You swallow, and try to drag your gaze upwards, but you’ve already seen the bulge in his trousers, and you don’t make it to his face before noticing the skin radiating from the top of his shirt. His chest, his shoulders, his entire torso looks strong. You wonder if it feels the way it looks…

“You were saying, Miss?”

You feel the words vibrate through your fingers and rumble right down your arm. It takes a moment for the sound to wake you, and when it does you realise your mouth is open and your hand has found its way into the V of his shirt.

He’s already looking down at you. You feel the pulse of desire between your hips and the warmth spread as his grey gaze transfixes you. “Y/N?”

Grabbing his upper arm in one hand and his neck in the other, you pull yourself up to kiss him square on the mouth. With no need for encouragement, he returns the pressure, pulling you flush against his body.

Your body purrs as his trousers tense against your skirts, and a groan escapes your chest as his teeth brush your neck. Your head falls back, your lungs already panting, your nails dig into his shirt. When something brushes the back of your head, you open your eyes to see that you’ve moved a little away out of sight of those still at the fireside. He has you pressed up against the wall of eroded dirt, kissing you deeply, squeezing your breasts and you accept his worship.

His hair is thick between your fingers and you hook your leg around him to pull him closer. The move takes him by surprise, but he recovers quickly, providing you the weight you yearned for. He returns the motion, one hand breaking free from between you and rustling up your skirts in search of your ass.

You lower your leg and shove him hard in the chest. He falls back, confused until your undergarments land beside his head. You try to dispose of his trousers the same way, but the suspenders won’t allow you access. Realising your intentions, he pulls them off of his shoulders, cradling your head in both hands as he continues to nibble your lip, your hands fumbling over his union suit.

Coming up for air frustrates you until you see his exposed chest. You trace your fingers over his skin as his grip moves to your hips, pulling you down onto that bulge.

“Get this thing off me now or so help me,” you moan. Eager to obey, he pulls the waistband of your skirt, making it crack as the buttons pop off. With help, you manage to lift the skirt over your head, your blouse already unbuttoned half way.

He pulls his arms free from the cotton as you tug his trousers from his legs, his feet wrestling clumsily as he tries to kick off his boots. You try to scoop the loose change back into his pockets, but he’s pulled you back on top of him, kissing you again, his hands exploring your exposed skin and tugging at the strings of your corset. You try to help him, but the thick member rubbing against the inside of your thigh wipes any pre-existing intentions

Your entire body stiffens as he slips inside you with a long guttural groan. Suddenly the urgency has dissipated and is replaced with a low throbbing tremor deep into your core. Instinct forces your hips to grind deeper onto him, forcing air out of your lungs to make room.

You can feel yourself building, feel his fingers digging into the bare flesh of your hips, your pelvises trying to make contact with each other. You lift your arms behind your head, stretching your upper body as though somehow you can make more room for him inside you and cram more of him in. He pushes your body up and brings you slamming back down before you can object, and you feel it again, the throbbing of your core as he slowly bounces you over his shaft, groaning.

Before the bubble can burst, he throws you off. You open your mouth to argue, but he’s scrambling to his knees, reaching for your hips and pulling you back into him. You don’t really understand until you’re on all fours and he pushes himself back inside. He begins to build up speed, and you can feel his balls slapping against your clit. You don’t know what to do with yourself, he’s hitting all your sweet spots, your hands reaching for anything to hold onto, but instead returning fistfulls of dirt, sand and seaweed.

Your eyes roll as the bubble of pleasure which has grown ever larger inside you bursts. You can feel your muscles squeezing, then pulsing and squeezing again as though milking him. You can hear him choking at the sensation and as the edge of your orgasm softens, you push back hard and pull away, lengthening each stroke.

Arthur cries out into the night as he empties himself of weeks of pressure. You can feel it pouring into you, feel him twitching against your walls, and you lean back greedily. Eventually there is nothing other than your shared panting. No snoring, no birds, barely any tide.

You land on your front, exhausted. A muffled thud confirms Arthur has also hit the ground. You can barely summon the energy to lift your eyelids - the orgasm far exceeds anything you have achieved on your own or past partners.

Eventually you roll onto your back. The purple of the night is retreating in favour of violet and soft pinks. Following the colours, you see the first trickles of the sun bleeding over the shrine of the camp. You let it wash over you, feel it cleansing your spirit.

Wondering if Arthur is still breathing, you lift your head. He is also watching the serene sunrise, tranquility smoothing the lines of his face.

The bark of a dog snaps you back to reality. People are stirring in camp and you are as good as naked on the beach. As though summoned by the horror, a chuckle ripples over the water.

“Have yourselves a good evening?” asks a man rowing past. You grab your skirts and whatever else is at hand and flee.

************

“What were you thinking?”

Arthur groans, pulling the blanket over his face, but it gets yanked straight back to his waist. “Not now. Please, Hosea.”

“Not now? Put your trousers back on, boy, before there’s a mutiny!”

He tries to reach to see if there’s evidence for the battering, but he vomits spectacularly over the edge of the bed.

“What the devil took over you last night? You! Of all people!”  Arthur is barely able to breath between retches, the remnants of the moonshine, spirits and bile, splashing against the crates. “You take the one girl here without a history and- what’re you doing over here? Go find your mother!”

“Calm down, she’ll get paid,” he groans, wiping his mouth as a loud giggle knocks another nail into his brain..

“Why has Uncle Arthur got his bottom out?”

“Ooft, mark the day, young Jack! Eyewitness accounts report that the sun does not, in fact, shine out of Arthur Morgan’s arse cheeks! Who’d’ve thunk!”

“Mr Macguire, make yourself useful and take the boy with you! And tell the women to stay the other side of camp too!”

“Aw, but they’re already gigglin’ about it.”

“No one will be gigglin’ when I’m finished! Now git!”

“Alrigh’, alrigh’, keep your pants on!” Sean’s cackle splits Arthur’s head open. He tries to move the blanket, awareness creeping in amongst the hangover as the infamous chortle sounds.

“Not you too, Dutch. Go see to the women.”

“My boy, you have royally outdone yourself this time.” His laughter booms off the trees. “Come along, Miss O’Shea, nothing to see here.”

“I think a lot of t’girls will disagree with you there, Dutch.”

“Especially Y/N if the stories are true!”

“Ain’t no stories to be tellin’! Everybody heard them!”

“Shee-yit.” Arthur groans, his memory hissing at the scratch marks on his back..

“Trousers on. Now. Before more people come ogling.” The chest by his feet creaks open, and clothes begin to rain on him. “And for the love of God, sort out the mess you made on the shore! Last thing we need is Pinkerton’s following the trail of bloomers to camp!”

He sits up with a grunt, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, eyes squinting at the bright light of the tent. Hosea kicks a lone worn boot away from the puddle, cursing.

“A little privacy?”

“Don’t make me laugh! You might not be a teenager, but I’ll throw you out by your ear!”

“What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” The old man gestures to the heavens. “Where to start? Disrupting the camp with your racket! Littering belongings for others to find! Playing buckaroo with the girl who’s here for her protection!”

“Her protection?” He scoffs, his hands shaking too much to button his shirt, but his stomach sinks.

“She didn’t tell you?”

He winces. “We didn’t do much talking,” he admits.

“Dutch found her robbing the trailers just above Rhodes. He was going to give her a ride home - to that run down place, Lonnie’s Shack - but Sean had scoped it that morning. Said some bandits rocked up and took out the father living there before setting up camp. So Dutch brought her here instead.”

“Bet you’re going to say she’s not even a whore at this rate,” he groans, trying to push himself off the bed, but the sight of his adopted father’s scowl knocks him back. “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.”

“Get up and clean up, mister!” Hosea kicks the chest and stalks away. “Before I give Bill his gelding tongs back!”

[docholligay]

Empty Chairs at Empty Tables

PATREON RELEASE!!! This was originally sponsored by @rhiorhino​, so if you like it, please let her know! 2,500 words, in MaS

I’ve never felt so alone in the fucking world. 

Minako Aino had long made peace with the fact that there was no one on this earth who would fully understand her. She was loved by many, that was true, and she didn’t want to seem ungrateful for it, but there had never been anyone in her life who had gotten every part of her heart. In some ways, it was unimportant. There was someone else to fill the void another could not, and where one person lacked, another would pick up again. That was the value of having so many people, wasn’t it? There was always someone for something. And so mostly, she never worried about feeling misunderstood by one person or another. She’d always known how to look for another angle. 

But now, all she could feel was the empty space where Haruka used to sit. 

Mina had always known Haruka would go first. Mina was a consummate survivor, she found her way out of scrapes and luck was on her side, and she had the family history to back every expectation of a long life. Haruka wasn’t built to last, and she wasn’t lucky, and Mina had known all of these things for a very long time. 

There is a difference between knowing something, and feeling it. 

Even as Haruka had been so sick, it hadn’t seemed real. She would have said, of course, Haruka was dying, and that she was going to enjoy her for as long as she was around, and she had even managed to convince herself that she knew Haruka would die, and that she understood what that meant. 

But here she sat, not yet a week after Haruka drew her last breath, sitting in their shitty bar, completely taken by surprise. 

And the world didn’t understand. 

Rei tried, she thought, taking another deep drink of her beer. Rei had told her when Usagi and Michiru died, for it was only natural that Rei would outlive them all, that she would be crushed. Mina had nodded, and thanked her, and not said that Rei wouldn’t understand it until they were gone. Usagi tried, in her way, but always ended up sobbing over Haruka’s death herself, clinging to Mina and needing be comforted instead of comforting. 

The outside was worse. Michiru got all the sympathy in the world, her wife had died, and what a tragedy, they were together for so long. It’s only natural that she’d be heartbroken over it, and they treated her with great gentleness, and got together to help her with whatever she needed, large to small. And Mina generally got a pat on the shoulder, and an “I’m sorry.” 

She was only Mina’s friend, after all. 

“Whiskey. Rocks.” Mina set the empty glass down on the bar, and remembered herself, ”Please.” 

The barmaid picked up the beer glass and looked at Mina with a slight tilt of her head and an arch of her eyebrow. “Mina, are you sur--” 

“Yes, I’m fucking sure,” she looked at the girl flatly, tossing a handful of bills on the table, “Thank you.” 

She nodded and walked away as Mina sighed. 

The other day, Mina had told someone her sister had died, trying to explain herself as she struggled through the grocery store. Instantly, she had been greeted with a wave of deep sympathy and patience, and it only made her more angry. How was it that pretending she had been an accident of genetics made it more real? How could that be stronger than the fact that Mina and Haruka had chosen to be family, again and again, ever since duty had long released them? 

It was cold and wet and miserable outside, and she thought as she walked here about how much Haruka would have complained about the slush, and how her hands were cold and her chair was dirty. She’d smiled as she thought about how Haruka would use that as a justification to get a hot apple cider long before anything else, mulling in the large pot behind the bar, and how she’d always get extra whipped cream. 

The smile had faded as she realized she’d never look across the table and see Haruka’s nose tipped with cream again. 

She tugged at the too big sweater, soft and warm and on the wrong body. She shouldn’t have come here. They only went here together, and her absence was all the more noticable for the way Mina could hear her laughter echoing from the back table where they used to sit. Mina thought she was being smart, sitting at the bar instead, but here she was, snapping at the barmaid for trying to be kind. 

“Hey,” she said, as the glass of whiskey tapped in front of her, “I’m sorry. I’m not really social right now. But that’s not your fault.” 

She looked at Mina a moment. ‘Haruka?” 

Mina nodded and stepped off the stool, turning her back, staring into the dinginess of the place. 

“I haven’t handled it very well, I guess. She’s been gone a week, and, “ MIna took a small drink of the whiskey and looked at it, the amber of it just catching the dim light. “I miss her. A lot.” 

“I know. You were more than friends, you were--” 

There it was, again, like a hound from hell nipping at her ankles, telling her, again, that their relationship must have been something else, something greater, because the word she’d use for it wasn’t enough. It was casual and small and meaningless, and there would always be a ‘just’ in front of it. 

Mina whipped around to her and slapped the glass down on the bar, whiskey sloshing out of it. “No, we weren’t. We were friends. Just because you think there’s something weak about friendship,” she slammed her hand down on the wood, tears nipping at her eyes, “ that if she’s my friend, she can’t have been a really important part of my life, because you’ve never had a really great friend, well, fucking sucks to be you. She was my friend. She was my friend for nearly fifty fucking years. I loved her so much, and she was my friend, and I will miss her,” the tears began to free themselves, and she wiped at them with the sleeve of that familiar sweater, “For the rest of my fucking life. Goddamn,” she balled her fists at her sides, “Fuck all of this, fuck you and fuck…” 

The girl quietly began to wipe at the whiskey. ‘I--I’m so--” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” There was a hand on her shoulder, and she couldn’t decide if she wanted to lean into the owner or punch them, “She’s just having a day, give her a minute.” 

The voice snapped into her head alongside an identity. 

“Fuck off, Seiya.” She growled, vibrating with the sheer intensity of her anger, and she tossed Seiya’s hand off her shoulder, a terrible sort of satisfaction filling her when she heard Seiya’s shoulder pop with the force of it. “I don’t need your help.” 

“Yeah, sorry to bother you,” she snorted, rubbing her shoulder but saying nothing of it, “you’re doing so great.” 

Mina looked to her, with her ruined shoulder, hair more salt and pepper now than black, her rat tail long since cut off in deference to adulthood, but her eyes still gleaming with that sense of casual needling that had been such fun when applied to Haruka, and less fun when applied to her. 

Mina searched for an argument, and settled for rolling her eyes. “What do you want?”

“To find you. I knew you’d be here,” she signaled to the barmaid, who still refused to make eye contact with Mina, and sat herself down on a stool, “didn’t know you’d be yelling at some poor kid, but I probably should have.” 

Mina leaned against the bar, still looking back into the neon lit shoebox, eyes moving constantly toward that old table in the back corner. 

Seiya took a sip of the beer set in front of her. “Why are all of Usagi’s friends like this? I must have missed a memo.” 

Mina chuffed. “So Usagi sent you.” 

“No, Usagi was worried about you, and I sent myself. She wanted to come but,” she picked at the edge of the beer label, “I told her it’d be better just to be me.”

“Because we’re such good friends?” 

“No,” Seiya pushed a fresh glass of whiskey behind Mina, “ though you do like me, when you’re not doing this...old school Haruka thing you’re doing right now. No, because I’ve been there.” 

Mina said nothing, didn’t even move to grab the whiskey offered, just stared and stared at that back table, and smelled the grease of the tater tots from the tiny, terrible kitchen. She wanted to punch Seiya, and she wanted to cry on Seiya’s shoulder, and this might have surprised her, when she was younger, but she had learned that many emotions could be had at once, and that in fact there was something a touch more natural to that order of things. 

Nothing in life that was real, was pure. 

Seiya didn’t seem to care that she didn’t want to listen, which fit with most of what Mina had come to expect from Seiya. “When Taiki died, I wanted the world to swallow me up. I wanted to fight. I wanted to cry. I did a lot of both. Mostly, I wanted them to get it. Nobody did.” She took another sip of her beer and shrugged in her three-quarters way,  “Except Yaten, who was also handling it like shit.” 

Mina continued in her silence, but sat on the stool next to Seiya, back still turned to the bar, taking the whiskey from behind her. 

“I was stupid, but,” She looked over at Mina for a moemnt, and then back to the row of bottles behind the bar, “It was the dumbest shit I missed. Her fucking terrible poetry, and the way Yaten and I used to have to listen to it. How high strung she could be, while pretending she wasn’t. Her stupid sprouted grain bread in the fridge.” She chuckled, “How she used to roast me about my thing with Usagi. She thought it was so stupid.” 

Mina chuffed. “She wasn’t wrong.” 

“No,” Seiya let out a real laugh, now, as she took a drink. “She wasn’t.” 

Mina turned around and leaned against the bar. “Nothing’s going to be right ever again, Seiya.” 

“It’ll be different, yeah.” Seiya reached over to pat her arm, and then thought better of it. “It was a long, long time ago, and I still think about her sometimes. I miss her, of course, but when I think about her... It won’t hurt so bad, later, Mina. It does now. It will for a while. But you’ll smile when you think about her someday.” 

“Says you.” 

Seiya looked over at her/ “Remember that night in Usagi’s house, and how the whole night everyone was getting on her about me? Remember how she almost had a stroke when everyone was saying she was just jealous of me?” 

They were all so young then, and Haruka had such a deep scowl on her face all night, and she snapped back so hard at the very idea, and even Mako had ended up laughing about it. Haruka had been so transparent, always. There was a little smirk, just at the edge of Mina’s mouth. 

“She was so dramatic.” 

The past tense removed the smile from the edge of her mouth, and Seiya patted her on the shoulder, and looked up at the game on the screen, giving her a moment to sit with her feelings. Mina stared up at the screen but did not truly see it, wondering how she was supposed to get along in life without some long blonde idiot to share tater tots and beer with, how that had ever even become a spot in her life that she needed. How people couldn’t understand what it was to have that person, and then lose them. 

“Why doesn’t anyone know I loved her?” It came out so soft, like the voice of a child, and Mina felt a rise of shame, and she cleared her throat, “She was important even if we weren’t fucking, or related, or whatever it takes.” 

Seiya thought for a moment, finishing the work of peeling the label off the beer bottle. “People have a lot of ideas about how love works. Not everything fits.” She took another drink. ‘I know you loved her. She loved you.” 

Mina felt a sob rise in the back of her throat, and choked it down. “Don’t say that.” 

Seiya didn’t look away from the television. “Okay then, she hated you. Died to get away from you.” 

“Don’t be an asshole.” 

“What do you want out of people, Mina?” Seiya set her beer down, crossed her arms, and looked over at her. “What do you want people to say to you? About Haruka?” 

“I--” she stuttered, and scowled, and took a deep drink of her whiskey, still glaring, “I...shut the fuck up, Seiya.”

“See?” Seiya beamed, “I know, that you don’t fucking know, because I didn’t know. So I’m not gonna say anything, except, that I know. And it sucks. And I’m sorry she’s gone.” 

“That’s a lot of words for saying nothing, I just want to point out.” Mina finished off the glass of whiskey, the burn of it warming her chest, and twirled it around on the dark wood of the bar, waiting for Seiya to say something else, getting only silence in response. “We spent more than forty years together too. Not just Michiru. I saw her almost every day, even when she was sick. I was there when she died. I loved her. I want people to say that. That I loved her, and we were friends, and it didn’t have to be anything else. And they won’t.” 

“No,” Seiya shook her head, “they won’t.” 

Mina picked up a laminated menu off the top of the counter, detailing the terrible selections of tater tots and their toppings, staring at all the things Haruka had eaten on the sly, that she never would again, the queso and chicken and salsa over grease and crisp potato. She tossed it back on the counter. 

“She’s been gone a week, and I miss her so. Much.” Mina tugged at the end of her bob. “How am I supposed to go the next twenty years?” 

Seiya picked up the menu and considered. “We can start by eating tater tots.” 

Mina arched her eyebrow and leaned her cheek heavily against her hand. 

“No, seriously, I went to a bunch of slam poetry nights when Taiki died, this is way more fun,” She signaled the bartender, “hey, can you turn that on to the race? Don’t ask me which one, just whichever one’s on.” 

Mina glanced up at the screen. “That’s the drag winternationals. It’s an engineering game more than a race.” She smiled, and looked again at the menu. “So Haruka would say.” 

“Yeah, she would.” 

“Let’s get the barbecue tots.” 

“So Haruka would say.”

“Yeah,” Mina laughed, hearing an animated conversation from the corner table behind her, “Yeah, she would.” 

Haruka would understand her, sitting here, at this bar, angry and sad and hungry and a little drunk. And if she did, maybe no one else needed to. Maybe she was never alone at all, as long as there was a race on the TV and tots in front of her.

She wasn't alone. She was just holding a seat.

[hazbinextgeneration]

Down The Rabbithole Ch9

(Disclaimer: The songs sung by the Twiddle Sisters are Wonderland by Natalia Kills, Mad Hatter by Melanie Martinez, and Wonderland by Caravan Palace. I DID switch around and replace a few words, especially the Mad Hatter song, to match the storyland theme more, but I in no way own any of the songs or anything about them.)

Birds chirped along and the sky was a lovely blue as the lady in a red dress walked along the dirt road, even though this world had no visible sun that she could see it was still warm as if it was always summer here. And everything was always so bright, beautiful, and vibrant. The sweet smell of flowers was still in the air and lots of forest animals were about. Mostly birds and bunnies, but she saw some deer, a fox, and a turtle too. She wondered if they were regular animals or cursed princes or maybe they could talk like Cheshire or Marsh. They looked and acted like regular forest animals of her old home, and ran away from her as soon as she passed. Making her chuckle as she walked along. At least her feet weren't hurting anymore. Allison had shortly left the strange polka dot cottege after eating the food the kind Hatter and Hare provided her, once again reminding her of the way she needed to go in order to find these Twiddle Sisters. She certainly hoped whoever they were they would be as friendly as her previous guests were. She could only hope. Allison had followed the two crazy fellos' instructions and was already walking down her way towards the second fork in the road. So far she hadn't seen anything except for the lovely woods and creatures around her, that was until the path turned a corner to the left and as instructed she followed it. As Allison turned the corner she paused, and a big smile slowly spread across her face.

"Oh thank god! Finally!"

The second fork in the road! Finally! The second shiny GIANT silver fork stood tall and in the middle of the dirt path as she hurried towards it. Like the one before it, there was paths behind it but this time instead of two paths and two signs, there was three wooden paths and three wodden arrow signs. As soon as she got close enough she stopped and peered up at the signs that were somehow nailed to the giant metal thing. By now she stopped questioning things. I mean she just fell into a fairytale world of talking animals and storybook characters. How logical was that? As she approached, she blinked her eyes up to the three signs that pointed one each to the paths. One left, one right, and one pointing up probably symbolizing the path directly behind the giant fork. The left path apparently went somewhere called The Valley Of FarFar Away. The middle one lead somewhere called Godmother's Retirement Village. And the right which her old companions told her to go, said Enchated Vil. She smiled, before obviously turning and going down the right pathway. Everything looked the same as before as she walked along. Minute after minute passing as she continued to walk along for who know how long. The only difference was that the path began to slowly get bigger and bigger as Allison slowly walked along until it was as big and wide as a regular highway if the highway was made of dirt and smack dab in the middle of a dense and magic forest. The sweet flower scent in the air was nice as the gently breeze flowed throughout the air combined with...The smell of apple pies? She paused a little bit and sniffed the air a little more smelling the scents of foods in the air. And her stomach growled. Mini sandwhiches and cookies and tea didn't really fill one up so much. So naturally she sped up umbrella in hand as she folloed the smell down the road through the woods and-...And oh my goodness. She was now looking at the entrance of a small town the tree blocked off any buildings to the left and right, but from where she was standing she could make out the entrance to what looked like a mini town square of cobblestone and a fountain. Blinking she hurried forward. As she came closer the road slowly turned from dirt to cobblestone and she could hear her footsteps on it, and people walking around!.....WAIT! NO!! NOT JUST PEOPLE!! Walking talking animals and things! THAT THERE WAS A DEAR IN A FANCY DRESS CARRYING A BASKET!! AND THAT THERE WAS AN ELF!!....AND THAT THING WAS A TREE WITH ARMS, LEGS, AND WEARING AN OLD TIMEY SUIT!! She stopped where the forest met the town and her jaw dropped in absolute WONDER.

IT. WAS. A. VILLAGE. RIGHT. OUT. OF. A. FAIRYTALE!! Cobblestone everywhere, things out of stories walking around, and the buildings even looked like those old wooden cabins in storybooks, or cotteges with straw roofs. Either way it was fantastic. Umbrella still in hand and red eyes blinking around in wonder, she slowly stepped her way in looking at the brightly colored houses of different colors and designs and all the different people walking around. ...It really was real and so different and EXCITING AND AMAZING!! No one was the same from her first glance and she almost tripped from bumping into a giant walking spoon man holding hands with a giant plate wearing a dress and hat.

"S-Sorry," She called back before looking around again.

Her stomach growled smelling the good food again and she looked over and noticed there was a bakery opened not to far from her. Above the bakery's door it read "Muffin's and Gingerbread's Breads and Goodies." She guessed that must've been the Muffin Man's and Gingerbread man's family business. ...Too bad she didn't have any money or what was used for money down here. All this walking really worked up an appitite....What was she looking for again? OH YEAH!! Granny Cottege. She looked around and began to walk around aimlessly glancing at the many, many buildings around the place and peeking into alleyways. 'Mother Goose Library'. 'Town Hall.' 'GodMother's School House'....An actual one room school building with a bed like in ye olden days. 'Ye Olde Brave Tailor.' 'Merry Lane Doctor.' ...LOTS of fairytale puns. But no 'Granny's Cottage.' She must've been looking for what must've been an hour by now and still no signs of it. 'Can't miss it' huh? Against her better judgement she decided to stop someone and ask for directions. It looked like a wizard. The old man in a long robe and witch like hat stopped patiently and didn't seem too bothered by her question. In return to her question, he pointed down at an alleyway between two buildings and said it was just down that alleyway. She thanked him and hurried away towards where he had pointed. Darting between the mysterious people until she got there. The alleyway was dark but there was a light at the back of the tunnel, her desperation to find a way home somewhere overpowered any sketchy feeling she might've had and compelled her to walk down it. Allison was in complete shade for a few moments, but it disappeared as soon as she reached the end. The alleyway was nothing but a dead end with garbage cans and some litter laying about. But before her was a large black door and a sign above it read Granny's Cottage. FINALLY she found it! A smile came over her face as she approached the door and didn't hesitate to open it. Inside was NOT what she was expecting.

The loud sound of laughter filled the air and she catiously poked her head in and blinked at what was before her. LOTS of buff looking pirates and thieves she thought, witches and wizards wearing dark clothes, and other ruffians. ....Wow. She guessed there must've been ...'bad' people like classic story book villains and thieves but she didn't expect to stumble across a whole bunch of them. She took a few steps in and stopped wondering if maybe she shook turn around- She yelped and took a few steps aside as two buff looking men charged towards the open door with another third man in their grip she watched as they tossed him out laughing before one slammed the door shut and laughed even more and they turned and stomped back to a table of pirate looking men who held up mugs of she guessed beer towards them....She wondered if this is what Chesire meant by dangers of his world? She didn't have much chance to find out though as she sucked in a deep breath and began to walk towards the bar? This place looked like a tavern, an old version of a bar, only this one had a stage and giant old worn curtain near the far back. No one paid her any mind as she stepped around and under arms holding out mugs, dodging a few spills from the foul smelling beer. A man with an eye patch was wiping out a wooden mug at the counter and had that classic apron and small mustache like old bartenders had and looked up at her as she approached- Before yelping and ducking her head from a flying mug that landed on the floor behind the bar. The bartender didn't even flinch as it spilt at his feet and only gave Allison a bored look.

"Watcha want here girly? You seem kinda outta place in a crowd of rowdy ruffians like us." He sneered at her as she slowly looked around to make sure nothing would come back flying at her. Before blinking back up to the man.

"N-No! I d-don't want anything to drink. I-I'm just here looking for something."

"Uh huh. And just might who that be little lady? We don't usually see you're kind around here."

She looked at him and with a quiver in her voice said, "I-I'm looking f-f-for The Twiddle Sisters? I-I was told they perform here."

He huffed before going back to his cup. "Well, you're lucky then. They're about to perform now."

She didn't have time to even ask before the loud cheers of drunken laughter turned to cheers and whistles of joy and the bar tender looked past her, she looked over where he was looking and noticed everyone looking towards the stage near the very back of the whole place and she blinked.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" A lady's voice sung out from somewhere as the cheers and whistles grew. "It is with great pleasure that I present to you the Twiddle Sisters!"

The old raggedy curtain rose much to the cheers and she blinked again. WHAT THE WHAT?! What was revealed was not one but TWO women sharing one body....L-LIKE CONJOINED TWINS!! The strange ladies were dressed in a dark pink burlesque outfit and a long feather boa.Like one of those old 1920's flapper girls. One lady had dark pink hair which she had in a ponytail. Her sister she guessed had MUCH longer very pale pink hair, almost light also in a ponytail. As they were presented they really hammed up themselves by fluttering their eyes, one head waved white the other blew a kiss towards the cheering crowd. Behind them was three witches. Backup singers?? Everyone quieted down as music suddenly began playing from somewhere and she-..Uh..They got into a pose as she watched.

"I'm not Snow white but I'm lost inside this forest.~ I'm not red Riding Hood but I think the wolves have got me.~" The twin with the short dark pink ponytail sang as she walked along the stage and put one hand to her forehead while the one on her sister's side remained on their hip. " Don't want your glass slippers.~ I'm not, not Cinderella.~ I don't need a knight, so baby take off all your armor.~" She stepped along the stage again and men cheered and whistled as they walked past. "Your be the beast-" They leaned down to poke a guy's nose as they past and his comrade pulled him back from the stage. "-and I'll be the beauty, beauty.~ Who needs true love, as long as you love me truly, truly.~ I want it all but I want you more.~ Will you wake me up boy if I bite your poison apple?~"

"I don't believe in fairytales~," both girls sung out this time as they stopped center stage. The three back up witch singers sang 'Oh, no, no, no.' as they said that. "I don't believe in fairytales.~ I don't believe in fairytales.~ But I believe in you and me.~ Take me to Wonderland!!" All five girls sung as one for the next few verses now as the sisters danced and swung their hips expertly in place. "Take me to, Take me to.~ Take me to Wonderland.~ Take me to, take me to.~ Take me to Wonderland.~ Take me to, take me to.~ Take me to Wonderland.~ Wonderland, Wonderland.~"

"When I lay down to go to sleep at night.~," the dark pinked haired twin sang again as her twin and the back ground dancers stayed silent now, but the backup singers bouncing to the beat. "My dreams consist of things that'd make you wanna hide.~ Don't let me in your tower.~ Show me your magic powers.~ I'm not afraid to face a little bit of danger, danger.~ " At the last 'danger' they reached one of their legs out to kicked back a burly one eyed man back from the stage with the sweetest smiles. "I want the love, the money, and the perfect ending.~ You want the same as I, I.~ So stop pretending.~ I wanna show you how good we could be together.~ I wanna love you through the night.~ We'll be a sweet disaster.~"

"I don't believe in fairytales.~" Again both heads sung as another 'Oh, no, no, no.' came from the witches. "I don't believe in fairytales.~ I don't believe in fairytales.~ But I believe in you and me.~" Again as they repeated the next verses they all sung as one and Allison had to admit that they all had good voices, especially the one sister who was singing. "Take me to Wonderland.~ Take me to, take me to.~ Take me to Wonderland.~ Take me to, Take me to.~ Take me to Wonderland.~" That same expert swing dance in one place. Allison briefly wondered how long it took two sisters to agree and practice it? "Take me to, Take me to.~ Take me to Wonderland.~ Wonderland, Wonderland.~"

"Wonderlaaaaaand!!~ Oh!! Woah oh, oh!!" The dark pink haired twin sang loud and echoed throughtout the place. "Woah oh, oh!!~ Woah oh, oh!~ I believe in you and me!~ "

"I don't believe in fairytales!!~" Both heads sung together again only a little louder. "I don't believe in fairytales.~ I don't believe in fairytales.~ "

"But I believe in you and me!!~," The original sung out by herself.

"Take me to Wonderland.~," All five ladies on stage sung as one again, "Take me to, take me to.~ Take me to Wonderland.~ Take me to, take me to.~ Take me to Wonderland.~ Take me to, take me to.~ Take me to Wonderland.~" "I BELEIVE IN YOU IN ME!!~" The original singer sung out as the other four ladies continued to finish up the song. "Wonderland!!~ Take me to, take me to!~ Take me to Wonderland!!~ Take me to, take me to!~ Take me to Wonderland.~ Take me to, take me to.~ Take me to Wonderland.~ Take me to WOnderland!!~ TAKE ME TO WONDERLAND!!~"

The cheers and roars of the rowdy crowed was inevitable as all five ladies on stage took a bow, but that wasn't the end of the performance as Allison discovered when a different song began to play again from somewhere. The twins stood back up and took a stance as if to start another part of their performance. Allison blinked and found herself walking towards the front of the stage as the crowd began to die down from the first performance. This time a much deeper beat and music box sounding piano played from somewhere she couldn't see. Not that she was paying attention to anyone else but the two on stage.

"My friends don't walk they run.~ Skinny dip in rabbit holes for fun.~," this time the other sister with the longer very light pink haired ponytail sang out by herself as they slowly sashayed across the stage. "Poppin, poppin ballons with pins.~ Getting wild with barbarians.~ We paint white roses red.~ Each shade a different version of red.~ This dream, dream is a thriller.~ Getting wild with a small caterpillar.~" The paler haired twin suddenly reached up to run her gloved hand down her face. "Now I'm feeling the rush to my face.~ Cause I hate being so plaaa-a-ain.~ What's normal?~ They make me addled.~ The wilds.~ They make me feel safe.~" She suddenly sang in a louder tone when the next few versus came. "I'm nuts, baby.~ I'm mad.~ The craziest friend you've ever had.~ You think I'm Psycho, you think I'm gone.~ Tell our friends to follow along.~ Over the bend.~ Entirely bonkers.~ You like me best when I'm leading along.~ Tell you a secret.~" She made a motion as if to beckon the audience closer. " Im not alarmed.~ So what if I'm mad?~ The best people are.~ All the best people are mad, yeah.~ All the best people are.~''

Her voice like her sister's was very pretty, and sounded very different from her sisters. The light haired pink twin's voice was higher pitched but not enough to sound annoying. It sounded quite lovely and smooth.

"Where is my shrink potion?~" Allison was pulled back out of her thoughts as she began singing again. She now noticed the witch back up singers were gone and the dark haired twin who sung before was being very quiet smiling as her sister sang. "Witches, witches please listen.~ My forgetfulness is rattled.~ You can Alice, I'll be the Mad Hatter.~" She pointed out at the audience when she said Alice before pointing back to herself. "Now I'm feeling the rush to my face.~ Cause I hate feeling so Plaaa-a-ain.~ What's normal?~ They make me addled.~ The wilds.~ The make me feel safe.~" She once again spoke in a louder tone as she repeated the last verses from before. "I'm nuts.~ Baby, I'm mad.~ The craziest friend you've ever had.~ You think I'm psycho, you think I'm gone.~ Tell our friends to follow along.~ Over the bend.~ Entirely bonkers.~ You like me best when I'm leading along.~ Tell you a secret.~" Again the motion to beckon the audience but they stepped back when another man with a giant mustache was yanked back by his pal. "I'm not alarmed.~ So what if I'm mad?~ The best people are.~ You think I'm really?~" They slowly started to step around stage as they sang. "You think I'm mad.~ So what if I'm really?~ All the best people are.~ And I think your funny too.~ I know you're mad.~ That's probably the reason that we get along.~" They turned around and started walking back towards the center of the stage. "I'm nuts, baby.~ I'm mad.~ The craziest friend you've ever had.~ You think I'm psycho, you think I'm gone.~ Tell our friends to follow along.~ Over the bend.~ Entirely bonkers.~ You like me best when I'm leading along.~ Tell you a secret.~" They stopped back at middle stage and the twin currently singing held her hand up. "I'm not alarmed.~ So what if I'm really?~ The best people are.~" They stayed in one place and bounced to the beat as she sang. "All the best people are really.~ All the best people are.~ All the best people are mad, yeah.~ All the best people are.~"

The music cut out just as they finished singing and another loud roar of laughter louder than before came from the crowd as the girls bowed and blew kisses at their adoring fans and Allison reached up her own hands to cover her ears from the loud clapping and cheers. YOWCH!! THAT HURT!! Gripping the umbrella in one hand and stepping back, not noticing she stepped on one touch looking wizard's long robe. The music started up for a third time and Allison watched as they put their hands on their hips and just simply bounced along to the music this time, as the pale pink haired twin spoke.

"Just imagine a trip to a wonderous land.~ Of candy, and Jam.~ And ice cream.~"

"I gotta hit the road, you better watch it.~ With a little bag full of big tricks.~", The pink haired twin took over singing as her sister once again fell silent to her lead. "I got the voice, got the pitch, got to keep it undercover.~ All in the air, just to sing it out.~ See the stone cold face, try to knock it.~ I can't be stopped.~ Never walked.~ Gotta run it.~ I gotta be wit it, I gotta be with it.~ I gotta beda-"

A loud yell made everyone stop and look down into middle stage, Allison tripped and fell back on her bum just as the bartender was walking by with drinks. The wizard's cloak that Allison had accidentally been standing on had snagged on the wizard's neck when he tried to stand and choked him, he turned around furious not looking at Allison on the ground. Only seeing the baretender standing in her place. Angered he pushed the bartender without another word sending him flying back and spilling the beer all over the men behind him. The pirates yelled in anger as beer was poured all over them and in retaliation one threw his mug at the wizard who quickly ducked. The cup flew across the bar and hit another VERY large man sitting at a table of seven other beefy men and they immediately stood after their leader was hit in the head by a mug and covered in beer. Which lead to more beer and cups anf chairs being thrown, to people becoming more angry, to starting to throw punches, and TURNING INTO AN ALL OUT BAR FIGHT!! The women on stage covered their heads with their arms, before darting to the left of the stage as the curtains closed.

"HEY!! Wait!" Allison quickly scrambled to her feet and quickly made a beeline for the stage as the curtains closed. Lifting up her dress a little allowing her to jump over fallen men or chairs easier or move when ducking under something flying over her head. THIS IS WHY SHE HATED DRESSES!! Her heart beats picked up as she moved and once she got to the stage, she jumped onto the thing and pulled herself up onto it. Crawling umbrella in one hand fast to the curtain as it just touched the bottom of the stage. She took one last look behind her, winced at a glass breaking sound, and quickly pushed up the bottom of the old curtain to crawl underneath it. But she didn't stop there, quickly standing she looked left to where the twins ran and saw a brown door. She bolted towards it, ignoring the curtain moving or the noises of the stage as something hit them. The door burst opened and slammed when Allison pressed her back to it breathing heavily....before sighing and closing those red eyes, leaning her head onto the door. "Well, that went well." She looked back around and noticed she was in what looked like a hallway, blinking she pushed away from the door. The faint sounds of the bar fight still going on but fading as she walked along. It was barely lit and hard to see. But there was a few doors to the right, she looked at them pondering which ones the twins took.

"Well tonight was a disaster." She stopped and blinked at the sudden voice as it came threw the walls. "At least we won't get blamed for it. It's not our fault the guy made another person mad." "Ha! Yeah right. Did you see him tonight?" What sounded like two women laughing together was enough to encourage Allison to walk faster and followed the muffled sounds of talking and laughing until she found the source coming from the back of one of the very last few doors. She stopped in front of it. Should she knock? Taking in a deep breath, Allison shakily reached a hand over. And knocked on the door. The sounds of happy chatter on the other side disappeared immediately and Allison froze. .....A long silence passed until a voice spoke. "Who is it?"

She opened her throat to speak but her answer came out a nervous stutter, "I-I-I...I-I c-came to talk to you two...I n-n-need to ask you something."

Another long pause-.....

"You may enter." Allison's hand shakily grasped the doorknob as she took a big inhale. Pausing for a moment before letting it out and slowly....SLOWLY pushing the door open and letting it open by itself fully revealing the three women to each other. The room was filled with classic 'star' items such as a well furnished bed, a giant wardrobe, and a fancy vanity which the two were sitting in front of right now. The three of the held a small staring contest, before the sisters looked at each other then back at Allison. "Who are you?," The light pink haired one asked.

"A-A-Allison. ..*ahem* My name's Allison. I need your help...please."

...They blinked and looked suspicious. "And how can exactly can WE help YOU?"

"I-I need to know where to find the Fortune Teller." Both blinked in surprise as she frowned and looked at them. "PLEASE!! He's my only chance of getting home and...A-And I heard you two would know where to find him."

They must've heard the desperation in their voice because the dark haired one reached her hand out to come in. "Close the door." Allison quickly did so and the two relaxed back. Well the dark pink haired one was looking at her with a studying gaze as her sister still looked confused. "....Come in and sit down. I'm Deedee." The twin with the short ponytail pointed to herself as Allison slowly shuffled over to the bed to sit down. And then she gestured to her sister, the one with longer hair. "And this is my sister, Dumea. ...Why do you want to know where the Fortune Teller is?"

Allison swallowed under their hard gazes. "I-I...I'm really lost. I-I need a por-....Rabbit-thole to get back to there." Both looked surprised again before looking at each other. "PLEASE!! Please. I have a friend who might be hurt waiting for me and I was told you two might know where to find him!"

....."So the rumors were true." They looked back to her. "A human really did fall down here." They leaned forward and gave her a concerned look. "It's not safe for you here." "If the Queen or her guards find you," Dumea cut in tone worried, "You'll be forced to perform in one of her fights. And she never loses. Her magic's too powerful." Allison's eyes shrank and her eyes dropped.

"....W-W-What?"

"The Hearts are jealous and fearful tyrant family that's ruled for generations. They're a very old family with strong magic that gets stronger with each generation," They continued, "The worst was Queen Velvet Hearts' parents. They wiped out nearly all the Chesires and destroyed most of the rabbitholes almost fourteen years ago."

Allison's mind wretched back to Chesire...remember how he proclaimed himself last of the Chesires-....And leaned back with a disgusted look on her face. "...That's why he was against me coming here...That's aweful!" She looked back to them. "Why would they do that?!"

Deedee shook her head. "The family was always crazy. They blamed outsiders of treason for the history the Brothers Grim shared with your world. Since then all outsiders are viewed as enemies and if any of them were to come into the Hearts kingdom they would spend the rest of their lives in the dungeon...or worse." "Queen Velvet is MUCH better than her parents or other ancestors were, but she'll still see you as a threat and lock you away. But not before making you fight to earn your freedom back before she locks you up like she does with anyone else who upsets her."...."Like us."

Allison blinked and an even more annoyed look appeared on her face. "Make you fight her? What did you guys do to hurt her and What kind of punishment is that?!"

"A much fairer one than her anscestors would've given us." "The Queen...still has traits of jealousy and vanity in her heart as all Hearts do. We used to perform for the royal court, but the Queen proclaimed we were trying to ruin her performances. So she challenged us and...." "W-We lost and she banned us from ever stepping foot in the castle again. Now we have to sing and live her to get by." "It's not a bad punishment. I'd rather get banned than thrown in the dungeon-" "But that's why you must leave." Deedee gave her a frightened look. "She's too powerful for you to take on and already there's rumor's of the queen sending guards to capture you. If you look you'll be trapped here forever."

Allison face became wide in fear and she looked at them in desperation. "T-That's why I gotta find him! He's the only one who could know how to get me back! PLEASE!! PLEASE TELL ME ANYTHING!!"

...The two sighed. "It's true we heard rumors about where he lives, but we've never seen him. Only heard of where he might live and even we aren't sure."

"PLEASE!! I'll take anything! If it means I can go home!"

....."We do not wish you to end up in our situation." "So we will tell you what we know."

Allison thanked whatever deities were listening to her prayers and gave a shuddering exhale hanging her head and looking at them. "Thank you. Thank you, thank you so much!"

"No need to thank us. You might not even find the results you want." "We heard from whispers from the courtroom's nobles that he may live in the Giant mushroom Field east of the castle, but that's all we heard and it's not gaurenteed because no one's ever seen him and told the location of his hide away."

"H-How do I get there?"

"The mushrooms. Follow the glowing pink mushrooms, they always lead right to it.".....Another pause before one Twiddle sister pointed in the direction behind them. "There's a trail that just starts on the south edge of town. The farmers use them to go collect mushrooms on the edge of the misty field before coming home to not get lost." "You should leave now. While you still have time." They stood up as they ushered her off the bed. "We'll sneak you out the back way, but you MUST leave right away. Rumors travel faster than you think and if you can't find the Fortune Teller then you'll need the head start to escape the Queen."

Allison's heart picked up pace slightly as the sisters quickly ushered her towards the door and what would eventually be her back exit. ...Getting back home just got a whole lot harder.

[teejaysnow]

Here's a fluffy prompt! Breakfast in bed on a chilly morning :)

Thank you very much a lot - you helped!! <3

(also, this turned out a lot longer than expected...)

Do you want toast with all that cheese?

Isak was not happy. Not with the world, not with the temperature outside (which was way too far below zero for happiness anyway), and not with the landlord who ”wouldn’t be able to fix the heating until tomorrow - sorry, boys”. There was a small space heater noisily blowing warm air towards a very limited area of their combined dining room/living room/bedroom, but the kitchen was a complete no heat area and the floor’s arctic climate laughed in the face of his knitted socks. So no, Isak was not happy.

And who in their right mind had their birthday in February anyway? What was wrong with a nice, clement June birthday when their boyfriend wouldn’t have to freeze his bollocks off while preparing breakfast in bed? Not that Even was expecting breakfast in bed - or breakfast anywhere else for that matter. Even was much too familiar with Isak’s very reluctant acquaintance with mornings and was happy enough to make breakfast for both of them, birthday or not. Which was the reason that Isak had had to get up at fucking arse o’clock in the morning to make the fucking breakfast before his boyfriend woke up and ruined the surprise. (Did I mention that Isak wasn’t happy?)

Isak glared at the scrambled eggs (and yes, Even, he had remembered the spoon of sourcream, thanks), willing them to cook faster so he could finally get back into bed and warm his cold feet on his hot (heh...) boyfriend's toasty warm legs. The breakfast tray was already decked out with a red rose in a small vase, two badly wrapped presents, and two mugs full of wonderfully warm coffee. The toast was toasting along while the scrambled egg scrambled, and Isak was just about to get the small cake - that he’d somehow managed to keep hidden from his annoyingly nosy boyfriend - out of the refrigerator when a hand on his lower back and a chin on his shoulder made him start.

“Breakfast?” Even asked, still sounding half asleep. “Also, fuck, it’s cold!” he added as an afterthought.

Isak hummed in agreement with both those statements - as well as in appreciation of Even sneaking his arms around Isak’s waist, his nose finding its favourite spot just at the junction between Isak’s shoulder and neck.

They were interrupted by the toaster spitting out two more or less unburned pieces of bread and Isak turned around and shoved petulantly at his boyfriend’s chest.

“Move over, arsehole! Why are you awake already, anyway? Except for spoiling your surprise, obviously,” Isak complained.

“The bed was too cold without you,” Even said with a small shrug, grabbing at Isak’s waist and pulling him into a tight back hug. Isak rolled his eyes, the toast burning his fingers as he transferred it onto the tray.

“And you thought it would be warmer in the kitchen? Really?”

“Noooo, but I’d rather be cold with you than warm without you...?” 

Even leaned in over Isak’s shoulder and twisted his head to the side so he could flutter his eyelashes up at him, but Isak only wrinkled his nose and gave Even an unimpressed look.

“And do you perhaps want toast with all that cheese,” he scoffed.

Even kissed him on the cheek and removed the frying pan from the hob.

“Well, I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me.”

“Oh God, please just go back to bed without saying another word,” Isak begged, turning his head to give Even’s cheek a quick kiss before turning back towards the scrambled eggs and distributing them onto two plates.

“Aww, it’s like you don’t love me anymore.” 

Even sighed mournfully, eyes widening into the expression of an unusually hurt and confused puppy. This time Isak turned his whole body around and leaned his head back so he could look up at Even with heavy-lidded eyes.

“I’m sorry, this was not the way I intended you to find out, but… yes, there is someone else. Sorry.”

Even put a hand to his chest in feigned shock, collapsing - cautiously - against the stove.

“Whaaaaat? Why? What’s he got that I haven’t?” he asked, taking a step back to flex his biceps in a feeble attempt at muscled manliness.

Isak couldn’t keep his grin under control any longer so he leaned over and gave Even another quick kiss, “Well, first of all, he stays in bed when his boyfriend tries to do something nice for him. So… why not be more like him and maybe I’ll grow to love you again? Now, fuck. off. back. to. bed!”

Even grinned back and repaid Isak’s kiss with two hard kisses on the mouth and a third that was originally aimed at Isak’s cheek but hit him in the eye instead.

“What the fuck, you uncoordinated giraffe,” Isak protested as Even quickly scurried off and threw himself headfirst on the bed.

“Sorry, can’t hear you, I’m in bed, sleeping. Waiting for my wonderful boyfriend to bring me breakfast in bed,” came the unrepentant reply and Isak smiled fondly down at the plates of scrambled eggs he was holding.

“Your wonderful boyfriend just has to butter the toast and then he’ll be right there,” Isak promised, fetching the cake from the fridge and stabbing a birthday candle into it, actually buttering the promised toast, and then remembering to grab the bacon slices peacefully degreasing on a paper towel, before carefully carrying the tray towards the bed. 

He was met with loud (and very fake) snores from his boyfriend - who in the short time between leaving the kitchen and Isak’s arrival at the bed had managed to turn himself into a very well wrapped burrito. Isak kneeled on his side of their bed and placed the tray between them before leaning over and kissing Even on the nose.

“Happy birthday, baby. I love you!”

Even opened his eyes and grinned up at Isak before trying to force his expression into something that could, in a good light, be described as shocked. Possibly.

“Oh, you remembered! I have never been so surprised, like, ever!”

“Idiot,” Isak muttered, slowly stroking his index finger down the small part of Even’s cheek that wasn’t covered in duvet. 

“Your idiot,” Even agreed, turning his head so Isak’s finger got better access.

“Mm, yeah,” Isak hummed before abandoning Even’s cheek in favour of burritoing into his own duvet, only sticking out a hand to grab a fork. “Now enjoy your surprise before it gets cold.”

Even quickly unburritoed and sat up to cross leggedly enjoy his meal, duvet loosely wrapped around his shoulders.

“Best breakfast I’ve ever had,” he complimented after a few mouthfuls, happily chewing on a slice of bacon. “How have you managed to get the eggs so moist? That’s Gordon Ramsay quality right there, that is.”

“Old family recipe, you know how it is,” Isak replied with a shrug and a toothy smile. “I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you afterwards.” 

“Still worth it, I think.”

“Well, in that case…” Isak flopped over so he was back on his knees, leaning up towards Even, eyes flitting between Even’s eyes and lips, “The secret is…”

“Yeah?” Even whispered back, licking his lips as his eyes followed Isak’s every movement.

“...a tablespoon of… shit!!”

Isak quickly replaced the coffee cup the right way up and pushed Even’s presents out of the way - the toast not faring quite as well as it met with a swift but wet coffee related death. 

“‘Shit’ is the secret? Really?? I would never have guessed.” Even’s voice sounded muffled as he tried to look like he wasn’t laughing at his irate boyfriend.

“You suck!” Isak informed him on his way back from fetching paper towels to clean up the mess, his temper not helped by the floor still being just on the warmer side of zero degrees.

“Mmhm. Just let me finish breakfast first,” Even agreed, thus significantly improving Isak’s mood.

Dropping the now coffee drenched paper towels on the floor beside the bed, Isak crawled back under his duvet and pushed one of the gifts towards Even.

“Can’t wait, baby. Now go on, open this!”

“Still eating,” Even protested, taking a careful bite of a small piece of still uncaffeinated toast. 

“Don’t care. Open it.”

“Fine.” Even looked around for somewhere to dry his hands but couldn’t find anywhere. Reluctantly he dried them on his pants before reaching for his gift. “What is it?”

“You’re really not up to date with how this whole birthday gift thing works, are you?”

“Open it and find out, huh?

Isak nodded. 

“Open it and find out,” he echoed.

Even fought a losing battle against the tape until Isak impatiently handed him a pair of scissors.

“Jeez, how many tape rolls did you use wrapping this thing?” Even wondered out loud.

“Less complaining, more unwrapping,” Isak huffed back, his fingers trembling like he was itching to help, only relaxing when Even finally uncovered the gift.

“Umm… thanks?” Even gave the bottle of beer a puzzled look. He knew that Isak was fond of beer, but… the enthusiasm that he’d shown over this bottle had been slightly more than Even thought it deserved.

Isak giggled at Even’s bewildered expression.

“It’s a hint for the real gift, okay? Any guesses?”

Isak was more or less bouncing on the bed now and Even quickly moved the tray to the floor before another accident happened.

“Beer tasting?” he hazarded, none too excited with the prospect.

“Beer tasting? Really? That’s what you think I’d get you? Oh, Even...” Isak shook his head in mock disappointment. “I mean, what kind of beer is it? Maybe there could be a clue in that?”

Even looked back at the bottle. London Pride? Not his favourite beer to be honest. Pale ale. Red label. Fuller’s. Nope. Nothing.

Isak sighed, “Good thing you’re pretty, baby... Now open the other one!”

This time Even reached straight for the scissors instead of battling it out with the tape.

“Gin? Do either of us even drink gin?” he mused, even more confused as he eyed his second birthday gift. 

Isak was still basically vibrating with pent up excitement.

“We can give it to Magnus, he drinks anything,” he shrugged. “It’s just another clue for your actual gift, get with the program here.”

“We’re giving my present to Magnus?” Even asked, feeling more confused than ever.

“We are not giving your present to Magnus. We are giving Magnus this bottle of gin because we two have standards when it comes to getting drunk - but the gin is just another fucking clue for your actual gift, okay?!”

“Okay.” Even kept staring at the bottle. Beer and gin. B&G? Well, apart from his boyfriend spending too much money at Vinmonopolet, there wasn’t too much information to be gained from that, was there? London Pride. Beefea… what the... “We’re going to London?” he asked hesitantly and Isak nodded, smile wide enough to almost reach his ears. “Really? We’re going to London?!”

“We’re going to London,” Isak confirmed.

“Really?” Even repeated, excited but not quite daring to believe it yet.

“Yep. London, baby!” 

Apparently Isak’s grin wasn't letting up anytime soon.

“But… how? When? And can we actually afford it?” Even’s brain was multitasking hard, partly already planning what to do in London, partly worrying about the state of their bank account.

Isak let his hand skim down Even’s arm, intertwining their fingers when he reached Even’s hand.

“We can afford it,” he assured him. “As for when… how do you feel about celebrating Pride in London this summer?”

Based on Even’s bright smile, Isak decided he was probably feeling pretty good about it.

“Wow. I’m… this is just… I mean, London!?”

“So what pretentious movie locations have you already decided we’ll have to visit?” Isak asked fondly, pulling at Even’s hand to encourage him to lean over and kiss him.

“Well, we have to visit Notting Hill and take a photo in front of the blue door!”

“‘Have to’, huh? You’re using those words again. I don’t think they mean what you think they mean,” Isak teased him.

“And we have to go to 84 Charing Cross Road, because that’s the most epic non-love love story there is,” Even continued, ignoring him. “And I guess we’ll have to do the 221B Baker Street thing, which… ugh. Oh, and we have to go to Leadenhall Market, and the Harry Potter studio tour, and…”

Isak let go of Even’s hand in favour of pulling at his t-shirt hard enough for Even to topple over into Isak.

“We already have tickets for the Harry Potter thing because I’m the world’s best boyfriend,” he stated, combing back Even’s hair and kissing his forehead. “The rest we’ll just have to fit in where we can.”

Even shoved at Isak and crawled up to lie face to face to him where he’d let himself fall.

“World’s best boyfriend,” he whispered reverently, cupping Isak’s cheek and looking into his eyes for a few long seconds before wetting his lips and leaning in to kiss him.

Isak hummed encouragingly into the kiss, dragging his boyfriend closer so he was half lying on Isak’s chest. They could continue the argument about who had the world’s best boyfriend later anyway - but Isak was pretty sure it was him.